Time to go

Glass part 3

When Natasha entered Clint's curtained off hospital room she was holding back tears. But the second her eyes met Clint, she dropped a mask of placidness.

Clint was sitting propped up in the bed, his one arm was attached to an IV and he looked so exhausted that he was dead on his feet. Yet his face lit up under the bruises when Natasha walked in, and he still greeted her happily. Just like old times.

"Hey Nat! Can you believe it? They put me in the hospital for severe sleep deprivation and dehydration! That's just a regular Saturday! The nurses said I needed my handler's consent to leave and Coulson, that little bugger, he hasn't even darkened the door yet! You have to go get Coulson so they'll let me out of this sterilized crap hole." Clint trailed off, noticing that Natasha had put on her show face in front of him. She had stopped hiding her emotions to him years ago.

"Nat what's going on?" His voice was getting an edge of fear. "Oh god. It's Coulson isn't it? Is he hurt? Natasha you need to tell me!"

Natasha swallowed hard. "Coulson isn't hurt."

Clint seemed to roll these words over in his head, as if he was looking for every hidden meaning and for anyway to disprove the thought repeating in his brain.

"Then why hasn-" Clint stopped mid sentence and brought his eyes up to meet Natasha's, his face a mask of pure fear and grief.

"Clint ,I'm sorry," She began, but was cut off.

"No! don't you dare! Don't you freaking dare say sorry! He can't be. Not Coulson."

"Clint-" Natasha stepped closer to the edge of the bed, meaning to sit down next to Clint, but he let out a feral howl.

"Get out!!" Clint's voice was cracking from withheld tears and sobs. "Get the hell out of my room!! I never want to see you again! I hate Loki! I hate Fury! I hate SHIELD! I hate you!"

Natasha looked at Clint with eyes that were over pouring with sorrow, regret, anger and hurt.

She knew Clint didn't really mean everything he said, that he was just dealing with a lot of emotions at one time and didn't know how to process it. But it didn't make his words hurt any less.

"I said get out!" He howled again, collapsing onto his bed in a fit of angry and horrible sobs.

Natasha turned to go, but seconds before she left she turned back to face Clint.

"You know I loved him just as much as you did."

With those words Natasha could feel her composer cracking, so she slipped underneath the curtain and out into the hospital.

But the thin, paper curtain couldn't block Clint's heartbroken sobs and wails, the sounds of a boy who had just lost his father.

People slowed down as they passed Clint's curtain and stared. And Natasha stared right back at them. She knew Clint would be absolutely mortified if he were to cry or show literally any sign of weakness in front of these strangers, but she also knew that right now, Clint really didn't give a shit. About anything. And that was what really scared her.

Natasha closed her eyes for a moment and listen to Clint's harsh sobs, he would finish crying in a couple minutes then she would go talk with him and be his partner, his friend. But not right now. Right now Clint had to mourn alone. He need to scream and sob and hate and let it all out alone. So Natasha left him alone, she followed the white hallways on autopilot, and found herself seated in the cafeteria, in front the largest cup of coffee possible. Then she watched it go cold in front of her.