Chapter 17

29 November 1017, Ste. 3800 B, Avengers Tower, New York City

"Good morning, Mrs Barton. It seems like we might make a few changes to our usual procedure for today's session. Are you comfortable having both your match and your bonded sister here?"

Eleanor blinked as she heard Dr Swanson's description of Natasha as her bonded sister. No one other than she and Natasha had ever referred to Natasha as her sister. It was, strangely, validating to hear the relationship publicly acknowledged. "Yes, I am."

"Very well. I am pleased to finally have a session with your entire family, Mrs Barton. I think that this could be quite beneficial for each of you. It is my belief that communication has been a primary issue, so we may benefit strongly from all three of you being given the opportunity to speak to each other, instead of just as pairs."

Clint grunted sceptically, but Natasha replied, "I agree, Dr Swanson."

"Very well. I suspect that you might not feel comfortable discussing the confrontation that I just witnessed, yet I also feel that what you were discussing, Ms Romanova and Mr Barton, was very likely at the heart of our chief concern."

Clint removed his arm from around Eleanor, causing her to immediately look up in alarm at him. However, he did not notice because he was intent on staring down the analyst. "That was private."

"Mr Barton, much of what we must discuss in therapy, by its very nature, is private. This is why there are strict expectations of confidentiality for licensed analysts regardless of the designation or gender of the patient or the analyst. In the case of a matched Omega, I cannot share what is discussed with anyone, not even with a physician, unless I have the express, written approval of the Alpha match."

Natasha leant forwards so she could catch Clint's eye. "Yastreb, we need to do this."

Clint crossed his arms over his chest and said gruffly, "I know, Ubiytsatchka."

"Are you willing to share what you and Ms Romanova were discussing, Mr Barton?"

"Not particularly."

Eleanor looked up at Clint and asked desperately, "Please?"

Startled, he looked down at her for a moment, then dropped his aggression and said quietly, "It isn't nice, baby. Are you sure you want to talk about it?"

"Yes, because I need to know what is really going on. I would rather know the truth, even if it is terrible, than continue dreaming up awful scenarios."

Clint looked over at Natasha, who nodded acquiescence. "We were discussing your emotional state, Ellie. You told Natasha that you are broken."

Dr Swanson turned to Eleanor. "Would you describe yourself as broken, Mrs Barton?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Would you be willing to explain why you feel that way?"

"Must I?" Eleanor looked at Clint and then Natasha before she sighed. Then she dropped her head and tried to keep her posture as she had been taught, but inadvertently curled inwards as she began talking. "Well, everyone thinks so, right? I messed up when I was on the old medication, so they changed it to the new one. But making the change has made me worse, so now I'm not allowed to do anything because the physician wants me to rest. I'm not permitted to have visitors, since it might stress me. My match usually comes in after I've gone to sleep, so some days I haven't seen anyone except for Nadezhda, who delivers my meals and sits with me for an hour at teatime. In fact, until just now, it has been four days since anyone has even touched me. I think that I must be awfully broken if people think that I am so fragile that I cannot bear people interacting with me. I can see that my family is so disappointed in me that they stay away." When there was no reply, Eleanor looked up again and asked uneasily, "If broken is the wrong word, then maybe I should say deficient. Would that be better?"

Clint exclaimed, "F***." However, Natasha asked him, "Собираетесь ли ты объяснить или я?"

Dr Swanson frowned. "Please refrain from speaking in any language that everyone here cannot understand."

Clint growled, "Fine." After a moment in which he glared across at the analyst, Clint finally huffed angrily and said, "Natasha was asking if I was going to cowboy up and explain or if she was going to have to do it. At your request, I will reply in English, Dr Swanson: I'll do it, Nata. She's my match, not yours, and I'm not a child that needs prompting. S***." Clint rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. "Eleanor, I have f***ed up so bad that I don't even know where to begin. I trusted the doctor we got for you that complete rest and quiet was crucial for you to heal. He was insistent that I not allow any visitors and that you do nothing but rest calmly in a safe environment. He told both me and Nat that your nerves were too fragile for anything else right now while your body was getting used to the change in meds."

Natasha added hostilely, "And I have been opposed to the isolation policy, Clint."

"Yeah, I know. You have said so repeatedly. However, I figured that a doctor is supposed to know this s***, isn't he?"

The analyst asked Eleanor, "Mrs Barton, does it affect your view any to know that your family was acting on the physician's orders?"

"No, ma'am. The physician has determined that I am incapable of doing anything but resting because I am weak. I think that is just what I was trying to explain before. It is simply everyone's opinion that I am too broken to do anything, so I didn't mean to say anything surprising. I have overheard the physician talking to Natalia twice about how poor my prospects are."

"Ms Romanova, has Mrs Barton's physician spoken to you about this?"

Natasha looked at Eleanor and replied with intensity, "Yes, the physician has said that Eleanor needs rest to adjust to the different medications and he recommended that all unnecessary stimuli be kept to a minimum, even when I suggested that this exact policy was causing more distress instead of soothing her. However, he never stated that my sister was weak or useless or broken or else I would have immediately fixed his face for him."

Clint stood up with a jolt and agitatedly paced across the floor of the room. "So, I've been making you feel worse, Eleanor. Essentially, I've just made everything completely s*** for you."

Eleanor dropped her head again and stared down at the ground. There was too much aggression in the air and she could feel both Natasha and Clint warring with each other. There was even a third layer of scent that she was sensing, which didn't even make sense. What was that about? She was losing her mind. "No, please. Please, it is not your fault. I am the one who made the mistake, Clint."

Eleanor could sense Natasha's anger growing and pleaded with her eyes for Natasha not to attack Clint. As she heard Clint talking, Eleanor was still focussing on Natasha and watching with relief as Natasha indicated with a single nod that she would back down.

"What mistake, baby? I went away for too long, so you were unhappy. When you were chastised for a situation out of your control after that party, I should have fixed that right away. But I didn't, which is my error, not yours. We didn't give you any way to resolve how you were feeling in a healthy way, so you resorted to this maladaptive behaviour that you knew."

Eleanor replied so quietly that it was only just above a whisper, "I knew not to do it. They taught me that in treatment. Relapsing into autolavoma is unacceptable."

Clint shook his head. "You are not deficient or weak. I do not think that. I do not think you are broken, baby. Not at all. I will not pretend that I'm not terrified to know that my match is harming herself when I would do literally anything to keep her from being hurt. I am angry that I cannot fix it and that, apparently, I'm just incapable of being able to make you happy. That is not your fault though, Ellie. That is ALL on me."

Eleanor looked away from him and kept her eyes from focussing on either Natasha or the analyst, who she had finally realised was producing the third layer of scent. Why was Dr Swanson so upset? Eleanor had no idea what she was supposed to say or do.

"Mrs Barton, do you have anything to say in reply?"

Oh. The analyst was not upset with her after all. Her feelings were directed towards Clint. However, Eleanor didn't want Dr Swanson to misunderstand and blame him. He hadn't done anything wrong. "No, ma'am. I don't know what to say to that. I am not harming myself any longer, nor do I have the desire to. Unfortunately, my mistake then is still costing me dearly now. Yet it is still my error and no one else's."

Breaking her silence after an apologetic look at Eleanor, Natasha snapped, "I have opposed this isolation from the beginning, as my brother is quite aware. I have no doubt that there are Omegas for whom a short rest cure is beneficial, however, my sister thrives on personal contact and affection. Instead of a soothing respite, this has been a punishment and I think that it has harmed her significantly."

Eleanor looked briefly over at Natasha and then allowed herself to peek at Clint. His jaw was tightly clenched as he glared at Natasha. She could sense that he was barely controlling himself. In fact, Eleanor thought that it was only her presence and her purposeful exuding of the appeasement hormone that was keeping him from attacking Natasha, who looked quite willing to engage with him. There was a long pause whilst both Natasha and Clint stared each other down—Natasha's intense aggression was shocking to Eleanor, who had never seen Natasha's veneer of control peeled back so completely. Clint let out a low growling sound, to which Natasha replied with hissing fury, "Enough."

Just as Eleanor realised that she might actually be about to witness an Alpha confrontation, she saw Clint's shoulders drop slightly and his scent reduce dramatically. Recognising his intent to yield, Eleanor looked hopefully at Natasha to see if she was going to accept his capitulation. Yet, Natasha appeared unwilling to give in—her body was very tensely poised as if she were going to strike Clint down. "Explain everything, Clinton."

Finally, Clint nodded, which caused Natasha to change her stance and drop her challenge by turning away towards Eleanor. She laid her hand on Eleanor's head and said in a rough, angry voice, "This was never your fault, Lenochka. It was our job to guide you and we failed. It was my mistake, too. I need you to listen to what Clint says, do you understand?"

Bewildered and frightened, Eleanor nodded. "Yes, Natashenka."

Clint waited for Natasha to sit back down, then he turned to the analyst, who was nearly frozen in her chair so as to remain neutral in the confrontation. "Sorry. That shouldn't have happened."

The analyst nodded sharply, but replied tersely, "I will not allow an Alpha confrontation in my session, Mr Barton. This will not be repeated."

"I sincerely apologise, ma'am."

"You, as well, Ms Romanova. This is entirely unacceptable behaviour, especially in front of your Omega sister."

Natasha glared at the analyst, but replied properly, "You are correct. It will not happen again."

Dr Swanson cleared her throat and asked more gently, "Mrs Barton, would you prefer to take a short break? If you would like, we can reconvene in a short while. Or we could end our session early if that would be better for you."

Eleanor shook her head. "No, ma'am. I think that we still need to discuss things, don't we? Natalia feels that it is important and I think that Clint has something to say, so I would prefer to continue, if that is alright."

Clint sighed. "Baby, we can talk later. I'm not going to run away from this conversation. Nat is right that it is important."

Dr Swanson frowned. "The choice to continue is Mrs Barton's, not yours, Mr Barton. Please refrain from influencing her unduly. She has clearly stated her desire to continue."

"Right, ok. I can see that you are quite determined to be fair here, Dr Swanson. As a male Alpha, I naturally only want to control my match, not protect her and comfort her in a difficult situation." Clint's sarcasm was so nasty and bitter that Eleanor peered at him with surprise. He looked down just then and saw her expression, which caused him to deflate noticeably. "I swear, baby, you weren't being punished. I would never do that, Ellie. All I wanted was to make you better. I promise you that I was following the doctor's advice because I trusted him. I don't know anything about this kind of thing, ok? I am just a dude who dropped out of school, who now shoots people with arrows. Everything the doctor said made sense when he explained it, even though it seemed weird when I thought about it later. However, I figured, f***, this guy is supposed to be a specialist, so he ought to know what he was doing. I sure as s*** don't. I know that your designation means that you have very different needs, so I tried not to assume anything based on my own experience. But I never talked to you about what the doctor said though, did I? I should have, so you understood why we were doing that. I really should have asked you how you were feeling, too."

Eleanor said only, "Ok."

"I f***ed up, Ellie, ok? I swear that I want to do better and figure out what you really need."

Eleanor nodded and then looked back down at her lap where her hands were fiddling furiously with her shawl.

Clint came forwards and laid his hand on her cheek and he said more gently than before, "It was not a punishment. I did see that you were unhappy, but I truly believed that was the agonia stuff, like the doctor said, ok? Baby, I have hated having to tell you no every time you wanted to do something. However, the doctor seemed to think that you would not be able to stabilise your nerves from the agonia or whatever if you had any significant emotional stimulation. He insisted on complete calm."

"But she hasn't been calm, Clint!" Natasha snarled. "She's been anxious and miserable because she was shut away like a bird in a cage. You and I both know what being caged feels like."

Clint stepped back as if he'd been kicked in the gut. After several moments in which they traded looks that were clearly a severe, yet entirely silent conversation, Clint said furiously, "Yes, thank you, Natalia Alianova. I've f***ed everything up. I've already admitted that, but if it needs to be said again then I will. I. F***ED. UP. Ok? I was trying to do what they said was best, but I've just made it all worse. It is my fault and I accept the blame. So, what do we do now to make it better?"

Both Natasha and Clint looked towards Eleanor, who immediately shrank back into the cushions of the sofa.

"Ms Romanova, Mr Barton. I think that now is the time for the private portion of our session. It would be best to talk to Mrs Barton alone so she and I can explore some thoughts. After that, we can return to a joint session. I think that the situation today is critical enough that we need to address some of this immediately, even though our time will run much longer than usual."

Natasha stood back up, stared at Clint, and said sharply, "I agree."

"Yeah, whatever we need to do. I'm ready to do anything, ok? I just don't know what needs to be done."

Eleanor waited for a moment, until she realised that they were expecting her to reply. "Oh, ok, that is fine. However, before we do that, could I speak to my match for a moment? Just for a really brief moment, please?"

Dr Swanson smiled tightly and said, "Of course. Ms Romanova and I will step outside to give you privacy."

As soon as the front door of the apartment closed, leaving her alone in silence with Clint, Eleanor stood up and walked over to him. "It really isn't your fault, Clint. I disappointed you by doing something stupid and you don't have to apologise for feeling let down. I did let you down."

"Baby, I don't see it like that. I don't. All I want is for you to feel better and for us to get to a good place. I miss you so much that the ache of it burns at me constantly. I love you so much, Ellie."

She choked down a sob, as she asked, "Why do you stay away then?"

Clint frowned. "When I first came back, I did not want to push myself on you, since you were already unhappy enough. I thought we'd just ease back into being back together. But then the doctor told me that I needed to leave you alone so you could heal. He suggested that you should be allowed your own room, but I could not bring myself to go that far unless you asked for it. So, I came in after you went to sleep, so you wouldn't be bothered."

"Didn't you think that I might miss you, too?"

Clint seemed both embarrassed and hurt as he replied, "I…yes, but not like that. Not like…not the same way, baby."

"Why not?"

"It isn't the same for you as it is for me, Eleanor. You know that."

"Because I am an Omega? I suppose you are right. We exhibit our emotions differently, but we feel them just the same. I have felt horrible and disgusting, since you even look away from me when I'm brushing my hair. You said that I look sick and you think that I'm sabotaging my health."

"No! Baby, please don't say that. F***. You are so beautiful, so perfect, that I have had to force myself to look away or leave the room just so I won't lose control of myself and bother you when I'm supposed to be letting you be free of that. I know that I am a disaster, but I'm not going to put that on you. Baby, I swear that I don't want anything more than I do you."

"It hasn't seemed like it, Clint."

"Then let me be clear right now. I am in love with you. I am wildly attracted to you. I am so wholly caught up in you, Ellie, that I would do anything to make things right for you. Anything. I have followed bad advice and made stupid assumptions and choices partly out of bitterness and anger, but my intentions were always to help you and never to punish you. I don't think that you have anything for which to apologise."

"Okay, thank you. I suppose that I should talk with Dr Swanson now."

"You still believe that I don't want you anymore, don't you?"

"I don't think that you are a liar, Clint."

"No, but you've been so convinced that you are not worth anything anymore that you can't see any other view."

"I am sorry. I do believe that you mean what you say."

"What happened, Ellie? Did you feel this way about yourself from the very beginning?"

She looked away fearfully. "Please, must I answer you now? They are waiting for us."

In response, Clint stalked over to the front door and walked out into the corridor.

29 November 2017, Unregistered Campsite, Someplace Else

Barnes flopped back into his camp chair and growled, "You know how I feel about Canada, Steve."

Rogers smiled indulgently as he replied, "Yeah, I know, Buck."

"And we aren't just in Canada, Steven, we are in Labrador. In November, so it is actually 21 degrees outside and snowing."

Looking pointedly at Barnes' Russian language comic book and his pile of (Russian made) winter gear, Rogers shrugged. "Gee whiz, Comrade Cupcake, you getting soft in your old age? You can't handle a bit of snow all of a sudden? I thought you trained daily in 10 feet of snow and walked uphill both ways in a blizzard when you were living in Mother Russia."

His eyes sparkling as he snorted with amusement, Barnes kept a straight face as he replied, "Aw f*** you, Captain Capitalist. I can take a few measly feet of snow if I gotta, but why bother if you can go somewhere else? We could be waiting it out in the d*mn Virgin Islands or somewhere like that. Why Canada of all cultural wastelands?"

"Jumpin' Jehosophat, Bucky, you're right! Why did I choose here? I'm not sure their local theatre is up to my standards and I just know that their art scene is lacking. I suppose the fact that no one would look for us in Goose Bay was a pretty stupid reason to come here."

Barnes leant back and closed his eyes as he smiled dreamily and said, "Honestly, no one would look for the Winter Soldier on a beach either, buddy."

"True, but if we were lazing around on a beach somewhere, you couldn't wear those nice black gloves you've got. Or sport that stylish black parka. Or your nifty black balaclava. Or those shiny black winter boots you've brought. You might have to wear some d*** colour or somethin'. Aren't you glad I saved you from that horrible fate?"

"Always got an answer for something, pal."

Rogers elbowed his best friend and replied, "You got that right, Buck. If I didn't, you'd run roughshod right over me."

Barnes barely moved as he lazily drawled, "I've got news for you, Steven. You're not the boss in this relationship."

Wilson's laughter grew lounder, causing Barnes to lift one finger in reply. Rogers kicked Barnes' boot and said with a smirk, "Neener, neener, Buck."

Now even Romanoff laughed, so they all relaxed somewhat as they sat quietly for some time, staring into the fire in front of them. They were all exhausted, as they'd taken three missions back to back. But now, as their run as vigilantes was coming to a close, each of them seemed to drift into thought about the next few weeks.

Finally, Wilson asked, "So, am I gonna be arrested when we get there or how's this going to work?"

"I don't know yet, Sam. I've talked to Maria again. She thinks that she can probably get us over the border next week."

Barnes held his hand out and waited until Rogers sighed and handed him the bottle of raki. "When you go into the town to get supplies tomorrow, Wilson, then you better get a couple of bottles if we're gonna be here that long."

Wilson threw a stick into the fire angrily. "Hey, I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb here, you know. I may be the most normal looking of all of us, but this is Canada, man. I do not look like a local."

Romanoff tossed back the remaining portion of the raki and sharply added, "At least you don't look like a giant killer Ken doll, a vicious baby-killing cyborg, or me. We stand out far more, Wilson."

Barnes leaned back and closed his eyes again as took a sip out of the flask he'd just refilled. "Don't tell the man stories, Romanova. You and I can both do unobtrusive if we want. We just don't wanna. I'm going to sleep."

Rogers kicked Barnes' boot to acknowledge his friend's comment and then muttered to Romanoff, "A giant killer Ken doll, Nat? I'm only two inches taller than Buck, you know. And he's just as broad as I am."

Romanoff patted his knee and said quietly, "Barnes is thick with muscles. You're sculpted. There's a difference. No one misses you coming, Steve. You couldn't do undercover work even if you had a year of study under Prepodavatel' Sheremeteva."

Barnes grunted. "Steve isn't meant for that kind of thing. If anyone has to do that, then you and I will. I'm serious; I need sleep."

Even Romanoff respected the threat behind that statement, so she snatched the Major Grom comic that had slid out of Barnes' lap onto the ground and settled back to read it with Rogers' arm around her shoulders.

29 November 2017, Small House Near Suhar, Oman

Steve sighed. "Sounds like things are pretty bad with them, Tony."

"Mm. They are. Barton has f***ed things up royally."

"If she has agonia, then it isn't really his fault though. You can't just blame Clint for everything, Tony."

Tony dropped his feet off the table, which was covered with the remains of dinner, several devices on which Tony had previously been obsessively working, and four guns that Steve had been methodically cleaning. "No. F*** that. Ellie doesn't have agonia. The physician that I found is apparently a s***head. I don't believe she has agonia anymore than your match does. Ellie was sad that Barton was gone. She was worried about something Romanova did—that neither Barton or Romanova will explain by the way. Then something else that is apparently a state secret happened that scared both of our assassin twins and all of a sudden Barton grabs the first flight out of Doha back to New York. Subsequently, the physician f***ed around with Ellie's medications, after which she was so miserable that she could barely sit up in the bed when I visited. Tell me how you would feel if you were forced to stay in bed all day for a month, Steve?"

"I'd probably end up being admitted to a psychiatric facility, honestly."

"Exactly. Barton, Romanova, and the physician have created this supposed agonia by making mistake after mistake with Ellie. Last week, I started my attorneys looking into this physician. Looks like he's deep in the OPS's pocket. I don't know what the OPS's angle is here, but it is clear to me that there is one. Therefore, I found another physician who has no puppet master that JARVIS can discover. Also, I had my people draw up the paperwork to have this d***head removed from the Omega Health Physician's Association for a purposefully false diagnosis. But we cannot do anything until Barton comes around and the new physician concurs with what we think happened. When we talked yesterday, Romanova was in agreement."

Steve stood up and looked over at Sam, who was sleeping soundly. "You think that they would actually try to purposefully cause Eleanor to have agonia?"

"Frankly, yes. The Avengers made them look bad. As soon as they realised that an unmatched, North Shore-educated AAA was without a proper guardian, the OPS started offering her to interested families sight unseen. Apparently, the mayor was already in talks with the head of OPS New York to bondmatch his oldest son to Eleanor when the social worker reported that Eleanor had acknowledged Clint's claim. A lot of money was going to change hands and powerful connexions would have been formed. They want to make an example of both Eleanor and Clint and, if possible, all of us."

Steve dropped his head into his hands and groaned. "Just when I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, the government isn't as bad as I think, then I'm offered proof that they are worse. Everything went so well with my bondmatch to Clémence that I had begun to hope that Eleanor's situation was an aberration."

"Nope. In fact, the OPS has both Emilie Barnes and your Clémence under close scrutiny."

Jolting up from his seat, Steve clenched his fists and snarled, "If they so much as consider touching a hair on her head, then I will gut them with my bare hands."

Standing in the doorway to the kitchen with his rifle still gripped in one hand, Bucky calmly commented, "Hey, now. You don't want to go ripping out entrails barehanded, Steve. You cannot imagine the mess that would make. Much easier to shoot them in the head, pop them in the bathtub, and then we'll pour in some суп из щелочи."

Tony grimaced. "I have no idea what zup iz shel-whatever is, Barnes, but I suspect it is very nasty and I want no part of it. No one is going to touch your Clémence, Steve."

Undeterred from his fury, Steve snarled, "I know they won't, since I will put them down before they can try."

Bucky moved closer to Steve and put his hand on Steve's arm. "We'll stand together, Steve, don't worry. You and me. Clémence is as safe as my Emilie. Can we calm back down now, pal? You're scaring the purported iron man over here."

Tony glared at Bucky, but was obviously relieved when Steve sat back down with Bucky by his side. "The security in the tower is four levels deep, Steve, in addition to whatever you and the cyborg here have added in your respective apartments. No one is getting to any of the ladies. I may not have a match of my own, but I am a f***ing Alpha and you are my team. Team is family."

Bucky tilted his head back and nodded in the nearly archaic sign of Alpha respect towards Tony and said only, "Уважение."

Pleased, Tony smirked and lounged back as he waited for Steve's response. Yet Steve was still clearly unstable, as he slumped in his chair and looked at Bucky. "I didn't even get six weeks with her."

Bucky grunted and knocked his shoulder into Steve's side again. "She's completely loyal. The bondmatch will do fine."

"Yeah. Yeah. I know you're right, Buck."

"So, let's dial it back and maybe get some sleep. Sound good?"

"Fine. Yeah. No, wait. Tt is only the middle of the afternoon there, right? I could call."

Bucky laughed. "Yeah, you sure could." He fished the sat phone out of his tac vest and passed it to Steve. "I just talked to Emilie. They are playing Cartouche in my apartment."

"That's good. It sounds like she is doing ok. Maybe I shouldn't interrupt."

"Don't pretend that you're an idiot, Steve."

Steve grabbed the weapon that Bucky was handing him and stalked out of the room, so he could make the call.