Clintasha One Shots

Waking Up (Clint's POV)

A/N: Guys something incredible happened last night... We hit 10,000 reads! Thank you so much for reading this book and commenting, voting and recommending! You guys made my day and I'm so grateful to every single one of you for reading! Anyways, this part is a teensy bit sad, but I hope you enjoy! As always, please feel free to comment, vote and recommend! (Constructive Criticism is always appreciated)

~Sam

When I wake up I'm all alone. No Doctors, no nurses, but most of all, no Nat. Where is she? I try to sit up, but my chest feels like a thousand machine guns have been piled on top of it. My vision is fuzzy round the edges and the smell of sickness and disinfectant has conjugated in my nostrils. I push the assist button with my thumb and a few seconds later a scarily tall nurse appears. "Agent Barton, how can I help?" The nurse has a sickly sweet voice that makes me want to vomit, or maybe I actually need to vomit? The nurse fiddles with the IV drip attached to my wrist and fumbles with the bandages on my legs. Thick white bandages cover almost every single inch of my body. I clearly got hit hard...

*Flashback*

"Agent Barton, stand down!" A fellow Agent shouts at me. "No, don't worry. I've got this." I lie, clearly knowing that I haven't. I press my back firmly against the cool dark wall, hoping to stay out of sight, hoping to buy myself some time, hoping they won't find me. My gun is strapped into its holster, my bow on my back and an arrow ready in my shaky hand. Silently, I pull my bow forward and lock in the arrow in between my trembling fingers. Before I can shoot, a hand grabs my neck and pulls me down to the ground. That's where the bullets came in. I'm outnumbered, thousands of the enemy charging towards me. There's no point in retaliating, no point in fighting. I'm dead already. But if there's anything my training has taught me its: Never give up for the one you love. As the bullets penetrate my skin, tearing holes in my body, I think of her. The way the skin next to her eyes crinkle when she smiles, the way she bites her lip when she's nervous, the way she-

*End Of Flashback*

"Agent Barton?" The nurse asks, concern filling her voice. I rinse my brain of the flashback. "Where's my wife?" I ask. The nurse doesn't answer, instead a familiar voice does. I take a painful look to my right where Steve sits on a rocking chair. "She's gone." Steve politely tells the nurse to leave and he pulls his chair over to my bedside. "What do you mean?" I splutter, I feel like I'm drowning. He reaches over for a cup of water and offers it to me, I accept it gratefully. "We both came to find you but she told me to leave. She was really shaken up. I went to wait in my car. She did come in here though, a nurse told me." Steve gulps. A pitiful look is etched onto his stressed face. I can visualise her in the room, sitting by my bed, stroking my hair. Steve snaps me out of my risky daydream. "Where did she go?" I ask, a little more aggressively than I intended. I want Steve to say "Home." But he doesn't. "I don't know." Steve groans. "I just don't know. She didn't come back to the car, and I rung Tony. He said she's not at the tower." Tears well up in my eyes, I bet they look like wrinkled raisins. Steve gets up to find a coffee machine. I roll on my side and watch as the tears make marks on the pillow. I reach out for her hand, but all I find is air and blank space. I stretch out for a tissue on my bedside table and I'm about to wipe my eyes with it, when I realise someone has written on it...

Dear Clint, I had to leave. Not because of you, because of me. What I'm trying to say is, you don't deserve someone like me, you need to be with someone who can give you everything you've ever wanted, and I can't give you that. Remember that I love you more than my heart can hold, and that's why I've gone. I can't tell you where, because, honestly? I don't even know myself. Love Natasha xx.

I grip the letter firmly in my bruised hands. The letter gives me the strength to get up, the strength to bare the pain that runs all the way up my legs like a volcano, but I don't stop. My ripped clothes are on the rocking chair, which is still rocking mercilessly and eerily in the corner of the room. Gingerly I put them on, all the while not letting go of the letter (well, tissue) I breathe in slowly.

Discharging myself from the hospital was the hardest decision of my life.

I'm waking up.

A/N: Was that an okay ending? To be honest I found it really difficult to write. I didn't know whether to make it a happy ending or a sad one? I wrote two endings, a happy one and this one but in the end I decided that I preferred this one. I have a really good idea for the next part. I don't want to spoil it but I'll give you the title "Rogers" Does that spoil it? I don't know but it's definitely going to be a lot happier than this one! The next part of How It Began will be up this weekend. So don't miss it! If you're not reading How It Began it's my take on 'What happened in Budapest.' Obviously it's not accurate (because no one knows what exactly went down in Budapest) but it's just what I think may have done. I hope you enjoyed this part! Don't forget to check out my other FanFictions!

~Sam xx