She closed the door firmly behind her, resisting the urge to fall to the floor and sleep. She staggered over to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Practically clawing the suit off, she stepped over the heap of spandex and into the hot shower. The effect was instant, she hissed through her clenched teeth as the water poured over her screaming muscles.
For the first time tonight she turned towards the mirror to assess the damage. Her left arm had a long gash running form shoulder to elbow, her back was patterned with dark yellow and black bruises. Her stomach was was also marked with purple bruises, her side puffed up around welts and scrapes. Her right leg was dripping blood from the knee down. Eyes bloodshot and wild, lip split and swollen. She couldn't turn away from her reflection. This wasn't the worst she had seen, this wasn't even that bad. But that wasn't what made her shake. This time was different because Clint had done this. She'd hadn't been so rattled by a beating since Budapest.
"He was compromised, get a grip Natasha," she sighed. She forced herself away from the mirror, shutting the water off and breaking the trance. Tears sprung up in her eyes before she could force them away. Enough with the self pity.
She grabbed a towel from the closet and collapsed on to the bed. She pulled the black sheets over her naked body and closed her eyes. She prayed for the relief only sleep could bring her.
He charged towards her, he raised his bow and fired. The arrow nicked her shoulder, breaking the skin and sending warm blood down her arm. She retaliated and twisted his wrists to grab the bow and throw it off the ledge. He grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him. The sound of their heavy breathing echoed off the metal walls. He drove an elbow into her ribs, trying to unsheathe his knife from his hostler. She kneed his groin and he doubled over groaning. Throwing her full weight at his chest and grabbed his arms. She sunk her teeth into his arm, her mouth felt metallic as his blood welled up in her mouth. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, he pulled until she gasped in pain. Flipping over her legs, he pinned her underneath him. She tried to move her legs but couldn't. His knees were digging into her bruises. He drove an elbow into her shoulder, she heard the crack and screamed as white hot pain shot up her arm. He held own her good arm as he unsheathed a knife from his vest. She couldn't fight the urge to whimper, hating how weak she sounded.
"Clint please," she whispered, her voice cracked from the strain. "Fight this, this isn't you."
His eyes remained blue and unfocused as he reached for the knife again. She kicked and screamed, to no prevail. Her last thought was of his smile as he sunk the knife into her chest.
Natasha woke up, her scream still echoing in her room. Heart pounding, she searched her room. The bathroom light was still on, the towel crumpled on the floor. Her hair was wet and crazy, her body covered in a thin layer of sweat. She swung her legs out from under the sheets. The sound of footsteps made her freeze. She lunged for the towel and hastily wrapped herself while reaching for her gun. She faced the door preparing to shoot. The footsteps grew louder and louder, it almost sounded like running. The door swung open revealing a frazzled Clint Barton.
Collapsing in relief, Natasha returned the gun to her table.
"Trying to wake up everyone?" She clipped, knowing that her tone was anything but casual. She tried to control her now frazzled composure. She headed over to her closet to slip on some clothing.
"I could say the same for you," he grumbled. " I thought I heard you scream."
She paused, pretending to search for shorts. She cursed silently before speaking.
"I was asleep before you charged in."
She found a gray tank top and pulled it over her head, wincing at the strain in her arms. The shorts were harder, bending down was nearly impossible. Now fully dressed, she faced Clint. His eyes were concerned as he looked at her.
"Tasha, take off your shirt," he commanded quietly. "Tasha what the hell happened to you?"
"Nothing, some Chitauri, that's all."
He nodded and walked into her bathroom, she could hear him rummaging in the drawers. He walked back to her, clutching several strips of cloth, a blue bottle and a wet rag. He sat on the edge of the bd, silently asking her to sit with him. She relented, breathing slowly. He gingerly lifted the back of her tank top, revealing the bruises. She could feel the sharp intake of his breath as he took in the sight. He gently pressed the rag to her cuts, then dabbed the ointment on them. He bandaged her arm and leg lightly. His hands were gently and warm against her broken skin, pressing lightly and pausing whenever she tensed.
After the last cut was bandaged he set the items back in the bathroom. He returned and kneeled infront of her.
"It wasn't them, don't lie to me."
She simply stared, unable to break away from his eyes. She hated herself for checking for any traces of blue.
"The screaming. It was nightmare wasn't it?"
She hated how he could call her bluff, he knew her mind so well. He could read her emotions like an open book. He reached for her hands and held them, her pale skin marred with cuts and scrapes. She was astonished to see tears welling up in in his brown eyes.
"I never wanted to hurt you Nat," his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Clint. Think of how many times I've tried to kill you. We are more than even," she murmured.
It had the effect she was hoping for, he laughed and wiped the tears away. She pulled him towards her and laid her head on his chest. He sunk into the pillows and held her close.
Steve knocked his knuckles again the solid oak door twice before slowly opening it.
"Nata-"
She was still asleep in bed, but not alone.
Clint was dozing next to her, his arms wrapped around her protectively. Her face was in the crook of his neck, his lips pressed to her head. Steve smiled and slowly backed away, closing the door behind him.