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voiceoffenrisulfr · 3 months ago

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Multitudes - Chapter Twenty

My Obedient Servant...

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Steve Rogers

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Fights bring out the worst in us.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 5986

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) violence, fighting, fakeclaiming, derogatory language, humiliation, lashing out when shamed, accidental injury as a result of pushing, historical SA (emotionally graphic), injury detail, subservience.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. You know the drill. Takes place during Magic and Madness chapter seven, and before the start of eight (read seven first, for crossreaders). Masterlist can be found here.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

<- Previous Chapter (19/72) Next Chapter (21/72) ->

I sighed good-naturedly at the calls of celebration when we entered the dining room that evening, fingers latched with Clint’s. The table was a mess of food and alcohol – and, if Tony slow-dancing by himself in the corner was anything to go by, the party had started long ago.

“Sorry we’re late, guys. Traffic,” Clint offered, biting back a smirk.

Yeah… ‘Traffic’.

Thor met my partner’s eye, beer flagon raised. “You have finally divulged your secret?”

We exchanged a look, and I nodded. “This isn’t just going to be a birthday party… It’s also a retirement party. For both of us.”

The faces before me became an odd mixture of sadness and delight, somewhere between commiserations and celebrations. Wanda was the first to step forward, her hands finding my free one, tears shining in her emerald eyes. “I’ll come and see you all the time, yes? We can practice my Russian, and talk about boys.”

I nodded, my own tears rolling down my cheeks, and pulled her into a hug. “We weren’t late because of traffic,” I murmured, hiccupping around a sob. “We were late because I got fucked on the hood of Clint’s car.”

Steve choked in the background, and I grinned sheepishly as Wanda pulled away, laughing. “You’re going to miss us really, Cap.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, then raised his glass. “I really am. To Natasha and Clint – the coup- throuple we all knew were destined to end up together.”

Amongst the murmured agreements and clinking of tumblers, I felt Widow swell with happiness. He remembered me.

On cue, Stephen cleared his throat, becoming the next to rise from the table. “If you’re all going to be leaving us… Does this mean we may finally meet the allusive Widow?”

I laughed, smirking as my gaze flicked to his long-healed throat. “You already did.”

He simply quirked an eyebrow, touching a finger to his pale skin. “I suppose I did. Though it may be nice to do so in a less… Terse capacity.”

I hummed thoughtfully, cocking my head. Well? It’s up to you.

I… I don’t know. Maybe. I haven’t spoken to anyone since…

I know. But it’s okay.

I don’t understand why they’d even want to speak to me. I… I fucked everything up.

My heart broke sympathetically, and I winced. You also kept me going, Widow. You’re the reason I – the reason we’re both – alive today.

… Okay. Maybe. But not now. Not with everybody watching like this.

I nodded and smiled fondly, fingers absently brushing the silver arrow by my throat. “Later, I think.” Stephen nodded, returning to his seat, eyes flicking back to Tony with an unreadable expression.

Clint squeezed my hand, and I glanced to him inquisitively. “They’re okay with that?”

“I think so,” I replied uncertainly, ever in some degree of doubt about Widow’s feelings. “Not with everyone watching, though. They-” I interrupted myself with a snort as they muttered, and Clint’s smile switched to one of befuddlement. “They said ‘I’m not a circus attraction’.”

He laughed, placing a gentle kiss to our temple. “Y’all are flexible enough.”

It was halfway through the meal, and several drinks deep, when it finally happened.

Before our hospitalisation, we’d worked hard on smoothing out the transition – the ‘switch’, as Luna called it – when alone in our rooms.

By now it was almost seamless – less like a wrenching, more of a dance, my hand barely hesitating between table and mouth as it became theirs, slamming back a shot of vodka.

They were poured another without asking, and gave Thor a grin as they tipped it back. Yeah… He’s always up for getting people drunk.

Ah, a man after my own heart – he should come around more often.

“Hey, Widow,” Clint murmured, his arm leaving their waist instinctively when he noticed it wasn’t mine. We cocked our heads in unison – mine internal, theirs external.

“How did you know?”

He smiled weakly, a gentle finger caressing the set of their jaw. “You look different.”

They blinked in surprise, flustered. “We are identical – it is the same body.”

He shook his head fondly, taking a shot of his own from the row. “Not to me. I… Can’t explain it. It’s the same body, yes. But I just… See the difference. The way you hold yourselves. The way you look around. The way you look at me like I’m the biggest idiot you’ve ever met,” he added, chuckling, as Widow raised an eyebrow. “You both do these things, but you do them so differently.”

They hummed thoughtfully, clumsily patting the hand on his knee. “Maybe an idiot. But a very, very sweet one.”

snorted in time with Clint, both of us shocked by their words, and he grinned. “I try.”

Wanda was the next to notice.

It took around five minutes for her to begin peering at us, and five more for her eyes to widen in realisation, leaning forward across our desserts to hiss excitedly. “Is it you? It’s you, right?”

Widow simply nodded nervously, toying with the fork in their hand, and Wanda let out a soft, enthusiastic sound. “Awesome – hi! I’m so glad to meet you at last!”

They let out a breath, relieved, and smiled. “I am glad to meet you too, Wanda. I know Nat has appreciated your friendship over these last few months.”

Wanda grinned, then cocked her head curiously. “I’m your friend too, you know?”

I… I’ve never had a friend before.

Well, now you have me. And a whole family, I added, turning our head to survey the table before glancing back to the witch.

“Thank you, Wanda. That means a lot.”

It was Tony who approached us next, steps faltering and unsteady, and Widow tensed instinctively.

Oh God. Drunk Tony is… Do you need me to take over?

I’ll be okay, they replied calmly, hands curling into loose fists at their sides.

Please don’t start a fight.

I won’t start one… But I’ll finish one if he comes for us.

He squatted in front of us, squinting. “… Is it you? ‘Widow’? That’s what the Cap was saying to Vision – super-hearing, and all that.”

His sarcastic finger-quotes made me wince, but Widow simply smiled politely. “It is nice to meet you, Tony.”

He snorted, steadying himself with one hand on the table, the other bringing a bottle of scotch to his mouth to drink deeply. “’Meet’ me. Yeah. Right.”

Their head tipped in fake curiously, muscles slowly tightening. “I’m sorry?”

“Who do you think you’re fooling, Nat? That you can just say, ‘oh, I’m sorry I cut myself and starved myself, sorry I bled out all over the floor, sorry I’ve been violent and terrifying – but it’s okay, it wasn’t me, it was my other personality! And now we’re best friends, so you have to be nice to it’! Nah, that won’t fly with me, Natasha. These idiots may have fallen for your act, but I’m not that stupid. You can’t get away with the things you did just by acting like it was this ‘other person’.”

Widow breathed deeply, the room deathly silent as the gathered heroes awaited their response. “I have made mistakes, Tony. But I am trying to amend for them. Nat has, too – but together we-”

“Here we go again,” he interjected, rolling his eyes dramatically. “’We’. All this ‘we’ stuff is bullshit, Nat. You’re trying to say you’re admitting your mistakes, but you’re hiding behind this ‘personality’. Trying not to own your fucked-up behaviour. Either that, or you really are just delusional.”

Clint growled, but Widow’s hand found his arm, holding him back. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Tony. There isn’t anything I can to change your mind, however, so why don’t we just leave it alone for now?”

His unfocused eyes landed on their hand, and he smirked. “Oh, and that, too. Clint got shot for you, and you still somehow managed to make it all about poor Natasha. God, you’re selfish. And he’s an idiot.”

Widow stood then, eerily silent as they leant over the still-squatting billionaire. “I do not care what you say about me. Nat does not care what you say about her. But we will not tolerate you disrespecting Clint.”

“How do you do it, Legolas?” he slurred, peering under Widow’s arm to look at our partner while I simply sat horrified in the background. “Let’s say even if it’s true – even if this thing exists, which I still think is bullshit - look at all the things it made Nat do. It’s a monster, and it needs to be gotten rid of. How can you stand to be anywhere near it?”

Clint rose quietly behind us, neatly sidestepping our body, and, calmly and precisely, collided his fist with Tony’s nose, sending the drunken asshole sprawling and bleeding.

“Their name is ‘Widow’. They are not an ‘it’, or a ‘thing’, or a ‘monster’. And if I ever hear you speak to either of them like that again, I’ll kill you.”

“It’s not my fault your girlfriend is a psycho,” Tony muttered around the blood pooling in his mouth.

Clint moved back to his seat with the same eerie, relaxed energy, showing no sign of hearing the comment, and began pouring himself another shot. “Now… Are we celebrating, or what?”

Tony disappeared shortly after, Stephen shooting us a sympathetic glance before following on his heels. Clint excused himself a few minutes later, muttering something about changing his bag, but we could see the residual trembles of rage and distress in his hands, the way he shook his head when we offered to come, telling us to stay and enjoy ourselves.

He didn’t come back.

After fifteen minutes, we bid our goodbyes, feet fast and frantic as we made our way up to our rooms. I’m so proud of you, Widow. What? Why?

You stayed calm. That must have been hard.

It… It was. Thank you.

We skidded to a halt, freezing at the sight of the half-open door and the sounds of retching inside.

No.

Not him, too.

Please say he isn’t.

It's not the answer, Clint.

It's never the answer.

We pushed our way through slowly, halting at the wood that kept us from our partner, the wet, echoing splatter of vomit hitting a toilet unmistakable to our experienced ears.

“Clint?”

Nothing.

“Clint, honey… I’m going to come in, okay?”

When I was met with only silence, punctuated by the occasional gag, I tried the handle and was surprised when it moved easily, feeling Widow recede. I know this is hard for you. It’s okay. You’ve done so well; you can rest now.

“Clint?”

My hand found his back lightly and he whirled, panting, his face stained with tears and sick – and blood.

“Oh, Clint…”

“Get out,” he muttered, his voice thick and slurred around a fat lip.

“Now.”

“Clint, I-”

“Leave!” he snapped, rising to stand over me. I raised my hands defensively, panicked; it was then that I spotted his raw-looking stoma, bleeding freely, the contents of the missing bag splattered against his skin.

“Oh, honey…”

“Nat, I swear to God. Get out of here.”

“I don’t think I can do that. You need help.” My hand came up to his shoulder again, and his eyes flashed a warning.

It was one I should have listened to.

The second my fingers brushed his skin, his hands were on my collarbones, pushing me violently from the room and sending me sprawling. My previously broken wrist bent beneath me, weakened by malnourishment, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out.

You said he wouldn’t hurt us.

It took almost half an hour for me to be able to breathe.

Flinching with pain, I dragged my bruised body to the table, curling up underneath it like a whipped cur, seeking some small refuge in the enclosed space, hidden from sight by the hanging tablecloth.

I pressed the button in my ear, wincing as my stomach roiled. “… Wanda? Stephen? Bruce? Is anyone up?”

I hope he doesn’t have his comms on.

“Nat? It’s late… What’s happening?”

Stephen’s voice was soft and sleep-slurred, but a welcome relief, and I had to fight to hold back my tears. “Clint’s hurt. I… I think he got into a fight with Tony. His stoma… The bag burst. He’s bleeding. He needs help, but he won’t let me in.”

There was unmistakable sounds of movement, urgent and panicked. “I’m on my way.” He paused only briefly, and I waited with bated breath. “Where are you? Are you ok?”

“Just help him, Stephen. Please.”

I cut the call, and glanced up at the ceiling pleadingly. “Don’t tell him where I am, Friday. Don’t tell him what happened. Please.”

A pause, and then the AI responded, equally soft. “You’re injured, Natasha. You need medical assistance.”

“I’ll get it, I promise. I just… I just need a minute before the questions.”

As if on cue, the tablecloth lit up, accompanied by the hissing and popping of the wizard’s sparks.

“Friday? Where are Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanoff?”

There was only the briefest of hesitations before the AI responded, her soft voice immediately soothing.

“Mr. Barton is in the bathroom, moderately injured and severely distressed. I recommend proceeding with caution. Ms. Romanoff is not currently available.”

I let out my breath, body trembling, wrist throbbing. Thank you, Friday.

“How can she be ‘not currently available’?” he snapped, sighing with frustration as I heard him open the bathroom door.

“Not you, either. Just leave me alone.”

“Clint, even from here I can see that you have a significant mucocutaneous separation, and with the waste both on your skin and possibly being actively released, it is paramount that-”

“I hate this, Stephen.” His voice was soft but I leant forward to listen, the tablecloth brushing my cheek. “I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t let them see me like this. I... I got so angry. Not because I was angry, but because I’m ashamed. I’m a grown man sat in his own shit. I can’t even defend them in a fight anymore. And she- when she came to see me, to help... I couldn’t cope with her sympathy. Her pity. I pushed her, Stephen. I pushed her out of this fucking room and she fell, and I didn’t even check if she was okay. I just shut the door and wallowed in my own goddamn shame.”

“I put my hands on at least one of the two people I love most in this world – maybe even both of them. How am I supposed to live with that? After everything they’ve been through, how are they ever supposed to trust me again?”

“Maybe they shouldn’t,” Stephen muttered, his tone sharp. “I warned you, Clint, not to hurt her – not to hurt them. Haven’t they been through enough? You’re angry, and upset; I get it. Believe me. I pushed away the first woman I loved – the only woman I’ve ever loved – after my accident. I didn’t want to, not really; I was just so, so angry. But I realised, eventually, that the only person to blame for how I took out that anger is me, and Christine was right to leave. Maybe Natasha would be too.”

“Fuck you, Strange.”

“Right back at you, Barton. Now, are you going to come with me willingly, or do we have to do this the hard way? Though I must warn you – a significant part of me hopes you choose the hard way. I’ll treat you because it’s the right thing to do, but Nat and Widow mean a lot to me. I won’t forgive you until – unless – they do.”

There was a heavy pause and a sigh, the sound of Clint getting up off the floor. “You think I don’t know what they’ve been through?”

“No, Clint. You don’t. You haven’t seen what they did to them – I have. It was unparalleled torture.” He hesitated, and then- “Did they ever tell you that Widow attacked me?”

“What? No. When?”

“The day they woke up. I had to check their internal stitches, and, despite having seen the damage they were left with, I was not prepared for the person I encountered – the one we know now as Widow, but who I thought, at the time, was simply Nat, deeply entrenched in a flashback. The things they said when they were remembering, Clint... The terror in their face when they came around... I’ve never seen anything like it.” He sighed, sparks crackling as he began his portal. “And that, Clint, is what you have just forced them to relieve. I don’t care how angry or embarrassed you were; I hope you are ashamed of yourself.”

I lay balled up, sobbing violently, until daylight began to creep through the windows.

“Ms. Romanoff, you still require medical attention.”

I nodded stiffly, muscles tender from my time on the floor. “Can you get Wanda?”

Crawling out and standing up slowly, I shuffled to the bathroom, injured wrist tucked protectively against my chest as I took in the mess. Blood, vomit and waste was splattered everywhere, our floor length mirror shattered and scattered. Kneeling, I brushed one finger against the sharp edge lightly. It would be so easy...

“Nat? Widow? Are you here? What’s going on? Friday just woke me and said-”

The redhead barrelled into the bathroom, hands finding her mouth. “Oh, God...”

I sat back on my haunches, another sob shaking my body. “Wanda... Help.”

The witch held me comfortingly as I recounted the entire horrific story, fingers caressing my hair.

“Nat... I’m so sorry. That’s... I’m so sorry.” She shook her head lightly, dazed and stunned. “We... We need to get you to Bruce, or-”

“No – not Bruce. Please. I’d rather just go to hospital. Bruce can’t know what happened; he’ll kill Clint,” I begged, looking up at her through puffy eyes. “Please, Wanda.”

She nodded stiffly, smoothing my hair once more. “Okay. Hospital.” Standing, she offered her hand to me, but I shook my head, gesturing at the mess around us.

“I need to... He can’t come back to this.”

She let out a huff, but put a finger to her ear. “Vision, my love? Natasha’s bathroom is a warzone. Could you arrange something?” She nodded to herself as he spoke, smiling lightly before replying. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

Freshly encased in a plain white cast, I couldn’t help but hesitate at the door to the main building.

We’d received the call from Stephen while we were at the hospital; Clint needed emergency surgery. There’d be updates when he had them.

And now...

Lunchtime.

How the hell am I supposed to go and sit at that table?

“We can eat together, if you like,” Wanda offered quietly, seeing my uncertainty on my face.

I waited for Widow to help me make a choice, but there was only silence. Just as there had been since the moment I first hit the floor. “I... I think... I should face them?” I offered uncertainly, unused to making choices by myself. Wands simply nodded, her elbow linked with mine.

“Y’all have got this, Natasha,” She murmured reassuringly, leading me through the building slowly. “You’ve been doing so well lately – don’t let this set you back, okay?”

I nodded, still dazed from the events of the last twelve hours. “I, uh... I-I won’t.”

For what seemed like the thousandth time, the entire room fell silent as I walked in – though this time it was largely to do with the sparse attendance.

“Natasha, are you okay? We heard about Clint… Your wrist… What the hell happened?” Bruce was on his feet as entered, his face a mask of concern.

Tony snorted, his back to me. “Probably got a little too rough-and-tumble. Legolas is tough – he’ll be fine. Strange will get him fixed up and good to go.”

I watched in disbelief as his hand rose and fell, bringing something unseen to his face.

“Are you kidding me?” I murmured under my breath, slowly stalking closer.

The weight gain had done me at least one favour.

I was definitely stronger now.

Tony was picking at a half eaten sandwich, shades on, and half a bottle of scotch in front of him.

“Hey, Tone. What happened to your neck?” I asked curtly, and his hand rose unconsciously to the fingerprint bruises littering one side.

Laughing softly, he shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t remember a thing. Once Clint put me on my ass – for being an ass – I walked out of here, and then there’s... Nothing. I guess I must have made a call.”

I nodded, humming thoughtfully. “And your hands?”

He looked down, flexing his fingers slowly, appearing genuinely surprised at the splits across his knuckles.

“What about your face?” I pressed, tugging away his sunglasses with a growl. He winced and recoiled, snatching blindly.

“I have a hangover, Nat, Jesus.”

He raised his head, and Bruce let out a low whistle. “Nope, you have a concussion – at least if that shiner is anything to go off.”

Tony’s fingers gently probed his swollen cheekbone, and he smirked. “I guess you weren’t the only one who got a little rough last n-”

His words were cut off by my primal scream as I threw myself at him, all professional training wiped from my mind as I fought desperately to claw his eyes from his head, or rip his goddamn tongue out – whichever I got my nails into first.

The table burst into outcry, and Vision stepped up behind me, as the closest one, but I snarled at the hand on my shoulder.

“Vis, leave her. That fucker deserves it," Wanda muttered coldly, and the touch hesitated before backing up, clearly seeing something in his lover’s eyes that convinced him.

“Widow, what the hell! Get off him!” Cap’s voice grew louder as he scrambled around the table, but I simply screamed again, my hands so close now around Tony’s desperately flailing arms. Three more millimetres, and I’d have his eyes.

A firm arm around my waist yanked me backwards, and I howled, fingers stretched desperately as my prey shuffled back. “Let me go! I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Widow, what-”

I rounded on the super-soldier, squaring up to him, spurred on by rage. “What, just because I’m angry, I’m Widow? Don’t be so fucking simplistic, Rogers. Widow is gone. I haven’t heard from them all night, and it’s all because of him!”

I whipped back around, intending to finish the job, but Steve’s grip was immovable, securing me against his chest.

“I- What?” Tony’s hands were raised defensively as he shook his head. “I know I was a little out of line, but come on – I was just kidding. I mess with everyone, Nat. You know that.”

“You really don’t remember, do you? You alcoholic piece of shit,” I breathed, almost amazed by his power of denial.

“Hey, now,” Tony warned, then paused. “Remember what?”

I rolled my jaw. “Clint came to confront you. For the things you said about us. And you beat the shit out of him. He’s in emergency surgery right now, because you managed to hit him that hard that his fucking stoma detached.” I spat, low and venomous. The arrogant asshole blinked in shock, face paling, eyes on his hands as he fought to remember.

Cap’s arm loosened minutely, and I attempted to seize the opportunity, propelling myself forward, but he just gripped me tighter, his other arm coming up to find my collarbones. “No, Nat. This isn’t the answer.”

“Steve... Get off me,” I whispered, a familiar nausea rising in my stomach.

Not now. Not alone. I can’t do this alone.

“I know what he did is horrible, Nat, but I can’t let you-”

“No, no no no no,” I murmured, hands coming up to find my hair. “Not now. Let me go. Just let me go.”

“I-”

“Let me go!” I screeched, thrashing harder, throwing my head back in a blind bid for his nose.

A hard arm across my collarbones, and another at my waist, holding me tightly.

The sound of bone crunching was satisfying, but it didn’t stop either of the men. The one holding me merely grunted, while the other dug the knife in a little harder, cutting flesh as well as fabric.

“Do you like it when it hurts, is that it, Natalia?” the second laughed, his English heavily accented by something further north than here. “You’re a little young for such tastes.”

I roared hatefully, and was rewarded with a heavy blow to the abdomen, making my stomach roil and my head spin.

They’d touched me before, of course. But I knew what this would be.

My Breaking.

There was no light touches now. Nothing that could be even remotely pleasant, or at least not painful.

There

was

only

burningstretchingrippingtearing

I felt like I was being split in two, and the more I fought, the worse it hurt. Eventually, my body was limp, without even the energy to tremble, jerking like a ragdoll as they thrusted into me.

Smooth, cold fingers caressed my cheek from behind as a fat tongue forced its way into my mouth.

“That’s a good girl, Natalia. You’re such a good girl... You’re loving this, aren’t you? Taking it like such a good girl.”

“You’re so good when you obey.”

You’re so good when you obey.

A hard arm across my collarbones, and another at my waist, holding me tightly.

“Nat? I’m going to let you go now, okay?”

I blinked blankly, not moving as the grip around my waist slackened and then vanished, head low.

“Nat? Are you okay?”

I nodded immediately, moving to sit at the table. After all, isn’t that what is expected of me?

“... Nat?”

I looked up at the kindly redhead beside me, a worried smile on her face. “Yes, Wanda?”

“Are you... Ready for lunch?”

“Of course,” I replied smoothly, turning back to face the table. “... What should we have? There are so many options.”

Everyone’s eyes were on me, so I simply smiled wider.

I’m fine.

Wanda gestured at a plate of sandwiches, stuffed with cheese and onion. “How about a couple of sandwiches?”

I nodded quickly, moving to my feet and carefully serving her, and then myself. She watched me carefully – no doubt ensuring I didn’t make a mistake – but I got through it without dropping anything, despite the subtle tremor in my hands.

Regaining my seat, I glanced around at the cluster of individuals nervously. “Would... Anyone else like anything?” I cursed myself for my hesitation, fingers finding the soft skin on the back of my thigh and pinching hard. There was a murmur of dissent, and they tucked in their food, while I sat, straight-backed and patient, my eyes low.

The only sound for several minutes was that of chewing, until Wanda touched my arm gently. “Nat? Are you gonna have some food?”

I blinked, looking down at my plate. “Yes. Of course,” I replied hesitantly, carefully picking up the first sandwich and taking a polite bite. My jaw moved automatically 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 before I swallowed, and repeated the process.

A Widow should chew anything seven times before she swallows. Widows don’t stuff their faces.

We were just finishing lunch, with only Steven and Wanda still eating, when Clint limped in the door. My head was low, waiting patiently for the others to finish to I could begin to clear the table, and I only looked up at Steve’s sharp intake of breath.

“Damn, Barton. You look like fresh hell.”

Following the soldier’s eyes, I briefly took in the pale, sweaty archer, his face coated in a litany of splits and stitches, one hand pressed protectively to his stomach. My gaze lingered for only a second, respectful – it wouldn’t do to be caught staring, after all – before dropping once more to the now-empty plate before me, waiting without complaint until I was of use.

“Feel like it, Cap. You all know what happened?”

Wanda nodded, sliding the last of her sandwich into her mouth. “Yup,” she mumbled, muffled by the bread. “Tony was an asshole – sounds pretty in character for him.”

“Nat tried to claw his eyes out,” Steven added, inclining his head toward me as he chewed on his last slice of grilled cheese. “Took more of my strength than I expected to hold her back… Pretty sure she broke my nose.”

I winced, head dropping lower, a low tremble starting in my core. Why would I do that? I’m going to pay for being so aggressive.

I felt the eyes on me, and blinked hard, trying to stay as still as possible.

“What�� What’s going on?” Clint murmured, moving closer behind me. My breathing stuttered in my chest, but I fought the urge to bolt. It’ll be worse if you run.

“We don’t know,” Wanda admitted, her voice low. “She… She’s been this way since… Since she attacked Tony. She… Well, see for yourself. Nat?”

My head jerked up, eyes instantly on the redhead. “Yes?”

“Could you clear this plate for me?”

I was on my feet immediately, pleased to have been given a task – collecting not only Wanda’s plate, but every other empty dish I could get my hands on. “I-I’ll come back for the leftovers. I’ll put them in tubs; we can’t have them going to waste, not when there’s so many people to feed. You never know when someone might get hungry, and I don’t want them to go without.”

It wasn’t until I was by the sink, carefully running scalding water – hotter is cleaner – with the perfect amount of soap that anyone spoke again. “…What happened?”

“I’m not sure. I tried to get her off Tony; I grabbed her. She was fine – furious, but fine. And then she… She just started telling me to get off her, and then she screamed at me to get off her. But I couldn’t let her go – she was going to kill him. And then she started thrashing and yelling like she was on fire. And then it was silent. And I let her go, but… She’s been like this ever since.”

“What the hell do you think you were doing?! Do you have any idea-”

“Clint, are you really going to try and guilt Steve? After what you did?”

“What I did? What are you-”

“Clint…” Wanda sighed, her voice barely audible over the running water. “Clint, you broke her arm.”

“No… No. I-I just pushed her. It… I just didn’t want her to see me like that. I just… Pushed her.”

Dishes clean, I left them to drain for a while, heading back to the table for the leftovers. Clint looked up at me with an unsual expression on his face. “Nat?”

“Hm?” I turned my head toward him as I started to gather the serving plates together.

“Could you come here for a sec?”

Glancing at Wanda – after all, she’d given the last order – I moved toward him when she nodded, standing before him with my head bowed obediently. “Let me see your arm.”

I winced, offering my uninjured right hand for examination.

I hope this one heals cleanly. I don’t want to have to inconvenience anyone with another hospital trip.

Clint cocked his head, smoothing back the sleeve. “There’s nothing there.”

“The other arm, Clint,” Wanda muttered, eyes rolling audibly.

He reached out to grasp my other wrist, and froze at the feel of the clunky cast beneath my sweatshirt. “… Can you… Could you roll your sleeve up for me, Nat?”

I obeyed immediately, despite the shame burning in my chest.

A Widow must be strong. Even when injured, they show no pain.

He cursed under his breath, tears filling his eyes. “Fuck. I really… I broke your arm. I… I broke your arm.”

“It’s okay,” I offered, smiling. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. And I have learnt. Thank you for the lesson. May I return to the leftovers now? I wouldn’t want them to spoil.”

He glanced at the other two heroes in horror, jaw agape. “Did… Did she just… Thank me? For breaking her arm?”

I waited patiently for him to release me, surreptitiously re-rolling my sleeve, hiding the stark white of the cast.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Clint. But I hope you have more luck than we did.” Steven pushed back his chair, but Wanda simply scoffed.

“You think I’m leaving her alone with him? In this state? Vulnerable? Suggestable? Not a chance.”

“What do you think I’m going to-”

“Gee, I don’t know, Clint. It’s not like you’d ever break her arm, is it? It’s not like you’d ever rape her?”

The silence was heavy, and I waited patiently for him to release me. “… Clint wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh? Maybe I know more about your precious Avengers than you do, Cap. Why don’t you tell him, Clint? Why don’t you tell him how you tied her to a pipe and forced yourself on her?”

“I-It… It wasn’t-”

“Oh, I know. ‘It wasn’t me’. But there’s no Loki to blame this time, Clint. So who’s your next scapegoat? Tony, for beating you up? Nat, for daring to care?”

“I-”

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m not letting that poor girl out of my sight. Did you know she’s alone now? No matter how damaged Nat is – at least she’s still here. She hasn’t heard from Widow all day.”

I waited patiently for him to release me.

“She… She hasn’t? But she can always feel them. Even when they’re not talking, she always knows they’re there.”

“What was it she said, Cap? ‘Widow is gone’?”

The soldier nodded reluctantly, his eyes on the table. “She… Yeah, that’s what she said.”

“There is nobody left that she can trust. So I’m going to make damn sure she can trust me.”

“I won’t hurt her, Wanda. I love her.”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

Clint only winced, and I waited patiently for him to release me. “… Friday?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Reinstate full biofeedback for both Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. And override all updates to the surveillance procedure. We want to be alerted if there is any loss of consciousness, blood loss, or pain response.”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“Is that really necessary-”

“I’m still not happy about-”

“That’s enough, both of you.” Steven’s voice was measured and clipped, Clint’s jaw twitching with irritation, and I waited patiently for him to release me. “Wanda, you might not want to admit it, but he has the best chance of bringing our Nat back. I get that you’re angry; trust me, you’re not the only one. But he can’t hurt her and get away with it – and if he tries, I’ll kick his ass myself. But no part of me thinks that he would ever deliberately hurt that girl. He’s loved her for years.”

“Isn’t that what they say about all abusers? ‘Oh, not him, he’d never do anything like that, he’s such a good guy, he loves her’-”

“I’m not an-”

“Enough!” Steven snapped, some of the careful calm slipping, and, to my shame, I flinched. “Wanda, we’re leaving. Clint, we’ll be checking in with Friday routinely. Just… Take her upstairs. Try and find our girl again. Both of our… People.”

When Wanda rose, my eyes cut to her in panic.

She gave me orders but he hasn’t released me but she gave me orders but he hasn’t released me but she gave me orders but he hasn’t released me but she gave me orders but he hasn’t released me but-

“Nat – Natty? You’ve gotta go with Clint, okay?” Her hand found mine, soft and reassuring, and I nodded with a smile.

“Okay, Wanda.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, Wanda.”

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