Marvel one-shots

11. Assassin P2 - Natasha Romanoff

It had taken three days before the woman had spoken a word. S.H.I.E.L.D had locked her in a cell and kept her under observation. Agent Barton had been sent in multiple times, trying to talk to the woman.

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On the morning of the woman's fourth day in custody, Clint took a tray of food to her cell, not expecting to get any words from the woman. He'd continuously been worrying. He knew something was off. Even before the dying man had told him about the brainwashing. The woman just wasn't in control of herself, he could tell. Not fully. When Clint opened the door, the dim light shone off the assassin's green eyes. She watched Clint as he placed the tray on the table.

"It's not much but it's better than what the guards are bringing you," he said.

The woman stayed sat down, back against the wall and knees tucked into her chest. Her once clean red hair was now dusty, as she hadn't taken up the offer of a wash. Clint went back towards the door, but he was stopped by a quiet murmur. Turning, he saw the woman had spoken. She repeated what she'd said.

"Natasha Romanoff," the woman repeated.

Clint's eyes flashed with uncertain relief.

"Agent Clint Barton," Clint introduced himself.

The woman continued to stare at him.

"Do you speak English?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Where did you come from?" Clint asked again.

"Red Room," Natasha replied with a struggle.

Clint narrowed his eyes and went over to Natasha, sitting down beside her. He gently took her arm and pulled up the sleeve. Clint held back a gasp. Her arm had a long cut down it - looking only a week old. He lightly traced it with his finger, but Natasha pulled her arm away quickly, wincing.

"What happened?" Clint asked.

Natasha looked sideways at Clint then tucked her knees further into her chest so she was curled in a ball.

"We're just trying to help, Natasha. You've killed so many people. S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't let that slide," Clint pressed.

As if a switch had been flipped in her brain, Natasha's head shot up. She lunged at Clint, pinning him down. Taking a quick second to register what had happened, Clint used his well muscled arms to grab Natasha's shoulder and slam her against the wall. Winded for less than a second, Clint scrabbled away, then went to grab the prisoner again. Natasha ducked, then slipped to the left, grabbing his arm and pulling him over. Clint barely managed to keep on his feet as he saw Natasha dash for the slightly ajar door.

"Oh no you don't," Clint muttered, leaping at Natasha, throwing her down.

She let out a brief yell before it was cut off as her head hit the wall and she passed out. Her body lay limp under Clint's. Agent Barton quickly stood up, cursing to himself. He didn't mean to hurt her. But she was acting oddly. Clint lifted Natasha in his arms and placed her on the bed, her arm hanging off the side. He moved her bright ginger hair out of the way as he checked her head wasn't bleeding. Letting out a sigh of relief, he put her wrists in restraints and sat down on the bed beside her. Taking the chance, Clint pulled up her sleeves and inspected the various scars and cuts she had. Natasha had been disarmed as soon as she had been brought into the facility as an unconscious enemy, so she didn't do this in the cell. Suddenly, Natasha thrashed her head, muttering. Clint looked over and noticed she was sweating. She must've drifted into sleep and was getting nightmares.

"No, no... please!" the red-head pleaded, getting louder. "I didn't! I didn't mess up! I swear I'll do better! I know, I'm nothing! Please, please!"

By this point, the shouting had attracted the attention of several agents. Fury pushed his way to the front, entering the cell and standing at the foot of Natasha's bed.

"What happened, Barton?" Nick demanded.

"I got her to talk, but she just... changed," Clint began, keeping his gaze on the desperate Natasha. "She tried to escape but I accidentally knocked her out, then she just started having a nightmare."

"What's her name?"

"Natasha Romanoff. She said she's from the Red Room," Barton replied.

Natasha screamed out in pain, clearly trying to get away from whatever was in her head.

"Please, please! Why me?"

"Sir, can I wake her up?" Clint asked, unable to watch her suffering for any longer.

Nick nodded. Clint shook her roughly and for a few seconds until her eyes shot open, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. She tugged at the restraints.

"You- you didn't?" Natasha whispered, staring straight at Clint.

"Didn't what?" Clint questioned.

"Cut my skin for failure," Natasha replied.

Clint exchanged a shocked glance with Nick.

"Miss Romanoff, we aren't here to hurt you. We're here to find out what the hell happened the other day, and why you are so good at assassinating," Fury assured.

Natasha's breathing slowed but she was still panicked.

"They control us..." she whispered, seeming harmless now.

"What about now?" Clint asked.

"There's a short period after unconsciousness... but I don't know how long it'll last," Natasha said, her voice wavering. "I don't want to hurt people, honest!"

Clint put his arm around Natasha as he saw her eyes darken and she tugged at the restraints again. She was lost to mind control again.

"Can you do something to permanently snap her out of it?" Clint asked.

Nick nodded.

"I'll ask the scientists. Usually I don't trust information this easily. But clearly this woman has been through more than we know currently. Brain washing isn't going to help us or her," he replied.

Clint stayed with Natasha as she tried to attack him.

"We'll fix this Natasha..." he promised. "I promise."

She looked at him with empty eyes.

"Hail Dreykov."