Chapter Six

Mat didn't sleep much that night. He always found it hard to sleep in a new environment, constantly worried about attackers, sometimes in the form of physical people, sometimes in the form of night terrors that would keep him up for days.

It wasn't that the room was bad itself, in fact it was lovely, the wall of windows showing a skyline view unparalleled to any other Mat had seen, and the bed was big enough to comfortably fit three people, but Mat was too restless to sleep. He kept going over the events of the day, again and again. Had he made the right choice? Was he only going to draw Hydra to these people? And the thought that terrified him the most: was he even capable of changing? He was still clinging to his past, still unable to shake his perpetually emotionless state of being, the feel of something cold and cruel lurking in his mind, trailing bloodthirsty fingers along his skull.

Could he move on from a past that was as brutal as his? Was there any redeeming to be done? He was raised in a place that taught him to kill or be killed, and he had killed. Anyone and everyone they asked him too. He had to survive, he did it to survive...but how long would that excuse hold up? How long until he snapped? He was a person forged in blood and born of death, raised in a house of bone and fed on pain. He had only ever known himself as the White Widow, he hadn't had time to figure out who he was outside of that.

Was he anyone?

"Jarvis?" Mat spoke hesitantly, not wanting to be pulled further into the vortex that was his thought process. He had been told to ask Jarvis for anything he needed, and if he felt foolish speaking to thin air, it was overshadowed by the relief he felt when he was answered.

"Yes, Master Pauk?"

Mat cringed. "Please don't use that name. I'm just Mat."

"Very well then, Just Mat. Can I be of assistance?" Mat laughed a little at the voice's blank sarcasm. Then he hesitated again. What was he even going to ask? For a lullaby? A cup of warm milk to help him sleep? He didn't know if he was allowed to leave his room without James around or he would likely already be wandering around. But maybe...

"Do you know if...is James awake?" As soon as the words left Mat's mouth, he regretted them. It was the middle of the night, of course he wasn't awake! "Nevermind! Um, what I meant to ask is...where can I get some fresh air?"

-

The next twenty minutes found Mat- having snuck out of his room after being assured by Jarvis that he was allowed out- sitting out on the deck of the tower, dangling his feet dangerously off the edge, a small notebook he'd gotten his hands on propped on the rails. He hummed faintly as he scribbled notes and melodies out on a hastily-drawn music staff.

Music was the only release he had found from the mountain of unanswer-able questions he had piled in his head, and he took solace in the fact that maybe, if he could use his hands to bring something as pure and perfect as music into the world, he could erase all the terrible things he had done.

He heard the near-silent 'woosh' of the door opening behind him and sighed as he folded the notebook closed around the pencil. "Couldn't sleep?" James asked as he lowered himself down beside Mat, who hummed out a 'yes'. James nodded as if he understood. Maybe he does.

"Did Jarvis wake you?" Mat asked softly, afraid that he had already messed things up with the one person who seemed to believe in him. But to his relief, James shook his head. "You and I aren't so different," the man murmured. "Sleep is...much more of a luxury now than it was before." Mat only nodded in return. "But he did tell me you were awake, and that you had left your room. As your official guardian, I am to know your whereabouts at all times." James had put on a stupidly posh British accent for the last sentence and Mat felt his lips quirk up into a smile.

"I'm not a child," he said. "I think the term 'guard' is much more appropriate. I am no guest here, despite what you may think." Out of the corner of his eye, Mat saw James' smile leak away, and he almost felt bad for a moment. It was the truth, though. Mat wasn't welcome here, even James- no matter how hard he may insist otherwise- had felt enough distrust to seek out Mat the moment he'd left his room.

"I killed Tony Stark's parents," James suddenly said. He spoke the statement like it was a completely normal thing to say, like he was telling Mat that he preferred apples over oranges. Although there was a hint of regret, like he'd much rather prefer oranges, but couldn't help his love of apples. (Mat's analogy was getting away from him a little).

"I was still under Hydra's control, I didn't even know it was me until a few years ago. Tony tried to kill me." He laughed a little. "And now I live with him. He tolerates me. I don't think he's really forgiven me yet, but he understands that I wasn't me when it happened, I was Hydra. They were me, and it was them who killed his parents. My point is that no matter what you've done, it is possible to move on. And I'm pretty sure you were never brainwashed into murdering any of our parents, so." James shrugged, flashing what Mat was sure was a signature, charismatic smile that would have had most ladies swooning.

"They tried to," Mat whispered, too afraid to see the look on James' face. He had never told anyone the whole story of his escape from Hydra, he avoided even thinking about it. But James had been honest with him, so he may as well let this piece of himself go. Maybe it would be easier to sleep then.

"They what?" James asked, clearly having been expecting a different response.

"They tried to brainwash me. They were going to send me off, that's why I left." Mat used the term 'left' loosely. "I don't know if you know...but the Black Widow is famous in the Red Room. She was one of the most powerful of all of the women, and they all feared her, wanted to kill her, be her, or marry her. And when she somehow got out, it was like...for the first time, we had some kind of hope.

"We all hated it there, James. So much. You had no freedom, your will and your body weren't your own anymore. You were treasured but treated like a weapon, like a possession. If you stepped out of line, you got sent to the Readjustment Centre. And the realisation that Hydra wasn't as in control as they thought, that they could lose one of their precious Widows, it gave us all a sense of life, you know? That she did it, and maybe someday we could get out, too.

"I wasn't kept with the other Widows, my existence was...highly secret. But rumours travel fast, and Natasha Romanoff was an idol." Mat swallowed, knowing the rather gritty part of his story was coming up soon. "I was at the top of the food chain there, the most dangerous. So they called me in, and they told me to hunt down the Black Widow, and bring her back."

James had been listening quietly until this point, when Mat paused, eyes glossing over as he recalled the moment, like it was happening all over again. "What happened?" James prodded gently. Mat worked his tongue around his mouth.

"I said no. I wouldn't do it. Freedom was something we all coveted, in some sense or other, and she had become the symbol of the very freedom I craved, so I said no. They sent me to Readjustment for a week, then asked me again. I said no." Mat skated over what happened in Readjustment, not knowing if he could face it without losing his mind in some way or other, and he didn't want to accidentally hurt James. "They sent me back for two weeks. Then they asked me again. I said no. They said they were going to have me sent off to be...fixed. I knew what they meant, I wasn't stupid. So when they came to get me out of isolation the next day, I...I snapped."

Mat swallowed back the suffocating memories that soaked his eyes in red. "You saw the files," he muttered to the stars. "You know what happened after that better than I do. I woke up three days later in Jersey, pretty far from where my base used to be stationed, and I started over." Mat sucked in a breath, tipping his head back and willing the tightness in his chest away. "I'm so sick of running away, James," he breathed. "I don't want to keep hiding, looking over my shoulder. I want to find out who I am without Hydra, not the White Widow, but who I am."

Mat didn't realise he was crying until he felt James' warm, flesh arm wrap around his shoulder, pulling him into a hug, his metal arm coming up on the other side to fully trap Mat against his chest in a gesture of care that Mat didn't realise he so sorely needed, and he found himself struggling to stay silent as tears dripped down his face faster than they could soak into James' loose pyjama shirt.

Mat was just so tired. 

I really should be studying for finals but uh... ...i mean in order to fail the class, i need to get negative percents on the finals, so...

And this is technically studying right? RiGhT??? I mean, im taking an english degree to become an author so this is really just me being proactive and practicing skills for the future right??????