Budapest

Chapter 21

Clint Barton
As I open the front door I feel the warmth of the afternoon sun and the dangerous presence behind me. I have my SHIELD uniform on now, only because it will be one of the only things that will stop people questioning why I'm walking around with a bow and arrows. I lock the front door once Romanov-Romanoff steps in front of me, slowly making her way down the steps. Although she had a gaping hole put in her leg just a couple days ago, she seems almost completely better. With almost no limp. It's a wonder as to her quick healing. But I know she still feels the pain. It's etched all over her face when she steps down too hard.
"Where's this stash of supplies of yours?" I ask, putting the keys in the pocket situated at my thigh.
"About 200 meters away from the park." She answers.
"Right." I clear my throat awkwardly. Today she seemed too on edge for talking. And even I am not going to try and see how much she could take.
We continue to walk in a single file pattern, her in front of me. With our pace steady the park is in my view in just minutes. Romanoff veers to the left and comes to a halt outside a bricked building. Comparing it to the other buildings it seems to be inferior and minuscule, perfect for someone who wishes to not draw an extravagant amount of attention. I keep walking past the Russian and only stop as I reach the door. The whole way in seems to be pitch black. I put my hand on the door knob and twist. It's not locked. I peer inside as the door slowly creaks round on its hinges. It gently hits the wall and stops swinging. I bring my head back from inside the doorway.
"So, uh I'll just keep watch out here then?"
Romanoff walks straight past me through the dark doorway. She says nothing.
"Okay then." I turn back around, with half my attention still on the sounds coming from the small building behind me. In front of me I can just make out the shape of the theatre and the many police cars that still surround it. Even though their view of us is distant and blurred by the trees in the park, I still feel the soul stripping glare of eyes. I drum my fingers down on my bow, itching to finally let loose an arrow to release the tension inside myself.
I hear a crash from inside, like a plate being dropped by an unsuspecting child. There is a distinguished bang on a wall that follows.
"Romanoff?"
I briefly avert my gaze from the theatre and into the darkness.
"Romanoff are you okay?"
I look back and forth from the theatre to the surrounding area. Nothing looks particularly threatening. Heat brushes against my chin from my exhaled air.
I sling my bow over my shoulder and reach for the gun that is holstered to my hip. The handle of the gun feels cold.
"Romanoff?" I harshly whisper.
My feet barely make a sound or creak as I lay them carefully down with each step further towards the source of the sound. There is another bang but this one is different. It sounds more like someone is opening drawers profusely, while letting them clatter to the ground.
"Natasha?"
At the end of the small hall I see a light slitting it's way from under a door.
My left hand is on the door knob, with my right holding my gun up towards the ceiling. Without even thinking about the possibility of betrayal, I throw open the door.
Red.
Red is the first thing I see with the thought going through my mind that it is blood but it's not. Romanoff's hair flows down her back, strikingly bright against the black colours of her temporary outfit. She didn't even glance in my direction as the door flew open, she only continued pulling the room apart. I make no comment as I look around. Drawers lay on the ground, their contents spilled in heaps. The dressers that originally held the drawers are upturned or pushed away from the walls. On the far left green wall there is a hole. A fist-sized hole.
"Do you-" I break off short and watch the Russian slowly pull at the wall from where the hole was. Plaster dust creeps through the room and settles on the many surfaces. My eyes catch onto the layer that rests on my shoes.
"Shit!" She says.
She runs one hand messily through her hair. Her eyes dart around erratically.
"They've taken it." She whispers.
She sinks to the ground in a crouch, her arms hugging at her sides.
"Who's taken what?" I cringe as the words leave my mouth. I sound too clueless. But that's exactly what I am right now, completely without an idea of what she could be desperately looking for.
She seems to notice me standing in the room for the first time, her green eyes lift from the floor to me. They soften a little.
"Ivan. And his gang or whatever. They've raided the place and taken-" she stops.
"What have they taken? I'm sure it's something you can just buy or get at SHIELD." I say.
She exhales and rolls her eyes, her gaze dropping to the stack of drawers to my right.
"It's nothing I can just buy and SHIELD doesn't have it. Ivan and his men knew that if they had gotten ahold of it, I would die off on my own." She says.
I step forward and crouch in front of her.
"What have they taken?" I ask again.
She looks up slowly. Her eyes are hard and cold but there is a flicker of something else there. Something you would never expect to see in her gaze. A flicker of vulnerability.
She answers,
"My sanity."