The Five Times Clint and Natasha First Met

Last chapter was pretty awful by my standards. Hope you find this one better even though it is quite short. Drop by and review!

(4)

The fourth time, she was Natasha - whoever Natasha was. It was a month since she opened the door to her flat in Sao Paulo and found Clint in the chair. A month had passed and there had been a man with an eye-patch. There had been a lot of yelling, there had been needles stuck into her flesh, there had been faces...too many faces. They had to lock her up, she remembered, because she was going out of control. And then, she had gone quiet. There were bruises on her skin, a terrible aching in her head. Now she woke, her arms and legs bound to the bed. A strange drumming sound filled her ears and something was crawling from inside of her - a monster with sharp claws trying to break free, scratching the inside of her brain. Her vision blurred for a moment, and then everything came into focus. Rather, his face came into focus.

"You're going to be okay, Natasha."

She tilted her head back, groaning as the pain gripped her. "You don't know that, Clint."

Clint did not say anything. She saw him approaching her and then his hand was on forehead. Everything felt cold.

"Your temperature's gone down," said Clint. "How are you feeling?"

"Not ecstatic at the moment." She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing down the ache. "How long have I been out?"

"Three days." He disappeared from her vision, and then he was back. He pushed something that felt like plastic against her mouth and she felt the coldness of the water as it touched her lips.

"Thanks," Natasha mumbled.

He put the glass away and began undoing the ropes around her arms.

"Are you sure that's safe?"

"You're fine now," assured Clint. He untied her legs, and when she could move freely again, she slowly sat up. The world spun into view and she had to put her hands on the side of the bed to steady herself.

Clint took a seat next to her. "You alright?"

"Better." She ran a hand through her hair and then turned to look at him. "Why are you being kind to me?"

"I'm never kind," said Clint. "I'm just doing my job."

She lowered her eyes. "So what's next?"

"You just need time."

She closed her eyes briefly. "I saw..."

"You don't have to tell me, Natasha."

"I saw..." She looked at him, and her eyes were frightened. "...fire. Fire everywhere."

"Natasha..."

"Fire. Blood. Worlds overturned. Monsters coming out of the sky and smoke everywhere. Then, I was a little girl again and there was...there was..."

"Natasha, you need to rest, okay?" Clint rested an assuring hand on her shoulder. "We know this isn't going to be easy."

"But I can't rest, Clint, you know that," said Natasha. "How do you sleep...when all you see is red? All the time."

"Like I said...you're not the only one." His hand dropped and he sighed. "I'm going to ask them to give you something...to help you sleep, okay?"

She just nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"Hey, look at me," said Clint. She slowly lifted her head again, and her green eyes found his. "You're not yourself now, but you will be soon, alright? Don't worry, I'm going to take care of everything."

As soon as he said it, he knew it was partly untrue. She was herself; at least, a part of her that she had never shown before - a part that was not supposed to be known. But he had seen it, he thought. He had seen it all along even though he had never been quite sure how.

"You're trying to save me," said Natasha, amused.

Clint smiled, and she thought it was the first genuine smile he had offered her. "No, not really. I'm just trying to keep you alive."

She smiled back. "You're not doing a very good job of it."

He laughed. She noticed how it lit up his face and that his eyes sprang to life. She decided it was quite nice, actually, whatever nice was...

They sat there together for a while without saying much.

And that was the fourth time.