AN: So I had another chapter in me. Who knew? We'll see if there's more after this. I will always keep this status as complete and will not leave cliffhangers so if no further inspiration strikes, I can leave the story "as is". *still feels guilt for unfinished stories for which she has lost the muse* As always, I own nothing, I make nothing from it, I'm just having some fun.
The nightmares started a little over a week into their time at the cramped, Polish safehouse. Natalia, having since gotten an air mattress to sleep on, went from being restless to letting out a whisper of a scream across the room, her breath too far gone to mount any louder sound.
Clint woke immediately; they had become rather in-tune with each other during their time of confinement. Natalia had gone over much of her training and time in the Red Room. Too much of it sometimes, for Clint's taste. He wished he didn't know all that he knew now about the organization and what had been done to her. So when he heard her muted wail, it didn't come entirely as a surprise.
He wasn't a therapist by any means, but he had survived his own terrible situations and he knew that despite some coping mechanisms being dysfunctional, they were still how people coped. If they didn't figure out a new way to cope with the pain or trauma, it could actually make it worse. He had also been forced to go through a lot of therapy himself by SHIELD before they would allow him out on missions, which at least gave him some ideas on how to handle a damage psyche.
He went to her side, careful not to touch her; he didn't know what exactly her nightmares were, but he was willing to bet they involved violence in some way. "Natalia, you're in Poland, you're safe. You're in a room with Clint Barton." His voice was soft and soothing as he went over basic facts that were detailed enough to perhaps help convince her mind that it hadn't invented them itself.
Breathing hard, clutching the blanket in her fists, Natalia didn't speak at first. She had stopped the sound coming from her mouth, worked hard at controlling her breathing as she glared at Clint.
He met her eyes, apology in them. "We went too far, I'm sorry." While the main goal of their sequestration in Poland was to ensure that she was safe to be around other agents, he had fully debriefed her in preparation for what she was going to face when she went in. That meant they had gone over a lot of ground that probably should have had professionals involved to help her deal with the aftermath.
The woman finally had composed herself enough to speak, "No. I need to deal with this."
"There are people at SHIELD that can help you deal with your past. People who are better at it than I am," Clint explained apologetically.
"They've never gone through what we have though. They haven't truly murdered people. Murdered people and enjoyed it." Her voice was tight, straining to stay even.
His eyes went to her hand, then to his own, asking permission to touch her before he did; she gave a small nod in return. He took her hand, holding it tightly, "No, they haven't. But sometimes telling someone like that what happened and having them not judge you for it can be healing too."
A bitter laugh, "They should judge me for it. The hospital I burned. Some people tried to throw infants to safety." She had been so deeply into the persona she had to be for the Red Room, she hadn't, couldn't think about the details of what she had done, before this.
Talking with Clint had made her remember the period in her life that had been before training, when she had parents who loved her. When she had been taught right from wrong and had been punished for doing the wrong thing, instead of vice-versa. That person was still inside her, she had just kept her very well caged. If she hadn't, she would have killed herself long ago with all she had endured. But now she had to let that person back out if she wanted to survive outside of the Red Room.
He didn't try and say it wasn't her fault, because that wouldn't change anything, and in the end, she had done the deed and would have to live with it. "I'm sorry, Natalia." Sorry that she had to do it back then, sorry she had to remember it so clearly, sorry that he was making her feel guilt again, when she had so neatly turned that emotion off so long ago.
She squeezed his hand in response. "I'm going to have to get through this. Ride it out and get the poison out." A pause as she thought about her next words, "I want to feel this pain. I need to."
"That's not always healthy. You keep picking at a wound and it will fester," he said in response.
"But if a wound is filled with debris and infection, you have to clean it out before it will heal," she countered.
They both ended up smiling at the debate over wounds in the dim light given by the moon, before her expression turned serious again. "Can you do me a favor though, Clint?" He nodded and waited for her to continue. "Can you please stop calling me Natalia?"
He nodded cautiously. "Ok, what would you like me to call you?"
"My parents called me Natasha. I'm trying to find the person they started to build. I don't want to be Natalia. I hate hearing you say that name. It's what the Red Room called me." She wandered verbally, still not good with any sort of emotional discussion. "I want to be Natasha, not Natalia. I need to be someone apart from Natalia..."
He cut her off as she continued struggling to find how to say what she wanted. "I understand. Natasha." He squeezed her hand one more time before letting it go. "Try and get some more sleep, ok?" Internally he was thinking that maybe she was safe enough to be presented to SHIELD.
Natasha looked at him hesitantly, knowing her record with physical contact and the man in front of her wasn't great. "Would you mind staying over here with me?" Before he could answer, she quickly amended, "Like when we met. Just be there." She wouldn't look at him when she asked, having already turned away.
Clint didn't let the worry show on his face, but this vulnerability that she was showing was either a great act or real. Either one meant big trouble. If it was fake, she was leading him along and meant to kill him. If it was real – all the more concerning. The Black Widow didn't show vulnerability like this. If she was truly starting to come out of the persona and character she played for the Red Room, she might not be able to live with the guilt and try and kill them both.
These thoughts flashed through his head in an instant and he spoke while barely missing a beat, "Of course." He slid onto the mattress behind her, placing his arms around her, being careful where his hands rested. He didn't want to give her mixed signals about that.
He didn't sleep while he held her, still facing away from him. He could feel the taut nature of her muscles and the shudders from the tears. And he could feel when the tears finally stopped and she started to relax, finally drifting off to sleep. When she would start to whimper or twitch, he would whisper in her ear that she was safe in Poland, with him.
At least there were no more screams that night.