Chapter Text
Since the rest of the team had found out about him and Phil Clint finally felt like he could properly grieve.
Whilst the rest of the team had known that he needed time to get over Loki's assault, and deal with the knowledge of all the deaths he had caused. They had not realised how personal one of those deaths was.
Sure they knew that Coulson had been his and Nat's handler for years. Obviously Phil had a connection to nearly all of the Avengers, without it they would not have come together so well to fight Loki after his death.
But none of them knew Phil. His Phil. Not Coulson with his sharp suits, bland agent face and fierce competence. But Phil with his sleeves rolled up, his dry humour, that soft crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. They never knew Phil curled up on the couch in a soft jumper, some random TV programme on in the background, as they listened to the rain falling outside just simply happy to be safe in each others arms.
They saw Coulson his words sharp and arms crossed as he glared down at Clint waiting as medical patched him back up, again. They didn't see the fear in his eyes for the day when Clint couldn't be patched back together. They didn't see the bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights spent waiting either for Clint to check in or with painful back sat waiting by Clint's bedside for him to wake up.
After the announcement of legal marriage the weight of the rings around his neck seemed to grow. They weighed him down, made each breath drag into his lungs. The empty feeling in him ached as he longed to feel Phil's arms around him again.
Natasha spent more and more nights in his room. Clint knew she was grieving as well. The three of them had been like a family.
Some nights as she sat running her fingers through his hair it was enough to send him to sleep peacefully. Other nights she was there to wake him from the nightmares that crept out in the night. And on the worst nights she was there to hold him as he gasped for breath, tears running down his face, as he woke from a dream where Phil was still alive. Sleepily reaching out only to realise that there was no-one there. It was like loosing him all over again. That gut wrenching pain the same as when he first found out after Nat took him back to Shield.
The team had split up after following Stark to the shawarma place. Not that any of them had really been hungry even Thor's subdued “Let us feast” betrayed how exhausted they really were.
He had let Nat drag him to medical all to aware of how battered and bruised they both were. He knew once the adrenaline wore off he was going to be in a world of pain.
He all but collapsed on the hospital bed. The lack of sleep whilst under Loki's control coupled with the bone deep ache of fatigue from the battle meant all he wanted to do was sleep.
Groaning he rolled his head over to look at where Nat sat perched on the bed next to him resting her ankle whilst waiting to be checked over “Phil's going to kill me for jumping off that building right?”
Natasha's eyes went wide before quickly shuttering and locking back down. The momentary loss of control spoke volumes for how tired the Black Widow actually was. But Clint knew something else was wrong, badly wrong.
Levering himself up onto one arm he stared across at her “what?”
Natasha sighed sadly and dropped her guard meeting Clint's gaze. Clint stared trying to work out what was wrong, though his brain felt like his thought's were swimming through treacle.
“Phil didn't make it Clint” Nats voice was soft but her words seemed to echo in his head.
He continued to stare at her, disbelief clear on his face “What do you mean he didn't make it” Clints voice was shaking “He has to make it. He's Phil, he always makes it”
Tears began to fall lightly down her face as he looked at her “He went after after Loki to try and get you back Clint. Loki stabbed him. Nick found him but not in time. The medics called it”
Clint opened his mouth but no words came out. Choked up his eyes pleaded with her, begging her to say anything but that.
Nat reached over and held his hand “I'm sorry Clint”
He closed his eyes sobbing as the reality sunk in and the pain felt like it would split his chest in two. He buried his face in his shoulder Nats grip on his hand a solid anchor as the wave of grief crashed over him.
Phil was gone. Gone because of Clint. Gone because no matter how hard he tried he could not break free from Loki. Gone because his plans had not been good enough. He had not been strong enough to twist Loki's commands more. His attack has still been too good, too brutal. That whilst the Helicarrier had not gone down completely, Loki had taken Phil down instead.
Wandering around the tower now Clint just felt numb. When the rest of the Avengers had not known it has been easy to play the role they expected to see. Turn up at mealtimes. Sit through movies. When it got too much he would retreat to the range and shoot until his mind went blank again. It was like being in mission mode focusing on everything around him to keep from thinking about all that he was missing.
Now though the team knew and no longer did he have to hide his grief. Phil would have hated to see him like this he knew. But without Phil and without the need to keep up the appearance of being OK Clint was finding it harder and harder to carry on. The world was so quiet, the colours seemed less bright and the fights they got called out for just seemed so pointless.