What Happened In Budapest *unedited*

Chapter 11: Falling Questions

I’m not sure what it was, the ‘“Could you think about how you’re not the only one with problems?”’ or just anything else, but I tossed and turned on the floor that night instead of sleeping.

What can I say? Barton seems like a very easy-going person, but I barley know him and he… he’s just not the type.

I was still thinking by the time the sun peeked through the windows, still thinking as I ate… just thinking. Thinking about people. One of the many thoughts to pass through my confused brain was problems.

Like Barton said, I do think I’m the only one that has problems. But doesn’t everyone? Also, aren’t people’s problems different than others? For example, what does your I-can’t-find-my-keys-problem compare to another person’s I-just-recreated-Jurassic-park issue?

There is a huge difference.

If you look at it, the “I’ve lost my keys” could mean you can’t get the car open, therefore you’re late to work and you get fired, but “I just made a Dinosaur” could actually lead to the destruction of the human race. Eventually.

Unless you’re the one who lost their keys so they could re-create Jurassic Park, then I think you’re fine.

Or you could have a what-am-I-doing-here problem and a what-is-he-talking-about problem, both of which are holes I’ve buried myself in.

Congratulations, Natasha!

I sat at the table in the kitchen, my hands wrapped around a now cold mug of tea, contemplating my position.

I had decided to be nice.

This lasted for about twenty minutes, and in the nineteenth, Barton said: “Just stick to ice.”

I was more than happy to oblige. Really, has an icicle ever tried to be as warm as a pie cooling in a window?

Probably.

And did it work?

No, because first off, icicles are inanimate objects and can’t wish to be other things. And the pie wouldn’t know either. It’s a pie.

I went back onto the roof again, maybe just to train by myself, or maybe just to see if Barton would follow me.

He didn’t.

I’m not sure why I went on there, even when it was clear he wasn’t coming up, I still sat there, squinting into the horizon, looking at nothing.

Maybe I was searching for something, an answer. Especially an answer.

I was sitting in the same spot as yesterday, looking at the sky for an answer, when really I was looking for a question. Because you can’t really have an answer without a question.

And I had found my question.

When people say that looking at the sky won’t give you an answer, they’re not lying. I came to this realization and I stood up so quickly, that when I turned around, I tripped on the ledge and fell backwards.

Flailing, I tried to turn myself the right side so I could land without breaking any bones or messing up my spinal cord (or, god forbid, mess up my brain). I hit the ground a couple seconds later, landing correctly, if not painfully.

(Heads up- just because it is right does not mean it is free of pain. There is not such thing as a free lunch.)

“BARTON!” I hollered, wincing as I raced up the stars back to the front door of the apartment, barley glancing at the bronze number on the door marking which apartment it was.

I banged on the door, and upon it opening, I mumbled “Oops, sorry!” To the disgruntled young man who opened the door. “Wrong apartment!”

I kept running. I didn’t think there were this many stairs in the building, but the trip down was faster than the trip up.

Finally reaching the door (I checked the number this time- 221) and pounding on the wood with my fists, I yelled again. “BARTON!”

I heard a stomping as he came to open the door. “Who…?”

“IT’S ME! Hurry up!” I was about to bang on the door again when it swung open.

“Nat? How did you get out here?”

“Barton, does it really matter?”

“No,” He closed the door. “I suppose not.”

“Okay,” blinked.

“But how did you get out there? Didn’t I hear you go up on the roof?”

“I did.”

“Uh…” He paused, not sure if to keep talking, probably worried that I was about to bite his head off. “How did you get off the roof?”

“I fell,” I said quickly, “but that’s not important!”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “You… fell.”

”I did. But it’s not important.”

“What is important?”

“Why did they send us here?”

Barton wasn’t expecting this. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Fury lied. We aren’t the best at S.H.E.I.L.D, only the ones at hand. Why choose us, if he could have chosen anyone? Why did they specifically choose us?”

~~~~~~~~

Hello!

I am back with anozzer chapter!

Yay!

Yay for me, anyway.

This was a really fun chapter to write, and I WANT TO THANK YOU FOR 1.1k READS!!!!!!!!!!!

IT IS MAGICAL!

I didn’t think I’d get this far and that so many people would want to read it!

(Especially since I wrote this chapter switching back and forth from YouTube and this……..)

Thanks, enjoy, and please vomment!

nufflepuff

(p.s. vomment means vote and comment. Don’t throw up.)