Another! ...This is long... Damn. I just couldn't stop writing though and just had to eventually! Yeah, they won't all be this long.. I think..
Half way through an exam and a billion story ideas hit me! Exam proctors probably thought I was mad because I was just furiously scribbling notes on my hand :P Gotta love exams lads, gotta love exams!
Reviewers, my lovely lovely reviewers!
Fur-Natalia; Emmm.. It'll all become clear, ok? Relax! I promise you! :) Thank your for the review and for reading!
Niom Lamboise; I really do look forward to your reviews! Might see a fair bit of that in this story, I like this story alot! :P Enjoy my dear!
Enjoy folks! Review and let me know what to do next! Might be able to change my mind!
Disclaimer! I own nothing to do with Marvel! Ok? Ok!
"Nat, it's cold!" He complained with a shiver, trying his best to shift to a comfortable position on the rooftop.
"Really? Cause I'm nice and happy by this fire." She replied, and even though it was through the comms, he could just tell she had a smirk on.
He gave a low growl and looked through the sniper rifles scope once more, scanning the room of the club until he found Natasha once again.
"One bullet, Widow.." He growled out, his shivering only coming under control when his fingers were over the trigger. He was a professional, in this situation at least, so he knew how to steady his nerves at the right moment.
"Oh, it'll take more than that to get rid of me." She laughed back, and this time the scope let him see that she was indeed smirking away to herself. "You should know that by now, Hawkboy."
He let the conversation drop when a gentleman approached Natasha, two drinks in his hands. Chancer, as far as Barton could remember no one even asked her if she wanted a drink.
They were on this stake out for a good three hours now, but while she was getting herself all done up in a (he'd admit it) damn fine get up, he was up on the freezing cold roof for hours before hand.
So she's been in the nice fancy pancy warm theatre, in her little too tight, little too revealing, black dress, getting free drinks from guys and getting evil looks from women as their boyfriends and husbands stared at her a little too long.
As for Barton? Well he's been lying on his stomach, staring through a scope of a rifle, on a freezing roof top, in nothing but his black tact vest and combats, in the dead of Winter, in Chicago. How come she always got the easy jobs!?
This was their third day on the mission. The second was spent trying to a) sober Clint's ass up and get him over a hangover from hell, and b) gather intel from the little newbie agents about where they think these Hydra folk would be.
One main Hydra guy was said to get an invitation to this gala/some sort of play world premier thing, so that meant the ever beautiful Natasha Romanoff was to go undercover once again, try single this guy out, and bring him back their room. For some fun!
Not the thugs definition of fun, no no, Black Widow's definition of fun!
"Not our guy..?" Clint asked softly, after his partner politely turned down the guy who came over. He was smirking a little. That girly giggle she gives when she's undercover always amused him!
"Photographic memory, Clinton. I know the guy we're looking for." She replied softly, and he just sighed and let his head fall away from the scope.
"Quit calling me Clinton, Natalia!" He growled, just letting his forehead rest on the roof now. This mission was already annoying him!
"Sorry, Francis." Damn that voice.. She was trying to wind him up!
He growled once more and raised his head, purposely clicking the safety off the rifle loudly so she'd hear before aiming it at her.
"Just gimmie a reason, Romanoff!"
He smiled slightly when she faced the window, the one he told her to stay by, and signed the words 'Relax little Hawk.'. She knew him too well. That nick-name always calmed him down, no matter the situation.
She died her hair that day. Getting rid of the trade mark red hair for a blonde this time. Short too. He didn't like it, not even a little bit. But Hydra were moles inside SHIELD for so long that the first sight of long red hair would be an instant give away. Not that it made her face look that different, but little low level thugs wouldn't really be able to tell it was the infamous Black Widow.
"Got a 20." He finally heard over the comms, having just been sitting there for another half hour humming to himself while some guy chatted up Natasha.
Ok, maybe he was humming because he couldn't listen to her flirt back, maybe he couldn't look at her get close to another guy, maybe he might be a little bit jealous.. Even though he knew that the way she was talking to them was completely and totally fake, he just wished that she'd talk like that with him again. The little giggles, the soft voice, even the little arm touch when she thought she went too far with a joke..
He shook his head of the thoughts currently swimming around his mind and set up his aim, sure enough, a familiar looking face was walking through the crowd, stopping and talking to people.
Not old, not young. Kind of around his age actually.. Damn that meant he wasn't young but was kind of old.. What the hell was a middle-aged man like himself doing lying on his stomach on a roof!?
Mission BARTON!
God, he got distracted so easily lately!
The suit annoyed him. Only assholes wore grey suits. It was a fact! They wanted to stand out, get noticed. They're attention hungry, ego hungry, assholes.
Getting too worked up Barton..
Why are you talking to yourself Barton..
"Oh, excuse me.." Natasha said in her sweet voice, he could just hear it over the comms, drawing his attention back to the mission. He shook his head a little and tried find her with the scope.
Sure enough, she had bumped into the guy and spilled her drink 'accidentally' and was now apologising profusely, saying that she may have had one too many free champagnes.
He smirked a little. The guy was eating this up. A sweet talking, hot as hell itself woman coming over, proclaiming she's too drunk to even hold her drink properly? What asshole wouldn't jump at that opportunity?
"Well that's perfectly ok, Mrs..?" He spoke softly, taking her arm without even asking to lead her off somewhere.
Assshole asshole asshole..
Can you tell yet Hawkeye really dislikes this guy already?
Clint struggled to keep his sights on them. Windows tended to disappear around where they were going. But he knew Natasha, she was trying her best to keep them by windows so Hawkeye could keep a shot open in case she needed it.
"Miss Sullivan." She smiled, gratefully accepting a napkin he handed her to wipe the drink from her dress. She over exaggerated the miss.
Clint had nothing to fear. He may as well pack up. This guy was caught hook, line and sinker.
"Well, miss Sullivan.." He started, and Clint noted that he was leaning in a little closer to her, his hand on her arm. He couldn't make out faces, not let alone their expressions, that well though, it was way to dark for that. "This play isn't quite my standard. How about I take you back home so you can sleep this off?"
Well, he doesn't wait around, does he? Clint scoped the building out once more, feeling something was off. A van had pulled up outside then took off a little too quickly, that was never a good sign.
Doing a quick scan, he finally noticed three guys trying to jimmy open a side door to the little theatre.
"Got a 20 on three." He said calmly to the comms, and he could hear Natasha excusing herself to the ladies room just after agreeing to leave with him. Mission mode, so mission voice was on Clint for this. "Orders?"
"Don't shoot." She replied after a moment or two, she must have found it difficult to find a quiet place. The trio already had the door open and had entered. "Rifle or arrows. Do not shoot. We can't have him notice. Can you get them?"
"Yes ma'am." He replied curtly. Mission mode! She was his boss on this one! He stood and quickly dismantled the rifle before packing it back in it's case, his bow and arrows sitting on either side outside of it too just in case. Wasn't a heavy thing, so it easy sat on his back like a quiver as he ran off and climbed down the fire escape.
"Careful Hawk. Still don't know why they're targeting this place." She was quiet now, mission mode gone as her voice softened. He couldn't help but smile at it. "I'll hog this guy and bring him to warehouse three. Meet me there, no more than an hour, got it?"
"Yes ma'am. Meet you there 23:07. Bring the whiskey!" He replied with a slight grin, crossing the street to the jimmied open door and sneaking in himself.
He didn't have any idea where the trio would have gone, but luckily the corridor literally only went one way. So he hurried along it to hopefully catch up,
No shooting, Barton.
He had to keep reminding himself of that, because his hand kept going to reach for the bow resting on his back.
He paused and flushed himself against the wall when he began to hear hushed voices, not making out any words right now though. They were close though, that much he could tell.
"Widow, you still there..?" He whispered into the comm unit, getting nothing back though. Damn, she was already out of range.. He knew they should have grabbed Stark's comms before they left! Those things just don't run out of range!
He sighed in annoyance and rest his head against the wall for a moment, taking a moment to think things through without Widow! He had heard the click of a gun, he needed to know if he was allowed shoot if they shoot first but his commanding officer decided to fuck off with some guy!
Can't draw attention to the fact we're here Barton.. News would just LOVE that..
Yeah, 'Avengers shoot up an opening for world renowned play'! Oh, Stark Public Relations would earn their money's worth with that one!
With no response, he was on his own. No orders. Just how he liked it! He'd play nice though, so he just made sure that the knife that was positioned in his boots was easy to grab. He's fine with hand to hand, but not when guns are involved!
"So, guys, listen.." He said as he finally caught up to the trio, though there were only two at some door. Both their guns trained instantly on Barton so he put his arms in the air to show he wasn't a threat. He had left the case with his gun and bow by the wall before he drew their attention. He hadn't a clue where the third guy disappeared to, but the door had a sign saying "RAFTERS; STAGE" on it, so he had a fair idea. "I really don't wanna fight.. I'm still fighting a hangover here, and I lost contact with Widow, and I just.."
"Who the hell are you!?" The guy on the left screamed, and he pouted at the question. He might not be in hie SHIELD gear, or Stark funded fancy Avengers design suit, but come on!
He at least hoped some bad guys would know about Hawkeye; the most handsome and favourite Avenger! ...Ok, like, fifth favourite.. Out of the five guys..
"Come on man! Don't be that way!" He pouted, visibly deflating when both men looked at each other in confusion. "Really?"
He sighed in annoyance and shook his head, he was really hoping he could just talk to these guys! They looked like idiots though. It seemed they hadn't even thought of shooting, had even began to lower their guns.
It'd take him two seconds to deal with these..
And that it did!
In one swift movement, the knife was pulled from his boot and sent into the guy on the right's shoulder. He didn't even feel bad about it. He kind of felt bad that his surprise attack might have been ruined by the man's scream, and the sound of his gun hitting the floor. But that's about it!
His comrade was less than no help, too stunned to even think of attacking Clint as the first guy fell to the floor in pain. Definitely Hyrda. Any other bad guys could handle this sort of thing no problem.
By the time the non-stabbed one had recovered from his shock and realised what was happening, Clint had the gun ripped from his hands and was pinning him to the door by an arm across the throat. He was in no mood for shit tonight!
"What are you..!" He started to yell, trying to pry Barton's arm from his throat. He was cut off though when Clint quite casually kneed him in the balls.
"Just skip all this, will ya kid?" He sighed, using his free hand to rub his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on! "Just tell me what Hydra are doing here?"
"But.." He started through a pained voice, squirming a little since he couldn't really ease the discomfort currently radiating from his lower area.
"I said skip it man!" Clint sighed, shaking his head a little. He glanced down when he noticed the other guy reach for his gun, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Without letting thug number one go, he reached down and grabbed the knife roughly from thug number two's shoulder. He screamed just as much when it was ripped out, but Clint shut him up by knocking him out with a kick to the head.
"Where were we?" Hawkeye asked with a little smile, pulling his attention back to the guy was pinned against the door. "Oh! Didn't catch your name, kid!"
He let the guy fall to the floor, and he instantly curled up protectively against the wall. Barton gave a slightly sad smile and hunkered down in front of him, knife resting gently on his knee just to remind the kid it was there.
"Sorry about that. But I don't have time for bullshitting, y'know?" Barton smiled, and the kid just glared at him. "And y'kind of upset me by asking who I am.. I mean, I know I don't have my bow and arrow with me, but.."
He stopped when he saw recognition pass over the kids face, and he had to grin when the fear appeared.
"You're too late, archer.." He said quickly, and Barton raised an eyebrow as a silent way of telling him to continue. "Our man's probably in position already.. Target will be taken out in no time."
"Target..?" Barton asked curiously, and the guy just grinned.
"Hail Hydra.." The guy said quietly before crunching something that fell from behind his tooth, and Clint cursed out loud.
It had happened so many damn times and he hated it each bloody time it did!
They'd get a Hydra asshole, take him for questioning, and that damn World War Two cyanide trick would ALWAYS happen!
He checked the kids pulse when the convulsing stopped and, sure, enough he couldn't find any. He scratched the back of his head a little as he thought about what to do. Looking up and down the hall, he couldn't find anywhere to hide the two. So he just had to leave them. He put the knife back in his boot, kicked the guns away in case the still living of the two woke, and went to get the case with his weapons.
What target were they talking about..?
There are so many potential targets here. It was a world premier of some fancy pancy play. A gala was put on, a dinner, a champagne reception, the whole nine yards. There were diplomats, celebrities, important business owners.
It didn't matter who it was, he decided. A civilian needed help. It was his job to help.
Sometimes he hated his job..
With a sigh, he slung the container with his weapons on his back and entered the door to the rafters.
It was dark up there. Maybe not, maybe below was just too bright with the stage lights on.
And holy crap was it cramped! The rafters were built for single person to work, so it was a tight fit for someone to walk across. He tried be silent, but the shake of the steel rafter would give away his approach in no time.
He got to the middle of the walk way and he was still yet to see someone. This seriously confused him. If someone was taken out, the place would be in a panic, but they were all still happily watching the play below.
If someone was setting up to take someone out, he'd be able to see someone by now, even with how dark it was.
There was only one door and that was the one he came in through, so there was no where for the guy to go.
He paused when he heard a familiar 'click'. He had only heard it a short time ago when he was messing around with Natasha.
He glanced down and spotted it. A figure, a little blacked out since the bight lights of the stage were messing with his eyes, but there nonetheless. Sticking over the side was the familiar sight of an assault rifle. Not a subtle machine at all, but it gets the job done better than any.
You're crazy, Barton.. This is gonna kill you..
He told himself that three times in a row as the plan crossed his mind, then about a billion more times when he enacted it.
Holding onto the side rails of the rafter he was on, he threw himself off the side, swung himself downwards and kicked the guy away from the gun. He was lucky enough not to overshoot the rafter below, so he landed on it relatively safely. The gun didn't fall, didn't move, so he realised the guy set it up to clip onto the railing. That gave Barton some sort of comfort. It usually meant the shooter wasn't a good enough shot, couldn't hold the gun steady so he needed help from his surroundings.
Barton was barely on steady feet for a moment before a fist was flown his way, but he had enough wherewithal to duck and avoid the blow. When crouched, he swung a leg around to take the guys feet from under him. With a solid 'thump', his attacker fell onto his back. Clint grabbed the knife from his boot once more and went to lean over the guy, knife held over his throat with Clint's knee firmly placed on his stomach to hold him down.
"Agent Barton.. Good to see you again.." The guy whispered with a slight smirk, and Clint had to eye him for a moment to try see if he could place the kid.
Nothing special about the guy. Wore black clothes, just like Barton was wearing, because that's what's smart people wear when they're trying not to be seen! Hair was gelled back, had a comms in his ear which, when Barton saw it, he very quickly ripped from the kids ear so he couldn't get the chance to call for back-up.
One main feature was sticking out though, a long scar going across his cheek. He grinned a little, finally knowing where he knew this kid from.
"Sorry, can't say I remember your name.." Barton started with his grin, increasing the pressure a little with the knife on his throat. "Though I do remember shooting an arrow at you alright, y'little maggot."
SHIELD training. He was put in charge of training up all the little newbies for a while when he was being punished for letting Natasha live. That was a horrible year. Started with strict desk work, then training the newbies, then like level 2 missions with the little newbies before he was allowed out of punishment. They claim it was Fury giving him time to let the bullet hole Natasha gave him heal. But he knew Fury better than that. He was pissed off that Clint disobeyed orders, so he was getting his own back by making him pay!
This kid was a particularly mouthy recruit who just constantly gave Barton a hard time. So, he shot an arrow at the smug bastard during one sparring session where he constantly called the other recruits jokes and failures, not to kill, just to scrape and mess up his pretty boy attitude by ruining his face. 14 stitches ensured that happened! It was a good day that day! That was the day Fury decided he probably shouldn't be trusted with snot nose recruits with god complexes!
"You always were selfish like that.." The kid growled, trying to roll to change their positions. But please, gotta do more than that to shake off Hawkeye! "That's why I had to just leave SHIELD! Too many corrupt agents like you!"
Barton rolled his eyes at the kids words, shaking his head a little then. Same old Hydra bullshit. He never knew what the hell they were going on about, and this time was no different. He needed answers though, just so he knew who the hell to try protect. "Who're you targeting man? Come on, I don't wanna fight."
"Too bad. I owe you one." He grinned back in reply, and before Barton could react and block it, the kids arm broke free from its confinement and whacked him on the side of the head.
Clint went flying over, and as a double 'fuck you Mr. Barton!', the other side of his head whacked painfully off the bar of the rafter.
He gave a quiet chuckle as he tried push himself up to his feet. This reminded him a little too much of fighting Nat on the carrier now..
He shook his head to try clear the stars in his vision, looking over to see the kid at the rifle again.
He couldn't take that now! With a new clear head, he ran for the guy and tackled him to the ground, but his finger was over the trigger so the impact of the tackle made the rifle go off. Clint heard screams and panicked shouts, and he just cursed to himself.
Please lord let no one be hit!
He got up from ontop of the shooter and rushed to the rifle, looking through the scope to see if it hit anything.
No one's slumped over, no one's being tended to.. There's just a nice big bullet hole in the wall..
Letting out a relieved sigh, he looked over to the Hydra assassin once again. This kid had to come with him, or be taken out. They couldn't let him wander the streets!
He froze though, because he was looking down the barrel of a pistol. The kid panting slightly as he stood, holding onto his ribs with his free arm.
Clint knew when he was beaten. He could admit such things. So he carefully raised his hands up, showing he wasn't a threat. He was wondering how quickly he could grab his bow from the case..
Somehow, he doubts he's quicker than a speeding bullet.
The knife though..
"You're a fool Barton!"
"Not the first time I've been told that, won't be the last." Clint cut him off with a slight grin, glancing to the right of him to see how close the knife was. Close enough. He just has to force the kid to make a mistake.
"That guy had to be taken out! And you just fucked it all up! You have no idea what he and his organisation are up to!" He was getting angry, Clint noticed his hand was shaking a little.
"More good than yours is up to, I can bet on that." Barton shrugged, testing the kids concentration by slowly shuffling towards the knife. The bullet just skimming his foot told him that the kid was paying more attention than he was letting on.
"Just trust me you ignorant piece of shit." He said lowly, though Barton had stopped listening. He was a little too busy focusing on how to get out of this with the kid taken out and his ass still kind of intact.
All plans had one common factor, and he hated it.
Gotta take a bullet, Barton..
Dammit, Tash was gonna kill him if this kid didn't!
"Fury and SHIELD gave you guys jack shit all information! Just the basics of who to take out or who to capture."
"Sometimes it's better not knowing the full story." He shrugged, knowing full well Hydra agents were told completely different things than SHIELD agents were.
Which version was true, he would never know. That's the downside to working with spies. No one can give all the secrets because no one knows them all.
This kid definitely doesn't know them all. He was just told to take someone out and he tried take him out. He's just an over glorified assassin as well.
"Then how do you know you're doing the world any good?" The kid asked, getting increasingly more annoyed if the grip on the gun was anything to go by.
Clint just shrugged. Again, he found he didn't care. He trusted Fury, trusted SHIELD. He's taken out enough bad guys in the world to know he's doing some sort of good.
He finally had a full plan in his head, and it ended with one of the two dying.
"Been fun man!" Clint grinned, turning to the side so the bullet he was about to take wouldn't hit anywhere vital. In a flash, he reached back to try grab his bow from the case on his back, though his arm quickly went numb with the bullet that embedded itself in his shoulder. Numbness never lasted long though..
Lord he didn't miss this pain!
He let out a slight yelp at the pain and fell to his knees, his opposite hand going to try staunch the blood flow coming from the wound on his left arm. Damn, it was high up.. The guy was aiming for the archers head..
The kid was laughing and advancing on Clint, arm now by his side with the gun still gripped. "Not as keen a sharp shooter as you, Hawk.." He started, raising the gun up to rest against the archers temple when he got close enough. Well, that was burning flesh! "But even I can't miss from this distance.."
"Kid, what's the basic 107 I taught you? First day?" Clint asked with a slight smirk, so glad right now that Hydra had some seriously shit agents.
He glanced up from the corner of his eye to see just the confused face of his former student, so he rolled his eyes.
Guess he'd have to show the kid again!
Why did he have to get shot? Simple. To get on the ground to safely get the gun, if not the gun the plan B; knife, and lead his attacker into the false security of getting closer to him.
Basic training 107. Literally first day exercises. Gun to the head is the most vulnerable position anyone can be in, both attacker and attacked. The attacked, for obvious reasons, because his brain could be blown out of his skull in a nanosecond. The attacker, well.
Y'know what? He'll just show how!
1. The attacker has his arm outstretched, so first off, swipe the arm.
With his good arm, Clint swung out and pushed the kids arm so the gun was pointing upwards instead.
2. While in shooting position, the attacker is off balance. Easy take down!
This was his favourite bit of this little routine! Sweeping the legs and watching them go down like a sack of potatoes! The kid let out a surprised squeal as he fell to the ground hard, Clint could hear his skull hit off the metal and even he felt bad for it! Simple as simple could be. The whole counter attack took less than a second and it changed the tabled entirely!
He would have grabbed the gun, but it rattled against the mental floor when it fell from the kids grip and he soon heard it hit the wooden floor below.
He let out a sigh and hung his head. Why can't things go his way!?
Oh well!
Plan B!
He simply grabbed the knife to the right of him before getting to his feet. He was bleeding a little too much, but that was fine, Natasha would patch him up! With a boot on the kids chest, and the knife being spun in the archers hand, he contemplated letting the poor guy go for a minute.
"Suppose you'll tell Anderson we're here the second I let you go, huh?" Clint asked through a hum, increasing the pressure on his chest when he tried wriggle free.
That look of fear on his eyes finally gave Clint the name that was eluding him. That same look crossed his face when an arrow was aimed at his head!
"William! Wally? Yeah, the other recruits called you wally!"
"Just kill me already, you asshole! If you don't, he will!" He spat out, and Barton hummed in thought.
"Man, you could've been a good agent.." He pouted, but he meant those words! The kid, with a little training, would have been perfect! Just needed work on those interrogation skills. Because he just gave away that Anderson was, in fact, here!
Clint noticed the familiar mouth movement while he studied the man below him. He was about to crunch that little killer pill.
Nah, Barton wouldn't let little Wally off that easily! Before the pill could be broken, and the usual 'Hail Hydra' bullshit muttered, Clint just stabbed the knife right through the kids throat.
The blood splattered up all over the archer, but he was used to that feeling. To him, it was a comfort. Meant he was safe, meant the battle was over.
With a kick of his boot, a choking and spluttering William went rolling and fell from the rafter to the now empty stage below.
And there he was, on the roof earlier, thinking he was going to have a nice and easy night!
With a rough sigh, he ripped the gun from the railing and slung it over his good shoulder. He winced a little at the pain from the bullet wound.
Now that the adrenaline was leaving him, he could feel it full force. He couldn't tell any more what was his blood and what was the kids. Either way, there was alot of it. He definitely had a concussion aswell, because while he was usually bad at keeping a straight thought, now it was just impossible.
Warehouse. Natasha. 23:07.
That's all that was going through his head.
It's 22:53..
So with his weapons, his bullet hole, his concussion, and his aching bones, he turned and went to leave the theatre. Not bothering to stop and help with the chaotic scene he had caused.
Why couldn't it have been an easy night..?
He kind of made it.
Sort of.
Like he found the place, but man was he late!
The warehouse she chose was, at least, the closest one to the theatre. So it should have been simple, right? But when you're concussed, with a gushing bullet wound, and in a sleeveless vest in winter, nothing is simple.
He left the theatre over forty minutes ago, and it took him that long to do a ten minute walk. He was paranoid that someone would follow, a little scared that those three had a chance to call someone. On his way out of the rafter's, he had to send a bullet through the kid he knocked out. He couldn't risk being discovered. If he was, if they were, then Anderson could high tail it and he probably wouldn't resurface for god knows how long!
He smiled a little when he turned the corner of yet another alley, finally seeing the trusty auto-mobile the pair had been crammed in together for 12 hours. Part of the plan. Capture someone, bring them somewhere hidden, and basically live in that place until the mission is complete. He wasn't looking forward to sleeping in a shot out, freezing cold, abandoned warehouse again after so long of having a nice warm home to stay in. But he was so looking forward to sleep, full stop!
His hand was doing next to nothing now to control the bleeding of his shoulder. He was trying to compress it, but he was absolutely freezing, he was tired, and he just couldn't be bothered anymore.
He had to remove his hand to open up the warehouse door, not knowing where his partner would be. It opened up to a big floor area. Dimly lit, Natasha must have managed to get some power into the place, because the few lone bulbs high up were dimly shining.
There were a few rooms leading off the main room, though he couldn't tell which one she would be in and he really didn't feel like going to check. He placed his weapon case and the gun he stole from the Hydra guys down after shutting the door behind him, scanning the place for a moment then.
He gave up and just called.
"Nat?" He tried shout, but could just manage to raise his voice a little bit. It was fine though, because the echo in the place carried it along.
Sure enough, she appeared from one of the rooms, thankfully not too far away.
She took one look at him and her angry face fell into one of worry. He couldn't tell if she was angry about him using her name while a captive was in the place or if it was because he was late. Either way, all anger just disappeared and worry seemed to set in more and more the closer they got to each other.
"Sorry.. Got tied up.." He said with a shy smile once they met halfway, and his legs started to give out on him since his body just knew that it was finally where it was supposed to be.
"Got ya Hawk.." She said softly as she caught him from falling, her hands holding him up by his chest until he regained some of his strength. "Blood loss?"
"Not a clue.. A good bit, not enough to need more pumped in.." He replied quietly, letting her support him by pulling his good arm around her shoulders. He leaned into the support as they made their way to the room next to the one she came out of.
She had it set up as she did all the other horrible places they had to stay in. An oil barrel fire in the middle of the room giving both light and heat to the place, a corner with their food and water and general supplies, and of course a sleeping bag and pillow each for them lay out on the floor.
He sighed a little when she sat him down against the wall, resting his head back against the structure and closing his eyes as his body began to succumb to the tiredness. He could faintly hear their visitor screaming next door, and he couldn't keep the grin from his face. Nat was the best at getting information..
"First aid is in the car. Stay awake Hawk, and I'll be right back." Her stern words hit his ears before the loss of her hand on his arm and the sound of footsteps let him know she was gone.
It didn't do much to help though.
He could just feel the tiredness start to pull him to nothing..
But the fear of his best friend killing him for falling asleep was enough to keep it at bay.