So this happens to be my first fanfiction :)
I'm not sure if this should be a oneshot or not, so you guys should help me decide.
I don't have a beta but I proofread everything at least three times, so whoever finds mistakes gets to keep them. With that said, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, ... (usual talk),
I'm not a native English speaker and it could happen that I use terms, phrases and idioms the wrong way. I apologize in advance.
Also, this chapter (or the story in general) will have minor to major pain/torture scenes, so continue at your own risk.
„Hey, Coulson!" Clint caught up with Agent Coulson as he sped at a quick pace past him through the empty halls. As he got no answer or any other form of reaction he continued. "Do you happen to know where I can find Natasha?"
Coulson, in his spotless suit as always, just shot a quick glance at him before he answered. "Agent Romanoff was called to lead an interrogation not half an hour ago." Well knowing that this answer wouldn't satisfy Agent Barton, he quickly added. "You should find her in … Well I'm heading just there, you can follow me if you want." Coulson knew that Clint Barton sometimes lost his orientation, despite being employed at S.H.I.E.L.D. for a long time by now. But he would never openly admit this, he clung to life after all.
Clint didn't reply, he just followed him silently. When they reached the facilities used for interrogations, Coulson led him to the darkened adjacent room. Clint could see Natasha trough a one-way mirror. She wore her fiery red hair in a loose bun and her clothes were of the formal S.H.I.E.L.D. suit instead of her usual Black Widow suit; the blank and ungiving expression on her face was the same as always though.
She sat across another woman who was entirely unknown to Clint. Lean but well built, tall with black hair and dark eyes. To the question of her person, Coulson just gave him a name and an unlabeled folder, which he quickly scanned through.
Gillian Speight, 25 years old, mediocre spy … but additionally an assassin with a kill count of confirmed thirty-seven in her suspected two or three years of career. "Not bad." Clint mumbled, but nothing compared to his partner. He tossed the file aside and continued watching Natasha doing her work.
After about twenty minutes it still went on and on and Natasha hadn't gotten any important information out of her, but that didn't seem to bother her. She kept her cool and there were no flaws in her perfect poker face. Suddenly there was a rapid change. Clint hadn't listened intently on what had been said, but it had gotten Natasha's opposite mad. It was then when he noticed to his dismay that Gillian Speight was in no way bound or immobilized. There were just the both of them, two chairs and a table in the otherwise small, empty room. He could do nothing but watch as she stood up, grabbed Natasha by her throat and lifted her up against a wall leaving her feet dangling in the air. Something was off, he realized immediately. Why didn't Natasha do anything? She just grabbed Gillian by her hands where she held her and coughed faintly.
Clint was just about to step in and kill that nasty threat named Gillian Speight when his eyes landed on Natasha's – though that couldn't be possible, it was a one-way mirror after all. However she shook her head the slightest way, showing them not to interrupt her. Clint and Coulson stood there, watching as her head began to turn red of the lack of oxygen. Gillian cursed her, laughed at her. "You are the weakest agent I've ever come to see." she hissed at her. Then she dragged Natasha's limp body back to the table. As if strangling her wasn't enough, she started banging her head against the metal table. With every smack she made more fun of her weakness. Clint clenched his fists, he desperately to step in and help his partner.
"Do you really think…" –smack- "that I couldn't kill you?" –smack- "Your weakness is disgusting!" -smack- "Even Alkaev was stronger than you!" –smack-. Clint's head shot up. Vikentiy Alkaev's death was the one of the main issues of the interrogation – Speight's last kill before she was caught by agents of S.H.I.E.L.D – red-handed, quite literally at that.
Blood had started to drip out of Natasha's nose and her eyes were whirling around wildly. "Before I killed him he told me every dirty secret about his stupid dirty company." –smack- "Their connections to the mafia," smack "their fiscal evasion," –smack- "and their bribing" –smack- "And after all this I slowly killed him, but not slowly enough. Your men caught me! The same men that seem to have forgotten you now. Where are they? Shouldn't they protect their weakest member? Or has your death no meaning to them?" Speight had stopped banging Natasha's head against the hard surface of the table.
Just when Clint thought the beating stopped, Speight took Natasha's right arm in hers. Clint couldn't tell what exactly she did after that – her back was turned to the mirror – but a nasty crackling sound was heard. "Well at least you don't cry and scream like him. I wish I could've told Wyman what a crybaby Alkaev had been." Natasha's head perked up.
"Wyman as in Darell Wyman?" Confused, Speight stared at Natasha. "I'll take that as a yes. Thank you very much for your cooperation." Relieved Clint watched as she whirled Speight around, zipped her hands together with small zip-handcuffs and in return for all the beatings bashed her head against the table. Just that Speight immediately went unconscious. Without another word, Natasha left the room. Seconds later, she entered the adjacent room where Clint and Coulson where waiting for her.
"Hey Barton, I didn't know I had you as audience. Coulson you should maybe send in a medic for her, I'm quite sure she suffers a concussion." Coulson looked in the mirror to see Speight lie sprawled out on the floor and instantly rushed out of the room with his cell at his ears. Natasha wiped the blood from her nose and mouth by the way-ish. "I should also go see a medic and get my arm fixed before they'll have to re-break it. Last time I was too late and I hate when they have to do this."
Clint nodded and accompanied her. "Maybe you should use another technique next time. You know there are other ways to get to hear their stories." Natasha just let out a huff at this and inside Clint knew they just called her in for the tricky cases, where nobody knew how to crack them. He had watched her put someone through the wringer numerous times but lately her tactics became more and more drastically and violent.
"Whatever gets the job done Barton. Now hurry up, I don't have too much time." she muttered, hurry evident in her voice. Together they rushed to the medical facilities, amusingly far away from the interrogation rooms. Clint watched Natasha and how she cradled her right arm (which was bent in the wrong direction). It must've hurt like hell but he didn't say a word. He knew how she hated when someone tried to be caring and sympathetic.
Finally they made it there. Apparently Agent Coulson had already announced their arrival. Two doctors awaited them. "Make it quick guys; I have a mission to carry out." The medics knew better than to object Natasha Romanoff aka THE Black Widow. So they just did their job. Clint stayed with his partner when she was being x-rayed. "Well, agent Romanoff, I have good news and bad news. Good news first: it's a simple fracture, nothing bad, the bones just cracked at one point and shifted a little. The bad news is that with your special … abilities … it's already started to heal and the bone didn't connect evenly."
Natasha sighed. "You don't need to go on with explanations. I know what that means. Could you just hurry up?" Clint moved closer to where she sat. Sometimes – mostly when she had to deal with compound or open fractures and they needed to be re-broken – she liked to hold his hand. According to her re-breaking bones "wasn't a very pleasant feeling". She never cried or even flinched but when the pain got to her she had taken to squeezing his hand. After really nasty procedures she also liked to down some of her favorite vodka.
"Barton you should probably go and pack your gear, Coulson told me we depart at twenty hundred." It was obvious that she didn't want him to stay, however Clint didn't care. He knew that she'd feel the pain nonetheless. She always told him she couldn't feel this "minor" pain due to her training under the Reed Room. Clint knew this wasn't true. She was just trained to ignore this pain, work through it, instead of not feeling it at all.
"I'm staying Natasha. If you don't want to hold my hand that's fine, but don't make me go. We're partners." It'd cost him time and trouble to get to use her forename and he was kind of proud of this privilege. Natasha just rolled her eyes.
"Okay Miss Romanoff … " One of the doctors, the younger one, grew impatient due to her body's enhanced healing and regeneration time.
"For you it's still Agent." Natasha's voice was cold and Clint inwardly thought she could feel his stress and reacted according to that.
"I … I'm sorry Agent Romanoff. Are you ready? On the count of three." Natasha adjusted her arm and took a deep breath then held it in. "One. Two …" A disgusting crunch/crack later the two doctors started hastily working on her arm – now broken again.
"What the fuck was that? Are you fools unable to count?!" Clint was as surprised at Natasha's uproar, as surprised as the medics were.
"Well … I thought I'd go with the element of surprise to make it hurt less … " The responsible doctor tried to explain.
Natasha returned to not responding and it made Clint thinking. Maybe she really did feel pain like everybody else. She just could handle it better. And she was prepared for pain at three, not two. The more Clint thought about it the more it made sense and his respect for her rose even more. He just couldn't understand why she wouldn't simply admit to feeling this pain.
After five more minutes they were finished and a grumpy Natasha with an elastic bandage around her arm was allowed to leave. "Let's get ready. We only have three hours left and I want to look into those files. You better not forget your night vision this time Barton."
"It was just that one time will you please forget to mention it every time?" With a chuckle, Clint followed her to their quarters. He'd follow her everywhere.