Marvel Imagines and One-shots (Requests Closed)

A Breath (Part 2) - Clint Barton

A/N: Still super angsty but getting better. Death, grief and all that goes with it.

***

It had been days. Or hours. Or weeks. Or minutes. He didn't know any more. Time passed as he knelt on the floor of your shared bedroom. People came and went. They talked near him, around him, but he didn't hear the words. Nat had smacked him once he thought but he couldn't be sure. He felt nothing except the aching hole in his chest where you used to be.

He looked at his hands still covered in your blood. He couldn't bring himself to wash it away. To rid himself of the last remnants of you. How had he failed you so utterly? From the moment he met you he knew that he had been born for one purpose. To protect you. To keep you safe.

The heels of his hands pressed against his eyes as a new wave of sorrow swamped him and the tears began to flow. His shoulders shook as he wept and the grief tore him to pieces inside. Like a bullet.

It had hit everything just right, Bruce said. It tore you apart, blasting through an artery as it went. Your death had been swift he'd said as if that should be comfort. As if Clint hadn't been there as you faded away from him. As if he hadn't lived every excruciating second of your last breath.

As if he hadn't rocked you in his arms until they forced him to let you go. Until Steve pulled his arms open and Tony carried you away. Clint shoved his hands into his hair and tugged at the strands needing to feel something. Anything. He released a sound that was half-shout, half-plea for mercy and all pain.

"What are you doing, Clint?" Your voice wrapped around him, calling him like a siren.

His eyes shot open and he glanced frantically around the room, searching for any sign of you. Nothing. He was alone.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

He slammed his hands over his mouth to hold in a cry. You weren't there. God, he knew you weren't but he could hear you. Your soft voice a balm to his tattered soul. He swallowed the lump in his throat and peeled his hands away. He whispered your name like a prayer.

"You're breaking my heart," you answered.

He couldn't stop the small sob that tore from him. "I am so sorry." Hot tears leaked from his eyes.

And then he heard that laugh. The one you gave when you thought he'd said or done something completely stupid. And it hurt so much more than he ever dreamed possible. "How is any of this your fault, baby?"

"I was supposed to protect you. It was my job to keep you safe."

He took your silence as agreement. Not that he needed you to confirm his failure. He would be reminded every day when he woke up without you beside him. He bowed his head and his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. "I can't do this without you." His voice was little more than a whisper.

Your voice came after a beat, sounding amused. "Who says you have to?"

His head jerked up. "What?"

Nothing.

He called your name into the quiet.

Silence.

He pushed his hands through his hair again. For a moment...He shook his head harshly. He was an idiot. The door behind him flew open and banged against the wall. Clint spun only to find Tony panting in the doorway. "You better get out here, Katniss. Now."

Unable to shake what had just happened, Clint pushed to his feet and followed the billionaire into the common area. The team was gathered, all their features contorted with grief. Coulson sat in the midst of them. He gave Clint a nod before opening the file laying in the middle of the table. "Have any of you been to Tahiti?"