The Los Angeles Operation

Five

Natasha left the Helicarrier after her talk with Coulson. She didn't think she could stand another second there. She sought nothing but solitude, something she had barely been able to get the past week. The drive to her apartment seemed to take a life-time with all the thoughts running through her head.

She finally arrived and hurriedly climbed the stairs to her home and unlocked the door. Something seemed to gnaw at her insides, causing panic where there should be none. The feeling came out of nowhere and seemed to attack her. She slammed the door behind her.

She knew this feeling. She was running from something. But what? There wasn't anyone chasing her. No one was attacking her. So what was she running from?

She sat down on her couch and put her head in her hands. What was wrong with her? There was no reason for her to feel so depressed and angry. Clint could lead his own life without her permission. He could do whatever he wanted as far as she was concerned. She wasn't his mother and she couldn't tell him what to do or who to fall in love with.

Why did she care?

She leaned back and took a deep breath. She needed something to get her mind off of everything. She stood up and walked over to the TV stand where she had stacked all of the movies she had. Some of them she had bought for the heck of it, but most of them were from Clint or Coulson.

She smirked to herself. Most women in their twenties had at least ten chick flicks in their collection, and not many action movies. All Natasha had was action movies. It was pretty sad, really. She spent some of her free time watching movies that had blood and gore and violence and assassins and spies and was almost exactly like what her life was. You'd think she needed a break from all of the pain and adrenaline, but no. The truth was, she lived off of it. When she needed an escape from her life, she picked up a book.

Natasha opened the case to The Matrix and placed the DVD in the player. She sat back on her couch and turned the TV on. It took about fifteen seconds for it to boot up before she played the DVD and did her best to forget her own problems.

Clint pulled up at the steak house in his black Impala.

"Oh, wow," Barbara said. "If I had known we were coming here I would have dressed nicer."

"No big deal," Clint said. "The owner and staff are pretty chill. No one's gonna judge us."

Morse looked at him for a moment, seeing the longing and saddened look in his eyes that he tried to cover up with a smile. She was good at reading people.

"You wish she was here, don't you?"

Clint looked at her. "Who's 'she'?"

"Agent Romanoff."

Clint hesitated. "No, not really."

"Then why did you hesitate?"

"Well, I see her all the time. It would be little ridiculous if I wanted to spend all of my time with her."

"No, it wouldn't."

Clint didn't respond.

"I know you love-"

"Are we going to eat or not?" Clint opened the car door and climbed out.

Morse took the hint and stopped talking. She opened the car door and got out. She shut the door and heard Clint lock the car.

"Why an Impala?" she asked.

"I like the way they handle."

"Isn't a black Impala the icon of some new TV show?"