Love Is For Children ~Hawkeye & Black Widow (Part One & Two)

Missing

Numb

That's it. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't speak or move. He just couldn't do anything.

Clint was perched on the seat by his window in his apartment; just like a hawk - but far from sharp. His hair was matted and greasy, his eyes blood-shot and leaning on deep, dark bags. It had been one week, and Clint had never felt so empty, so sick or so...lost.

He ignored his surroundings. He ignored the sound of his stomach rumbling, he ignored the calls on his cell, and he ignored any thoughts that weren't about her.

Natasha.

He remembered watching her stumble out of the hot-tub after too much champagne, how interesting it was to watch her when she was intoxicated. Although drunk, she still had a hint of composure hidden beneath her alcohol lined blood-stream, she could fall about and slur her words, but he could see the fire still a light in her eyes, and that gave him hope.

He re-called the break down. How her castle of composure crumbled around her, her whole being of life was torn in ways no-one could ever heal and she finally realized that, she could have broke the house, she could have broke the town, she could have broke Clint - but he stayed. He wrapped his arms around her and caught her as she crashed, and then piece by piece they built her back together. 

He thought about the last time they made love, the night before she was taken. He remembered how she tasted as he ran his tongue along her collar bone; he almost smiled remembering how she shivered when he sunk his fingertips into her hips, and how she said his name over and over again as they came to an end.

He finally had Natasha, the way he'd always wanted. As a friend, a colleague and a reckless lover, and then she were gone in the blink of an eye. Fury had sent Clint home, promising him he could come back in a week, and then fill him in on what they'd found, but all the promises and pieces of false hope couldn't help him, he was just numb.

Clint had been staring at the outside world, watching people pass by on the street - he even imagined seeing Natasha get out of a cab across the street, her face covered in cuts and bruises as she hopped across the street to his apartment, but those were just mere strands of hope. 

He drifted in and out of sleep - not by choice - and each time he'd dream about her. The nightmares would go on for hours, such vivid nightmares of losing her again and again, and then there were the nice dreams, the dreams where she was back; she'd be enveloped in his arms, telling him some old Russian joke that she'd laugh at more than him, but he'd laugh too, because it was best thing to watch her be happy - but those dreams ended much sooner than he'd like, and he'd once again return to the cold reality where she was still gone.

Clint blinked, and then slowly moved his head until he met eyes with the calendar on the wall - today he could do something, he could fulfil his promise. He said he'd never leave her, he'd promised to protect her and he was failing that promise, and that made the anger coarse through his veins again. He got up from the window seat - his muscles aching from their time locked in that position - then headed over to his bathroom. 

After showering, he skipped the kitchen, picked up his duffel bag and headed back to S.H.I.E.L.D, his mind dead set on one thing and one thing only.

Getting Natasha back.

"Agent Barton! You're...back" Agent Hill smiled in a feeble manner, trying to keep up with him as he stormed through the freshly touched up hallways. Clint tensed up automatically as he passed through the hallway that he had seen her last, but he took a deep breath and continued. "Do you want me to get you a cup of coffee"? Maria asked, not sure what to say at this point. 

"No" Clint deadpanned, stressing the fact he didn't want to stop and chat over a cup of coffee; he just wanted to get into action. He passed into the boarder rooms, ignoring the uncomfortable silence that struck as he entered the room; Clint didn't give a damn.

"Fury" Clint growled. "Fury" Clint almost shouted, only clipping his tone an ounce. Fury shook his head subtly, before spinning around to the sounds of Clint's voice. "When does the rescue mission go into play"? Clint's dry and tired eyes didn't once glance away from Fury, who stayed silent with lips pressed into a thin line. "Fury, answer me" Clint lowered his tone.

Fury stepped closer to Clint while contemplating his next words carefully. "If you lost your dog, what would you do, Barton"? Fury stroked the stubble on his neck while watching Clint wrap around his words before processing them.

"I'd put up missing dog posters" Clint smirked a tad, but it soon vanished. Fury noticed the frowning creases between his eyebrows, and how even if he weren't scowling or frowning, they were still slightly there; the weight he'd carried on his shoulders and all the things he'd seen were bound to do that to a man. 

"We can't exactly put up 'Missing Black Widow' posters around New York, can we"? Fury smiled for a split second before exchanging it for amore solemn expression. "If your dog had somehow wandered off to somewhere unknown, how could you find it"? Fury crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'd go out and find him" Clint's patience was wearing thin; his knuckles were turning white as they gripped at his sides.

"You could never look everywhere, it's impossible" Fury pressed the matter before dropping his arms.

"I could try" Clint said through gritted teeth; his shoulders becoming rigid as he breaths came in a more abrupt manner.

"Try again, Barton" Nick sighed, watching the torment Clint was going through - the same torment he had started to see Natasha go through when Clint had been compromised. 

"Tell me, Fury"! Clint exclaimed, raising both clenched fists above his waist. The agents in the room were looking cautiously between the two men, pausing their typing and conversing to witness the debate. 

"There's one other thing you seemed to have forgotten. I'll ask again - what do you do when your pet goes missing"? Fury stared directly at Clint, praying he'd get the connotation of what he was asking. Clint took in his question again, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he thought about the question, he thought for a few minutes; tearing the question apart mentally, thinking about what he'd actually do and how it relates to Natasha, and that's when it clicked.

"Chip. A tracking chip" Clint's lips turned up a fraction weakly. How could he be so dense as to forget?

"Bingo was the dog’s name. The tracking device on Natasha should help lead us, depending on whether it shows up, or whether HYDRA has taken the tracking device out of her. We've just got to wait till we can get control of our systems again - Stark and Banner are working on that as we speak" 

"What do they even want with her"? Clint huffed angrily, grumbling to himself while thinking about all the worst case scenarios.

"Don't get yourself worked up, Barton. Go and get some sleep, food, a drink or just anything to stop you from blowing up and making a mess, I just had these walls re-painted" Fury rubbed his hands together, nodded and then headed back towards some of the monitors and the perplexed agents waiting for commands. 

As soon as the system was up and running, they had a chance to track down Natasha, and one thing was certain, once Clint had found her co-ordinates, nothing was going to stop him from going on this rescue mission.