What Happened In Budapest *unedited*

Chapter 22: There's No Place Like Home

I noticed the change immediately, just by sitting in the bed, and his smile was just the beginning.

“I’m so glad to be back,” Clint was now sitting on the chair next to me. “No worrying about dying, or dying or eating the same thing day after day… I can’t wait to have a hamburger, Nat we’re back. We’re alive, we’re back.”

His enthusiasm was spreading. I felt my face twitch before I started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Clint’s smile slipped a little.

“You,” I replied, leaning back on the mountain of pillows, propping myself up. “You’re funny.” I closed my eyes, suddenly tired. My heart monitor beeped rhythmically, and Clint held my hand until I was fully unconscious.

Agent Hill told me it was six hours later when they reapplied my bandages, and about six minutes after that, I woke up. I had to be in a wheelchair for a week, and stay in the sick-bay for two. I could have been worse, Hill said. I could have been dead.

“Good point,” I said, trying to push myself down the hall, grunting with the effort. I had tried to walk this morning, but my feet were still incredibly raw.

Hill frowned at me. “Do you need help?” Her tone told me to give up.

“Aha!” I cried. “No, I’m fine,” The wheels pushed me forward, and Hill had to sprint a little before I slowed down.

We walked- or Hill walked, I rolled- to Fury’s office where the Director and Clint were. I looked down, my hands fidgeting. I always felt like I had done something wrong when Fury was in the room. I had done something wrong… but a long time ago. It was too late for a punishment.

“You did well,” Fury said, watching me carefully.

“Thanks,” Clint replied, with feigned ease. He was a little unsure himself.

“You both did well, but-” There’s always a but, I thought.

“But?” Clint asked. “But what?”

Director Fury sighed. “But we want to run some tests on Agent Romanoff.”

“No.” Clint’s answer popped out of his mouth before I could even process the Director’s words.

Fury sighed again. “You were in the Soviet compound for three and a half months-” I blinked in surprise. Was it really that long? “And we’d like to run some tests on Romanoff in case of… changes in behavior.”

I shrunk back into the back of the chair. “I’m not dangerous,” I whispered. Here it was, the punishment I thought it was too late to receive.

“You’re not running tests on her,” Clint said fiercely. “If she were to go back, she would have done it already, and she hasn’t so just leave. Her. Alone.”

Fury stared at us, taking in the scene. Clint, pissed, and me, my heart shattered into a million pieces, thinking they didn’t trust me, thinking that S.H.I.E.L.D. and I were back onto square one.

“No, I’m so-…. Okay. Fine.” Fury said. “But if she messes up, I’m sorry, Romanoff, but we’ll have to run some tests.”

“Okay,” I croaked, and Fury sat down, signaling that the meeting was over.

Clint got up, and despite my various protests, began to push me forward.

We ate with all the other Agents, and Clint got his hamburger. The other agents didn’t outwardly show their hate for me, which was nice.

Later that night, in the Room That Was Not Mine, But Still Home, a flashlight clicked on, and my heart beating quickly, I sat up, and banged my head on-

“Ow,”

“Jesus, Clint.” I said.

“Sorry,” He said, and climbed into the bed... right next to me.       

“Stop hogging the sheets,” I complained. “It’s cold in here.”

“Oh, just shut up and go to sleep,”

And we did just that. The beep of the heart monitor (I don’t get why they still have it in here, I’m alive and well), his heartbeat and the steps of the night agents was the lullaby that I fell asleep to.

~~~~~~

Uhm, read next update?