A/N:

So, back when the first Avengers movie came out, I (along with half the fandom) fell instantly for the complex ship that is Clintasha. I actually wrote this story and several other one-shots and half-finished fanfics back after the first movie…which have since sat on my hard drive for the last three years. Now of course with all the promos and Age of Ultron only weeks away, my Avengers muse has been reawakened, so I decided to finally post some of those stories. If this one goes well, I may try to post a few other forgotten Clint/Natasha fics before the next movie comes out.

Warnings: I don't want to put any specific warnings for this one because it would take away from the story, but I will put it down at the very end just in case anyone needs it (or please PM me). Just keep in mind that I am an angsty writer….

Enjoy!

Fictional

1.

"You should come with us, Natasha, to see him off."

"No. I'm not coming."

Steve sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back at the former Russian assassin. Her face betrayed nothing, but he could see the fire in her eyes, and the anguish hidden beneath.

"C'mon, Romanoff, you're closer to Barton than any of us," Tony interjected, as the rest of the Avengers, plus Pepper, gathered in the small conference room of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters. "Don't you think you should at least come say goodbye?"

"Like I said, I'm not coming. So don't wait for me," her voice was firm, but hollow.

"Are you sure?" Pepper tried gently then, taking a small step forward towards Natasha's stoic form.

"I'm sure. Shouldn't you guys get going?" Natasha could barely hide the annoyance in her tone, glancing restlessly up at the clock on the wall directly over Thor's head.

"Seems such a great shame, to let a friendship end in this way," the god mused, but Natasha didn't immediately answer. However, her body stiffened slightly at the comment.

"He should have thought about that before he decided to leave." The bitterness was clearly evident in her tone.

"Natasha, you know that's not how it is," Bruce said quietly, taking off his glasses and regarding her seriously. "Surely you know that."

Natasha laughed at that, but it was empty and cold. "All I know is that he made the decision without thinking about what it would do to the team." And to me.

"Don't you think Clint deserves having you there?" Steve implored her. He had a feeling that despite her cool demeanor, Natasha would regret it later if she didn't come with them now.

"It doesn't matter what he deserves anymore, now does it?" she spat back at them, as she turned and headed for the door. "He left us, and I haven't forgiven him yet."

With that, she flung open the door and stormed from the room, disappearing into the dark hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The rest of the team stared after her dejectedly, knowing they had done all they could to convince her to come with them. She was too lost in her own anger to be reachable.

Tony broke the long silence finally, clearing his throat. "Well then. Let's get going. Time to say goodbye to Barton."

2.

"He left these for you," Steve said hesitantly, handing her Clint's favorite bow and a set of arrows, still perfectly arranged in the quiver with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo stamped discreetly on the side.

Natasha huffed, crossing her arms and furrowing her brow as the Captain presented her with painful reminders of her ex-partner.

"Well, I don't want them."

Steve watched her carefully, still holding out the bow and quiver. "Then what should I do with these?"

"I don't care. Just get them out of my sight," she shrugged as though she couldn't care at all, despite that it was anything but the truth. She wouldn't dare show how much seeing the familiar and treasured weapons that once belonged to Clint affected her.

"Are you sure you don't want them?" Steve asked carefully, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you I didn't," Natasha replied coolly.

"Why are you still so angry at him?" Steve suddenly questioned, unable to stop himself before the words were spilling out of his mouth. He just couldn't understand why Natasha was still so furious at Clint. It was an irrational reaction, albeit maybe it was simply just her way of dealing with his absence.

"He was my partner for seven years," Natasha's voice was suddenly full of pain, wavering ever so slightly, a rare window into her emotions opening up for him to see. "Seven years. And just like that, he made this choice and now he's gone. Why shouldn't I be mad at him?"

"You know, Natasha, you can't be mad at him forever," Steve prodded more gently, but she quickly crossed her arms and backed away. The window was closed, brief as it had been.

"Sure I can." Her voice was hard steel once again.

"It's not healthy."

"It's not your problem."

Steve sighed, shaking his head and setting down the bow and quiver at her feet.

"You're a part of my team, and believe it or not I consider you a friend. Of course it's my problem," he replied simply before he left the room.

He didn't have to look behind him to know that Natasha had quietly bent down to pick up the archer's weapons from the floor.

3.

"I'm ready to continue the Munich mission, sir."

Director Fury threw down the file he had been scanning on his desk and regarded the red headed assassin seriously.

"Are you sure about that, Agent Romanoff?"

Natasha crossed her arms firmly in front of her, holding him with an unwavering gaze. "Definitely. Just because I no longer have a partner doesn't mean that I should just sit around S.H.I.E.L.D. on the sidelines. Besides, we both know I'm good at solo ops. Put me back in."

Fury studied her carefully before replying. "I no longer need you in Munich. Hill and her team are handling it."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "But it was my mission to begin with. I should be the one to end it."

"Like I said, Romanoff, it's being handled," Fury replied simply. "And I can't very well send you in there alone. It's not a one person job, and you're not ready for a new partner."

With a scoff, Natasha strode closer to Fury's desk and leaned towards him, her voice low and full of venom. "I'm going to say this again, Fury. I am ready to go back and end the bastards that started this mess."

Fury didn't waver at her menacing advance. Besides Barton (and the late Coulson), he was probably the only person who wasn't intimidated by an angry Black Widow.

"I gave you a month off leave," he responded coolly. "I suggest you take it."

With barely contained rage, Natasha slammed her hands down on the desk top, knocking some files to the floor and scattering a container of pens in her wake. "Damn it Fury, send me back in!"

"You are off duty for a month," Fury said firmly, leaving no room for argument in his tone. "And that's not a suggestion, Romanoff. Get your head on straight."

Natasha closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths through her nose and trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She stood up straighter, looking back at her boss and knowing it was a losing battle.

"Understood, sir," she responded quietly, all traces of her former anger hidden deeply once again.

Fury sighed, and she could have punched him for the almost sympathetic look he gave her.

"Look, I know it's been hard since Barton…"

Natasha held up a hand, effectively cutting him off. "Don't. I've been doing just fine since Clint left. I'll be ready for duty in one month."

Before he could say another word, she turned on her heel and padded soundlessly from his office.

Fury sank into his chair, shaking his head as he began straightening the mess on his desk.

"Damn it Barton," he muttered under his breath.

4.

"Where have you guys been?"

Natasha stood in the living room of Stark's Tower, arms crossed as always, steadily eyeing her teammates walk slowly in together.

The rest of the Avengers hesitantly glanced at each other before Tony decided to answer the fiery redhead's question.

"We, uh," Tony cleared his throat, "we went to see Clint."

A heavy silence settled over the room as no one spoke for several moments. Bruce shifted uncomfortably and Steve scratched his head.

"Oh. I see," Natasha finally responded, but she acted indifferent, as if she didn't care where they had been or who they had seen. Only her fiery eyes betrayed her true emotions.

She was furious.

"If you ever want to come with us, Natasha…" Steve began bravely, but she abruptly cut him off.

"No. I don't," she said curtly. "But I can't believe you all went to see him and felt the need to try to hide it from me."

"We weren't trying to hide it from you, Natasha," Bruce defended quietly. "We just didn't think…"

"Think what? That I could handle it?" Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides now, ready for a fight.

"That you would want to go," Tony responded quickly, his own irritation rising. "You are still so god damn angry, we're all afraid that you'd rip our heads off just for asking! Frankly, I'm a little afraid right now."

"You should be, Stark."

"He means no harm," Thor interjected calmly. "We just were not sure that you were ready for a visit with Agent Barton."

"Well, I'm not, but I'd appreciate it if everyone stopped walking on eggshells around me!" Natasha's voice rose, and Tony unconsciously took a step back from the angry assassin. "I'm not some fragile little girl who's going to break."

"Trust me, we know," Tony grumbled under his breath, receiving a death glare from Natasha and an elbow in the ribs from Steve.

"None of us wanted to upset you further," Steve reassured her. "It's not that we think you are some weak person with feelings. That's far from the truth. But Natasha, you haven't really dealt with Barton…"

"Enough."

"You have to stop being so angry at him."

"Damn it Rogers, I said enough!" Natasha fumed, taking an expensive vase off the nearest table and slamming it into the wall, directly above her team's heads. It shattered into pieces, scattering across the marble floor.

They all winced, and Bruce desperately fought down the tinges of green rising up his neck. No one said anything once again, and a deafening silence loomed in the room.

Natasha's body was trembling ever so slightly, but she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, quickly reigning back in her control and composure.

"Sorry. Just," she hesitated, searching for the words, "don't lie to me. If you go to see him, just tell me."

Steve and Thor nodded silently in agreement, and Tony and Bruce shrugged their shoulders.

"Good."

Natasha padded silently from the room, leaving the rest of the Avengers to look at each other and wonder what in the hell had just happened.

"Well, that didn't go well," Tony muttered, going to pick up the broken pieces of the $10,000 dollar vase she had just smashed into bits.

"No," Steve agreed quietly. "She's handling this worse than we thought."

5.

Natasha sat in the darkness of the kitchen of the Tower, drinking her fourth (fifth?) glass of vodka and staring vacantly out the wall sized window at the twinkling lights of the city below.

Clint had loved this view, almost as much as the one from the roof. She shook her head, taking another deep sip of the vodka and trying uselessly to push all traces of him from her mind. She refused to linger on thoughts of him, on reminders of him.

She still hadn't forgiven him.

He had left them, had left her, and hadn't given her a choice in the matter. And there was no way she was just going to let him get away with that.

So no matter how much everyone tried and encouraged and downright demanded that she forgive him, Natasha found that she just couldn't.

Because if she stopped being angry, then she might actually miss him, and that was unacceptable.

She was so deep in thought that she was almost taken by surprise when a sleepy looking Pepper stumbled into the kitchen and flicked on the lights. Almost.

Pepper jumped, startled to see Natasha sitting cross legged on the island counter with a glass of vodka in hand and looking so forlornly lost. Not used to seeing Natasha in such a state, Pepper half-wondered if it was even the same person.

"Oh, sorry, Natalie…I mean Natasha," she began, after regaining her composure. "I didn't know you'd be in here."

Natasha waved her off. "It's alright," she answered quietly.

Pepper smiled tiredly at her. "I just wanted to grab a drink before bed. Flying the red eye from D.C. is exhausting."

Natasha nodded absently at that, remaining silent. Pepper rummaged through the fridge until she found the orange juice, then sat it on the counter and regarded Natasha thoughtfully. "Would you like some orange juice in your vodka?"

Natasha was surprised at Pepper's offer, but she didn't let it show. "No, thank you," she offered a forced smile.

Pepper could see right through it. "Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" She hadn't missed the nearly empty bottle at Natasha's side.

"Or late," she shrugged, downing the rest of her glass. She knew it was near five in the morning, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. It's not as though she slept much anyways.

"That's another way of looking at it," Pepper mused in agreement, walking over to the island to stand next to Natasha. She turned to look out the window, following the assassin's empty gaze to the city below.

"This really is an amazing view, isn't it?" Pepper continued after Natasha remained silent next to her.

Natasha knew that Pepper was trying to get her to talk, was only trying to be supportive. She was so sick and tired of everyone treating her differently. She was angry and frustrated and just wanted to be left the hell alone.

Yet suddenly, she couldn't find the energy to be angry anymore. She sighed, focusing on the glowing lights below before responding.

"This was his favorite view."

Pepper smiled sadly, turning to regard her, but Natasha kept her gaze trained out the window. She was completely aware of all of Pepper's movements out of the corner of her eye.

"I'm just," she faltered, unable to find the words, "just so mad at him. But no one understands. No one can."

"I get it," Pepper responded softly.

Natasha hesitated, turning to really look at her for the first time since she had entered the kitchen.

"Really, I do," Pepper continued at Natasha's questioning gaze. "When Tony nearly died after the Chitauri attack, I was so angry at him, at the missed phone call, at his recklessness and self-sacrificing act, that I missed the real reason I was mad…I was mad at myself."

Natasha nodded slowly, refilling her vodka glass and offering the bottle to Pepper. To her surprise, Pepper readily accepted the bottle and poured some into her orange juice glass. When she saw Natasha watching her curiously, she shrugged. "Might as well."

After slugging back a drink, Pepper continued. "I was mad at myself for all the things left unsaid, all the time wasted. Now that I have a second chance, I make sure not to waste another moment."

Pepper took another drink, and Natasha followed suit. Both women turned back to look at the window, quiet for several moments.

"I'm angry," Natasha finally broke the silence. Pepper remained silent, staring out the window, but Natasha knew she was listening intently.

"How could he be so stupid? So selfish?" Natasha's voice wavered slightly, but she forced herself to remain steady. The unfamiliar feeling of wetness bit at the edges of her eyes, but she forcefully blinked it away. She took a deep breath to steady herself before she continued.

"He just made that choice, knowing how it would affect us. How it would affect…everything. Didn't he think of that?"

Pepper nodded in silent encouragement to continue, and Natasha noticed it out of her peripheral vision.

"I'm angry that I couldn't stop him." She slung her head back and downed the glass, before looking out the window again, twirling the empty glass idly in her hands.

"I'm angry that he's gone…because of me."

A long silence stretched between the two women, as the sun began slowly peaking up over the distant horizon.

Much to her surprise, Pepper slowly reached over, as if not to startle her, and squeezed her hand.

"I'm sorry," was all she said.

Natasha furiously blinked back unwanted tears again, silently cursing herself for being so weak. Her head was fuzzy with anger and sadness and alcohol, but she found herself unconsciously squeezing Pepper's hand back.

"I think…I think I'm ready to go see him."

After another moment of silence, she sat down her empty glass next to the empty vodka bottle and slid gracefully off the counter, swaying only slightly as she landed on her feet.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Pepper asked quietly, "or Steve, or…"

"No," Natasha responded quickly, shaking her head and offering Pepper a small smile of gratitude. Just as quickly as the smile appeared, it was gone, hidden again behind her ever present mask.

"I need to do this alone."

Pepper nodded in understanding. "Then go. Just know that we are here for you. All of us," she added, meaning the rest of the Avengers.

Natasha just nodded before silently slipping out of the kitchen. Pepper heard the barely imperceptible click of the door closing as Natasha headed towards the elevators.

Just then, Tony stumbled around the corner, looking disheveled and slightly confused to see Pepper standing there with an empty vodka bottle next to her.

"Rough flight?" he questioned as he laid a quick peck on her cheek.

"Not mine," she smiled at him, before grabbing the empty bottle and discarding it in the trash. "Natasha's."

Tony raised his eyebrows at this. "You in here getting chummy with our resident assassin?"

"She looked like she needed a friend," Pepper offered noncommittally.

"You never cease to surprise me," Tony responded, pulling her close to him.

"Welcome to my world," Pepper retorted back.

"Where's our favorite Russian now?" Tony asked nonchalantly, his mind racing with what his girlfriend and Natasha Romanoff could have possibly been talking about.

Pepper hesitated, her smile quickly dropping and her gaze becoming serious.

"She went to see Clint."

+1

The sun was finally beginning its ascent into the sky as Natasha made her way down the sidewalk. It was eerily quiet at this hour, a little while yet before the morning commute and the bustle of people would begin.

A chill seeped into her bones as a strong breeze began to blow in the gray morning light, and she pulled her tan leather jacket tighter around her as she made her way towards her destination.

Towards Clint.

Her heart felt as though it would beat its way right out of her chest, and she admonished herself for feeling so nervous at the prospect of seeing him.

The one person she had ever truly trusted, had ever really cared about. The one person who had the power to hurt her with his absence.

She sighed, pulling the jacket tighter again as she made her way through the park entrance. No matter what she did, she couldn't get warm.

The park was empty, and Natasha was silently grateful for that. It was a lovely place, really, but she felt no sense of peace as she made her way down the path. The iron wrought gates were exquisite, but she barely took the time to notice them. Her mind and her heart were focused solely on one thing at this moment.

She found it was becoming harder to breathe as she drew closer to her destination. Her eyes fell to his location, but she could barely maintain eye contact. She found her body was slightly shaking, despite her greatest attempts to calm herself. She couldn't.

She came to a stop next to him and stood, body rigid, heart pounding relentlessly, until she bravely turned and finally faced him directly.

It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach, and she almost forgot how to pull air into her lungs for a moment. After several long minutes passed, she finally found the words to begin a long overdue conversation.

"Hi," she began sheepishly, struggling for the words to say next. "I made it. Finally."

It's about time, she imagined she heard him say. She shook her head, knowing it was only in her mind. She could hear him, but she knew only the whistling of the crisp breeze was answering her.

She continued on, trying to organize her muddled thoughts. "Sorry it took me so long."

Well, you're here now.

The breeze picked up even more, sending an involuntary shudder through her. She sighed, dropping to her knees in the long grass and staring at him, willing herself to stay calm.

"I was so mad at you, you know," she continued slowly, unmindful as a single stray tear made its way slowly down her cheek. "Still am. You won't get off that easy, Barton."

I know.

He was still there, echoing in the recesses of her heart were she had tried to bury him for so long. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing herself to continue on. "I still can't believe you're gone."

With shaking hands, she slowly reached out and touched the cold gray slab of stone before her. The shaking became worse as she slowly traced the deep groves in the stone.

Clinton Francis Barton.

"You shouldn't be here, Clint," she admonished, her voice croaking hoarsely, although she no longer cared.

It remained painfully quiet in the early morning light, with the exception of the cool wind rustling in the trees. Then she heard his voice again, echoing clearly in her head as if he was right there next to her, and not six feet under the ground beneath her feet.

I did it for you.

"I didn't need you to save me," she spat bitterly, as a few more tears joined the first one down her smooth cheeks. "I didn't want you to," she whispered painfully to the wind.

But he had. Arms deal in Munich gone wrong, and he had sacrificed himself to save her from certain death. And it had happened so quickly, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

"Why did you have to be so damn selfish?" she yelled at his headstone, her fists clutching in the grass over his grave and bringing up chunks of soil and roots. "Why? Why did you have to leave us? Leave me…?"

I'm sorry.

"I shouldn't have let you do it," she continued sadly, blinking to clear her vision as she traced his name again. "I should have stopped you…." She couldn't finish her thought, it was too painful.

You couldn't have.

"There's no way I could have," she said quietly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "You always were so damn stubborn, Clint."

You know it.

"I miss you, more than you can possibly know," she sighed, dropping her hands in her lap and closing her eyes tightly for a moment before continuing.

Every day.

She took a deep breath, willing herself to say the words that had so long eluded her since Clint had left.

"I forgive you."

A/N: Trigger warning: Major Character Death