An Unlikely Romance - The Avengers (Part 1)

Home Sweet Hell

"And this," Fury said, gesturing inside, "is your room."

You looked around with the least emotional face you could muster, eyeing all two of the objects in the room – a bed, and a nightstand. It couldn't have been more Spartan if Leonidas himself designed it. Wait, no, actually you'd just gotten out of a cell. Best not to antagonize Fury by criticizing his home decorating skills.

"So, I don't get to see your rooms? Let me guess, personal entertainment centers with cable internet, and PCs that could make Crysis look like Pong," you murmured, staring at the three of them, mostly because there was nothing else in the room worth checking out.

Well, perhaps what was best wasn't always what you wanted. Antagonizing Fury had become a bit of a pastime, after all.

"Doesn't matter what they have. You're not in chains, and that's something worth trading a thousand years of free cable for," Fury said, keeping a level gaze despite your antagonizing him. "From here on out, you're not my problem anymore. Agents Barton and Romanov will be keeping you in check, and helping you try to remember anything that might be of use to us. Once we're convinced we have all the intel we're going to get, and that you're not a threat to us or any civilians, we'll see about getting you a few more luxuries. Like hot water."

"Oh, way to drop a bombshell and just walk out," you shouted as Fury made for the exit door. "Seriously, no hot water?"

"Seriously," Clint promised, nodding his head. "Fury doesn't like spending resources on unknowns."

"Well... what now?"

"Now we play psychiatrist," Clint said, a little too excitedly. "Ever done a Rorschach test?"

"Clint, for the last time, your sketchbook is not a Rorschach test."

"The APA disagrees with you."

"No, they don't."

You were sad to say you had a feeling you'd miss Fury before too long. At least he didn't waste time.

~~~~

It was two-thirty in the morning, but sleep was not coming easily. Maybe your body wasn't on schedule? Who knew what your sleep schedule had been like in that HYDRA base, or what it had been before that. More importantly, how long had you been in a cell, with no concept of time? It could've easily been any of that, but it probably wasn't. More likely than not, now that you were finally somewhere you felt a little safe, you were starting to think more about how awful the situation you were in was. You'd been so focused on trying to stay alive and/or not get tortured that the full impact hadn't really hit yet, but you were starting to get there. As you dug through the refrigerator, you pondered what having no past would mean for your future.

"No identity, no work history, no social security number, no home, no job, no savings, no-"

You paused, letting out a long sigh.

"Nothing. Not even a name. Where do I go from here? I don't even know what foods I like, but I don't think it's... whatever the hell this is," you grumbled, picking up a container of what appeared to be kebabs.

"Shashlyk. And if you eat it, you die," Natasha's voice promised. You turned to the doorway to find her standing there, still in uniform, with raised eyebrows hovering over two eyes locked on the tub with laser-like precision. You very carefully set it down, then turned to face her.

"Sorry, midnight snack. Didn't mean to wake you."

"No big deal," she shrugged. "Wasn't sleeping anyway."

"Watching me, huh?" You asked, pretty sure this woman had no trouble sleeping when she needed to.

"You catch on fast," Natasha replied, smirking at you. You were starting to notice that even when she smiled, her eyes didn't always catch on.

"Lot of room up here to learn, when half of it's been wiped."

The defeat in your voice must have reached her, because she seemed to take pity on you. She strode over to the refrigerator and plucked a box free. Bachelor's special; a TV dinner.

"Half the food in here will wind up with you on a wanted list somewhere just for touching it, you need a food guide. Eat this. Fury bought them to cut back on the budget, but Clint's too lazy to microwave them for just a mediocre filler, and I'd rather cook my own food than touch one."

"Just right for the prisoner, huh?" You replied, smirking a little as you took it. "Thank you, though. I appreciate you trying to keep me alive. I think."

"You're not a prisoner," Natasha said. "If you were, you'd still be in a cell."

"Doesn't need bars to be a cell."

"You do catch on quick," Natasha said. She didn't sound nearly as amused this time. You silently cut open the TV dinner and prepared it while thinking over your next words carefully. As bitter as you were about the whole situation, as much as you knew she was only here because you were up past midnight, you knew this was the closest to outreach you were going to get.

"Sorry, I should be a little more appreciative, I guess," you began as you set the microwave and turned around to face her again. "As much as you guys are keeping me imprisoned, you did... technically free me first. I don't know if you're the good guys, bad guys, or somewhere in between, but you're keeping me safe, awake, and out of chains. Thank you, for at least this much trust."

"Two things. Nobody is as good or bad as you want them to be. Everyone's somewhere in between."

Natasha's words carried the weight of experience. It seemed like the only times her eyes matched what she was saying were when she spoke so cynically it almost hurt to hear.

"What's number two?"

"Food's done," Natasha said, tone immediately neutral again as the microwave went off a split second later. You were happy to have a subject change.

"Look, I- I'll head back, alright? Don't know if I'm gonna get much sleep, but there's no sense in you having to be out here. I can at least let you go back to your room. Even if we aren't sleeping, might as well enjoy somewhere to sit."

"Very thoughtful."

"I- I'm not trying to be an asshole. Really, I'm not," you said, rubbing at your temples, staring at the cooked food and only just now realizing you had no appetite. "This is all just a little... depressing, I guess. Ever since I stopped worrying about being stuck in that cell for the rest of my life, all I can think about is not having a past, no way to live, no proof or even an idea of who I am. I gotta ask... was Fury serious about helping you guys? About... you know, whatever he was offering? I was too busy shouting at him, but did he offer me a job?"

Natasha eyed you for a long moment, looking you up and down – more than once. When her gaze settled on your eyes again, you saw something in them. Softness. But... false softness. Because buried under that was a cold and calculating gaze that you hadn't seen focused on you since you were still in chains.

"Depends on what we find," she explained quietly. "We don't have the manpower we used to, but we're still tracking down HYDRA bases. If we find anything with info that exonerates you, proves you aren't one of them or trying to fool us, there's no reason for us not to trust you. Failing that, if you cooperate and help us out, you might be able to get Fury to trust you enough to let you in. As much as he trusts anyone, anyway."

"Reassuring," You said, nodding and rolling your eyes at the same time. "But I guess that's my only option. Might be the only way I can hope to figure out my past, too."

Natasha strode over to you as you finally retrieved the dinner. You didn't turn, but you could hear every step she took, and felt the warmth of her hand as she placed it on your shoulder.

"Word of advice, from someone who knows what she's talking about," Natasha whispered, her voice having a tone to it you didn't quite recognize.

"Don't worry so much about your past. Some things are worth forgetting."

"Do you... know something about me?" You asked, stiffening up immediately.

"No."

Nothing else. No details. By the time you turned she was gone, an impressive feat considering your ears were sharp enough to pick up on Clint's snoring from here.

What the hell was that about?