What Happened In Budapest *unedited*

Chapter 16: Love Is For Children

We stay like that for… what? Hours?

I’m angry. Angry at Fury who insisted we have almost no communication. Who knew something would happen, yet he did nothing to help us. He put us out here on our own.

And I am angry.

I clench my fists, letting my fingernails cut into my skin, leaving five bleeding crescents. Still bleeding, I run them through my hair. They touch my scalp, the toy with the loose strands. I need comfort. I need to know I can keep Clint alive, I can keep both of us alive.

He’s sleeping, and I don’t want to wake him… wake him to what?

Her anger, the dinky room in which they were hiding in.

Hiding.

Another wave of anger rolled over me.

I don’t hide. I make people hide.

I stop comforting myself and sink my nails into the cuts I made moments ago. I try not to scream and the blood rolls on my writs.

I push down harder.

I scream, then choke the noise out.

I shouldn’t be angry, I shouldn’t. I should be doing something.

But I don’t.

I lie there, helplessly.

I should do something.

No.

I owe it to him, I argue. I’m staying.

What? I scoff back. Staying to help a dying man?

I’d be a dead woman without him. I scream back. I’m staying.

Love is for children, I laugh back at myself. You can’t actually love him, can you?

“Nat?”

“What?” I croaked.

“You’re… screaming.” He says, groggily.

“I-I’m not.” And that’s all it takes. I crack. I’m crying.

“Oh, Tasha,” He whispers. I keep on sobbing. “Tasha,”

He notices my bleeding palms.

“Oh, Tasha.”

Self-harm, that’s what it is. All Agents have been warned against it, it makes you weaker. It does, but not in the way you’d think.

It makes you weaker because it means you don’t trust the people there for you. You cover it, and it’s what I had been trying to do. I didn’t want his knowing what a moment this was.

He slides out of the sleeping bag and watches me as I curl down even farther, away from his gaze.

Gently, he unzips the material and pulls me out, onto his lap. He sits there, providing the comfort I was trying to give myself, as my chest heaves in anger, with the tears streaming down my face.

I don’t know if my tears are tinted with anger or sadness, and I don’t think he does either.

When I wake up for the second time in the dingy room, I do something stupid. I get up, kiss Clint, and leave.

I don’t go far, but I do go out. I’m wearing slightly dirty mundane clothes, my hair loose around my shoulder like it never is.

But I still go out.

I don’t see the group of people until it’s too late. Right before they get me, I realize my mistake. Normal people don’t wear leather coats with red paint on them. And especially large groups.

I swing, I connect, I swing, I miss. I jump, I kick, but I’m still caught.

The spider, caught in a net, just like a fly.

I wake up after being sedated. I can feel it, the drug, slowly working itself out of my system with evey breath I take.

It’s too much. I can’t.

My eyes snap open as the door to the room does. It’s a dark room, and I notice I’m not chained up or restrained… at all.

“Oh, I wouldn’t.” A voice said is broken Russian.

“Leave?” I replied, welcoming my native tongue. “I would.”

“You’re staying,” The voice answered, trying a bit more with the language.

“Why?” I hissed at the voice. I stood up, my limbs shaking from the strain. “There is nothing stopping me.”

“No,” The voice replies, but it sounds amused. “Nothing except your death.”

I swear, and thankfully her basic form of the language doesn’t register what I just called it.

A buzzing noise sounds, and a block of light appears. I turn my head so I don’t receive the full glare. When my eyes adjust, I see the voice. It’s a woman. She’s grinning like a skull.

“Bring him in,” She calls, this time in English.

They bring ‘him’ in.

My heart stops.

“Jesus, Clint!” I scream. I turn to the woman. “WHY THE HELL DO YOU HAVE HIM HERE?” I’m screaming, and my throat begins to ache.

She keeps on smiling, all through me being dragged, screaming, kicking, attacking to one wall, and Clint to another. They chain us there, facing each other.

His face is twisted with pain, and I keep on screaming myself hoarse. Then, when I can’t scream anymore, I cry.

“Just remember,” The woman says. “Love is for children.”

She leaves, and I keep crying.

Clint begins to whimper in pain.

Okay, before you say I have no feelings, and that I am Steven Moffat; I cried while writing this chapter.

I cried a lot.

I was seriously considering going back and starting over, but it's a bit important, and I also wanted to show you guys how much Tasha loves Clint.

*cries*

~nufflepuff

PS: THANKS FOR READING MY STORY.

I know it's not that good, but I love every single person who is taking the time to read my little fic. And it's huge, because I am almost at 3k reads and that means so much to me. I was positive I wan't going to get past... 100 reads?

SO THANKS SO SOSO SO SO MUCH