JUNE OF DOOM

Detailed summary:

Thorn knocks heavily on the door, even though it leads to a commander bunkroom that is as much his own as it is Thire’s. Fox passes him by quietly.

Thorn knocks again.

He was on his way to the mess hall when Tal basically jumped him and commanded him to check on in their youngest commander.

Thorn knew that something was off with Thire. He has noticed, contrary to what Tal seems to believe, that Thire has almost disappeared from their communal life.

He wasn’t conked out in his bunk during rest cycles, he wasn’t there in the mess hall with them, and it has been a good while since Thorn has witnessed him bend over a desk and slice his way into whatever program or files someone deemed necessary.

There is no answer to his knocks, so he presses the door opener and steps inside.

The room is dimly lit, bathing it in an almost warm tone of grey. Thire is resting in the bottom bunk, back facing Thorn, armour stacked neatly at the end of the bed.

He seems to be asleep from what Thorn can tell— the curve of a shoulder lifting softly with every breath— so he gets busy removing his own armour in the half-dark, careful to not drop any pieces to not startle his sleeping brother awake.

He is worried about Thire, even though he is finally present for once. The concern has been slowly chipping at his nerves but until now he has been so busy with senate duty that he didn’t even think about addressing it.

He sets his helmet down on the tiny table and when he turns around, he meets Thire’s tired gaze. Oh.

“Sorry, vod. Didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

Thire shakes his head and for a moment Thorn thinks he will just settle down and pass out again but instead he stretches out his hand. His eyes are glassy and tired, and Thorn really can’t resist so he sits down next to Thire.

“Ulyc,” his brother mumbles and reaches under the blanket, and before Thorn can wonder or ask way, Thire is holding up a loth-cat in front of his face.

“Oh…” Thorn halts. The cat mewls at him before it starts to lick his face. There are bandages wrap around its upper body and one of its hind legs but other than that, it looks pretty content, satellite ears perked up attentively.

“Where did that one come from?” He asks Thire who puts the cat down again on his lap. It circles around itself a few times before curling up into a tight ball.

“Found him in the dumpster,” Thire deadpans. Thorn is inclined to believe his story.

“Him?” Thorn frowns.

“Hound told me he’s a he.”

Thorn shakes his head fondly and sits with his back against the wall, settling down next to Thire. His younger brother gently rests his temple against his shoulder. Thorn lets him, gladly.

“So, what’s his name?”

“Edee.”

Thorn chuckles roughly at that and reaches out to run his hand over the loth-cat’s back.

“Edee? Who did he bite, then?” He asks.

Thire huffs. “The questions you should be asking is: Who did he not bite. He bit my nose, snapped after Tal’s fingers, chewed through Hound’s helmet flaps and almost attacked Grizzer. He’s really mean.”

“And you let him sleep in your bed so he can murder you in your sleep?” Thorn teases and pokes Thire’s side.

He doesn’t expect the painful hiss that leaves Thire’s lips before he can suppress it but the way he turns his face away is a clear give-away anyways.

“Vod’ika…” Thorn begins.

Thire pulls away from him and lays down, again, back facing Thorn and he would really like to kick himself because this was the happiest he has seen Thire since Rys got killed and he managed to ruin this light moment.

Thorn sinks onto the mattress behind Thire and wraps an arm around him, very careful to not irritate any injuries, bruises or cuts or whatnot.

“Tal ordered me to talk to you,” Thire huffs, clearly annoyed by the prospect but there is also something vulnerable in his voice that makes Thorn think he isn’t emotionally equipped for anything more than tubbie worries.

“Yes, I heard. He cornered me on the way to mess,” he replies, truthfully. Maybe Thire just needs a little nudging in the right direction.

“Can’t you just tell him we talked?” Thire asks.

Thorn exhales for a long moment before he bumps his forehead against the back of his brother’s head.

“Sorry, vod’ika. No free passes today,” he answers, in an attempt of humour. Truthfully, he doesn’t really want to make Thire talk. He is here to listen, but he is not here to force heart-to-heart onto his brothers. That’s more Tal’s thing.

“I’ll do your night cycles for the rest of the week?” Thire attempts and Thorn  bursts out laughing, suddenly.

“Atin di’kut,” he teases. “You’ll do my night cycles so you can drop dead by Zhellday and get away from Stone’s intervention, yeah?”

Thire groans and buries his face into the flat pillow, making the loth-cat get up and stretch out to his full length by the trooper’s legs.

“I do not feel guilty!” Thire states, emphasizing every word, angrily.

Thorn frowns and halts for a moment before he squeezes his arms a little tighter around Thire’s waist.

“Good for you, vod. I’m still curious what exactly seems to be wrong with you then, if it isn’t guilt.” Thorn knows he is pushing it— that Thire is probably one step away from elbowing him off the bunk.

“I don’t feel guilty! Just sad. I miss Rys. We keep losing vode, but Rys is just… just Rys.” His brother. His best friend. Technically, his vod’ika, although he has supported Thire through so much osik that he sometimes felt more like his ori’vod.

“You know that’s okay, serim?”

Thire stays silent.

“Thire?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters for an answer.

Thorn sighs but Thire presses himself closer to the other’s chest so he will take it as progress.

Thire lets his eyes slip shut slowly. He is so very tired, he has barely slept over the course of the last two weeks, only tooka naps on whatever grimy couch had been unoccupied in the command break room at the moment.

Thorn’s brawny body is firm against his back, warm, and the arm that is draped across his chest and waist is comfortably heavy.

Sleepily, he reaches out to pet the loth-cat’s head. The cat is vibrating under the ministrations, letting out loud, steady purrs and sleepy meows in between.

“Thorn?” He mutters. He is so going to regret this. Kriff.

Thorn hums affirmative and the soft grumble runs up his spine.

“Can’t we just sit and be quiet?” He wouldn’t exactly call the sleepy tone he layers on his batch baby privileges because the guard is a patchwork of many different badges, but it most certainly has the same effect.

He is exhausted and he would probably say something stupid when Thorn pushed him to talk. Fuck Tal and his stupid orders. More like blackmail.

In addition to that, he is so very cozy in this little nesting situation with Thorn and the loth-cat, and a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders— he can’t risk saying something that will make Thorn leave. Not when he holds him safe right here.

“Sure, vod’ika. But promise me that you tell me when you need something?”

Thire nods. That sounds good, actually. “Ijaa,” he agrees.

“Good,” Thorn comments, before Thire can feel him settle down comfortable, holding him tightly.

"Natasha" you call out in a harsh whisper, trying not to get your captor's attention. But she doesn't stir, so you try a different approach, "Tasha"

She groans and her eyes slowly open, it takes her a moment to actually come to and understand her surroundings but once she does her posture shifts and she tests the strength of the chains. Her eyes fall on you then, chained up just as she was and her gaze hardens

"Are you hurt?" she asks, her voice soft

You shake your head, "Nothing serious, bump on the head, strain in my shoulders"

She nods, "Yeah, me too. How long was I out?"

"Not sure, I was out too. Only came to about five minutes ago"

The heavy metal door to the room swings open then, letting in the bright UV-light from the hallway. You blink rapidly, trying to focus on the figure that lingers in the doorway. But right now all you can tell with certainty is that it's a man

"Ah, you're awake" he says almost gleefully, a thick Russian accent wrapped around his words, "Good"

He takes a few steps further into the room allowing you to see him now. He's tall, well built, middle aged, has a crooked nose that tells its been broken at least once, and has a scar across his left cheek. If you weren't in this situation you probably would have laughed, he looked like every modern Mafia stereotype rolled together. Ironic considering he was mafia

"They say you don't have a heart, Black Widow" he says, making your attention snap back to him, "Cold, calculated, an assassin through and through."

Her jaw clenches at his comment and she tries hard not to glance at you. He seems to notice this and smirks, taking a step closer to her. Close enough to touch her. He grabs her chin and forces her to look at you

"But see, your pretty girlfriend there tells me that's not true" he says, letting her go and stepping towards you

"Don't touch her" Natasha tells him, her voice firmer and darker than you've ever heard it, "I swear if you harm her- "

But he cuts her off with a laugh, "I am not afraid of you. I have you chained, you are defenseless"

Its your turn to laugh then, "She is never defenseless"

"We shall see" he sneers. Then your head snaps back due to a well placed punch. You can taste blood in your mouth and can tell your lip is split

"You son of a bitch!" Natasha growls, surging forward only to be stopped by the chains

He laughs and grabs a fistful of your hair, "I have hardly even begun"

You hiss at the sharp tug but don't flinch away from him, you know it's better to not show fear in these situations. You hold eye contact with him, which only makes him tighten his hold on your hair, but you don't flinch. He smirks at this and lets you go

"I am going to enjoy this" he mumbles to himself as he steps back slightly

He throws a punch that lands against your ribs, causing the breath to leave your lungs. And before you can suck in more air he punches you in your stomach, making you let out an oomph noise

"Enough!" Nat shouts, her voice wavering slightly

He sneers as he turns around and Natasha braces herself as he approaches her, "You are not in control here, I am! I say when it is enough!"

His fist connects with her cheek and she easily rolls with the punch. She'd taken hits before, worse hits too, this was nothing to her. And if it kept him from hitting you again then it was worth it. Unfortunately for her, he knows her game, and he has no intentions of playing into it.

He harshly grabs her chin a second time, "I can do whatever I want, and you can do nothing about it. Remember that"

He releases her and heads over to a small table in the corner of the room. The table hadn't seemed important earlier upon waking up, but now you and Natasha can see that laid out on it's surface are multiple instruments to cause pain. Some rope, a hammer, a lighter, an assortment of pliers, a small billy club, and a few knives. The thought of him using any of those on you makes Natashas skin crawl and she knows she has to find a way out of this situation, and fast

He takes a moment to look over the tool before he settles on the club. He walks back over and without any hesitation strikes the side of your knee with it. The force of the hit causes your knee to buckle and you let out a shout of pain. Natasha clenches her jaw at the sound and once again tugs at the chains, willing them to give as he swings the club again. This time he strikes your side, the same one he had punched earlier. There's a distinct sharp pain in your ribs and you know at least one is fractured if not broken as you let out a shout

"Stop!" Natasha yells, "Just tell me what you're after. Is it intel? Are you using us as leverage against the team? Just, tell me what you want"

He smiles a sinister grin that allows you to see his poorly cared for teeth and he turns to look at her, "This is what I want. I don't need your secrets, and you'd never truly give them anyway. And I couldn't care less about the Avengers. I just want to break you, Widow"

"I will kill you for this, for hurting her. And I will enjoy it" she growls, rage taking over her features, "She is not a tool to be used against me"

"She is now" he states plainly, heading back over to the table. He sets the club down, grabbing a knife instead.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself for whatever was coming next. He cuts open your shirt, leaving you bare except for your bra. The sudden exposure of cold air makes you shiver, but what really chills you is the knife he presses gently against your skin

Natashas eyes widen in fear and she can feel her heart plummet, "No, wait!"

But he doesn't, he drags the blade down down your abdomen. Its not a stab, which does carry some relief to both you and Natasha, but it is still a painful gash. Tears slip down your cheeks as he repeats the action two more times to separate areas of your abdomen. Natasha's gaze is fixed on the blood that runs down your skin and soaks into the waistband of your pants

The man steps back a bit to get a good look at his work and that's the opening Natasha had been waiting for. She grabs the chain holding her to that pipe and uses her body as a pendulum, swinging herself forward with all her strength. She moves with grace and fluidity, and wraps her calves around the man's neck. He stumbles backward, surprised by her actions and this lets her pull him in closer, choking him with her thighs now. He makes a choked sound and flails, causing the knife to clatter to the floor

"I told you not to touch her" she hisses, squeezing his throat hard with her powerful muscles

His hands grapple at her legs, trying to pry her off, but it's really no use, he's already struggling for air. It doesn't take long for his eyes to roll back and hip body go limp. When she's absolutely certain he isn't faking it she lets him go and his unconscious body tumbles to the ground with a thud.

"Are you okay?" she asks you, her eyes filled with concern

You nod, "I'll be fine once we're out of here"

You can tell by her expression that she doesn't quite believe that, but she first has to focus on getting herself then you out of the chains, then she can worry about you. She looks back up above where the chain is secured and notices that the pipe that once held her chains up has become slightly loose, likely due to her using her entire weight to swing forward. And that works very well in her favor.

She grabs the chains again and starts to swing, and after a few swings uses her agility to swing herself upside down. She gets her feet wrapped around the same pipe she's chained to, making it shake and loosen even more. You watch in awe she starts to tug on it, using her strength and gravity to eventually yank the pipe free. She crashes to the ground hard and you wince at the sound. She lets out a groan as she rolls to her side

"Tasha!" you shout, "Are you okay?!"

She groans but slowly gets to her feet, "I'm alright"

Now free from the pipe the chain easily slips off her hands and she quickly makes her way over to you. She cups your face in her hands and brushes away some of your lingering tears

"It's okay detka(baby), I've got you" she whispers soothingly

She gives your lips a quick kiss, not minding the taste of blood from your split lip. Then she retreats from you and heads over to the table. She grabs the rope and one of the smaller knives. She heads over to the man and grabs the knife still laying on the floor. In one quick motion she slices across his neck and then as if she hadn't just ended a man's life she calmly walks back over to you. She uses the small knife to pick the lock on your chain in record time, and catches you before you hit the floor

She gently helps you sit down and does her best to treat your still bleeding cuts, "I'm sorry, its my fault this happened to you"

"Its not your fault Tasha, it's his and his alone" you assure her

She shakes her head and blinks back tears, "He hurt you to get to me"

"And now he's dead."you state, "You didn't let him hurt me Tasha, and you're the reason we're free now. This isn't your fault"

"It feels like it is" she quietly admits

"It isn't" you assure her again, squeezing her hand

She lets go after a few moments in order to look over the rest of your injuries and when she's satisfied that you're not at risk she gets up and searches the man. She finds a cellphone in his pocket and immediately calls the Tower for backup, knowing they can track the call to the location.. Before hanging up she stresses to them that she wants a medic too

She comes back over to you and sits down, then she ever so carefully pulls you into her lap. She holds you close but not tightly, she doesn't want to cause any pain to your bruised areas or cuts. You settle against her, finally letting yourself feel at ease and she buries her face into the crook of your neck

"For a second there, I thought I was going to lose you" she whispers, her voice strained, "I was so scared"

"I'll need patched up, but I'm okay, Tasha" you assure her, wrapping your arm around her, "I'm okay"

A few hours later you and Natasha have both been rescued, taken back to the Tower, and patched up in the med bay. You required some stitches, and knee brace and have been given pain medication to take while on your ordered bed rest. Which means you're currently cuddled up in bed with your girlfriend.

You're curled up against her, resting your head on her shoulder and hugging your arm around her waist. She has her arm wrapped around yours too and her thumb is currently rubbing soothing circles on your hip. The scent of her shampoo fills your nostrils, and its just the calming piece of normality you needed

"I love you" you murmur

She carefully tightens her hold, still being careful of your injuries, "I love you too, Y/n, so damn much. And if I had lost you today…."

"Shh Tasha, I'm okay. You didn't lose me, so don't go there mentally okay? Be here with me now, don't think about the what ifs"

"That's easier said than done" she admits softly

"I know" you tell her, reaching up to cup her cheek

Like a cat seeking affection she leans into your touch, "Just keep holding me"

"Of course Tasha, always"