[It had been some of the longest few seconds of his life. The phone ringing. Her number. Her voice. The way he couldn't articulate for all the emotions threatening to undo him in the moments before the world exploded into ash and flame.
If it worked, if that did happen, and not some crazy hallucination, then everything will have been worth it. Almost worth it. Worth it. Natasha would want him to--
There's the briefest instance where it looks like he's going to jerk away at her touch, but, instead, he steadies. Reaches for...not numbness, but familiarity of pain enough to dull it. He doesn't want to fall all to pieces right now, in front of her, in this hole in the wall of a restaurant. She's so far removed from it all. And she won't pluck it out of his thoughts if she can help it.
He swallows down the exhaustion and the grief, old old friends of his, and nods. The words are all jumbled up and stuck. He'll have to pry them loose. This isn't about him. This isn't supposed to be about him. Wanda has the whole rest of her life to live and then not live and then live again, and to live here at least for a time. It doesn't have to be about him.
Like clearing the blockage with a crowbar, Clint swallows a few times, and his words start out watery before he makes them even out.] Think it's going to be okay, now. I hope so.
[For them. And for half the universe. It's going to be okay, and that's the part that matters.]
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If it worked, if that did happen, and not some crazy hallucination, then everything will have been worth it. Almost worth it. Worth it. Natasha would want him to--
There's the briefest instance where it looks like he's going to jerk away at her touch, but, instead, he steadies. Reaches for...not numbness, but familiarity of pain enough to dull it. He doesn't want to fall all to pieces right now, in front of her, in this hole in the wall of a restaurant. She's so far removed from it all. And she won't pluck it out of his thoughts if she can help it.
He swallows down the exhaustion and the grief, old old friends of his, and nods. The words are all jumbled up and stuck. He'll have to pry them loose. This isn't about him. This isn't supposed to be about him. Wanda has the whole rest of her life to live and then not live and then live again, and to live here at least for a time. It doesn't have to be about him.
Like clearing the blockage with a crowbar, Clint swallows a few times, and his words start out watery before he makes them even out.] Think it's going to be okay, now. I hope so.
[For them. And for half the universe. It's going to be okay, and that's the part that matters.]