Mind Games (Avengers Wrong Number Fugitive [Natasha Romanoff x teen])

9. Friendly Foe

A/N I really need answers for my own anxiety-driven brain... do you like this book? I think I'm getting a lot of readers early on (WHICH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR) but I don't know if I'm losing some people's interests. Is there anything you want to see that I can provide?

Nat's POV

I nudge the girl awake. All the medical I needed for her has been provided, thanks to Stark, of course. Now, as she stirs in her sleep under the heavy tree, I make sure her slumbers last no longer.

I push August's shoulder and she's evidently startled by her new surrounds. But she's quick to adjust as she pushes herself into a sitting position, resting her body against the trunk. Her head lies back, and I do the best I can to ignore the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She doesn't deserve the pity I failed to let dissolve.

When she speaks I cut her off. "Why am I not-"

"At the Avengers Compound? Being monitored and interrogated?" She nods in response. "Honestly because we know you know how to cheat the system. You've had enough interrogations to know how to dodge questions. Already I've noticed you've done it to me. If we want answers we need to make you trust us. Mind reading will get us no where with the unknown capacity of your ability and the trust we want to build. I'm sure someone wants you on the Avengers, it just depends who. I won't lie to you, Augustine."

My long string of words falls deaf at first, as all she does is correct me.

"August."

I look at her as she sighs, staring at the cuffs I put on her as a precaution. Of course they're power deafening, SHIELD isn't stupid, nor am I. 

"And how am I supposed to know you're telling the truth, Widow? How can I be positive I'm not in some simulation? You're telling me you're wasting your time on some nobody? I'm supposed to believe you're actually here and this isn't some digital manipulation?" She huffs, bringing her hands, though cuffed together, to her face. The power dampeners have gotten more advanced, now presented in normal handcuffs. They're radiating some sort of smell or sound that only enhanced individuals take effect to. Comes in handy when a manifesting fifteen year old shows up.

The questions August asks are intrusive. A simulation created to extract information while messing with your mind on a degree hard to recover from. You feel safe, secure, and believe you're where they say you are. You believe lies that are meant to make you feel peace. Or something so terrifying, just to learn it's false and you gave away your greatest weapon. Secrets and knowledge. The manipulation August's practically saying she's experienced is a branch of interrogation. But I'd be lying if I said this idea hadn't crossed my mind on Augustine. I've had similar experiences in this field, but nothing so real and something so... awake.

So I choose my words carefully, knowing I can't prove to her she's safe when what she's experienced is meant to breach your security. "I cant prove to you this isn't a simulation, August. That isn't something I've faced in such depth. But I can offer you a friend. And... I think I might remember something about a bombing. It's all cleared from my memory though, but I'll tell you if I remember. I'm trying to be someone you can trust."

Another nod is the only words I see. 

"Do you want go on a walk?" I ask.

Her head shake is answer enough.

I try again. "Is it okay if I ask you some more questions?" 

A shrug is all I get in response yet again. But I take it as a yes.

"What've you been doing for the last two years?" I prop myself against the trunk next to her, but far enough away to give her the space she's quietly begging to have.

"I've been running from SHIELD and Hydra and going after people who have done me or someone else wrong. I'm trying to make the world a better place by my morals. I don't go after anyone who doesn't deserve it or see it coming."

I was running like her, then found an organization that led me down a safer path. I was lucky enough to have friends on my side, seems as if she might as well. It's like our stories aren't so far apart. 

I can't help but prod further. "So you still kill?" 

"Of course, it's been my life since ten."

I want to be mad at her for that answer. For how fast she could reply to my question with no remorse or hesitation. But I can't, because I thought the same way from a younger age than ten. How could I be angry? She knows no different.

Before I can respond, she does so herself. "It was never my intention to hurt anyone, but I had no choice then and I don't know how not to now."

I wish I didn't relate. I wish I knew how to respond.

"I know you've had the same experience but I don't want your help." She says, although it's obvious she's lying. She rubs her eyes as if there's more tears threatening to spill. I can feel the emotion radiating off her. 

People are surprised when I say I'm an empath. A broken killer, someone taught to show nothing but stoic anger. How could I feel what others do when I had to fight first and ask questions later? When I already can't comprehend my own? The answer is you're born one way. They can break you, sure. But what makes you you isn't able to be threaded into a different story. Now by that logic, the point now is to find what August is made from before Hydra.

"Okay," I tell her. "I can't help someone who doesn't want it."

She's done talking again. The only acknowledgement I get is another small nod of her head like before.

"Is it okay if I keep asking questions? Easy stuff, not anything about the possible bombing, or your life after choices." After choices. How did I come up with something so fitting?

"Sure, Black Widow."

"Call me Natasha, or Nat. Or any variation of my name. Black Widow is getting annoying."

She looks up with a small smile. Another mood swing. "Alright, 'Tasha."

I reciprocate the action. "What's your favorite color, Auggie?"

"Blue."

"Favorite animal?"

"Dog."

"Chocolate or Vanilla?"

"Chocolate."

"Favorite food?"

"Chocolate."

"Chocolate lover I see," I nudge her shoulder and she flinches. 

She flinched.

"No touching please." Her voice is back to monotone as she stares out into nothing. She's been through hell and isn't out yet.

She's younger me and I need to protect her. I need to help her story so it's a better version of mine.

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August's POV

The dot thing buzzed. Abigail is tracking me. She'll be here soon... and I can get away from someone trying to be my friend. I don't want to be friends, Black Widow. Or Natasha. Nat, 'Tasha. Natalia. I don't care.

⧗⧗⧗⧗

Nat's POV

Shit. I remember the bombing. How am I going to tell her?

A/N

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