For the longest time she just looked at him, her pale face darkened by the dim lighting of the isolated room. She hadn't cried, but she may as well had, as tired eyes were shadowed by blue and dark pink circles. She stood without any expression aside from a solemn frown. The only movement in her face was her brows furrowing as her gaze focused on him with saddened eyes.

Her gaze lowered as she stepped toward him slowly. The only sound in the small dark room, was the hum and beeping of machines, and of course - the mechanical funneling of oxygen being pumped into Clint.

Natasha understood why Laura didn't want their kids to see him. Beneath bruises, tubes, drips, drains, and catheters, he looked enough like Clint to make the sight hurt. The Clint they all knew was a hero, someone who saved lives. But now he was succumbing to his own broken body, after an accident that could have happened to anyone. He was only here because the machines forced his failing heart to keep beating.

The coloration of his skin was almost gray. It was hard to tell what on his face was stubble and what was bruises. His face was so pale that both contrasted harshly.

Several deep lacerations were visible on his temple and his lower lip. The skin on his left cheek was rubbed raw, and stained with blood, where he had skid against the ground in the crash.

There was a white bandage around his forehead, and reddened tips of blonde brown hair were visible above the bandage. Natasha could see traces of red under the bandage as well. She assumed the doctors would have tried to at least wash his own blood off, but she figured that even that was in vain. There was too much.

"I signed everything I needed to. I just...I can't."

Natasha nodded as Laura stopped talking. Natasha knew very well what Laura couldn't bring herself to do. Placing a hand on Laura's shaking shoulders, Natasha pulled her into an embrace and said so quietly, only Laura could hear the break in her voice.

"I'll take care of him."

She felt Laura nod against her shoulder, and Natasha patted the woman's back softly. She watched as Steve awoke Cooper, before handing baby Nate back over to Laura. She saw Laura lower her head, and kiss the baby gently as tears streamed down onto Nate's little head. Steve picked a sleeping Lila up in his arms. Natasha watched as Steve lead the grieving woman and her children out of the hospital.

Natasha stood over where Clint laid, understanding what she had to do. And yet she couldn't bring herself to agree to it, until she saw him.

A tube lead out of the side of his mouth, kept in place only by tape. From the amount of monitors that surrounded him, Natasha knew there were far more tubes and catheters in him than she could see. Each one lead to a machine that kept a part of him alive.

But she knew it wasn't really keeping him alive. Just his body.

She knew then that while his heart still had a beat, that she couldn't let him stay like this. He meant too much for her to be so selfish, to hang onto him when he was all but gone.

Even if they could keep him on this machine, breathing and living, she knew Clint wouldn't have wanted that. He deserved better than such a life - if she could even call it that.

Looking at his closed bruised eyes, she reached for his hand that laid by his side. While covered in IV drips, Natasha managed to wrap her own thin hands in his. His hand, while warm to the touch, was limp and heavy: dead weight. She closed her eyes, as she realized he couldn't feel her, and gently laid his hand back down.

It was in her hands now to do what was best for him. She alone had to make the call whether to keep what was left of him alive through tubes and machines, or to end his life. She couldn't help but remember the call between life and death he had made for her so many years ago. She only hoped now with his life in her hands, that she could do right by him.

She pried her gaze away from him to address the nurse.

"You can remove him from life support."

-

The nurse shut the door and closed the blinds to provide some privacy. The room seemed darker and colder than it was before. Natasha stood beside him as the nurse said,

"I'm going to begin now. You can sit next to him."

Natasha took a seat silently next to his head, her tired gaze always on her partner. Her eyes were saddened, reddened, and yet she couldn't pull her gaze away from him.

One by one the nurse powered each machine and monitor down. With her tilted gaze on Clint, Natasha listened as the hum and whine of machines  died off. The nurse came around next to her and lifted his hand that Natasha held earlier and carefully removed the IVs. With the numerous drips gone, Natasha could see the glint of a silver ring on Clint's scarred hand as the nurse softly placed it down on top of the white sheets.

The nurse removed one of the tubes that ran into his chest. She placed a tape like bandage over where she carefully removed the tube, to stop any bleeding or drainage. The only noise in the room now, was the rhythmic beeping of the EKG, as Clint's pulse spiked and declined.

The nurse reached to finally remove the tape that kept the breathing tube in his mouth. But just as she did, Natasha's looked up at her, and said suddenly,

"Wait."

"Ma'am?" The nurse questioned, still reaching for the tube.

"Just wait."

Her voice was sharp and demanding, leaving no room for the younger nurse to argue. Natasha's concern wasn't on the nurse, but at the realization that when that tube was pulled out, it would be over.

For a moment she only looked at him, eyes misted and dark. Her jaw hung open and quivered, as if she could not find the strength to speak, before finally she said in a hushed, almost desperate, voice,

"Clint."

She didn't expect an answer, but she looked at the EKG monitor anyways - as if somehow her voice would give him strength. But his vitals were dropping, his heart sporadic, failing. There was nothing she could say or do to save him. She knew that, but she couldn't just let him go, not yet.

She found her thin and shaking fingers gently laid upon his cheek. With a swift turn, she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. Her eyes lowered as she continued to move her hand softly, comfortingly. Her subdued and rasping voice broke out of raw silence,

"It's okay."

The tips of her fingers remained upon the side of his face. She could still feel the warmth in his cheek, blood still rushed under his skin. He was still alive, but he wasn't here. She knew this, but she couldn't bring herself to lower her soft hand from his cheek.

"You can go."

She gave her long time partner, best friend, and the closest person she had to family, her consent to leave. With a heavy blink, a tear ran down her cheek. The small amount of light in the room reflected off the trail the small tear made. She whispered now, her voice too hushed to be heard over the machine.

"I'll take care of them. We'll be fine."

Her petite hand slid off the side of his face finally. With her head lowered, and eyes upon his own closed ones, Natasha stood up slowly. The look in her eyes reflected levels of love and grief a spouse would display at losing their partner. And to Natasha, while Clint would never be that to her, he was the closest person she would ever have to that kind of relationship. She loved the man, more than he would ever know. But now, she was the one who had to let him go.

"Are you ready?" The nurse asked.

Natasha looked up at her for a long moment, before shaking her head and saying bluntly,

"No. But go ahead."

She placed her hand upon his heaving chest, knowing that in a few short moments the slow rise and fall would cease. The rasping sound of the oxygen flow faded, as the nurse turned off the machine and proceeded to remove the tube that hung out of his mouth.

Slowly her gloved hands peeled off the tape. She pulled the tube out of his mouth. Natasha looked down at him as his lips hung free of the tube, open and ajar for just a moment.

Natasha watched his last movements. Clint let out one relieving exhale, and then his body relaxed. Natasha's felt her hand on his chest lower as his lungs deflated. His lips slowly drew together after that last huff of breath, before finally closing. Natasha didn't need to see the flatline on the EKG to know that he had passed away.

Natasha didn't notice the sound of the flatline till the nurse turned off the monitor, and the small room grew silent at last. The nurse left without another word, closing the door behind her. The room grew larger, darker, and colder as Natasha stood alone.

Looking down at Clint, her eyes softened. Her lips were parted, but there was nothing to say anymore. Her shoulders rounded in defeat, as she moved her pressed hand from his sunken chest to his shoulder.

She didn't want to keep looking at him, but she could not pull her gaze away. She felt that if she spared a glance away she'd lose even more. She could not believe or comprehend the sadness that befell her, unless she kept looking at him. It was like a disturbing scene that one couldn't pull their gaze away from, expect at the same time it wasn't. He was still just the man she spent more than half her life with. The only man who would she would ever be able to say she loved.

She didn't know nor care what came next. As far as she was concerned, what came next was trivial.

Natasha let her thumb brush against his shoulder one last time, before she let go and wrapped her arms around herself. For that was the only thing she had to comfort herself with now. She didn't know how long it remained just her, Clint's body, and the powered down machines, but for as long as she stood there, she didn't feel nor think. She just held herself, and looked down at Clint. And as time went on for what felt like forever, she never left his side.