The Blood That Burns
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The blood seeped down onto the concrete floor of her room, the red pool growing more with every minute. The pain bursting through her veins as the mark seared across her neck, the dark purple ink etching into the reddened skin. Natalia let out a whimper, her legs collapsing to the floor, the air entering her longs in shallow harsh breaths. The steel handcuffs on her wrists holding her upper body to the wall.
The door lock clinked as the metal slid through its holder. The white coated men slammed the heavy door against the cold wall as they strode through. Natalia vaguely noticed the black boots of Sasha and Petrov as they broke the heavy chains laden across her wrists before they yanked her weakened body from the floor. And as they tied her to the familiar laboratory chair all Natalia could do was scream as they bleached the mark from her skin.
Natasha bolted upright in the bed, grabbing the gun from under her pillows holding it up against an invisible opponent. She gulped in the dry air as she placed the gun under her pillow, then wiping the sheen sweat from her pale skin. Rubbing at the scar at the nape of her neck Natasha sighed, shifting in the covers and moving from the bed to the doorway.
The Avengers had taken residence in the tower following the battle of New York, making the once uninhabited building into a hub of activity. Thor was back on Asgard for the moment, doing whatever Godly duties they had to do up there. Meanwhile Bruce and Tony were still hard at work in the lab, playing with all the new toys, so for once Natasha didn't have to worry about them interrupting her journey to the kitchen.
The kitchen was empty like the rest of the floor.
"Agent Romanoff, would you like your usual drink?" Jarvis asked as she stared blankly at the machine, too lost in thought to actually process any real functioning.
"Yes, th-ank you Jarvis" she replied slowly, covering her chest with her arms as the machine began to boil.
On a usual night the kitchen would be full of food, especially with the amount of food a super soldier and a demi god ate, but the tables laid bare. Steve was on a mission for the night and thus wouldn't be back till at least tomorrow evening.
"I thought you said you never got cold?" a voice said from the doorway, breaking her thoughts. That voice. Turning sharply to the door she faced Clint, the only other resident of Avengers Tower, her partner.
"No" She countered, a small smile on her lips.
"You Americans just freeze sooner, it's no fault of mine really" she continued, turning back to the machine and making another cup for him, a sickly sweet cup, more suited to his tastes.
Clint chuckled running his hand through his already bed ridden hair.
"Well at least if we ever freeze I'll have you to keep me warm huh?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow whilst taking a sip of her drink, blowing the steam away from the edge of the cup.
Natasha looked at Clint more closely, the first time she had really looked at him in weeks. The darkened circles under his eyes had grown more pronounced by the day, his once tight trousers had begun to hang loose around his waist.
"Can't sleep?" she whispered quietly passing him his cup once full and making her way to the seats opposite the kitchen table.
"No rest for the wicked" he sighed, slumping down in the seat beside her twisting the cup in his hands.
"What was it about tonight?" she asked, conscious of the closeness of their warm bodies.
He'd been having dreams for weeks, well not dreams per se. Nightmares would be more precise, nightmare after nightmare after nightmare. They all assumed that they were about Loki, or rather Loki's hold over him before the battle. And they were right, to some degree. Clint did dream of Loki's hold of him, but it was the nightmares of ripping Natasha apart that tore at him the most, as he watched himself stab his partner in the heart whilst taking away her dignity.
"Same as always" he said looking into the dregs of coffee left in his empty cup, as if they would give him the answers he required.
"You talk to that therapist Fury sent you to?" she asked, nudging his arm with her hand. Clint lifted his head and rolled his eyes at her.
"Of course not, you didn't" he argued turning back to his cup. Natasha shook her head and laughed in disbelief.
"You're not me, Clint" she stated, moving back across the kitchen to dispose of her half empty, cold cup. He had someone to live for.
"He unmade me" he stated bluntly, covering his head slowly with his arms.
"No, he didn't Clint. You know that." She said turning away from the sink before pulling his arms from his head. He offered no resistance to her, he never did.
"Look at me Barton" she ordered, letting go of one arm to grab his head and twisting it to face her.
"I said look at me" she barked again. His darkened blue eyes finally turned to look into her own.
"Do you want me to knock some more sense into you Barton? Loki did not unmake you, look at yourself" she said turning his face to the reflecting window.
"You are the same man you were before" she whispered. The same man she had started to fall for.
"All I see is a monster" he stated, turning his gaze away from his reflection.
"Don't do that to yourself Clint, you couldn't protect yourself against monsters and magic, none of us could. That doesn't make you a monster" she reasoned.
"How can you say I'm not a monster? If you knew what I had done? You don't know what it's like to have murdered your colleagues, to have a juvenile God play twist everything in your mind, to see the one thing you want most in life shredded to pieces by your own hand" he shouted to the room, storming up from his chair. Natasha moved to follow him before he grabbed her the shoulders.
"Don't tell me you know what that feels like Tasha. To destroy the only thing you've ever loved" he whimpered, before suddenly losing his strength and resting her head forward onto her shoulder.
Natasha grabbed him by his unruly hair causing him to wince.
"No Clint. I didn't get the chance to, they wiped it away before I could" she told him coldly before pushing him to the side and making her way over to the humungous window overlooking the city. Clint slowly got back to his feet, strategically making sounds with his steps as not to her surprise her any further.
"What do you mean Nat?" he asked softly.
Natasha shook her head, remaining stoically silent. Clint sighed softly before gently taking her hand.
"I know what it's like to be a monster Barton, to be unmade. You are neither, and you never will be" she whispered, holding her tongue against the roof of her mouth to hold back the tears, a well-practised move around him.
"How do you know?" he asked, coming up to stand behind her.
"The red in your ledger was not caused by you knowingly, mine was. I'm the monster Clint, not you. If you knew what they- "
"They Tasha, not you. You're not a monster" he said, moving his hands to her hips to try to turn her.
"What does it matter anyway?" she muttered, moving her hand to scratch at her neck.
"Why aren't you asleep Nat?" asked the confused Clint, hoping that her answer would shed some light on her ramblings.
"Same as always, Clint. Same as always" she retorted.
"You were dreaming about what they wiped away weren't you? What did they do to you?" he asked.
"You know what they did" she replied quickly, deflecting his question.
"I know some bull shit answer that you gave me in Budapest two months ago. Is it why you can't look at me straight in the eye anymore? Is it why you closed off the morning after we had sex?" he pushed his questions at her quickly, hoping to get a response.
She flung around, aiming to push him away again but he held fast, pushing her hips back against the window and effectively trapping her.
Memories of Budapest overwhelmed her. The mission was supposed to be simple, play husband and wife for a few days and find out some Intel on a drug lord. And it had been relatively easy, until someone leaked their covers. They scraped their way through that mission, but not without Clint taking a bullet in the leg for his partner. Natasha remembered the pain of seeing him fall, of carrying him to the safe house and patching him up. She remembered the kisses that followed, the touches, the sex. The feeling of betrayal afterwards when she realised that he would be meant for another.
Clint saw as the memories flashed through her, waiting for her to crack. And soon she did, the tears slid down her porcelain cheeks, the wound in her heart tearing open once more.
The archer took his partner into his arms, pressing his head into her the side of her neck.
He gave her placates as her left butterfly kisses on her neck. Soon the tears abated but neither had the will or the strength to move.
"Budapest can never happen again. Your soulmate is out there waiting for you, I ca-won't betray that. You deserve it, after everything" she whispered, slowly moving her head back to the window.
As Clint processed the words he saw the move from her neck, saw the scarred line over the nape of her neck.
And as he touched is lips to hers the purple began to burn on her neck once more.
The End!
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