So sad that this is the last chapter. I hope you guys all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing this.
Two and a half months later
When Natasha said she needed time to think, she didn't exactly think that she'd end up tied to a chair being beaten day after day for two weeks. She had been captured in a moment of pure distraction, something that never happened. Natasha had been too lost in her thoughts and now she was tightly tied to a chair by her ankles and wrists with a strong chain. The fact that it was 115 degrees wasn't exactly helping either. Natasha found herselfgetting weaker as the days went by. Not physically weaker, but psychologically.
Rational thoughts were being replaced with memories and feelings. Natasha was clueless, sinking into an endless, depressing spiral. She had been trained with the harshest methods of resistance that one could ever imagine. No one could break into her mind unless she wanted them to, but right now, anyone could turn the Black Widow into their personal puppet and manipulate her frail emotions. She had discovered her own weaknesses. She knew she had weaknesses, but had never known what they were. Natasha's own identity was her weakness. She lacked the sense of family, the sense of home, the sense of love. That was the only thing she wanted to have; a place that she could claim as hers, someone she could say belonged to her.
"Once upon a time, a pretty little girl and a boy made a promise, right under a big oak tree. They carved their initials onto the big tree trunk and promised to meet there every day for the rest of their lives. They sealed their agreement with three kisses. Oh, how beautifully foolish is children's love, don't you agree, Natalia?"
Natasha shook her head at those thoughts. She knew what happened next. Her eyes glassed over with tears when she couldn't stop mulling over that memory. Ivan was telling her an apparent children's story as he stroked her face far too affectionately, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She was only nine-years-old at the time.
"But then one day, not much longer after their promise, the boy didn't show up. What happened, you wonder?" Ivan asked as he caressed her arm, making the little girl shiver and suppress her tears at his touch. "What happened," he insisted, "you must ask me."
"What happened to the boy, Ivan?" Natalia asked slowly, her voice coming out as a sob. She looked down with tears swimming in her eyes, threatening to rush down her face.
"The little boy, he died." Ivan cruelly said, though that wasn't news for Natalia. "He was stoned by other boys. The little girl cried when she found him. Idiotic thing to do, don't you think? Child-soldiers must always be the best. Are you the best, Natalia?"
"I try, Ivan. I really try."
"Trying isn't enough. You have to be the best. What are the main principles to never fail?"
Natalia filled her chest with air and met Ivan's cold gaze. "Never use half of our strength. Never flinch or hesitate. Never be sentimental." Taking dry breath, she added. "Love is for children, Ivan, and I won't be sentimental."
"Love is a debt, Natalia. Never forget it. People like you will never know love. The balance will always be uneven." Cupping her face with one hand, he ran a cold thumb over her small, frail lips, as he continued. "You can't take a life away and repay it with love later. You can only pay death with death and love with love, but if you can't be sentimental-"
"Then I'll never love." Natasha voiced in a whisper. That had been the same answer she'd given Ivan years back.
Love is for children, love is a debt. Love is everything Natasha had never understood. Or so she thought. For the past two weeks while she had been tied up to that chair, only thoughts of patiently resisting and Clint, kepther strong. Having an enhanced immune system didn't mean she wouldn't feel the pain inflicted on her for fourteen days over and over again. Even though her cells regenerated themselves quickly and she was strong enough to endure the torture, Natasha wanted out. She wanted the sense of home again, she needed Clint's warm embrace and most importantly, she desperately needed to be free, to get her feet back on the ground and fight. She was feeling useless.
As usual, Natasha had tried to free herself, twice, but the location of the house she was being kept in couldn't have been better. It was nothing but four white erect walls, an earthy floor below her feet and two cavities that were supposed to be windows covered with wooden slats. The sun rays penetrated through the gaps, some air too, but mostly the sound of life outside. Her prison was located in the middle of a major trading center outdoor market. Every six hours the marketers changed the arrangement of their stalls, making the paths vary immensely. The two times Natasha had freed herself, she had run out the door, trying to figure it out a way to reach Camp Rhino, which was over 100 miles from where she was standing. She never did it, though. Half way through her run she'd felt a small dart hitting the back of her neck and soon her body would numb and she'd collapse from the drugs. Once she opened her eyes, she was in the house again, tied to the chair.
Clint knew that his plan was the most simple and probably the most idiotic one ever. But it was his plan; he was counting on himself to make it work.
After Natasha's deployment on her mission, Clint had monitored her while recovering back in New York. Once SHIELD stopped getting feedback from her, he got worried and had begun working on a rescue plan. He realized that if the marketers rearranged the paths, then Natasha wasn't in the right place. The information that was given to her at the beginning of the mission wasn't accurate anymore; she was in trouble.
"Natasha Romanoff," he simply said to each marketer he found on the marketplace. "I need to find her."
It didn't take long for his head to be covered with a sac and pushed along a determined path. Clint memorized the whole path and tried to absorb as many sounds and odors as he could. The marketers would rearrange the stalls in 20 minutes, so he had to be fast. After the sac was taken off his head, he let out a relieved sigh, his lungs getting enough oxygen again. One of the men that had escorted him said something in Afghan to the other and left. Clint was alone with only one man. With two swift moves, Clint had twisted the man's neck. As his eyes scanned the small room, he immediately found Natasha. Her clothes were dusty, her hair completely greasy and messed up with sweat dripping down her forehead, falling onto her lap. Her head was hanging and her breathing was heavy.
Natasha's gaze changed completely once she sensed someone squatting in front of her. The weariness in her eyes disappeared once she saw him. Clint smiled as she breath quickened, waiting him to take the gag off her mouth. Her cracked and dried lips parted as she tried to speak, but she didn't have a chance to do so. Clint's lips were on hers in a second. She leaned in and deepened the quick kiss they shared.
"I didn't mess up this mission," she spoke, out of breath.
"I know," Clint reassured her as he untied her. "Everyone knows that."
Once Natasha was free, she allowed herself to hug Clint. The lingering taste of him in her mouth and his scent were still the same. As was his warmth and embrace.
"I got you, Tasha." Clint let out a relieved sigh, appreciating the fact that she still fit perfectly with him, that he could still dig his fingers into her red curls and feel her heart thumping avidly in her chest. "I got you."
"Can you walk?" He asked her as he immediately wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her get on her feet.
"Yes," she told him. "They are pretty weak at beatings."
"We have to be fast. The marketers are going to change everything in less than twenty minutes."
"I know. Why do you think I was still stuck in there?" Natasha bent down and snatched the gun that the dead man was still holding on to.
Natasha frowned once the hot, bright sun hit her face. Clint was holding her tightly against his body, forcing her to keep up with his pace. As odd as it appeared, Natasha seemed to recover a little as the minutes went by.
"How's your leg?" She asked him, noticing his slight limp.
"It could be better," Clint said, acknowledging the pain in his leg. "I'll have to get knee replacement surgery. I think the doc said that the kneecap was a bit shredded or something."
"Maybe we could go Iowa during your recovery time. You always wanted to show me where you grew up."
"You really think Fury will give you some time off too?"
"He has to. As far as I know, I messed up a mission." She said as a joke.
Clint chuckled. "I never imagined the Black Widow wanting some time off."
Natasha smiled as she told him with no shyness, "The Black Widow doesn't want time off, Natasha does."
Right in the middle of an abandoned and deserted area where there was nothing but sand hills was a SHIELD aircraft. Five agents were carrying palettes of isotope-8, which were Natasha's mission to retrieve. It was a hunt and retrieve mission; Natasha would have to kill the ones that were attempting to sell the iso-8 in the black market and return them safely to SHIELD.
She saw Coulson from afar in his black tuxedo and sunglasses as always, commanding the five men. Natasha realized Clint wasn't alone in the rescue mission. A very familiar voice shouted while they were walking to the aircraft.
"Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!"
"He insisted on coming along," Clint explained as Fury pulled out his gun and started shooting around to kill the snakes. "I have a limp and Coulson is leading a squad of five agents."
The agents that were busy with the loading of the sensitive material showed a little smile when they saw Natasha safe and sound. Clint sat her on the cargo bay and went to look for a first-aid kit to clean her very few and superficial bruises.
"The things your partner makes us do," Coulson spoke as he approached Natasha. "You should reward him. And me too. Have I ever told you that I love shellfish?"
"Yeah, you did."
That was why Natasha loved being at SHIELD. Everybody cared about everyone without being too concerned, and they always kept a light mood. "Great," Coulson said as he went to give orders to his squad, "because I'm waiting for you to buy me dinner someday."
Clint came over with a first-aid kit and sat down in front of her. With extreme care he disinfected the few scratches she had on her hands and face. Natasha gazed at him affectionately, tears pricking in her eyes and a smile plastered on her face. Clint, who had been focused on cleaning her palms, raised his eyes and held her face with one hand, cleaning the other cheek. Natasha closed her eyes from the touch of his warm hands. Clint could make her shiver with just one touch, but unlike Ivan, she loved that feeling. His fingers were warm, brushing her lips, and his gaze was caring. Natasha took his hand in hers and kissed his palm. Her hand soon ran up his arm and her eyes held a desiring gaze, wanting to get lost in him for the moment.
Clint tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Opening his mouth to speak, his voice came out in a sob as he barely managed to swallow his tears, "I'm so glad you're alright. You have no idea, Tasha."
"Actually, I do." Natasha placed her hand on top of his, which was cupping her face. "It's good to be back."
Fury loud steps interrupted their moment. "Agent Barton, when is the surgery?"
"In two days, Sir."
"And how long is the recovering time?"
"Six weeks."
"Agent Romanoff," Fury said looking at Natasha who promptly raised her look to him, "make sure Agent Barton recovers properly this time. I want you two to report back to work in six weeks. Within that time, I don't even want to see your shadow."
"Yes, Sir." The two answered in unison, exchanging a knowing look.
The light of the setting sun warmed her skin. Lying on a soft layer of green grass, the wind played with Natasha's red curls. While her eyes were closed, Clint's were wide open, staring at the sky brushed in pink and purplish tones. The aura of the setting sun was a bright yellow color and tattered grayish clouds moved in the sky. The only sound that could be heard was the wind lightly blowing the tree leaves.
In moments like this, sitting at the porch of the house, Clint would forget about everything else and focus on her. It seemed unreal to say so, but she was so naïve and pure. Natasha was always fond by the slightest of the breezes, the warmth of the sun, the rain that falls on the window pane, the sea waves and the realization that she was loved. She had never acknowledged ordinary love, the simplest act of loving something just for the sake of loving it. Clint made it his duty to be her refuge, the only person she could count on to feel free and normal whenever she wanted.
In moments like this, Natasha would let her guard down. She'd let herself surrender to the little everyday things, and mostly she dedicated all her attention to the man that has never let her down. He was the only one who saw more of her than she ever let on. He loved everything about her and that gave her hope every day. Hope that she wasn't that broken, that she could be fixed. Hope that she could love.
Leaving his crutches behind, Clint limped to reach to her. He lay on top of her and they kissed. In moments like this, there was no Hawkeye or Black Widow, no murders or life-threatening missions. Just Clint and Natasha, a man and woman who love each other, but have never said it to each other. Still, they were fine with that. Their love is the true definition of do or die. They'd rather kill each other to have to sleep with someone else.
Words were unnecessary and would never be enough to verbalize what they felt for one another. They were fine with what they were and what they had. It was the only thing they would never change.
There will never be enough words to describe the amazing work done my beta reader, Gaga4Jeyna. Thanks!