Chapter 22
Jace stares at the man that’s so adamant in protecting Natasha.
She’s confused by the way he acts, the way he speaks his mind and ignores the threats that drip from Dreykov’s mouth.
When Natasha breaks through the ceiling, and then comes to realise what the other girls all know; her heart breaks.
They’re all powerless here.
Jace knows she can only follow direct instructions, but over the time she’s been given the injections she’s found loopholes.
They say ‘fight’ but they don’t say how hard. She pulls punches and doesn’t cut so deep with the knife.
They have rules and orders but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have power too.
The man looks desperate as Natasha is tied up, pulling against his bindings.
If she can give him something to loosen them a little, maybe he can escape.
They’re both very lucky here in the hanger that it’s just her, Max, Lotte and Grace.
Lotte and Grace are young, stupid and have no idea what they’re in for.
They are Dreykov’s current favourites to be alone with, to travel with as companions, and they haven’t quite figured out how to manipulate him; only die inside as they do everything he asks.
Jace is just thankful it’s not her.
Max is a pit bull, ready to die for the good of the country and she supposes that Dreykov trusts that blind compliance.
Jace doesn’t know why she’s here, although she likes gun running assignments, it’s better than the oppression of the Red Room.
It feels more like she’s a pawn in this game, and she doesn’t like the uncomfortable feelings that being around Dreykov and Natasha make her feel.
She hasn’t felt strong emotion in such a long time that she wants to escape it.
Bucking against the hand cuffs, Dreykov watches Natasha as she tries to extricate herself, his amusement clear on his face.
Jace wants to tell her they can’t hurt him. None of the widows can.
But, the realization dawning on her, the blonde man can.
The chance that Jace has always waited for is in her grasp. She feels like she has been biding her time for this - the way out, a path to freedom has led her here.
She takes a breath.
The man seems to be on Natasha’s side, the affection clear as he yells and makes empty threats.
Jace’s brain fixates on the thought. She can get him free, he can free Natasha, he can kill Dreykov.
Assessing the situation, she doesn’t see a way out for Natasha as the other widows hold her down, Dreykov’s attention on her alone.
She inches towards the man, his arms pulled back against the chair as she produces a knife and presses it into his hands.
His body stills in shock, the strong string of profanity stopping for an instant before he starts again, seeing what Jace is trying to do.
She can’t help him more than that. Her training and chemicals won’t allow her.
.
The knife is small in his hands. The widow with brown hair is already at the other side of the room, like it never happened.
Jace? he wonders. Natasha’s stories of the brown haired assassin always leaving an impression that she was good and kind, just like Natasha; but her circumstances in life had been less than ideal.
He works the knife between the ties gently, continuing to watch Dreykov as he continues his tirade to Natasha, threatening her with a world of pain and ugliness as he hits her, punctuating his remarks.
The two younger widows standing behind the chair she is tied to holding her so the chair doesn’t flip under his wrath.
The other widow cocks his head to him, and he wonders if Natasha has stories about her.
She looks about Natasha’s age. He continues to yell, asking him to stop, his voice almost hoarse even as he no longer even thinks about what he is yelling about.
Almost.
He’s going to kill Dreykov first, then he’s going to free Natasha.
Adrenaline pumps through him as the last strap breaks.
.
Natasha takes the hits. If he’s focusing on her, he won’t hurt Clint.
Then.
It stops.
A gasp and Dreykov’s body drops, a knife in his back as his eyes roll and he clutches uselessly to pull it out.
Clint.
The girls holding her stop, and they move forward to attack him.
Failsafe. She knows this order.
Without the girls around him, she’s able to flip the chair, breaking it as she twists her arm, feeling the bone displace again, wondering if she’s broken it more.
Ignoring the pain, Jace gives her a look as she moves forward to attack.
Standing back to back with Clint, she rotates so he’s facing Jace. She doesn’t want to fight her. She wants to save her.
“It’s a failsafe, they’ll keep attacking you,” she tells Clint spitting blood and feeling it on her face.
“Save her, I’ll be okay,” Natasha stands in front of the three widows as Clint moves to fight Jace.
Even he can feel that she is pulling punches.
“I don’t want to do this,” she tells him, a punch narrowly missing her head. “The order to kill anyone who attacks him always stands. We must always follow.”
Clint knows.
He has a plan.
“It’ll be okay,” he assures. He feints left, narrowly avoiding her charged widow bites. He uses Natasha’s move, climbing her body locking her in a full nelson, choke hold, holding her writhing body against his.
“It’ll be okay,” he reiterates, as he holds onto her, squeezing hard, her body slowly stopping movement, giving into the inevitable darkness.
He’s going to help her like she helped him.
Just like he helped Natasha.
Cornered by the three widows, he shoots Jace’s gun into the air, pointing it at them as he shouts.
“Hey!”
The older widow turns first, running toward Clint as he throws the gun to Natasha, not wanting to make the decision to put her down permanently.
Natasha has no such compunction, shooting her in the back, and then pistol whipping the other girl in the head.
Left with one widow against two avengers, the fight is not fair, both of them working easily together as Natasha shoots her in the leg, then punches her, knocking her out, her body inert on the floor.
His attention to Dreykov is only to check if he’s dead, but the cockroach of a man has more lives than a cat as he crawls to the door.
“I can’t do it,” Natasha tells him, pointing the gun to Dreykov, unable to pull the trigger.
Clint snarls.
“Do you want me to?” he asks.
Natasha nods.
Gently, he places his hands over hers so they are holding the gun together, then fingers entwined they shoot him together.
First in the head, and then in the heart.