Chapter 18
Sleep comes with ease.
It’s waking that’s hard.
She doesn’t want to accept new realities of new violations, or not being herself and having her mind and body taken against her will.
No one challenges her, even as she sleeps into the afternoon. There’s a change in the guard as Steve takes Tony’s place and Bruce sits in Clint’s chair.
By evening she expects Clint to be back, to tell her to wake up, but he doesn’t.
Tony sits with his tablet next to her; reading something as she opens her eyes.
Now she can make her own decisions, and that she’s has autonomy, she doesn’t know what to do with it.
She knows she needs to go to the toilet, wants her hair away from her face, to shower and scrub herself down, but she doesn’t have the energy to make those decisions for herself.
No.
That’s wrong.
She can make the decision.
She just is stuck in it.
The voice at the back of her head tells her to wait for someone to tell her what to do. To tell her to get up and do it.
It’s too hard.
So she does what’s in her power and closes her eyes.
She’s just so tired.
.
There’s a dream; Natasha knows she’s dreaming but she can’t quite wake up.
Too much of what is before her isn’t real, but reality bends into fiction.
Dreykov sits in front of her on a throne, and she kneels at his feet.
The four men who she trusts with her life, sit behind her, faces stoic. They hold swords on their laps.
Waiting.
“What do you wait for?”
His voice is booming, echoing in her mind.
She can’t talk. Can’t move.
Even as he stands over her.
She stands, the movement slow, prying the fungus from her mind.
She can do this, she can kill him.
She failed before but not this time.
“Stop.”
She commands it to herself as much as to her oppressors.
Enough is enough.
Rising against the fog she growls and takes the sword from Clint.
She pushes it straight through Dreykov, her hand drenched in his warm blood, as he growls low to her.
“Good Little Natasha, now what?”
She pulls it out viciously and slits his throat on the blade.
.
Natasha notices his absence.
Feels it when he’s not there but completely unable to ask for him.
It’s his choice and even though she doesn’t understand; she respects it.
He’s there for when she sleeps, but it’s rare he’s there when she’s awake.
When he is, he offers gentle smiles and holds her hand tight. He doesn’t talk much, tending to her softly, as she tries to do more each day.
She misses him.
It’s Tony that eats meals with her, Bruce that plays chess with her and Steve that reads with her, or watches television whilst she waits for Clint to come late at night.
When he comes in, Natasha knows she can sleep, and she hopes that he does too.
On the day that she requests to be let out of monitoring, Tony is the one that helps her move.
She tells them she’s fine, each of her blood tests continuing to come back normal, her stamina and hatred for medical settings and procedures, she argues, is doing more damage.
Tony agrees with her, telling the doctor she’ll be monitored by Jarvis, nodding to Natasha that he isn’t lying. She nods back, allowing it.
“Tell Clint,” she says sadly, feeling stupid that she’s sad that he isn’t there. Tony nods and hands her a hoodie, watching as she shivers.
The short trip in the elevator exhausting her.
She worries it’s taking too long, this healing thing, but then Steve tells her a story of his youth and she becomes somewhat reassured.
It’s only been six days.
Six days since they pried the control of Dreykov from her mind.
Over a week since became free of the Red Room again, just over a month since this all started.
Exhaustion comes in waves.
She can’t stay awake long enough to see if Clint comes to her room to stay with her.
.
Clint walks to medical, finding Tony standing and waiting outside.
“She’s not here,” he says, arms crossed over his body.
“She’s in her room.”
He must see the worry that makes Clint look around, frantic, because he keeps talking.
“Where have you been? We thought, you needed time, that after last week; you had enough or that maybe you needed a break from caring.”
He pauses.
“That’s not a criticism. We saw how hard ordering her to do things was on you. But you should know, she doesn’t blame you. She asks where you are every time she wakes up. She asks if you’re going to eat with us. She keeps herself awake until you come in.”
Clint clenches his jaw. Guilt at every word Tony is throwing at him.
“She asked me to tell you, she’s in her room.”
He pushes himself off the wall, walking towards the elevator.
“You may not believe it, but she wants you close; and this? This avoidance? The separation from each other, based on your own assumptions?”
Tony rolls his eyes.
“You’re an idiot. And if you’re not already married, you should be.”
Clint how’s his head, knowing that all of Tony’s words are true.
“Go see your wife,” he goads.
“You’ve had enough of a pity party for yourself, it’s enough. Go tell her what’s on your mind, and give her a chance to make it okay, or to explain how she feels too. Okay?”
He reaches the elevator, pushing Clint inside.
“I don’t like being the adult in this relationship. Don’t make me do this again.”
The doors close and Clint nods at Tony, thankful for the push.
.
She’s asleep when he opens the door on her room. Seeing her makes his heart pull, the guilt underlying still holding him hostage despite Tony’s pep talk.
Stepping forward he gathers his courage, and hops onto the bed with her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to her sleeping form. “I’m so sorry.”
Clint feels so scared of hurting her again, hates that this is just the beginning.
He remembers all the deprogramming from the first time she got out of the Red Room, all the triggers, depression and despondency.
He just hopes, with all his heart that this isn’t like before.
He curls protectively near her, the king size bed allowing him to be close but not touching. He falls easily into sleep, hoping she’ll be okay with him being near her in the morning.
.
The pain from the burns wakes her like it always does. The last of the pain medications of the day before wearing off.
The heat emanates, and she rolls to her back, taking the pressure off the blistered skin.
It takes her a second to realise Clint is next to her.
He’s found her. He gives her the smallest of smiles and she reaches for his hand. He kisses her knuckles gently, mouthing hello.
A smile graces her lips as she closes her eyes.
He’s back.
.