A/N: this just popped into my head. and no, i did not really use a calculator(: i just figured, hey! why not? warning: it's a little sad. it's from Clint's POV by the way! and i took the Cambodian event from my past experience there(: it's really sad! ALSO, the title to this story has no relation what so ever to the movie. it's just a text, in a old scrappy notebook.

disclaimer: disclaimed.

Summary: Before Clint leaves for his first single mission without Natasha, he writes a note in an untouched notebook in case he doesn't come back. He dedicates it to her with all their memories over their seven years together. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH.

Dear Natasha,

Laugh at me. Wherever you're at, and wherever I'm at. Laugh at me. Maybe I'll hear your voice like chimes in my ears. I really want to hear you again, and it's driving me insane. But... Really, laugh at me, because what you'll see next are numbers and words, and a nice long letter scrawled grotesquely across paper. As you know, I'm not one for sitting down to write, and neither am I one to have a calculator at hand (which I don't, actually. I lent it to you ages ago and never really got it back).

But here I am, Tasha, penning down every last memory. You and me, we live our hectic lives by the day. We roll the dice and see where we go, if we go. So, I kind of keep count. Here goes nothing then...

It's been 2,549 days since the day I met you. Remember that night? I snuck into your room in Moscow and you pointed a nine millimetre in my face. Since that night, it's been 2,497 days since Fury started us on team missions. That first mission we went on together, it will be 2,494 days since you'd started talking to me without ice in your tone and venom in your words. To tell you the truth, I have to admit, other than the first time I met you, that was the first day I saw Natasha, and not the Black Widow. I cherish that day because we were finally past the point of debt and debtor.

Let's continue. It has been 2,263 days since you first allowed me to have your back, completely, and 2,160 since you'd first saved my life. 2,146 since our first fight, where you told me I wasn't allowed to leave. You had a debt to pay, and it was going to take years and years. I argued about job descriptions, and you snapped back at me with pure hatred, saying that I was wrong to take you in, that you were better off alone. We stopped talking.

From there, it's been 2,144 days since Fury transferred you to a location in Borneo to track down a group of Indonesian troublemakers jeopardising Malaysia's part of the country because of racial conflict. He sent you there to infiltrate and extract information on the ring leader for SHIELD to tackle the terrorist group from the heart. It's been 2,068 days since I had finally found you again, compromised by the large group you hadn't really expected.

I found you tied to a chair with heavy shackles, battered and raped with several cuts all over your skin. You were too weak to walk, so I carried you out after putting a bullet in all of their heads. I really thought you were dead, Nat. It scared the hell out of me that the next day, while you were recuperating in the ICU, I went up to Fury and gave him a piece of my mind.

It will be 1,984th day from now since the moment I felt the greatest relief, because you woke up after months, and the 1,983rd day since I vowed to protect you and make sure nothing happened. Though, I really did have a question about whether you stayed in their custody because of me. Nonetheless, we started talking again. I can recount that a few days later, you smiled. You never really smile, but you smiled that day. Although weak, it was genuine. The first genuine smile that explained all reasons on why my urge to keep you from harm was gargantuan.

I never wanted you to lose that smile... 1,639 days ago, I convinced myself that I loved you. I really did, but I guessed that you weren't keen on love. You thought love was a weapon, and I do believe that now, Nat. You weren't wrong. Then, 1,597 since Budapest. We were surrounded by men and guns, and the last guy lodged a bullet into your heart.

As you got weaker, I told you I loved you. I told you I loved you and I loved you immensely. I'd always loved you. I repeated that until you fell asleep, and I- (There's a teardrop seeping through the page.) I was afraid. Natasha, I was so afraid that you'd leave me like you did to Borneo. And so many times I came close to losing you... The medivac saved you, and you were in surgery for about sixteen hours.

I tried to get your blood off my hands, and Coulson was there. I washed and washed and just broke down because I knew my promise wasn't well kept. Was it the first time I shed tears for you? I don't know, but I know it wasn't the last. The last was just bare seconds ago. Anyway, the guilt was consumed me, and while you were comatose in the best hospital in Hungary, everything just seemed darker. You were my light, Natasha. You still are...

When you didn't remember the whole incident in Budapest, a part of me smouldered with resentment that I had let myself get too far with my emotions. That, however, doesn't matter anymore. It has been 1,362 days since we went weapons shopping in Japan. You gave me tips on each knife and gun, and I remember staring at you in wonder. You knew so much. It will be 1,187 days since the first time I saved you from a mob with that same knife you gave me, and 1,070 since the day you realised that I was a book junkie, always reading in my free time. You found me on the roof.

In a minute when it turns midnight again, it'll be 985 days since that night in Cambodia where you cried for the less fortunate in the suburbans. The first time you let your emotions through, and you told me about your childhood. I held your hand and reassured you that they were going to be alright. Our charity was going to help them. We got to know a little kid named Swee, remember? He was a charming teen, taking care of his younger siblings while attending school and working. I bet Swee loved you more than me, as a mother of course.

It has been 861 days since that very night in Paris. We completed our mission, and Fury gave us a week off, all expenses paid. Not that we wanted to abuse the funds, but you insisted on buying every flavour of ice cream in the grocery store - Except durian. You didn't like durian, and I made sure to emit that tub from the list. - , twenty bars of chocolate and two of the best liquors that they sold in the store. You were upset over something, and in fear of losing you like how I did before Borneo, I obliged and didn't ask.

That evening, you were so drunk that you smeared strawberry ice cream on my face and licked it all up. I have to admit, it was adorable watching you do that. In the end, I was so pumped on alcohol too that I kissed you. We were so open, so free, one of the first time in years. You trusted me and just got completely wasted. That night, strictly friends with benefits as you concluded, was perfectly passionate.

So, it'll be 798 days since you were sent undercover to evaluate Stark for the Avengers Initiative, 682 since you'd grumbled all about his ego being as big as his head, which looked like a giant acorn, once you were given the green light to activate your alias. We joked all night until I heard you fall asleep over the phone. It wasn't long before I was sent to New Mexico to watch Thor's hammer.

It's been 635 days since I was told that you had a solo mission in Russia, and I fretted all night wondering whether or not Fury should let me back you up. Instead, I had to stay to watch the Tesseract. There wasn't a second where I wasn't worrying about you. Then... I remember it being 604 days since I'd went under Loki's influence, and 602 when I- I fought a dagger to your throat, Nat. It's been 601 days since shawarma, and then where we were supposed to indulge in our little benefit again, you ended up crying and falling asleep while I cradled you in my arms.

That night, you told me that Loki took me. He took me from you, and that you didn't know if you were scared of me or of Loki. He took the only thing you owned, and you said you owned me like I owned you. Was that an indication, Nat? But... Never mind that. You looked weathered, and sounded weathered, and all I wanted you to do was sleep soundly. You woke up sweating, pushing me away because your nightmare was about me killing you.

Horrible. You said. Horrible. You said it was bloody, and I held your face and kissed your forehead. You seemed to believe me that it was all just a dream, that I'd never do that. The nightmares of Borneo, and Budapest, and Loki, they came to me too, but I didn't want to wake you. You were sleeping so soundly for once.

542 days ago, with a couple of nights in between spent fulfilling our own intimate desires and at one point having Pepper move us into Stark's building, you came up to me while I was on his roof. I'm tired of pretending. You whispered to me while we were knocking shoulders, and I stopped. And I'm tired of trying to forget Borneo, and Budapest. We're not together, and I hate that we're not together. If you love me, why aren't we together?

We weren't together, yes, but I was still yours. I'd always been yours from the night in Moscow. I told you that you thought "Love was for children. Love was a weapon." and you told me that was bullshit and kissed me. I can't say that it was the best night of my life - well, it was the top 3 - because it's been 380 days since you, Natalia Alianovna Romanova, had ever willingly agreed to marry me. It was the second time you ever genuinely smiled. I miss that. So much… (Another tear trickles as he writes this, and he wipes it away.)

Then, it'll be 291 days since I learnt my lesson. That love was truly a weapon. Five months and half a week away from our wedding, we were sent on a mission. It was the simplest of all missions. We were just needed to infiltrate a arms-dealing base in Albania. You went in on foot as a contractor, while I stood ready to blow up the warehouse, planning to release once you came out of the warehouse. 240 seconds, you informed. You told me that you didn't want to risk being made, so you had to turn off the comm.

240 seconds, I counted. Natasha, I was too patient. I should have gone in once I felt something out of place. But I counted down to the last second before deciding you didn't make it out. You were always on time, Nat. But not this time. This time, your time was up, with a bullet through your brain. By the time I was there, the men had fled, and you were already dead. I carried you back to be buried under stars and stripes. You deserved it.

I wouldn't count my tears, but if I remember right, I counted 198 before I ran out. Before I went numb. Before my brain stopped working and Fury couldn't give me orders anymore. Natasha. I miss you. I miss you so much. It's been 193 days since I let myself out from a confined room, gone with denial. It's been 192 days since I'd recognised your absence, and the love was harsh. It was a weapon, leaving dents in my heart. I mourned.

120 days ago, I went back to Cambodia. The kids there have grown up quite a bit. But I can't help but remember you. You always know how to dig your way through to a man's heart. I stayed there for 72 days, not willing to go back. You know what, Natasha? Swee became a scholar. He's going to study in a university in the U.S in 55 days.

It's been 40 days since the day we should have had our wedding, Nat. Remember that I'll love you no matter what. No matter how far you are. I'm leaving in less than 35 minutes, for my first mission without you, after you. Fury says it's a suicide mission, but I didn't mind. If I don't make it through this one, maybe I'll be happier. Will you cry? Let's see in 14 days if I can last, or if I'll die young. But you were younger.

I've told you I loved you enough times to count. I don't mind saying it more, but it truly has lost its meaning. Still, I love you. I miss you. I don't go a second without thinking about you. I go to sleep thinking that if I open my eyes, you'll be there to grin at me and kick me out of the bed. You don't. Not anymore.

I'll spend the last of my life remembering you. You mean the world to me, and you still do. I promise you this. Can you hear me? Oh Natasha, do you remember that debt you talked about? It's been gone for a really long time, just thought you should know before I go. Because you've given me more than I could ever offer. Natalia Alianovna Romanova. You changed my life.

I never got to return the favour.

I love you, Natasha.
Always have. Always will.

it's my first time writing a personal POV in first person, so pardon me. and i'd appreciate it so much with some reviews!(: tell me if you liked it? if you cried? if it wasn't sad enough? does it make sense?(: thank you in advance!