Chapter 7: Secrets we keep and lies that we tell
A/N: Wow, I managed to make this chapter a little longer.
Anyways, a biiiiiig thank you to Radwoman, Novrier, Andrewthegreat1 and Dark Universe for reviewing the previous chapter, and a big thank you to all that placed my story on their 'story alerts' or 'favorite' list.
And thanks to those who just read it, too.
You all guys rock! ;)
Also a little warning: some characters might seem a little OOC. I mean, I don't mind it, but if you find them slightly OOC, I apologize. Still, I think I have a strong reason to make them like that :)
I never thought that I'd start liking this whole 'journal' thing but with time I found myself writing about the things I couldn't say out loud.
It was easier to put it all on a paper that would never see another person but me, than to talk to someone who can tell my secrets to others, on purpose or by accident.
Because you know, people do that.
People aim to hurt you with the things they know.
They gather information from others, and sometimes even from you as they trick you with kind words and fake smiles.
And every information they got on you is safely stored in their brain, waiting for an opportunity. A perfect moment when they can strike a low blow and kick you while you're down.
That's why I stopped trusting.
Better safe than sorry, right?
I mean, it was always easier for me to be alone than to have someone who can stab you in the back when you turn around.
And I was fine like that for a while, I really was.
But then, without noticing when it happened, someone found a way around my walls. Their mighty structure apparently had a leak because before I knew it, I had a friend.
… Maybe a word 'friend' is too strong, but I know that somehow, I found myself caring.
And to tell you the truth, it was frightening.
Bruce Banner.
How desperate are you that you would call upon such lost creatures to defend you?
She squirmed at the emotionless voice that filled the space, whispering right into her ear as the hot breath danced on her skin, making her shiver slightly. The darkness around her was thick, but the sounds coming from it were... unnatural and wild.
You would trade a whole planet for the life of one person? What does he owe you?
The wind hit her, sending the scent of blood into her face. She could feel the awful taste on her tongue as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat...
It tasted like Death.
Can you? Can you get out that much red? Vanko, Turenov, Romanoff. Barton told me everything...
The tears that she tried to keep at bay were slowly fighting her control as the voice continued, the evil amusement clear in it.
All her secrets, all the painful things she tried to get away from... they were so close to being revealed to the world, to others.
She can't take it.
Knowing that with one word he can show everything she tried to bury away, that he can bring back the horrors she tried to forget... it was too much.
The fear, the bittersweet fear raised in her chest, creating a strong grip around her heart and making her every heartbeat painful and loud.
She could hear them in her head, along with her shallow breathing.
Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red, and you think saving a man no less virtuous than yourself will change anything?!
How dare he say that about Clint?!, she thought. The fear was now being mixed with anger, the hot, boiling rage that came from the bottom of her heart, from that darkest part of her soul.
How dare he talk about Clint at all, after all he has done?!
But she knows that he doesn't care.
He has no conscious, he feels no guilt.
He is not a human being, after all.
A monster.
This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer... PATHETIC!
The shout sends her backwards, making her collapse on her knees from the impact. The raw power, in a form of shadows, was launched towards her and it wrapped itself around her wrists and ankles, tying her to that place, that very spot, so she can hear the rest of his words even though she wanted to run, to just get away from it.
You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horror.
It's not true, it's not true!, She repeated it over and over in her head, well aware of the burning tears that slid down her cheeks and chin and then fell into the darkness that never ended. The shadows gripped her tighter, moving slowly towards her elbows and knees, swallowing her limbs and making them disappear in all that blackness.
But they are a part of you, and they will never go away.
He was bringing it up again and again. Like a reminder, like a painful reminder that she wanted to burn and destroy, but she couldn't!
The shadows were now moving over her stomach, making a hole in it that grew and grew, eating her up slowly but surely.
I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you.
A sob that she wasn't aware of echoed through the dark, followed by a cackle so deep and evil that even the toughest assassins would break when hearing it.
He sounded so dark, and yet so familiar...
… Like pain.
Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear.
No... No, no, no, please... Someone, anyone...
And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work and when he screams... I'll split his skull.
Please, someone just HELP ME!
This is MY bargain, you mewling quim!
NO!
The scream escaped her lips as she jolted awake, her fists clenching the sheets so tightly, her knuckles completely white and complaining under the pressure. The drops of sweat slid down her neck and cheeks, soaking her shirt while her hair was completely stuck to her face and cheeks.
Her heart was racing faster than ever, and every heartbeat was echoing in her head, along with the shallow breaths she managed to breath in.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside her, its big, bright red numbers showing 06:00 in the morning.
Knowing that she won't be getting any more sleep either way, she swung her legs over the edge of her bed and let the cold surface underneath her feet shake off a small amount of tension she felt.
Her every limb screamed from pain. She was sore all over her body, as if she was running the whole night. But after the nightmare she just had, she would rather choose running over it any time a day.
She took off her shirt and threw it towards the small chair in the corner of the room and stepped into the huge bathroom, immediately heading towards the shower.
The second her skin came in contact with the ice-cold water, she could find herself breathing again.
Although the constant noise of the running water wasn't enough to keep her mind occupied, she still tried to push away the words from the dream.
Was it possible that the great Black Widow, the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top agent and best assassin, was finally sent over the edge?
No, not possible.
She shook her head at her silly thoughts and turned off the water, just to find the same iron grip around her heart and lungs, making every breath painful.
She somehow stumbled to the sink and griping its edges, she looked up into her reflection.
The wet hair that was stuck to her skin, the drops of water traveling down her back, the pale, smooth skin of her face, the empty, haunted eyes...
"Natasha, you up?" The strong knocking on the door snapped her out of the trance, making her jolt and knock over a small bottle of perfume towards the bathroom floor, making the whole contest spill onto the tiles.
She cursed under her breath and quickly exited the bathroom, snatching the bathrobe from the chair and wrapping it around herself before answering the door.
"What do you want?" She snapped almost immediately as she opened the door, catching the intruder as he was about to knock on her door again, probably with even more force.
"Why so ang-... Hey, do you have anything underneath that robe?"
"Clint, I swear to God, this better be good or I'll kill you with my bare hands." Her eyes narrowed as she followed his eyes that traveled all over her body until it settled onto her eyes with a sheepish look in them.
"Sorry. What was I supposed to tell you... Oh yeah! Fury called, said that we should be ready in an hour, he's sending us to some conference or something."
"What conference?" She asked, this time her voice slightly softer as she let him in and headed for the bathroom with her clothes in her hand. From the corner of her eye she could see Clint finding a place on her bad and placing himself there, while observing the surrounding and various things in the room.
"Have no idea. He said it's a press conference, and he called all the Avengers so I assume that it has something to do with the whole 'alien invasion'. I overheard that the press and the President are unsure of what to think about us, are we good or bad, and the best thing to do now is to set it all clear, I guess." She listened to his voice as she slipped into the casual clothes, the faded jeans and some shirt, with a leather jacket over it and the high combat boots.
Sparing only a second to look over her reflection in the mirror, she emerged from the bathroom and slipping her gun into its holster, hiding it from the curious glares, and she finally turned around to face Clint properly.
"So we all have to go? Even Hulk.. I mean, Bruce?"
"Yep. The rest of the team is in the kitchen, having their breakfast. I'll save you some pancakes if you want...?"
At her nod he got up in a flash and disappeared behind the corner, leaving her alone with her thoughts for a moment or two.
Natasha glanced around the room, the coldness off its walls reminding her of her dream. The shiver that traveled through her body shook her to the core as a shallow breath escaped her lips.
The words, so fresh in her mind, played over and over, never letting the fear go away.
You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers...
Can you get out that much red?!
Your ledger is dripping, it's gushing red!
"Agent Romanoff, agent Barton said, quote, 'Get your ass down here, Nat!'. He sounded really impatient." Jarvis said, in his usual accent, yet a dose of desperation and tiredness could be heard if you listen closely.
But, his words were enough to snap Natasha out of the state she was. It seemed like she couldn't shake off the venomous words.
"Thank you Jarvis, I'll be right there."
"Very well, I shall inform agent Barton before he decides to visit you again."
And with that, Natasha Romanoff left the room, but not without the words, so filled with venom and hate, echoing in her mind.
An hour later and the team was set and ready to go. Tony, being the generous self, offered his cars, and after a few minutes of arguing which car will be driven by who, three cars left the Stark Tower towards their destination.
It wasn't long after that the cars stopped in front of a huge building, and for the first time that day the Avengers could see the seriousness of the situation.
Thousands of press, fans and other people gathered around the entrance of the building, huge signs all over the place, covering every flat surface on the façade.
The words of encouragement and gratitude, but also the angry accusings, filled with rage and pain, it all flashed in front of Natasha's eyes, along with the flashlights of the impatient reporters and their cameras.
"No one mentioned that there will be this much people. Hulk hates crowds, this won't end well." The timid voice of Bruce Banner echoed thought the car for the first time since they left the Tower, making his two passengers turn around to look at him.
"Don't worry Big Guy, we are here with you. Nothing will happen, right 'Tasha?" Clint answered, his hand rubbing Bruce's shoulder as his eyes rested on hers, begging her to confirm his words.
She can't deny that the careless touch hurt her a little, but as a true assassin, she never showed it.
"Yes. Everything will be fine, Doc."
"... Why did I ever agree with this?"
"Because you love it! Now let's go!" Clint yelled, a little to enthusiastically, and opened the door.
The chaos began.
"Mr. Barton, are you the 'Hawkeye'?"
"Mrs. Romanoff, is it true that you are the famous 'Black Widow'?"
"Doctor Banner, how did you get yourself into the Avengers thing?"
The journalist didn't give them a second to regain their balance as they exited the cars, but instead decided to attack them as soon as possible. The endless amount of questions was being thrown at them and even though they intended to stay together, soon they were surrounded by a crowd of people and in the end they got separated.
Seeing that there was no other way through the crowd than to answer the questions and push through a little at a time, Natasha braced herself and started answering the questions one by one, hoping for it to end soon, without incidents.
Unfortunately, life had some other plans.
A little time passed.
Only ten minutes later, Natasha managed to push her way through the crowd and to the entrance, and just as she was about to yank the doors open and step into the cold, empty hallway, a shout, coming from behind her, made her freeze in her tracks.
"Miss Romanoff, do you regret killing all those people?" The question only sounded casual but Natasha heard the evil glint in it, as if daring her to answer, taunting her to make a mistake.
Her immediate instinct was to run. Her muscles started flexing, her fists clenched, but she tried her best not to let the instinct take over.
Yet, she failed to remove all the emotions out of her voice.
"What do you mean?" She noticed the silence around her and how all the journalists seemed to be more interested into this particular question than the other ones that they've been asking for the past fifteen minutes, but her eyes were concentrated on the brown-haired press who smirked evilly at her.
"Well, my resources informed me about the amount of missions you did and I know that at each mission there has to be a target. So how do you feel about it? How do you sleep at night?"
"I don't think it's important for this interview-..."
"But it is. Because the next question would be how could the Avengers have a member of their team who killed that many people as you did, when they are supposed to be the good guys? It doesn't sound logical, right?" The press advanced forwards, the malicious grin growing on his face as he watched the color drain from her face.
Her body froze completely. Her hands clenched even harder, her knuckles going completely white, but this time her eyes betrayed a small part of fear she felt.
The questions from her dream came back as a flashback, and soon everything in front of her disappeared in a blur, and she found herself in the dark again.
You lie and kill...
"Natasha...?"
...how could the Avengers have someone who killed that many people on their team...
"Agent Romanoff?"
You pretend to be separate, to have your own code... But they are a part of you, and they will never go away.
"Natasha!" A hand on her shoulder made her wince and with a gasp her eyes widened and she was back to reality.
She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room that she found herself in.
She had no idea how she got into the building but she was grateful to whomever took her there.
That thought reminded her off the light pressure on her shoulder and she looked up only to find a pair of warm brown eyes staring at her with light, but still a worry she wasn't used to.
"Are you okay?" His tone was light and stained with worry, but she couldn't ignore the faint green on his hands and neck.
"Um, yeah, I'm... fine." It took her a few seconds to find her voice and regain her posture, the cold mask slipping onto her face all too easy.
After all, she had years of practice.
"Okay, if you say so. Just, let me know if you don't feel well.. Um, if you want, of course." Bruce stammered the sentence and released her shoulder as a ginger woman approached him and asked them to follow her to the room next door.
Natasha released a breath she was holding in, happy that Bruce didn't press any further. She was glad that he understood that she doesn't want to talk about it, and she was genuinely touched by the worry he showed. They weren't even friends, and he noticed the distress she felt.
She followed Bruce and the over excited woman as they passed through the hallway and the huge doors.
When they entered the room, she realized that the others were already there and her eyes immediately fell onto Clint.
Clint, who didn't even notice her.
Jealousy and anger ignited in her, and even though she knew how to control them, at that very moment, she couldn't help it.
Seeing him so happy, talking to a bunch of screaming fan girls was too much for her after the incident that happened only a few minutes ago or the dream she had that night.
It burnt her that he didn't even notice her discomfort and that he didn't pay attention to her at all, even though they did everything together.
All the times he ignored her and all the canceled meetings flashed in her mind, and the anger and jealousy turned into the agonizing pain.
He didn't care.
He moved on.
He didn't need her anymore.
Her inner battle was interrupted by a feminine voice and the conference began.
Everyone slipped into their roles, and so did she, and no one noticed anything.
No one noticed the slight glittering of her eyes and the redness in her cheeks.
No one noticed her breaking.
That night, a figure left the Stark Tower around two a.m., a backpack on her back and all her prized possessions with her.
Her step was firm, determined, but her breathing was ragged, her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were shining from tears under the moonlight.
But she kept walking, not turning back.
She walked away, never to return again.
A/N: A short question: do you want me to make this into a light ClintXNatasha (like, a background couple) or should I show the relationship between them as a strong friendship? Opinions are appreciated! :D