Escape

To the Beat of the Drum

I didn't bother sticking around the kitchen the next morning. I grabbed a granola bar and made my way straight to the room we had dubbed as the 'office room', even though the only thing office like about it was the one table in the middle and the litter of papers we have thrown about.

I just couldn't risk running into Laura or the kids. Again, I know I'm only prolonging the inevitable, but that's for future me to worry about.

Sucks to be her.

I take a drink from my mug as I look at the papers laid out in front of me. I know there's something we're missing. Just that last piece of the puzzle to bring it all together. It has to be something obvious and we're just over looking it.

I let out a long sigh, being dramatic to no one.

Staring at the same papers for hours on end isn't going to get us anywhere. We need to be on the ground, looking for ourselves.

I don't know who Clint has running around for us that got all this information for him, but I don't trust it. And I can't quite put my finger on it, but something is off.

I don't know how long I've been staring off into space, but I feel my head falling forward so I shoot it up. Apparently I was nodding off. I blink a few times, run my eyes to get the sleep out.

Okay, this is boring as fuck. I can't just sit here any longer. And for some reason, for who the fuck knows why, Yelena and Clint still aren't down here to help me.

I am not taking the chance of running into anyone if I go back through the house, so I'm stuck here.

Thankfully, I don't go anywhere without my AirPods. I pull those bad boys out of my sweatpants pocket along with my phone, letting Smooth Criminal by Michael Jackson invade my ears with its beautiful intro.

I grab a couple of the pencils we had lying on the table and let myself get caught up in the rhythm of the song; the piles of papers, folders and table becoming my impromptu drum set as I fully embrace my inner rock band hero.

I stood up all dramatic, acting as though I really was on stage at a rock concert. I let myself get carried away; everything became a part of my drums: the wall, the chairs, the weird picture Clint had hanging up of a building half blown up.

Call me crazy or whatever you want, but it's actually a great stress reliever. Plus, I'm not too horrible at keeping a beat.. everyone has to have an outlet, this is mine. Well, one of mine.

As the song comes to the end, I fall to my knees, using the floor as my final set. In complete rockstar fashion, I break a pencil and then toss the other behind me.

I take a deep breath and, feeling eyes on me, I look up and over to the door.

Where I'm met with a smirking Yelena.

I jump up faster than a jack rabbit, yanking the headphones out of my ears and clearing my throat.

"Uh. Hi. Um..how long have you been there?"

She's just looking at me with that smirk. Or should I specify my midriff where my stomach was exposed as I was only wearing a crop top.

So I smirked as I looked back to her eyes, which she quickly diverted having been caught red handed.

"See something you like, blondie?"

She sets her jaw for a moment as she seems to decide something. "Yeah, watching you prance around like an idiot was very entertaining."

I lose my smile quickly, a deep red taking over. I get defensive, "what? You caught me drumming and now you want to belittle it?"

She straightens, perhaps a little taken back by my reaction, "oh, I didn't.. I wasn't.. trying.."

My steel glaze stays plastered on her as she awkwardly tries to backtrack, (failing miserably, I might add) while Clint appears behind her.

"You were drumming?" He is way too happy about the idea, a huge smile stuck on his face.

I roll my eyes. "I was," I say shortly, not really wanting to get into it with either of them.

"That's great, Dani. I'm glad you've gotten back.."

"Yeah, I haven't," I cut him short.

This diminishes his smile. Both just stand there awkwardly.

Well, my mood has been totally broken.

I just turn around to the table to find my seat along with my mug, wishing I had something stronger than orange juice in it.

I will probably need to start drinking beyond the weird late night talks with Yelena in order to get through my stay here.

They are still just standing there as I'm sat down, so I decide to break them of whatever weird trance they're in.

"Are you going to help, or just stand there looking like idiots?" I make sure to look over to Yelena as I say the last part, wanting to see as her face falls a little bit before nodding and taking her own seat.

"Great. Let's get to work then, shall we?"

———————

7 HOURS LATER.

(Please tell me you read that in the announcers voice from Spongebob, because that's definitely how I said it.)

We worked. We didn't really talk unless we had to; if we found something of use. Which has been little to nothing, unfortunately. It's very hard to disprove something when you don't even know if it's true or not yourself. Because, unfortunately, knowing the truth in your gut or just believing that a person you know couldn't do something so awful and out of character, well, it's not exactly evidence that would hold up in court.

And when they've all but disappeared, leaving little to no trace, well, there isn't much to work with.

The whole situation is pretty shitty. And I think, if there's anything we could all agree upon, it's that we just want to make sure our friend is safe.

So it's shitty to think these accusations might stick if we don't find anything because no one else is looking out for them. Not how we are.

And it's even shittier because we have no idea if she's even okay, where ever she is.

It's a big ol' shit show. And we're the stars.

I know, I'm being a bit of a downer here, but you stare at hundreds of words on papers for hours on end day after day..

It'll take the beat out of your song, too.

Whether you're drumming to a different beat or not.

"Okay, I think we clearly need to take a step back, maybe for a day or two. Maybe make some calls, see if anyone has heard anything," Clint says, pushing his chair away from the table.

"You want to give up? What if we're one moment away from finding something?" Yelena asks rather quietly.

"Lena, we aren't giving up. But at some point we have to come to terms with the facts. And right now we don't have anything worth a lick in our stock pile of papers. I hate to admit it, but Clint is right; we need more," I try to say as gently as I can.

"She's right, Lena. We aren't giving up. None of us want to do that. But we need to make more progress and fast. Otherwise it won't matter what we do," Clint says, placing a hand on Lenas shoulder in attempts to comfort her.

She nods her head without speaking and I can just tell she's holding back tears.

And all of that stupid annoyance I felt towards her from earlier vanishes; she's lost her sister. And we aren't the only ones looking for her.

I can't really hold it against her for being a little rash earlier. I know I already forgave her, if we're being honest. I'm not one to hold a grudge. But I had decided not to try to get any closer to her.

Keep her at arms length like I've done to everybody else.

Won't be that difficult.

If I can do it to my own parents and family, I sure as hell can keep the blondie out, too.

Though I don't know how long I'll be able to hold them at length when I'm in their house. It's part of why I had to leave here to begin with.

I guess we'll find out soon enough.

We've all drifted into our own little worlds by now, staring off into space at the wall or ground or desk.

"Hey! You're still down here! Should have known. But it is time for dinner, Cooper is setting the table as we speak. So, chop chop!" She claps her hands along with her words.

And I don't want to turn. I don't want to see her. But I can feel the difference in atmosphere once she sees me. I know that her smile drops, that she's trying to push back the tears, trying not to be hurt that I'm here and I haven't said a word to her.

I know the disappointment in her eyes that will be there if I make eye contact with her. How small I'll feel under her gaze, like I'm her little girl all over again.

I won't. I won't look, I won't see it, I refuse to feel that way again.

"Dani?" And it's that slight crack in her voice, the one I know means she's on the verge of tears, that breaks my resolve.

I turn to face her, fresh tears threatening to spill over my own eyes and down my cheeks, "hey, mom."