Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Avengers characters.

Not Alone

Blue light poured across the room, crackling like lighting as it went, but also flowing smoothly like a stream. It raced forwards, an opening forming at the other end, created out of nowhere, as the light continued to gush in a circular motion around the black hole.

'I see why Fury chose you to guard it.'

Clint bolted upright, crouching at the head of the bed, one hand firmly clutching a small pistol and the other tightly grasping a pillow in front of the gun. His eyes manically scanned the room, before he was satisfied that he was alone and safe. Dropping his arms, he took deep calming breaths. The cold morning air burned as it raced into his lungs, and he realised he had been holding his breath, although he wasn't sure for how long. Still in a crouched position he lowered his head into his hands, both still filled. With a deep sigh he returned the pillow to its spot on the bed, and slid the pistol back under it. Using his arms, he pivoted his body, swinging his legs off the bed and landing silently on his feet.

'I've been hanging around Nat too much,' he grinned to himself, as he walked over to the en-suite bathroom. He tugged thoughtlessly at the light switch and made his way over to the ridiculously lavish sink. Even though he had asked Tony for a basic room, what the billionaire had provided was far too luxurious for Clint's liking, but he wasn't one to be rude, after all Tony was housing him. Twisting the cold tap, he hunched over and splashed the soothing liquid onto his face, before planting his hands on the edge of the sink and staring at his reflection. A thin layer of sweat rested on top of his arms and chest, his hair was ruffled beyond taming, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

'Get a grip Barton,' he mentally scolded himself, before grabbing his toothbrush and applying a large dollop of some ridiculously expensive toothpaste to the bristles. Absentmindedly brushing his teeth, he walked back into the bedroom and towards the looming wardrobe. As he reached to open it, the door sprang to life, and automatically slid aside, revealing a collection of clothing that looked pretty meagre compared to the oversized house it was contained in.

"Keep forgetting Stark runs this place on electrics," Clint muttered to himself as he surveyed his outfit options. Most of his clothing consisted of suits, many of which Fury had made Nat help him pick out for missions; and apart from those and his other 'suit'. Clint's everyday clothing items were pretty basic. He was just pulling a plain black t-shirt down over his chest when Jarvis' voice boomed from the ceiling and the walls,

"Good Morning Sir. The room you asked me to reserve for you is available for use whenever you are ready."

Startled Clint put a hand to his heart, and looked up at the ceiling,

"Thanks Jarvis, I'll be down there in a sec."

Shaking his head at his quickened pulse, Clint grabbed a pair of grey sweats, and swiftly put them on while he rinsed him toothbrush and mouth out.

'I don't think I'll ever get used to Jarvis' voice sneaking up on me,' he smiled as he thought of the only other person who possessed the ability to do that also. Hurriedly slipping on a pair of trainers, Clint grabbed the gym bag that was always packed from the chair it had been resting on and left his room.