She was a dame that wasn't to kill for, only for the fact that she'd kill for you. And she did.
It's so ironic that so much of her life was spent on missions for others, missions for blood. When her last mission was spilling her blood for others.
Clint's days on the farm are on their golden hour, and he sits on his porch, where he has many times with his family, and many time alone, thinking about the girl who he left behind, and who was always behind him.
"Tasha, if you could only be here now." He grits through his teeth, sipping another swig of beer.
Banner was a mess after her. If anything, Natasha and him knew. They were one in
the same, emotions were a casualty of their choice in career. Those who had the luxury of having them, didn't live the lives that they had.
But in the same token, Banner's love for Natasha was something he never got over, while Clint's was something subdued, that as much as he didn't want to admit it seemed to follow him, beyond the glow of the avengers tower and even in the quiet hours on his farm.
The two had gotten together over the past few years. To reminisce, and to curse it all to hell, and between both of those things it seemed to bring her back - if just for a moment.
But here he was where she wasn't. And he knows if she's out there somewhere, there's not a single god damn day he forgives her for it.
He doesn't forgive her for leaving. For doing what he should have. For making him miss her every goddamn day.
She was always the hero. And he always knew that.
He pours his beer out, watching the fire amber glow creep onto his deck, every night like it always does.
"Red, this one's for you."