Natasha woke up with a searing pain in her neck and feeling like she'd been stuck underneath a collapsed building. Nurses were fussing over the bandages on her neck and an IV was stuck into the inside of her elbow. Her head pounded as she tried to look around but someone pushed her head firmly back into place.
"Now Agent Romanoff, you've had a good scrape this time. Out for a week. You'll be in here for quite some time. How'd you get this one?" the nurse asked.
How did I do this? The memories came trickling back. A prick on the back of her neck. The feeling of tiredness. Seeing the truck driver crossing over onto her lane. Not moving away from him. Moving into his path. The explosion in the middle of the road that sent the truck into the ditch and Natasha veering sharply to avoid it, careening into the truck. Pulling herself to the stream she could hear. Taking her helmet off and staring blankly at the missing glass. Falling unconscious. Pain. So much pain.
"I..." Natasha frowned. She knew how it happened. Explosion and being drugged. So why didn't it feel right? "There was an explosion in the road, grenade I think. I rode into the truck, the truck drove into the ditch." She leaned back and thought. "Probably James," she murmured.
"And who is James?" the nurse asked cheerfully. "You don't mean Clint, do you?"
"No, no, I mean James. James Buchanan Barnes. He was my trainer in the Red Room," Natasha said.
The nurse - Diana, her name tag reads - looked on curiously, feeling like if she said something Natasha would stop.
"He was my best friend until I defected and then he was brainwashed again. We all were. After each mission. Or each Monday," Natasha continued. "Maybe I should've stayed. He said I was his anchor to earth, that if I left he'd just keep spiralling until he hit the sun."
Diana lets out a quiet breath, almost silent but it's enough to bring Natasha back to reality. Natasha looked over at Diana and her cheeks colour slightly, barely anything, but Diana's a trained nurse, has been for almost fifty years, and she notices these things.
"Sorry," Natasha said quietly, eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling.
"Perfectly alright," Diana said, like nothing ever happened. Natasha gave her a small smile just before the machine above her head started beeping like crazy.
Natasha stares at her arm where another needle had been poked in, taped over so she can't pull it out. Lots of fluids were travelling down the thin tube. Her vision was blurry. Someone leaned over into her line of sight and told her to stay awake, don't worry, help will be here soon. Not soon enough.
Diana swore as Natasha faded out of consciousness. A few more nurses were hurrying over, trying to help. It worked, in the end. They stabilised Natasha and woke her up again as soon as possible.
Two days later, Natasha snuck free. She headed down to the firing range and fired until the magazine ran out. The tension eased out of her until she was more relaxed than she'd been in a long time. She would kill James. And then she would ask questions later.
Some habits are harder to forget than others.