hey guys, i'm so sorry for such a late update! to make up for it, i'm gonna post the next chapter tomorrow, since i had to split this chapter in half! :)
i hope you enjoy it, and i'm sorry i couldn't make their happiness last just a lil longer :( it's all leading up to something, so i hope you can forgive me!
thank you always for your reviews and support! hope you enjoy xx
Clint watched warily as Natasha twisted on the bed beside him, her face screwed tightly in pain. Her hands were curled into fists, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before she lashed out, so he quickly stood and put his pants on, stepping away from the bed.
Natasha's fist slammed down on his pillow, directly where his face had been seconds ago. She moaned, then threw the same arm over her face as though she was protecting herself. Clint frowned, feeling his heart break the longer he stood there. Whilst Natasha had nightmares regularly, it had been a months since she had last had such a violent one. Usually, he was safe to wake her up, or she would wake herself up before it got too bad.
He had almost forgotten what it felt like to watch. Natasha was crying, muttering too quietly for him to hear; she tossed from side to side, legs kicking into the air like her life depended on it. Clint didn't like waking her up from these kinds of nightmares, not after what had happened years ago when he had accidentally grabbed her. He hadn't made that mistake again.
He briefly wondered if he should put his shirt on too, then realised that Natasha was wearing it again. He was procrastinating, worried that waking her would be the wrong thing to do, but then she pressed her fists into her eyes and screamed.
Lucky scrambled up from where he had been sleeping on his mat, leaping onto the bed before Clint could even process what had happened. The puppy jumped onto Natasha and Clint sprung into action, snatching Lucky from where he had been about to burrow against her stomach. Natasha woke up with a gasp, her whole body moving seemingly before her brain registered what was happening, and in less than a second she was on the ground and crawling away from him.
"Nat!" he called, hoping to filter through whatever was happening inside of her head and catch her attention. "Hey, Nat, easy. It's okay."
The door flew open as Chase burst into the room, brandishing a plastic spatula. "What's wrong?"
Natasha stopped moving at the sight of Chase, but the sound she made tore Clint's heart in half. She curled in on herself, hands tucked protectively over her head, and started to sob.
"It's just a nightmare," Clint said to both of them. He moved slowly towards the door, holding Lucky out in front of him for Chase to take. "It's fine. Lucky woke her up. It's okay."
Chase accepted the dog. "It doesn't –"
"I know," Clint snapped. He let out a shaky breath and scrubbed at his still tired eyes. "Okay. I know."
Chase didn't say anything else, taking Lucky with him as he left. He didn't close the door, and Clint was secretly thankful; the last thing he needed was for Natasha to think she was trapped anywhere, and at least if she did make a run for it Chase would be able to help Clint find her.
He took a deep breath and lowered himself onto his hands and knees, moving across the bedroom towards her carefully. She was rocking herself on the spot, and he ached to reach out to her and make it all okay.
"Hey, Tasha," he called softly, keeping his voice steady. "It's just me. Its just Clint. Can you hear me?"
Natasha shuddered, shaking her head quickly from side to side. Clint didn't know what she was trying to say, or if she even knew what was happening. He needed to find out where her head was to know how to help her.
"S'okay, Tash," he assured her. "It was just a bad dream. You're safe, kay? Can you open your eyes and tell me what you see?"
For a second Clint was sure that Natasha wasn't going to respond to him, and fear clawed at his throat. He didn't know what to do if she didn't wake up properly, apart from grabbing her and hoping it would snap her out of whatever hell she was stuck in. He didn't want to do it, but slowly stretched his arm out towards her, reaching for her shoulder.
Natasha peeked out at him from under her hands, eyes red and watery. Clint froze, then lowered his arm back to the ground and tried to meet her gaze. Her face was glassy, her expression stuck somewhere between fear and confusion. Her eyes flicked around the room as though it were the first time she was seeing it.
"What do you see?" Clint prompted again.
"Is dark," Natasha said, her voice hoarse. Clint shuffled a little closer to her, straining to hear her. She flinched and shook her head again. "I don't know."
"Shhh, it's okay," Clint murmured. "We're in Washington. Do you remember what's in Washington?"
Natasha drew in a deep, choking breath, tugging on her hair. Clint watched her chest heave as she struggled to breathe, and moved over to her side before he even realised what he was doing. She jumped as he rubbed her back, but he couldn't watch this and not do anything in case she ended up hurting herself.
"Breathe, Tash," he murmured to her, applying more pressure to her back in the hopes it would shock her into drawing a breath. "C'mon, nice and deep."
"Ya ne mogu," Natasha moaned. Her whole body shook, and she pulled her hands from her hair to instead push herself up onto her knees. In the dim light of the room Clint could see that her face was flushed, silvery tears dripping from her cheeks.
"You can," Clint said, moving with her so he could instead grip her hands tightly. "Watch me. In and out. C'mon, Tasha, you gotta breathe."
Natasha clung to his hands, but managed to draw some air into her lungs. Clint didn't know how much time passed before she finally started to relax again, shoulders hunching as her breaths became steadier. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles until she pulled away again, and then sat watching her warily.
"You okay, Nat?" he asked carefully, not wanting to push her too far again. "It was just a bad dream. You're safe."
Natasha reached up and hit herself in the face, then did it again and again, harder each time. Clint grabbed her arm to stop her, but she immediately switched hands and kept smacking her palm against her cheek. Blood trickled out of her nose from the force, and Clint curled himself around her even as she struggled to break free from him.
"Stop, stop, stop!" she cried, twisting in his arms.
"Nat, it's okay," he told her, keeping his arms wrapped around her torso so she couldn't move her hands. "You're safe. You're in Washington. Come back to me."
Natasha threw her head back, narrowly avoiding Clint's shoulder. He felt hot tears burn the back of his eyes as he held her, just waiting for her to get whatever was happening out of her system. He had never felt so helpless in his life.
"It was a bad dream, Tasha," he said. "C'mon, love. We're safe here."
"Home," Natasha choked out, finally going slack in his arms. He cautiously reached up to brush the sweaty hair off her forehead, then stroked his thumb over the angry red marks on her cheek.
"Yea, home," he murmured, rocking her. "You're safe, you're okay."
"Home," Natasha insisted. "Nyet. I am –"
"Washington," Clint elaborated, feeling a sick feeling of dread settle in his stomach. "We're safe in Washington. Me and you and Chase and Lucky."
"Washington," Natasha echoed. She pressed her face against his chest and Clint felt her blood against his skin. "Is bad dream."
"It's okay," Clint assured her. "It's not real."
Natasha nodded, then tried to slam her head against her own knee. Clint swore under his breath and wrapped himself tighter around her, one of his legs holding both of hers down. He didn't know why she was trying to hurt herself, or what the nightmare could have possibly been about. She had reacted this way after she had been triggered in Brooklyn, but even then it hadn't been this violent.
"It's okay," Clint whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek despite his best efforts to hold them in. "Don't hurt yourself, Tasha. You're okay. It's safe here."
Clint didn't loosen his hold when she grew still this time, rocking her in what he hoped was a soothing motion. He felt her breath on his neck as it evened out, and it shocked him to realise that she was asleep again, her nose still dripping tiny droplets of blood onto him.
The room was silent, and Clint finally let himself relax. He carefully untangled his legs from hers, pulling her into a more comfortable position on his lap. Natasha curled into him, and he watched her eyes twitch beneath her eyelids. She was dreaming again, but her face was calm for now.
"'S'all good," Clint said, mostly to himself. "It was… it was just a nightmare."
"Some nightmare," Chase said, and Clint glanced over to see him standing in the doorway. "I could hear her crying."
Clint nodded, hastily wiping the last of the moisture from his cheeks as Chase came into the room and sat down on the ground beside them. Natasha's lips parted slightly and she sighed, head sliding down his chest just slightly. She was only wearing his shirt and her underwear, but Clint figured it would be the least of her worries if she happened to wake up and notice Chase.
"Everything alright?" Chase asked. He looked tired, and for the first time it occurred to Clint that Chase probably woke up as often as they did when Natasha had a nightmare.
"It wasn't great," Clint admitted. "I'm not sure she was ever fully awake. It was kinda like… sleepwalking or something. She spoke a little but it wasn't really coherent. I think she's anxious about going back to Iowa, and maybe it brought up some bad memories."
Clint had been the one to suggest going to Iowa last week, and whilst Natasha had agreed with him she had been a little distant ever since. He wasn't looking forward to the trip either, but wanted to get their things out of storage and move them somewhere else now that S.H.I.E.L.D knew where he had grown up.
A part of him was almost looking forward to going home, though. They had left in such a rush that Clint hadn't really had time to process leaving, and he was interested to see if the houses were still standing. He was a little worried they might run into Barney, but was hopeful it might also bring them some closure.
"Could've also been the sex," Clint added after a moment. Even though they took things slowly, they were still just teenagers having fun and trying new things, and sex was something they generally both enjoyed.
There had been a few times that they had stopped when Natasha became too overwhelmed, but she had never regressed or flashbacked like this, and more often than not it was her who initiated it anyway. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty, even though he knew none of it was his fault.
Clint looked at Chase, expecting him to say something about not wanting to hear about what they got up to in their own time, but the older man was staring at Natasha with his jaw clenched.
Clint swallowed. "I guess… Maybe the combination of the two…"
"I wish her uncle was still alive so I could kill him myself," Chase snapped. "Wish I could find every one of those bastards and just…"
"I know," Clint said, and started rocking Natasha again. "I feel the same way."
"Why's she bleeding?" Chase asked.
Clint glanced down, then gently swiped his finger under her nose to remove some of the blood. "She hit herself."
"Damn," Chase said, eyebrows raised in shock. "Did she mean it?"
"I don't know," Clint groaned. "I've never seen her like that before. She was really trying to hurt herself."
Natasha made a small noise in the back of her throat. Clint ran his hand down her back, smoothing out her hair as he went. His legs were beginning to go numb but there was no way he could move right now.
"We still going to Iowa, then?" Chase asked.
"Yea," Clint replied, blowing out a breath of air. "I think we just need to get it over with. Once we have our stuff we can work out our next move, but I'm leaning towards another Red Room investigation."
"I like that idea too," Chase agreed. Now that he knew what had happened to Natasha, and what was still potentially happening to other young girls, Chase had expressed his desire to shut down their operation several times. "I've already got some names and places. It's not a lot, but it's a start."
Clint felt Natasha tense a split second before she moved, grabbing her wrist in mid air before she could hit her face. She moaned, pushing her head hard against Clint's chest, features pinched in pain. He braced himself for another panic attack but she only twisted feebly in his arms, trying to free her hands so she could hit herself.
"Shhh, Tasha," Clint murmured, lips close to her ear. "You're okay. Nice and easy."
Her eyes were still closed as she struggled, nails now digging into the soft flesh of her thighs. Clint didn't have enough hands to stop her, and Chase looked caught between wanting to help and wanting to leave. After another second though she relaxed against him, head lolling on his shoulder.
"It's different from other times," Chase commented.
"There could've been a new trigger and we just didn't realise at the time," Clint said. "Coulson said they had ways of getting rid of that kinda stuff but… I didn't want to tell him about it all. How bad it could be."
"S.H.I.E.L.D sounds better everyday," Chase commented, pushing himself to his feet. "You need a hand getting her to bed?"
"Gonna stay here a while," Clint grunted. "I don't wanna make it worse."
Chase nodded and left them alone. Clint knew they had an early flight and that it would be an emotional day tomorrow, but he wasn't ready to give up the tiny shred of peace they had managed to settle into. Chase was right; S.H.I.E.L.D did sound better, especially if they could help Natasha.
He didn't want to admit it, but she had been getting worse, and they had no idea how to deal with it. Maybe after tonight he would be able to convince her to give it a go.