CW (there's a lot): Aftermath of rape and torture, victim-blaming and slut-shaming (self-directed), vulgar language, murder.
It took less than an hour for Clint to make his way to the building Natasha was being held in. He ditched the bike in the woods a mile or so back and continued the rest of the way on foot. He took stock of what he had to work with as he walked, mostly so he wouldn't have to think about what might be happening to his partner in the building ahead. He had his bow and a full quiver, including his full suite of specialty arrows. He had several knives stashed in various places, as well as May's sword strapped to his back next to his primary quiver. He had decided to bring Nat's guns with him too. He would have extra firepower if stealth failed that way, and he figured she'd be glad to have them when he found her. He had also brought her clothes with him. It was freezing out and she'd need them.
When the building came into sight Clint thanked his luck. They had decided inconspicuous was preferable to well-defended and hadn't posted guards. He started to worry for a second until he checked the satellite image again and counted over twenty heat signatures inside. He stood back in the tree line where he knew he couldn't be seen from the building and went over his options. Coulson and May were at least twenty minutes behind him, so he couldn't count on their help in the initial entry because there was no way he was waiting even a minute longer than he had to.
His anger was distracting him and he paused for a minute to get it under control. He was furious at the people who had taken Nat, but there was a good amount of that anger that was directed at himself too. She wasn't ready for the field yet and he knew it, but he still vouched for her to Coulson and Fury anyway because he wanted to show her that he trusted and believed in her in a tangible way. It was her first goddamn mission and he had allowed the very thing she was most afraid of to happen. Some partner he was if she couldn't even count on him to have her back when it mattered.
When he squashed his feelings enough to focus again he examined the building. There was the main entrance, a set of double doors recessed into the wall a bit. There were also a few other doors he could see from here that he also dismissed as entry points. He needed to get in quietly and take out as many of their men as possible before they knew he was there. An open firefight was not in his best interest at the moment. He scanned the top of the building and noticed a window left half open. He considered his options briefly and made his decision, he'd enter through that window and work his way down. He had to be quiet about it and not let them know he was there. The longer he could go before he was detected, the better.
Clint readied himself and pulled out the last item he had with him. It was an experimental compact grapple launcher. They had brought it with them with the intent to let Nat practice with it in a live scenario. With her skillset favoring being up close he and Coulson had figured having another way to get into buildings would be useful for her. He fired it up to his chosen entry point and let the small electric motor pull him up the side of the building.
There were four men on the top floor patrolling lackadaisically. They were just going through the motions, and seemed pretty secure in the knowledge that they wouldn't be found. For all their planning the Red Room agents were missing a key piece of intel. They'd underestimated just how many resources SHIELD had for finding people, and didn't expect to be tracked down this quickly. It was understandable, not many organizations had the ability to tap into any satellite they wanted at will and they didn't advertise that they could.
Clint waited until one of them passed by the room he was hiding in and pulled him in with a garrote around his throat. Normally he would just choke the guy unconscious and leave him there, but these men had signed their death warrant the second they had taken Natasha. His first victim was taking too long to die so Clint finally pulled out a knife and slit his throat.
The second man took an arrow to the throat before he even realized he was in danger and hit the floor with a thud. Clint winced a little and hoped no one had heard that. They were going to figure out he was there eventually, but he wanted to delay that as long as possible.
The last two on this floor were in a conversation and didn't notice Clint slinking up through the shadows behind them. He decided to listen in for a moment to see if he could get any additional intel. They were speaking Russian, so Clint didn't catch everything they were saying. His Russian wasn't that great so a little of the context was missing. He listened until one of them mentioned looking forward to the end of his shift so he could have another turn with the redhead downstairs. Upon hearing that Clint felt an urge to charge them screaming in rage, but his discipline stopped him. He quietly drew the sword he'd borrowed from May and crept a little closer. An arrow would have been faster, but he felt the need to kill this one up close. The two men continued their conversation oblivious to his presence. The first clue they had that anyone was there was when the tip of Clint's blade sprouted from one guy's chest. He took advantage of the other guy's brief moment of shock and kicked the corpse off his sword right into him. He swept the edge across his throat before he could do more than grab for his gun.
Now that his fear of what Natasha was being put through had been confirmed Clint moved with more urgency. Every minute he wasted was another minute they could spend brutalizing her, and he refused to accept that.
He worked his way through the third floor silently killing anyone he encountered. There were six on this floor. He took out four with arrows and two with his blade. So far, so good. He had eliminated nearly half the men in this building and none of them had managed to get a shot off that would have announced his presence. He knew that couldn't last forever though. There were fewer hiding places on the lower floors, and he knew he'd find himself in a running firefight before it was over. He collapsed his bow and hooked it to the quiver over his shoulder, before pulling out one of Natasha's pistols and screwing the suppressor he'd brought with him to it. He felt it was appropriate to use her gun to kill at least a few of these guys. She couldn't do it herself at the moment, so he'd do it for her.
The more he thought about why he was here the more Clint seethed. If he had been right behind Nat in that warehouse instead of briefly pausing to collect his arrows this wouldn't have happened to her. Or at least she wouldn't have been alone when they found her.
I'm so sorry, Nat. he thought, angry at himself all over again, If I'd been with you this wouldn't be happening to you. I should have been there. I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise.
Clint consulted the satellite image again and sighed when he realized stealth was going to be nearly impossible from this point forward. The only stairwell to the next floor down was guarded and he probably wouldn't be able to use it without being spotted. He pondered his options for a moment and a smirk formed on his lips when he glanced over and saw a vent opening large enough for him to fit in. Making his way through the vents was easy enough, and he quickly found an empty room on the floor below he could let himself into. He waited near the door until a group of five men walked past and silently stepped out behind them.
Three suppressed pistol shots and two sword strokes later they were all down. Only the last two had even realized there was a threat before they died. Clint looked at his handiwork and realized he was getting close to somewhere he didn't want to be mentally. He had decapitated the last guy and hadn't really intended to. He had to be careful not to lose himself trying to save Natasha.
He remembered the sad, resigned look on Coulson's face when he'd asked to borrow May's sword, and he could imagine his expression when he told him to change his callsign for this op. It was more of a declaration of intent than anything else, informing his handler that he'd be taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors. He'd only had to do that a handful of times since he joined SHIELD, and Ronin's identity was classified. Only a few people knew that Ronin and Hawkeye were actually the same person. The only real difference in their methods was that Hawkeye would aim to incapacitate instead of kill whenever possible, while Ronin was a relentless killer that piled up corpses like firewood.
The fact that he hadn't even attempted to talk Clint out of it this time told him how angry Coulson was that his newest charge had been captured, he was usually far more reluctant to let Clint go down this path. He knew Coulson would take responsibility for it if he lost his humanity in the process. It spoke volumes that he was willing to accept that possibility if it got Natasha out alive.
He had no idea what May thought about all of it, but he was pretty sure she'd trust him even less if she saw the mess he was leaving in his wake. Clint shook himself out of his brief reverie and moved on. The corpses in the hallway would be found soon and he needed to be elsewhere when that happened.
The firefight Clint was trying to avoid kicked off when he burst through a door into a room that had seven men in it. They were eating at the time and Clint only managed to kill two before the rest took cover and started shooting at him. He took three bullets in return before he could get out of the line of fire. Two of them hit the chest plate of his body armor and he knew the bruised ribs were going to hurt like hell once the adrenaline wore off. The third punched a hole through his right tricep as he dove out of the way. He glanced at it quickly and was relieved to see an exit wound, the bullet had passed through and wouldn't be impeding his arm's movement. It also meant using his bow would suck right now, he needed that muscle to steady his aim.
Clint took out two more men with Natasha's pistol before switching it to his right hand. With the gunshot wound in his arm it would make using the sword more difficult. Good thing he was left-handed anyway. He worked his way from cover to cover trying to flank them. It worked and he came out to the side of two of them and dispatched them with a bullet each to the head. The last guy apparently had the worst luck in the world. When he turned to fire at Clint his gun jammed, and before he could do anything about it he had three feet of steel piercing his heart.
Clint bailed from the room as soon as the last man was dead and sprinted down the hall. After a few moments he noted the lack of pursuit and ducked into another room to hide. He was surprised to see that the room was occupied.
There was a dark-haired man with a goatee sitting behind a desk on the phone, speaking in frantic Russian. Probably calling backup, Clint deduced. He didn't seem to be armed and Clint got the distinct impression that this guy was who was ultimately responsible for Natasha's capture.
Clint trained the gun directly between the guy's eyes and motioned for him to come out from behind the desk.
"Hello, Hawkeye." he said, "Your reputation precedes you. I must admit, I didn't expect you to be so...ruthless. It's impressive. My name is Viktor, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"I don't give a shit what your name is." Clint replied harshly.
"How rude." Viktor replied with a cold smile, "I assume you're here to reclaim your plaything. I don't know what you see in her, she's utterly useless now. You've ruined her."
"Tell me where she is and I'll kill you quickly." Clint promised.
"She's downstairs entertaining a few of my men." Viktor said with a sneer, "Do you want to hear how quickly she was begging for mercy? She broke in minutes and screamed for hours. Twenty two men all got to take a turn with her. They were not gentle. You can take her back if you like, but she is useless to you. She's nothing but a pitiful, broken whore now."
Clint stalked toward the man seething. He knew the asshole was trying to rattle him, but all he was succeeding at was pissing him off. He had an idea where Nat was now, so this guy had outlived his usefulness. As he got closer to him Viktor's smile widened as he had one last jab to get in before Clint killed him.
"Is your name Clint, by chance?" he asked pleasantly, with a nasty smile at odds with his tone "Natalia screamed for you for hours. She begged for you to come and save her over and over. It's pathetic how loyal she is to you. You ruined our widow for us...so in turn we ruined her for you. You see, the point was never to reclaim her, it was to make her a useless burden. You almost made her into a person, that will never happen now."
Clint had gotten angrier and angrier as Viktor spoke. He had planned on keeping his word to kill him quickly, but changed his mind. He took a quick step forward and sliced through Viktor's abdomen as deeply as possible, then stepped around him and kicked him as hard as he could in the small of the back. Viktor screamed in horror and agony when his intestines spilled out onto the floor. Clint took two more swipes to the back of his legs to hamstring him and paused for a moment before pulling an arrow out of his quiver and jamming it into his right lung so it would slowly fill with blood.
"What I said about killing you quickly?" Clint said with a vicious smile, "I lied. Die in agony, asshole."
Clint thought about it for a second and unscrewed the suppressor off Nat's pistol he'd been using. He made sure there was exactly one bullet in it and tossed it on the floor ten feet away from Viktor.
"If it gets unbearable, you can crawl over there and end it." he said angrily, "I'm giving you the way out you didn't give Natasha. Call it mercy, if you like."
Having said that, Clint stepped over Viktor and walked out of the room. He made a point of kicking the arrow in his chest as he passed. He got twenty feet down the hall before he heard the sound of a gunshot behind him.
Clint went down to the first floor and headed in the direction indicated. As he neared the last door at the end of the hall he saw two men step out of it and close it behind them. They hadn't spotted him yet. He noticed one of them buckling his belt, and briefly saw red. He was done with being subtle now, so he just walked forward businesslike and put a bullet in each of their heads. His attention was drawn to the wall next to the door where there was a cruel looking muzzle hanging from a hook. He gazed at it with a pained expression for a few seconds. Nat had told him how much wearing one of those made her panic. He briefly cursed he eyesight when he spotted the dried blood on the sharp spikes on its underside.
Clint paused for a few seconds outside the door. He knew this was going to be bad and had to brace himself for it. Finally, he opened the door and stepped through.
He knew it was going to be bad. He wasn't prepared for how bad it was. When he laid eyes on Nat his heart jumped into his throat and warred with the bile that had also gone there. She was huddled into the corner of a bare concrete room, mostly naked and shivering in the cold. Her face was turned toward the wall, so he could see the dozens of lacerations leaking half-coagulated blood across her back. She was mottled with bruises everywhere he could currently see and had dried blood crusted on her everywhere. Clint couldn't do anything other than stare horrified at what had been done to her for a few seconds.
Nat registered that someone had come in the room and half turned towards him. When she spoke his heart lurched. She sounded so completely hopeless and broken.
"Please, no more." Nat said despairingly. She had the tone of someone who knows that what they're saying isn't being listened to, "If you use my mouth I won't try to bite again. I promise. I'll be good."
When he heard that Clint's heart went from his throat straight to the bottom of his stomach. He came towards her slowly.
"Tasha?" he called softly, "It's me. It's Clint. I'm going to get you out of here and take you home."
Clint watched her carefully while he waited for what he was saying to sink in. He knew it might take a moment, because Natasha didn't seem to be very firmly connected with reality right now.
"Clint?" she finally croaked out somewhat disbelievingly, "You came. You heard me and you came."
Clint was just going to let that slide. It was impossible that he could have heard anything, but if believing that for the time being brought her some kind of comfort he wasn't going to say anything.
"Of course I came." he told her gently instead, "I'd never abandon you, it just took a while to find you."
Nat finally turned her face toward Clint and his heart nearly stopped when he saw it. Her left eye was almost swollen shut and she had a deepening purple bruise on her right cheek. Her nose was obviously broken and there was so much dried blood covering the bottom of her face he couldn't tell where it was coming from. Nat slumped back against the wall and whimpered when the cuts on her back came in contact with it. When she shifted Clint couldn't help but notice that the dried blood on her lower body was most heavily concentrated on her inner thighs. His stomach twisted at the sight and he clamped his mouth shut to swallow the bile that had started to come up. Nat's shivering had grown more pronounced and Clint realized that being naked in a freezing room suffering from blood loss probably had her in the beginning stages of hypothermia.
"Nat, I'm going to pick you up now, okay?" Clint said soothingly, "We need to get out of here and I don't think you should walk right now."
"Okay." she whispered.
Clint felt awful when it occurred to him that there was no way he could carry Natasha that wouldn't hurt her. He crouched down next to her and gently wrapped his arms around her upper back and under her knees.
"It's going to hurt when I pick you up." he told her softly, "I'm so sorry but I have to do it."
She nodded numbly and squeezed her eyes shut to brace herself for it. Clint picked her up as gently as he could, but she still let out a small cry as her own body weight put pressure on her mangled back. Once Nat was in his arms she curled into his body heat as much as she could and didn't move. He was a little shocked at how light she was, she had clearly lost a little weight but he wasn't going to worry about that right now. Clint couldn't help but jostle her a little as he walked and felt like shit with every quiet whimper she let out. He couldn't even imagine how much pain she was in. There didn't seem to be any part of her that wasn't injured in some way.
Clint suddenly thought of something that would help and braced her against him for a second. He pulled out Nat's other gun and handed it to her. She held it in a death grip close to her chest, grateful for the means to protect herself.
"Safety's on." he told her, "But it's loaded and cocked. Viktor killed himself with your other one."
"I didn't know his name." she admitted, "Why would he do that?"
"Because I gutted him, hamstrung him, and stuck an arrow in his lung." he told her truthfully, "Left him the choice of suicide or bleeding out slowly. Last I saw him he was trying to stuff his intestines back in."
"You were too nice." Nat told him flatly.
"I was pressed for time." Clint quipped back.
"What happened to the other men that ra...hurt me?" Nat whispered into Clint's shoulder after another minute.
"They're dead." he told her truthfully, "All of them."
"Did you kill them?" she asked.
"Yes, I did." he answered, "And I'd do it again."
"How many were there?" Nat asked him. Clint clocked her real reason for asking immediately. She didn't care how many men he had killed. She wanted to know how many men had raped her.
"I'm not telling you that, Tasha." he told her plainly, "Not right now at least. If you still want to know later I'll tell you. But we both know the real reason you're asking, and you know the answer to that question isn't going to do anything good for you right now."
Natasha sighed into his shirt and didn't argue. She knew he was right.
"I brought your clothes." Clint told her a few moments later as he ascended a staircase, "They're upstairs so I'm taking you up there so you can get dressed. Coulson and May should be here soon, they weren't far behind me."
"You came to get me and killed all those men...by yourself?" Nat asked in wonder. She happened to look up as they passed the five men he had killed in the hallway, "Why are they in pieces?"
"I got a little carried away." he answered with a straight face.
"They deserved worse." she informed him. After seeing how badly she had been brutalized, Clint was inclined to agree. He was walking much slower than normal to minimize how much Nat got jostled, but he still winced every time she let out a muffled whimper. Clint was trying to dismiss the irrational desire to resurrect all these men so he could kill them again, slower this time.
"Please don't tell anyone about...about how they..." Nat tried to say and trailed off.
Clint shushed her gently, "It's okay, you don't have to say it. I won't say anything. Can I ask why you don't want me to though?"
Nat sniffled and let out a small cry when it aggravated her broken nose.
"Because I don't want anyone else to know what a useless fucking cum dump I am!" she sobbed miserably, "It's bad enough that you know, but I can't do anything about that. If everyone knew how pathetic I am they'll hate me more than they already do."
"Hey, don't say that about yourself." Clint admonished gently, "That's not true at all."
"Yes it is." Nat spat out dejectedly, "I didn't even last five minutes before I broke. I would have told them anything to make it stop. Anything. But they didn't even ask any questions, they just hurt me in every way they could think of. And they were getting off on it. One guy didn't even fuck me, I'm pretty sure he blew his wad just from hitting me and hearing me scream."
"I'm so, so sorry, Tasha." Clint told her, "This never should have happened to you. It's on me. It's my fault. I should have been with you. Those arrows could have fucking waited."
Natasha was silent for a few moments, and Clint had the distinct feeling she was blaming him a little bit and just didn't want to say it. He felt like shit about it, but couldn't argue with being at least partly responsible.
"I'm a liability." Nat said despondently after a long silence, her voice growing more bitter as she talked, "I don't belong at SHIELD. They broke me so fast I'd spill anything they wanted to know right away. All I'm good for is fucking. And I'm not even good at that. At least I could take pride in something then, but I couldn't even make it through one without bawling like a worthless little slut. I was begging before they even did anything, Clint! I'm so fucking pathetic."
"Nat, you are so much more than that." he reassured her, trying in vain to stop the cycle of self-loathing she was falling into, "Don't believe anything that piece of shit told you. Please don't do that to yourself."
They finally reached the room where Clint had left her clothes and he set her down as gently as he could.
"Help me?" Nat asked him plaintively. He could see the humiliation in her eyes from being unable to do it for herself, "Could you take my bra off and burn it, please?"
"I don't have anything to burn it with, but I can get rid of it for you." Clint answered her as he carefully reached around to unhook the offending object. He brushed against one of her cuts and winced when she inhaled sharply, "Sorry."
Clint gingerly helped Nat get her clothes on, wincing and apologizing at every gasp and whimper she made when he aggravated one of her dozens of injuries. When Nat was dressed he picked her up again and started to head downstairs towards the front door. Coulson and May met them on the third floor.
"Clint!" Coulson exclaimed when he saw them, "is she okay?"
"No." he told him bluntly, "They hurt her really bad, Phil. I'm amazed she's even conscious."
"We brought the Quinjet." May informed him, looking around the space at the mess Clint had made with barely disguised disgust.
Clint lowered Natasha to her feet while continuing to support her so he could reach over his shoulder. He held May's sword out to her hilt first. She eyed it with poorly concealed distaste and said, "Keep it. I don't want it back. Or get rid of it, I don't care."
Clint met her eyes for a moment and saw in them what she wasn't saying. She didn't have to say it. She didn't trust him anymore. He dropped the sword on the floor without a word and left it there.
"I'm not proud of it." he admitted after a few seconds of May's scrutiny.
"This wasn't a SHIELD agent completing a mission, Clint." she told him disdainfully, "This was a slaughter. It looks more like a serial killer's rampage than a professional doing his job. Coulson was right, you do like it. I don't want that sword back, you've dishonored it. Hawkeye is a good agent, but Ronin is a psychopath with no place at SHIELD."
Clint didn't dispute what she was saying. He was feeling more than a little nauseated himself at seeing what he had done now that his head was clear. He had intended to dispatch them as quickly as possible, but looking around he saw that every body had three or four unnecessary slashes that he didn't remember doing. Clint didn't like admitting it, but May had a point. He had probably just destroyed any ability to work alongside her that he might have had. He met her eyes again and gave her a reluctant nod telling her he understood and didn't hold it against her.
Their exchange ended, Clint gingerly picked Natasha up again and saw Coulson and May both wince in sympathy when she let out a soft cry and spasmed a little at the renewed pressure on her back.
"How bad is it?" May asked him. Her newfound distaste for him didn't override her concern for Natasha.
"It's bad." he told her simply, "I couldn't tell you how many individual injuries she has. I'm not sure I can count that high."
May just nodded sadly in response. Nat would hate seeing the pity on her face if she was paying attention, but she had buried her face in his shoulder again and was stifling quiet sobs. She was trying so hard not to cry it hurt to watch, and the three of them tacitly agreed to pretend they didn't notice. It was beginning to sink in for Natasha what had been done to her and she was on the verge of a complete breakdown. Clint was hoping to at least get her to the Quinjet before that happened, but she was rapidly losing the fight and he wasn't sure he was going to make it. Coulson and May didn't say anything, they just kept watch with their guns drawn so Clint could focus on the tiny, brutalized redhead in his arms.
Natasha managed to make it to the Quinjet before her sobs started in earnest. Coulson had exercised some foresight and had sent the pilot back with the car so he wouldn't see the state Natasha was in, since May was a better pilot than him anyway. He had gotten the feeling that she'd be in bad shape and knew her well enough to know she wouldn't want people she didn't know seeing her like that. Clint settled into one of the seats with Natasha in his lap and stayed as still as he could so she could relax as much as possible. Before she walked to the cockpit May paused next to them and gave Clint a look that had a clear question in it. Clint gave her a sad nod and saw a pained expression cross her face. He lifted a finger to his lips in a 'shh' gesture and she gave him back a sad nod of her own. She wouldn't say anything.
On his way to the cockpit Coulson also paused next to them and gave Clint a long, level look.
"Good work getting her out of there." he said with a piercing gaze, "Are you gonna be okay?"
"I don't know yet." Clint answered honestly, "I'll let you know in a few days."
Coulson nodded, trusting that Clint would be honest with him. He nodded towards Clint's right arm, "You should have that looked at."
"Later, it's not that bad." he told him, nodding towards the redhead in his lap, "She's the priority. Could you grab me a cloth and a bottle of water?"
He didn't mention how bad his chest hurt from getting shot twice, but he knew his ribs would be black and blue tomorrow.
"Sure." Coulson said before grabbing the items and bringing them back.
He stood there quietly for a moment, "Take good care of her, Clint. She needs to know someone cares right now."
After Coulson walked away Clint opened the bottle of water and soaked the rag with it before handing it to Natasha. After she had taken a long drink Clint gently cleaned the blood off her face. The whole time he was doing so she had a thousand yard stare and barely seemed to register his presence. When her face was as clean as he could get it Clint grabbed the blanket Coulson had thoughtfully also brought him and wrapped it around both of them. He wanted to clean the rest of Nat's injuries as well, but she was still freezing and needed the warmth more than anything right now. None of her injuries were life threatening so they could wait an hour to be addressed.
When the Quinjet's engines started Natasha stopped fighting the tears and spent most of the flight wracked by ugly, heaving sobs. She was smearing bloody snot on Clint's shirt, but he didn't care. He just held her as tight as he dared and let her cry her heart out.
They decided to head to a different safehouse an hour away first to at least give Natasha some rudimentary treatment for her injuries. They arrived and Clint carried her in and went straight to the back bedroom. He set her down on the bed and it occurred to him he didn't know how this was going to work.
"We're going to have to get you cleaned up, and it's going to really suck." he told her, "I'm sorry. Do you want me to do it, or do you want May to?"
As he said that he glanced up to where May was standing in the doorway. She gave him a quick nod signifying that she would do it if Nat wanted her to.
"You do it." Nat said quietly, "I don't want them to see."
When May had left and closed the door behind her Clint looked at Natasha and asked, "Shower first?"
"Yes." she whispered back, "I feel so dirty in every possible way a person can. It'll be fastest."
Nat sat for a few moments with an embarrassed and frustrated expression on her face. Clint could see need warring with pride in her eyes and had a good idea what she didn't want to ask him.
"Do you want me to help you?" he asked her delicately.
Her face crumpled into pure humiliation. She closed her eyes and nodded, "Yes. I don't think I can stand on my own for more than a couple minutes. They beat the fuck out of me, Clint."
"I know." Clint sighed, standing to help her get up, "I'm so, so sorry, Nat. I should have been there. How did they take you?"
"From behind, mostly." she muttered bitterly, "One of them liked to use a knife while he fucked me."
Clint winced and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Not what I meant, Nat."
"I know." she said, "The last thing I remember before I was...there...was that Viktor guy stepping out in front of me and saying words I didn't recognize."
"Trigger words." Clint said, "Same thing happened the first day we met. Guy said something to you that put you into a stupor. You went completely blank for a minute."
"I don't remember that." Natasha admitted quietly, "If that happened a lot it would explain why I don't remember a whole lot out of the last few years.
Clint saw a pained expression appear on her face as a thought occurred to her, "How many times was I...used...and don't remember it?"
"Don't dwell on that, Nat." Clint warned her, "I'm going to be by your side through all of this. You want or need something, just ask."
"You still want to be around me?" she wondered. There was suddenly an edge to her tone he didn't quite like.
"Don't be stupid." Clint told her, "Of course I still want you around. Why wouldn't I?"
"Oh, I don't know." Natasha bit out, her words laced with bitter sarcasm and getting louder and more heated as she spoke, "Maybe because I'm weak and useless and you've had to fucking rescue me twice now?! Oh, and because I don't even know how many men turned me into a piece of helpless fuckmeat! I stopped fighting it after a few minutes and just let them do whatever they wanted! I let them fuck my mouth willingly because it was less painful than everything else they did. I acted like a complete fucking slut and sucked every cock that was put in front of me because I was hoping they'd hurt me less if I cooperated, but all they did was hurt me more! I'm damaged goods, Clint! No one is going to want me around if they find out how much of a pathetic fucking whore I am! I am so goddamned ashamed of myself and there's nothing I can do to fix it! And don't try to tell me you understand because you Never. Fucking. Will! How the fuck am I supposed to live with any of that?! TELL ME, CLINT! HOW?!"
When Natasha's self-loathing tirade ended with an anguished wail she just sat staring at Clint with a miserable expression and angry tears rolling down her face. Her anger had come out of nowhere and it seemed to surprise her too.
"I'm sorry." she said quietly, "I shouldn't take it out on the person who got me out of there. Can we get this shower done now? I feel disgusting."
Clint had a new appreciation for just how high Natasha's pain tolerance really was. She had to be in agony and had just been yelling at him as though nothing had happened. If it wasn't for the occasional gasp or stifled cry when she shifted and tweaked something you wouldn't even guess anything was wrong with her.
Clint helped her hobble into the attached bathroom and looked at her awkwardly when he realized how much help she was going to need. Nat clocked what he was feeling awkward about and gave him a soft smile.
"It's okay, Clint." she told him, "You don't have to feel weird. I don't have a problem with my best friend seeing me naked. Especially when I need his help."
Clint gave her a sheepish look. She had nailed what was bothering him exactly. His eyes widened when it occurred to him that he was going to have to get into the shower with her. Shit.
"Really, Clint." Nat insisted, "It's okay. I trust you more than anyone else in the world. I know you're not going to read anything more into it or do anything I don't want you to."
Reassured, Clint helped Natasha get out of her clothes and turned the shower on. He still did his best to not look at her while the shower heated up. He kept it up for a minute or so before Nat let out a frustrated sigh and reached out to grab his chin and turn his head toward her.
"Look at me." she demanded, "Look at my body and get it out of the way. I'm naked and you're a guy. It's not a big deal, stop making it so fucking weird."
Clint caught an undertone to her words that told him there was more than just the obvious reason she wanted him to look at her. She wanted to know if he saw her as damaged goods, but wasn't going to come out and say it. He complied with her demand and looked her up and down blatantly for a moment. The effect was somewhat ruined by the sheer amount of bruises and cuts she was currently sporting, but he had to admit she was an attractive girl.
"See? Was that so hard?" Nat asked with a raised eyebrow, "Now maybe you'll stop being such a dingus about it."
Clint had to admit, Nat forcing him to intentionally look at her had broken the awkwardness about the situation. It came back when he realized he'd have to strip down to his boxers because all his clothes were still back at the other safehouse. He swore quietly and started to pull his shirt off. Nat's eyes went wide when she realized he'd have to be undressed too. She apparently hadn't thought about that either. Her gaze locked on his chest briefly before she turned away.
"Okay, now it's a little awkward." she muttered.
They got into the shower and Nat hesitated with her back turned to the spray. She slowly backed into the hot water spray, only to hiss and involuntarily jerk forward when the stream hit the first laceration low on her back.
"Clint, I can't do it." she said miserably, "You're going to have to force me into it. I know you don't want to hurt me, but it has to get rinsed out."
Having said that Nat stepped forward and put her arms over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. She pressed herself into him and buried her face in his shoulder anticipating the pain. Having her pressed against him while both of them were naked or mostly naked was a little uncomfortable for Clint. It didn't feel as wrong as her seduction attempt, and there was nothing sexual about it. It was just strangely intimate, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.
"Hold onto my hips so I can't twist away." Nat told him with her teeth gritted, "I'm going to if you don't. It hurts really fucking bad."
Clint stepped forward, just as reluctant about it as she was. Nat gasped when the stream hit the lowest cuts. As Clint slowly stepped forward she whined a little in anticipation. Her upper back was where it was the worst, and it was going to be agonizing when the water hit it. Natasha pressed herself even tighter against him when the hot water hit the longest and deepest cuts across her shoulder blades and let out a short, sharp scream that she choked back. Clint let out a yelp of his own when he felt her bury her teeth into his shoulder to try and hold her screams in.
"What the fuck, Nat?"
"Sorry. Sorry." she panted, "I didn't mean to do that. Back, back, please move back."
Clint complied and Nat just hung off him for a few moments like a ragdoll. Clint was a little stunned by how red the water running down the drain was. She had a lot of blood caked on her, and that wasn't all of it. Clint helped her scrub most of her lower body because she couldn't really bend right now. Working on her upper body Clint took the opportunity to probe her for injuries. He prodded her ribs gently on her right side and she yelped and lurched to her left instinctively. At least a couple cracked ribs then. Finally the only thing they had left was the most sensitive part of her. Nat tried to hand Clint the washcloth and he shook his head at her emphatically.
"I'm not doing that for you, Nat." he told her firmly, "That's too far."
"That's fair." she nodded and turned around to lean her back against him, hissing as she did so.
"Don't scrub too hard." Clint offered, "It will make it worse."
"I know that, moron." Nat snapped, "I thinkI just might be a little more familiar with my vagina than you are."
Clint abruptly shut up and continued to stand there awkwardly holding her up while she cleaned herself.
Finally they were done and got dried off. Natasha swore under her breath and gasped a few times when the towel hit particularly painful spots, but managed it.
When they went back out to the bedroom Clint spotted the first aid kit that May or Coulson had left on the bed. Probably May, Clint figured. He was starting to wonder if maybe May understood how Natasha felt better than she was letting on. He certainly wasn't going to ask, though.
Clint pulled the alcohol and a soft cloth out of the kit and saw the pained expression on Nat's face when she realized how bad this was about to hurt.
"I honestly don't understand how you haven't passed out yet." Clint told her seriously, "Most people would be out cold from the blood loss alone."
"My blood clots fast." she told him, "I'm not sure why. I haven't actually lost that much blood. It just got smeared a lot."
Clint clocked the lie as soon as it came out of her mouth. Natasha knew exactly why her blood clotted faster than normal, or at least had a good idea. He had touched on it before and backed off when he realized he'd hit a nerve. She didn't want to think about the possibility that she'd been changed in some fundamental way.
Clint disinfected and wrapped her wounds as carefully as he could. He still apologized on reflex every time she gasped or whimpered. Clint felt bad for all the pain he was causing her, even though he knew he was helping in the long run. When he got to her nose he paused.
"Do you want to set it or do you want me to?" he asked.
"I can. Not the first time it's been broken." she told him. She placed her hands on the bridge of her nose in a triangle and pulled downward sharp and hard. She bit back a pained cry and settled for a loud "Fuck, that hurts!" instead.
Finally they were done after deciding which injuries needed to be wrapped and which ones could be left open. Clint was impressed with Natasha's resilience, but also a little concerned. She was doing a little too good of a job of ignoring the horrific abuse she'd been subjected to only hours before. He looked at her a little more closely and saw that her facade was thin and brittle, and she was just barely holding onto it. Nat held his gaze for a moment and actually acknowledged what he was seeing, which surprised the hell out of him.
"I'm not okay, Clint." she admitted with a catch in her voice, "I am so very far from okay I can't even explain it. I just can't think about it right now."
"It's okay to not be okay." Clint said, "I'm proud of you, Nat."
"What the hell for?" she asked incredulously, "I'm weak and pitiful. If you hadn't come and got me I'd have frozen to death by now. You think I don't know I was getting close to hypothermia?"
"You survived, Nat." he explained, "You came out the other side and you're still you. Do you get how incredible that is with how badly you were treated? You are way stronger than you realize."
Clint was dancing around coming out and directly referencing what had happened and they both knew it. Nat shot a quick, grateful glance at him for not saying the words.
"We both know I'm going to completely lose my shit, Clint." Natasha told him quietly, "I'm sorry for how hard that's going to be on you. I'm probably going to take it out on you a lot, and you don't deserve that."
Clint knew Nat's current clarity of thought was coming at a high cost. She was shoving everything down as deep as she could get it, and the longer she did that for the worse it was going to be for her when she couldn't hold it in anymore. Her crying jag on the Quinjet hadn't even scratched the surface. She hadn't even begun to really process what she had been through, and it was going to be bad when she did. They had only had her for a little under twelve hours, but they had traumatized her in ways that she'd carry with her the rest of her life.
"You don't have to face it by yourself, Tasha." he told her sincerely, "The only time you'll be alone for the foreseeable future is if you want to be. I'm staying by your side for all of it."
"Thank you, Clint." Nat said quietly with unshed tears in her eyes, "For everything. I don't want to think about where I'd be if you hadn't come into my life. You have no idea how much it means to me that you care."
It was a foregone conclusion that Clint would be staying with her in the bed. They didn't even dignify it with words. After all, she had just spent nearly an hour naked in the shower with him scrubbing dried blood off. Using his shoulder for a pillow didn't even register in terms of how oddly intimate their night had become.
Clint climbed into the bed first and let Natasha settle herself in curled up next to him. There really wasn't a comfortable position for her to be in, everything hurt too bad. But she eventually found a spot that was at least bearable.
"It's okay, Tasha." Clint murmured near her ear, "I know how much you hurt right now. You don't have to be so stoic about it. It stays between us."
"When did you start calling me Tasha?" she wondered softly.
"Not sure." he told her, "Just kinda felt right, you know?"
"Yeah, I think I like it." Natasha mused, "It's soothing."
She got quiet after that and sniffled a couple times before giving in and letting Clint hold her while she quietly cried herself to sleep.
A/N: Viktor actually does have a backstory, but Clint didn't care so it wasn't relevant to the narrative. He wasn't affiliated with the Red Room anymore. He defected and ran after stealing the files of six widows, one of which being Natasha's. He was in Sokovia to buy weapons from Klaue and it was pure dumb luck that he spotted and recognized her. The only reason she was taken at all was because someone just happened to spot her that knew enough of her trigger words to subdue her.
Everything he said to Clint was a lie. His plan was to acquire a widow to use for his own ends. It was very hastily concocted when he saw her and had a lot of holes in it. Viktor was panicking on the phone because he didn't have an extraction plan in place when he took her.
The next few chapters are going to be emotionally charged and deal with Natasha trying to recover from such a traumatic event.
She'll start becoming more like the Natasha Romanoff we all know and love soon. I promise.