Faking it
Avengers fic
1,829 words
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It was all part of the plan. That was what Steve kept telling himself, even though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to warn Natasha about the men stealthily creeping up behind her. He knew she was aware of their presence. Everyone was, from their various observation points. They needed someone inside the facility, and Natasha had been the one to put herself forward as bait. The goons below would have picked her anyway, she had said. She was a woman, and they wouldn’t know any better. She would play damsel in distress, and use the information she gleaned on the inside for the benefit of the team. It was a play they had used a dozen times, and it still didn’t sit right with Steve. He knew she would tease him about it later, but he found it hard to worry about that as he watched the thugs grab her.
Natasha cried out, and allowed them to knock her sidearm out of her hand. With uncharacteristic clumsiness, she wrenched herself away and threw a weak punch. To anyone who knew Natasha Romanoff, it was obvious she was acting. Apparently to the men dragging her towards the compound, this was not so obvious. Natasha kicked and screamed until one of them clamped a hand over her mouth, and as Steve watched, she disappeared into the compound. Her decoy commlink was wrested from her in a flurry of static and shouting. The backup comms kicked in, and the noise settled into a clear feed of sound from inside the compound.
“You won’t get away with this,” Natasha was telling her captors.
“Shut up,” one of them growled. There was a thump, and Natasha grunted in pain. Steve winced. It had sounded like a kick from a heavy boot. Nothing too serious. Nothing worth breaking his cover over, he reminded himself.
“Alright, she’s in place,” Tony said. Steve blinked, and took a breath. They had to monitor the situation. He and Tony were Nat’s only safety net on the ground. Clint was above them, hovering high with Bruce in the shielded quinjet. Everything was in place. All they had to do now was wait until Natasha made her move.
She couldn’t yet, though. Steve knew it was going to be at least a few hours until the bugs she had dropped on the way in could work their way into the system and get them the information they needed. Until they could send Natasha the signal to go, they were stuck with a one-way link to her. They could hear everything, but they couldn’t talk to her.
“Good evening,” a voice said, over the comms. Steve had to assume it was one of the guards. No higher ranking HYDRA personnel were in the area, and the base was manned mostly by a skeleton crew.
“Mind telling me what you were doing snooping around our facility?” the voice asked. Steve focused on details. It was a man, and he had an American accent, which had a tinge of Southern to it. Steve couldn’t place it.
“Chester,” Natasha recited. It was a cover she’d selected earlier. “One-five-seven-nine-Alpha-Theta-four.”
“I just want to have a conversation.”
“Chester one-five-seven-nine-alpha-theta-four.”
“Chester, is it?” the man asked. “Are you an agent?”
“Chester one-five-seven-nine-alpha-theta-four.”
“Agent Chester, then. How did you get inside?”
Again, Natasha repeated the phrase. The man asked more questions, and was answered each time with the recitation of numbers and letters. He didn’t sound particularly frustrated, and Steve started to relax.
After almost fifteen minutes of brick wall questioning, there was a sigh, and the sound of a door closing. Steve shifted to get more comfortable, and listened. The door soon opened again, and Steve heard multiple sets of footsteps.
“Chief says you ain’t talking.”
“Chester one-five-seven-nine-alpha-theta-four.”
“So he said to come have a little fun with you.”
“Chester one-five-seven-nine-alpha-theta-four. Chester one-five-seven-”
Natasha’s recitation was cut off abruptly, and Steve jerked when he heard the sound of a slap crackle over the comms. Natasha gasped, and then spat.
“Chester one- Ches- no- what are you-”
She cried out, and Steve curled his hand into a fist. What followed sounded like a flurry of punches. Steve had prepared for this. He knew torture was always a possibility, Nat had even talked to him about it before they’d left. Don’t let it get to you, she’d said. It might happen. It might sound real. I can take it. I can handle it. He had believed her, but now… now it was different. It was actually happening, and he had to sit there listening to it. It was a lot to bear.
“Rogers.”
It was Tony. Steve started guiltily.
“Here, Tony.”
“You okay?”
“Mmhmm.”
There was a silence between them, broken only by the grunts Natasha was making as she was struck repeatedly.
“It’s okay,” Tony said, although his voice sounded slightly quiet. “She knows what she’s doing.”
There was a little more silence.
“No,” Natasha said, sounding frightened. Steve bit his lip. “No, don’t- please- please-”
She screamed, and Steve let a huff of air escape his lips. He didn’t want to listen, but he couldn’t. If she said the password - Tony had joked about safewords before - then he had to be ready to jump into action.
“She’s a good actor.” It was Clint, chiming in from above. “Don’t worry. She’s okay. She-”
A louder scream cut them off. It was ragged, and full of pain and fear.
“Clint,” Steve said, uneasily, “are you sure? It sounds real.”
“It always does,” Clint said. Steve wasn’t sure, but he thought he might be hearing doubt in Clint’s voice too.
“Please!” Natasha shouted, hoarsely. “Please, don’t- don’t! No!”
More screaming, then soft sobbing. Steve could feel bile in his throat. This was worse than feeling the pain himself. He wanted so badly to jump in and do something, but he knew he couldn’t. She hadn’t said the phrase he needed to hear.
“What if she can’t say it?” he asked.
“What?” said Tony.
“What if she forgets it? What if she can’t say the word, and she needs an extraction and we can’t get to her?”
“Calm down, Rogers,” Tony told him, although there was a shake to his voice as Natasha’s sobs echoed down the link. “She’s… she’s just acting. It’s fine. She’s fine.”
“Help me,” Natasha moaned. “God, please, someone- no, no no no, please, no-”
She screamed again, crying out for help, praying out loud. Steve had never heard anything so horrendous. He could only picture what was going on in there. Horrible things. Terrible things. He could barely contain himself. He knew the others would be feeling the same way, so ready to jump in and save their teammate, their Natasha. They couldn’t let this go on much longer.
“Got it,” Clint said. “Bruce has the data. Sending the signal now.”
Steve heard three distinct beeps, and suddenly the crying stopped.
“This has been great, guys,” Natasha said, suddenly sounding like her old self. “But I have to be going.”
There was laughter, which abruptly turned to shouts of alarm and screaming from the men as the link hissed with noise. Steve couldn’t follow what was happening just from the sound, but it was definitely violent. After a few minutes, he heard Natasha again.
“Ready for pickup,” she said. “I’ll be at the rendezvous point in two minutes.”
Steve got to his feet, and began the jog through the trees to the meeting point. When he got there, Natasha was already waiting at the treeline, and Tony was just emerging from the forest. He heard the sound of engines, and before he could say anything, the quinjet appeared. The three of them clambered on board, and before they knew it they were away.
Steve immediately cast off his shield and went to Natasha’s side, grabbing the medical kit as he went.
“Where’s worst?” he asked feverishly. Tony opened the kit and began rooting around in it. Bruce climbed out of the copilot’s seat and joined them.
“Grab gauze,” he directed. “Suture kit- get that disinfectant. God, Tony, get out of the way, I’ll do it.”
“Nat,” Steve said. “Nat? Nat, are you okay?”
“Get off me,” she said, waving him off like he was an irritating insect. “I’m fine, what- Bruce, what are you doing? Get that out of my face.”
Steve moved back, bewildered. Natasha pushed Tony away with her foot, and took hold of the kit herself. She zipped down her suit and rolled it off her top half, revealing some shallow cuts and bruises.
“What…” Bruce mumbled.
“You’re not…” Tony continued.
“I told you,” Clint said, shaking his head. Natasha looked at the three of them, and her gaze softened a bit.
“Idiots,” she sighed. “Those guys barely knew how to hold a knife, let alone torture someone.”
“So…” Steve mumbled. “You… that was all…”
“I’m excellent at faking it,” she smiled. She looked to Tony, expecting a quip, but he just sank down into a seat and ran his hands over his face. Steve felt embarrassment pulling the blood to his face, and he took a seat beside Natasha.
“It’s okay,” she said, her voice gentle. “I take it as a compliment.”
“I thought…” he mumbled.
“I know,” she said, taking his hand. “Come on, Steve. It’s okay. I’m alright. Here, help me with my back.”
She turned, and handed him a pack of band-aids. Sheepishly, Steve took the box, and stuck the little plasters down over the cuts on her back.
“Tony,” she said. “Could you grab the antiseptic wipes from the kit?”
Tony did as he was told, and Natasha handed Bruce the suture kit.
“There’s a deeper one on my shoulder that probably needs a stitch or two,” she said. Bruce sat on her other side and began to clean out the cut. Natasha sat back and let the three men tend to her. Only Clint caught the amused glance she threw him, and he chuckled to himself as he piloted them towards home. If the team needed to look after her to recover from their ordeal, then so be it. Apparently, it had been harder for them to listen to than it had been for Natasha to endure it. So, she squeezed Steve’s knee, and Bruce’s hand, and nudged Tony gently with her foot, making contact with all of them one by one. They seemed calmer, and each one felt better knowing they were helping a little.
When they arrived back at the compound, the three of them stood awkwardly by as Natasha climbed down from the jet. She smiled, and kissed each of them on the cheek as she passed.
“Thanks, boys,” she murmured, turning away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
