Broken Allies (ClintxReader) ✔️

Chapter Twelve.

~Sad Chapter ahead! Mention of Suicide! Read at own risk~

You didn't know how you ended up in the quinjet. You didn't know how you ended up in the tower or on your floor. you didn't remember changing out of your suit and into sweats which was just shorts and a crop top and you didn't remember recieving medical treatment.

What you did remember was the blood that stained your hands what you couldn't seem to wash off, the screams and the gun shots.
It was all just blur, like something you didn't want to believe actually happened, but it did. It did, and it hurt. Alot.

You sat alone in dark your room by the window which was pushed open, the night air was cool against your heated skin and the rain pattering against the window calmed your mood.
You reached your arm out, the droplet hitting your palms and glimmering under the moon light.
You watched the cars on the roads of New York drive by, lights from shops glimmering brightly and people bustling about even at the time of night.
Even though you didn't want to, everything you looked at seemed to bring back a certain memory of yoy and B/f/n.

You were hoping that it was all a dream, that you would wake up from this horrible nightmare to find her in the kitchen baking pancakes and singing away with the Avengers all around smiling and laughing along with her. You knew it was too far fetched though, things like that never happened to people like you. Never happiness, only sadness and misery.
Yes, you knew that, but that didn't stop you for wishing for time to reverse itself and for you to never join S.H.I.E.L.D or the Avengers...even if it meant losing Clint.
You would happily go back in time and join Hydra and either save B/f/n from endless torture or stick by her side through it all.

You just sat there for awhile, feet swiging out of the window and your head leaning on the frame as rain softly fell. How conveinient. It was like B/f/n was there crying alongside you, the weather being swayed by her emotion as always. You missed her, you missed her so fucking much that the pain was now numb. It was like a blunt butter knife being pressed into your heart but not being able to penetrate it, the feeling making you sick to your stomach.
You were stuck in your own mind for awhile, until a knock sounded at the door and it was slowly pushed open.

You shifted your dark eyes to the door, your gaze empty as you stared at the figure who stood there. Natasha. Her face was soft, eyes burrowing into yours and her hair was slightly damp, evidence from taking a shower not to long ago.

"Hey" she greeted softly, moving to sit by you by you on the windowledge since it was a huge window.

You didn't reply, you just focused your attention onto the scene beneath you of New York. The ex-assasin also sat in silence for awhile, gazing over the view with a conflicted look on her face as she debated on the idea of speaking. Just as she was about to open her mouth and speak though you finally said something.

"Would it matter?"

"Would what matter?"

"Would it matter if I jumped?" You asked, staring blandly into her shocked eyes before speaking again.
"I lost you all today, I tore you all apart for my own selfish needs. I should just end it, right?"

"Listen to me Y/n, we dont blame you for wanting to protect your friend. They were just worried for your safety and protection, no one wanted to lose you and we're not going to lose you" she stated firmly, taking your hands into her as her gaze burned into yours.
"We love you too much to lose you" she mumbled.

You nodded, her words sank into your brain but they didn't register. You didn't believe her. She knew you didn't believe her but Natasha left the case alone, knowing you would come to when you deemed ready.

"We are up in the main room if you wish to join us, just don't do anything you will regret Y/n"

With that being said she left and you were once more on your own. You drew your legs back in from the window ledge and closed the window.
You looked at yourself in the long mirror, eyes glancing over your bandaged stomach, arms and ankle. You traced your fingers over the white medical cloth before moving to the scar on your thigh and shoulder, the scars that B/f/n had inflicted.
Your fingers traced them lightly before you shook your head and moved out of the sight of the mirror.

You eyed the door in debate before nodding your head and slipping out of your room. There was one room where you were headed. The room where Clint had claimed you as his.