It took a few hours of sleep after Natasha passed out to shake her from the memories and by the time her eyes flew open, she'd relived nearly every encounter she had with the Winter Soldier.
"How were they recruited?" She asked the men around her to get filled in on the briefings as she got dressed. They wouldn't let her close the door all the way, even though she had no blades and JARVIS was enabled in her bathroom as well.
"Mostly prisoners of war from World War II. Fury says there were at least 12 based on Viktoriya's accounts."
"So you could be seeing old war buddies," she replied to Steve as she pulled her hair into a ponytail.
"My men weren't taken alive, Natasha. They didn't do this to you."
"That wasn't why I was asking, Steve. But I guess that's comforting."
"Natasha, how many do you remember?"
"I only interacted with one. I didn't even know there were several, but I did know it was a program, so I suppose I should have."
The team seemed relieved at this statement as she emerged from the bathroom in her skintight black suit, gun strapped around her leg.
"What?"
"There's only one active that they have been able to track so far. The sleeper cell is suspected to be using one active soldier and have the rest in some crude form of cryo. It's unlikely that the one they've tracked and is active is the one you know, which will simplify things." Tony explains.
"You and Clint will be co-piloting and you'll be non-combatant on this mission."
"That's not fair, why isn't Clint non-combatant too?"
"Clint, when was the last time you unexpectedly passed out from lack of food and overexertion?"
"Never have, Cap." He affirms. "Nat, it's for the best. Especially on this one."
"And what about the next mission? Will I have to sit back and watch that one too?"
"This threat has to do with you specifically. We had to report what you told us about Russia's attempts at a super soldier in case it became a threat and then your handler gave us even more reason to suspect. We can talk about other missions later," Steve said as they boarded the helicarrier. The SHIELD pilots exited the plane and Clint and Natasha took their places in the cockpit.
She had been disconnected from the IV fluids when she woke up, but she could feel them sloshing around her stomach and she moved. Her suit felt a bit tighter, too, and she resolved that she would fight them when they returned to avoid any more unnecessary weight gain.
"It's about an 8 hour flight, guys. Let's go over the plan of attack," Clint said after switching into a glide and walking Natasha back into the main area of the plane. While they discussed strategy, she managed to stay unnoticed as she slipped into the bathroom on board. It was a small space with just a toilet, sink, and a few cabinets with first aid supplies, but she knew there would be a pair of medical-grade scissors for cutting stitches stashed in one of the cabinets with a first aid kit. In total, it took less than two minutes to locate and decide that her ankles would be the next best option, in part because of ease of access in her suit.
The skin over her ankles was thin and would not result in satisfying cuts, but it would do for now. She took the opportunity to make 20 marks on each one, careful not to cut too deeply this time. Then, she replaced the scissors and flushed the toilet, making all the right sounds and motions to indicate she had to use the restroom before exiting, wholly unnoticed by the team, who were still discussing attack strategies. She felt much more refreshed and able to tackle this mission, but they were still at least 7 hours out from their target, so she resolved to listen to their chatter and occasionally banter with them. A few of her teammates offered small smiles at her attempts, glad to see her trying to get back to some sense of normalcy.
About thirty minutes before they reached their destination, the team turned to her.
"We shouldn't be gone for more than two hours and we will all be on comms. If something happens or you need one of us, you can call. There's nothing dangerous on this ship, so you should be okay, but I've enabled JARVIS in all areas..."
"Got it, don't act psycho while you're gone." She said, doubting Tony's last statement as she had already hurt herself and nothing had happened.
"Natasha," Bruce said warningly.
"Sorry doc, don't act like I'm sick."
Clint gave her a firm hug before he left the ship and signed a few blanket reassurances before running into the wooded area in front of them. As soon as her teammates were out of earshot, she muted her comms and let out a sigh of relief.
"JARVIS?" She called out tentatively and heard no response. "I know you're there."
The plane remained silent, meaning Stark must have missed something on their way out. She smiled to herself as she retrieved the scissors once again.
"Comms check #1, Nat?" Steve's voice rang in her ear.
"Still as fine as when you left two minutes ago, boys. Are you all in position?" The various men checked in and called out their positions as she muted once again to focus on the tasks at hand. First: get rid of the disgusting sloshing in her stomach from the fluids. This would not be a difficult task since she was nauseous from the IV anyway, but just as she began to stick a finger down her throat, she was reminded of the sensation of men entering her mouth violently and she quickly pulled her hand away.
Okay, she thought to herself, vaguely aware of the chatter on comms indicating that they had seen movement in the building. I've got to get calm first, so I need to cut first. She removed both of her boots and tall socks, which she had pulled up over the legs of her suit. The panic in her mind made her reckless and she had to use all of her concentration to focus on not cutting too deeply, just like the cuts in the hours before.
"Shots fired, he's moving toward you, Clint. Is anyone hit? All report."
Her hand slipped when she heard this, slicing a thick line into the skin just below her toes.
"Fuck," she hissed. Each man reported that they were fine as she frantically covered the wound with toilet paper to stop the bleeding.
"Natasha, report."
"Just fine boys, I think you've got a bigger threat than me staring at trees," she grunted in a strained voice that she hopes came across as boredom. On the floor, she managed to scoot herself toward the bathroom and dunked the scissors into the toilet to rinse off the blood before shaking the droplets dry and hoping no one would notice them out of place in the cabinet near the floor. She would have time to move them if the soldier moved away from Clint's position about 50 yards into the woods from the helicarrier, but she was confident her team would take them down before that. Most likely, Clint would get them with a paralytic arrow and they would be collected within minutes, which meant she really needed to stop this bleeding. Lucky for her that her uniform was black, so she replaced the toilet paper with a stack of clean sheets, flushed the evidence, and replaced her sock, rolling it up under her suit so that she wouldn't accidentally roll it down when undressing if one of the boys watched.
"Tony, I could use an assist here."
"20 meters your 3 o'clock... running closer but zig-zagging... I may have a better shot, Legolas."
"You don't have paralytics, point him my way."
"Why is he wearing that mask?"
"Later, Steve!"
"Alright, he's headed straight your way. Banner, any luck cracking the compound?"
"I'm almost in. There are heat signatures for 11, so it must be all of them. But it looks like they're moving, not in cryo."
"No one is supervising?"
"Looks like maybe our guy on the run was."
"Banner, do not enter. JARVIS's scans show weapons. Head back to the carrier and wait with Nat. Clint? Update?"
There was silence for a few moments.
"Barton, report."
"Stark, come collect," he replied breathlessly. "Looks like an about 30-year-old male. Long Brunette hair. Blue-grey eyes. Pretty muscular, kinda short though."
"Got it," Fury chimed in. "Bring him directly to SHIELD."