Work Text:
natasha hits the floor, knees pressing hard into the metal grate below her and emerald hues are glassy. the world around her is quaking, hypnotic shots of red and black. the pleading cries of young girls, haunted russian lullabies and the shuffling of ballet slippers across wood pleated floors send a shock up her spine. she's reliving a nightmare, another harsh winter, another murder, another day in the academy.
all the others are slowly recovering from the witch's attack and yet, nat cannot shake it --- can't even process whatever the fuck clint is trying to say. everything drones out and she cannot get up, limbs feeling like jelly completely out of her control.
her past haunts her like vengeful phantoms, wanting to make her pay for the immense amount of red in her ledger. natasha has blood on her hands, that's no secret but she cannot shake the complete disturbed visions attacking her now. whatever that girl had done to her was a lot more effective than any of them had originally expected.
she was paralyzed --- even as clint scoops her up into his arms, holding her tightly dragging her upwards onto her feet but she cannot stand. can't shake the flashes of blood staining the snow, gun shots and the overwhelming guilt falling upon her now. everything was flooding back, blending in all at once and nat is struggling to gather air into her lungs.
it feels like she's gone a couple rounds with thor, gotten the wind knocked out of her and she can't get the fuck up. it's a losing game and while she's well aware for most of her life it'll be like this, the last thing natasha had expected was for it to be this bad. every logical part of her brain was telling her to calm down, it's nothing more than a panic attack --- it'll pass eventually but instead she finds herself choking on air, holding onto clint for dear life.
get me out, she wants to scream --- beg clint to make it stop, get it all out of her head and it barely dawns upon her that maybe this is what it felt like under loki's control. it had been days for him, so much time trapped in his own body unable to escape. it's a terrible feeling --- almost like drowning. fighting to stay alive, trapped under the ice kicking and screaming for a life that just was not all that worth it.
" i've got you, " his voice is lowered, softer than it had ever been around the rest of the team. the two of them held far more secrets than needed, ones that she didn't care for tony aware of. maybe natasha had grown a little too fond of barton, the two falling closer after his divorce with bobbi back in '11. it had been nothing but a close friendship until nights spent helping each other through nightmares became entangled within shared sheets with one another, stealing hot and heavy kisses when no one was around. clint was her person, always had been despite that before a couple of years ago it had been nothing but a simple friendship.
he'd dragged her out of her darkest place, helped her find meaning in a convoluted life style. her specific skill set had been put to use and she'd been in his debt since. 'course, he never saw it that way. natasha had come to be his partner in crime, the go-to on missions and there wasn't anywhere he would go without her. they were a package deal.
he repeats the sentiment again, assuring her that regardless of how shaken she was --- the uneasy feeling settling in her bones that he was there for her. the ear piece scratches with transmissions, stark asking something she cannot pick up before clint speaks up again noticeably more tense than before. that isn't going to happen tony, and ends the conversation just like that.
" clint? " the russian muses, green hues pouring into his own baby blues. " get me out of here, "