Natasha listened to the story, forcing herself to focus on his voice and shut out everything else. She tried to shut out the pain, tried not to think about how difficult it was to breath, tried to think of nothing but him and the memory they shared. Perhaps it wasn’t the best memory, anyone else listening might have been horrified, but a small smile curved her lips when he repeated her words from years ago.

She tried to speak, tried to say that that must mean she wasn’t going to die because he was with her, but coughing wracked her body again only this time she couldn’t stop so easily. Clutching at her chest, at any part of Clint that she could grab, she tried to roll to her side, tried to curl up in a ball. All she could taste was blood, all she could see was red, red that was steadily getting darker.

She heard the medics approaching, heard voices talking around her but she couldn’t understand any of them, couldn’t pick out Clint’s voice among them, couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything but red, red getting darker...

...darker...

...darker...

...black.