BAM! New chapter! How awesome am I? Read and enjoy my dears.

You brought me back

into the light

So that I could see

What was in

the dark

The sunrise over the Atlantic ocean would have been breath-takingly beautiful, had it not been for the fuming Russian behind Barton. Between attempts to free herself from her chains, Natasha spewed endless insults and profanities in Russian. Barton would have normally found this comical, but given the fact that Natasha was still under Razin's control, despite the great number miles between them and Razin, terrified Barton.

As the hours passed by, Natasha would slip into brief silences, followed by exhausting, long, raging struggles. As the D.C. skyline came into view, Natasha became eerily silent. Barton paced the cabin nervously. When they landed, they were met by almost every agent that happened to be on base. Before leaving the plane, Barton began the process of undoing Natasha's restraints, a process that had to be done quickly, but with extreme care. The chains fell away, and for one brief moment, she was completely free. The blank look in her eyes disappeared, and Barton fleetingly hoped that the connection had broken, but the look passed as quickly as it had appeared, and Barton bound her wrists with thick, solid steel handcuffs. As he led her out of the plane, the rest of the crew members surrounded them, bristling with various weapons. The atmosphere was tense once they were on the tarmac, Barton shoving his way through the crowd of agents, whose guns were carefully trained on the back of Natasha's head.

They were nearly ten feet from the door when she made her move. She launched herself forward and flung her bound wrists around Barton's neck, drawing him in towards her body. Her eyes met his, cold, cruel, lifeless. Her lips curved up in a mocking smile. She flipped backward, pulling Barton with her. He landed in a heap on the ground, his vision blurry. He feebly reached for his gun, only to find both holsters empty. He lifted his head a few inches off the ground, and faced a scene of pure carnage. Natasha was shooting her way through the guard, making her way back to the jet. The handcuffs did little to slow her down, in fact, the impenetrable steel acted as a shield for stray bullets. Bodies fell to the ground around him, blood oozing from gaping wounds. She was becoming what she had been built for; she was a mindless killing machine, merciless, a puppet acting out the demented fantasies of a deranged madman. He watched her with fading vision, she took out two more soldiers, evaded an attack from one, and was in the middle of a graceful leap into the cockpit when she was tackled to the ground by a flying black blur.

Coulson, with one arm pinning Natasha to the ground, pulled out a small vial and syringe. Natasha wheezed as she attempted to bring air back into her lungs, but Couslon had already emptied the contents of the vial into the chamber of the syringe, stuck the needle into the base of her neck, and pushed the plunger down by the time she was able to throw his arm off her. She stood, staggered a few steps, shook her head, fighting off the effects of the drug. She made it a few more steps, fell, struggled to get up, and then fell again, staying down this time. Coulson heaved her to her feet, and carried her off towards the medical bay.

The other agents looked sickened as they tried vainly to revive the dead. A low moan to his right caught Barton's attention, and he sat up, ignoring the black spots that threatened to take over his vision. He dragged himself in the direction that he had heard the sound. He found a new recruit laying face-up, clutching his stomach, his eyes scrunched up in pain. Barton gently peeled back the trembling fingers of the recruit. The bullet seemed to have only clipped the boy, the casing embedded in the ground beneath him .The Black Widow never misses. So why wasn't this one dead, like the others. It almost seems like...Barton dismissed his thought as he turned to allow the doctors to take away the recruit. But as he limped towards the towering building, the thought continued to bombard him. It almost seems like she tried to stop herself from killing him. Like a small part of her managed to take control for a second.

Natasha woke strapped down in top-security hospital room. Half of her brain told her she needed to escape, go back to Razin; the other half of her brain, which seemed to be more foggy, told her to stay. She struggled halfheartedly against the restraints, but soon collapsed, the darkness once again taking over, binding her in an oppressing embrace. Before she submitted to sleep, she remembered hearing the rumble of voices outside her door and the smell of blood and cleaning products.

Awake again. Bright lights. Different room.

Sleeping.

Awake.

Sleeping.

Awake. Louder voices.

Sleeping.

Awake. Vision blurry.

Sleeping.

Awake. This time, something was different. She was back in her old room, but the was a group of chairs shoved in the corner. Coulson was reading, Fury was flipping through a pile of reports, and Barton was curled up on his side, sleeping. Natasha gingerly pushed herself into a sitting position, her muscles stiff and sore. Her brain felt clean, and light, and she realized that for the first time in weeks, she wasn't drugged, or being tortured, or brainwashed.

"Is it gone?" She rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"We managed to remove the chip, yes, we're going to have to wait and see if it did any serious, permanent damage." replied Couslon quickly.

Natasha leaned back against her pillows, her stomach churning. Memories were clicking back into place.

"Who did I-"

"Anything that you may have, or may have not done when that chip was in you, is not your fault, Agent Romanoff." Furry interrupted, staring intently at her.

Natasha turned toward the widow, her jaw clenched. After a while, she heard Coulson and Fury leave, and she slumped back onto the pillows. She ran a grimy hand through her even more grimy hair, and tried to decide what she wanted to do more: cry, vomit, or kill herself. Crying was a ridiculous notion, vomiting was, she pursed her lips, gross. And she was too damn tired to kill herself. So she settled for staring vacantly at the ceiling fan.

Doctors came in from time to time, checking her vitals, before slipping out again. After a dinner of a tablespoon of applesauce and a sip of water, Barton finally woke up.

"When did you wake up?" He yawned.

"Early afternoon." She replied.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm...fine."

Barton rolled his eyes "Yeah. Sure. You just spent three weeks being intensively tortured and brainwashed. It'd be completely unnatural if you were anything but fine."

Natasha closed her eyes. "Barton, I'm fine. Just tired."

Barton shook his head, got up, and headed towards the door.

"Um..Barton?" Natasha spoke quietly into the sheets. "Can you bring some of my books up here?"

Barton returned a few minutes later, his arms full of books. He set them down heavily on the table next to Natasha's bed and collapsed in his chair again. She brightened at the sight of her books, picked up the first one, and began reading.

"I didn't know..which one..you wanted...so I brought..them all..so..heavy Romanoff...so..heavy."

"Thanks." She said absentmindedly, turning the page. The book wobbled in her hands, and then slipped through them.

"Here, I'll read to you, the longer I stay up here, the longer I get to put off the shit-ton of paperork I have to catch up on." He picked up the book, opened it, and began reading. He has barely begun when he looked over the top of the book, and saw Natasha curled up in a tight ball, fast asleep.

Hope you enjoyed my lovelies, I'll update soon...yada yada yada...you know what to do; comment, comment, comment! Hope you're all safe and happy lovelies.