Title:Mend (2/2)
Author: anuna_81
A Gift For: daxcat79
Rating: teen-ish
Warnings: mentions of violence, past abuse, mind manipulation and everything shady Red Room might do to one of their “assets” (and I assume, SGA Replicators aren’t much different from RR.)
Pairings: Clint/Natasha, established.
Summary/Prompt Used:crossover between Stargate and Avengers.
Authors Notes: In this universe Natasha has been injected with nanotechnology while she worked for Red Room, in order to help her body heal faster.
My dear giftee, I hope you’ll enjoy this crazy roller coaster of wackyness. I did my best to write you something exciting. It was a daunting task at times, considering how I found myself in a genre I don’t often write, but despite that I am hoping you’ll be pleased. To everyone else, I fear this fic won’t make much sense if you haven’t seen Stargate Atlantis, at least first three seasons of it (and have knowledge on the shameful way they gotten rid of their leading lady, but let’s not go into that now). But – if you do know it – I hope you’ll enjoy this crazy ride.



“What is Barton doing with those two ladies?”

The question was innocent enough, but it made Tony turn around and search the crowd with his eyes. “Look over there,” Steve instructed and Tony looked in the direction Steve indicated.

Okay, that was just plain unfair. Since when did Hawkeye turn into a ladies man? Tony narrowed his eyes, the height difference between Clint and the woman with long, shiny black hair was comical. The other woman, Tony realized, looked familiar — there was something that rung a bell, something about her posture, the way she held herself.... just something.

And then she turned around.

“Oh holy shit,” he said and Steve frowned at the curse.

“What is it?”

“That woman is dead,” Tony stated, staring at none other but Elizabeth Weir. Because seriously? That woman was after his ass for so long, and then she just... vanished. A few years back he read an obituary even, a long, well written article in a newspaper, and he was surprised how much it shook him to learn that she was dead. Despite her work, despite how much trouble she gave him through her years of being an activist and anti weaponry lobbyist, Tony appreciated her. A lot. She was best of the best, dammit.

Right now, he was in a state of mild shock. How was this even possible?

“She doesn’t look dead,” Steve countered. Tony glanced at him.

“Well, I assume there can be exceptions,” he said and Steve rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance in the gesture. “That lady —,” Tony said and then fell silent and it struck him how she didn’t seem to have changed at all. Her hair was a bit longer, but everything else looked just as Tony remembered. Just like on a photograph.

“Who is she?” Steve asked, obviously intrigued.

“She’s a famous diplomat and anti weapons activist.”

“Ah,” Steve nodded.

“Yes, exactly. Only, she almost convinced me making weapons was wrong.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “That, I’m sure, was impressive,” he said and if Tony didn’t know better, he’d say Steve was poking fun at him. Well, maybe there was some hope for Captain Icicle after all.

“Yeah I know. That’s why I’m wondering what’s Barton doing with her. I mean it’s Barton, and he’s practically... a living breathing weapon himself.”

Steve shook his head and smirked. “Aren’t we all?”

“What?”

“Stark,” Steve’s expression was annoyingly mild and amused, like he was talking to a child that didn’t quite understand something, but then it sobered. “Aren’t we all weapons?”

“Point there, Captain Awesome,” Tony pushed the sudden wave of emotions into the back of his mind. It still prickled him from there, mind you. Steve Rogers might have slept through the most exciting years of the twentieth century and still didn’t know the difference between the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, but damn him, he could throw a punch with things he said. “Okay, time to sweep in and sweep those ladies off their feet,” Tony nudged Steve. “I’m going to introduce you to the amazing Doctor Weir.”

And thus Tony crossed the room and made his way towards Clint and his two companions, and Steve followed.

“Ladies.... Barton,” Tony greeted and when Weir turned around she didn’t seem surprised to see him. At all. But, she probably shouldn’t be considering it was Tony’s party after all. The other woman whom he didn’t know had something in her eyes that made him uncomfortable, despite her insanely attractive appearance. She was standing very close to Barton who looked... well, there was something strange about him.

But then, Barton could be strange in general. (Just like Romanoff. Talk about a match made in heaven.)

“Hello, Tony,” Elizabeth greeted and smiled.

“Hello to you too, Elizabeth. It’s, ah, quite a surprise to see you.”

“To see me alive, you mean?” she replied, sounding pretty amused, although there was an edge to her words.

“Well, actually yes,” he said and narrowed his eyes at her. The smirk she threw his way was dark and Tony didn’t like it very much. “I didn’t expect to see you at my party.”

“Funny thing, Tony, I was invited. Except if someone else is handling the invitations for you?” she smirked again. “It can be quite embarrassing if you don’t know who’s coming to your own party. Even dangerous,” she added and her voice gained a shadow Tony definitely didn’t like.

“Pepper would have told me if she —” he stopped before he was able to finish. Of course Pepper would have told him. Pepper knew who Elizabeth Weir was. Or is.

“Perhaps it’s not Miss Potts who handled the invitations?” Elizabeth’s eyebrow rose and Tony felt a wave of unease go through his body. He didn’t like this, because how the fuck was she supposed to know Pepper was handling invitations? He was too smart and his mind was too quick and there weren’t many options. Steve tensed slightly next to him and Barton just didn’t look normal.

“What are you —” he gave her a bright, fake smile, “trying to say?”

Her own smile matched his; it was equally too bright and equally fake.

“You’re a smart man, Tony Stark. I always thought that.”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re saying.”

“It’s not me, Tony, that you should be worried about,” she deadpanned.

That was when Barton decided to join the conversation.

“I’d hear what she has to say, Stark,” he said. There was something odd about him. Some sense of urgency on his face, and he didn’t look comfortable at all.

“I would add my agreement to that suggestion,” the tall, dark haired woman standing next to Barton suddenly spoke. She had an accent Tony couldn’t place and a smile which reminded him of a cat who played with a canary. Steve shifted next to him, and Tony sensed the supersoldier was alert and ready to act. Act how, Tony thought, considering these were two women in elegant evening gowns acting like they’ve been threatening him.

Well, almost.

“We will require a less occupied space for the conversation,” Elizabeth stated. Tony looked from her to Barton, who looked like one of his bows. Which was Not Good.

“And what if I don’t like you crashing my party after you apparently hacked your way into invitations? And even more importantly, what if I really don’t like your attitude right now?”

“Stark —”

“Not now, Rogers —”

“He’s trying to tell you that you should know there’s a gun pointed at my back,” Barton said.

So the tall one didn’t find him handsome after all? Just available to shoot at, apparently.

“Elizabeth Weir,” Tony let his face turn into an expressionless mask. “This is not how I remember you working.”

“Desperate times require desperate measures,” she said and then looked at Barton. “I’m truly sorry.”

“I bet,” Barton answered.

“She means it, honey,” the dark haired woman added and poked his back.

At that point Steve made a move. It was just like him, to try to intervene in this bizarre situation, even though it meant attacking a woman — but he was promptly prevented from reaching his goal.

By another woman.

May it never be said that women weren’t capable of kicking ass. Steve obviously knew that, if yelp he let out was any indication.

“Hey, what —?”

“I’m sorry Captain Rogers,” Elizabeth said as she held him, her slender fingers wrapped securely around his wrist and all Tony could do was watch; just watch as her schooled expression of a diplomat became something steely and determined, something he knew way too well. “I’m not here to play games, Tony. People are in danger,” she said and that did sound like her — the words were right but the melody was all wrong.

“I believe that,” Tony replied sarcastically.

“Stark,” Barton sounded like he was losing patience and it actually seemed that the gun poking his back wasn’t the thing that disturbed him. “It’s Natasha,” he said darkly, but there was an undertone to his voice, one that sounded pretty desperate. Tony looked at Steve.

“I don’t like this either, but it seems they have a tactical advantage,” Steve said grimly.

“Actually, it may not be us who have the advantage,” Elizabeth said and there was a warning in her tone. She eyed Tony and he looked back at her, hating the way his hand was being forced. “Do we have an agreement?” she asked and Tony found himself nodding, wondering where Pepper was, and where the hell Banner and Thor were. And speaking of his team, where the hell was Romanoff??

*

“Start explaining,” Tony said and Elizabeth smiled inwardly. He was mostly like the man she remembered — he was impatient when he was uncertain, and he definitely didn’t like when strings were taken from his hands. She looked at Barton as he took his gun from Vala’s hand and placed it back into it’s strap under his jacket. Elizabeth couldn’t blame him for being pissed off, but she had to get this back on track.

“For the record, I don’t trust you,” Tony said, looking at Elizabeth and she nodded slowly. Of course he didn’t trust her. She didn’t really need him to, as long as he, and all of them, did what she asked.

“I understand that. Yet, you’re reasonably worried about the things I told you,” she said and Barton nodded.

“What things?” Tony snapped.

“Nanotechnology,” she said and she could see how Tony’s face changed a few shades, going towards pale. He looked at Barton, and then back at her.

“Nanotechnology?” Steve Rogers repeated. His patience wasn’t spent yet, Elizabeth thought, but he wanted answers. Of course they wanted answers; anyone in their position would.

“I assume you’re familiar with the fact that Natasha Romanoff was injected with nanites at your latest mission, when you walked into a trap?” Elizabeth said.

“How do you know that?” Tony asked, presumably before his mind could censor him and tell him not to give her information.

“Because she was given my nanites,” she said and extended her hand towards Vala.

“Elizabeth —”

“The knife, Vala,” she insisted. Vala looked at her for a few moments more, then shrugged and pulled her skirt up her thigh. Barton rolled his eyes, Tony muttered something and Steve Rogers blushed, but she had no time to think about that. She looked straight at Tony Stark; in fact, she knew Tony Stark longer than she knew people whom she considered closest to her. (at least once.) She stretched out her palm. “I had been involved with a secret program aiming to defend Earth from alien threats. You’re, I assume, very aware of their existence.”

“Mildly put,” Tony answered.

“During this mission I was infected by nanotechnology used by an aggressive alien race... and compromised by it,” Elizabeth said, and with that she cut her palm open without even blinking. She could see Vala flinching next to her, heard Steve Rogers’ “hey” and had seen the expression on Tony’s face.

But when her palm healed in less than a minute, everyone was mute and grim and it was hard to truly look at anyone.

Vala came closer and put her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“I hate when you do that,” she said and squeezed for a moment and Elizabeth nodded.

“Seeing is believing,” Elizabeth said, looking back at Tony.

“What the hell did just happen?” he asked with just a hint of fear on his face. Elizabeth was glad it wasn’t something else.

“The same thing that happened to Natasha,” Barton said, giving Tony a sharp look and the stared at each other for a couple of moments. Steve Rogers looked like some things were finally in the clear.

“That doesn’t mean anything! It doesn’t mean she knows anything about Romanoff —” Tony began.

“Oh I know plenty, Tony. I know she was a Red Room agent, I know she now works for an organization that’s been trying to eliminate her for years, and it’s all thanks to your friend Clint Barton, isn’t it?” Barton flinched a little and Elizabeth thought she ought to learn how to deal with people reacting to her like this. “She’s dangerous, she’s competent and her previous owners would like to have her back. She’s been an effective killing puppet, however they can control her with the help of nanotechnology that just healed my hand much better than with their mind games —

All three men paled and Elizabeth continued talking.

“But they don’t want just her, Tony. Nanotechnology can spread. You can probably imagine how, given all your knowledge. They can have multiple perfect little assassins who do what they’re told when the switch is flipped. Do you understand now?”

It seemed that he did understand, but he was refusing to believe it. She understood that, she really did, but she also needed him to believe her.

“It’s a bit hard to trust someone who’s pointing a gun at you,” Steve interjected, crossing his arms and looking at both Elizabeth and Vala.

“Even more difficult to get someone to listen to you, when they really don’t want to,” Vala shot back. “Especially when we’re on a tight time schedule here.”

“You know who I am, Tony,” Elizabeth started.

“Well, no. Not any more,” he replied grimly. “You used to be the person who thought peace was always the best solution.”

“And I still think that,” Elizabeth realized that she was beginning to shake. “But if you don’t believe me, perhaps you’ll believe the scientific data. Call your friend Banner.”

Tony snorted. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“Do you really think he can hurt me?” she shot back. “Look, Stark. Your friend’s life is at stake. My friends’ lives are at stake. If this goes to hell you will have a lot more problems than one former diplomat going crazy,” she countered.

“If I might cut in,” Steve’s voice tentatively broke the tense silence that filled the room. “I’d like to point out that I haven’t seen Natasha for hours,” he said, his voice and face worried when he looked at Barton. “I think if all of this is true, then we need to find her.”

Tony stayed silent for a little while longer.

“Fine,” he said. “I spent enough time at negotiation tables with you to know a few things.”

“Such as?” Barton asked.

“She never walks in lacking arguments. Whatever her intention is.... there’s something behind it, and I think it’s best if we know what.”

Clint nodded and looked at Steve.

“Call Banner. We need to find Tasha.”


*


“So you call her Tasha,” Vala observed as they walked through the corridor. Vala was tall and elegant, and Clint thought she would look elegant and like royalty anywhere, doing anything, but right now her dress and make up were making the impression complete.

It was a hell of an impression. He was pretty sure he had never seen someone like her. Natasha was a different kind of perfect image designed to make you believe dangerous things. This woman was similar, but at the same time radically different and it unnerved him.

“I call her lot of things,” Clint was making sure that he was out of hand’s reach. Vala smiled like he told her the most amusing thing in the world.

“I really don’t want to be on your bad side, honey. Or anyone’s really. I had a lifetime of that, so —”

“Well, you certainly know how to make an impression,” Clint answered.

“I do, don’t I? I did learn from the best,” she said.

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“It’s a classified story, honey. I’m not sure I can tell you,” she said, her tone still deceptively light as they stood in front of the elevator. “But for the record, I know.”

“You know what?” he asked, but she didn’t reply to him immediately.

“There’s a saying... every doctor should try their own medicine. Something along those lines,” she said and when she turned to look at him, her eyes were heavy. He knew that sort of look, that kind of darkness — he’d been hanging around dark people all his life. He saw one in the mirror on a regular basis. Darkness knew darkness and this woman was definitely more than a good looking thief with really quick hands. “I know my medicines, sweetheart. Each and every one of them.”

Clint looked at her wrist, noticing again the weird looking bracelet she wore.

“That’s a weapon,” he said, because he knew how to recognize a woman wearing one.

“Yes,” she said. “And it’s not one you’ve seen yet, right?”

“If I did, I would have been more careful,” he gave her a smirk. She smirked in return.

“I bet. You have good eyes,” she said.

“And you think flattery will get you somewhere,” he answered. The elevator door opened in front of them and they stepped in. Clint was still making sure he was out of Vala’s reach.

“Oh no. I can tell when someone is spoken for,” Vala said, smiling in a self satisfactory way, and Clint just didn’t have the mental capacity to enter another verbal duel with her. The fact that she was right about this was beside the point. He didn’t advertise his relationship with Natasha, but right now he had bigger worries. “And flattery isn’t what got you in trouble in the first place. I was asking for help.”

“Remind me not to be a knight in shiny armour again, will you?”

The door opened to reveal a completely dark, quiet hallway.

“You might need to do that just one more time,” Vala said. “I would hate to see the death of chivalry, though.”

“We’re not after a damsel in distress, Vala. Or a princess either.”

“Honey, you need to learn that no woman is a damsel and every woman is a princess,” she said and he was tempted to disagree, just to hear what she would say. She was a piece of work, all right. She only seemed cheerful, and she definitely did have a sense of humor he could appreciate and even enjoy if the circumstances were different. But there was also a ruthlessness to her, an attitude that reminded him of Natasha, only she didn’t seem vulnerable in the same way Natasha was. “Do you have a thing for darkness?” she asked.

“Not really,” Clint said as they stood near the elevator. Not the literal darkness anyway. He needed the light to see. The hallway was lit only by the lights coming from outside, the blinking of other buildings around Stark Tower. It was too dark and just not usual. “Listen,” he said as he took a tentative lead, debating with himself if he should ask JARVIS to turn on the lights. If Natasha was here and she turned them off, there was a reason for it. “I would appreciate if you could tell me if we’re on the same page here.”

“You mean if I’m going to pull a gun on you again?” Vala asked sweetly and he threw her a look to which she responded with innocent flutter of eyelashes.

Seriously, this woman. Clint was staring to wonder if there was any possibility that she was related to Tony Stark.

“I would appreciate if you’d keep guns and other lethal objects away from me, please,” he said.

“I think that can be arranged,” she said. “I can warn you if need be.”

“I’m relieved,” he replied sarcastically.

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “Where are we going?”

“This is where my and Natasha’s apartments are,” he said, still walking slowly along the wall and looking around. “We’re obviously looking for her.”

“You think she is here?” Vala asked and stopped next to him as Clint paused his steps as well. He was thinking about which direction to take, to his or her apartment.

“She could be,” Clint answered, remembering that he could simply ask JARVIS, but he didn’t want to make unnecessary noise. Natasha wasn’t doing well, but even in bad shape, she wasn’t the one to leave her post. She was supposed to be at the party, and if she had gone away, it certainly wasn’t for a trivial reason. She was forced to leave. Clint didn’t enjoy thinking about possible scenarios, but after the things he’d seen in the last few days since she was attacked, and the things he’d heard from Elizabeth Weir, he had the chills. “Before we proceed I need to make something clear,” he said.

“What is that?”

“I go in first. I call the shots, I decide when to move,” he turned to give Vala a stern look, but he didn’t meet any resistance now.

“Fine,” she said.

“It better be.”

“I’m not here to screw this up, Clint,” she said. “You know her and I don’t,” she said, and Clint picked up on the undertone in her voice. Something was telling him they were on a tight schedule. Somewhere a clock was ticking and he wasn’t sure what would happen when time ran out, but it probably wasn’t good.

“No sudden moves,” he said, not sure what to expect. He braced himself and continued onward, towards his apartment. Natasha had her own, yes, but they both spent more time in his in times of distress. They’ve been sleeping in his bed ever since the goddamn mission, and he would find her in his kitchen after each nightmare. There he hugged her gently and convinced her to come back to bed, and she’d tell him she was cold and that she dreamt of a dark place with long, empty corridors made of metal.

Each time it felt like she was slipping away through his fingers.

When they reached his door Clint realized it was halfway opened, inviting him into a deeper darkness. He knew his space, every single centimeter of it, he knew how it felt and how the sound echoed off the walls he started to call home. He knew she was in there, he could feel her, just as he could feel she wasn’t doing okay.

“Natasha?” he called but there was no answer. Still, he knew where she was. Maybe it was the hitched sound of her breathing that he was aware of only later, but he found her behind the kitchen counter, where he usually found her after her nightmares. She was standing still, an outline of her body tense and dark against the bleakness of the dim light streaming through the window. “Nat’” he called gently when she didn’t move. Behind him Vala was motionless and still, and thankfully quiet. “Nat, talk to me.”

Then, after silence that stretched too long, her voice finally came.

“Go away, Clint,” she said.

“The hell I will.”

“I’m not really feeling well, Barton —”

“I can help you,” he countered. There was a sound of disbelief, a doomed sound that made his heart twist in his chest, but he pressed on. “I know what’s going on.”

She hissed a breath through her teeth, and it sounded like she was in pain. “This isn’t one of those times when I’m going to shake out of it,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, darkness slipping into his voice.

“Then you know the way to help me.”

“Fuck, no, Tash. Nobody is going to die tonight.”

“My mind is. I’m falling apart, Barton,” she managed, and she rarely called him Barton. It was a signal, a warning flare, he knew.

“I need lights, Tasha. I need to see you,” he said softly, and he could feel and hear her move, almost like she slipped and caught herself before she fell.

“I — I don’t want to —”

He took a few steps closer, loud enough for her to register that he was there, nearer to her.

“When Loki took my mind I couldn’t see straight. And then I saw you,” he said, unplanned and uncalculated. Her breath hitched and he thought, felt she was scared, just as scared as he was. “JARVIS, please turn on the lights? But not too bright,” he instructed and in the next moment the room filled with mild glow. “Look at me Tasha,” he said, his voice was gentle but still firm.

She did. She raised her head and looked him straight in the eye and he could see the struggle, the pain and the fear. “It’s not your mind,” he said. “It’s not, I promise. You were given something.”

He thought he could see relief, and he knew she believed him. Her eyes stayed on his, and he tried to give her strength and all the encouragement he could without coming any closer to her, because the way she stood there, her posture and the set of her shoulders were screaming warnings. So he remained in his spot even when the thing he wanted to do the most was to pull her out of the nightmare she was stuck in.

“Who is she?” Natasha asked and Clint realized he nearly forgot about Vala.

“Someone who can help,” he said. Natasha stared at Vala for awhile longer, and Clint kept his eyes steady on his partner, his best friend and the woman he loved. Finally, her eyes returned to his.


*

Her head had not felt clear for days now, in a way she hadn’t experienced before. There were dreams, nightmares and things that felt like memories, but Natasha was doubtful those memories were hers. Were they somehow planted? Aimed to shake her up and make her fall apart from the inside? She didn’t have any knowledge of a place surrounded by a large mass of water that seemed like an ocean, long metallic corridors and beeping machines and panels filling dark rooms. She hadn’t been blown up in an explosion and hit by a mass of broken glass, and she didn’t recognize the faces that flashed in front of her mind’s eye. That didn’t belong to her. How was it in her head, then? Why did she dream of these things, of being strapped to a white bed in a cold white room, calling for someone who never came?

Clint’s arm steadied her when she finally let him come close. There was a constant feeling under her skin, something like an itch, a knowledge of something that didn’t belong there. She felt like she might lose it at any point, lose her mind, her control, her sense of self, and she didn’t want Clint or anyone to be close, yet it was too hard to tear herself away. She’d wake from a dream and when he showed up, looking for her, she would let herself fall against sensations that were familiar and grounding.

Natasha carried the shoes in her hand, walking barefoot and not minding the cold. There was light and there were people in Bruce’s lab — Tony, Steve, Bruce and a woman. A woman she didn’t know. Only she did.

Then she remembered. (It felt like remembering.)

Natasha stopped at the door.

“It’s okay,” Clint said, his hold firm and assuring. “She won’t hurt you.”

“Who are you?,” Natasha demanded, cornered with the feeling of familiarity even though she never talked to this woman, never got near her. Yet, there was something like a connection she just couldn’t explain, and therefore she didn’t like it. The woman merely nodded at her words.

“Agent Romanoff,” she used Natasha’s name as a greeting, in a way a person with power would. “I am Elizabeth Weir,” the woman said.

“It’s okay,” Clint assured from beside her. Natasha looked around her — Bruce, Steve, Tony, they all looked like they knew something, something that just couldn’t be good. It couldn’t be okay. She looked back at Clint, but his eyes were clouded and worried.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she demanded, feeling caught between all of them.

“We will,” Clint assured calmly. She looked back at him, finding a look that she knew, and realizing that he was trying to hide away the fear.

“First allow me to say that I know who you are, Agent Romanoff,” Elizabeth Weir said.

“I remember you were a diplomat,” Natasha replied, finding the details at the back of her mind. They were coming back with strange ease and precision — the mission, her task, the way she stalked the diplomat and tried to shoot her, and three men who prevented her. But it was blurry, like many Red Room missions had been (they messed with her mind because if she didn’t know, she couldn’t give information to anyone, right? Right.) The familiarity was odd, though, it felt so certain and clear and Natasha recoiled from it, because it could have been a bait, something they designed to convince her, drag her into her downfall.

Then she remembered another thing. Another startling detail that came out of nowhere.

Clint was there.

“How —?” she looked at Clint wide eyed. How could she remember that now?

“I can help with that, Agent Romanoff,” Elizabeth said softly and Natasha turned to face her. “You were attacked two weeks ago, is that right?”

Natasha nodded and stared. “You were given something,” Elizabeth continued, repeating what Clint had said earlier, but even though it was familiar it did nothing to settle her. “Infected with something.”

Natasha didn’t move but she gripped Clint’s hand tighter. She stared at the woman, expecting the words to fall, wondering if it was a slow poison or something to gradually take her mind away, erode her brain functions and make her believe that lies were truth, and truth were lies. She’d been given drugs before, had been wrecked and shattered and left to gather pieces of herself and mend them back together, and she still wondered sometimes if some things ended up in wrong places after her repairs. But this, this was different and she didn’t feel like spinning in the vertigo of hallucinogens. She felt like she was fading instead.

“I assume you know what nanotechnology is,” Elizabeth said and Natasha’s mind stilled.

She did. She did know, and this was not the answer she was expecting. The Red Room used nanotechnology on her and it was one of rare things that have been useful, because it helped her body repair itself and heal faster than a normal human body would. “It can be designed to simply keep you healthy and help you heal —”Elizabeth continued. “Like yours does. Or, it can be used to control and manipulate,” Elizabeth said and briefly looked away. Natasha noticed the uneasy shift in the room, the way Steve looked, and Tony’s sympathetic face.

“Are you saying someone infected me with … nanotechnology that can control me?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, simple and straightforward, and somehow Natasha preferred to be told about it like this, straight to her face without attempts to make it look better, or less dangerous than it sounded.

Then, she realized, this woman knew what she was talking about.

“Does it —?”

“It does,” Elizabeth answered before Natasha could even finish the question. “You’re good at resisting. That’s why it hasn't worked yet, because your mind is trained and you know how to resist.” Then she answered what Natasha meant to ask next. ”The nanotechnology you’ve been given was taken from me,” she explained.

“You might dream things. You might have... experienced flashbacks which aren’t yours,” she continued and what Natasha felt was not relief but understanding of a bitter, necessary kind.

“Are they yours?” she asked.

“Yes,” Elizabeth said.

“Did this happen to you?” Tony interrupted. “This sort of —”

“Yes. Well, not exactly,” Elizabeth said. “It wasn’t the same; like I said, my mind wasn’t trained for this.”

“What happened to you, then?” Tony pressed and Elizabeth looked uncomfortable, like she was facing the thing she didn’t want to recall.

Natasha could understand that sentiment.

Elizabeth didn’t answer. She looked at Natasha, and there were things, dark, sad, lonely things that called out to her.

“It’s not, by the way,” Elizabeth said then and explained. “Death is not the worst thing that could happen to someone. I think you’ll agree.”

“Yes,” Natasha found herself saying.

No, her mind said. Don’t trust. Don’t trust because it could be false, it could all be a trap. She looked at Tony, at Bruce and Steve and then finally turned to Clint. He nodded, slowly, and she knew this wasn’t something he had not thought through. He was her eyes, he was the one on the lookout, the one who talked in her ear from the rooftops, telling her which way out was safe. The boys, they were there to fight alongside her, they had her back.

You’re not alone anymore.

She looked back at Elizabeth, wondering if it worked two ways, if this woman could see the bits of her, where she ended and where she begun, and things she’d done, even as Natasha felt she was slipping from her own grip, losing threads of herself.

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” Elizabeth said, and it felt like the mask fell. It sounded open and vulnerable and Natasha wondered what was at stake for her. “I know what it’s like to be controlled. Not in the same way you were, but I know,” she said, and it sounded as honest as it could be, because this woman looked so uncomfortable and yet — it was hard to put her finger on it. “You can help me and I can help you. I know how to fight them off,” she paused after she made her offering and Natasha felt her desperation so clearly. “You can help me bring back my friend,” she said, and this was something Natasha was comfortable with, a trade, and exchange of favors.

She wasn’t even aware when she accepted her hand, only that it felt necessary.

And she still held onto Clint.

“Tell me.”


*


“It’s...” Natasha blinked against the sun reflecting off the water surface. “Oh God.” She recognized the place even though she didn’t know where she was. It was familiar, the spot from the dreams and flashes — the metal railing under her hands and vast sea in front and everywhere her eye could reach. And it was warm, wonderfully warm and bright, with distant breeze fluttering around them. “Where are we?”

Elizabeth was beside her. She didn’t smile, didn’t move, even though her eyes were filled with emotions and Natasha felt these things. It seemed that she could. This was her home.

It was something neither of them had — Natasha in the past, Elizabeth in the present.

“You’re right,” Elizabeth said, still looking at the distance. “This was my home.”

So she did feel it.

It was strange and it was intrusive and Natasha didn’t like it.

“What happened?” she asked, because she had to know, understand, she had to get rid of it.

“We were attacked,” she said, and Natasha’s mind supplied the images; crashes and shouts and the explosion; space ships and the city — it was a city — floating in blackness of space. Space, she thought and a bitter taste rose in her mouth as she remembered scanning the skies for Tony, and staring at that same blackness. “I was hurt and should have died. Only, the nanites already existed in my bloodstream from an attack that happened months before. The attack when they almost overtook my mind and body.”

“When I was injured …” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off. “I should have died. I wish I did,” she looked at Natasha then. “Rodney — our chief scientist, he didn’t want to let me die. He …. switched on the nanites and they repaired the damage, repaired me and took over my body. They’re a part of me now; in my bloodstream, in my bones, my hair.... and if he turned them off, I would die. If not, then I can exist like a machine. I don’t bleed. I don’t age. It’s almost like I don’t really exist.”

Natasha nodded slowly against the chill that ran down her spine.“Did they — do they —?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, not yet. I don’t think so, at least. At this point you can still defeat them. They will become dormant then,” she said. “And harmless to you.”

“If someone doesn’t reactivate them.”

Elizabeth nodded. “But you can still control them. Like every part of yourself,” she said but Natasha felt like she knew better.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re convinced.”

Elizabeth looked down and closed her eyes.

“Conviction... it’s hard when almost everyone turns their back on you, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha tilted her head to the side. “Didn’t you have friends here?”

“I did. But I let myself feel bitter about everything that happened, and let them feel guilty,” she searched Natasha’s eyes then. “I wouldn’t advise that, Agent Romanoff.”

There was a brief silence after which Elizabeth continued.

“I know you don’t like this. But —” she looked toward the sea and smiled a little, and it was a bitter, wistful smile. “You never know what will happen next. What scientific solutions can be thought of. This place here has taught me that... that nothing is impossible.”

The look in Elizabeth’s eyes when she turned around made Natasha’s chest hurt.

“You just have to believe it, Agent Romanoff.”

And then there were images and memories, Elizabeth’s memories, Natasha realized. Dark and scary, frightening images, things so similar to her ghosts and demons. She looked at Elizabeth realizing that she didn’t like this either, realized that her home wasn’t real, didn’t seem real; her friends, her life, everything that made her... her. Natasha thought of Clint and she thought she could still feel the warmth of his hand, somewhere, with her.

She thought of how it would feel for that warmth to drift away, to leave her; her memories and her mind. She thought of them, taking him away from her, scarping it all piece by piece.... Bruce’s mild manner and Tony’s obnoxious comments and Steve being lost at another thing of modern times and Thor’s reactions over wonders of Midgard. They would take them, all of them, but not physically. The Red Room worked in cruel ways; they owned you by owning your mind, your sense of self, of everything you were to yourself and people around you. They took away your place in the world and inserted themselves instead, until nothing more existed. Until he was nothing more and Clint would become a stranger she was ordered to kill, and she could see herself pulling the trigger, she could feel it heavy and cold in her hands.

Elizabeth looked at her.

“There isn’t much time left,” she said. Natasha looked away, and then back at the woman standing in front of her. “I need you to help me, Agent Romanoff,” she said and Natasha found herself nodding. “And yourself.”

“How?” she asked.

“Stop running,” Elizabeth said. “You have to fight.”


*

“Hey. hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Clint’s voice was hoarse and warm next to her ear when she jerked awake. “Shhhh. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Clint —?”

“You’re safe. Bruce checked already and you were just exhausted. You’re safe,” he said and she was about to ask, but he was there before she could have mouth the words. “All the nanites are dormant.”

“Elizabeth?”

“She said you told her everything she needed to know,” Clint pulled her close. They were in a bed, his bed (their bed) and even though it was completely dark, she found the angles and solid strength of his body around her familiar. “And Tony texted. Said they got her friends to safety.”

Natasha buried her face deeper against his chest.

“Are you saying -?”

“Yeah, it seems you missed the show,” he replied, speaking quietly into her hair.

She blinked in the darkness and closed her eyes, flattening her palms against his chest. “So did you,” she said, sounding too young and too scared to her own mind. “This was -”

“Nothing we were trained for, Tash,” he supplied as he stroked her hair. “Alien nanotechnology and …. mind melding, as Tony said it. Straight out of fucking Star Trek.”

“Definitely not what we were trained for,” she replied, shifting closer to him and sliding her leg between his thighs. She breathed, a breath filled with him and felt her mind ease and quiet down. “And now what?” she asked as they intertwined more closely, but without desperation this time. In her nanite induced anxiety she reached for him like in fever, only halfway aware. Her mind felt free now, clear of fog and confusion and she could hear him relax as well, as if he knew. He probably did. He could read her just as she could read him, and with his hands on her body, on her muscles, he could feel it.

“Don’t know. Don’t care, as long as you’re okay,” he said.

“What happens to Weir?” she asked because she couldn’t stop thinking of the woman.

“Not sure. Stark did mention we could always use another superstrong Avenger —”

Natasha chuckled at that. It felt like something Tony would say, and it was sweet, in a way. Only, Elizabeth Weir wasn’t shaped like that, wasn’t cut out to be a weapon like they were.

“Doubt it,” she said to Clint, feeling content and small and not wanting to move.

“Yeah,” he agreed and Natasha wondered if they could ever exist like this — simply like this, without risking their lives, compromising themselves. Were they really cut out to be weapons, means of destruction? And who made that choice? Who got to say what defined them?

“Clint?” she said.

“Yeah?” he asked and she paused.

Thank you for being there, she thought. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for staying even when I was losing my mind. Thank you for being my eyes. For being my home. But it stayed inside of her chest, along with the images of a city floating on the water and two people overlooking the sea on the balcony. She hoped they could find their way back to each other, despite the hurt and the guilt. There were so many places and people in life you could truly belong to. Losing them was not worth the hurt, or pride, and Natasha hoped Elizabeth would find her way home.

She certainly deserved it.

She pulled Clint even closer to her and thought of the rest of their team.

Thank you for being my home.