The Punching Bag
Thud!
The punching bag took another blow. James didn’t even bother to wrap his hands.
Thud!
He couldn’t get the image out of his head. The bullets hitting her, piercing her skin.
Thud!
She fell onto the ground, already bleeding out.
Thud! Thud!
Her pulse was weak, eyes closed, unresponsive.
Thud! Thud!
He was transported into a different place. Into the past memories. She was in them, yet they were nightmarish and painful.
Thud!
She had failed once, in sparring against Yelena Belova (a girl training to be the next Black Widow, only a year younger than Natalia). James knew she had an injury, she had fractured her ankle.
Thud!
It was no excuse, Madame B took her to the room below.
Thud!
The room with no windows.
Thud!
He was told to follow.
Thud!
They chained her.
Thud!
And a man entered the room.
Thud! Thud!
He watched from the gated off area. It felt like he was in a cell.
Thud! Thud!
The man swung a whip.
Thud!
It was punishment, just for him to watch and not react.
Thud!
One slash.
Thud!
Two slashes.
Thud! Thud!
Three slashes.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Four, five, eight, ten, fifteen, twenty.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
The numbers climbed, he didn’t make an effort to count anymore.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
But he heard the sound. The sound of the leather strip making contact onto her skin.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
He didn’t wince, once. Madame B was watching him, testing him.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Natalia never cried.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
She took every slash with grace while his belly filled with rage.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
They kept on hitting her.
Thud! Thud!
He couldn’t make them stop! He should’ve made them stop!
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
He had failed her! He had hurt her! He didn’t protect her!
THUD!
The punching bag flew across the room, just as Steve had opened the door. The blonde looked from James to the punching bag and back again.
“I’ve been there too before,” he sighed. “Not too long ago.”
“Punched your worries away?” James scoffed sarcastically.
“Something like that,” Steve nodded.
James sat down, exhausted. One look at his flesh hand showed proof of how hard he was punching. His fist was purple, and he hadn’t even felt anything. He was too lost in that memory to feel pain.
“You look shaken up,” Steve observed and took a seat on a bench along the wall next to James.
“That’s putting it lightly,” he shook his head at even the thought of what he had just remembered. Now with more memories of Natalia coming back, not all of them were good. Many of them were almost torture.
“You should eat something, maybe rest. She’ll be out of the operation by tomorrow morning, if not sooner,” Steve sighed.
“No, I need to be awake. Just incase. Just incase it doesn’t go well,” James argued.
Steve looked over at him. He eyed the sweat dripping down his forehead as well as the shake his flesh hand was making as he reached for a water bottle and took a sip. He had seen a past memory, Steve assumed.
“If something happens, you’ll be the first to know, I assure you that, Buck,” he stated.
“I…I…” he still shook his head, looking down at his legs.
“Please at least spend some time to rest or something, get changed too,” he encouraged.
James knew Steve wouldn’t let up, so he relented and stood. “Fine. No guarantees on the sleeping part, though.”
Steve just gave James an encouraging smile, and they got up, then headed up to the living room in the compound.
***
If the Avengers hadn’t been walking on eggshells around him before, they definitely were now. They always had given him space, yet now it was blatantly obvious and taken to a whole other level.
Wanda and Vision had turned in for the night when James entered the living room. They were in the middle of watching a movie, but paused it, and eventually turned it off, once he arrived.
“We’ll see you tomorrow, it’s getting late,” Wanda had explained with a smile. It seemed a bit forced and James could easily read her closed off body language.
“Goodnight, Sargent Barnes,” Vision nodded respectfully.
At least the android didn’t try to hide the pitiful expression.
James had already taken a shower, by Steve’s request, and was dressed in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tank top. He sat on the couch, not knowing what to do. The past memories were becoming almost overpowering. He enjoyed experiencing the good ones, the times spent with Natalia, yet they were all laced with killings, missions, assassinations or ruined by the presence of Madame B or his other handlers. And the horrid ones? The ones where Natalia got punished? Hurt? The ones where he couldn’t look out for her? Those hurt even more. Those hurt more than the memories of his own punishments, and practically tied with the memories of the brainwashings. Though, his killings were by far the most horrifying memories, since it was just a reminder that he had caused so much death and destruction.
He decided to pick up the book that was lying on the coffee table, not knowing really what it was. “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the title read. She had been reading the book for the past month. He personally didn’t know it, yet it must’ve been pretty well known and common for even Tony to comment about it a few days prior.
He flipped through the pages, looking through it aimlessly, not really reading it, more just staring at the words. His mind was elsewhere. It was tired, yet restless. The book proved to be a useless distraction, and he set it down again.
A wave of exhaustion washed over him. Why didn’t he sleep the two nights before? It was partly from the fear of having to deal with nightmares again, yet he had Natasha to console him. It was something else. Something in his mind just wouldn’t allow him to fall asleep, and now he was beyond tired.
He tried to fight it, yet sleep evaded him and soon enough he found himself dreaming another memory. A continuation of that same memory that plagued his thoughts while he had thrown punches at that bag in the training room.
o0o
(about five months after the graduation ceremony)
After what felt like too long, too long for James to control his expression, Madame B raised her hand for the man to stop.
“I hope you learned your lesson, Widow. You must become undefeatable, even with injury. Yelena shouldn’t have beaten you, you’re older, more experienced. You don’t just earn the name Black Widow and preform like trash. That gets you killed. Understood?” she asked.
“Understood, Madame,” Natalia said, her voice didn’t even waver. James marveled at how she never showed her pain, yet one look from her eyes and he could see it all. He had always been able to read her eyes.
“Retreat to your quarters, both of you,” the madame stated. James nodded at her curtly and went on his way.
***
He didn’t stay in his quarters long. Not with the image of Natalia getting beaten blaring in his mind. Once it was past midnight, did he sneak out of his room. Stealthy, as if preforming a mission, he snuck through the corridors, down the grand staircase, made a quick stop at the infirmary, and then walked through the hallways on the third story. There, he stood in front of Natalia’s room. He didn’t even have to knock, she knew he was there.
Silently, she opened the door, just enough to let him inside, then closed it again. Usually, she would go to his quarters, since his door actually had a lock, yet James had decided to seek her out this night. He knew her too well, she wouldn’t tend to her own wounds, just wash herself like normal and say that they’ll heal with time. She most definitely wouldn’t come to him just to bandage some wounds, which he didn’t take to offense, she just had too much pride to do so.
“Are you okay?” he asked first. Already lifting her nightshirt above her head. She stood in front of him, letting him rid the garment, leaving her just in her sports bra and sleeping shorts.
“I’m fine,” she stated, quietly, yet James knew it was far from the truth. She always said that, that she was “fine". He turned her around, then assessed the damage done to her back and side. She was covered in red welts, some had broken the skin and were bleeding, others seemed to start to swell.
James quickly took out an ointment cream from his pocked and rubbed it onto his fingers. “Sit down,” he said softly. She did, still with her back facing him.
He gently began to apply the cream onto the marks the whip had left behind. A large cut on her lower back made him wince. He applied extra cream onto that one.
“You’ll get in trouble if they found out you stole from the infirmary,” she sighed. The majority of the time they had sat in silence as he dotted the ointment onto her wounds. A calming silence that comforted him, almost. Almost. The slashes from the beating ruined the moment they finally had alone.
“It’s worth it. This could get infected,” he explained.
“I’ve survived worse.”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve proper care.”
Even with her back turned, he could tell she smiled at his remark. Lightly, faintly, yet he still had earned a smile.
“I should’ve done better,” she continued. Her face turned serious again.
“You were injured, you did the absolute best you could,” he explained.
“Not good enough. I have to be better,” she shook her head.
“Hey, look at me,” he said. She did, waiting attentively on what he was going to say. “You are the most skilled agent I know. You’re the most skilled widow in this entire building. Don’t let her get into your head, it can ruin you. I should know.”
She nodded solemnly. It was true, they could try to resist Madame B’s physiological tormenting, yet they both knew the horrible truth. Until they would break out, break free of their chains to the Red Room (like that was even an option), they would ultimately be under her control. They would suffer her torments, suffer her punishments, do as she asked… until they met death.
That’s at least what they thought at the time.
o0o
James woke up with a start. He felt the sense that somebody was watching him, and quickly he was on high alert. He calmed down, though, when he realized it was Clint.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized.
“It’s alright. About time I woke up,” James muttered and looked at the clock near the base of the TV. Nearly two in the morning.
“Couldn’t sleep, too anxious,” the archer explained while propping his feet up against the coffee table and picking up the remote. “Wanna watch something?”
“A distraction would be nice. There’s nothing I can do anyways, so anything to stop me from continuously worrying would help,” James shrugged.
“Good, because I hear that Joy is good, came out earlier this year, just haven’t watched it,” he explained.
“What’s it about?”
“The woman who invented the Joy Mops. My wife, Laura, recommended it,” he explained.
“Yeah, I think I can handle that,” James shrugged. The thing he least wanted was a scene that would accidentally spark some sort of painful memory. So, they watched the movie.
Still, it did little to distract him. His eyes never focused on the characters, his mind never settled on the plot, just on Natalia. While Joy was on QVC, all he could see was her lying in his arms. When the credits rolled, his thoughts were only on how long it was taking for him to receive news. Any news at that. Was she okay? Was it supposed to take this long? Yet the news did finally come…