Chapter 16
Dreykov’s anger burns hot. How dare she leave.
The two man assault that blew bits of his compound make him see red.
He’s going to get her back, and then he’s going to make her wish she’d never been born.
“Activate Midnight Protocol,” he growls at the six widows in front of him.
.
Tony watches carefully.
He wants to say so much, so instead directs all his angst to Bruce.
Twenty hours in Tony watches as Bruce separates compounds, uses the lab for all its glory.
He makes another coffee pot, hands Bruce a cup and starts again on his own tests.
“I think we almost have it,” he whispers, then louder.
“I think we almost have it.”
Bruce stands and stretches.
“Run it again,” he says, biting his lip.
“If we get it wrong, it could mess with the nanites and we could be back at square one.”
Tony nods, pulling up the schematics again, the computers showing biometrics with Natasha’s body and blood.
Bruce’s arms wrap around his body as he stands motionless watching the computers.
Tony knows that he’ll stay in this holding position until the test is complete.
Two hours to go.
.
He sits with her as the doctor casts her arm.
He doesn’t talk to her, more at her. Clint tries to get her to speak but it’s the wrong thing to say, she starts reciting the Red Room loyalty oath.
He orders her to stop almost immediately.
The cast is not big, more immobilizing than anything, and as the doctor finishes, he pulls down her sleeve and gentle kisses her thumb, hoping she’ll forgive the unwanted touch.
Clint wonders idly, how long it’s been since she slept, apart from the tranquilliser he shot her with, he feels like it’s likely been a long time since she slept without fear.
“Follow me,” he says gently, leading the way out of the medical.
He figures that if he has any chance of helping her sleep, it’s not going to be in a place she hates.
Instead, Clint walks to her room, a place that she’s set up to be her own.
He’s slept on her blue couch more times than he can count, and her bed is more than ready for rest.
“Lay down,” he prompts.
She does, a flash of fear, comes and goes as she does as he asks.
“Sleep,” he says.
He thinks he hears a huff, as her eyes close.
Still he talks, as he places a blanket over her, promising to watch over her, then settles on the couch with another heavy blanket.
.
The distress she feels is like nothing she’s felt in a very long time.
Bits of her are broken.
An amalgamation of parts that don’t fit together or held together by the thinnest of threads.
Her mind won’t turn off and he’s ordered her to sleep.
She can’t do it, but the order was clear.
Turning to the right, he’s reading a book out loud.
Words are not even penetrating through her distress as she works to breathe.
No matter what his words are, unless he changes the order, he can’t help.
Help is for those that have something inside of them that’s not just a black hole.
She’s stuck in indecision and can only think of one moment to the next, one minute, one second.
He told her to sleep.
She can’t.
The disconnect is rife in her body.
There’s only one thing she can think, but he also told her to lie down.
She knows what to do.
It’ll be better than this minute to minute survival. Old patterns, things tested that are true, it would be easier with handcuffs.
Conditioned from a lifetime of punishment, it’s what she needs now, to feel nothing and retreat into the deeper recesses of her mind.
The stress position is more difficult lying down, but as she lays prone, with her arms crossed behind her, legs crossed over each other and head to the side, she can feel the pain ground her.
The uncomfortableness of the position does more in helping her mind stop thinking than his order did, she wants it to stop but knows the only way out is sleep.
.
A message comes through to Clint’s phone.
“It’s done, we’ve found an antidote that we think will help. We are just trying to synthesise it so that it’s safe. Two hours max.”
Hope holds him hostage.
It’s been a long fucking day.
.
Lena laughs as she passes Natasha, sprinting to the finish line.
Morning runs are the freest of times.
The guards are usually tired, the 5am wake up leaving them yawning as they march the girls to the track.
“Beat you,” she says with a grin.
Natasha laughs with her.
“Where’s Jace?”
Two other girls pass the finish line, as Jace round the corner, grinning as she sees Natasha and Lena.
“Slow,” Lena berates her.
“Gotta learn to sleep like the dead like you,” she replies to Natasha.
They all laugh as the last girl finishes her run, and meet the guard to take them to breakfast.
“Teach me how to sleep like you,” yawns Jace as she sits.
Natasha laughs.
“You don’t want to know how I make myself sleep.”
Jace sits next to her friend
“Alright, keep your secrets, tomorrow I’ll beat you.”
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