Ok, please ignore typos and any stuff that might not line up in this 100%, I am going to bed but wanted to post this! I will do a proof read tomorrow morning and fix stuff. This chapter is set a couple years after the last one, PLEASE REVIEW!
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Strike Team was on a trip in Italy. Of course for them a trip meant they were doing something dangerous on the orders of Shield, had almost been killed a few times, and now were being chases by people who wanted to kill them. They were both exhausted, and after a day on the run they just wanted to sleep. There were no Shield safe houses in the area, but luckily Natasha had been able to find a hotel room that she had decided was safe enough for one night.
At least she said it was a hotel room….. Clint didn't speak much Italian (Natasha said knowing what spaghetti, ravioli and macaroni were didn't count. So, yeah, if that was true he didn't speak any Italian then.) but Natasha had spoken to a lady behind a desk, and brought them up to this room. This small, dark, musty room, that looked more like an evicted apartment than a hotel suite.
But he didn't complain when they entered the room, they didn't have time for that. Besides, they were only going to be here a few hours. It was almost one am, and Shield was going to pick them up nearby around noon tomorrow. As soon as they entered the room, the assasians instantly began checking out the room, setting up security measures, sweeping it for anything dangerous.
But then, once they had done everything to feel as safe as possible, they examined the room to see how comfortable they would be for a night. There was a small couch against a wall, an empty mini fridge, mildew growing on one of the walls, and a bed in the corner. Clint didn't give that a second look, and went to check out the (pretty disgusting) bathroom. But when he came out Natasha was standing still, staring at the bed. She was holding her bag in one hand, and in the other a pair of handcuffs. Clint understood. The bed was basically just a mattress on legs. There was no headboard, nothing that she could attach her handcuffs to at night.
Clint spoke as Natasha moved forward to examine the bed. "Tasha…" "Clint, stop. I can handle this. Just get ready for bed. We have ten hours before we need to meet Coulson. We need sleep." So, Clint left her to figure out her problems, and quickly got ready in the cramped disgusting bathroom.
When he came out she was pulling the bed away from the wall, as if the nonexistent headboard was hiding and if she pulled the bed out far enough it would just pop up. Natasha was still holding the handcuffs in one hand, and she fumbled with them as she tried to see if she could hook one end of them around a bed leg. No, that wouldn't work, the chain of the cuffs wasn't long enough to get back up to the bed. She crouched on the floor trying to manipulate the cuffs, seeing if she could make something work. Her lips were pursed, her shoulders tensed. It pained Clint to see her stressing over something so dumb, so pointless.
"Natasha- that's not going to work." He sighed, watching as she tried to move the chain up the leg of the bed to see if she could sleep on the bed and be cuffed at the same time. It looked like that wasn't going to work though, unless she was ok with the possibility of having her arm yanked from it's socket if she moved wrong during the night or woke too quickly. Of course knowing Natasha she probably didn't care.
"Shut up Barton, it will work. I know what I'm doing." Natasha insisted, as she accidentally dropped the handcuffs, and picked them up before moving around to other side of the bed where she was still trying to see if she could find a way to sleep on it when being handcuffed to a bed leg. Clint scowled, but wasn't sure what to say. He really didn't feel like having a giant fight right now. But for some reason he just couldn't stop talking.
"Listen, do you really need to do that tonight? I mean, we're both tired, why don't you just go to sleep and you can use the cuffs when we get back to Shield. Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at him for a second. "I don't want to talk about this."
And that was it, it was all she said, But it was all that she ever said when Clint brought this up, and he was sick of it. He was sick of seeing his friend chain herself up at night, he was sick of her secrets, he was sick of seeing her hurt herself like this.
He was so frustrated and mad, he almost punched the wall. Then remembered how much that had hurt last time, and how Coulson had warned him Shield was NOT paying for any more repairs for walls Barton punched holes into without reason. So instead he just kicked the door quickly and angrily trying to control himself before turning back to his partner. And suddenly he was saying all of the things he had thought since he first saw her with the handcuffs, the things he had resisted saying for a long time because he knew it would upset her.
"Why do you do this Nat? I've worked with you for years, Shield protects you, you're safe. The Room can't control you anymore. Haven't they done enough to you? I KNOW what they did, You've told me enough. They kidnapped you Nat. They took away your childhood, and turned you into a weapon. They made you fight for your life, and kill other children. They destroyed you Tash! And I hate that, I hate they put you through that. It kills me to even think about it. But you beat them Nat. They destroyed you, and instead of just letting them do that, you fought back. And you are stronger than they ever could have made you. But you still let them control you. Every single night when you put those damn handcuffs on, you're still letting them win."
Natasha was standing up now, her face flushed, eyes blazing with anger. "How dare you Clint. You know NOTHING about what I have been through, what they did to me. You think just because you've snooped into my files, and I've told you a few things from my past that you know about my life? hat you understand what I think, and why I do things? Do you think that you can analyze me and- and try to fix me? You think I need to be fixed?" As she said this, something changed in Natasha's eyes, and suddenly instead of just looking furious she also looked hurt as the full impact of what she had just said hit her. "You think I need to be fixed."
Silence filled the room for a few seconds, as both of them realized what she had said, and then Natasha turned around and started to walk towards the door. Clint leapt up and blocked the her path before she could leave. "Nat, no, stop! That's not what I meant, I was just trying to help you." Natasha looked like she was about to shove him to the floor and step over his body. "Get out of my way Clint, I don't want to talk about it! Now, move!"
He still refused to step away from the door. "No, we HAVE to talk about this. I have let you do this for years. I knew you didn't want to talk about it, so I didn't bring it up. I knew that if I told anyone, you would wind up locked in the freaking psych ward. So I kept my mouth shut. I knew if Fury found out you still gave in to absolutely any Red Room urges, even one, he would lose all trust in you. So guess what? Fury hasn't found out. No one has. Because of me."
She practically snarled at her partner. "Oh, yeah, thank you so much Barton, if it weren't for you I would be totally helpless. Everyone in Shield would know how damn insane the Black Widow is, and I would be- what? Locked up for evaluation? Tossed out on the street? Called into Fury's office and never seen again?" Because everyone knows I can't hide my own secrets, so thank you so much Barton! Yes, it is absolutely all thanks to you that I was able to keep something from this "so called" intelligence organization. Thank you for protecting me, until now. I guess you hit your limit, since now you just have to fix me!"
She hardly looked mad now, if anything she was looking frantic and desperate. Like a trapped animal. "But you can't fix me. You can't. You can't! Believe me, I've tried!" It looked like Natasha was on the verge of tears now, and Clint had no idea what to do. All he had wanted to do was help her. And now he'd upset her more than he ever had before, and made her believe that he didn't think she was good enough, and was still broken, in need of repair.
It was like something had snapped in her, a plug had been pulled and she couldn't stop talking. "I left the Room, Clint. I abandoned everything I knew, and tried to forge a new life for myself. I do what Fury tells me, I save people, I'm trying to be a good person! But guess what? it's not working, I am never going to be like you or any of the other agents. I'm always going to be that crazy evil Russian, who Hawkeye took pity on and rescued. I'm always going to have to live with what they did to me, what they made me do. And I always will have to know I only am the person I am today, because of what they did when they screwed with my brain."
Her eyes still looked dry to him, but Natasha quickly swiped a hand across them as if to ward off tears. "And yes, maybe I do handcuff myself when I sleep because of those bastards from The Room. Do you think I'm so much of an idiot that I believe that's normal? I know it's insane, and creepy, and weird and just wrong. But I have to do it." She was practically babbling now, the words pouring out of her mouth like she couldn't control them. "This is all that I have, it's the only thing I remember from before, when I was still me."
Now Natasha really was crying, just a little bit, and Clint had no idea what to do. "Nat, that doesn't make any sense…. I don't want to fix you, I want to help you. How can handcuffing yourself to be a bed be all that you have?"
He didn't think she would actually answer him. Honestly he expected she was about to knock him to the ground, and step over his body to leave the room and hide from him for at least a week. They didn't talk about her past. It was just a fact they both knew, and didn't even have to acknowledge. He was braking one of their only rules not only by mentioning her handcuffing herself, but also by asking her about it- especially since she had just let slip it was part of her past.
He waited for her to run away. But for once, for now, Natasha stayed. Maybe she was too worked up to think straight, maybe she was tired of keeping practically everything to herself. Maybe she was simply tired.
"It just is Clint. It's the only thing that I have from- from before. Before they cracked my brain open and wired it the way they wanted to. It's the only thing that I remember from when I wasn't just a Black Widow." Natasha said, sorrowfully, crossing her arms across her chest in a defensive motion, always so ready to protect herself.
"Nat, that- it just doesn't make any sense. Why would you want to relive that every night? That's not even a good memory." Her eyes flashed with anger, and she turned away from him and moved towards the other side of the room. "Oh, really Barton? It's not? That's not what it's about. It would be nice if I had happy memories. You know, like a normal person! I would love to remember playing with toys, or baking cookies. Having someone tuck me in at night, playing outside. But I don't. The only thing that I have is the memory of laying on a freezing cold cot, with metal digging into my wrist, not knowing what the hell was going on."
Her hands were shaking so she clenched them into fists and held them still at her side. Clint pretended not to notice. He spoke hesitantly, not sure what to say, positive no matter what, he would say the wrong thing. "So if it's such a bad memory, why do you have to do this to yourself?"
They stared at each other, silence smothering any words they might be about to say. Clint was shocked by the raw pain that was evident in Natasha's eyes, it was like nothing he had ever seen before.
"It's like I said Clint. It's the only thing that I have. The only thing I know about my childhood is that when I was brought in and handcuffed, I was terrified. I knew I shouldn't be there. I know that that night was the last time I thought my own thoughts, without any influence from the Red Room. That memory is all I know about the child that I really was, and the person I might have been." A few tears stole down her face now, she didn't bother wiping them away. Maybe she didn't notice them. Maybe she just couldn't make herself care.
"That's my entire childhood Barton. All I know about myself. I know that I was wearing a blue coat when they took me, and at first I was worried because someone had torn one of the pockets. I know I thought the person who chained me up, reminded me of someone else. And I thought the woman who came in to take a sample of my blood, was going to save me. But mostly I remember thinking about my parents." A sob escaped from her mouth, but she held it back and continued talking. "I was worried they would miss me. But I knew they were going to come find me- Doesn't that mean something? Shouldn't it? I trusted them, I loved them. And if I thought they could find me, does that mean I trusted them and knew they loved me?"
She was sitting down on the bed now, hands still in fists like she wanted to fight down the memory filling her brain. Her entire body was trembling. "That's the only memory I have of them. I don't know what my mother looked like, I can't remember the sound of my fathers voice. I just know that when I was scared, and in danger, I missed them. And I was terrified, and I wanted them. And I thought they would come for me. They didn't, but those feelings? That's all I know about them. It's all I have." She looked at Clint now, and tried to compose herself.
"That memory is all I know about who I was before. How I thought, what I was like. It's all I know about my parents, and how I felt about them. It really is the only thing I have, and I can't let go off that Clint. I can't lose any more than I already have. I know it's probably some twisted compulsion from Red Room brainwashing that makes me chain myself up at night- But I also do this because it anchors that memory. I feel like if I don't do this, then I will lose the last part of who I really was. And then the Room really will have won."
She let herself collapse on the bed, and Clint couldn't tell if she was still crying or not, but even if she wasn't this entire situation was still heartbreaking for him. Barton walked towards the bed, and sat down next to Natasha. He reached out and rubbed her back soothingly, trying to calm her down, wondering what on earth he could do to help.
"Nat. Natasha. You are who you are, and nothing can change that. You have overcome so many obstacles in your life- And yes, you are partially the way that you are because of what that damn Room did to you, But you are so much more than that, you have created yourself to be someone the Room could never have made. You are more than the weapon they wanted to make. You escaped that hell, you beat them when they were sure that no one could. YOU made yourself into the person that you are now. You're never going to go back to who they made you, you are your own 're a person, not a weapon."
Natasha was still trembling, trying to pull herself back together, get back in control. "I can't believe that. I can't lose any more of myself." Clint tentatively reached out and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, though she still refused to look up at him.
"Nat, it's ok, you can let go of this. You aren't going to change if you stop cuffing yourself to a bed every night. You won't become a monster, or become brainwashed again. You won't turn evil, or decide to betray Shield. Because You get to choose who you are now. Not the Room. Not a stupid handcuff or chain. Trust me Natasha, you don't need a chain to hold yourself together. You can do that on your own. I know you're strong enough to do this."
She sat up a bit now, and looked at him with eyes that were dry, but filled with despair. "No, I can't, I can't do it Clint. I've tried before, and it makes me feel like I am flying apart, into a million pieces that I can never get back." She looked away again, and Clint was stuck struggling for what to do next.
"Ok, you don't need to do this on your own Tasha. I can't keep letting you do this to yourself. Please, let me help you. I want to help you. Just let me Nat. Please."
"Just drop it Barton! There's nothing you can do! Please leave!" She begged, burying her face in her hands again. Clint knew she wanted him to leave, but instead he moved towards the bed and sat next to her. He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, and was surprised when she didn't pull away.
They were silent as they sat side by side. Natasha let him hold her hand, not saying a word, flaming hair tumbling around her face. Clint spoke quietly as he held onto her.
"I have memories that I don't want to lose too. I know it's not the same, but I kind of feel I get where you're coming from. When I was a kid, my dad wasn't around much. When he was, it wasn't usually pleasant. But once when I was a kid, he took me and my brother to this arcade for the afternoon. I don't know why he did it, or where he got the money, or why he wasn't using that money to drown himself in the bottom of a bottle in some bar. But he took us there, and let us play all of the games that we wanted."
Clint had an absent look in his eyes, sucked back into his past. "I remember that my Dad, he told us he was the king of skee ball. And then he played it, and only won like three tickets. I was so scared he'd get mad, I was convinced he was about to blow his top, start throwing punches. Instead he just laughed it off and went to the next game. We only had enough tickets at the end to get some of those cheap plastic toys, you know tops, noise makers, whatever. But it really was a great afternoon….. It really is one of the only good memories I have about my father."
He was still holding her hand, as if he never wanted to let it go. "I KNOW that's not the same thing as what you're dealing with. I just want to let you know, I understand what it's like to only have so many good memories. Only have so many memories, period. And I know how scary it can be to think about those memories disappearing, only leaving the bad stuff. But Nat, you kept that memory through so much stuff. People messing with your head, forcing you into their mold, you have retained it over all these years. I promise you, if you have held onto that memory for this long, if it's that important to you, it's not going anywhere."
Natasha was tearing up now, she squeezed Clint's hand so hard, for a split second he was worried she might crack a few bones. "Ok, so the memory is not going anywhere, but what if I'm right? What if doing this every night is the only thing keeping ME together? The real me, that I was before all of this?"
She looked so genuinely panicked, Clint couldn't tell her how illogical this sounded. Instead he smiled and said, "I'll make sure that doesn't happen, that you stay right here- with me. If it's ok with you, that is. I'll stay here until you want me to leave. Would you like that?" Natasha bit her lip, and finally nodded. She was still holding his hand.
The archer smiled, "Move over. Make room for me, here, hand me that blanket-" He took it from her, and made sure she was comfortable. It was a small bed, they ended up with Clint sitting up leaning against the headboard, and Natasha curled up next to him, he was still holding her hand.
Natasha was nervous- She was also tense, sleep deprived, and not really sure what she was doing. Clint spoke softly. "Nat, relax…. Do you want me to leave?" He sounded so concerned. She shook her head, because she actually did like having him here. Just didn't know how to handle this situation.
"No, it's ok- I think this will help.
And you're right, this needs to stop. I'm just- not used to letting people in like this." She didn't elaborate, because she didn't have to. Clint understood. He knew it was hard for her to admit weakness, talk about her past, ask for help.
The archer didn't say anything else, and neither did Natasha. But for the rest of the night as Natasha struggled to fall asleep, dealt with a few panic attacks and wondered if she should just put the handcuff back on, Clint was right there at her side. Reassuring her, talking her down from anxiety, and doing his best to help her have a normal nights sleep.
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The next morning Natasha woke up suddenly, and felt panic and confusion for a minute- Who was in bed with her? Why didn't she have the handcuffs on- what was around her wrist? She started to pull her hand away, but the thing was securely holding on to her. She sat up a little bit, and found she had been leaning against Barton when she slept, one of his arms was wrapped around her like he didn't want to let her go- And his hand was firmly holding on to her wrist. He was sleeping, but hadn't let go of her. She was still here.
Natasha took a shaky breathe, and evaluated how she felt right now- Trying to see if sleeping without the handcuffs had changed her, made her any less of the person she had been before falling asleep without them. She felt exactly the same. She was thinking her own thoughts, she was capable of making her own decisions, she still remembered who she had been (Kind of) before The Room, and she didn't have any sudden urges to work against Shield or kill random people.
Clint was right- sleeping without the cuff had helped her. Sleeping with HIM had helped her. Natasha had not shared a bed like this with anyone for a long time, she only ever ended up in bed with someone when she had to seduce a mark, and that usually ended with them bleeding out into the sheets from a bullet- or an arrow.
But this had been nice. For the first time in a long time Natasha had slept without nightmares, she had felt safe sleeping next to him. It was like even in sleep she knew nothing would hurt her, because Clint was there to protect her.
Natasha stared at the sleeping archer, and wondered what would happen next. In the last year or so they had grown closer in their relationship every day, in spite of her best efforts to stop the friendship from growing. She had spent her entire life running, pushing people away, keeping everything to herself and refusing to ask for help. Maybe it was time to stop doing that. Maybe it was time for her to let someone into her life.
So, instead of prying herself away from Clint's hand around her wrist, getting ready for the day before Clint woke up, and pretending this entire thing never happened, Natasha laid back down next to him. She didn't fall asleep again, instead she watched her sleeping partner, and relaxed into his sleeping embrace.
She felt grateful that Clint had helped her. She felt lucky that he was her partner, surprised he had not left her when she slept. She felt that Barton was (possibly) her friend. For now she refused to admit anything more- Love was not a part of Natasha's life, an emotion she refused to believe in. So she ignored whatever she was feeling, and simply laid there with Clint's arm still wrapped around her.
Natasha did not even realize she fell asleep again until she woke a couple of hours later, to find Clint awake, unmoving and still in the same position staring down at her. He hadn't moved, and she couldn't help but wonder how long he'd waited for her to wake up.
He spoke softly, "Hey….. Are you ok?" The archer looked so concerned, his fingers twitched around her wrist as if he wanted to hold on to her even tighter than he already was. Natasha was still, processing the situation, calculating her next move figuring out what to do next. Several plans instantly formed in her mind, but she didn't like any of them. They felt dishonest, like they would be a rotten way to thank her partner for helping her.
So Natasha ignored her instincts to manipulate this situation, talk her way out of being thankful for what Clint had done, pretend she hadn't felt safer than she had in years last night. Instead she smiled and slipped her wrist from Clint's grip so she was holding his hand. "I'm fine…. Thank you Clint, I owe you one." Then she reached up with her other hand, pulled his face towards her, and kissed him lightly on the lips.
It didn't last long, but the feeling of his lips against hers made Natasha feel like nothing could hurt her, like she could do anything if he was at her side.
She let go of him before the archer could react much, and slipped out of the bed to go get ready for the day.
She still refused to admit she was in love- But that realization would come before long. After more missions fought together, and bullet wounds and explosions. After many more nights of Clint holding her hand so she wouldn't fly apart and lose that last piece of herself, and stolen kisses when they woke up.
And someday, when Natasha was ready to stop running, Clint would be there, waiting for her.
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PLEASE REVIEW GUYS!
