Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yelena waited at attention, her senses, and nerves on edge. It had not taken long for word of the bombing at Dreykov’s office, in Budapest to reach the Red Room. The place had been put on lockdown, every widow had been cuffed, and secured in their rooms. Guards standing in the corners, watching the girls’ every move. The hallways were constantly being patrolled. The cameras in every room swiveled on their mounts, surveying every crevice of the building. Older widows that had been trained with the star student that had been taken, had yet to be returned. 

 It was not long before Yelena was ripped from her bed, and marched down to the general’s office. Yelena knew it was her affiliation with Natasha that had put her in this position. She had not had contact with her sister since they had been forced into this place, she hadn’t even ever gotten a glimpse of her for as long as she has been here. However long that had been.

She licked her lips, and took a deep breath. Yelena fought to control the shaking in her body, racking her brain for any information she could give them. She had been taught to lie, it wouldn’t be difficult depending on who was interrogating her. 

Yelena froze her mind going blank, as fear shot through her. The office doors situated behind her, slammed open, hitting the walls they were attached to. She was as tense as a wound up spring ready to burst. The thundering, clomping sound of the guards headed towards her, sent a cold shiver down her spine. Along with the heavy steps of- 

Dreykov.

Yelena clenched her jaw, as the right side of her head exploded in pain. Her head whipped to the left, her legs nearly buckling from the force of whatever hit her. Before she could recover another blow was delivered to the same place, this one sending Yelena crashing to the floor. Blows rained down on her. They aimed for any vulnerable place she left exposed to them, Yelena could only curl up into as tight of a ball as she could trying her best to protect her stomach, and head. 

She had no idea how much time had passed before they stopped beating her. She didn’t get any chance to figure it out, as a large gloved hand gripped her hair at the base of her braid, dragging her to her feet. Yelena wobbled trying to keep upright, her blurry vision, and the dizziness she felt did not help. The hand gripping her hair tugged her head back, and up. Forcing her on her tippy toes, with her head pulled straight back. Yelena could feel the blood slipping down the sides of her face, and neck. Her face felt puffy, and warm. As did the rest of her body. 

A gloveless hand, with a distinctive clamminess gripped her throat. Yelena involuntarily whimpered, the hold was tight around her throat, making it slightly difficult for Yelena to breath. Dreykov leaned in close to Yelena’s face, he towered over her as he looked down on her. She couldn’t make out any details of his face, she didn’t really even know if he was saying anything. Her ears or her brain just weren't working. Yelena was keenly aware of his humid breath blowing across her face, but she couldn’t hear him.

She felt her legs get swept out from under her, the hand holding her upright by her hair shoving her head down to follow the rest of her body. Pain was the only thing Yelena was able to register, she was so oblivious to the outside world that she did not notice her clothes being stripped from her body. Or Dreykov spreading her legs apart pushing her underwear aside in order to stick his chubby fingers inside of her. His other hand unzipped his jeans, pulling out his penis. Dreykov stroked himself hard, aligning himself at her entrance. He leaned down towards Yelena’s ear gripping her face in his free hand.

“I assure you that your sister's betrayal will never be repeated, I'll be sure to use you as the living example as to why you don’t go against your family.” He leaned in closer. “You will pay for her sins for as long as you live.” Yelena choked back a wail.

Dreykov began raping her, pounding into her as deep as he could go. His fingers digging into her hips, his rhythm strong, and unforgiving. Yelena wanted to scream. Scream for him to stop, for someone to stop him, for Mama, for Natasha. For the blue-haired girl who would give Yelena piggyback rides, and sneak her candy from Papa’s stash. 

Yelena isn’t sure when she loses consciousness. As she came to, in a pitch black room, she knew her punishment was not over. The floor was cold, and hard, her mouth was gagged. With her wrists, and ankles bound, behind her back. Unable to move or see as she waited. Silently begging Natasha to come back soon. Yelena knew her sister would come back for her, she had always looked after her when they were together. She would still do it now. 

Yelena was right in some ways. Natasha did come back for her… 14 years later…

Chapter Text

Natasha could say one thing, she was definitely getting too old for this. As much as she teased Clint for being much more cautious than he used to, with his crackling ankles, and knees. He was right. There was definitely an age limit on field work, or at least the type of field work that currently had her slinging Hydra soldiers over her head. Natasha, Clint, and their second youngest recruit Kate, were currently deep inside an isolated Hydra base in a remote part of Sokovia. The other Avengers were keeping up a relentless assault on the outside of the base, keeping as much of Hydra’s focus on them. Driving out any soldiers currently on the inside, giving the trio currently sneaking through their walls the best shot at what they came for. Intel. 

The Avengers along with S.H.I.E.L.D resources, were slowly working their way through known Hydra bases, and remote safehouses. Attempting the impossible; find the head of the snake, and cut it off. Permanently. While the team knew it would not be easy if near impossible, the sheer mountain of people Hydra has under its belt was frankly unnerving.

Regardless the team persisted, currently working off a more not so reliable tip. Bucky’s. The former Winter Soldier while currently working with Steve, and his therapist to very slowly retrieve his memories. Had been having recurring flashbacks of the base the team currently found themselves at. Bucky hadn’t been able to give much information about it besides its general area, and a few blotchy recollections. Which the therapist, and himself admitted may not be reliable. That had been enough for Steve. While the others had urged Steve to not act immediately, he refused. Citing he would do the mission himself if no one else wanted to. Tony was quick to call him an idiot, but agreed to come with him. If only to come in, and save the day due to the obscene lack of planning. 

The trio were currently on the third underground level of the facility, headed for the fourth. Tony’s technology had shown the building had 5 upper levels, and 4 lower ones. The lower you went the more secure, and guarded they became. Every level they cleared so far seemed to have stripped clean, or in many cases burned, and destroyed. Natasha had diligently checked over every smashed device they came across. Checking to see if anything could be salvaged in order to recover what the devices held. Clint had taken to rummaging through the ashes of burned papers, and folios. Coming up empty as well.

Now as they stood at the door that would lead them onto the fourth level, they rehashed their plan. Trying their best to subtly remind Kate to not to get in the way, and to not act impulsively

“Am I clear Kate?” Clint had asked. Kate looked up at him, her eyes beaming brightly with adrenaline. 

“Loud, and clear Hawkeye!” She said, giving a salute. Clint just sighed, looking at Natasha. She just shrugged, giving him a subtle smile. They both knew she hadn’t been listening. 

“Alright on three,” Clint said, readying himself right in front of the door, an arrow knocked. 

“One…” Kate mirrored Clint’s pose on the right side of the door. 
“Two…” Natasha took a steadying breath from the other side, clicking the safety on her gun off. Her hand reaching out, grasping the knob firmly. She gave Clint a quick look, his eyes glanced over to her. A silent nod passed between them.
“Three.” Natasha shoved the door open, before ducking back behind the wall. Allowing Clint to take the first shot. A loud concussive blast echoed up the long winding staircase that had just come from Clint's arrow. The floor beneath them shaking slightly. 

“Woah!” Kate gushed, “That was so cool! You have got to let me try one of those!” 

“Not a chance, rookie.” Clint dismissed her, quickly stepping into the room. Natasha smiled to herself following closely behind Clint taking up clearing his left, Kate on the right. The fourth floor they currently found themselves on appeared to be one large sloping, circular auditorium. A small stage placed in the center, a large spotlight illuminating it from above. The room was empty, broken laptops, toppled chairs, desks, and illegible papers strewn about. Natasha was uneasy about it all, she would have preferred the whole room to be littered with Hydra soldiers, and scientists. Least then she’d know that there wouldn’t be any explosive surprises in store for them. Clint seemed to be just as nervous as her, as he quickly called Kate over to him. Kate had begun to object, saying she was fine, and that no one was here.

“Kate! To me now!” He snapped at her. Kate ducked a bit at his tone, quickly following his orders falling in line behind him. Natasha was tempted to join the pair, but didn’t. She knew that if there was a trap waiting for them, being huddled together like one big target, wouldn’t bode well for any of them. 

Natasha shot Clint a quick look, he met her eyes, both of them trying to wordlessly work out a plan. The sound of shoes squeaking across the floor from Natasha’s left, broke them both from their wordless conversation. She whipped around, her gun searching for the source of the noise as she quickly made for cover. Clint, and Kate hot on her heels as they ducked behind the nearest isle. Pressed up against the desks, Natasha peered over the edge of the toppled furniture. Scanning the aisles across from them. There was no sign of the person. She continued to scan the area, Clint beside her reached into his suit pulling out a small, metallic disk. He clicked the center of the device, it lit up into a bright icy blue ring that slowly started flashing. Natasha signed to Clint the general area that she heard the footsteps, he nodded before flicking the device out towards the direction Natasha had told him. 

The device could be heard skipping across the floor before a small boom echoed throughout the room sending a cloud of white smoke to encase a the area. On cue both assassins leaped to their feet, closing in on the blast zone in seconds. 

“Oh….” Kate quickly scrambled to her feet, knocking her own bow. Natasha, and Clint waited on opposite sides of the quickly dissipating smoke. Each keeping one another in their peripheral view. Both keeping a chair or desk in front of them, in case of the mystery person decided to retaliate. As the last remnants of the smoke disappeared the three Avengers jolted forward weapons aimed at the person now lying un-moving in the middle of one of the isles. 

Natasha crept closer keeping her gun aimed at the balled up figure on the floor. She took in their appearance, checking for any signs of weapons. It was a woman, dressed in a tactical outfit not much unlike Natasha’s, her caramel hair done up in a tight braid. There were three visible weapons on her that Natasha could see from her position. A pistol on her left thigh, a small knife attached to her calve, and another small blade sheathed on her inner forearm. 

Natasha took a few more cautious steps toward her, stopping a few feet away. She knelt down to take a better look at the woman. The woman looked young, not being older than her mid-twenties. Her slightly crooked nose told many stories of being repeatedly broken, the widow bites attached to her wrists making Natasha’s blood run cold, and her body tense. She hesitantly looked down to the woman's waist, “fuck.” 

“Nat? What is it?” Natasha looked at Clint, her disconcerting expression making him all the more uneasy. As Natasha was about to speak, a leg kicked out sweeping her legs out from under her. The woman launched herself from her back onto her feet, pulling her pistol, while taking aim at Clint, and Kate. Clint turned at the sight of her pulling her gun, tackling Kate into the nearest pile of chairs. Just as two shots were fired, Natasha jumped to her feet aiming to disarm the woman. The woman turned, and they both engaged one another. Natasha quickly disarmed the woman, twisting her wrist until it snapped, she pulled the woman closer before delivering a hard elbow to her face. The force of the blow snapping her head back, blood spurting out of her nose as she huffed. Natasha quickly switched her position, grabbing her shoulder, and grasping her throat. She swung a leg out, knocking the other woman off her feet, before using her strength to slam her back onto the floor. 

As the two started grappling on the floor, Clint rushed to Natasha’s side. “Get the widow bites off her wrists.” 

Clint wasted no time unhooking the weapons from her wrists, the woman screaming, and fighting futility underneath Natasha. Clint with the woman's wrists clasped tightly between his left hand, reached behind him into his belt, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. 

“Cuff her hands behind her back.” Clint nodded. Before Natasha, and him quickly yet not very easily flipped the thrashing woman onto her stomach. Cuffing her hands tightly, the metal clicking shut, biting into her wrists. The sound makes Natasha flinch internally. Memories she had deeply buried, began slowly crawling their way up from the dark. Trying not to let herself be consumed by them, she began to pat the woman down. Removing weapon after weapon as she went. 

“Kate?” Natasha asked after taking a second to scan Clint for any signs of injury. On cue Kate popped up from behind one of the desks, unharmed besides a slight bruise beginning to grow on her cheek. Natasha sighed, both from an unexpected wave of exhaustion sweeping over her, along with a feeling of dread. The four of them all took a few moments to collect themselves, the woman long since stopped fighting. Natasha did not recognize the woman under her, trying as she might to jog her memory; the woman was just not familiar. She was 14 years removed from that place, so was the woman. Wasn’t she? If the woman was the age she looked she couldn’t have been older than 11, maybe 12 when she killed him. She KILLED him. The place is gone, him, all the madames, and the guards, and…

“-Nat. Natasha!” Clint’s voice jarred her from her thoughts. Natasha glanced up to look at him, he was kneeling beside her. His left hand rested gently on her shoulder, squeezing slightly. He gently grasped her arm, guiding her to stand up on her own. Once she was standing, she took a step back. Allowing Clint to grab the woman, hoisting her to her feet. The woman's head was trained on the ground, her eyes fixed on her feet. A chill crawled up Natasha’s spine, her brain was doing its best to drive back up a place, and things she’d much rather forget.

“We need to go.” Natasha said, reaching up to her ear piece. “Stark, is the way out for us clear?” A few grunts could be heard, “Your path is clear, Three Musketeers.” 

Natasha could feel a twinge of anger in her fingers, making them twitch. “We are headed out-” 

“Did you find anything?” Steve cut in, an underlying tone of hope hidden in his words. 

“No.” Natasha said quickly, looking behind her. The woman still had her head, and eyes pointed down. “But we have someone. Have Happy clear a room at the tower, strip it down to nothing for when we arrive. No windows.” 

“What no other identifiable pieces of information?” Tony quipped. “Guy? Gal? Blond, short, green eyes, or is it blue? Hasn’t seen the sun in-”

“Enough!” Natasha snapped. “Get him to clear a room for when we arrive.” Natasha glanced back to look at the woman still in Clint’s grip. She had her head slightly pointed upwards, peering through her lashes. “No one besides us are to know about her. This stays under the radar until I say. Am I clear?” 

“Can’t do that Nat.” Steve piped up. “Any Hydra personnel we take get taken back to S.H.I.E.L.D for questioning. It’s too dangerous to bring them to the tower.”

Natasha was about to snap back at him, when Clint whistled getting her attention. 

“We need to start heading out.” Clint looked at her, his eyes filled with nothing but understanding, and patience. “Nat… S.H.I.E.L.D won’t find out about her, until we know more. Until you are ready. Let me deal with Steve, just focus on getting us out of here.”

Natasha sucked in a long breath through her nose, nodding as she let it out.

“Let’s go.” 

Without another word Natasha turned, and began leading the way out. Kate took up the rear of the group, keeping an eye behind them in case of an ambush. Kate quickly got lost in her own head, as Clint was giving a very short-formatted version of Natasha’s past. Her eyes kept going from the captive woman, back to Natasha. 

It didn't take long for the group to make it back up to the main level. There were no Hydra soldiers trying to intercept them, and by the sounds coming in from outside the building, the fighting had died down. Natasha, and Kate did a quick sweep of the area with their eyes, as they made their way to the door. They both situated themselves on either side weapons steady, as Natasha reached for the handle throwing the door open. She jerked forward, nearly shooting the figure currently trying to recover from receiving a metal door to the face. Steve.

Natasha let out a very sharp, quick breath through her nose. Steve groaned, removing his hand from his face. He opened his mouth to tell her to quit taking her anger out on inanimate objects, but the fire combusting in her eyes, immediately made Steve close it. She continued to stare him down, her expression set in stone, her entire posture rigid, and unmoving. If Steve wasn’t slightly afraid of her at the moment, he would’ve made a lighthearted joke about S.H.I.E.L.D.S diminishing standards. Shifting uncomfortably he glanced behind the widow, Kate had decidedly kept her distance. Clint watched him with narrowed eyes, he motioned with his head back towards Natasha. Right.

“Umm,” He started, rubbing at his neck. “Fury has been informed the base was a dead end, Tony has got Happy clearing a room like you asked.” He stopped, gauging her reaction before continuing on with his spiel. She remained the same.

“She will be kept under wraps until we know more. But you have to give us more information on who she is, then what Clint gave us.” He said, a bit more sternly, crossing his arms. “This is a lot bigger, and more serious than any of us here know. And I will not have anyone on this team being kept in the dark, especially considering this woman is a part of a whole different criminal organization. They need to be informed. For our safety, and hers.” 

As Steve finished his speech, Natasha remained quiet, and unreadable. Steve couldn’t do anything besides hold her gaze, and wait for her to make the next move. He would not be able to budge on the conditions he gave her. What she was demanding was too risky. It went against the agreement between the Avengers, and S.H.I.E.L.D. With S.H.I.E.L.D being a resource they couldn’t afford to lose, and if this woman was a part of something bigger… They were going to need all the help they could get.

Natasha started forward, Steve stepped aside letting her go. He let out a breath rolling his shoulders, looking back to the others. Kate was staring wide-eyed, and slack-jawed. Clint told her to head back to the quinjet, “R-Right! Right…” Kate hesitated for a second longer, before quickly jogging out of the building. The two men returned their attention to one another.

“You are certain she isn’t Hydra?” Clint shook his head. “She isn’t.” Clint started to head for the exit, keeping a firm grip, and eye on the woman. Steve took a moment to look her over. She was in a uniform similar to Natasha’s, braided hair, same belt buckle.

“Does S.H.I.E.L.D have some sort of underground assassin program I'm not being told about?” If Clint could’ve clocked him in the face he would’ve. “Nat will explain.” He said stiffly, pushing past Steve heading towards the jet.

“But you know?” Steve followed after them. He wanted answers, and he knew Natasha was going to be giving short ones. Clint stopped, turning slightly to stare Steve down. 

“I said that Nat will explain. And if I find out you start cornering her, or pushing her well past what she is willing to share at the moment-” He tapped his knife. “-I’ll be sure to put an end to it.” Clint turned, and began the walk back to the jet again. 

Steve stood there dumbstruck. He had a million questions, and a thousand doubts running through his head. This was not what he was expecting to discover, or in this case uncover when they went on this mission. As he continued towards the quinjet, he couldn’t help but have a feeling that whatever was about to happen, was not only going to push the entire team past its limits. It may also tear it apart.

Chapter Text

Natasha had been leaning against the wall opposite to the room, currently holding their guest since they had returned. Her outward behaviour to anyone else would appear she was bored, and relaxed. Internally Natasha was a mess. As soon as Clint had exited the room, sealing the woman inside. She had lost the futile fight with her mind. Everything around her had quickly faded out, any outside stimuli had vanished. Steve’s attempts to talk to her fell on deaf ears, Clint had quickly guided him away from her. The other Avengers were quick to scatter when they returned, the tension in the building couldn’t have even been cut with a knife. 

Her mind had dragged her down. The recurring memories of blood staining her hands, dozens of faceless girls clawing at her face as she strangled them, a woman who’s idea of perfection nearly broke her. These memories she could handle, those are the ones she relived everyday. She crossed her arms, her fingers digging into her jacket. The memories she was seeing of a woman whose touch was said to be metallic, and bruising. A man who she was warned would not hesitate to beat her, at the slightest hint of disobedience. She had to push these thoughts away, she was not in control if they were returning. She didn’t want to remember… A three year old girl with uncontrollable curls, and no ability to speak. A toddler with so much fear, and caution trying to climb a tree in order to cheer up her grumpy big sister… 

Natasha had isolated herself from her so-called “family.” The four of them weren't long into the mission. Nearing 4 months any progress that may or may not have been made, had not been shared with her. Melina, and Alexei, her fake parents, were very purposely keeping her out of the loop. Melina infuriated her most, the older widow was meant to teach her. Show her the best way to manipulate the others, keep up with her sparring, anything. Instead she left Natasha alone for the most part, more preoccupied with the overwhelmed, frightened toddler. 

Yelena was a meek little thing. When she met the three of them she had broken down into tears, trying to get back into the vehicle that had brought her. The man transporting her had ripped her back out of the car by her hair, tossing her back towards the trio. Melina had acted immediately scooping the wailing toddler into her arms, Alexei had told the man off lightly. The man had scoffed, waving him off telling him about needing to beat the useless ones into shape.

When the ‘family’ left to drive to their ‘home’ in Ohio, Yelena had gone silent. She remained quiet, even four months in. If any of them spoke to her she’d grunt at them, and point if she wanted something. Alexei had been practically chasing her around, yapping her ear off in an attempt to get her to speak more. Which meant Yelena practically clung to Melina’s side, as the widow would make Alexei leave her alone. When Yelena wasn’t clinging onto Melina she’d follow Natasha around. Natasha found it to be irritating, as for the first time in her life she was given freedom, and privacy. Only to have it be consistently interrupted by a small insistent shadow. 

The woods beside their safehouse acted as a safe haven for Natasha. A bit into the trees, an old red oak was tucked away off the path a little ways. Natasha had been frequenting the tree since they had arrived, more so now as the operatives she was assigned with were proving their incompetence. 

Currently, she has been sitting about halfway up the tree for the past hour now. Mindlessly plucking at the bark along the side of the branch she rested on, stripping another section of it clean. The aching pain on her fingertips was of comfort. The beading droplets of blood escaping from the cuts, served to remind her of home. The loud scraping of a shoe against bark, trying to slow someone's descent broke her out of her trance. Just as a thud could be heard of the person hitting the ground, Natasha peered over towards the ground. 

At the tree's base Yelena sat on the ground, peering back up towards Natasha. Her hands were curled into fists, tucked under her armpits. The two stared at one another. Natasha could see the slightest wobble in her chin, her nose twitching as she tried to hold back her tears. Natasha sighed as she leaned back against the tree, staring up towards the canopy. 

She could hear an even louder sniffle, and a very faint whimper. Natasha was dead set on ignoring her, when Yelena is put into the Red Room none of that will be tolerated. It was better for her to learn now, than have one of the Madames teach her. If she even makes it. The thought makes Natasha shift uncomfortably. 

Just as she was about to close her eyes, and distance herself from everything. The faintest voice could be heard from below. “...Natasha…?” 

Before she could stop herself, Natasha reacted. She swung down from her perch, repelling down the tree in record time. She landed with a thump near Yelena. She sprinted the short distance towards her, kneeling by her side. Natasha gently reached out, cradling her face in her hands. She turned Yelena’s head to face her, sucking in a harsh breath. A long jagged cut spanned from the tip of her left lip, running across her cheek, before finishing behind the lobe of her ear. 

Natasha gently titled Yelena’s face upwards, her thumb softly tracing the cut. The girl stayed silent through it all. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, her chin wobbling more in her fight not to cry. Natasha glanced down towards Yelena’s chest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, her balled up fists shaking. Natasha removed her hands from Yelena’s face, grabbing her wrists. She manovured them so Yelena’s hands were facing palm side up. She dug her fingers on a pressure point on her wrists, until she opened them fully. 

Natasha’s face scrunched up at the state of her hands. Deep splinters were embedded into her skin, the skin on her fingertips having been peeled off. Leaving the tips faintly bloody, and raw. Better than the Red Rooms method. When Yelena let out an audible sob, Natasha flinched. Her head whipped around to scan the area surrounding them, searching for any signs of the adults. Yelena sobbed again, Natasha quickly clasped her left hand over her mouth.

“Shhh…” Natasha tries to quiet her. “If you're going to cry, do it quietly.” Yelena began to sob against Natasha’s hand even more. Natasha’s anxiety began to overflow, she kept looking over her shoulder, and checking the tree line behind Yelena. 

Without thinking she reached into her shoe, pulling out a small clump of cloth. When she shook the cloth, a makeshift shank fell to the ground. She gripped the handle, the razor attached to the end was new, and sharp. Yelena had shoved her hands back into her armpits, thinking quickly Natasha reached up-towards her forehead. Quickly, and desperately she pressed the blade against the younger girl’s hairline. With a quick swipe to the right, Yelena screamed. 

Natasha reacted immediately. Keeping her hand clamped over her mouth, she wrapped her free arm around the back of Yelena's neck. Using her strength she swung around so she was straddling Yelena, keeping the younger girls face pressed against her chest. Yelena struggled against her, trying her best to push Natasha off. Trying to scream for her mother to come, and help her. 

“Shhh, shhh, shhh, focus on the pain.” It killed Natasha to do this, but it was the only way. Melina, and Alexei might be playing nice right now, but that will soon change. Yelena had shown too many weaknesses already, Natasha needed to help make the target on her back smaller. It might hurt now, but she will at least be spared further down the line. When mistakes are no longer fixed by punishments, they are fixed by removal.

“You need to focus on the pain, Yelena. Push everything down, just focus on the cut.” Natasha positioned her head, so her chin was placed against the cut she made. 

“Breath, and focus.” Natasha coached her, as she dug her chin into the cut. Yelena cried even harder. 

“Focus!” Natasha snapped, tightening the hold she had on Yelena. Yelena fought against the sobs on the verge of breaking through. She sniffled, and whimpered quietly, but she did not cry out again. Natasha held their positions waiting for Yelena’s tears to stop. It took longer than she wanted, but Yelena had eventually gone silent. Tears no longer continued to soak into Natasha’s chest, while the sniffling had died out. 

Natasha removed herself from Yelena, the younger girl curling in on herself. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees hugging herself, while burying her head from her sister. Natasha sat back on her knees, watching Yelena quietly. When she inadvertently sobbed again Natasha reached out, striking her on the exposed portion of her head. 

“Focus! Do not cry! ”Yelena bit her tongue, squeezing her eyes shut. She coughed, and choked on the sobs wanting to spill out. Natasha sat quietly, watching her every move. Preparing for the next time, in order to make sure the lesson sticks quicker. 

The two fell into a silent lapse, the sky was beginning to turn a slight haze of orange, before Natasha began to stand. She knew they had to start heading back to the house, before the adults came looking for them.

“Get up Yelena, supper will be ready soon.” She coaxed. Yelena did not move. Slightly irritated, Natasha took a step towards her. Yelena’s head shot up, her body following. She stumbled backwards, trying to balance herself. Natasha’s hands shot out, grabbing the undersides of Yelena’s arms. She squirmed, and whined as tears began to fall down her cheeks. 

Natasha’s frustration hit a new high. Yelena was doing herself no favors acting like this, and Natasha did not know how much time she had to rid her of this behaviour. 

“Natasha! Yelena! Supper is ready!” Not long enough.

Natasha sighed, looking down at Yelena. She had quit trying to escape, but was still a blubbering mess. Natasha knelt down to look Yelena in the face, the younger girl avoided her eyes. Good.

“Yelena? Hey, can you look at me?” She looked on the verge of another breakdown, when Natasha spoke.

“I know it hurts okay? It… doesn't get better. But it won’t hurt as much the more you do it, and if you don’t cry no one will hit you for it. Then you won’t have to do it as much.” Yelena just stared at her feet. 

“You did good for your first try, we’ll keep practising. It didn’t take long for me to learn, it will be the same for you.” 

“Natasha! Yelena!” 

Natasha sighed again, “Come on.” 

Later that evening when everyone had gone to bed, Natasha was awoken to her bedroom door slowly sliding open. Yelena had peered inside, the two once again locking eyes. Neither saying anything. Yelena licked her lips, her eyes darting from Natasha to anywhere else.

“... stay?” She asked in the faintest of voice. 

Natasha ripped the covers next to her down, patting the exposed side of the bed. Yelena came running in, her pink pony clutched against her chest.

“Shh!” Natasha shushed her, putting her finger to her lips. Yelena froze, looking back behind her. Natasha slinked out of bed, her footsteps feather light. She closed the bedroom door slowly. Being as quiet as possible she turned, and lifted Yelena up. She wrapped her arms around Natasha’s neck, resting her head on her sister's shoulder. 

Walking back to the bed, she gently laid Yelena down on the side furthest from the door. Grabbing the blankets, she pulled them over Yelena. Tucking the blankets in slightly, Natasha made her way over to the other side. Slipping underneath the covers, she laid on her side to face Yelena. Yelena was looking down at her pony, both arms wrapped around it securely. Her mouth opened wide as a yawn escaped, she flinched slightly. The cut on her face had pulled from the movement. Frowning, she pressed her knuckle into her forehead. 

Yelena looked towards Natasha, searching for approval. Natasha could see tears welling in her eyes, her face tight, and her chin wobbling slightly. Internally Natasha wanted to do nothing more than to scold her, make another cut on her forehead, and repeat her lesson from earlier. Instead she remained impassive, reaching a hand out to rub her thumb under Yelena’s eye.

“Go to sleep, Yelena.” Yelena nodded, closing her eyes. Natasha could tell she was too uncomfortable to actually fall asleep, Natasha was too. Turning over so she could face the door, she became lost in thought. Melina had not believed the lie Natasha had told her, in regards to what happened to Yelena’s face. She was prepared to continue to lie to Melina, when Yelena unexpectedly interrupted. Saying Natasha’s name. 

Alexei had cheered hearing Yelena speak, Melina had been shocked. While Natasha was silently thankful, and terrified. Alexei had spent the remainder of the night trying to get her to say more, for the most part she only repeated Natasha’s name, when she did decide to speak.  Melina was quiet, Melina was always quiet but this was different. Natasha had kept her eyes on Melina throughout the evening, never letting the older widow get behind her. 

When it was Yelena’s bedtime Melina had taken her up, and did not return for nearly two hours. By the time Melina had come to find Natasha, she was already in her room. When Melina knocked on her door, letting herself in. Natasha was already kneeled in the middle of the room, her head bowed awaiting her punishment. 

Melina did not say a word as she approached Natasha, her heart pounded in her ears as the widow got closer. When Melina knelt in front of Natasha, she reached her left hand up to rest on the back of Natasha’s neck. She squeezed her neck in a gentle, yet firm hold. 

“You lied to me…” Natasha tried to force herself to relax. 

“I am not happy with you. We are undercover, sisters do not hurt one another. You bring unnecessary attention on us.” Just hit me, she thought. Natasha kept her eyes down, as she raised her head. She placed a gentle kiss underneath Melina’s jaw, before bowing her head again. 

“Hmm.” Melina gently massaged Natasha’s neck, kissing the top of her head. 

“Do not correct Yelena again. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good, go to bed. We will discuss this further tomorrow.” 

Natasha needed to rethink her lesson plan. If Yelena was going to start talking, she needed a way to communicate with her. Using a method that neither adult would be able to decipher. Yelena needed to learn how to lie better as well. She was going to have Melina breathing down her neck, analyzing her every move, Yelena’s as well. 

Natasha sighed internally, there was so much work to be done, and not enough time to do it all. She’d have to find a way to continue her lessons without raising suspicion, the lessons won’t be as effective but it will have to do. If Melina won’t help her, then she will. It won’t be enough, but she could at least say she tried. She could only hope the Red Room will make her removal painless. 

She hopes.

Natasha jolted with a gasp when she came back to the present. Her head jerking to the left, she could hear the dimmed sound of voices. Her blurry vision, and the blood swimming in her ears leaving her blind, and vulnerable. Blinking rapidly, the three male figures began to blur back into view. Clint, Steve, and Tony were huddled at the end of the hall talking quietly. Natasha was still too disoriented to hear what they were saying, but based on Steve’s rigid posture, Tony’s tense jaw, and hard eyes. It was nothing good. She let out a shaky breath, sucking in a deep breath through her nose she repeated this action. Again, and again, and again. Finally when the buzzing in her head cleared, and the pulsating in her ears calmed. Natasha glanced back towards the boys. 

“-involved.” Steve said firmly. 

“No.” Tony immediately disagreed. 

“This is not an argument.” Steve turned to face Tony, the stress very evident in his eyes.

“Debate, one that I will inevitably win. And may I just add, I think you’re-.” 

“Enough-” 

“Ahh! No you enough.” Tony pointed at Clint, getting into Steve’s face. “We know nothing about that woman in that room. More importantly, we know nothing about our little ninja herself.” Tony stared Steve down, his eyes stern.

“We know nothing about her.” He reiterated. “All the documents S.H.I.E.L.D has on her are forged. Her birth certificate, her name, the place she grew up… There isn't a single thing about her that is real. It's all pretend.” Tony stopped looking back between Steve, and Clint asking for one of them to tell him that he was wrong.

“Nat’s past is hers to share.” Clint said tersely, his ire very evident.

“I am not saying I disagree.” Tony turned his attention to Clint. Raising his hands. 

“You just said you did.” Steve pointed out.

“Contex- You know? I feel you two aren't listening to a word, I'm saying.” 

A door clicking shut behind them, caused all three of them to turn towards the sound. The hallway where Natasha had been, was now empty. With the door holding their captive having been relocked. From the inside. 

Neither woman said a word, when Natasha entered the room. Natasha stopped in the center of the room, her arms crossed over her chest. 6ft away sitting on the floor, with her back, and cuffed hands pressed against the wall was the woman. The woman kept herself neutral, and unreadable. Everything besides her eyes. Every 30 or so seconds her eyes would twitch. Not towards the door, or towards the gun on Natasha’s hip. She was looking towards her ankle. Natasha followed her eyes. If she was injured, Natasha would be doing her a mercy by putting a bullet in her head.

“ Widow, name, and status .” The woman jerked at the command. She immediately opened her mouth to comply then stopped herself. Her eyes were darting, from Natasha to her ankle in shorter intervals. She kept opening, and closing her mouth fighting an internal battle.  Natasha approached the woman, towering over her, the woman meeting her gaze. Returning her studious look with one of venom, and loathing. The blood that had come from her broken nose had dried. It covered her lips, and had slipped down the front of her throat. 

Natasha sighed as she braces her hands on the wall, driving her knee into the woman's face. Once, then twice, then again, and again. Natasha reached down wrapping her right hand around the woman’s throat, hauling her to her feet. The woman bared her teeth, spitting droplets of blood across Natasha’s face. She slammed the woman’s head back against the wall, the woman grunting from the blow. Coughing up blood that threatened to choke her. 

“Looks like the Red Rooms gotten sloppy.” Natasha smiled. The woman's face turned from venom to fury, her eyes alight with a desire to kill. Effortlessly Natasha tightened her grip around the woman's throat, using her left hand she clutched the woman's upper arm. In one swift movement Natasha pivoted on her heels, lifting the woman, throwing her across the room. She flew, colliding with the solid wall of the compound, before landing with a hard thump on her side. 

Natasha was already on the move. “No one, living up to the Black Widow title anymore?” She pulled her gun from its holster, flicking the safety off. One in the leg, two in the chest, one in the head . The old ingrained mantra invited itself back into her head. The woman looked up in a daze, her eyes widening with fright at the sight of Natasha.

The woman coughed, and sputtered. “Sketa!” Natasha raised her gun.

“Deserter!” Natasha froze. There we go . 

“Liar.” She placed her finger on the trigger. 

“Oksana sent me!” Sketa added quickly, her eyes pleading with Natasha. The name was familiar to her, an angry face bubbling back up to the surface of her mind.

“She was the one who freed me from subjugation.” She licked the blood dripping from her lips. “I was sent to retrieve you.” 

“She sent you to retrieve me.” Sketa clenched her teeth to keep herself from screaming at Natasha. 

“Yes.” Sketa exhaled heavily. 

“A Hydra-”

“She is not Hydra!”

“Then who is she?” Sketa closed her eyes.

“Widows are not given the luxury of sovereignty. We were created to serve, and obey. If our bond is cut, we find a new one.” 

“Like you?” Now Sketa looked at Natasha, her eyes emotionless as she turned the assertion back on Natasha. Natasha smiled internally, Red Room or not the woman's emotions were getting the best of her. Perhaps Hydra was trying to replicate an organization that should've been left dead. 

“The organization I serve has the public's favour… Yours doesn't.” Natasha stalked toward Sketa, lowering her gun.

“Hydra won’t come for you, you're replaceable. You always were.” Sketa hoisted herself upright, spitting blood at her feet. A bloody smile crossed her face. 

“Is that why you didn’t come back for Yelena?” Click, pop, thump.

The door beside her swung open, the lock having been kicked in. The bolt sent skittering across the floor, as Clint came into the room. 

“Shit, Natasha…” Natasha stood stock still with her gun raised, smoke dissipating from the end of the barrel. Sketa laid on the ground, a bullet hole in her forehead. Clint crossed the short distance to Natasha. Grabbing the top of her gun he twisted the weapon, disarming her before field stripping the gun. Natasha did not try to fight him. She didn’t fight him when he stood directly in front of her, his hands cupping her face trying to get her attention. 

“Is everyone- Oh, okay!” Happy had come into the room, immediately turning back around right out the door. Covering his eyes once he saw the body. A chorus of other voices could be heard in the hall, Steve stood as an immovable barrier between the horde of people attempting to get into the room. Tony had slipped in behind Clint, and Steve before the chaos had ensued, watching everything unfold off to the side. He watched Natasha, as Clint spoke to her. She looked a thousand miles away from reality, and it scared him. Natasha was always a hard-ass, with anger issues that could rival Banners. But she always controlled it. For Natasha to take such drastic action at the mention of some woman's name… 

Tony turned his attention to the dead woman. Blood that covered the woman's face, pooled around the area where her head rested. Her eyes were empty, any light that once shown in them, was gone. Tony got closer to her, crouching down next to her body. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Tony rubbed at his face, lost in thought. He went to stand when something caught his eye. There was a thick strap wrapped around a good portion of the woman's ankle, nothing that would catch anyone's attention by itself. A black strap, on a black uniform. A corner of a white object sticking out of the top of it.

Tony reached out, taking the corner of the object sticking out in his fingers, pulling it out. A long thin strip of photo paper came out of its hiding spot. He twisted the strip around to look at the other side. Four separate photos of two little girls sitting in a photobooth. Both laughing with a carefree look in their eyes, an older red haired girl, and a much younger blond child. 

“Sir?” F.R.I.D.A.Y had asked. 

“Hmm?” 

“Happy has given me the order to alert S.H.I.E.L.D to the current situation, would you like to proceed?” 

Tony thought for a moment about his conversation with Steve, and Clint. They both opposed his plan, understandably wanting to spare Natasha any further discomfort. But her little stunt had just changed the game, and besides… When did he ever do what anyone else said? 

Chapter Text

It was nearly one-o-clock in the morning, but the streets of Vienna were alive with people, and music. Cheers, and the explosive sound of dazzling fireworks bled through the walls of every building. Every building in the city virtually empty, nearly every resident out on the streets celebrating. Inside one apartment building tucked a few streets off the city center, all but one person was not joining in on the festivities. 

This person kept every window, and door locked. The curtains were drawn, the lights inside their home all left on. The resident paced her whole apartment. Shuffling papers around that contained names, and blurry faces. Scrolling through her phone, selecting a contact before giving up, and repeating her pacing. She tinkered with the alarms, and trip wires she placed around various entry points of the apartment. Worrying herself into a frenzy. 

“Where are you Sketa?” Oksana whispered to herself. 

Oksana had given up. Sitting in the living room, hunched over on the couch, her head in her hands. She was waiting on to hear anything from Sketa, her hope dwindling every minute she didn’t respond. Sketa did not show up to the agreed upon rendezvous point, and she hadn’t activated her tracker like she was supposed to. Leaving Oksana with no way to find her. 

Oksana didn’t want to send her out on a mission this early, she’d only been free for four months. But she wasn’t left with much choice, Sketa was more valuable than anyone widow she had freed thus far. The only widow with the leverage they needed, to get Natasha Romanoff to join the fight.

When Oksana, had heard through her connection that there was a widow on a solo mission in the Philippines. She had ignored them, she had been working on pinpointing another widow, who would have been of some use.  But they had been insistent, sending the widows coordinates every few hours. Messaging her during the lulls, asking if she had left yet, asking if she was injured, or sick. A few days later they threatened to enact Project Nemesis, if she did not free the widow. 

Oksana had sworn, and dragged her feet all the way from Austria to the Philippines. She found Sketa, sniffing around one of her deserted safe houses alone. When Sketa spotted her she was surprised, she had been sent on a simple reconnaissance mission. She was not prepared, or expecting to run into her. That element of surprise worked in Oksana’s favour, giving her a chance to expose Sketa to the antidote.

Oksana was forever grateful, she herself had not been subjected to mind control. Watching any widow no matter if their reaction was for better or for worse, it always horrifying. Sketa had stumbled, and flung herself into a corner. Wiping at her eyes, as blood gushed from her nose. She groaned, and shook her head. The fogginess, and confusion setting in instantaneously.

Oksana had tried to figure out what made some widow's reactions worse than others. There didn’t seem any factor that would influence one's reaction, she’d monitor their age, size, metabolism, blood type, race, anything. It was all irrelevant. She begun keeping a wide array of medications early on, to help the widows with the mirage of symptoms they experienced. It was one of the only things she could do. 

She’d stay with the widows for only 4-6 weeks at most, she’d help get them settled somewhere with her contractor after their time was up. She couldn’t stay with them long, with every widow she freed, the Red Room got more, and more desperate. It wouldn’t even be an hour at most sometimes, before there would be 4 other widow’s coming after her. Oksana had begun expecting them, so she started moving quicker. She did not want to move a recently freed widow so soon, needing to give them time to acclimate back into their own minds. A widow so confused, and disoriented is a liability. But it was either move them, or be taken back to the Red Room. Or killed. 

Sketa had thrown herself into the furthest corner of the closet, flinching, and begging Oksana to kill her for her failure. Oksana was anxious, she kept looking over her shoulder, peeking outside the window, waiting for reinforcements to arrive. Oksana had left widow’s behind before, Sketa was not going to be an exception. As she was preparing to leave Sketa her phone buzzed, a message from her connection. It was very short, and very clear. 

“Do NOT leave her.” 

So she didn’t. She did have to drag her out of the closet kicking, and screaming. But she did not leave her. Dragging her out into the streets with all the people, vehicles, the smells, and the probability of an unknown amount of widows already on top of them. Threw her over the edge. Oksana had expected this, wrapping her arm around her throat. Digging her fingers into a pressure point at the base of her skull, Sketa instantly passed out. Allowing Oksana throwing her over her shoulder. 

The pair made their way back to Austria over the following two weeks, Sketa practically hanging off Oksana when they arrived in Vienna. Oksana had questioned Sketa a little on the trip back, mostly about simple things. Her name, age, her handler’s name, anything she remembers before being freed. She couldn’t answer most of the questions initially, either the question was too confusing or she couldn’t remember. 

Over that two week period her memory began to recover. The medications helped the fogginess cloudying her brain dissipate. The questions she couldn’t answer days prior, caused her no problems. Oksana still wasn’t sure as to why her contact insisted on saving this widow, until Sketa answered it for her.

“I don’t see him much, no one really does. Anytime one of us does he always has Yelena following him around like a dog.” 

Oksana snapped to attention at Yelena’s name, she interrogated Sketa for the entire night. Sketa grew more, and more weary, and tired by the hour but Oksana pushed her on. Picking apart Sketa’s words, pushing her to remember every minute detail she could. She finally stopped once she noticed Sketa nearly in tears, eyeing a knife on the dresser in the motel they were at. 

Oksana surged forward with this information. When the pair arrived back at her safe house in Vienna, she spent her days, and nights reinventing Project Nemesis. Sketa jumped in to help, giving her opinions, correcting any outdated information. Oksana began preparing Sketa, the mission she was to be sent on would be very different from ones the Red Room would’ve sent her on. Her impulsive behaviour, was a common side effect of being freed from the mind control. But it would, and was making things difficult. She wasn’t thinking before she acts, leading to more than one of their mock fights ending in bloodshed. 

They didn’t have enough time to correct this, before a whistleblower reached out. Informing her of The Avenger’s departure to Sokovia, Natasha being with them. Oksana shipped Sketa off less than an hour later, shoving a photo strip into her hands, telling her to give it to Natasha before all else. Hoping she would remember.  

Now she finds herself waiting. Sketa had gone radio silent, and The Avengers had been seen leaving Sokovia. Oksana was not able to get a hold of the whistleblower either. She was stuck, and completely fucked if Sketa was dead. Still she couldn’t leave, if Sketa was still alive, and had just been taken then she had to wait. Oksana pulled at her hair, nearly screaming in frustration. This was all moving too quickly, everything just falling to shit along the way. Any hope she once had, completely vanished. 

She reached for her phone on the coffee table in-front of her, pausing halfway to it. The hairs on her arms, and the back of her neck raised. A chill racked her body, as she felt a pair of eyes on her. The apartment was silent besides the cheers, and musical activities outside. Oksana focused her hearing on the room she was in, her ears ringing as she focused. 

The room was silent as it should be, none of the alarms had been tripped… 

Oksana snatched the gun hiding her waistband, whirling as she stood to point it behind her. Directly behind her was the kitchen. A massive island placed in the center, preventing her from getting a full view of the kitchen. Giving someone a place to hide. The door leading out of the apartment was to her left, she snuck a peak towards it as she crept towards the kitchen. The door was still locked, with all the security measures she had in place left undisturbed.

She continued forward, keeping her back towards the exit in order to keep an eye on the rest of the room. As she reached the kitchen, Oksana pressed herself closer to the counter opposite to the island. She rushed the last few steps, jumping forward when she rounded the island. Her gun pointed into an empty kitchen.

Oksana kept her guard up, as she moved forward. There was a hallway beside the kitchen that led to the remainder of the apartment. Three rooms, and two closets. Too many places to hide. She glided across the kitchen, keeping close to the counter of her left. As she neared the hallway’s entrance, she pressed herself firmly against the counter top. Oksana took a steadying breath, readying herself to enter. A floorboard quietly creaking from behind her. 

She threw herself to the floor as a gunshot ripped through the apartment, the bullet meant for her head embedding itself into the wall. She twisted, and was met with a gun hovering above her head. Pointed directly at her. Oksana dropped her weapon, snatching her attacker's weapon. She pushed the weapon away from her face, the gun going off beside her ear. The bullet slicing against her left shoulder. She shoved the pain away, flying to her feet she freed a hand to grab the collar of the widow's suit. Pulling herself up, and the widow down, she slammed her head into the widow's face. 

The widow took the blow silently, her head flung backwards. Blood poured from her broken nose snaking down her lips, and chin. Oksana kept her grip on the widow's hands that held the gun, she could feel the widow tightening her grip. The widow was about to retaliate, when she leaned down towards the woman’s left hand. Sinking her teeth as deep as she could into their exposed fingers. 

They refused to let go of the gun, Oksana could feel them try, and jerk their hands away. She let them, biting down even harder as she swung her head away from them. Tearing the exposed flesh off their fingers. Sucking on the metallic taste of their blood, and chewy flesh as it filled her mouth. She spat it back out into the widow's face. 

Oksana maneuvered herself into a position where she could throw the widow over her shoulder, and onto the floor. With the widow staggering on her feet behind her, Oksana broke the grip the woman's mangled hand had on the weapon. Adjusting herself to grasp the woman's right hand, her other hand fisting the front part of her suit allowing Oksana to throw her over her shoulder. 

The widow hit the ground with a slam, her back taking the brunt of the fall. Oksana kept her grip on the woman's wrist, as she placed her boot on the woman's shoulder. She twisted her arm, before breaking the woman's wrist. Ripping the gun from her limp hand, she turned the weapon on its owner ready to put a bullet in the widow's head. 

She froze, the widow laid on the ground heaving. Silent as her green eyes roboticy stared straight at Oksana, her blond hair that had been up in a tight braid had come slightly undone. Wisps of blond lay against her bruised, bloody, pale, and sunken in face. It was Yelena’s face, watching as she became distracted, noticing her second of hesitation… 

Yelena quickly pulled her teeth-marred arm up, her widow’s bite glowing red as she fired a bolt of electricity. Oksana caught on a second to late, the bolt connecting with her collarbone. She hollered as she fell to her knees. Clawing at the bolt, as electricity coursed through her body. Yelena quickly, but sloppily turned onto her belly. Bracing on her hands, and knees she surged forward. Wrapping her arms around Oksana, tackling them both to the floor. 

Yelena was straddling her in seconds. Oksana tugged harder at the bolt, as she saw Yelena pull a knife from her thigh. Yelena twisted the blade so she could easily slit Oksana’s throat. Yelena moved just as Oksana wrenched the bolt out, throwing her hands out to catch the blade. It dug into her palm, working itself deeper, and deeper into her flesh as the two fought for the knife. 

Oksana was losing her grip on the knife. Her hand was searing, the blood making her already poor grip slippery. She moaned as Yelena was starting to put more of her weight into it, practically hunched over the blade trying to dig it past Oksana’s hand into her throat. Oksana nearly supporting all of Yelena’s weight. 

She listened to Yelena’s harsh breaths, her blood misting Oksana’s face with each exhale. Her body was shaking from exertion. The only noise she made were the unintelligible growls that slipped past her bared teeth, as she pressed down harder. With Yelena unbalanced, Oksana surged upward to her knees. Yelena falling backwards onto her ass. Oksana wrenched the knife from her grasp, tossing the weapon aside. She snatched her hand out catching Yelena by her collar, she yanked Yelena toward her. Slamming their heads together again. 

Yelena turned into dead weight. Her arms falling slack to her sides, her head bobbing as she fought to remain conscious. Oksana grabbed the front of her suit, yanking her to her feet. Yelena fought for her footing as Oksana dragged her down the hallway. Yelena was barely conscious, but was still attempting to kill her. Less than half-hearted attempts to grab another weapon, a short-lived attempt to scratch her face before grabbing at her arms after she stumbled.

The pair made it to the end of the hall, Oksana dragging Yelena into the last room. The bedroom was sparse, Oksana making a beeline for the bed that was shoved against the wall, directly to the right of the door. She dropped Yelena onto it. Turning to fling open the bedside tables drawer, pulling out a small black case. She unhooked the locks on the case, flipping the lid open.

Inside were 11 glowing, red vials. She plucked one from the case, turning back to Yelena. Yelena was unmoving laying on her stomach, her eyes flickering as she hazily kept track of Oksana’s movements. Oksana adjusted the vial, placing a hand onto Yelena’s head as she released the dust into her face. Yelena squeezed her eyes shut, turning to bury her face into the bed. Oksana grabbed her loose braid to keep her from hiding. Watching as Yelena’s eyes glowed red, the luminous dust dissolving into her skin. 

Yelena went still, her eyes staring straight ahead as the dust cleared. They were slightly unfocused, but a bit of life had returned to them. Oksana started to speak to her, when Yelena groaned. Slammed her eyes shut, as her body trying to unsuccessfully curl in on itself. She groaned again, bringing her left hand up to pull at her hair. 

“It’s-” 

“AHHH!!!” Yelena screamed, over, and over again. She wailed, and thrashed, digging her nails into skull, clawing at her face. Blood slipped down the side of her face, from her ears. She buried her face into the bed, when Oksana let her go. She stepped back watching Yelena’s reaction to the antidote, at a complete loss as to what to do. Yelena’s reaction was something she had yet to encounter. Oksana whipped around to stare at the curtained window, the celebration outside was still in full swing. But Yelena’s screaming could still be heard from downstairs, regardless of the noise outside.

“Yelena-” Oksana stopped herself, she looked back at Yelena before heading towards the door.

She peered down the hallway. Seeing no one else, she shut, and locked the door before returning to Yelena’s side. She went to rid Yelena of her weapons, but stopped when she let out a very panicked scream. Her body was finally able to jerk in on itself, curling into a tight ball. Her right arm was stretched out, twitching, and seizing uselessly. 

“It's okay, it's okay. You're okay.” 

Oksana tried to soothe her, her voice a little desperate as she gently touched Yelena. She screamed even harder. Oksana jerked back before immediately returning to her task, of stripping her down. She deposited the weapons she had access to onto the floor, before hooking an arm underneath her knees. Flipping Yelena onto her back. 

When she flipped Yelena, Oksana turned white, her heart plummeting. Blood had soaked her whole face. Any bruise that had blackened her face, having been painted over by a thick coat of red. It came gushing from her nose, leaking from the corner of her eyes, turning the whites of them dark red. Yelena wailed the whole time. Scratching frantically at her hair, tearing at the collar of her uniform. 

A thick black, purplish ring wrapped around her neck, every pull at her collar exposing more of the damaged skin. Oksana had difficulty spotting the tell-tale signs of fingerprints, due to Yelena’s frantic actions. But they were there. Oksana mentally shook herself, returning to her task. Quickly disposing any remaining weapons to the floor, ignoring Yelena’s feeble attempts to push her off. She kept one of Yelena’s knives, a small non-serrated blade, and placed it on the bedside table.

She ran to the closet across the room, retrieving a lightweight, leather jacket. Before rushing back to Yelena’s side, she wrestled both her legs down onto the bed. Keeping them still with one arm, while the other shoved the jacket under her feet, around her ankles. She wrapped the jacket around her ankles, tightening the jacket to make a makeshift restraint. Yelena was barely aware of Oksana’s actions, only reacting to whatever was restricting her. 

Once she finished securing her feet, she went to the bedside table, scooping up the knife. Crawling onto the bed, climbing over top of Yelena to straddle her, facing her legs. Yelena squirmed, and scratched at Oksana’s back. Gripping, and tugging at her clothes. She held down Yelena’s right leg, just above her knee. She scanned her thigh for the approximate location of her tracker. Pressing the knife into her suit, as she made her final gauge of its location. Oksana held her breath as she raised the knife, plunging it into Yelena’s thigh. 

Yelena’s back arched off the bed as she let out a bloodcurdling scream. Oksana instinctually distancing herself from her surroundings, ignoring Yelena’s actions. Focusing on the task at hand. She dragged the knife further up, until there was a decent sized slit in her thigh. She removed the knife, replacing it with her fingers. Digging around inside Yelena’s jerking muscle, her fingers grazed against a metallic object.

Pinching her fingers around the object, she gently removed her tracker. Tossing it aside onto the floor, Oksana sat back a bit. Putting her hands on her thighs, taking a moment to catch her breath. She took a deep shuddering breath as she made her game plan. Considering Yelena’s intense reaction to the antidote, Oksana would be sedating her. Her screaming would garner everyone's attention, acting as a beacon to the incoming widows. She needed to get them both very far away, very quickly. 

With Yelena still thrashing, and screaming. She swung herself off of Yelena, and the bed. Rushing towards the door, pressing herself against the wall. Unlocking the door, she cracked it open to peer outside. Not seeing or hearing anything, she opened the door just a bit more. Sticking her head out, to scan the remainder of the hallway. 

Seeing that it was empty, she dashed towards the washroom. She searched the washroom, before crouching down to open the cabinet underneath the sink. Towards the back, there was a small makeup bag. She pulled it out, unzipping the bag to reveal its contents. Medications, both in pill, and liquid form, syringes, peroxide, alcohol wipes… 

Oksana picked a syringe, and a vial half filled with a clear liquid. She closed the bag, not bothering to zip it shut before shoving it back into the corner of the cabinet. She checked the hallway again, before running back to the bedroom. Heading directly to Yelena, she unscrewed the cap to the vial. Ripping open the packaging sealing the syringe open. She turned the bottle upside down, sticking the needle into the fluid. Pulling out a small amount of the liquid, she flicked the needle a few times before pushing slightly down on the plunger. Removing any air, before leaning over Yelena. 

Yelena had quieted down. Her breathing was ragged, and wheezy. Her heart pounding in her chest, hard enough to drown out any external noise from her ears. Yelena’s head was arched backwards, her throat was on full display. As she had unzipped the front of her suit a small bit, her left hand twitched as she tugged at her collar. Oksana could not control the shiver that racked her body. She tentatively reached out her right hand, hovering just above Yelena’s mouth. Slowly, and gently as she could, she placed her hand over Yelena’s mouth. Her fingers gripping her cheeks just hard enough, to keep Yelena from shaking her head free. 

Yelena let out a sob against her palm, trying to twist her head free, as Oksana pressed her head back into the bed. She lowered the needle pushing it into Yelena’s neck. Yelena cried, and squirmed as Oksana pressed down on the plunger. The clear fluid rushing through her blood, travelling to her brain. Yelena’s breathing immediately started to slow, her rapid heartbeat dropping down into a sedated rhythm. All the fight leaving her body, as her eyes slid closed. 

Oksana removed her hand, placing it against Yelena’s neck. Her pulse was weaker than it should be, but she did not have time to worry about it right now. In minutes she had armed herself with Yelena’s discarded weapons, and had grabbed a big enough jacket, and pants to dress over Yelena’s suit. She was just about ready to make their escape, shoving the remaining antidotes into a backpack, along with a few other items. When a loud muffled explosion was heard from outside the door. Her rapidly beeping watch warns her of the missing front door, and the three widows now in the apartment.  

Oksana takes a breath to calm her nerves, listening to the festivities outside, the near silent breaths coming from Yelena. She shoves the backpack under the bed, creeping towards the door. The odds were not in Oksana’s favour. She was outnumbered, her weapons were subpar compared to the widows, and there were more of them coming. The only advantage she had was a single element of surprise, a surprise waiting for them at the end of the hallway. Peeking from underneath a painting she had hanging off the wall, a very small, circular sensor. It was too small for most to notice, the widows would notice it though. Just not quickly enough. 

Oksana waited at the threshold, her gun clasped in a firm grip. Waiting for them to get closer. Soon enough she could hear their featherlight footsteps approaching. Just a little closer… 

“AHH!” That was her cue. 

Oksana whirled into the hall, opening fire at the three widows. Two of them went down without resistance, both clutching at their faces, fighting to stand upright. The third had been spared by the device. Immediately firing her own assault weapon towards Oksana, forcing her to retreat back into the bedroom. Narrowly avoiding the rain of bullets decimating the wall. She waited just at the lip of the doorframe. Turning her head to avoid getting splinters, and drywall dust in her eyes.

The widow ceased fire, “Send reinforcements-” Shit. 

She threw her arm around the corner, firing off a few rounds. She reeled back when the widow re-opened fire. Oksana crouched down watching, and listening as the bullets tearing through the wall got closer. The hail of bullets stopped, the widow appearing in the doorway. Her gun leading, as she swept to the right of the room. The widow notices Oksana just a moment too late. 

She put a bullet into the widow's kneecap, the woman screaming as her legs buckled, sending her plummeting towards the ground. Oksana shoved herself between the woman's arms, as her knees hit the floor. The two locked eyes, the widows eyes were hardened. A twinge of fear barely noticeable beneath the surface. It took a nano second, for the hardened look to be completely overtaken by her contained fear. When Oksana put the pistol under her chin. She tried to speak, to plead maybe. Oksana will spend the rest of her life wondering, as she pulled the trigger. 

The woman's eyes bulged, as the top of her skull exploded upward. Chunks of her skull, and brain splattering on the ceiling. Blood raining down to mist her face, the widow’s body slumping forward to rest against Oksana’s shoulder. She avoided looking at her. The gaping hole that tore from under her chin to the top of her head, goading her to look.

She gently nudged the woman off of her. The thud of her lifeless body hitting the floor, forever ingrained in Oksana’s memory. She absently reached up to touch her shoulder, feeling the litres of blood that soaked into her clothing. Trying to ignore its warmth, as it stained her skin for weeks to come. A reminder she could have lived without.

Oksana reached out to the woman. Without looking, she felt along the back of her neck up to ear. She found the woman’s earpiece taking it for herself, sticking the device in her own ear. Immediately she could hear another widow in her ear, demanding an update from Irina.

Irina… Oksana had no doubt, she passed along her brutality to the younger widows she taught. The ferocity, and relentlessness Oksana faced from Yelena was proof of it. She wondered if Irina ever showed her any kindness, Yelena’s blackened throat popped back into her mind… Probably not.

Oksana rose to her feet, checking her watch for any other alert she might have missed. The festivities outside were dying down, the music, and cheers barely audible anymore. She hoped the gunshots had not been heard, if they were she’d find out soon enough. There was no time to ponder, when reinforcements were on the way. The widow gives Irina a 7min eta. 7min to get an unconscious Yelena, out of the apartment to somewhere safe. Vienna was not safe, Austria was not safe. Any neighbouring country was not safe. She dragged the backpack out from under the bed, flinging the bag over her shoulders. Turning to Yelena, to gently lift her from the bed. Oksana stumbled a bit, Yelena being lighter than she expected.

She turned to leave the room, staring at the ceiling to avoid looking at Irina’s body. She regretted it. When she stepped into the hall, the smell of burnt flesh filled her nose. The two dead widows, with the skin from their faces melted off. Their hollowed out eye sockets watching every move she made, judging her, reminding her of everything she has ever done. Oksana did not acknowledge them, as she stepped over their bodies. The kitchen, and living room were empty. The front door missing from its frame, whatever remained of it scattered in splinters across the floor. She made a short detour to the coffee table in the living room, swiping her cellphone. 

She had to get a vehicle, get them as far away from here as she could. The contractor she employed could get her anything else she needed, she just needed to get out of Vienna. Oksana exited the apartment turning left down the hall, headed for the staircase. She had a sneaking suspicion that getting out of the city, was going to be the easiest part of all of this. 

She really hoped her connection hadn’t gone dark on her yet. They were enacting Project Nemesis. 

Chapter Text

Natasha struck the punching bag over, and over again. Sweat stuck to her skin, her clothes clinging onto her body like shrink wrap. Madame B stood behind her, watching her every move. Critiquing every swing, and misstep. Repeating the same phrase over, and over again at every mistake she made. 

“Again.” Natasha hadn’t swung quickly enough. 

“Again.” Her footwork had been sloppy.

“Again.” She didn’t know. 

“Again.” She didn’t know. 

“Again.” She didn't know. Whack! 

“Again.” She knew. 

Training ended hours ago, supper having just finished when Madame B had found her. Natasha was seated, waiting to be dismissed before she, and the other girls went to bed. She barked out Natasha’s name, ordering her to follow. Madame B led Natasha down the endless winding halls. Natasha was tense the deeper into the facility they walked, she hadn’t been this far into the facility. She tried to make a mental map of the area, but she was to frightened to do so properly. The wing they entered was quiet, she hadn’t seen even one of many guards, who would normally be patrolling the halls. Finally Madame B stopped in front of a white door, she turned to Natasha. 

“Enter.” 

Natasha immediately turned the knob, pushing the door open, gazing into the room. It was a bedroom, a very white bedroom. Natasha was already on full alert when she was pulled aside, but now she had a feeling of foreboding to go along with it. Madame B stepped right behind her, placing her hands on her shoulders. Squeezing gently, pushing her forward with fake encouragement. 

“Go on, take a look.”

Natasha took a few tentative steps, her eyes picking apart every inch of the room as she entered. The walls were white, the floors were white, the fluorescent lights burning her eyes, everything was white. The thin mattress sitting on a thick metal frame, the small dresser, and wardrobe, the desk, and the computer… The handcuffs.

“Well?” Madame asked, her words sickly sweet.

“Thank you for the gift Madame.” She could feel the sadistic joy radiating from the woman behind her. 

“This was a gift from The General Natalia, he sees your potential. Potential that needs to be nourished, to be carefully molded.” Madame B placed her hand on the back of Natasha’s neck. Leaning down to press her lips to her ear. 

“You are inadequate.” Natasha froze as her breath tickled her ear, the Madames words sinking their teeth into her skin. 

“We will fix that.” A heavy footfall was approaching them, the sound had Natasha’s fists curling at her side. Her breath quickened as the scene around her crumbles. The blinding white walls peel like glue on one's hand. The furniture sank into the decaying floor, which acted as quicksand. Swallowing everything around it, Natasha had jumped back trying to not be eaten herself. Natasha turned to face Madame B only to be faced with a morphing green, beige, and black human form. The figure contorting, black tar bubbles creeping underneath its skin. 

Natasha sucked in a breath, the harsh scent of salt raking down her throat. Causing her to cough, as the wooden floor shook turning into wet pavement. The peeling walls gave way into a harbour, her face scrunched as the frozen ocean water misted her face. An abundance of headlights illuminated rows of shipping containers, lining the edge of the harbour. The water crashing at the backs of them. Natasha’s silhouette decorated the front of one of them, she strained her ears. A drumming sound coming from inside each one could be heard, the soldiers who stomped around the harbour, their boots banged in rhythm, with the drums. Flashlights wielded from the soldiers danced across the night sky, each beam of light being swallowed into the starless sky. 

Natasha spun to find Madame B, her breath caught in her throat. The woman's mutation had turned her into one of Dreykov’s soldiers, no longer was she a short petite woman. Instead the Madame stood as tall as a giant, 7ft, with thick body armour, an armoured helmet with a black visor. An automatic weapon clutched between her meaty hands, the strap slung around her neck.

The soldier charged forward, Natasha jerking back. Throwing her arms up to defend herself, only to feel two separate pairs of hands grab her arms. She twisted, and fought trying to dislodge their grips. It was futile as the soldiers gripping her arms dragged her backwards, Natasha screamed as she fruitlessly tried to dig her feet in. 

A chorus of horrified screams joined hers, dozens upon dozens of little girls each being man-handled. Grabbed by their clothing or hair to be dragged from one of the dozen shipping containers, pulled from superior to superior to be processed, and numbered. One group of girls were thrown into the backs of armoured vans, the doors slamming shut. Sealing their fates. Others were dragged into the dark, never to be seen again.

Their faces were tear, and snot-stained as they cried. Some of the girls were sisters, or friends. They clung to one another like velcro, only for their bonds to be ripped apart. Even complete strangers grew to be protective of one another. The time spent in the dark solidifying short-lived alliances, as the soldiers dragged them from place to place. 

A thunderous roar of combat boots shook the pavement under her, causing Natasha to slip. Armed soldiers plundered past her, she wrenched as far away as she could from them. Watching the blur of bodies, move as one. Natasha could feel tears slip down her cheeks, she wanted to cry out but she felt as if she couldn’t breath. She could feel her resolve crumbling with each stomp. 

“Natty!”

Natasha screamed, a fire being lit under her. She wrenched, and fought even harder searching for the voice calling out for her. Fighting against the guards dragging her with everything she had. A scream erupted from somewhere Natasha couldn’t pinpoint, making her falter. Another scream followed shortly, a horde of bullets ripped through the night air, Natasha watched as smoke from the guns rose above a wall of vehicles. The silhouettes of the men barely visible through the windows. Black splatters pasting the windows. 

The two men dragging her came to a halt, Natasha jerked a bit to regain her footing. Breathing heavily as she looked around at the dock they dragged her to, the hands around her disappeared suddenly making her jump. The ocean raged below the rotting wood, each wave hitting against the dock, threatened to send it collapsing into the sea. The sky above her was black, the stars, and the moon having refused to come out tonight. Refusing to bear witness to the horrendous actions of The Red Room, refusing to acknowledge the atrocities taking place. 

Natasha nearly fell when a ghost of a hand brushed against her face. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath visible in the cool air. 

“Natalia.” Dreykov whispered in her ear. Natasha gasped, and spun to face him. There wasn’t anyone there. 

“Finish it.” Natasha wailed, frantically searching for the voices whispering in her ear. 

“Nat.” 

“Clint?!” Natasha called out for him, turning to sprint towards land. 

“He came to kill you.” A nameless ghost taunted her. She ran even faster.

“N-” Clint? The shore was getting further away, she wasn’t moving. 

“Shoot him.” Mila? 

“Hey- Oww!” 

“Yelena!” Natasha screamed, tripping over her own feet, falling forwards. Plunging into the ocean, Natasha kicked, and clawed towards the surface. But every kick seemed to just drag her deeper, her lungs burned with the intensity of a raging wildfire. She needed to breathe, needed air, but the surface was just getting further, and further away. The ocean was so cold, her limbs began to slow. She tried to scream but no sound escaped, the world around her getting darker. She had to get to Yelena, she had to find her before they got to her. 

“She’s sick.” Natasha’s own voice echoed in her ear. She was so tired.

“She’ll be fine. You’ll both be fine…” Freezing salt water rushed into mouth, down into her lungs.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay. Breath Natasha, breath.” Natasha took a large breath, oxygen filling her lungs instead of the ocean. The freezing water no longer crushing her body, slowing her movements. The salt that clung to the air no longer burned her throat, a soft nearly unnoticeable scent of cedar instead soothed her nose. The soft pressure on her face grounded her, it was warm. The hands gently stroked her cheekbones, keeping her steady as her head grew heavy. 

“Open your eyes Nat, open your eyes for me.” The voice was gravely, Dreykov. Natasha flew backwards, only she was unable to. Natasha’s eyes flew open, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in her surroundings. She was sitting on the floor in her room, her back pressed against the wall. Clint was crouched in-front of her, when he saw her eyes widen slightly he schooched backwards a bit. 

Clint kept his hands open holding them out, keeping them clearly in Natasha’s view. He watched as she scrutinized his every move, combing over his body for any weapon he may have on his person. Natasha calmed slightly after noticing Clint was not an immediate threat. Her breathing was raspy, she fought herself to relax. Her eyes jumped up towards the corners of the ceiling, Clint followed her eyes catching on quickly.

“It’s just me, and you” Natasha’s focus snapped back to him, she ground her teeth together curses, and insults rolling off her tongue. 

Clint kept calm as Natasha began to insult him, each insult getting more, and more vulgar. Quickly turning into accusations he’d never even dream of doing. He didn’t say anything, working on configuring the best course of action in his head. When Natasha jumped to her feet, Clint slowly began to rise. She was coming straight at him, Clint tensed a little. Not knowing for sure whether she’d swing at him or not. 

Natasha was ready to punch him, she wanted nothing more than to drag his family into her anger. Watch as his face turns from passive, and concerned. Too angry, and detached. Watch as he raises his arm to hit her, bringing his fist down on her. Let him drag her to the ground, to kick her. She knew just what to say to get him to, just where to poke, and prod. Her fists curled, as she came to a stop right in front of him. 

Clint watched as Natasha’s eyes went through a myriad of different emotions, her face twisted as she huffed. She took a step back, and dropped her head. Natasha tried to drag in a breath, but her chest felt constricting. Her breaths come in quicker, and shallow. Her eyes burned as her breath became hitched, she choked on the sobs that spilled from her lips. Natasha squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into her hair as she broke. 

As Natasha fell apart, her legs wobbled. Clint was at her side instantly, wrapping his arms around her. Guiding her to the floor, she whimpered a wordless ‘no.’ Clint maneuvered them both so she was sat between his legs. Natasha tucked her head between her knees, pulling at her hair. Tucking her limbs as close to her body as she could, effectively cocooning herself. 

Clint gently grabbed her hands, careful to avoid her wrists. Pulling them away from her hair, he wrapped his arms around her. Clint took exaggerated deep breaths, trying to get Natasha to copy him. His heart constricted as he tried to soothe her, rubbing his thumbs softly over the backs of her hands. 

“You're safe Natasha. You’re safe.” Natasha shook her head, trying to speak through her sobs.

“If only that was true.” It came out clunky, and barely above a whisper, but Clint heard it. This time he’s the one who shook his head, shushing her, as he pulled her just a bit closer. 

“You're not alone Nat, you've got people. You’ve got a team. We will figure this out together, all of us.” Natasha wanted to tell him just how wrong he was, but held her tongue knowing he knew she didn’t believe him. 

They sat in silence for some time, Natasha slowly relaxing. Copying Clint’s exaggerated breaths, finding security with him wrapped around her. Clint didn’t move, or say anything. Letting Natasha take the lead. Natasha sighed, and slowly straightened up a bit. Stretching her aching muscles, Clint unraveled himself from her. He groaned as he stretched his back, an audible pop accompanying it. Natasha smirked a bit.

“How old are you now? 70?” She teased him.

“Ha, ha, ha. Keep it up, and I'll have Kate take you out at the knees.” Clint said unamused. 

“So sensitive. Threatening me with a child.” Natasha mocked him.

“You’d let her.”

Natasha smiled a bit. “Just once. God knows she doesn't need any higher of a horse.” Clint laughed.

“She’s turning into Stark.” Clint pointed out, slightly irked at the thought.

“Oh god. I thought she was supposed to be your apprentice.” 

“She was. She spends way too much time with Peter, who spends way too much time with Tony.” 

Natasha huffed, “Stark’s going to rot their minds. I see the light leave Pepper’s eyes everytime he speaks.”

“Noble sacrifice.” 

She snorted, “Lack of self-preservation if you ask me.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence, both of their minds wandering. Natasha was stuck on one thought only… Yelena. A hair raising shiver vibrated through every muscle, and nerve she had. Natasha had hoped for a second with every fiber of her being, that Yelena was not working for Hydra. She’s dead, she reminded herself. This random fuckin bitch was just trying to get under her skin, trying to get her to break. And you did, shut up! 

“How long?” Natasha asked, slightly turning to look at Clint when he was quiet for a moment too long. 

“Getting close to about 2 hrs now.” He sighed, schooching out from behind Natasha to sit beside her. Natasha watched Clint settle next to her, quickly averting her eyes when she saw the look he was giving her. 

“Tony called S.H.I.E.L.D in.” Clint said quietly. Natasha shut her eyes, shaking her head.

“Fury’s been here for a bit, Maria just showed up.” 

“Fuck.” Natasha whispered, running a hand through her hair. 

“Hey-” 

“I fucked up.” Clint didn’t respond to that. He just reached his arm up, to wrap around her shoulders. Pulling her closer into his side, Natasha leaned into him. 

“I didn’t mean to.” The words came out strained. Shame, and guilt laced into every word. Clint just held her a little tighter, “I know.” 

He looked down at her. “What happened?” Natasha felt her eyes burn, she took a shaky breath, licking her lips. 

“Yelena…” She didn’t have to say anything else, Clint understood immediately. 

“Did she say who she was working for?” 

Natasha shook her head, “No.” 

Clint nodded. The two fell into another period of silence, Natasha working on mustering up enough courage to face the others. 

“Ms. Romanoff? Mr. Barton?” F.R.I.D.A.Y interrupted. Natasha glanced up towards the ceiling, whilst peeling herself away from Clint. Clint glanced down at Natasha concern etched on his face, pulling away from her before turning his attention towards the A.I. 

“Yeah?” 

“Both of your presence is being requested by Director Fury in the main level conference room.” Clint opened his mouth to inform F.R.I.D.A.Y to tell Fury to fuck off, when Natasha cut him off.

“Let him know we are on our way.” Clint looked at Natasha, who was already rising to her feet.

“Yes, Ms.Romanoff.” 

Clint rose from the floor, Natasha was already pretty much to the door by the time he stood, so Clint jogged to catch her. 

“Hey, hey, wait a minute.” Clint grabbed Natasha’s arm to stop her, he could feel her tense ever so slightly. She stopped, and looked over at him. Her face was blank, and unreadable. 

“You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.” 

“I know.” She said instantly, Clint sighed internally. 

“I know, you know. You know what else I know? You won’t say no.” Clint hardened his words, and gaze at the end. Hoping that maybe just this once she will understand she can say no. Natasha did nothing but nod her head slightly, turning back around to leave the bedroom. Clint bit his tongue, and followed her out. 

The pair walked down the hall into the main living area of Natasha’s floor. The room was massive, opening up into an expansive kitchen, and living room. The place certainly had Tony’s touch, it was modernized with white cabinets, quartz countertops, and state of the art appliances. An island planted in the middle of the kitchen, with stylish bar stools to go with it. An expensive collection of international wines, and hard liquor thanks to their travels, sat on display inside a liquor cabinet. The living room mirrored an open field, the ceiling towered above them, the wall to the left was glass from floor to ceiling. The view from outside nothing more than miles, and miles of trees. It was sparse besides a couch sprawling across the room. An 80 inch tv, with a large collection of VHS, and DVDS organized at the bottom in a display case. 

It was clean, and seemingly untouched. Not a speck of dust out of place, even the extravagant chandelier hanging above the small dining table, looked as new as the day it was installed. Clint’s heart twinged every time he saw it. Natasha pressed the elevators button, waiting patiently. The doors pinged, opening smoothly. The pair stepped inside, Natasha pressing the button which would take them to the main floor. When the doors shut, Clint snuck a glance at Natasha. 

She had returned to her outwardly normal self, standing tall, and confidently. As the elevator pinged announcing their arrival, Clint followed behind Natasha. Natasha floated out of the elevator, a silent shadow making its way to the conference room. They navigated their way down the near endless twists, and turns of the compound. 

Shortly the graphite grey walls of the compound to their right, turned into a wall of glass. Inside the conference room, they could see Fury, and Maria speaking to most of The Avengers seated around the table. As Natasha, and Clint reached the door, everyone in the room paused their conversations. Turning to watch them as they entered the room. The room was tense, the place seemed to buzz with friction. 

Sitting at the large rectangular table in the center of the room was Scott, Sam, and Happy side-by-side. Bruce was sitting alone opposite to them on the right, looking ready to hole himself up in his lab to never be discovered. Bucky was there as well, hiding in the corner like a rat. More inclined to observe, than participate. Tony, and Steve were nearly in one another's faces. Both men’s steely glares softened a fraction as Natasha, and Clint strolled towards them. 

Fury stood at the table's head, sucking in every ounce of authority from everyone else in the room. Maria was situated beside him, her arms crossed, taking mental notes on everyone, and everything. As the pair neared the head of the table, Steve stepped towards them.

“You alright?” He asked. 

Natasha nodded. “Fine.” 

“Agent Romanoff.” Fury addressed her, Natasha snapped her head towards him.

Natasha found Fury to be an intimidating man, even after so many years. Their initial relationship was comparable to a dinghy, lost at sea during a violent tropical storm. Fury had been pissed at Clint, when he returned with Natasha in tow. At the age of 18 Natasha’s ledger was as blood-stained as S.H.I.E.L.D.S most acclaimed agents combined. She had made quite the name for herself, many referred to her beforehand as Seirenes.

Clint had vouched for her every step of the way, which she was the utmost grateful for. Natasha spent countless days, nights, weeks, months, and years trying to gain the trust, and respect of S.H.I.E.L.D. But no matter how she proved herself, in loyalty, intelligence, strength, or adaptability, to name a few it was never enough. 

Even today S.H.I.E.L.D.S newest recruits drank in the rumours, and stories surrounding the infamous Black Widow. There were thousands of stories all from different people, some told grand tales of her assassinating numerous government officials, bombing hospitals, or charities, being the inciting force for full blown out wars between allies. Those were some of the tamer tales told.

Fury had been hard on her for the first 7 months before she completed her defection, afterwards he relaxed considerably. Truthfully she missed his harshness, she never did complain though. Maria had treated her similarly to everyone else. Professionally. Though she did seem a bit more lenient in some areas, than others would be granted. Natasha swore sometimes they actually seemed to like her.

“When S.H.I.E.L.D agreed to help The Avengers, we put a deal in place. Any Hydra soldier, doctor, hostage, whatever you want to call them are apprehended. They were to be brought to S.H.I.E.L.D for questioning, and punishment. Not to be brought here, without my knowledge.” Natasha recoiled internally a bit, his tone was stern, lacking its usual charm. 

“And then you shoot them. Explain.” Fury looked at her expectantly. It reminded her of being lined up with the other girls, receiving a lecture about something she didn’t bother to listen to. She swallowed, she had to come up with a believable lie. Clint’s words stuck to her though, she could refuse if she wanted to. But she couldn’t, so she explained. 

“The woman mentioned an old colleague of mine, brought up a sore spot for me. It was an emotionally impulsive decision,” Natasha shook her head slightly. “It will not happen again.” 

Fury watched her carefully, not believing a word she said. “Okay.” 

He walked around the table towards her, “Explain this then.” He slammed something onto the table beside Happy, who jumped at the action. Everyone was on the edge of their seat, trying to catch a look at what Fury wanted her to see. The boys are able to just hold back the urge, from clambering over one another to take a look. Natasha felt dread grow inside her like a plague, it twisted in her limbs, and coiled around her throat. She approached the table. Fury stepped away when she leaned over it slightly, to stare down at what he had slammed down. 

Natasha could not control the hiss that escaped her lips. Her body shivering from an unwanted feeling, her fingers turning white as her nails dug into the skin of her palms. She ground her teeth, trying to exude enough control to keep herself from decimating the woman's body further. Everyone noticing the drop in Natasha, were spurred forward to look at the item now. 

Staring back at her on an old photostrip, was Yelena, and herself. A 5 year old little Yelena, sitting on Natasha’s lap, finishing up a day at a pop up carnival Alexei dragged them to. She had sworn to herself that she would wipe Yelena’s memory clear from her mind, and she did. Until that bitch had to bring her up, and now Yelena’s face had become permanently etched into her mind again. 

Clint sensed the change in Natasha, quickly noticing everyone moving to see the item. He quickly stepped toward her, using his leg to spin Happy’s office chair across the room, grabbing Sam’s shirt shoving him back down into his seat. Scott held up his hands, sinking back down into his chair. 

“Hey! The hell man?” Sam protested.

Clint took a split second to see what had scared her. He had never seen a picture of Yelena before, but he knew it was her. The few times Natasha had ever described her, he swore to himself he would remember every detail. Natasha did not exaggerate on any of her features, but Natasha’s features clearly showed she was about to blow a gasket. 

“Where did you get this?” Clint asked, positioning himself to keep Sam’s, and Scott’s sneaking glances at bay. 

“I got it.” Tony spoke up immediately.

“Little miss “Sketa” over there, was carrying it.” Tony uses air quotes around the woman's name. Clint now wanted to punch two people in the face. 

“And based on our resident assassins reaction. She knows exactly who those children are, one of which I already deduced is her.” Tony said matter-of-factly, pointing his finger at Natasha. Clint could feel his blood boiling. Steve had stepped around Tony, coming up to the table to look at the photostrip. Clint immediately blocked his path. 

“Barton.” 

“Rogers.” 

“Natasha, and I made a deal when we took the woman with us.” He reminded him. 

“Deals done.” Clint retorted. “S.H.I.E.L.D got called in without her go-ahead.” 

“Our deal did not include shooting her in the head, Nat agreed the team would not be left in the dark. What would you have me do?” 

“A little trust would go a long way.” 

Tony laughed at Clint. “I could say the same thing to you, Barton.” Tony was all too ready to gang up on the archer.

“Okay, okay,” Bruce interrupted. “Let’s just all hear her out before we all go pointing fingers.” 

“You weren't even with us, jolly green giant!” Tony’s voice started to raise, his frustration evident. 

“Am I not a part of the team? Don’t we all get a say in these things? Or is that just something Steve says to keep us all calm.” 

“Only one here who needs to be calm is you, crusher claw.” Tony’s quips were getting everyone riled up. 

“That’s enough Stark.” Steve turned back towards Tony, the two already squaring one another up. Sam stood from his seat, the room erupting in protests. Exempting Clint, Natasha, Maria, and Fury who all stayed silent. Happy stopped Sam in his tracks from getting to Stark. Banner was trying his best to control his anger. Bucky, and Scott watched everything fall apart around them. With Scott sinking further, and further into his seat. Wishing now more than ever he had his suit on.

“Enough.” Fury ordered, everyone fell silent at the booming order. They all turned their attention to the director. The place was about to erupt into a back alley boxing match, which he didn’t have the time for. Tony, and Steve kept at their staring contest. 

“Romanoff.” Natasha turned her head slightly to look at him, she nudged Clint slightly with her foot. He glanced back at her, before moving over slightly. He had crept back to stand in-front of her, during the chaos. 

“I’m going to ask you again,” Fury said, “explain.” Natasha didn’t want to, but she could already feel the truth crawling up her throat. 

“I was not lying, she is an old colleague of mine. She’s dead.” Fury stepped closer, taking in every imperfection that made her. 

“Where?” The crack from her tooth breaking could be heard by everyone. 

“Red Room.” Her voice was steady, but somber. 

Fury nodded, “And this woman? Sketa.” 

“I don’t know, I do not recall any Sketa.” 

Fury studied her closely. “Could you find out?” 

Natasha nodded, “Yes.” 

“Good.” He turned away from her, heading back to stand with Maria. Natasha sucked on the blood pooling in her mouth, the metallic taste was comforting. The pain coming from the exposed nerve replicated that of electrical shocks, it kept her mind from divulging itself down whichever nightmare it wished to. For once Natasha couldn’t get a conscious reading on the man, Fury turned to address everyone in the room.

“Here’s what's going to happen. I consider myself to be a forgiving individual. So, I’m going to be giving you all one last chance.” Fury’s eyes swept the room, before reaching a hand out behind him. Maria placed an iPad into his awaiting hand. He pressed a few buttons before a light blue hologram burst from the screen, he placed it in front of him onto the table. 

“The Hydra base you all cleared came up empty, they destroyed every shred of evidence that was there.” Fury spun the hologram, the base they raided spinning into view. 

“You will all be going back-” 

“You just said it was empty though.” Scott said, pointing out the obvious. “Shouldn’t we be going to a base that isn't destroyed.” Fury didn’t roll his eyes but he wanted to.

“Thank you for your input.” He sighed, and touched the hologram in a few separate places. The image deconstructed itself down to its base layers, each floor stacked on top of one another. The numbers beside it representing its level. The other bits, and bobs attached informing the viewer of its altitude, depth, and other figures. 

“You went in looking for Hydra evidence, now you're looking for evidence of The Red Room.”

Scott raised his hand. “Question.” 

Fury looked done. “Yes, Mr. Lang.” 

“What is The Red Room?” Scott had asked the unasked question everyone wanted to know, like a comedy movie everyone’s heads slowly swiveled to Natasha. Natasha had heard Scott’s question, she could feel everyone’s eyes fall onto her. A few choice words flittered through her mind, before refocusing on the prompt. 

She knew she had to answer, she just couldn’t. At least not in full, or completely truthfully. The only person she ever felt even slightly comfortable speaking about The Red Room to was Clint, and he had said she didn’t have to answer anything she didn’t want to. 

But she also made a deal with Steve, she agreed the team would not be left in the dark. If Fury was going to send them after what was left of The Red Room, or Hydra’s pathetic recreation of it. They would need to be prepared. 

“It was where I was trained, since I was a child. Clint, and I killed the man responsible for it. That woman was one of its victims.” Natasha licked her lips. 

“If Hydra has taken The Red Room’s leftovers, the widows trained the way I was will kill you.” Her tone turned serious, a cold biting edge to it. No longer did she stand hunched over, in a split second she had taken control of the room. 

“We were trained to endure anything, we were trained to be ruthless, and efficient. There is no reasoning with them.” 

“Nat-” Steve started. 

“No.” Fury cut him off. 

“She is right, they are not Hydra. You all will use non-lethals on the widows, any widow that is captured from now on will be brought directly to S.H.I.E.L.D. You are only permitted to use lethal measures, if you yourself, or another member of your team are about to be killed.” He returned his attention to the hologram. 

“The fourth floor is where you found her?” He asked. 

Clint nodded. “Yes.” 

“Then you will all start there, Agent Romanoff will tell you what to look for. Do as she says, if you find something it gets immediately reported to me.” 

“Uh, is that not what the mission reports are for?” Bruce asked. 

“They are, but I don’t trust any of you to not leave something out.” Natasha felt as if a knife ripped through her chest, she dropped her eyes momentarily before resuming her previous facade. 

“Hill will get all the details sorted out before you leave, you’ve all got 15 hrs to get yourselves prepared. Use this time to get any unresolved tension out, I am not going to be playing referee with a team on the verge of killing one another.” With that Fury headed towards the door, not sparring anyone a look as he exited the room. Maria took his place. 

“Well?” 

“Well what?” Scott asked. Maria was getting sick of his obliviousness. 

“Get your shit together.” Scott’s face brightened as he understood, which quickly dropped as he caught onto her tone, and the look she was giving him.

“Right, right, then I will just be that way, go that way, just. Yup.” Scott clumsy got up from his chair, taking a few steps towards the door before stopping. He turned to look at everyone else who had yet to move. 

“That means all of you.” Maria ordered. The rest of The Avengers hesitated before shuffling slowly towards the door, the silence following them into the hallway. Natasha, Clint, Steve, and Tony all hung back. When the conference room door clicked shut, Maria re-addressed the room's remaining occupants. 

“Get anything you want to say out now, or so help me god I will kick all of your asses if you drag this bickering out into the field.” The four were all silent, each waiting for the others to speak, the men all exchanged glances, their gazes sometimes flickering to Natasha. Finally Tony spoke up. 

“So when do we get an apology?” 

“What?!” Clint’s anger was immediately stoked back to life. 

“For her lying.” He said as if it was obvious. 

“The fuck did she lie about?” Clint bit back.

“Really need me to spell this out for you King of the Pirates?” Tony held his hands up, in mock surrender. He shrugged.

“Okay.” He put a hand out, readying himself to count out every lie on his fingers. 

“Stark.” Steve jumped in, silently telling Tony to tone it down. The slight glare Tony sent his way, said he got it. 

“Look. For this team to work we need to trust each other, we need to know each other. At least on a semi-informed basis. Hell, we know more about Captain Snowplow than we do our resident assassin.” Natatsha’s fingers twitched. Tony approached her a bit.

“You gotta give us something. Not this secretive, spy, BS.” Natasha stayed silent. 

“I don't care what it is, give us a name, an accomplice, a location, a story, I don’t care.” Tony’s desperation shown through his words, bathing Natasha in his distress, as she worked through every half-lie, not quite the truth she ever told them. Tony scoffed, turning to interrogate Clint. 

“You’d know something.” 

“No-” 

“Well now I'm working with two liars,” Tony snapped his fingers pointing at Natasha, and Clint. 

“Am I allowed replacements?” He looked over at Maria.

“You gonna let me speak? You gonna let Nat speak?” Clint said coldly.

“Why? You're just going to lie anyway.” Tony threw his hand up, turning away from them.

“What did you want to know?” Natasha asked, a little quiet. Everyone turned to look at her. Tony spun on his heels, coming towards her. Stopping just a few steps in-front of her. 

“The other girl. The one in the photo, what’s her name?” Of all the questions he could have asked, he had to ask. The one the promise of death, and torture couldn’t have even pulled the answer from her. Her uncomfortable behaviour told Tony all he needed to know. 

“A little trust goes a long way, isn’t that what Clint said?” Tony sneered, his voice void of any compassion it may have once held. 

Steve didn’t jump to defend Natasha. As much as it hurt him, he needed answers just as much. Just as he had feared the team was falling apart, and if Natasha giving the team a name would put a pause on this rapidly growing rift. Then he would just have to bite his tongue for now. 

“Say what you actually want to say Stark. Don’t fucking tiptoe around it.” Clint held himself back from getting in his face. He knew that if Stark actually said the quiet part out loud, Nat would crumble. Thankfully Steve grew a backbone, and put an end to the endless loop they found themselves talking in.

“This arguing won’t solve anything. We do the mission, then pick up this conversation when we all had some time to think things through.” Both Clint, and Tony were silent for a moment. Before both men nodded, agreeing to the temporary truce. 

“Good talk.” Maria said a little dryly. “Get out.”

Everyone began to file out, as Natasha went to follow Clint out, Maria stopped her. 

“Not you Agent Romanoff.” Natasha froze, catching Clint’s concerned gaze. She gestured with her head, silently telling him to go. His face twisted a little before shutting the door. 

Natasha sighed before facing Maria. Maria was watching the men walk down the hall, not acknowledging Natasha until they disappeared from view. Maria’s face softened a little, when she looked over at her.

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Natasha repeated her earlier statement. Maria hummed, walking towards Natasha. 

“Then you wouldn't mind handing over the photostrip?” She asked, holding her hand out. Maria had noticed Natasha swiping the photos, tucking them into a pocket when the team was arguing. Natasha stared at Maria. 

“Does Fury need them?” 

“Do you?” Yes, was Natasha’s immediate thought. She didn’t want to admit it, she knew Maria would immediately inform Fury. That’s the whole reason he hadn't taken the photostrip with him, why he didn’t demand it back. He wanted to see what she would do. 

“Yes.” She forced her voice to be as normal as she could. Praying that the trained agent would somehow miss it. 

Maria nodded. “Okay. It’s yours.” She said, stepping back towards the ipad. 

“I need to know everything the team needs to be looking for, Stark will be granted full access to our imaging modules. Among other things. Whatever you need to do this, you tell me, and I’ll get it for you.” Natasha joined Maria at the ipad. 

Together they worked through the floors, tearing apart every knook, cranny, and overturned pebble. Pinpointing exact locations that would be of interest, and ruling out confirmed dead-ends. Natasha gave Maria a list of equipment needed in the field, the two women speaking briefly about the behind the scenes work. Rounding out their conversation Maria asked Natasha about the widows. 

“They won’t get a chance to use non-lethals.” Maria made a face, before dismissing her. 

“Get that tooth looked at.” 

Natasha took her leave, as she stepped into the hall she made a beeline for the elevator. She checked her watch seeing she had been with Maria for well over 4 hours, cutting into the time she desperately needed to get her shit together. 

Natasha hoped that whoever might have been waiting for her had gotten bored, and had left. She didn’t want to speak, or see another living soul until it was time to leave. When the elevator arrived, she stepped inside, scanning her thumbprint. The elevator whirled as it dropped down floor, after floor. When she reached her floor the doors slid open, allowing her to step inside. A familiar heavenly scent hit her nose, she couldn’t help the deep breath she took. Happy yet distant memories danced around her head, the aroma guiding her like a ship lost at sea to the kitchen. Clint was there slaving away over the stove. He was covered in clouds of flour, sticking to his face, hands, and clothes. He looked similar to a Dalmatian, so similar in fact when he saw her enter the kitchen Natasha swore his tail would’ve wagged. 

“Probably not as good as Laura’s but I tried.” Clint said, gesturing to the mounds of dishes that needed to be cleaned. Natasha smiled.

“It’s the thought that counts right?”

“That’s what I've been told.” Clint smiled back at her, before turning back to the stove. 

Natasha quickly deduced that Clint had made her piroshki, the scattered remains of onion, and dill were a dead give away. She did not doubt him for a moment that his would not be better than Laura's. 

“Did you call Laura for help?” Natasha asked, stepping in beside him to help tame the… Well, words were best not used to describe what he was making. 

“I did, those are in the oven.” He said, knowing exactly what she was about to ask. 

“And this?” She asked, barely holding back her laughter. 

Clint shrugged sheepishly. “Desert?” 

Natasha genuinely laughed, Clint blushed a bit. But kept any sarcastic remark he had to himself.

“Thank you.” She told him sincerely, once she had calmed a bit. Clint’s face softened, an understanding smile curling his lips. “You're welcome.” 

Natashsa smirked a little. “You know what would be really thoughtful?” 

He didn’t like where this was going. “What’s that?” 

Natasha stood on her tiptoes, whispering into his ear. “Cleaning up.” 

Clint groaned, rolling his eyes, before throwing the wooden spoon in his hand into the pot. “I’ll just buy you new pots, and pans. How’s that sound?” 

Natasha eyed the spoon he tossed into the pot, standing completely upright in the sludge he had created. It reminded her of one of his kids' science experiments, which would be shockingly more edible than the creature currently begging for death in the pot. 

“I’m not going to argue with you on that one.” She agreed, flicking off the heat.

“Smart.” Clint eyed her for a moment, Natasha felt him staring again, and looked up at him. Clint held both his hands out, she quickly yet cautiously settled her palms into his. His thumbs gently stroke over her knuckles.

“Hey.” Natasha looked down, before feeling Clint rest his forehead against hers. She released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. The tension leaving her body, making her quickly realize just how truly exhausted she was. 

“You okay?” Clint asked quietly. Natasha closed her eyes, her bottom lip trembling a little as she fought to keep her composure. 

“I don’t know.” Clint hummed, pressing against her a little more firmly before pulling back slightly. 

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know.” Natasha pulled back a bit more, releasing one of his hands to reach into her pocket. She pulled out the photostrip, she tried her best not to look at it before handing it to Clint. But her eyes betrayed her, sneaking a glimpse of blond hair. She ran her tongue firmly over her tooth. Clint gently took the photostrip from her, taking the time to properly go over the photos. 

They looked happy, the two of them together. Clint imagined this was the only time in either of their lifetimes, they were ever truly happy. Yelena had been murdered so young, Natasha trained, and honed to be the greatest spy. ‘The Red Room’s greatest accomplishment’ he remembers Natasha telling him one night many years ago. 

Clint considered retirement every time before, during, and after a mission. He considered it every time he talked to his family over the phone, everytime he would look into the rearview mirror of his truck as he drove away from his family. He spoke to Laura in length about it many times, and she agreed with him. He couldn’t leave Natasha. 

Clint held immense guilt over vouching for her at S.H.I.E.L.D, she was young enough at the time to have led a normal life. Or so he told himself, maybe the thought just helped him sleep better. He never truly believed she ever could. The nightmares that haunted her every night, the screaming, the crying. The ghosts that walk along with her, weighing her down like a ship's anchor. The numerous times she openly sobbed into his chest reciting the horrors of days gone by. No. She never could’ve, even if she wanted to.

“Clint?” Natasha said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Natasha pressed her forehead against his, her eyes boring into his with an intense air of seriousness. A slight smirk pulling at the corners of her lips, the intense air of her eyes shining with a hint of mischief. 

“If you ask me if I'm okay again, I'll sick Laura on you.” Clint broke into a laugh, gently shoving her off.

“Alright, alright, come on. Let’s see how my cooking compares to the master's.” 

They spent the next few hours eating, and drinking together. The weight of the day drops from them like layers of clothing, each hour more freeing than the last. Even as the festivities began to slow, and both of them slowly worked their way back into mission mode. A nagging thought scratched at the back of her brain, hanging on like a leech immune to salt. 

Yelena. It was impossible for that woman to have had the photostrip, it was so long ago, and Yelena was the last one who had it. Natasha remembers it clear as day, shoving it into her shaking hands telling her she would be okay. The Red Room would have had no use keeping hold of it, they wouldn’t have. Natasha knew how those cullings worked. She still remembered… 

That woman shouldn’t have even known her name, none of this was making sense. The feeling of dread came gurgling back up, threatening to blackened her bones, and smother her heart if she didn’t find out. She had to find out now, if Hydra or whoever else was behind all of this. Whoever was stupid enough to make the poor decision of reviving The Red Room.

She was going to kill them.