She never really knew how much he meant to her until he wasn't there. She knew he meant a lot, but she didn't know how immense her need for him was. She didn't realize until HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD. Until she couldn't trust anybody. 

Was he living or dead? Was he SHIELD or HYDRA? She didn't know. She hated not knowing. Knowing he was dead was better than hoping he might still be alive. Hope was a drug, and she was getting high.

So now she found herself sitting on a curb in a back alley, and had it really come to this? Natasha wasn't one to let out her pain, she was one to swallow it in. She knew that that was one of the things that made her the way she was, one of the reasons her smiles were few and far between.

When a cat came over to her, she shooed it away. It seemed shooing was a habit of hers. It resisted her shooing, and crept over to her. (Just like Clint had) When it crawled into her lap, she petted it, because what else was she supposed to do? Its soft fur soothed Natasha's pain.

Author's note: I love Clintasha :)