Lost in translation

A/N: Seems like angsty action is the current pattern across all my stories. It just sort of happened. Oops. Apparently my writing muse is in angst mode right now? You can blame the horrible mission in I dare you for that. At least Clintasha feels afterwards are always nice right?

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Chapter 10

Clint flew down the alley with only one thought racing though his mind – he didn't know what was wrong. He had to know what was wrong. The only way he could help her was by knowing what was wrong.

"Natasha!" he shouted as he raced down her alley no less than 20 seconds after she signaled him. He rounded the corner with his hair whipping passed his face, just in time to see his partner's legs give out beneath her as she fell to her knees. For a second he felt his heart stop as his mind came up with the worst case scenario – she just got shot dead in the chest. But then his ears and eyes caught up with his runaway imagination and he instantly realized there was no gunfire and Natasha…was alone. He shoved the momentary confusion out of his mind and instantly fell to his knees beside her. He grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were blank and slightly unfocused – what the hell?

"Natasha? Natasha what's wrong?" Clint asked carefully shaking her back and forth. Natasha rarely reacted like this to any situation. She always dived into any battle with her head held high, battle face on and guns at the ready. He had no idea what had gotten into her. What could possibly paralyze the Black Widow? He was about to slap her across the face to knock her out of whatever daze she was in when he took a deep breath and froze.

He smelled blood.

Lots of blood.

He slowly turned to peer down the alley and saw a large puddle of blood with a small broken redheaded girl sprawled across the dirty cold alley floor. She had 3 bullet shots in her leg and her clothes were completely ripped to shreds. Clint paled when he saw no chest motion.

The girl was dead.

"Shit," Clint said under his breath – if he hadn't been an assassin for over 15 years he thinks he would have thrown up right then and there. He quickly tore his eyes away from the horrifying scene and quickly glanced back at his paralyzed partner.

"Tasha. Tasha I know it's bad but why are you so pale…" Clint trailed off as he followed her frozen eye line - she wasn't actually looking at the girl. Dead bodies would never shake her like this – she had thicker skin then that. He finally caught sight of the dripping red liquid that covered the alley wall and froze.

'Courtesy of the Black Widow'

Clint stared at the words painted in dark red across the dark alley wall. It had to be some sick joke. Of all the things this murder scene could be – this was not her style. Natasha was a covert operative – hell she was a god damn spy. Flashy and explosive was not her style – silent and deadly was. When Natasha took someone out she didn't leave arrows behind like he did. Her assassinations were always uniquely executed and completely unidentifiable. She didn't have patterns. She didn't leave a trail to follow.

She finally looked away from the chilling words and locked eyes with him. He saw some of her signature determination mixed with her natural confidence slowly reenter her sharp gaze. He didn't need to hear a sound to know what she was saying.

I didn't do it.

Natasha was many things. She was an infiltrator, a hacker, a martial artist, a strategist, a spy, a ninja fucking assassin and a god damn mute at the moment.

But she wasn't someone who killed children – especially not for no reason. Natasha continued to stare at him what her unwavering gaze – he had to believe her. He had to understand. Even if no one else would dare trust an ex-Russian assassin like her. He was her partner. He promised to follow her no matter where she went. Clint slowly raised a shaky hand and gently brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek and rested his palm against the side of her face. Natasha took a shaky breath – she didn't know why she let him do that.

"I know Tasha," he whispered with the sincerity bleeding through his words. He believed her. He would always believe in her.

She suddenly froze as something caught her eye over his shoulder. He tensed too.

"What is it Natasha?" he asked suddenly going to high alert again. He was reaching for his bow strapped to his back before she had even opened her mouth to silently mouth something at him. He furrowed his brow as he tried to read her lips in the dim lighting.

"Still bre..athing? Still breathing?" he repeated in a much higher tone and instantly spun around to stare at the broken girl lying a few feet away from them. He zoned in on the barely visible rise of her chest that had not been happening a minute ago.

"Well shit! Shit! Oh shit we need to get her to a damn hospital Tasha!" he exclaimed quickly flying into action. He promptly fell to the ground beside the broken body of a little girl and scooped her up into his arms with giving a shit about how he was instantly covered in her blood. The kid was alive – barely – but alive.

Natasha simply stared at him – how the hell was he planning to get out of here with a half dead kid?

"Get your ass off the ground and let's go Natasha!" Clint said pointedly ignoring the blood soaking into his shirt as he stood up with the girl still lying limp in his arms.

She looked away as a bitter expression crossed her face. How was she supposed to be any help? Clint impatiently gave her a sharp glare. He needed his scarily efficient partner right now – not the hesitant girl who didn't know who she was without a voice. He promised himself he would help that part of her later – after they dealt with their current problem.

"I don't care if you can't talk – move Romanoff!" he ordered in his clear military voice taking over. Natasha gritted her teeth and promptly stood up while trying to hide the strain in her expression – he was too well in tuned with her not to notice. Clint sighed.

"You can't talk Tasha – but life is a lot more than just words. You can drive right?" he said firmly. She nodded slowly. He gave her a steady look – he had confidence in her.

"Good. So wipe the wimp look off your face and let's hijack a damn sport car and break every god damn speed limit in New York City my crazy badass partner," he said flashing her a cocky smirk to shake her out of her funk. Natasha's hesitant expression instantly vanished just like he knew it would and turned into a deep scowl. She angrily stomped passed him while whipping out her gun and firing the lock off a car across the street in front them.

How dare he call her a wimp? She was instantly rewiring the ignition before he even had a chance to jostle the girl in his arms and follow after her.

"I love a woman with sass!" he called after her as he tightened his grip around the little girl's waist and swiftly made his way out of the alley. He had to keep his partner distracted – if being pissed at him would do the trick then so be it.

"Don't die on me kid," he whispered under his breath as he glanced down at the unconscious redhead in his arms. He had to make sure she lived – for his partner's sanity.

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A/N: Now we have some drama! Wonder who this kid is? And who's after our lovely Russians assassin?

I have the next chapter finished so review and I'll update tomorrow :)