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He closes his eyes, breathing deep and even; fingers threaded into his hair, palms pushing against his nose bridge. The pain it causes is grounding, he doesn’t want grounding. The last few moments play like a broken record in the darkness blanketing his eyes; the hard, black stone, smooth and cold against his back, the whispered words she told him, before slipping from his grasp. Plummeting down, down, down. The water, shallow and warm, beating gently against his form like a heartbeat, like her heartbeat that was stopped so suddenly. The dream -memory- replays once more, just the fall, always just the fall.
“I killed you, so why won’t you haunt me? Why did you leave me? Please don’t leave me.” Clint whispers brokenly to the air. Watching her last moments replay behind his eyes, again and again. “Why, Nat? Why did I have to let you go?”
“...It’s ok.” The wind whispers back.