Diavolo

twenty three - Deja Vu

The hospital room had plain white walls not peeling or dirty, no signs of blood. Just white. On the hospital bed laid a girl covered in bandages, her cuts were now closed up with stitches. She laid there with her eyes closed but she was fully conscious, listening to the beeping machine that surrounded her bed. Her heartbeat was the only indication of her existence. After a few minutes had gone past she slowly opened her eyes, taking in the bland hospital room, she was attached to multiple machines by her bedside with wires and cables. 

In the corner of the room where there was a blue couch, laid a tall light-skinned male with curly dark hair, he seemed at least 6 foot. Although his features were breathtaking, the girl could only focus her attention on the gun lying on the table next to him.

She lifted the sheets off her body and carefully attempted to get out of the bed. Once on her feet, she fought off the drowsiness and nausea whilst pulling the plug out of the machines and taking out the cables that were attached to her skin.

The gun was now within arm's length, his eyes were still closed when she slowly reached for it. His hand like a snake shot up to grab the gun but he was too slow. The gun was in the hands of his opponent.

As if it was her instinct she cocked the gun back and pointed it right at him, exactly the way she was told to in training. However, the reaction she got was what took her by surprise. He had a smirk plastered on his face with an eyebrow raised. He showed no fear, not like her other victims.

"Hello love," His voice was raspy and low.

"You seem awfully calm for someone who's about to die," She states tightening her grip on the firearm.

He shrugged clearly amused by her lack of empathy, "I learnt from the best."

"You have 60 seconds to tell me why I'm here, why your people saved me and who that guy was." 

"You're here because this is where you belong, we saved you because you were drowning and the guy," he paused, "that was Roman."

It took her a few minutes to process what he said, he looked at her like he could see the cogs turning in her head, "None of this makes any sense, I've never seen this place in my whole life. Are we even still in Russia?"

"No, we're not. Listen to me," he attempted to reach for her hand, noticing how she flinched at his touch. His hurt expression was all she saw when she moved away. "I can't answer all your questions right now...but you have to trust me on this, we're here to help you. I would never ever hurt you." 

She wasn't the girl who trusted people, there wasn't a single person who she trusted. Trust was earned not only by words but by actions. In spite of that, the look in his eyes felt familiar to her somehow, that feeling of being home. That's what it felt like looking into his eyes.

"I can't promise my full cooperation." She admitted, "What's your name?" 

He smiled, seeing her attempt to try and understand, "Theo Grey."

"Theo Grey," She tested the name on her lips, then offered her hand to him. "I'm Natasha Romanoff."

He took her hand and shook it, regardless of what her name was. "You should get some rest, you've got fractured ribs and internal bleeding."

"But I feel fine." She lied ignoring the shooting pain every time she moved, all she wanted was answers and lying in bed wasn't going to get her anywhere. "I need to get back to work."

"No darling. Not happening." He stated, "There's clothes in the bathroom, get changed and I'll take you for some food."

"Again. Don't tell me what to do." She pressed. "...and just a heads up, it's empty." She said throwing the gun at him.