Chapter 3: Falling

The day of the funeral dawned gray and stormy, the sky almost the exact color of his eyes, and it was too much for Natasha. As she stared at the little black funeral dress on her bed, she broke down sobbing once again, all reservations gone. What did it matter if she was acting nothing like the Black Widow should? Clint was gone and nothing was right anyway.

He's not coming back.

"Shut up!" she screamed through her tears.

There was a knock on the door, and Pepper's voice called out to her hesitantly, "Natasha?"

"Come in," she whispered.

Pepper entered cautiously. "Oh, honey," she whispered, "come here."

And Natasha allowed her friend to wrap her arms around her in a tight hug, even as she sobbed into the other woman's shoulder. "He's not coming back, Pepper. I'll never hear his voice again. Or see his eyes. I…" She choked a little. "I don't even get to say a proper goodbye to him." There was no body to bury, even.

"I know, I know," Pepper murmured soothingly. "Just get dressed, okay? Do you need me to get you anything?"

"I'll be okay." Natasha whispered. It was the biggest lie she'd ever told – and that was saying something coming from her. Pepper rubbed her back sympathetically and left, closing the door softly behind her.

But instead of getting ready, Natasha stared dully at the dress and sank lowly to her knees, burying her face in her hands. But she didn't cry anymore, just tried to breathe.

Then she remembered.

Don't open this now – you'll know when the time is right.

The envelope.

Natasha practically flew over to the closet, at which point she began roughly pushing aside dresses and uniforms, tossing aside shoes and guns, trying to remember where in her huge, formerly organized closet she'd hidden it. And there it was, tucked into the pocket of a coat that she'd worn on a particularly stressful mission to Russia. Her hands shook as she broke the seal, sank to the ground, and drew out the crisp, handwritten note.

A small circle of metal fell into her lap.

She picked it up as though picking up a live bomb and then slowly turned back to the note.

Dear Tasha.

I love you. You mean more to me than I could ever say, and I would gladly spend the rest of my life trying to prove it to you. But if you're reading this, then it means that something has happened and I can't say this to you in person, because I know you wouldn't read it otherwise.

Marry me. Just say the words, Nat, and it's enough. I promise I will love you, treasure you, protect you if you'll let me, and stay with you. Forever. I do. You're my best friend, my partner, and my life, and I will give you everything that I have to give, Natasha Romanoff.

But the most important thing I have to tell you is…be happy. Mourn me, miss me, and know that someday we will be together again but I hope that eventually you can move on. I know how hard it is for you to open up, but you deserve to live the fullest life you possibly can.

I will always be with you, Tasha, I promise.

I love you.

-Clint

And when she finished reading, not even the biggest, strongest dam could've held back her tears.

…

Standing in front of the small group of family, friends, and agents that was in attendance at the funeral, Natasha almost broke again. But instead, she took a deep breath, twisted the ring that she now wore on her finger, and began to speak.

"Clint Barton was everything I could've ever asked for and more. He was sent to kill me, but instead he changed my life forever. Eventually, he became my partner. Then my friend. Then my best friend and closest – really, my only – confident.

"But he did so much more than that, so much that I can never properly thank him for and that I could never repay him for, even if he was still alive. He taught me to love." She paused, feeling the weight of every eye in the room. "And I fell for him. Of course, I denied it, even to myself, for years." There were some knowing chuckles at that.

"I regret that," Natasha continued, and they all fell silent. "I regret even more that I never told him, in clear words, at least, how much I really cared for him. Care for him," she corrected herself, because she still cared. Too much. So much that she was pouring it out to everyone else, and yet they didn't think her weak for it; they thought her stronger. "Barton, you stupid, infuriating, sarcastic, good, kind, loyal, obnoxious, crazy, sweet, supportive moron…I love you." More chuckles as she took a breath.

"Why did you have to die?" she asked quietly, brokenly. "So few good things have happened to me in my life and you were the best of them all. It's nothing more than I deserve, but far less than you deserved, so I have to wonder whether the universe doesn't have some sick sense of humor.

"You said you would never leave me. Promised, actually, so I'll keep looking for you. Waiting for you." And then the tears began to come back, even as she tried to blink them away. "Until then, Clint…I do." She took a deep breath and stepped down from the podium.

"Natasha."

She would know that voice anywhere, but hearing it here had to be some kind of trick. Another joke from the universe. But her eyes betrayed her in their search for him.

"Clint?" she whispered.

And then she saw him.

He stood in the doorway with his hair disheveled; tie crooked; eyes tired, with dark circles under them; and holding (of all things) a stuffed elephant, but it was him nonetheless. Tears ran down his face as he watched her.

"Clint!" she cried out, and he opened his arms as she ran to him. "How dare you, Clint Barton!" she sobbed, as pain and amazement gave way to anger.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I will never leave you again."

Finally, she stopped crying and just stared at him silently, paying no attention to all of the other funeral guests. "Barton," she said, some of her old humor returning, "didn't anyone ever tell you not to dress up for your own funeral?"

…

The wedding took place a week later. It was a quiet affair, with only their fellow Avengers and other close friends in attendance, but it was perfect. They both said, "I do," and when he kissed her, Natasha was struck by the feeling that she was finally home.

Of course, he wouldn't be Tony Stark if he didn't throw a huge reception party for the couple in celebration. And then there were the small matters of Steve sobbing throughout the entire ceremony and half of the reception, Tony bursting out of the cake, and Loki trying to crash the party. But none of it could've kept the couple (named Clintasha by a slightly drunk Tony) from their happiness.

A/N: I know, I know, it's been ages, I'm sorry. I kind of stopped posting anything for awhile, but I'm back now, since it's summer break. This story is done but I have a bunch of other Avengers ones, if you're interested.

I hope you've enjoyed reading, and please please please review. Thanks!

-DP