Clint POV
Romanoff and Stark move into the hallway. I glanced around and once again felt a sense of familiarity. Light headedness engulfed me and I braced a hand on the wall to keep from falling over.
How was I back at Stark's? The last thing I remember was Russia...
The lightheadedness took over once again and I straightened as Romanoff walked back in looking upset.
"God! Why did you have to do that!" She yelled, shoving me slightly.
I narrowed my eyes at her and she studied me.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"I'm fine," I snapped curtly.
"Okay. You just looked sick."
I rolled my eyes and took my hand off the wall.
"It's about an hour until dinner," she said.
"So um, I can show you around or you can sleep if you want?"
"Sleep," I said immediately.
She nodded and looked me over quickly before showing me to my "old" room.
I stretched out on the bed and welcomed the sleep that I had been deprived of.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was raining and I freezing my ass off. Where was she?
"Eyes on the target yet, Barton?" Coulson asked.
"No sir. No sign of her," I said, suppressing a shiver.
"Call it a day, Clint. You'll get pneumonia."
I snorted and just shifted slightly on the roof.
"It's just rain, Coulson. It's not gonna stop her, why should it stop me?" I asked.
"Do what you want, Clint. I'm not going to-"
There was a flash of red on the street below me.
"I've got a visual," I interrupted and crept along the edge of the roof.
The wind tore through my uniform and I jumped to the next building. I followed her for a few streets hoping to God she hasn't noticed I'm there. We ended up in one of the deserted sections of the city.
"Barton?"
I reached up and turned the comm off. I needed to be able to focus. The rain poured all the harder until there was a good half foot of water around my ankles. I knocked an arrow and aimed at the woman with red hair. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow.
As if she sensed my presence and the arrow that was aimed at her, she looked up.
She looked tired. Not tired as in she hasn't slept. More like she's tired of running, tired of how she's having to live, constantly watching her own back. I pressed my lips into a thin line and we stared at each other for the longest time.
"Would you like a job?" I called down over the rain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Clint. Clint wake up."
I sat up and looked at Romanoff. Why was she always in my dreams?
"You alright?" She asked.
"Fine."
"Okay. Jarvis just said your vitals were off. It's time for dinner."
"Not hungry," I said.
"Well you should eat."
I shook my head and motioned for her to leave. Instead she sat on the bed. Her fingers were on my wrist as she checked my pulse. I was suddenly aware of how quick and uneven it was.
"What were you dreaming about?" She asked, letting go of my wrist with a worried frown.
"Does it matter?"
"Does it?" She replied, pulling out her phone.
She sent someone a quick text.
"No."
"Then what was it about?" She asked, taking my wrist once more and checking my pulse.
I scowled and yanked it away from her.
"None of your business. It was a dream," I said firmly, trying to convince myself as well.
My head felt really light and I tried to keep from swaying where I sat near the edge of the bed. My heartbeat thudded much too fast in my ears until it was the only thing I could hear.
I don't usually dream. Why was I dreaming about her like I knew her?
The room became darker and I tried rubbing my eyes to make it clearer. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. I finally gave up on trying to stay awake and let myself black out.
