turns out I had posted chapter 11 twice so here it is again!
Clint felt himself being lifted back into consciousness. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to give away the fact that he was awake. He heard ragged breathing in front of him and instantly remembered the breathing pattern.
"Natasha?" He croaked, throat raw from the recent lack of oxygen, and opened his eyes. Natasha sat in front of him chained to a chair, still unconscious. "Natasha!" Clint tried to move towards her but found that he was chained up to the wall, arms and legs splayed wide almost like a starfish. He was completely helpless.
"Natasha." Clint hissed, trying to avoid the attention of the guards who were probably posted outside. "Natasha."
Oh come on, he thought, wake up! He urged her in his head.
Clint heard a small click and cursed under his breath before looking up and glaring straight into the eyes of the guard who came in. Only he wasn't a guard, he wasn't even a he but a tall slender woman in a tight fitting dark suit with weapons and torture elements hanging off a black belt. Her eyes were shaded by dark makeup and her lips were red as blood, she looked beautiful but that couldn't be good. Why was she here? Who was she?
"Who are you?" Clint growled, masking his wariness expertly.
The woman walked over to Natasha and smiled looking up at Clint.
"My name is Marzia", the women purred seductively in a heavy Russian accent, leaning over the chair before making her way around.
"Who are you?" He repeated trying not to sound I intimidated by her as she slowly walked towards him
"HYDRAs previous attempts to..." Marzia paused for a moment as if considering what she was going to say "persuade you to give us your names, were unfruitful."
She was directly if front of Clint now, grinning manipulatively, she looked dazzlingly beautiful, Clint noted, despite the grim grittiness of the cell around them.
"HYDRA hired me to get you to talk" Marzia's eyes lit up with a fiery glow as she leaned foreword to whisper in his ear, "and believe me, I will do my upmost to follow through."
She stepped back from Clint and smiled, turning away from him and taking something out of a pocket in a way that ensured he couldn't see.
He heard the scraping of a lid being removed from a bottle.
Then there was silence.
Suddenly Marzia whipped around and jabbed something in his neck. Clint cried out as the syringe secreted it's contents. The liquid felt hot, scorching hot like hundreds of tiny white hot needles were stabbing at his neck.
"Do you like it?" Marzia asked a grin snaking it's way across her lips, "it's a truth serum of my own invention. Soon I will know not only your names, but all of SHIELDs dirty little secrets too"
The pain flowing through his blood was blinding and Clint found himself shutting his eyes tight and turning his head away from where the syringe was still sticking into his neck.
"Now," Marzia continued in a sort of lazy tone, "what are your names?"
Clint didn't speak, refusing to comply with her, but he was now gasping from the searing liquid pumping through his veins.
He vaguely felt a hand grasping his jaw and turning his head to face forward. Clint forced his eyes open to glare at her hatefully but she only regarded him thoughtfully and with a little amusement.
She smiled sadistically, "good" she said, "cooperation would have been boring. Now I get to have my fun!" Marzia swiftly turned around to face Natasha still unconscious tied to the chair, head drooping slightly.
Natasha looked so innocent, so vulnerable, tied up. She was beautiful, Clint realised suddenly through his pain mangled vision. He dismissed the thought none the less, emotional attachment was dangerous and could get them both killed.
Marzia strolled over to Natasha's side and looked up at Clint as she drew a long sharp knife from her belt. Clint watched helplessly as Marzia placed the knife, blade flat, on Natasha's skinned arm.
Clint was abruptly aware that he was struggling madly in his shackles. He wanted to call out to Natasha, wanted to throw any swear and curse he could think of at Marzia but if he said anything, the truth serum would take over and he would spill everything.
No! NO! Stop it you-, Clint thoughts were cut off by a shrill cry from the suddenly, very much conscious, Natasha.
Marzia had pressed the flat blade down on Natasha's arm and blood was beginning to flow down Natasha's arm.
Why was Natasha reacting so... severely?
As if in answer to his question, "poison blade" she grinned, pressing harder on the blade, drawing more cries from Natasha.
Natasha!... Clint paused his thoughts for a moment, Natasha Romi- no NO! Don't even think it.
He wasn't going to surrender to Marzia. He had to keep fighting, if not for himself then for Natasha. Natasha Ro- SHUT UP!
Before Clint realised what was happening Marzia had filled her wrist and the poison blade sliced through the remainder of Natasha's skin.
Natasha screamed and tried to pull away from the blade but the chains held her helpless.
Clint wanted so badly to call out to her, to let her know he was there, to offer at least some comfort, even offer himself in the place of Natasha. He had even taken a breath to say something, anything but he stopped himself, no, he wasn't playing her game.
Adrenaline was now mixing with the truth serum still searing through his veins. He had to stop this, Natasha didn't deserve to have to go through with this.
Clint closed his eyes, breathing heavily, to try to clear his head. But it wouldn't work, there were room many thoughts pouring into his head, thoughts that he couldn't put a voice to.
"Just tell me your names and it will all stop" Marzia cooed.
Clint tried to concentrate but Marzia's words echo around in his head. He could turn them both in and surrender to all HYDRAs terms or he could stay silent and watch Natasha slowly die. And if Natasha's death didn't kill him on it's own then HYDRA would turn to torturing him and eventually kill him.
Telling was the easy option. Staying silent would bring only pain and eventually death. He could...
No! He wasn't giving in. He would fight till his last breath.