The Budapest Objective

Five

Clint walked into the restaurant Natasha had told him to meet her at the next morning. He spotted her at the far table, drinking a cup of what he guessed to be coffee.

He walked up and sat down across from her.

“Good morning,” she said, still staring down into the mug of strong, black coffee.

“Good morning,” Clint said brightly, the exact opposite of how he felt. He paused, considering if he should really ask her what needed to be answered. He made up his mind, and said, “Are you alright?”

“Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?”

But Clint could tell from the edge in Natasha's voice that she still hadn't forgotten her nightmare.

“Did you get back to sleep last night?”

“No, I wasn't tired after that.” Natasha paused, then looked up at him and said, “Clint, I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“Hey, you don't have anything to apologize for, Natasha.” Clint braced himself. “How's your head feeling? Headache gone?”

“Yeah, I feel okay, now. I'm sorry about yesterday, too. I shouldn't have taken anything out on you. It wasn't your fault.”

Clint was rather taken aback by this. He hadn't expected an apology. “No, you shouldn't have snapped at me. But you don't need to worry about it now.”

She gave him a small, rather forced smile, to say 'thank you'. He returned it with barely a second's hesitation. They held each other's gaze for several seconds.

Finally, Clint said, “So, what's the plan for today?”

“Well, there's this dance thing going on tonight, and I was thinking-”

“You want me to take you?” Clint said sarcastically, grinning.

He soon wished he hadn't said anything, because Natasha gave him the Look. He hated the Look.

“No, I was thinking that there will probably be some people there who can tell us a thing or two about anything strange that's been happening here. Anything that could lead us to the lunatic that's creating this army.”

“’Never mistake insanity for genius.’” Clint said. “A very smart woman told me that.”

Natasha smiled slightly, remembering their mission in Strasberg when she'd told him that. Gosh, that had been an interesting mission.

“You're right, I shouldn't prejudge. After all, this could be Trick Shot.”

She regretted saying that pretty quickly. Trick Shot had once been Clint's best friend and mentor. He had trained Clint in archery, and was almost if not as good at it as Hawkeye himself. However, he'd gone crazy when Clint joined SHIELD, and as of that day, he'd stop at nothing to kill Clint and anyone and everyone close to him. Natasha hadn’t met him, though. She’s only heard stories.

“I hope it's not.” Clint's mood had been, as it always happened when Trick Shot was mentioned, changed for the worse.

“I hope not, too, believe me,” Natasha said.

“So,” Clint said, in an attempt to get his mind off of his former mentor. "What time's the dance?"

“It starts at 6:30,” Natasha replied, looking at the pamphlet. “And it looks like it lasts until everyone leaves.”

“Good, that'll give us plenty of time to mingle and ask some questions.”

“We'll have to be really careful, Clint. We can't make it look like we're from a secret agency or anything.”