Guys, I am sorry. That last chapter was downright horrible, and I should have rewritten it, or least waited a bit to reconsider before hitting that publish button. It is one of the only chapters I have posted that I feel truly awful about, and I regret the crummy addition. I really hope this chapter will make up for it! I am going to do my best to make it a good one! Also, a part of me wants to try and post the final chapter on December 4th because that is the day I first published this story. But that is a while from now, so right now I am not sure when this story will end….
She hated having drugs in her system. She had been through it all, had had every possible thing pumped into her veins as a young girl. By the time she turned thirteen the red room had her hooked on everything they could put their subjects on. Mostly chemicals and liquids that increased her strength, powers, length and (they claimed) quality of her life. These were strong drugs, that overwhelmed Natasha's system, and increased her dependency of the red room through her addiction. The drugs had made sure that it would be even more difficult for anyone to escape; ensuring that if anyone did manage to, they would quickly be crippled by the addiction and detox of suddenly being off of all their medication. Making it even easier for those who betrayed the red room to be caught, and properly disposed of.
But Natasha had managed to escape. Though if Clint hadn't been the one to save her, she would never have made it. He had taken her to one of his secret apartments, one she later learned no one knew about in Shield, she had been the first person besides him to step foot in it. He had protected her, allowed her to detox. Got her through hell, and when she came out on the other side, offered her a chance at a new life. Even after what he had done for her, risked by taking her in instead of taking her out, she had not trusted him. But she had not killed him either, and at the time that was more than could be said about any of the others in the past who had attempted to help the Black Widow. She had gone with him, and that day vowed to never fall victim to drugs altering her mind or body again.
So what was happening now? How had she gotten here? Everything was dark, and dulled, numbness and nothing. Just as she felt the slow irregular beat of her heart, the struggle of her lungs filling themselves with air, she could feel the heavy medicine as it flowed through her body. This place was a mystery, and at the same time all too familiar. Occasionally a dull pain would start at the very base of her being, and begin to consume her. And she welcomed this, welcomed the sensation, the feeling, reassurance she was (probably) still alive. Then a pinprick of annoyance would rise up in her wrist, and like a blanket the drugs would wrap themselves around her, not quite putting the Black Widow to sleep, and preventing her from waking up.
In rare moments of clarity, she tried to piece together what had happened. Once the first memory pierced the veil, it became easier to put together the rest. The Winter Soldier. Her old nemesis. She had been after him, been trying to finally catch the ghost. Had he captured her? Was she under enemy hands? She had to wake up… Had to escape, she refused to die like this. Drugged like an animal, without the smallest of fights. She would rather kill herself than go like this…. At this thought, the pinprick came again, and soon after it whatever drugs she was on overwhelmed her.
But the next time she could again form her ideas, her words into strings of thoughts, she remembered. She killed the Winter Soldier. They killed the Winter Soldier. Who was they? Her and Clint? No, not right, that was wrong. He was on a mission in New Mexico guarding a hammer…. He was being controlled by a Demigod and there was not a damn thing she could do about it… He was about to kill her, but instead she collapsed and he picked her up in his arms. Told her she could stop running, it would be ok now.
No. Clint was in Asia, and Steve had been with her when they took down the Soldier. That was right. She remembered like a flash of sun entering this gloom, Steve stealing a car and warning her to not put her feet up on the dash. Breaking into a building and finding an army of soldiers with the soldier- with Bucky, Steve said he was Bucky, at their core. She shot the bullet that went through him, she remembered because before shooting him in the heart, she had aimed for the same place he had shot her. A petty revenge maybe, but one she had enjoyed carrying out. What had happened next?
Everything was so slow and messed up in her brain. She remembered feeling like this, having a stranger whisper in her ear. Now someone else was whispering to her and it was all getting so messed up."You are loyal to Mother Russia. Your name is Anastasia, your husband is dead and you are a ballet dancer." "Nat, you have to wake up. I need you." "You will do as we say, and obey the Red Room." "You can't leave me, I don't know what I would do without you." "You are to work alone, always." "Tash, I can't live alone again." "If we ask you, you will kill yourself for us." "I wish it could have been me instead Natasha. I would rather kill myself than have you die."
Clint's voice made Natasha want to fight even harder to wake up, and confused her even more. Was this a trick? Was she hearing things? Was Clint even here? He sounded so sad, so very sad. He was so much less damaged than she had ever been, she still wanted to protect him. Not that she would say that out loud. He shouldn't be sad, not over her. She never thought if she died anyone would be there to cry over the body. Well now she had someone who would do more than that, and she wished that he did not care so he could be spared this heartbreak.
There had been an explosion. So many explosions. Tearing her parents bodies apart, setting her house on fire. Throwing Steve away from her, knocking him into a wall. Giving her an opening to get in, find the target, and get out. Tossing her out of the window of the lab, Banner landing heavily next to her as she made impact with the her into a wall, again, and again, and again. How many times can someone exist in the midst of fire, heat, pure power, and destructiveness, before they are not lucky enough to make it out alive? Apparantly she had been able to do so at least one more time. She remembered the force introducing her to the side of the building, then burying her in debris and ash, and the question of why she was still alive.
Natasha's thoughts were flipping and playing so rapidly she could hardly focus on them. Memories she had buried down in the depths of her soul, hoping to never again remember, where played out as clearly as the day they happened. During those times she desperately wished her friends (or enemies) would pump more of the drugs into her, allowing her to go back to the darkness. When she was 12 a girl she had dared to call a friend in the red room had gone on a mission, and had come back with some nasty burns on her face, a badly broken leg, and sight in only one eye. The girl had been put up as an example to the others. "Let your comrade be a message to every last one of you. She was sent on a mission, and failed. She has been injured badly enough to need several months to recover, and almost blew her entire cover. We have brought you here today to show what happens when you work for the Red Room, and provide nothing but a drain on our resources as you recover from injuries you cause through your own carelessness. The girl had whimpered, and young Natasha sensed what was to come. She did not want to believe it would actually happen, but it did. The sound of a gunshot filled the room, the fog enveloping and consuming Natasha turned the same color of red that her fallen comrades color had been.
Was she here to heal safe in the arms of Shield, or had she been captured so that once they knew she would live, an enemy force could get the pleasure of destroying her? Or worse, once again tear her down, and bring her up as a new puppet to be controlled?
Soon, she knew, this would be over, She would either wake up and, and learn her situation, or else move on to whatever was next. Give up. Die. For once she had no clue what was going on, no idea what to do.
Sometimes she had moments where she knew that she was hallucinating, but didn't care. Because she knew that she couldn't be a little girl again, standing at the ballet barre learning how to dance. No, she was not on her first mission, hardly hesitating before carrying out her first contracted kill. Because that first time, after the mission, she felt nothing. And now living it out again she was filled with guilt. She had to work to convince herself that she was not really back in Budapest, meeting Clint for the first time. Probably because part of her wanted that memory to be real.
Other times, she hovered close to breaking the unconsciousness, never for more than a few minutes, always so close to breaking out into consciousness never quite able to. During those times she was sure she heard the beeping of machines, smelled the sharp antiseptic smell of a hospital room.
Then, there were times when she was not at all sure if she was almost on the verge of waking up, or hallucinating. Like when she heard Tony's loud laughter, overconfident, hiding what he was really feeling- whatever that was. Or when she heard Thor's booming voice, trying to be quite, and rambling about things like Asgardian medicine, and his hope that she would feel better soon.
The times when she was most unsure about what was happening, was when she heard Clint talking to her. Telling her stories of his childhood she had never heard before. Making inside jokes, promising if she got better he would do anything.
And again and again, she was sure she heard Clint say that he loved her. Could not live without her. Begging her to wake up.
Natasha was not 100% sure if all of this was even real or not, did not know if she wanted it to be. All she knew was that she wanted to wake up, had to wake up, for Clint.
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Next chapter might be the last one, this was so fun to write about Nat and how she is reacting to the drugs in her system keeping her uncurious, and how she is doing after the surgery! Next chapter might be the last one, BUT got an AMAZING new fic idea from the EPIC AGE OF ULTRON TRAILER! I CAN NOT WAIT TO START WRITING!