Avengers (2012): "Heavy in Your Arms (12/15)" (Clint/Natasha)
Title: Heavy in Your Arms (12/15)
Author/Artist: Koren M. (cybermathwitch)
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, there'd already be a Black Widow/Hawkeye movie.
Pairing: Clint/Natasha, Coulson/The Cellist, Fury/Jin Mae (OFC)
Rating: Adult 17+
Warnings: language, violence, eventually sexual content, dub-con if you feel that mystical/destiny sorts of compulsions qualify as dubious consent (Natasha might agree with you) THIS CHAPTER: mentions of forced medical procedures/general Red Room evilness, mentions/discussion of assisted suicide (ish) (all pretty canon-typical levels of such)
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 6.305
Summary: Time to lay it all on the table, then.
Author's Notes: See Chapter 1 for more notes.
kadollan and sweetwatersong are both still amazing. :D
Previous Chapter
Natasha jerked awake and forced herself to lie perfectly still while she worked on remembering how to breathe around the hard, fast beating of her heart. She tried to get her body under control and hoped whatever surveillance they had in her room wasn't sensitive enough to pick up her agitation. If they saw she was having nightmares after a routine mission, they might question her further and that was something she couldn't afford.
She feigned sleep for another two hours, until it was reasonable for her to get up and make her way down to the training levels for a workout. She pushed herself through a brutal routine, finally ending up on the balance beam in an attempt to try and regain her center. The mindless physicality of the running and the weights had allowed her to shut her thinking mind off, but the slower, more deliberate movements on the beam brought her analytical side back with a vengeance.
They were miles apart, whole countries in fact. It was a miracle he'd been with her in the dream at all. Anything could've broken the connection, he could've woken up for any number of reasons, or they might've just reached the natural limit of their abilities. It could even have been a residual effect of bonding, wearing off over time. It didn't have to mean that something had happened to him.
Natasha didn't believe that. Even once she was finished, warm and loose and pleasantly worn down from her workout, the ball of icy fear in her stomach remained. She wasn't used to caring about someone, to worrying about them. She certainly wasn't used to wanting to protect someone, let alone wanting and not being able to.
"Natalia."
She looked up to see Alexei standing in the doorway.
"The General would like to see you again. Come with me."
*****
"You can go in now, Deputy Director." Agent Peterson barely looked up from his computer when he waved her back - nothing about Maria's presence or her request to set up a meeting with Fury was out of the ordinary. And if Peterson had any thoughts about why she had two SHIELD agents with her who were still more than a little Marine, he didn't show it.
She asked the other two to remain in the outer room, and strongly implied that she was meeting with them about something else and just needed a minute to take care of this one thing.
Of course no one questioned her.
Fury was sitting behind his desk looking over some kind of report when she stepped inside with the incriminating folder in hand.
"Agent Hill," he greeted her. He didn't wave her into a chair, she never sat when she visited him anyway.
"Sir."
"What did you need to speak to me about, Agent?"
"I've been getting up to speed on the events in my absence, and I have some concerns about our pursuit of Agent Barton and the enemy agent codenamed 'Black Widow', sir."
Fury stilled in his seat and the tension levels in the room ratcheted up several notches.
"Is that so, Agent Hill?"
"It is, sir. I fail to see why it was necessary to order the Black Widow terminated so prematurely, before she’d even been questioned about what intel she may have been gathering or what insight she might have into the workings of her organization."
"She was a threat, Agent. Her very presence on the carrier was a threat to SHIELD security and our infrastructure. Taking her out sooner rather than later was the most prudent option." His voice was laced with warning, and Maria recognized the tone from the few times she'd heard it used on Agents who'd made critical, catastrophic mistakes.
"Sir, she came in voluntarily and was well controlled while in holding. It also goes directly against SHIELD procedure to order someone with such a personal connection to be directly involved in any such operation. Even if she were a big enough threat to require execution, ordering Barton to do it went against regulations. It also went against basic decency."
Like firing a shot into a crowded mob scene, that was the blow that started the real fight.
"I don't appreciate you questioning my authority, Agent Hill." Fury stood up, letting his coat fall open enough to remind her that he had a gun.
"Sir, I believe that you are not and have not been seeing this situation rationally."
"Really. Enlighten me then, before I have your ass shipped back stateside."
"The last thing you have ever been, is one to waste an opportunity. But that's exactly what you did. You also broke numerous regulations, summarily ordered an execution, and extorted two agents to act against their best judgment under the threat of kidnapping and murder."
He slammed a hand down on his desk, and she felt her spine straighten even more, and her shoulders square. "Who the fuck do you think you are to stand there and accuse me of anything, Agent Hill?"
Behind her, she was dimly aware of Peterson arguing while Williams and Murphy entered the room and flanked her. She dropped the file onto the desk so that both her hands were free.
"The Deputy Director of SHIELD, sir. Under Article 619, Subsection B of SHIELD's Revised Code of Conduct and Procedures, I am declaring you unfit for duty and ordering you to stand down and relinquish command of this vessel and organization."
"Like hell I will! Murphy! Williams! What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't make me charge all three of you with mutiny!"
"Sir, you have been compromised by your own emotional involvement in this situation, and I have to ask that you stand down for the duration until we can work this out. You're too close to this, you're not objective," Maria tried again, keeping her voice level but not giving any indication that she was backing down.
"My objectivity is just fine. You're the one who's gone off her damn rocker!"
Time to lay it all on the table, then.
"I know about Agent Jin Mae. I know everything that happened, I know that you think she betrayed you, and SHIELD, and that you put a bullet in her rather than let her leave with sensitive information."
She saw it then, watched it when something inside him just... snapped.
Fury reached for his gun, and Maria's own draw was just milliseconds behind his.
"Sir, you do not want to do this. Not this way. If you back off, come with us quietly, then there's a chance we can work all this out. But if you shoot me, you'll only prove me right."
"Shut the fuck up, Hill. You don't know a damn thing."
"I know more than you think. I know more than you do about what happened to her." Without lowering her gun, and trusting the agents at her back, Maria reached down with one hand and flipped the file open. She turned over the photograph lying among the pages, and pointed at the horrific image of a woman holding a dead girl.
"That's Mae's sister, and her niece. She was being blackmailed by the North Korean government into continuing to send information back to them on SHIELD. They killed her niece, because they thought it would help keep her in line."
"That's bullshit. She was a trained operative from the very beginning," he argued, refusing to look down, and she could see where he was unraveling. The Lovelace quote she’d thought of last night echoed in her mind.
"If she hadn't been so fanatically loyal, if she'd been swayed from everything she'd been raised to believe in so easily, would you've been able to love her at all? Could you have loved someone, been matched with someone who showed any less dedication than you? Who cared any less about her principles, her country, or her family? She had no choice in what she did, not given who she was. And you couldn't see past that, because your own honor and loyalty were just as strong, just as important to you as Jin Mae's was to her.
"You betrayed each other, Director, because you couldn't do anything else. But that doesn't mean, that doesn't give you the right, to stand here and play god and try to wipe the entire damn mechanism off the map, and you've reached the point where this has eaten away at you for so long that you can't make logical, rational decisions anymore when it's involved. You owe it to those ideals, this organization and the things that you honor, the things that you valued more than her life, to do the right thing now, and step the fuck down. Don't make me shoot you. Please."
She felt time draw out on a breath, a heartbeat, and she watched him break against what she'd said and what he saw there. Like a movement in slow motion, Maria watched him lower the gun until she heard the surprisingly loud sound of it meeting the desk as he set it down. She forced herself to move, to tilt her head just enough to spur Williams and Murphy into movement, and they came around on either side of him to bring his hands around behind his back and cuff them there.
The walk from his office to the brig was silent, or maybe she just couldn't hear any sound over the roaring in her ears. Adrenaline burned through her system almost painfully, but she kept her stride measured and her face impassive. She watched them lock him in a cell, and watched him sink down on the bench inside.
*****
Clint had lost all sense of time since they'd taken him. The drugs kept him awake, but it felt like he wasn't entirely attached to his own body anymore and couldn't get his muscles to do what he wanted them too. His reflexes were sluggish at best, and it took too long to make what he was hearing and feeling make sense. It was a long car ride, and he wondered where they were taking him, but it felt like a distant concern, like a memory from some other lifetime.
God, he hated being drugged.
Finally, when enough light was filling the car that he could sense it even through the hood, they slowed down, then finally stopped and he found himself being pulled roughly out of the back seat. The guy holding his arm shoved him forward with sharp, short order he sort of recognized as Russian. But I thought I spoke Russian, he wondered to himself, and decided that was probably the drugs, too.
At least they were (mostly) letting him move under his own power, confident that he wouldn't be able to work up enough strength to really fight back. And they would be right, he thought sourly. Right at the moment, it felt like a small child would be able to hold him down.
They went inside, and then he felt the lurch of an elevator taking them down, down, down. Sub-basement, maybe, and he'd already decided this wasn't SHIELD. The ride felt like it took forever, but finally it stopped and he was actually picked up, thrown over someone's shoulder, and carried the rest of the way. They dumped him in an unceremonious heap on the floor and he thought he heard a door. He kicked out at them, or tried to, and his legs were grabbed and tied together. Then he was hauled up, set on a chair, and the cuffs on his hands were replaced with stronger manacles.
Only then did they tear the hood off his head, and he blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright lighting.
"Agent Barton, I take it?" A woman's voice, older by the sound of it. It had a rough edge to the guttural Russian accent. By squinting, he was able to make out that she was wearing a uniform, but couldn't make sense of the insignias or medals.
"Who wants to know?" he smarted off, and got a fist in the jaw for his trouble. It hadn't come from her, and he realized muzzily that there was a man on either side of him. Stupid, stupid drugs, he thought irritably. She was pacing around him, and he knew the technique, now combined with his slow reaction times it was designed to put him on edge so he'd react before thinking. Gotta focus.
"Do you think I have you in here because I want what you know about SHIELD?" Her laugh crawled up and down his spine.
"I suppose you might have useful intel about procedures and security measures, but two things make taking the time to get them out of you... inadvisable. First, I have no doubt that anything you did know of value will be changed - if not now, then before we could utilize it. You are on the run now, are you not? So they no longer trust you. That information is outdated. Useless." She stopped, right in front of him, and her hand shot out to grip his chin tightly, forcing his face up to look at her.
"Second, I would hate to damage you, and I'm sure it would take that. I have so many more uses for you, some of which require you in good health. So you have been spared the ignominy of torture, at least temporarily. I can't promise that I might not give you to Mikhail's tender mercies in the future. But that will come later."
"You are an extraordinary man, Agent Barton. I'm sure you knew that. Your marksmanship is respected even here in the Red Room. Almost as extraordinary in your own way as our Natalia. We've noticed over the years of our research that extraordinary people often bond, but it begs an interesting question. Does the fact that they are extraordinary make them more susceptible to bonding? Or is their susceptibility to bonding what makes them extraordinary in other regards, as well?"
Clint shifted against the cuffs that held him to the chair. He couldn't help it, couldn't sit still. The full implication of what she was saying hit him and it was more terrifying than any threat of torture.
"It's remarkable, really... we know so little about what the bond is, or how it works. It's so much more varied and complex than it's purported to be. Like so many things, our stories make it simplistic, and it's so much more. Did you know that every couple develops their own, unique connection? It takes different shapes, imparts different abilities for different people. Of all the pairs we've studied, each one has been unique."
"None of them, though, have been appropriate subjects for more than cursory research. Even when our girls have bonded with someone, none of them have been suitable for what we're trying to do. Where we've attempted to replicate the process, we've always failed. But you, Agent Barton. Simply put, you are perfect. Have you already begun to see some of the secondary effects? Empathy, sympathetic pain, or telepathy perhaps?"
Adrenaline had burned off the leading edge of whatever they'd given him, making the situation achingly clear. "What the hell makes you think I'd tell you?"
"I'm thinking not, at least not at any strength. The drugs might have interfered, but she doesn't seem aware that you're here yet. I just sent someone to fetch her. I wonder how she'll react? She was always my good girl, so stoic, so strong, despite her rebellious tendencies. I have always wondered what it might take to break her. Together, once we've reconditioned you both, I have a feeling you will exceed even my wildest expectations."
*****
Natasha followed Alexei through the hallways, and her stomach knotted when he headed away from the offices, down towards the interrogation and holding suites. He ushered her into one of them and closed the door, leaving her alone.
It wasn't long before the General entered the room, the same false, pleasant smile on her face as the evening before. "Natalia, my dear," she began, and as she was sometimes wont to do with "her girls" she leaned in close, as if she was going to share a secret or embrace her.
"We stopped by Switzerland this morning," Pogdorni whispered near her ear and she felt, literally felt her blood turn to ice and would swear in that moment she heard wood splinter and glass shatter as her dreams fell in ruins around her feet.
Only years of iron clad control kept her from visibly choking or throwing up on the floor.
"Would you like to see what we found?"
please no please no please no please no
"Alright."
Pogdorni stepped back and rapped on the door and a few seconds later it opened and a tightly restrained figure was shoved to the floor at her feet by one of the guards.
Clint landed hard on his right side, and could tell from how he reacted to the impact he'd been drugged. The undercurrent of fear she'd felt all morning crystallized and she realized at least part of it had come from him, from this, she just hadn't known how to recognize it, and was used to pushing her own emotions away. She could see how disoriented he was and knew how much he would hate that feeling, just like she did. There was a matted streak through his hair where someone had hit him and not bothered to wipe away the blood and she could see from the angle his shoulder was bound he was probably in pain.
She pulled on every reserve of control and training she could muster, every bit, and turned to look at her commanding officer with a bored expression on her face.
"I see you found my present."
"Present?"
"He's the one who I convinced to help me escape. He implied he was getting tired of SHIELD's control, so I offered him another option. I told him that if he was willing to give us information, I would see about making it worth his while."
Natasha felt the pain across her cheek as Pogdorni's hand connected and tried to shake the pinpoints of light from her vision. Just like when she'd been a little girl, she held her ground without flinching, but hated that they could still make her feel so afraid, and hated that she couldn't simply fight back without jeopardizing everything.
"I am not stupid, Natalia. I know what you have been doing these last few years. Did you really think we wouldn't notice your movements? How you snuck around on missions arranging things just so? You've never been out of our sight, girl, and you were foolish to think so."
Pogdorni was also smart enough to know after all these years that Natasha would never break completely. They'd made her too strong for that, but she did like terrorizing those around her whenever she got the chance.
"I'm going to spare you a formal punishment, Natalia, because despite your rebellion, you've brought us a sought after new asset, and I have more important uses for you at present. Besides, the effect would be negligible, since you wouldn't have long to remember and learn from it."
Another guard entered the room, and she was shocked to see Yasha. He looked no different than the last time she'd seen him. "Yasha, take her down to holding until we're ready to proceed," she ordered, then turned to the first guard and pointed at Clint. "Take that one to the research level to begin processing."
She stiffened and Yasha gripped her arm tightly and led her out of the room. "Do not reveal so much, Natasha," he whispered, soft enough that only she could hear him as he led her down the hall. There was video surveillance, but not audio, not out here, and she kept looking forward even though the name took her off guard. No one in the Red Room called her Natasha, always Natalia. It was something she had only ever called herself in her head, until she'd given it to Clint to use.
It wasn't a long walk to the detention cell, and when they reached it he stopped her just before the door to turn her and push her up against the wall until he was crowding into her space in a way that should look threatening, but for the lack of force and weight he was putting behind it.
"Yasha-" she started, but at the sound of the name he cut her off.
"James. I told you once to call me James, Natasha."
It ghosted across her mind then, and she could hear her name in his voice, oddly affectionate and out of sync with everything around them. "You're the one that called me Natasha," she realized. "But that wasn't in Bangkok."
"It was in Minsk. We went there to kill someone."
She didn't remember Minsk, only Thailand, and told him as much. "We had dozens of missions together," he said, "until we tried to leave. Then caught us and then they made you forget, and put me under for a long time, just like they're going to do to you now. They want to study you, Natasha, you and him and the bond that they think you have."
She nodded, she'd gathered as much.
"You won't remember anything at all. Not for a very long time. For you, maybe never." She knew it was different for them, the girls who'd been altered while so very young. It was so much easier for the scientists to take their minds and change them than his. "When we were hiding from them in Reykjavik, you asked me why I'd never tried to leave before. Do you remember that?"
"No."
"I told you it was because they would always be there and they would always come back, and you didn't believe me. They caught us the next day. The only choice you have, the only way you're ever going to get away is when you die. I can give you that. If you tried to get away, I could make it look like an accident and you would be free of all this."
"I can't do that. I can't just make a decision that would end his life, too, and I'm not ready to die. There's got to be another way. I'm not ready to just give up yet."
There was real sorrow on his face when he stepped back from her and ushered her inside the cell.
*****
Afterward, he watched her through the heavy glass of the observation window. She lay still and quiet on the cot inside. So very different than how he'd seen her other times, full of someone else's life and motion while she drew a mark in to her flame. Most of those memories slid like insubstantial shadows through his mind, brushing against the edges of his consciousness but never solid enough he could grab hold of them and study them to be sure about them. The only thing that was certain was that she, like few others, was important to him.
He knew what was going to happen next, knew what the tanks did. If he'd had it left in him, he'd have cried for her and what he knew they would take away, but he'd lost that ability years ago. His left hand flexed - metal and cervos and microscopic gears that moved soundlessly.
Footsteps alerted him to movement in the hall, and he folded himself back into the shadows near the door like a good sentry rather than let them catch him looking at her. The last thing either of them needed was to be used as leverage against one another again.
*****
"Acting Director Hill. You say that you believe Director Fury was acting irrationally. On what do you base those suppositions? I see here you weren't on the Carrier at the time when Agent Barton brought the Black Widow aboard and subsequently escaped."
"Yes, ma'am. However, I did a thorough review of the logs, reports, and surveillance footage upon my return. I believe that Director Fury allowed personal issues from his previous involvement with another agent to color his judgment and actions in this case. He made decisions that went against established SHIELD regulations and codes, and created a situation that could've easily had international ramifications. He also committed extortion against two separate agents to try and manipulate the situation."
"You have no supporting evidence for any extortion claims," another voice, this time from the shadow on the far left, broke in.
"I have no supporting evidence, other than Agent Coulson's testimony in regards to the threats made towards him. However, in Agent Barton's case, Director Fury's orders to have the Black Widow terminated and the requirement that Agent Barton be the one to do it are fully documented. Even in a situation where her termination was in the best interests of SHIELD and the general public, due to the apparent nature of the connection between Agent Barton and Romanov, he should not have been the one ordered to carry it out." Maria almost felt like she was watching herself from afar, and she was holding onto that detachment with every fiber of her being. To accuse Fury of being emotionally involved and therefore unfit for duty, she needed to present herself as the picture of objectivity and reason. She was damn good at that, but the blacked out silhouettes instead of faces were unnerving.
"And what personal issues are you citing as being responsible for Director Fury's irrationality?" the woman asked evenly, like she was looking over something as mundane as a supply request.
Here was where it got tricky. Maria couldn't reveal that she had a copy of Fury's file, not the parts that referenced Agent Jin.
"It's fairly common knowledge at SHIELD that Director Fury had a similar bond in the past that went badly. I believe that incident, and the ensuing trauma and recovery, have given him an inability to view similar situations in a rational manner. He came to the apparent conclusion that Agent Barton would no longer be capable of loyalty to SHIELD if he formed such a bond and ordered a swift, irrevocable and potentially very destructive action. At that time, both Barton and the Black Widow were in custody and under guard. At that time, he'd made no move to indicate he was disloyal to SHIELD. In fact, the first and only action of his that implied disloyalty was escaping with her after he was put in an untenable position that threatened both of their lives. From a purely practical standpoint, may I also add that he may very well have been acting to protect intel, as the Black Widow had not yet been interrogated. Since she had come into custody willingly, it was Agent Coulson's understanding she was willing to provide important information on the Red Room."
"As a high ranking member of the organization, she would have pivotal information concerning their procedures, missions, and whereabouts of several of their agents."
"Yes, ma'am. That was my feeling as well. If she were willing to become an informant, or possibly even a double agent, it would be very short-sighted to kill her before utilizing her." Personally, it didn't sit well with Maria to view people quite that clinically, even though she did it well. The Council, on the other hand, always seemed to prefer and work strictly on a cost/benefit analysis of situations, and she was willing to play that game if it helped to protect the people under her command.
"We will review the information you've presented to us, Acting Director Hill, and convene a hearing in due course to finalize a decision. In the meantime, you are to remain in charge of SHIELD operations, and continue the search for Agent Barton and the Black Widow. Should you find them, we will allow you some discretion in offering the enemy operative the chance to be cooperative, and the appropriate disciplinary actions to take in regards to Agent Barton's actions. You are to forward us directly any copies of intel you receive on the Red Room, and a threat assessment regarding the nature of Barton and Romanov's bond."
"Yes, ma'am," Maria replied, snapping off a smart salute just before the screens went dark. She didn't allow herself the luxury of leaning against a nearby console, but she did take a moment to press against the muscles at the back of her neck where they were knotted from the tension of the past 36 hours.
Then she opened the door and stepped into the hallway where Coulson was waiting for her. "They've agreed to a hearing regarding Fury's actions, and left the decisions about how to handle Barton and Romanov to me."
"Now let's go find Barton."
*****
Natasha forced herself to sleep, hoping that she would dream.
This time it was a conference center full of glass and wood and chrome. She remembered the mission: she'd been sent to assassinate a French scientist who'd tried to replicate a deadly virus he'd stolen from them. She hadn't even had to seduce him, the idiot had left his drink out in the open unattended, and it had been child's play to slip the poison in. She'd watched to make sure that only he drank it and no other, and once he'd finished it, she'd blended into the background and vanished into the night.
Clint was sitting sprawled across one of the lobby chairs, waiting for her. Natasha took him in, looked for any sign of the injuries she'd seen on him in the interrogation room but here he was blessedly unharmed.
"One of your memories?" he asked, tossing a ball up in the air and catching it, over and over again. When she got close enough, she shot her hand out and grabbed it. In return he reached out and grabbed her, tugging her down onto his lap.
"Yes," she answered, trying to give him a stern look. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you. Got here a little while ago, when they injected me with something down in that lab."
"You seem remarkably calm about all of this," she observed.
"I've been busy thinking. Panic won't help with that. You know this place, these people a hell of a lot better than I do. Have they knocked you out too?"
She shook her head. "No, but they have me locked in a cell and under guard. A very specific guard." He could feel her tension and shifted beneath her until she settled into him further.
"An old friend?"
It took her a long time to answer. "I suppose you could say that, yes. As close as I've ever come to one. More importantly, he's one of the only operatives I can't overpower. James is... different. They've done things to him, enhanced him."
"What do you think they're going to do with us?"
"They're going to recondition us."
"But what does that mean?"
"They'll put us under, maybe for days, maybe for years. I don't know how it works, but they know how to rewire our brains. They'll take out things, memories, personality, skills, and then they'll put others in. Sometimes you're lucky, and they leave you mostly human, mostly real. Other times, all they leave is a... a shell. An empty mind with only one mission or goal within it. Usually a directive to kill." A delicate shudder went through her and he rubbed his hand in slow circles on her back.
"That sounds kind of horrible," he said and she just looked at him. "So what are our alternatives?"
"James offered to kill me. Supposedly, that should kill us both, but I don't know how the bond would affect you if you're already unconscious. It could simply leave you alive and broken."
He looked thoughtful for a minute, and she wondered if he were seriously considering her suggestion.
"What if SHIELD broke us out?"
She almost laughed. "Your people were trying to kill us first, remember?"
"No, my people were trying to capture us."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, fine, they were trying to kill us, but at least we know that's all they want to do, right? And depending... the way that Fury reacted, that wasn't normal. We don't usually do things like that. It's always possible he's come down off whatever weird vendetta he was on and come to his senses by now. But either way, that's better than being turned into puppets, right?"
She nodded. "I would rather be dead than some of the things they'll do to us, yes."
"How much do you trust your friend? If he offered to kill you before they could experiment on you, do you think he'd be willing to do something else for you?"
Natasha thought about it. James seemed genuinely concerned for her, and his offer had seemed sincere. She didn't precisely trust him, but he was the closest thing they had to an ally. "It's possible."
"I have a code. Every SHIELD agent gets one. If it gets sent out on just about any frequency SHIELD can pick it up and they'll know what it means and coming running. It means agent down, bring help immediately. They're already looking for us, and this would bring them in full force. Do you think he could get it out?"
"And then what? We're inside a heavily secured facility."
"Babe, you have no idea the kind of firepower SHIELD can bring to bear when it wants to. They have treaties with half a dozen European nations besides their own in-house units. Maybe, maybe if you were expecting an all out attack? Then you might have a chance of holding us off. But they won't be. Why would they?"
She rolled the idea around in her mind, because he had a point. Years of being unchallenged, of remaining hidden, had made aspects of the Red Room complacent. They had always focused more on experimentation and covert operations than active combat. They'd never done anything to draw attention to their major bases of operations. Oh, their security was top notch, but it wasn't designed to take on a full frontal assault such as the one Clint was implying SHIELD was capable of. She'd seen the carrier firsthand, and it was an impressive piece of technology and weaponry.
A quick death in battle, or even a simple and direct execution would be preferable to the complete loss of self the Red Room's procedures promised.
"Give me the code. I'll see what I can do."
*****
She woke up to James's hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. He caught the defensive hand she raised easily, and made a soft, soothing noise like he'd done such a thing before. Perhaps he had - if he were right then she didn't remember most of their history after all. He leaned in close so that he could hear her and she could hear him with only the barest breath of sound between them.
"It's almost time, Natasha. They're almost done with Barton and they'll be coming for you in a few hours. Have you thought anymore about what I offered you?"
"Yes. But I think I have a better plan. Do you think you could get a message out for me?"
He frowned. "What kind of message?"
"To Barton's people. To SHIELD. He gave me a code, it would act as a distress signal. He thinks it would be enough to bring them here." She kept her voice as low as she possibly could and hoped that they hadn't upgraded their audio capabilities since the last time she'd had someone in one of these rooms.
"I have access to communications, but Natasha, I don't think-"
"Don't. I have to try this first, James. If it doesn't work... if it doesn't work, if they do erase me, and you have the chance, then you have my permission to kill me then. But I have to take this chance."
"Your hope has always been your biggest weakness, Natashka. You know that, right?" The endearment sounded so familiar coming from him, and she wondered how many times she'd heard it that they'd made her forget. "I'll do this, for you. But I want a promise in return."
"Name it."
"If this works, and they come and take you and your agent away? Make sure to kill me before you go. I'm tired, and they've already broken my mind too many times. I know it and they know it, but they'll never stop. It will never end unless I put a stop to it, but the conditioning won't let me. I've tried," he admitted and her heart ached for him. "I trust you to do it right, Natashka. This one last thing."
She wanted to cry then. She wouldn't, there was too much at stake, but oh, how she wanted to. "Alright. I promise, if I have to, I'll make sure they don't get to keep you."
He studied her for a moment, then squeezed her hand and let her go.
"I'll see if they'll allow you any food or water, but it's unlikely with the procedure coming up," he said loudly enough she knew the speakers would pick it up. "I'll be back soon to escort you."
He left, and she knew without having to see it that another guard took his place. She lay back on the cot and stared at the ceiling, prepared to wait.
Interlude 5: Antiphon
Chapter 13
Author/Artist: Koren M. (cybermathwitch)
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, there'd already be a Black Widow/Hawkeye movie.
Pairing: Clint/Natasha, Coulson/The Cellist, Fury/Jin Mae (OFC)
Rating: Adult 17+
Warnings: language, violence, eventually sexual content, dub-con if you feel that mystical/destiny sorts of compulsions qualify as dubious consent (Natasha might agree with you) THIS CHAPTER: mentions of forced medical procedures/general Red Room evilness, mentions/discussion of assisted suicide (ish) (all pretty canon-typical levels of such)
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 6.305
Summary: Time to lay it all on the table, then.
Author's Notes: See Chapter 1 for more notes.
kadollan and sweetwatersong are both still amazing. :D
Previous Chapter
Natasha jerked awake and forced herself to lie perfectly still while she worked on remembering how to breathe around the hard, fast beating of her heart. She tried to get her body under control and hoped whatever surveillance they had in her room wasn't sensitive enough to pick up her agitation. If they saw she was having nightmares after a routine mission, they might question her further and that was something she couldn't afford.
She feigned sleep for another two hours, until it was reasonable for her to get up and make her way down to the training levels for a workout. She pushed herself through a brutal routine, finally ending up on the balance beam in an attempt to try and regain her center. The mindless physicality of the running and the weights had allowed her to shut her thinking mind off, but the slower, more deliberate movements on the beam brought her analytical side back with a vengeance.
They were miles apart, whole countries in fact. It was a miracle he'd been with her in the dream at all. Anything could've broken the connection, he could've woken up for any number of reasons, or they might've just reached the natural limit of their abilities. It could even have been a residual effect of bonding, wearing off over time. It didn't have to mean that something had happened to him.
Natasha didn't believe that. Even once she was finished, warm and loose and pleasantly worn down from her workout, the ball of icy fear in her stomach remained. She wasn't used to caring about someone, to worrying about them. She certainly wasn't used to wanting to protect someone, let alone wanting and not being able to.
"Natalia."
She looked up to see Alexei standing in the doorway.
"The General would like to see you again. Come with me."
*****
"You can go in now, Deputy Director." Agent Peterson barely looked up from his computer when he waved her back - nothing about Maria's presence or her request to set up a meeting with Fury was out of the ordinary. And if Peterson had any thoughts about why she had two SHIELD agents with her who were still more than a little Marine, he didn't show it.
She asked the other two to remain in the outer room, and strongly implied that she was meeting with them about something else and just needed a minute to take care of this one thing.
Of course no one questioned her.
Fury was sitting behind his desk looking over some kind of report when she stepped inside with the incriminating folder in hand.
"Agent Hill," he greeted her. He didn't wave her into a chair, she never sat when she visited him anyway.
"Sir."
"What did you need to speak to me about, Agent?"
"I've been getting up to speed on the events in my absence, and I have some concerns about our pursuit of Agent Barton and the enemy agent codenamed 'Black Widow', sir."
Fury stilled in his seat and the tension levels in the room ratcheted up several notches.
"Is that so, Agent Hill?"
"It is, sir. I fail to see why it was necessary to order the Black Widow terminated so prematurely, before she’d even been questioned about what intel she may have been gathering or what insight she might have into the workings of her organization."
"She was a threat, Agent. Her very presence on the carrier was a threat to SHIELD security and our infrastructure. Taking her out sooner rather than later was the most prudent option." His voice was laced with warning, and Maria recognized the tone from the few times she'd heard it used on Agents who'd made critical, catastrophic mistakes.
"Sir, she came in voluntarily and was well controlled while in holding. It also goes directly against SHIELD procedure to order someone with such a personal connection to be directly involved in any such operation. Even if she were a big enough threat to require execution, ordering Barton to do it went against regulations. It also went against basic decency."
Like firing a shot into a crowded mob scene, that was the blow that started the real fight.
"I don't appreciate you questioning my authority, Agent Hill." Fury stood up, letting his coat fall open enough to remind her that he had a gun.
"Sir, I believe that you are not and have not been seeing this situation rationally."
"Really. Enlighten me then, before I have your ass shipped back stateside."
"The last thing you have ever been, is one to waste an opportunity. But that's exactly what you did. You also broke numerous regulations, summarily ordered an execution, and extorted two agents to act against their best judgment under the threat of kidnapping and murder."
He slammed a hand down on his desk, and she felt her spine straighten even more, and her shoulders square. "Who the fuck do you think you are to stand there and accuse me of anything, Agent Hill?"
Behind her, she was dimly aware of Peterson arguing while Williams and Murphy entered the room and flanked her. She dropped the file onto the desk so that both her hands were free.
"The Deputy Director of SHIELD, sir. Under Article 619, Subsection B of SHIELD's Revised Code of Conduct and Procedures, I am declaring you unfit for duty and ordering you to stand down and relinquish command of this vessel and organization."
"Like hell I will! Murphy! Williams! What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't make me charge all three of you with mutiny!"
"Sir, you have been compromised by your own emotional involvement in this situation, and I have to ask that you stand down for the duration until we can work this out. You're too close to this, you're not objective," Maria tried again, keeping her voice level but not giving any indication that she was backing down.
"My objectivity is just fine. You're the one who's gone off her damn rocker!"
Time to lay it all on the table, then.
"I know about Agent Jin Mae. I know everything that happened, I know that you think she betrayed you, and SHIELD, and that you put a bullet in her rather than let her leave with sensitive information."
She saw it then, watched it when something inside him just... snapped.
Fury reached for his gun, and Maria's own draw was just milliseconds behind his.
"Sir, you do not want to do this. Not this way. If you back off, come with us quietly, then there's a chance we can work all this out. But if you shoot me, you'll only prove me right."
"Shut the fuck up, Hill. You don't know a damn thing."
"I know more than you think. I know more than you do about what happened to her." Without lowering her gun, and trusting the agents at her back, Maria reached down with one hand and flipped the file open. She turned over the photograph lying among the pages, and pointed at the horrific image of a woman holding a dead girl.
"That's Mae's sister, and her niece. She was being blackmailed by the North Korean government into continuing to send information back to them on SHIELD. They killed her niece, because they thought it would help keep her in line."
"That's bullshit. She was a trained operative from the very beginning," he argued, refusing to look down, and she could see where he was unraveling. The Lovelace quote she’d thought of last night echoed in her mind.
"If she hadn't been so fanatically loyal, if she'd been swayed from everything she'd been raised to believe in so easily, would you've been able to love her at all? Could you have loved someone, been matched with someone who showed any less dedication than you? Who cared any less about her principles, her country, or her family? She had no choice in what she did, not given who she was. And you couldn't see past that, because your own honor and loyalty were just as strong, just as important to you as Jin Mae's was to her.
"You betrayed each other, Director, because you couldn't do anything else. But that doesn't mean, that doesn't give you the right, to stand here and play god and try to wipe the entire damn mechanism off the map, and you've reached the point where this has eaten away at you for so long that you can't make logical, rational decisions anymore when it's involved. You owe it to those ideals, this organization and the things that you honor, the things that you valued more than her life, to do the right thing now, and step the fuck down. Don't make me shoot you. Please."
She felt time draw out on a breath, a heartbeat, and she watched him break against what she'd said and what he saw there. Like a movement in slow motion, Maria watched him lower the gun until she heard the surprisingly loud sound of it meeting the desk as he set it down. She forced herself to move, to tilt her head just enough to spur Williams and Murphy into movement, and they came around on either side of him to bring his hands around behind his back and cuff them there.
The walk from his office to the brig was silent, or maybe she just couldn't hear any sound over the roaring in her ears. Adrenaline burned through her system almost painfully, but she kept her stride measured and her face impassive. She watched them lock him in a cell, and watched him sink down on the bench inside.
*****
Clint had lost all sense of time since they'd taken him. The drugs kept him awake, but it felt like he wasn't entirely attached to his own body anymore and couldn't get his muscles to do what he wanted them too. His reflexes were sluggish at best, and it took too long to make what he was hearing and feeling make sense. It was a long car ride, and he wondered where they were taking him, but it felt like a distant concern, like a memory from some other lifetime.
God, he hated being drugged.
Finally, when enough light was filling the car that he could sense it even through the hood, they slowed down, then finally stopped and he found himself being pulled roughly out of the back seat. The guy holding his arm shoved him forward with sharp, short order he sort of recognized as Russian. But I thought I spoke Russian, he wondered to himself, and decided that was probably the drugs, too.
At least they were (mostly) letting him move under his own power, confident that he wouldn't be able to work up enough strength to really fight back. And they would be right, he thought sourly. Right at the moment, it felt like a small child would be able to hold him down.
They went inside, and then he felt the lurch of an elevator taking them down, down, down. Sub-basement, maybe, and he'd already decided this wasn't SHIELD. The ride felt like it took forever, but finally it stopped and he was actually picked up, thrown over someone's shoulder, and carried the rest of the way. They dumped him in an unceremonious heap on the floor and he thought he heard a door. He kicked out at them, or tried to, and his legs were grabbed and tied together. Then he was hauled up, set on a chair, and the cuffs on his hands were replaced with stronger manacles.
Only then did they tear the hood off his head, and he blinked rapidly to adjust to the bright lighting.
"Agent Barton, I take it?" A woman's voice, older by the sound of it. It had a rough edge to the guttural Russian accent. By squinting, he was able to make out that she was wearing a uniform, but couldn't make sense of the insignias or medals.
"Who wants to know?" he smarted off, and got a fist in the jaw for his trouble. It hadn't come from her, and he realized muzzily that there was a man on either side of him. Stupid, stupid drugs, he thought irritably. She was pacing around him, and he knew the technique, now combined with his slow reaction times it was designed to put him on edge so he'd react before thinking. Gotta focus.
"Do you think I have you in here because I want what you know about SHIELD?" Her laugh crawled up and down his spine.
"I suppose you might have useful intel about procedures and security measures, but two things make taking the time to get them out of you... inadvisable. First, I have no doubt that anything you did know of value will be changed - if not now, then before we could utilize it. You are on the run now, are you not? So they no longer trust you. That information is outdated. Useless." She stopped, right in front of him, and her hand shot out to grip his chin tightly, forcing his face up to look at her.
"Second, I would hate to damage you, and I'm sure it would take that. I have so many more uses for you, some of which require you in good health. So you have been spared the ignominy of torture, at least temporarily. I can't promise that I might not give you to Mikhail's tender mercies in the future. But that will come later."
"You are an extraordinary man, Agent Barton. I'm sure you knew that. Your marksmanship is respected even here in the Red Room. Almost as extraordinary in your own way as our Natalia. We've noticed over the years of our research that extraordinary people often bond, but it begs an interesting question. Does the fact that they are extraordinary make them more susceptible to bonding? Or is their susceptibility to bonding what makes them extraordinary in other regards, as well?"
Clint shifted against the cuffs that held him to the chair. He couldn't help it, couldn't sit still. The full implication of what she was saying hit him and it was more terrifying than any threat of torture.
"It's remarkable, really... we know so little about what the bond is, or how it works. It's so much more varied and complex than it's purported to be. Like so many things, our stories make it simplistic, and it's so much more. Did you know that every couple develops their own, unique connection? It takes different shapes, imparts different abilities for different people. Of all the pairs we've studied, each one has been unique."
"None of them, though, have been appropriate subjects for more than cursory research. Even when our girls have bonded with someone, none of them have been suitable for what we're trying to do. Where we've attempted to replicate the process, we've always failed. But you, Agent Barton. Simply put, you are perfect. Have you already begun to see some of the secondary effects? Empathy, sympathetic pain, or telepathy perhaps?"
Adrenaline had burned off the leading edge of whatever they'd given him, making the situation achingly clear. "What the hell makes you think I'd tell you?"
"I'm thinking not, at least not at any strength. The drugs might have interfered, but she doesn't seem aware that you're here yet. I just sent someone to fetch her. I wonder how she'll react? She was always my good girl, so stoic, so strong, despite her rebellious tendencies. I have always wondered what it might take to break her. Together, once we've reconditioned you both, I have a feeling you will exceed even my wildest expectations."
*****
Natasha followed Alexei through the hallways, and her stomach knotted when he headed away from the offices, down towards the interrogation and holding suites. He ushered her into one of them and closed the door, leaving her alone.
It wasn't long before the General entered the room, the same false, pleasant smile on her face as the evening before. "Natalia, my dear," she began, and as she was sometimes wont to do with "her girls" she leaned in close, as if she was going to share a secret or embrace her.
"We stopped by Switzerland this morning," Pogdorni whispered near her ear and she felt, literally felt her blood turn to ice and would swear in that moment she heard wood splinter and glass shatter as her dreams fell in ruins around her feet.
Only years of iron clad control kept her from visibly choking or throwing up on the floor.
"Would you like to see what we found?"
please no please no please no please no
"Alright."
Pogdorni stepped back and rapped on the door and a few seconds later it opened and a tightly restrained figure was shoved to the floor at her feet by one of the guards.
Clint landed hard on his right side, and could tell from how he reacted to the impact he'd been drugged. The undercurrent of fear she'd felt all morning crystallized and she realized at least part of it had come from him, from this, she just hadn't known how to recognize it, and was used to pushing her own emotions away. She could see how disoriented he was and knew how much he would hate that feeling, just like she did. There was a matted streak through his hair where someone had hit him and not bothered to wipe away the blood and she could see from the angle his shoulder was bound he was probably in pain.
She pulled on every reserve of control and training she could muster, every bit, and turned to look at her commanding officer with a bored expression on her face.
"I see you found my present."
"Present?"
"He's the one who I convinced to help me escape. He implied he was getting tired of SHIELD's control, so I offered him another option. I told him that if he was willing to give us information, I would see about making it worth his while."
Natasha felt the pain across her cheek as Pogdorni's hand connected and tried to shake the pinpoints of light from her vision. Just like when she'd been a little girl, she held her ground without flinching, but hated that they could still make her feel so afraid, and hated that she couldn't simply fight back without jeopardizing everything.
"I am not stupid, Natalia. I know what you have been doing these last few years. Did you really think we wouldn't notice your movements? How you snuck around on missions arranging things just so? You've never been out of our sight, girl, and you were foolish to think so."
Pogdorni was also smart enough to know after all these years that Natasha would never break completely. They'd made her too strong for that, but she did like terrorizing those around her whenever she got the chance.
"I'm going to spare you a formal punishment, Natalia, because despite your rebellion, you've brought us a sought after new asset, and I have more important uses for you at present. Besides, the effect would be negligible, since you wouldn't have long to remember and learn from it."
Another guard entered the room, and she was shocked to see Yasha. He looked no different than the last time she'd seen him. "Yasha, take her down to holding until we're ready to proceed," she ordered, then turned to the first guard and pointed at Clint. "Take that one to the research level to begin processing."
She stiffened and Yasha gripped her arm tightly and led her out of the room. "Do not reveal so much, Natasha," he whispered, soft enough that only she could hear him as he led her down the hall. There was video surveillance, but not audio, not out here, and she kept looking forward even though the name took her off guard. No one in the Red Room called her Natasha, always Natalia. It was something she had only ever called herself in her head, until she'd given it to Clint to use.
It wasn't a long walk to the detention cell, and when they reached it he stopped her just before the door to turn her and push her up against the wall until he was crowding into her space in a way that should look threatening, but for the lack of force and weight he was putting behind it.
"Yasha-" she started, but at the sound of the name he cut her off.
"James. I told you once to call me James, Natasha."
It ghosted across her mind then, and she could hear her name in his voice, oddly affectionate and out of sync with everything around them. "You're the one that called me Natasha," she realized. "But that wasn't in Bangkok."
"It was in Minsk. We went there to kill someone."
She didn't remember Minsk, only Thailand, and told him as much. "We had dozens of missions together," he said, "until we tried to leave. Then caught us and then they made you forget, and put me under for a long time, just like they're going to do to you now. They want to study you, Natasha, you and him and the bond that they think you have."
She nodded, she'd gathered as much.
"You won't remember anything at all. Not for a very long time. For you, maybe never." She knew it was different for them, the girls who'd been altered while so very young. It was so much easier for the scientists to take their minds and change them than his. "When we were hiding from them in Reykjavik, you asked me why I'd never tried to leave before. Do you remember that?"
"No."
"I told you it was because they would always be there and they would always come back, and you didn't believe me. They caught us the next day. The only choice you have, the only way you're ever going to get away is when you die. I can give you that. If you tried to get away, I could make it look like an accident and you would be free of all this."
"I can't do that. I can't just make a decision that would end his life, too, and I'm not ready to die. There's got to be another way. I'm not ready to just give up yet."
There was real sorrow on his face when he stepped back from her and ushered her inside the cell.
*****
Afterward, he watched her through the heavy glass of the observation window. She lay still and quiet on the cot inside. So very different than how he'd seen her other times, full of someone else's life and motion while she drew a mark in to her flame. Most of those memories slid like insubstantial shadows through his mind, brushing against the edges of his consciousness but never solid enough he could grab hold of them and study them to be sure about them. The only thing that was certain was that she, like few others, was important to him.
He knew what was going to happen next, knew what the tanks did. If he'd had it left in him, he'd have cried for her and what he knew they would take away, but he'd lost that ability years ago. His left hand flexed - metal and cervos and microscopic gears that moved soundlessly.
Footsteps alerted him to movement in the hall, and he folded himself back into the shadows near the door like a good sentry rather than let them catch him looking at her. The last thing either of them needed was to be used as leverage against one another again.
*****
"Acting Director Hill. You say that you believe Director Fury was acting irrationally. On what do you base those suppositions? I see here you weren't on the Carrier at the time when Agent Barton brought the Black Widow aboard and subsequently escaped."
"Yes, ma'am. However, I did a thorough review of the logs, reports, and surveillance footage upon my return. I believe that Director Fury allowed personal issues from his previous involvement with another agent to color his judgment and actions in this case. He made decisions that went against established SHIELD regulations and codes, and created a situation that could've easily had international ramifications. He also committed extortion against two separate agents to try and manipulate the situation."
"You have no supporting evidence for any extortion claims," another voice, this time from the shadow on the far left, broke in.
"I have no supporting evidence, other than Agent Coulson's testimony in regards to the threats made towards him. However, in Agent Barton's case, Director Fury's orders to have the Black Widow terminated and the requirement that Agent Barton be the one to do it are fully documented. Even in a situation where her termination was in the best interests of SHIELD and the general public, due to the apparent nature of the connection between Agent Barton and Romanov, he should not have been the one ordered to carry it out." Maria almost felt like she was watching herself from afar, and she was holding onto that detachment with every fiber of her being. To accuse Fury of being emotionally involved and therefore unfit for duty, she needed to present herself as the picture of objectivity and reason. She was damn good at that, but the blacked out silhouettes instead of faces were unnerving.
"And what personal issues are you citing as being responsible for Director Fury's irrationality?" the woman asked evenly, like she was looking over something as mundane as a supply request.
Here was where it got tricky. Maria couldn't reveal that she had a copy of Fury's file, not the parts that referenced Agent Jin.
"It's fairly common knowledge at SHIELD that Director Fury had a similar bond in the past that went badly. I believe that incident, and the ensuing trauma and recovery, have given him an inability to view similar situations in a rational manner. He came to the apparent conclusion that Agent Barton would no longer be capable of loyalty to SHIELD if he formed such a bond and ordered a swift, irrevocable and potentially very destructive action. At that time, both Barton and the Black Widow were in custody and under guard. At that time, he'd made no move to indicate he was disloyal to SHIELD. In fact, the first and only action of his that implied disloyalty was escaping with her after he was put in an untenable position that threatened both of their lives. From a purely practical standpoint, may I also add that he may very well have been acting to protect intel, as the Black Widow had not yet been interrogated. Since she had come into custody willingly, it was Agent Coulson's understanding she was willing to provide important information on the Red Room."
"As a high ranking member of the organization, she would have pivotal information concerning their procedures, missions, and whereabouts of several of their agents."
"Yes, ma'am. That was my feeling as well. If she were willing to become an informant, or possibly even a double agent, it would be very short-sighted to kill her before utilizing her." Personally, it didn't sit well with Maria to view people quite that clinically, even though she did it well. The Council, on the other hand, always seemed to prefer and work strictly on a cost/benefit analysis of situations, and she was willing to play that game if it helped to protect the people under her command.
"We will review the information you've presented to us, Acting Director Hill, and convene a hearing in due course to finalize a decision. In the meantime, you are to remain in charge of SHIELD operations, and continue the search for Agent Barton and the Black Widow. Should you find them, we will allow you some discretion in offering the enemy operative the chance to be cooperative, and the appropriate disciplinary actions to take in regards to Agent Barton's actions. You are to forward us directly any copies of intel you receive on the Red Room, and a threat assessment regarding the nature of Barton and Romanov's bond."
"Yes, ma'am," Maria replied, snapping off a smart salute just before the screens went dark. She didn't allow herself the luxury of leaning against a nearby console, but she did take a moment to press against the muscles at the back of her neck where they were knotted from the tension of the past 36 hours.
Then she opened the door and stepped into the hallway where Coulson was waiting for her. "They've agreed to a hearing regarding Fury's actions, and left the decisions about how to handle Barton and Romanov to me."
"Now let's go find Barton."
*****
Natasha forced herself to sleep, hoping that she would dream.
This time it was a conference center full of glass and wood and chrome. She remembered the mission: she'd been sent to assassinate a French scientist who'd tried to replicate a deadly virus he'd stolen from them. She hadn't even had to seduce him, the idiot had left his drink out in the open unattended, and it had been child's play to slip the poison in. She'd watched to make sure that only he drank it and no other, and once he'd finished it, she'd blended into the background and vanished into the night.
Clint was sitting sprawled across one of the lobby chairs, waiting for her. Natasha took him in, looked for any sign of the injuries she'd seen on him in the interrogation room but here he was blessedly unharmed.
"One of your memories?" he asked, tossing a ball up in the air and catching it, over and over again. When she got close enough, she shot her hand out and grabbed it. In return he reached out and grabbed her, tugging her down onto his lap.
"Yes," she answered, trying to give him a stern look. "What are you doing?"
"Waiting for you. Got here a little while ago, when they injected me with something down in that lab."
"You seem remarkably calm about all of this," she observed.
"I've been busy thinking. Panic won't help with that. You know this place, these people a hell of a lot better than I do. Have they knocked you out too?"
She shook her head. "No, but they have me locked in a cell and under guard. A very specific guard." He could feel her tension and shifted beneath her until she settled into him further.
"An old friend?"
It took her a long time to answer. "I suppose you could say that, yes. As close as I've ever come to one. More importantly, he's one of the only operatives I can't overpower. James is... different. They've done things to him, enhanced him."
"What do you think they're going to do with us?"
"They're going to recondition us."
"But what does that mean?"
"They'll put us under, maybe for days, maybe for years. I don't know how it works, but they know how to rewire our brains. They'll take out things, memories, personality, skills, and then they'll put others in. Sometimes you're lucky, and they leave you mostly human, mostly real. Other times, all they leave is a... a shell. An empty mind with only one mission or goal within it. Usually a directive to kill." A delicate shudder went through her and he rubbed his hand in slow circles on her back.
"That sounds kind of horrible," he said and she just looked at him. "So what are our alternatives?"
"James offered to kill me. Supposedly, that should kill us both, but I don't know how the bond would affect you if you're already unconscious. It could simply leave you alive and broken."
He looked thoughtful for a minute, and she wondered if he were seriously considering her suggestion.
"What if SHIELD broke us out?"
She almost laughed. "Your people were trying to kill us first, remember?"
"No, my people were trying to capture us."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, fine, they were trying to kill us, but at least we know that's all they want to do, right? And depending... the way that Fury reacted, that wasn't normal. We don't usually do things like that. It's always possible he's come down off whatever weird vendetta he was on and come to his senses by now. But either way, that's better than being turned into puppets, right?"
She nodded. "I would rather be dead than some of the things they'll do to us, yes."
"How much do you trust your friend? If he offered to kill you before they could experiment on you, do you think he'd be willing to do something else for you?"
Natasha thought about it. James seemed genuinely concerned for her, and his offer had seemed sincere. She didn't precisely trust him, but he was the closest thing they had to an ally. "It's possible."
"I have a code. Every SHIELD agent gets one. If it gets sent out on just about any frequency SHIELD can pick it up and they'll know what it means and coming running. It means agent down, bring help immediately. They're already looking for us, and this would bring them in full force. Do you think he could get it out?"
"And then what? We're inside a heavily secured facility."
"Babe, you have no idea the kind of firepower SHIELD can bring to bear when it wants to. They have treaties with half a dozen European nations besides their own in-house units. Maybe, maybe if you were expecting an all out attack? Then you might have a chance of holding us off. But they won't be. Why would they?"
She rolled the idea around in her mind, because he had a point. Years of being unchallenged, of remaining hidden, had made aspects of the Red Room complacent. They had always focused more on experimentation and covert operations than active combat. They'd never done anything to draw attention to their major bases of operations. Oh, their security was top notch, but it wasn't designed to take on a full frontal assault such as the one Clint was implying SHIELD was capable of. She'd seen the carrier firsthand, and it was an impressive piece of technology and weaponry.
A quick death in battle, or even a simple and direct execution would be preferable to the complete loss of self the Red Room's procedures promised.
"Give me the code. I'll see what I can do."
*****
She woke up to James's hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. He caught the defensive hand she raised easily, and made a soft, soothing noise like he'd done such a thing before. Perhaps he had - if he were right then she didn't remember most of their history after all. He leaned in close so that he could hear her and she could hear him with only the barest breath of sound between them.
"It's almost time, Natasha. They're almost done with Barton and they'll be coming for you in a few hours. Have you thought anymore about what I offered you?"
"Yes. But I think I have a better plan. Do you think you could get a message out for me?"
He frowned. "What kind of message?"
"To Barton's people. To SHIELD. He gave me a code, it would act as a distress signal. He thinks it would be enough to bring them here." She kept her voice as low as she possibly could and hoped that they hadn't upgraded their audio capabilities since the last time she'd had someone in one of these rooms.
"I have access to communications, but Natasha, I don't think-"
"Don't. I have to try this first, James. If it doesn't work... if it doesn't work, if they do erase me, and you have the chance, then you have my permission to kill me then. But I have to take this chance."
"Your hope has always been your biggest weakness, Natashka. You know that, right?" The endearment sounded so familiar coming from him, and she wondered how many times she'd heard it that they'd made her forget. "I'll do this, for you. But I want a promise in return."
"Name it."
"If this works, and they come and take you and your agent away? Make sure to kill me before you go. I'm tired, and they've already broken my mind too many times. I know it and they know it, but they'll never stop. It will never end unless I put a stop to it, but the conditioning won't let me. I've tried," he admitted and her heart ached for him. "I trust you to do it right, Natashka. This one last thing."
She wanted to cry then. She wouldn't, there was too much at stake, but oh, how she wanted to. "Alright. I promise, if I have to, I'll make sure they don't get to keep you."
He studied her for a moment, then squeezed her hand and let her go.
"I'll see if they'll allow you any food or water, but it's unlikely with the procedure coming up," he said loudly enough she knew the speakers would pick it up. "I'll be back soon to escort you."
He left, and she knew without having to see it that another guard took his place. She lay back on the cot and stared at the ceiling, prepared to wait.
Interlude 5: Antiphon
Chapter 13