Moon River

My Immortal

Clint Barton fixates on the bolted door of the hotel room. He examines the keypad and the area, frustrated over not receiving a response after minutes of knocking and seemingly talking to himself;

"Come on Nat, open up. It's me."

"Need a key?"

He glances over his shoulder, eyes narrowing over the smug expression as she casually sips her coffee. Her ankles are crossed while she waits against the barricade;

"Don't let me interrupt."

Clint invites himself to her drink, "I have some news and you're not going to like it."

She lifts a shoulder, not ready to be serious just yet, "Your attempts at breaking the fob were amusing. Is it time to go back to spy school?"

Natasha presses her keycard against the lock and invites him inside her chaotic room.

Clint moves toward the files and documents, scanning over her mess.

She shrugs off her coat and tosses her paper bag of hash browns onto the bed, her first 'meal' in two days;

"What's wrong? Did Potts take one for the team and murder her boyfriend?"

He invites himself onto the bed and snatches up a nearby paper, "Pepper wants you back. Steve is being Steve. Thor is fine as long as you give him a bagel. Tony is ready to start a war."

She crosses her arms, "He can't, trust me."

"He was ready to withdraw from the team and kick us out. Hate to ask but did you see the news?"

She shakes her head. He reaches for the remote and hopes to find a rebroadcast, "You're gonna want to sit."

Natasha settles on the edge, lowering herself slowly. The images cause her to refocus elsewhere. With her back to Barton she hides the pain in her stare over each image and the announcer's choice of descriptive words.

Natasha forces herself to look up, her eyes soft when she mumbles, "He's not himself."

"Yeah, not awesome. Any word from Fury?"

"He asked me for 24 hours."

He sighs, "You know I'm all about keeping peace but the casualties need to play into it. There's a lot that can go wrong in 24 hours."

Natasha hugs her shoulder, "You should be at the tower to keep an eye on the team."

Barton speaks above a whisper. He knows the spy well enough to make his remark, "So you can go after him alone? Is that your plan?"

She shifts after a moment, lifting her knee on the bed to face her friend, "What should I do? Should I wait for Fury?"

Clint drops his papers, foot bouncing lightly. He takes an inhale;

"You've lived your entire life doing what other people want and tell you to do, broke out. Look, ever since you slipped into substitute director, you're back to second guessing."

She nods toward the television, "Because we see what happens when I'm given the ability to decide."

"Alright, enough,' he snaps, 'You've had a week to cry. Get up."

She dodges his swing, "Barton-."

"Toughen up Romanoff and hit me. Go."

Natasha complies with a turning kick for his knee. The two collide with the furniture as their wrestle continues. She narrows her focus as he offers another punch;

"You relinquished command once Fury got back so you're not the acting director right now. Why won't you go back to the tower and help us fix this?"