No. 12. Broken Down/Broken Bones/Broken Trust
I Think I've Broken Something
"I trusted you!" Clint screamed into the air, stumbling backwards on his broken ankle. "I trusted you to get us there and you didn't! You're a failure!"
"Clint."
"You failed us!"
"Clint."
"What?!"
"You're yelling... at a truck."
"So what?" Clint snapped. "Every bit of what I just said is true!"
Natasha let out an exasperated laugh through her nose. "You're weird." Natasha looked at the broken down truck, and sighed. Clint was right, though. The truck wasn't going anywhere, and that was their only way of fast escape. They could hear the sound of motorbikes in the distance.
"Quick, let's get to the trees!" Natasha said, dashing into the forest, clutching her injured arm to her chest. Clint hobbled after her as quickly as he could. "Can you climb a tree?" she asked.
"Are you kidding me? Climbing trees is my middle name!"
"Alright, let's go!" Natasha shot up the nearest tree, disappearing into the leaves. Clint leapt up another tree, just as the motorbikes on the road ground to a halt near their broken down truck. Clint groaned as he pulled himself up, trying to not cry out as he put pressure on his broken ankle.
"'Tasha, my ankle's broken," he groaned as he pulled himself further up. Natasha glared at him from the nearby tree as he groaned in pain.
"So's my arm but I'm not complaining! Now hush!" she admonished, pointing downward. He glanced down, and saw their pursuers down below. He sucked in a breath and bit down on his coat sleeve.
"Where did they go?" one of the men asked, as he pulled his gun.
"They couldn't have gone far!" The other replied. They disappeared deeper into the woods.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Clint hissed through the branches. Natasha nodded, and they shimmied down the trees and back to the road. They tossed their legs over the motor bikes and shot away into the distance, leaving the broken down truck and the men behind them.