ataraxion | 002 -- text;

[ all the flipped tables. ]

I don't need the kid gloves, Tasha.

[ because it comes down to the creeping notion that they don't trust him. that they think he's still loki's plaything and isn't that just fucking smart of them if they are worried about that? who knows if natasha really beat all that out of him? ]

[ she deserves that. ]

I know.

[ clint's one of the only people she does trust, possibly the only person in her life she has no reason to doubt. that hasn't changed because of what's happened to him, even if he never stops doubting himself. and she knows where he is right now, she's been there herself too many times to recount. she knows that worry that it'll happen again, that whatever took over is lurking in the back of your mind waiting for another opportunity to take control again. she knows that worry that everyone around you is waiting for it to happen again, that they're discussing what they're going to do if it does happen again, if that means resorting to drastic measures if they can't fix it if it does.

she knows how that feels, and she knows better than to have held back, than to think he wouldn't be able to handle it. if clint's proven anything to her over the years, it's that he's capable of dealing with the hard shit. ]

I'm sorry.

Edited 2012-09-23 22:49 (UTC)

[ there's a long silence. clint let's it spin out and stretch thing before answering, weighing her words against the smears of blood in his ledger. sorry doesn't mean anything, that's what this world has taught clint. you can apologize until you're blue in the face but it doesn't erase what's happened. eases the pain of it, maybe, but what's done is done is done.

natasha though, she's always been in a class of her own. the rules have always bent and broken for her. she says she's sorry and clint lifts his eyes to her face, searching. when he answers, his voice is quiet. ]

This isn't how we do things.

[ he doesn't need to say before because she'll know what he means. natasha always knows what he means. ]

[ usually, she has the same disdain for apologies that he does. they mean nothing in the long run and even less the more often they're repeated. but sometimes there's not anything else to say, nothing else that makes one's feelings about what they've done clear.

he looks at her face, into her eyes, and she's quiet as she lets him search. most of what he'll find is concern, mixed with sorrow and genuine regret. she's searching his face, too. not looking for forgiveness or trust (both are something she'll have to earn back), but for some sign that he'll be okay after this. after everything else that's happened. ]

No. It's not.

[ she doesn't need to add and it won't happen again, because he knows she doesn't let mistakes happen twice. ]

[ he can read between the lines, pick up on exactly what it is she isn't saying. and he doesn't doubt her sincerity, but he just can't shake the thought that he's going to be cut out. he can't exactly blame them. where's the proof that he isn't compromised? they're just being cautious, and that's what professionals do.

it still makes his skin itch and prickle with something like betrayal, even if he can understand it. ]

I need to be in on this. I need it.

[ it's blunter than he thinks he should be. maybe erring on the side of too much, too honest, too transparently vengeful. but he can't help it. ]

[ she doesn't need proof, not when it comes to him, and she won't ask him for it. all she'd wanted was to make sure he was all right before dropping everything on him, but he was right - he didn't need to be coddled. what he needs is to be in on whatever attack plan they decide on, whether it's concerning loki or any other threat. she nods. ]

Okay.

[ there's something in his voice that cranks her worry up a few notches; a rawness and anger that almost scares her. she knows that he needs to be in on whatever they decide, if loki ever does become a threat. she just hopes that he doesn't turn on himself in the meantime. ]

Edited 2012-09-26 06:00 (UTC)

[ there's a pause. he doesn't know what's supposed to happen now, now that they've mostly had it out. he exhales a long, slow breath before gesturing at the room. ]

You can sit, if you want.

[ she doesn't know, either. she half expects him to ask her to leave, but he invites her to sit instead. so she does, setting her chair beside where he's seated. ]

There's more I need to tell you.

[ oh great.

clint's expression could not be any flatter if he were trying for it. ]

Like what?

[ this is going to go well. ]

You've been here before.

No, I haven't.

[ there's an air of...not exasperation, but something else. like a man bracing for a punch, maybe. ]

[ she doesn't say anything, just looks back at him, holding eye contact once she's got it. ]

Son of a bitch.

[ it's really the best he can manage in the face of this, of the knowledge that he's been here and doesn't remember it and has his head been fucked with again? [

[ she's quiet for a bit, trying to think of how to word exactly how this works. in the end, she doesn't know, so she just goes with what she does know. ]

It's happened before, to other people. They'll be here for a certain amount of time, disappear, and come back with a different number and no memory of their previous time aboard. There's a theory that they're just sent back to their original universe, but there are also people who've been sent back and come back who do remember their previous time here.

[ he rubs his hands over his face, breathes out a long, slow breath. ]

So what, I had a tour, went home and came back?

Something like that.

[ she sighs, rubbing at the back of her neck and looking at the floor before she starts to fill him in. ]

You came in on the seventh jump. Pretty soon afterwards, people started getting sick, but you were among those immune to the disease and you went with a group of others to help find the cure. We went back in after everyone recovered to check out the monsters that were guarding the science lab, and the jump was shortly after that. After it, you were gone.

And now I'm back.

[ and not remembering a damn thing. ]

[ nodding, she looks back at him. ]

Yeah.

[ there's a sigh. ]

Well, it could be worse.

[ which it usually could, where they were concerned. ]

[ she sighs again too, running a hand through her hair and down the back of her neck as she turns back to him, a grim smile on her lips. ]

Yeah. It can always be worse.

[ that should be their motto, he thinks. that or something just like it. ]

I'd say knock on wood, but.

Yeah. [ a beat. ] On this thing, it always does. Sooner or later.

[ he doesn't doubt that. it's morbid and pessimistic, but that's kind of their bread and butter what with the business they're in. ]

Anything else?

[ it's not quite a dismissal. clint barton never dismisses natasha romanoff, but there's still anger crackling under his skin that he doesn't know what to do with.

[ one of the best skills in her set is her ability to read people, to be able to tell what they're thinking and what they want without them having to say it out loud. so she knows what that tone means, knows that it's time for her exit even if he's not going to ask her to make it. so she stands. ]

No.

Edited 2012-09-30 21:16 (UTC)

[ he's quiet for a long moment, then he nods before looking down at the pieces of the gun in his hands. ]

Alright then.

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