Wren Porter:

Wren Porter had been a spy at Hansen's compound for six months. She had been on a level six SHIELD mission with three other teams, a collaboration effort when Hansen's men took them by storm. They were outnumbered and outgunned. All the agents had been kidnapped, tied up and put in the back of a plane. Wren and her teammates had struggled but to no avail. Then after hours the plane finally landed and were untied (only to be handcuffed) and stepped out into the sun to see the compound towering over them. They were spitefully led inside and strapped to cots. They had been given heavy sedates and soon Wren felt herself falling asleep against her will. The last time she'd felt like that was when she'd gotten her wisdom teeth out years ago. A couple hours later she surfaced from her deep and tranquil slumber despite the fact it had been forced. Wren was groggy and very sore but could still tell she was still strapped in her cot. With great difficulty she lifted her head and could see rows of SHIELD agents unconscious and strapped into cots. Wren concluded that she must have woken earlier than expected. Good. She could use this, but how?

Wren glanced around the room and noticed a tray next to the cot beside her. Several tubes lay on the tray. She could barely make out the words from here. They mostly said things she didn't recognize but one was clearly labeled "cure". As soon as Wren saw it, she knew she couldn't pass the opportunity up. The people here would no doubt be injecting them with horrible things or they wouldn't have put them to sleep. If what was in that bottle was the cure, she needed to get it down her throat and soon. She wriggled her hands in her straps. They were tied fairly tight but her captors were not aware of how sweaty and clammy her hands could get. They were not aware that on a good day she could practically fold her hand into itself and slip out of anything. She used to get teased about her ability to get out of ropes tied in any formation during training. But it had saved her life in the past, and it was about to again. Wren concentrated and soon had slipped her hands out and undid the ties on her feet. She climbed out of her cot and lightly hopped over to the tray. She grabbed the tube that was labeled "cure" and smashed the top against the edge of the metal tray. The top popped off and she slid the liquid down her throat, leaving half the bottle still full. It was a light purple color and tingled when she swallowed but otherwise had no taste or immediate effect.

Wren heard distant voices and a couple seconds later heard them again but closer and footsteps accompanying them. She scrambled to get back into her cot and strap herself back up but not before slipping the half empty bottle up her sleeve. She had just laid back down and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep when she heard two people enter the room.

She heard his voice clearly for the first time. It was not a voice she would ever forget. "Prep them for injections, Andrea. These SHIELD Agents should all be mine in less than 24 hours."

Wren and all the other agents were injected with the Shattered Glass serum and of course, all but Wren was lost to it. She had just kept on pretending to be asleep and let herself be stuck with needles. What she had done was the biggest contribution to SHIELD she'd ever made.

In the weeks following Wren managed to get in contact with SHIELD, and give them vital information on Hansen but not enough to find their location, Wren still didn't know where they were really, no one did. All the while she put up the perfect act of being loyal to Hansen but working behind his back. Wren remembered when Natasha Romanoff had been rescued so early, she hadn't even received the serum to skip phase two. She'd been jealous but also very happy that another agent wouldn't be lost to Hansen, especially one of Natasha Romanoff's skills. SHIELD didn't have many spies like her. Or any for that matter.

During this time, Wren discovered how they were receiving the serums Hansen wanted them to without anyone knowing. The food.

He'd have a special cook make meals that would blend perfectly with the serums so they were tasteless and undetectable. Wren was unaffected because she'd never undergone phase one in the first place. And in the end that's what inspired her. When Clint and Natasha arrived, at first Wren thought Natasha would try to bring down Hansen since she wasn't under his spell anymore. But of course she wouldn't. Not if it put Clint in danger. And it did.

What Wren also knew was that Hansen was hurting Romanoff. Anyone would feel the torture in the walls. The sorrow. The screams.

And Wren couldn't compromise her position. But she wouldn't have to if Clint could save her.

And he could if he was himself.

So Wren pulled out her secret weapon from hiding. The other half of the cure.

It took about a week to get the precise timing. Wren Porter was always a perfectionist. By the time she snuck into the kitchen and was able to slip the cure into Clint's food (this was made easy because Hansen keeps his agent's food separated) time was running out.

Even when Clint had taken the cure unbeknownst to him, it was not the exact cure he needed for the change to be immediate or effective as he had already undergone phase one of Shattered Glass. The cure he had taken was specific to protecting someone so they could never undergo phase one, not undo it.

But it was similar to any other cure involving Shattered Glass, so it could do the job. Clint just needed a push. That push was his love for Natasha Romanoff, buried somewhere inside his soul. Natasha talking to him every day was coaxing that love back out, enacting the cure. Healing him.

It took the threat of her death to bring him back completely.

Clint:

Pushing, every second he was pushing himself. Clint pushed himself to go farther and faster every second than he was able. But still he pushed, and the physical strain he was under went unnoticed. The emotional strain was all that mattered.

Tasha. That was who he had to get to. He had to save Tasha.

He knew exactly where she'd go. The elevator. That secret damned elevator.

He was sprinting up the stairs; it would be much faster that way, when he had an idea. When he came to the next landing he exited through the door and found himself conveniently a few feet away from the clear glass wall that housed Hansen's elevator just outside the building. He pressed himself against the glass and saw a metal sheet seemingly unattached to the anything slowly falling. It rose for a moment and then continued back to slowly falling. He looked down and saw a pool of something bubbling and steaming at the bottom. If you had looked down there just a few minutes ago you wouldn't have been able to see a thing. He looked back up and knew Natasha was on that metal sheet. But how would he get her off it?

Natasha:

I can do this. That was the lie that circled in Natasha's head. She knew she couldn't, not forever. But this lie was trying to keep her alive for as long as possible. And maybe, just maybe she'd find some way to escape.

Escape.

The word unwillingly brought back a memory she'd locked up long ago. She couldn't help but watch it like a movie inside her head as it played out. Sometime ago, she'd been held hostage by some thieves that had acquired the ability of mind control. She'd managed to get out but it was ugly.

She desperately tried to think of anything else, to push it out, but she couldn't. This wasn't her.

When the memory had run its course, she was aware of falling slightly faster than before and took deep breaths. She tried to think of something peaceful and quiet. Something calm.

Calm.

Again a memory surfaced. It was from two years ago when she'd spent the day at Rosemary Beach in Florida. She was trying to build up her cover there but could not help the serenity wash her over every time she set foot on that beach. She saw that place and felt that peace and calm grow inside her. When the memory ended Natasha noticed she was rising. She found the voice to loudly say "What is this?"

She almost immediately got a reply. Hansen's voice through the intercom spoke "It's your life, playing out before you. Memories that connect with anything you think will be forced into your mind. Something I'm quite proud of actually, a little invention I built into this experiment. It should speed up this shebang if I do say so myself.

So there she was. Natasha Romanoff, alone, only accompanied by her memories and the fear of leaving her world broken behind her.

AN: Excuses for the late update this time:

exams

my social life returning from the grave

Christmas

the extremely long journey of recovery from The Time of the Doctor. It's only day two of post Matt Smith. One must be patient.

Anyways, I'm trying my very best to wrap this story up before I go back to school and I hope that works out. Even if it won't be, there will not be very many chapters after this.