|Clint is not Legolas (imnotlegolas) wrote in zfuturelogs,|
@ 2012-11-03 01:34:00
|Entry tags:||clint barton, natasha romanoff, rebekah mikaelson|
Who: Clint, Natasha, then later Rebekah
What: Flashback of Clint being turned
Where: Abandoned buildings on a supply run gone wrong
Status: Clint/Nat portion complete; In progress
Rating: High. ZOMG THE FEELS
Since coming to Everett several years ago and making “friends” with Rebekah, Clint had done all he could to stay off of the Original’s radar while making sure he helped out the survivors. Especially after she had found the hut he had lived in and took all of his guns. At least the bow had been left behind with the arrows. He knew he should have left but Natasha had been there and like hell was he leaving her again.
Currently though, Clint was more focused on the matter at hand that included fending off a horde of zombies on a supply run for the prison. Firing off a few shots that felled some zombies, he glanced over at his partner and lover down below. “Having fun Tasha?” he smirked, knowing she could hear due to the earpiece.
Pulling an arrow free he shot a zombie in the head and the shrapnel fired off from the arrowhead and struck several more zombies. “We might want to think about relocating too,” he said, glancing around on the walkway he was perched on. “And soon. They sound hungry.”
“Always,” she murmured absently, the answering grin clear in her voice even as she loaded a fresh clip and began to take out the zombies closest to her, angling her shots so that they would go through one zombie to another behind it on several shots.
“How many more are there?” The Russian asked her partner even as she turned and began to shimmy up the side of the building across from Clint to give herself higher ground to shoot from.
He smirked a little at hearing the smile in her voice. “I’m rather grateful I’m no longer on the muzzle end of your guns,” he returned. As Natasha climbed Clint covered her to ensure none of the zombies followed after her. Pulling out another arrow he fired off another shot.
“I’d probably say about twenty to twenty five tops.” He ran along the walkway for a new firing angle. “Think you can keep up with me Spyder?”
“Small group, then,” she answered, drawing her gun again and turning to shoot at a few of the undead down below. Glancing across the alley at him, one eyebrow arched slightly, and she smiled again. God, she loved him.
“Like you’d be a challenge, Hawk?” Smirking, she began to move along the roof of the building she was in, scouting ahead for a new path for them to take. Considering the amount of zombies they’d come across, they could possibly hit the opposite side of town and get out before more showed up.
He grinned and began climbing up the fire escape. Arriving on the roof he looked around. At the moment it was clear and he began scouting along the edge of the roof. “So, find a way out of this yet?” he asked, jogging back to get her back in his line of sight. He frowned when he heard a creak as he stepped back on the fire escape.
“Shi-” he began when the rusted fire escape collapsed and sent him plummeting to the ground.
“Yeah, I think if we head West - “ Natasha started to reply, glancing away for a second, then looked back when she heard the curse. Her eyes widened as she watched her lover plunge towards the horde below, and she immediately leapt off the roof she was on and onto the fire escape of her own building. “Clint!”
The landing had dazed him. Hearing some grunts and moans he forced his eyes open and tugged the pistol out of his holster. He fired off a few shots, some going wide given he was a bit out of it but he dropped the zombies that were closest to him. He got up and fell back against the wall of the building and looked down at a piece of rebar sticking out of his side.
“Oh fuck...” he mumbled, sliding down against the wall.
Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest, and she fired with one hand, taking out the zombies as much as can even as she moved down the fire escape. When she finally managed to clear a path for herself, she darted across the street to Clint’s side.
“You have to stand, Clint,” she said as she reached out a hand to him, the other still shooting zombies. There were less than half a dozen left. Surely they could get out of this alive?
He looked up at Natasha. “Y-yeah...” He managed to get to his feet. The right side of his jacket down to the top of his pants looked darker and wet. He stared down at the bar in his side and he glanced at Natasha. “W-we need to get to cover...”
Natasha nodded and shifted to slide an arm around him to hold him up. “We have to move quickly.” Her heart had nearly stopped when she’d seen him fall, and she didn’t like seeing how much blood he was losing. She had to get him somewhere safe so that she could patch him up.
Leaning a bit on her to stay upright, Clint hobbled along with her, his pistol in his other hand so he could help with the shooting of the zombies that approached. He glanced around and spotted a small building with boarded up windows. “Th-there,” he said, pointing.
Natasha nodded and started in that direction while trusting Clint to watch her back. She shot when needed, clearing a path towards the building. Once there she tried the door and was relieved to find it unlocked, moving in quickly with Clint and shutting and locking the door behind them. Once they were inside, she leaned her lover against the wall, then began checking to make sure they were safe for the moment.
Clint sank down against the wall, clutching his injured side. Focusing was becoming harder and the wet spot was going down to his knee. “Tash...remind me to complain to the mayor about the building codes...” he joked, his voice weaker sounding that he would have liked. He shut his eyes and focused on his breathing.
“I’ll do that.” She finished securing the building quickly, then returned to him. From a pocket, she drew a green glow stick and cracked it,then set it to one side as she dropped to her knees and drew out a med kit. Reaching out, Natasha started to draw down his pants so she could tend to his wound. “Stay with me, Clint....please?” She murmured it faintly, betraying her worry.
He couldn’t help the whimper of pain that gurgled from his throat as she peeled the pants down from the wound in his side, the rebar still poking out through his weapon’s vest. “A-always...” he mumbled. “So...how bad is it?” he asked after a few moments.
“Flesh wound, barely even a scratch,” she replied, though she could tell it was bad. Prepping a bandage quickly, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “On three,” she murmured. “One....” Before she even got to two, she was gripping the rebar and yanking it out, then pressed the bandage hard against his wound, which was almost instantly soaked through. It honestly wasn’t looking good.
He should have known she’d do that. When she yanked the rebar out he screamed in pain, almost blacking out from the pain. Sheer will had him hanging on to consciousness and he weakly looked up at Natasha. “O...ow....” he mumbled, some blood dripping from his mouth.
Natasha worked quickly to press another, thicker bandage to the wound, deliberately blinking tears away before she looked up and met his eyes. Reaching out, her eyes widened in concern while her hand brushed the blood away from his mouth. “You’re going to get through this, Clint. We both will. Don’t you dare leave me.” Dropping her eyes quickly, she started to maneuver him to lay down so that she could try to field stitch it if possible.
He reached out with his one hand and gripped one of her wrists, stilling her from pushing him down. “Tasha...I’d only slow...you down...” He looked down at his side before looking back to her. “And we both....know I’d never make it in time to the prison.” He reached up with his other hand and cupped her face, forgetting it was covered in blood. “You have...to go on.”
She was already shaking her head as he spoke, tears entering her eyes when she met his gaze. “No. No, Clint. That’s not happening. I can stitch you up here so you can get back to the prison and...and they’ll take care of you. There are good doctors there, and....” Her voice trailed off at the look in his eyes and the hand he held trembled once, violently, then stilled.
“I can’t leave you, Clint. Don’t make me do that.”
Clint shook his head. “You have to. I’ve lost too much blood and we’re too far.” He let her wrist go and cupped her face with his other hand. “You have to leave my body here Tasha. My wound, the blood...the zombies are probably already making their way here. I can distract them so you can get out safe.” Pulling his hands back he painfully tugged out a few blocks of C-4. “Once they’re all here for the ball, we’ll have a blast.”
He was doing his best to be strong and confident but in truth he was afraid. He didn’t want to die and leave Natasha alone but the moment he had saw the rebar in his side he knew he was at his end.
She shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks as she leaned in and pressed her lips hard against his, then drew back. “Clint...” Natasha knew, logically, that he was right, and that this was the best plan, but, well, she wanted to say screw it. They hadn’t come all this way, gone through so much - Budapest, Loki, the fucking zombie apocalypse - for him to go out like this.
“...I love you. Please, let me try?” Her hands gripped his wrists this time, ignoring the fact that they were covered in his blood. “Please.”
He knew it was useless but it was Natasha. The only person he had ever defied orders for. He returned her kiss just as hard as he could before laying back against the wall. “Alright...” He looked at her, his eyes glazed a bit in pain. “And I love you too Spyder,” he murmured.
“Please don’t leave me, Hawk,” she whispered. Once he lay back, her hands got to work quickly to try and close up his wound, but there was too much blood and she could tell that some organ, somewhere, had been punctured. After a few minutes, a sob of failure escaped and her hands fell uselessly to his leg as she bowed her head. There was no way she’d have time or skill to save him, and she hated that fact.
He reached out and tilted her head up, staring at her. “It’s okay Natasha. I’ll be okay. But you need to get out of here now.” While she had worked he had heard more distinct zombie-esque sounds from outside and knew that the feeble blockades in place wouldn’t hold the zombies back for long.
Clint forced himself to sit up in spite of the pain and he gave her one last kiss, pouring all of his feelings and passion for her into it. After too short a time it felt like he pulled back and stared at her, his eyes glazed in pain and their color dulled a little. “I love you Natasha Romanoff.”
“Liar,” she murmured, then met his eyes sadly. When he leaned in, she returned the kiss just as deeply, saying so much more than she could with words. After he drew back, she stared at him sadly, then cupped his face and rested her forehead against his. “I love you, Clint Barton. I know we never...we didn’t get the chance. But I’ve always been yours. And always will be.” She kissed him one last time, then slowly stood even as she felt her heart break.
He returned her kiss and kept hold of her hand before he tugged out a worn leather cord with a dingy empty .50 calibur bullet on it. He pressed it into her hand and stared into her eyes. “Live Nat. And kick these fucking zombies’ asses.” He settled back against the wall and looked down, tears falling from his steel blue eyes as he worked on getting the C-4 connected and ready to go for when she was at a safe distance. “You’ll get five minutes Nat. Get clear of the blast zone,” he said, his voice thick.
She took the cord and tightened her hand around it, then slowly slipped it around her neck and tucked the bullet against her heart. She didn’t want to promise that she would, because she didn’t honestly want to live now. But she’d try, and so she just gave a slow nod. “I love you,” she whispered one last time, then squeezed her eyes shut and turned, letting out a shaky breath. Finally, she began to move towards the opposite end of the building, making her way towards the exit. She hated this, and had no idea whether or not she’d make it out alive herself.
As she moved away Clint lifted his head and watched her go. “Goodbye моя любовь,” he murmured. He looked down at the bundle of explosives in his hand and waited, wanting to be sure she got to a minimum safe distance. When he was confident she had, he hit the timer button for seven minutes, having changed the time and set the C-4 down next to him before he reloaded his pistol.