Natalia Romanova groaned as she regained consciousness. She felt the itchy burn of the thick rope against her wrists and ankles, and sighed inwardly. These people were complete idiots.
Natalia kept her breathing steadied, for she felt no immediate threat. She was laying on her side, and she heard the loud sound of crickets and other creatures at her back. She heard no sounds of another human being, but even if she did, she wouldn't have been afraid. These people obviously had no idea who they were dealing with.
She cracked open her eyes, and took a shock of breath. She couldn't see; everywhere she looked, her vision was a dark, solid, black. If there was one thing in the world that Natalia was afraid of, it was the dark. She would have the occasional dream that the hands of the people she had killed would reach out from the darkness and pull her in, and there was nothing she could do.
She got herself under control immediately though, when she heard someone stir nearby. She steadied her breathing again, and closed her eyes, making a note in her mind that the room was the same dark shade as the back of her eyelids.
Natalia thought that she had passed herself off as asleep, but she was wrong. After a few minutes, she heard the low grumble of a laugh in the far corner of the room. The man's voice chilled the very marrow in her bones. Her first thought was that he was there to drag her into the darkness, but then she cleared her head. She was the Black Widow. She wasn't afraid of anything. Why was she getting scared now?
"I know you're not asleep," came the growl of the voice. It carried no threat, but didn't promise innocence, which intrigued Natalia. It just simply stated that he wasn't messing around. Neither was she.
"Who are you? Who do you work for?" Natalia demanded, throwing caution to the wind as she opened her eyes, lifted her head, and looked around, shaking her hair out of her face. She saw a dark silhouette against the very faint, dim glow coming from the edges of a window, but it didn't move. She also noticed some light streaks coming from the wall behind her as her eyes adjusted to the room. It wasn't the light of day time, but more of the glow thrown off by a full moon.
The man drew her attention again. "So many questions. And here I thought that you would have all the answers."
Natalia narrowed her eyes as she tried to get a better look at the man in front of the window, but it was no use. The darkness was too dense.
"Who are you," Natalia stated again, though not expecting an answer. All she received was a chuckle, but again, it wasn't dark, nor did she feel warmth.
"Come on, now. They told me you were good. Good enough to make you a kill order. Use your brain, Natalia."
Natalia cringed at the man's voice, and how clearly calm it was. He didn't seem to care that she knew now that he was going to kill her. Wild scenarios galloped through her head, but first things first. She began using her fingernails to cut through the weak rope at her wrists.
"Let's see," she started, all the while working with her binds. "You're obviously not from the Red Room, nor from around here because of the way your tongue rolled uncomfortably across my name. It's Nuh-tau-lia not Nat-alyuh. You have no accent, other than a slight northern affliction, which you probably don't even realize you have. You're definitely American. But my question is, who do you work for? FBI?"
The man laughed derisively.
"CIA?"
The man chuckled mockingly. "Maybe you're not as bright as they say."
"Well, you're obviously not S.H.I.E.L.D. because they wouldn't be stupid enough to tie me up with nothing but flimsy rope."
"Guess again, sweetheart. I am with S.H.I.E.L.D., clearance Level 7. High enough to be tasked with you. And for your information, that 'flimsy rope' is triple braided nylon with diamond finish. You're not sawing through that with your nails anytime soon."
Natalia stopped fooling with the rope, then raised her head to look at the silhouette of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "You're S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"I'm an agent, of S.H.I.E.L.D., physically not S.H.I.E.L.D. That would probably be my boss, the one who asked me to kill you."
Natalia was getting slightly upset, but she kept her cool. She wracked her mind, trying to figure out any little detail that would save her sorry skin from being killed by the man before her. She kept searching fruitlessly with her eyes, when suddenly the hum of the crickets sounded too blatantly loud.
"I don't believe you. You're not with S.H.I.E.L.D. If you were with S.H.I.E.L.D., I would be in lockdown, strapped to a metal table, unable to move anything but my eyes, with a needle full of poison waiting to be injected into my arm. Who do you really work for?"
"You need to learn to trust me, lady, because if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have even woken up to see the needle in your arm. I'm not lying to you. I'm with S.H.I.E.L.D."
"If you're with S.H.I.E.L.D., then what the hell is going on, because you're either completely dim witted, or completely insane for keeping me in an unsecured facility with nothing but rope binding me."
"I'm a little bit of both, actually. That's what Coulson says. And what makes you think that you're not in total lockdown?"
"Really? I think you're more dim witted than anything. The crickets, and the glow of light coming from behind me, and behind your silhouette. We're obviously somewhere far out of reach of cities, where there isn't an abundance of lights, because you can see the moon's glow, and you can't hear any traffic. We're not in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility."
"You're right. We're not. But that doesn't mean you're not in lockdown."
Natalia squinted her eyes at the figure. He was completely calm, and just stating the answers as she asked her questions. It began to make her feel extremely uncomfortable.
"Why haven't you killed me yet?"
"Ah, see, I was waiting you to ask that question. I'm not going to kill you, Miss Romanova. At least, I'm going to try not to. It depends on how annoying you are, and if you ask this many questions all the time."
There was a short pause, in which Natalia held her breath, and a shiver of cold ran down her spine.
"You see, I know all about you. Who you've killed in the last year. Where your secret base is that supposedly only you know about. Who Ivan and the Red Room are. I also know the more personal things. What you prefer to eat for breakfast. Your favorite dress to wear on assassinations. Your lucky throwing knives. I was shocked to learn that a girl like you actually believes slightly in superstition. I've been studying you, Miss Romanova. I'm an expert on the Black Widow. But what intrigued me the most about you, are the times when you're almost close to consciousness from the brainwashing. Oh, did I leave out the part about the brainwashing? My bad. I know you're brainwashed before and after every mission.
"When you wind down at the end of a mission, and prepare to return to Ivan and his gang of thugs, I realized that that's when you're closest to your true self. That's when you're closest to being somewhat human, and showing some forms of feelings. I studied you hard during these times, and I came to a realization, that you aren't the monster we thought you were. We had it all wrong."
The man paused, giving Natalia a little time to absorb it all in. He had been watching her? And she hadn't even known? How did he know about the brainwashing?
Then something clicked in Natalia's mind. She was feeling something. What, she didn't know, but the fact that she was actually feeling, caused her brain to thaw for a second.
"How long have I gone without being wiped?"
There was a few more moments of silence from the stranger, but right before Natalia was about to speak again, he cleared his throat.
"I knocked you out yesterday afternoon. Your mission ended a week ago. You've been trying to give me the slip ever since. Do you remember?"
A flurry of images flashed in Natalia's eyes, and she had to hit her head with her elbow to make it stop. The aftermath left her feeling dizzy and disoriented, while her vision was reduced back to zero from the bright flashes.
"A little. I remember a pipe. Was hitting me with it necessary?"
"You stuck a knife in my favorite leather vest. I was pissed."
Natalia detected a playful purr in his voice, which made her want to laugh and throw up at the same time. This man had to be mentally insane.
"Why did you chase me? Why didn't you just kill me?"
"Haven't you been listening, Natalia? I realized that I couldn't kill you. You were too human. So I waited until your mission was done, and then I attacked you at your weakest."
"I thought it was a kill order."
This time the silence from the man was uncomfortable, as if he was unsure of how to answer.
"Well, it was. Is. They, still want you dead."
Natalia was beyond confused at that point.
"So, you've, what, gone rouge or something?"
"Basically, yeah. They wanted me to take you out. I said no. It was a direct order from the big man, but I couldn't do it. So I might have accidentally stolen a car and driven you to the nearest safehouse I could find."
"Why? Why didn't you just let me snuff it and go on with your life? My life means nothing to me. You're in over your head."
"You think I don't know that? I'm not just going to kill someone for trying to live! Don't lie to me, Natalia. I see right through you. You were getting ready to leave Ivan and the Red Room, weren't you?"
Natalia closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. He knew more than she thought.
"Why does it matter to you?"
"It matters, because I just left my agency for you! I'm counting on the fact that I think somewhere deep inside you know you've done wrong, and I'm trying to get them to see that."
"I didn't ask you to save me! I don't even know who you are!"
The man's voice had been rising steadily, but when he spoke again, it was deadly calm, but had a twinge of amusement that almost sent Natalia over the edge.
"The name's Barton. You probably know me as Hawkeye."
Oh she knew who he was alright. He was the assassin that walked through walls, there, yet never found. He killed in the shadows, and charmed in the light. He was the boogieman of the Red Room.
And she was at his mercy.
"What do you want with me, Hawkeye?" Natalia said as she cleared her throat.
"It's Agent Barton. I want you to cooperate, because it will help us both."
"How's that?" Natalia asked, trying, and failing, to cover her shaking hands, due to the rope holding them up.
"I need you to tell me why you were going to leave Ivan. Why you were going to leave him behind, and what you were going to do afterwards."
"Why?" Natalia was extremely wary of the man who saved her life, and was positive that he was going to kill her no matter what now.
"So I can pitch the story to my supervisor, Coulson. He's our best chance of getting out of this alive. I need to tell him why I think you're not the insane psycho maniac you've been made you to be."
Natalia glared at the silhouette, then slowly let out her breath.
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I can help you. If you tell me why you wanted to leave, I might be able to get S.H.I.E.L.D. to call off the kill order. You'll probably be taken in for questioning, but I can make it a little easier for you if you tell me the truth now."
"But what happens afterwards, huh? Ivan's got men everywhere. I'll be dead for betraying him."
"Not if I can help it. I am Hawkeye, you know. I know you've heard of me."
Agent Barton's voice switched back over into it's playful mode, which made Natalia roll her eyes.
"I've got nothing left to lose. Screw it all right?" Natalia gave a half sneer, that she knew Agent Barton couldn't see. She breathed deeply, and felt rather than heard Agent Barton go completely and utterly still.
"You know the Red Room. Trains little orphan girls to be assassins that can kill in the blink of an eye. The brainwash us, starting at age six, when we get our first assignment. Usually we just tag along with the older girls, getting a feel for the job. As soon as we get back, they wipe us of any emotion, but drill the skills we've learned into our mind, leaving nothing but the knowledge of how to kill in a thousand different ways.
"I was special. They've been washing me since I was four. Girls don't tend to have this long of a life expectancy either. I'm lucky. But by now, I've been brainwashed so many times that it's starting to lose it's effects. I couldn't go on long missions without coming back and getting flashes of past assignments, or dreams of everyone I killed. It became a regular thing for me. Ivan said I was just sick."
Natalia paused, then shifted on her shoulder. It unnerved her that she couldn't even hear Agent Barton breathing. No wonder he was called a phantom.
"One day, I got a flash of my childhood. A burning building, people screaming, a baby crying. I realized that that baby was me, and that someone had set my house on fire. I remember seeing Ivan kill my mother, then pick me up, and walk out of the house without a backwards glance. It was then that I realized that I had to leave. Ivan had lied. He told me my parents had abandoned me. How much more was a lie?
"I began to record my flashes of memories in a journal. It's in my bag, wherever that is. I'm not sure what they mean, or from what alias the memories are from, because I had a lot."
Agent Barton finally decided to speak up.
"That's how I knew about the brainwashing, about you leaving the Red Room. I saw you writing in your journal, and got a guy on the inside to find out what it was about. I'm sorry, about your parents. I know it sucks."
Natalia merely nodded. She had a queer feeling rising in her chest, and she wasn't quite sure what it was.
"I had actually thought about this past mission the one to leave on, but I kept telling myself, one more, one more, because honestly, I have no idea where I'd go. No one has ever gotten out of the Red Room program and lived to tell the tale. I sure as hell was going to try though, that's for sure."
Natalia thought she heard Agent Barton laugh, but she couldn't see how any of it could be funny. The strange feeling in her chest grew, along with a headache that was quickly growing into a migraine. She coughed a little bit as her throat seemed to be closing.
"Erm, you said you'd get flashes of memories? Have you had any since your last washing? Natalia? Natalia!"
Natalia went completely limp, useless, dead weight, and her open eyes glazed over. It was like someone had opened the floodgates of her memory, and was letting loose every feeling she had ever ignored and kept inside. Memories flashed in bits and pieces, while voices shouted in the background. Fire licked the edges of her mind, and the smoke threatened to choke her out. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, she couldn't think. For the longest time she had been afraid of the dark, but now she realized that she was more worried about facing what was hidden inside.
She cried out for help, the first time she had ever done so since she was that child in the burning building, but she received no answer. She thought she heard someone call out Natasha, but she passed it off as just another alias, just another mark calling out to her, begging her not to kill them.
Back in reality, Clint Barton watched in horror as the once stable Black Widow dissolved to nothing but a ball of tears and whimpers. She had completely lost it.
After he had turned on some lights, he leaned down, and untied her wrists and ankles, wrapping a reassuring arm around her, but she was too far gone. He knew that there was nothing left to do but let it out. She'd held it in for way too long, and Clint knew that it was bound to blow in her face at some point or another.
Sighing, he pulled away from the shivering assassin, then shook his head at what he was about to do. He slipped off his leather vest with the S.H.I.E.L.D. emblem on the chest, with a fresh knife wound in it, and draped it around her shoulders, then pulled another blanket up to her chest.
Clint had a phone call to make, and he was confident that Natalia wasn't going anywhere for a while, so he dimmed the lights halfway, then walked into the opposite room, pulling out his phone from his pocket as he went.
He had Coulson's number on speed dial. It took three rings for Clint's supervising officer to pick up.
"If you have any idea how much trouble you're in, you'll give yourself up right now."
"I'm sorry Phil. You know I can't do that. It's all or nothing now. I suppose there's a bounty on my head now too?"
"Goddammit Clint. You're beyond help now. Damn sure there's a bounty on your head, but Fury has held off the council from issuing a kill order. Mind you, he almost went ahead and issued one himself after you knocked Sitwell unconscious. What the hell are you doing Clint?"
"Phil, I've got a plan for a compromise. Can you hear me out here?"
Coulson merely grunted.
"Natalia is cooperating. Listen to me Phil!" Clint raised his voice because Coulson was making sounds of protest. "She's told me about why she wanted to leave the Red Room, and we've got the journal to prove it."
"That journal Rockwell risked his life to read in Moscow?"
"Yeah, it holds her memories, just like we thought, but it holds the memories of the times when she gets flashes of past missions, previously erased from her mind."
"So they are brainwashing?"
"She confirmed it."
Clint waited in silence as Coulson pondered the new information, thinking fast and hard.
"I need to talk to Fury. I'll contact him tomorrow. Let's just pretend for a moment that this might work. If you give her up, and she spills everything, what do we do with her then? We can't go around protecting murderers, Clint, intact memory or not."
"Honestly Phil, I haven't gotten that far yet. I'm just hoping to make it through the day. We could put her in WITSEC, give her a new identity, make her an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.,-"
"Whoa. Make her an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.? You've crossed the line there, Clint. Sounds to me like you have already given this some thought, but one thing at a time. I'll give you a call tomorrow, tell you if Fury's biting. Survive the night, alright Clint? I'd like you back in one piece so I can tear you up myself."
"Very funny sir. And Phil? Thanks. You're the only agent I know brave enough to do this."
"Or stupid enough. It depends on which way you look at it. Keep an eye open agent."
Clint ended the phone call with a slight grin on his face. He had no idea what he was doing, or what he was getting himself into, but he was ready to take the leap. Why, he wasn't quite sure, but he knew that there was something special about the red head in the next room.
As he peered through the hallway into the other room, he caught a shock of her scarlet hair, strewn over the side of the bed. Clint realized that they were both searching for a light in a lightless world, hoping for a chance to finally see.