From Present to Past - The Tigris Series Book 3

Chapter Twelve

May 2nd, 2015

It wasn't too long before the jet was landed. Barton helped Natasha and I to our feet after he ensured the engines were off, and helped Natasha walk off of the plane, followed by the rest of the team. I put a shaky hand on the wall of the jet as I watched them go, trying to keep myself steady before I even tried to move. It felt as if all of the strength in my body was gone and my bones were made of glass. The world around me spun at any small movement, making me feel nauseous as if I had just stepped off of a spinning carnival ride. I put a hand on my head as a poor attempt to get it to stop, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Are you okay? Does your head hurt?" I heard Steve ask next to me, his voice filled with concern.

Ah, yes. How could I ignore the terrible migraine to add to everything else?

"Yes. . . and. . . dizzy." I muttered, so quiet that Steve probably only barely heard me.

He let out a quiet sigh, then carefully moved my arm to wrap it around the back of his neck. "Come on. Let's get you inside."

I barely processed that we were moving as he walked us off of the jet to follow behind the rest of the team, moving carefully and slowly to not cause too much distress. I kept my head hung low, watching our feet travel through the tall grass of a field.

It was only then that my senses tuned into our surroundings. I could hear the sound of birds and crickets everywhere, leaves and blades of grass brushing against each other in the breeze, and our footsteps as we made our way towards. . . a country-styled white house?

"Where are we again?" I asked, quietly, staring at the two-story house with quizzical furrowed brows as we approached it.

"Clint said it's a safehouse." he answered, eyeing the house as well.

My brows furrowed deeper, listening intently to the noises that I could hear coming from the house. It was faint, but it was unmistakeable. "But, there's people inside."

Steve furrowed his brows upon hearing my skeptical words and eyes the house in thought. The assumption when someone claims a place as a safehouse is for it to be completely barren. It was unusual for the case to be different, unless of course it was occupied by outsiders seeking shelter. It wasn't often that a personal safehouse was used for other people that you know; it defeats the purpose of it being a secret place to lay low.

"Well, let's hope it's safe." Barton cut in, looking back at us as he opened the front door and let us inside one by one. "Honey? I'm home!"

There was a collective wave of confusion over the entire team as we glanced around the clearly well-lived-in home. There were pictures in frames everywhere, with potted plants scattered across window frames and multiple magnets on the walk-in kitchen fridge with a few pieces of papers on it. It was all quite tidy, but kept that sense of being lived in and used, daily. I could smell the scent of who lived here; the house practically reeked of it. A female, most definitely, judging by the distinct smell of female-based hygiene products and perfumes, and it mixed with a different scent that made my brows furrow even deeper, making my head spin a little more from the sheer amount of confusion and shock I felt. I almost missed the legos that were sprawled across the floor.

A woman stepped towards us from around the corner of the house with colorful paper bags in her hands. She was quite pretty, with rich brown silky hair that fell down to her ribs in loose waves, brown eyes, and a very pregnant belly. All of us eyed her quizzically and in shock, having not known that Barton had a "honey."

But, that wasn't all that had me in shock.

"Company. Sorry, didn't call ahead." Barton explained as he slowly stepped towards her with a small, warm smile.