So I just wanted to thank you guys! You're all pretty amazing!
Clint sat by her side, whispering prayer to himself. He had never been one to pray, he knew nothing came good of it and was not religious in anyway. He knew Natasha would have his ass if she knew what he was doing right now. He pulled a pen out of his jacket and borrowed the napkin that was still sitting on top of his dinner, unopened and uneaten. He began to write.
Natasha Romanoff.
I promised that I would protect you as my partner and you would do the same for me. I never meant you had to take that bullet. I never meant that you had to take that beating that was given to you. All those reasons…they're why you're lying here. And I don't know if you're ever going to wake up. They say there's too much fluid in your brain… and in your lungs. And I did that to you Nat… I did that. Fury doesn't understand. No one does and I don't understand why they don't. I need you to wake up Tasha…I need to see your green eyes…I need to hear your voice, even if you tell me off. I need to see your smile. I'm drifting away here Nat. I can't stay here forever. Please Nat. Come back.
He didn't realize the tears in his eyes until he closed them. He placed the napkin/letter in her hand and walked around the room. He didn't know who to call or what to do. He had never been in this situation before and it scared him. Someone he cared about…someone he loved was lying in that bed and there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do to stop anything from happening. He tried to be strong in front of people, and it worked for the most part. The only person besides Nat who he'd let his shield drop was Pepper…and Pepper just had that effect on everyone. He looked at his watch, it was 2am… too early and too late to call her now. Clint was stuck. He wanted to go to the roof and scream to skies to bring her back. He wanted to tell whoever listened that there was nothing he could do. His head thought ahead, thinking about organizing things…her funeral…what he'd say to everyone else as he explained what sort of a woman Natasha was. He didn't realize he was griping the chair handles so tightly until they began to crack. He got up and walked out of the room and to the roof.
There, he felt a bit better…he was out of that environment but still very much in it.
"HELLO?" he yelled to the sky. "If you can hear me you son of a bitch, you bring her back to me. You bring her back please! I don't know how much longer I can do this for. I can't keep fighting this anymore. I need her to be alive. I need her back here. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to be here. I prayed to you! Every single night for the past three months! You've never answered! Why won't you answer?!" Clint was on his knees, the tears coming freely. He was praying – pleading – to someone who wasn't there.
He sat there for a little longer, gaining his composure before going back inside. When he got there, his heart stopped.
The bed was empty.