Avengers: Endgame X Reader

They are dead

"Clint, something feels off," you put down the bow he handed you a while ago and blink couple times, vision blotchy, body aching, brain screaming for help.

He helps you to sit down under a tree in his garden. "Seizure?"

It's not unusual for you as an empath who can't yet handle the power, to get overwhelmed by the constant flow of others's emotions. The only way to steady the chaos inside your head is sedation.

You squeeze his arm hard. "I can't feel them," your eyes are flicking as you can't stay focused, "Laura and kids, where are they? Find them and hide them, something horrible is happening," your body starts shaking uncontrollably.

He looks at you in confusion, but when he sees your panic-stricken face, he immediately starts looking for his family, calling them and whistling loudly. They are nowhere to be found.

You try to reach out your mind to your husband, but you feel nothing, neither you can feel your brother. Hitched breathing bites your chest. "Clint? Clint! Bucky and Tony... I can't feel them either," your voice is hoarse due to sore throat.

He tries to calm you down, even though he himself is freaking out. "Do you feel anyone else?"

You close your eyes, straining every nerve in your body, squeezing Clint's arm again and even harder as if it would help you to stay conscious. "Natasha. I feel Natasha. And Steve, but it's so weird. I can't... my head's on fire," this is very different from all the seizures you've ever had. The burning is excruciating, unbearable. "Stop it, please, make it stop!" you scream you lungs out as the worst pain in your life strikes you before you pass out.

------

You wake up in a hospital room. Monitors around you and a small lamp next to your bed are the only source of light. Your eyes slowly accomodate to the place. Clint's faint snoring is heard from the corner, where he's curled in a chair. 

You put your feet off the bed to go to wake him up. "Ouch," hollow needle and tube attached to your vein restrain you from doing so.

"Sedatives, fluids, vitamins," Clint's eyes are suddenly open wide, although his features are damaged by fatigue. "Lie back down, you'll get one more dose," the chair screeches as he drags it to the side of your bed.

"They're dead, aren't they," lump built in your throat takes over your voice and you involuntarily whimper.

"Yes. Others as well," his voice is soft, yet those words cut your heart open.