Clint II: For Real This Time

Four to six months was enough for Clint to spend his Wish. When he mentioned it to Natasha, he hadn't decided yet, but she urged him to make up his mind. And now he had.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Mom asked when he told her.

"Yes," Clint avowed. He knew it was a rather unusual Wish for an eleven-year-old, but Clint didn't want to do something boring and typical. This would be the culmination of his friendship with Natasha, and all that remained was to inform her that she was invited along.

"Are you serious?" she asked. "Your Wish? Is with me?"

"I can't think of anyone else I'd rather do this with," Clint said. "The Wish people will send you all the details."

"I cannot believe this is happening."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"The best way."

"I like that. I'll see you soon, Nat."

"See you soon."

Mom took him shopping for a very special something. What Clint hated most about dying was that he'd be leaving so many people behind. And he wanted one person in particular to have something to remember him by, something that he picked out and gifted to her during this Wish. "That one," he told Mom as soon as he saw it. Clint kept it in a little velvet box for safekeeping, and then handed that box off to Mom for extra safekeeping. He wasn't notorious for keeping track of things, which is why he was forbidden from removing his hearing aids unless he handed them immediately to Mom or Dad, or placed them on his nightstand before bed.

Both of Natasha's parents were also coming, and they were apparently keeping the destination a secret from her. She complained to Clint over text that she felt like she was being kidnapped and requested he tell her where they were going. "No can do," he said. "It's a surprise."

"I do not like surprises."

"You'll like this one," he promised.

~0~

Clint knew she'd figure it out as soon as she got on the flight, since they announced the destination, and he could tell by the grin on her face when they met up at the airport that, despite her earlier claim, she did like this surprise. He wasted no time in racing over to hug her.

"I cannot believe you chose this," she muttered as they released each other.

"Why not?"

"Is very…not for kids."

"Everywhere is for kids if we want it to be. Besides, I wanted us both to have some positive association with this place."

"You're the one who attached negative association in the first place," she pointed out.

"Whatever. We're going to Budapest for real this time. Are you excited?"

"Yes."

"Good. Me too. I've never been this far from home before." Clint looked around, marveling at the stark differences he already noted between this place and the United States.

"I have been farther," Natasha remarked.

"I know that. Not all of us cross oceans for cancer treatment."

"I'm glad I did."

"Really?"

"Of course. I met you."

The comment was outwardly sweet, but Clint heard the bitter sorrow attached to it. If she'd never met him, she wouldn't have to lose him. But as Carol and Steve said, fear of loss was no reason not to love. To diffuse the tension, Clint turned it into a joke. "And if you hadn't met me, you never would have gotten this free trip."

She rolled her eyes, so Clint considered it a success.

He'd never been big into geography or history, but from the moment he stepped outside the airport even he couldn't deny that Budapest was a beautiful city. Natasha, on the other hand, loved both, and was fascinated by everything they saw. Clint took just as much joy from watching her as he did in seeing the city. The Wish people planned everything perfectly; Clint didn't grow too tired, but nor did he feel like they wasted any time. His and Nat's parents evidently enjoyed it just as much as they did, if not more, though they couldn't talk much among each other without Natasha translating.

They took a boat down the Danube, and Natasha pointed out all the most beautiful buildings and their names before even their guide could. He'd always known she was leagues smarter than him, but now she seemed to know everything. "How do you know so much about Hungarian history?" he asked her.

"In school we study history of more countries than just our own," she said.

Even if Clint had gone to normal school, he didn't think he'd have gotten to world history until high school. Frankly, he didn't care. Natasha was a better teacher than any he'd ever had. For the most part, their parents left them be. Clint knew that must be hard, for his mom and dad not to soak up all this time with him, but he wanted to spend it with Nat. Mom and Dad would get their turn afterwards. However, it was rather funny to watch them and Natasha's parents get along with maybe five vocabulary words in common. He and Nat did their fair share of snickering at their parents' pointing and gesturing.

"It's almost like sign language, but less sophisticated," Clint remarked.

"A lot less."

The food they tried was…interesting, to say the least. Natasha, more accustomed to Eastern European cuisine than Clint, didn't bat an eye, but on more than on occasion Clint had to spit into a napkin as subtly as possible. His parents never caught him, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't hide it from Nat. She just laughed at him and told him in no uncertain terms to, "Get cultured." The horrible taste was worth it to hear her poke fun at him. She sounded happy. Throughout the entire trip, she sounded happier than ever, despite the underlying somberness of the occasion. All of them shoved that aspect to the back of their minds and focused on making bright memories.

~0~

On their last night, Clint asked his mom for the little velvet box and for a few moments alone with his best friend. She handed it to him with trembling hands and kissed his head. "Do you think she'll like it?" he asked.

"She'll treasure it forever."

With a nod, Clint peeked inside the box one more time and snapped it shut. He really hoped Mom was right. The instant he approached Nat, her expression shifted to one of deep melancholy. She knew what was coming before he even had to say it. This last night symbolized the beginning of the end. After tomorrow, Clint didn't know if he'd ever see Natasha in person again. Frankly, he wasn't sure that he wanted to, since he'd only get sicker the next few months. He'd rather she remember him like this.

"I had great time this week," she told him, attempting a smile.

"Me too. I'm sorry it had to end." He regretted that comment the instant it left his mouth, because it could just as easily refer to their friendship as it could their time in Budapest. Without warning, she hugged him, squeezing so tightly that Clint found it hard to breathe. Careful not to drop the box in his left hand, he hugged her back. They just stood there for who knows how long, afraid to let go.

"I have to give you something," Clint announced. He released her and stepped back, flipping open the box to reveal the necklace contained within.

Natasha's eyes widened and shimmered with unshed tears. "It's beautiful."

"I wanted you to have something to remember me by. Something you could keep close."

She lifted it reverently from the box and caressed the charm—a little arrow—in her hand. He stepped forward and wordlessly offered to fasten it for her. It took him four tries to work the stupid clasp, and by the third time Nat was laughing so hard that it made the task even more difficult.

"Stop squirming!" he ordered, barely able to get the words out through his own giggles.

"Do you want me to do it?" Nat asked.

"No. I got this."

"Okay." He tried a fourth time and finally succeeded. "Got it!"

"Good job. Now we know you can only be accurate with things far away, not up close."

"Very funny. Now let me see it."

Natasha turned around and Clint looked at the glistening little arrow between her collar bones. "Do you like it?" he asked hesitantly. The closest thing to jewelry he'd ever seen Nat wear was her patient ID bracelet from Gravesen.

"I don't think I will ever take it off."

~0~

They didn't know how to say goodbye the next morning. It seemed too final, with Natasha heading home to Russia and Clint going home to die. He didn't know what to say. Was it better to pretend this was a temporary parting, or to recognize it for what it was? Nobody knew. Nat's parents seemed eager to get going, so they exchanged one final hug before going their separate ways. No words were exchanged, but they didn't need to be. Clint heard everything Natasha needed to say in the strength of her embrace.

After that trip, his parents finally told the rest of his friends and their families what was going on. He'd asked them not to share the news until after the trip, so he could enjoy it without worrying about how his friends were handling the news. They knew he and Natasha had gone to Budapest, had seen the pictures they sent in the Avengers group chat, but they didn't know that he'd only cashed in his Wish because it was his last chance to do so. Now they did.

With the fulfillment of his Wish, his decline hastened. It was almost like his body had been holding the cancer at bay just long enough to enjoy those moments. Now that it was over, he had nothing left to hold on for. He spent at least half the day sleeping, and his daily dose of pain meds seemed to increase exponentially. Clint stopped paying attention to what day it was, not even sure how much of four to six months remained. Frankly, he didn't want to know. The time would fly faster if he was constantly looking at the clock.

He did archery with Kate for the last time in mid-May. Clint barely had the strength to draw his bow, but he was determined. She could tell it was their last time, and she let him win. She thought she was being sneaky about it, but Clint saw right through her. But he didn't say anything. He faked rubbing it in her face when he nailed one last bullseye to beat her shot in the fourth ring. She teased him back, but with none of her usual bite.

"You'd better keep this up," Clint told her. "You could go to the Olympics one day."

"I will," she promised.

"If you don't, I'll haunt you."

"And if I do, you'll make sure the winds are in my favor during the finals?"

"I don't know how it works, but I'll try my best."

"Good."

Every morning, Clint glanced outside just to look at his arrow still lodged in the dead center of the target. He hoped it stayed there forever.

Steve visited him not long after that. "I'm sorry to make you do this again," Clint said, knowing the older boy had already suffered the loss of several friends.

"It's not your fault."

"I know, but I still feel bad. You don't deserve so much heartache."

"Neither do you." Steve left the rest of that statement unspoken, but Clint heard him loud and clear: "You don't deserve to die."

"Steve, I know this is going to hurt no matter what, but I want you to know that I'm okay. I'm…ready to be done with cancer one way or another, and at this point I don't care that it's the bad way. As someone who's fought even longer than I have, I hope you understand that."

"I do," Steve said solemnly. "I get it."

"Good. But don't hurry up just to join me, okay?"

"I won't. But, if you can, will you tell Scott and Carol that I said hi?"

"Of course I will." Clint couldn't wait to see Scott again. Oh, the amount of mischief that would be made when they were all together.

~0~

The days started to grow hazy. Clint spent all day on the couch hooked up to IV painkillers, and he could only stay awake for an hour or two at a time. All of his Gravesen friends (except those who lived overseas) stopped by at one point or another to say goodbye, and depending on if they caught him on a good or bad day, he might have offered something coherent in return. However, there was one guest that he definitely didn't expect. The sheer shock of it made him feel more awake than he had in days. Was this a hallucination? Clint glanced to his mother, but it was clear she saw it too.

"You shouldn't be here," he said.

"Neither should you."

Clint couldn't immediately glean exactly what she meant by that. This was his house, there was no reason he shouldn't be here. Then he realized she meant here as in in this situation. Regardless of should or shouldn't, he was here. And so was Natasha.

"I don't have a choice," he said solemnly. "You do."

"And I choose to be here." She sat down beside him, one hand on his knee and the other grasping the arrow charm of her necklace.

He acquiesced. Clint knew that once Nat made a choice, nobody could ever stop her. And he had to admit he felt just a little better with her by his side.

Every time Clint drifted back up from sleep, it was to the sound of her voice. Most of the time he had little idea what she was saying or even which language she was speaking—she knew a lot of them—but it was comforting nonetheless. He didn't know when or where she slept because she seemed to always be there, but it didn't matter. "Kick cancer's ass for me, will you?" Clint asked.

Natasha nodded.

It was the last thing he ever said to her.

The last thing she ever said to him?

"It's okay."