Blackbird
Chapter one:
"Blackbird singing in the dead on night."
(The Beatles)
I felt the blade on my neck; cool, sharp metal being pressed just hard enough that a trickle of blood ran down my chest.
"This isn't you, this isn't you, this is-." My voice came out in trembles, lacking any of it's usual compose. I had lost it, I was loosing everything. This wasn't a battle I could win, I couldn't even fight it. I felt tears trickling down my face to my neck, mixing in with my sweat and blood along the way. The awful cliche of all that I had put into this.
What can I say? Clint always was the one I would cry infront of.
I thought he had come to, his eyes returned to their color and he looked almost apologetic, but he pressed the blade further into my skin. I couldnt feel pain, but I also couldn't breathe, the blood was rushing into my asophogus and down to my lungs. Despite the grotesque sound of my gurgling, I screamed.
"CLINT!"
He quickly dropped me along with the weapon causing my back hit the hard floor with a sickening splat, newly freed hands flew to my neck in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. The archer's mouth was agape, hazel eyes wide and glazed over as if he was four years old all over again, just learning of his parents deaths. He lunged for me once again and I tried my best to move away, when he reached for me I shred away like his skin was made of fire. I struggled against him until I realized that he wasn't trying to harm me. He was just holding me there, murmuring my name over again. Oh, Nat, Nat, Nat.
A light suddenly appeared above us and I couldn't help but ponder it's source. ''Not heaven,' I thought, 'not for me.' Though I knew whatever fate was coming for me inescapable. I shut my burning eyes, attempting to escape the bright light. Clint shook me, yelling at me, over and over again.
"Natasha, Natasha open your eyes!"
"Nat!"
I gasped, opening my eyes to Clint hovering over me. No blood, no knife, only tired hazel eyes and messy hair. I must have woken him, no. He was already awake, Clint doesn't sleep much anymore.
"You alright?" He frowned, brushed my red locks from around my neck, and then out of my face. The dark circles under his eyes seemed especially prominent and I nodded, even though of did want to discuss the dream, the poor man was already too worried. Clint didn't need anything else on his brain.
"You screamed." He was quiet now, tracing my jaw with his thumb and for a second I forgot about the dream, I even forgot about New York. But then he touched my neck and his skin turned into fire all over again. I jumped, he frowned.
"Let's get some sleep Clint." You haven't slept in days. I rolled over, pulling him down with me and didn't shudder when he wrapped his arms around me. I was thankful for subtle sounds of rain on the window, for him holding me like I was the paper he had burned, I was thankful for the quiet, but-
"Clint."
"Hm?"
"Why is the light on?"
"Jaaaarrviiisssss."
This one's short, just over 500 words. Not a very impressive first chapter if you ask me. This story won't be very climatic, mainly just 'one shots' and things about different points in Clint and Natasha's relationship, centered around the strain put on the two of them after the events of The Avengers.
Thank all for reading! (:
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own ideas, Black Widow and Hawkeye are both property of Marvel.