Exercitus sine duce corpus est sine spiritu – an army without a leader is like a body without a spirit.

The day Phil Coulson died was one of the few times Natasha cried. She hadn't been around to realise at first, but when she was informed, she simply nodded, pushed past Agent Hill and searched for Clint, immediately collapsing into his chest the moment she found him.
"Natasha, it's going to be OK." He gently wiped the tears from her face, and reached for her hand before pulling her into his quarters, sitting her on her bed.
"Clint, Coulson's dead." A sob escaped from her chest as a fresh wave of tears rolled down her face. Clint smiled sadly and nodded.
"I know," he sat down beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders. "But we'll be OK."
"Exercitus sine duce corpus est sine spiritu," a sob. "An army without a leader is a body without spirit. Coulson was out leader, and now he's gone." Another wave of tears fell as Natasha crumpled into Clint's chest, memories of Coulson at the front of her mind.
"Do you remember the time Coulson, you and I - "
"Latvia?" Clint chuckled, and stroked Natasha's hair. "I remember."
"And then - "
"Italy?" Natasha nodded, and the rest of their evening was spent remembering Coulson, their leader, their spirit, in their own special way.