Notes: Many thanks to MaryPopNLockins for beta-ing
STALINGRAD 1988
She looked straight ahead because straight ahead was where they ordered her to look.
The door opened, followed by the sound of rolling wheels on concrete, a metal-framed television placed in her line of sight. Madame B's bony hand gripped into her shoulder. "Ask me again, Natalia."
The question. It was dangerous, she knew and still- bravery. That's what she'd been taught and this, more than anything, she needed to know. This, more than anything, she yearned to ask since discovering the concept. Now, at age six, she would be brave enough.
From under Madame B's bony hand, Natalia stayed perfectly still as she repeated her question. "Where is my mother?"
The hand tightened against her shoulder, a familiar gesture of approval. "Guard, play the film."
The person who had rolled in the television reached over and clicked on the VCR. Static lines and white noise filled the screen. Then it cleared into the grainy black and white footage of a hospital bed. A woman in stirrups screamed, hands gripping the side of the bed, cursing in Russian then French. Her hair was dark and matted to her forehead with sweat, Natalia could only see her face when she threw her head back in pain but she knew immediately that it was her mother.
Her breath held for a second, just a gasp between one inhale and the next but it was enough for Madame B's hand to pinch into the tendon of her shoulder. A reminder.
Natalia Romanova was supposed to be made of marble.
Her mother screamed again, the sound breaking off with a sob and then a stream of words Natalia could only half understand. "It's time, Doctor, please, please, pozhaluysta!" Natalia watched tears fall openly from her mother's eyes as her body clenched and pushed. In between the struggle she forced air into her body, composing herself for the next round of labor pains.
Hours passed.
Natalia sat like marble and watched her mother twist in agony, as doctors came and left. No drugs were ever administered. It was easy to become numb to the screaming.
Even knowing the woman on screen to be her mother, after the initial shock it became a fact like any other. One she could store away and process at a time when Madame B's hand was not on her shoulder; she was marble.
And then her mother's eyes met the camera and Natalia saw herself in them. The same almond shaped eyes and the same narrow chin. Her mouth hung open in a soundless scream until, finally, the crying of a infant broke her mother's focus. Natalia's cries, from six years ago.
She was marble. The burning in her chest simply meant that she needed to take in more oxygen. The blurring of her vision meant only that she needed to focus, keep her eyes on the screen because those were her orders, but internally focus elsewhere. That was her training, that was what she excelled in.
On the screen, her mother reached for her and Natalia watched as a nurse placed her tiny body into her mother's awaiting arms. The mother and infant quieted and Natalia felt a tear escape down her cheek. Madame B's hand left her shoulder.
The door of the hospital room opened, startling the three of them. High-pitched cries of a newborn only grew as a Doctor came to remove her from her mother's embrace.
"Natalia Romanova was born on November 22, 1984 in Stalingrad to Agent X12SA also known as Natalia Romanova." The nurse wrote down the Doctor's words.
Her mother reached out, trying to lift herself from the bed but she was still tied into the stirrups. The Doctor passed Natalia off to an awaiting nurse and the crying continued, desperate and unrelenting as her mother tried to use her weight to push herself from the bed, yelling in Russian for her child.
The Doctor stepped forward between Natalia's mother and her infant self. He spoke calmly, brushing a hand over her sweaty brow, calming her even as the newborn continued to cry.
Once her mother quieted, the Doctor took a step back. He reached into the pocket of his white medical coat and pulled something out, pointing it at her mother. From her angle, Natalia could not see the object but she could see her mother's eyes widen in fear. A loud bang echoed around the room.
With one shot to the forehead, her mother was dead.
The screen returned to static lines and white noise.
STARK TOWER 2010
"It's called dirty boxing and there's nothing new about it." A man's voice, Stark's chauffeur if Natalie's suspicions were correct, could be heard from around the corner. A Notary from legal would know about Happy Hogan, he was a constant presence by Mr. Stark's side.
"All right, put 'em up. Come on!" Stark said to Happy as Pepper pushed open the door to the gym. Natalie made sure to smile when Pepper looked over her shoulder, an uncertain one pasted expertly across her face.
"It really is easier for us to seek him out than wait for him to come to Legal."
"Of course, Ms. Potts," Natalie replied, ever pleasant and polite.
Natalie Rushman was adaptable.
As they entered the gym, Stark and Happy's attention fell towards her. Their boxing lesson was easily forgotten because Natalie Rushman was beautiful, even standing next to Pepper Potts.
"I promise this is the only time I will ask you to sign over your company," Pepper said around a smile as Natalie stood behind Stark Industries soon-to-be CEO, a folder in hand.
"I need you to initial each box," were the first words she said to Tony Stark. She let her face adapt a smirk, nothing too flirtatious but friendly enough to seem interested, approachable. She kept her eyes wide and her posture straight, a professional but captivating demeanor she kept far from seductive. Stark would rise to the temptation; it was her mission to become his assistant and she never failed a mission.
Happy spoke from the boxing ring and Stark kept their gazes locked even as he kicked his foot out and connected it with his chauffeur.
"That's it. I'm done." Tony announced. "What's your name lady?"
"Rushman. Natalie Rushman"
He lifted the ropes of the boxing ring, gesturing her inside. "Front and center. Come into the church."
"No," Pepper cut in. "You're seriously not gonna ask…"
Tony beamed. "If it pleases the court, which it does."
She needed keep Stark's attention on her, so she turned to Pepper with averted eyes, appearing demure. "Its no problem." And it wasn't because Natalie was adaptable, appeasing, appealing.
"I'm sorry," Pepper began, ever the professional. "He's very eccentric."
For a Stark, the word was an understatement.
She'd first heard the surname in the hallways of Hydra. The Commanders were referring to Stark the senior then, and it had to do with alien technology and arctic expeditions, not metal suits of armor. She'd been no older than eight, and it was surprising what people would say in front of a child, even one trained in the Red Room. She filed words away, even if she did not understand them.
Tesseract, Stark, the Winter Soldier.
Like his father, the Stark bouncing in the boxing ring was a known genius. But it was this man that had turned the name into a household one. Stark was the name chiseled into every cell phone and Starkpad because of him. It was Tony that graced the red carpet and the tabloids, not Howard. It was Tony that flirted with everything that walked into his line of sight.
It was Tony that created Iron Man.
For those many reasons, SHIELD wanted an eye on Stark junior and, as she lowered between the ropes of the boxing ring, it was obvious Tony wanted an eye on Natalie Rushman.
She maintained eye-contact. It wasn't particularly difficult but it was important. Maintain a level of intimacy, create a sense of curiosity. Make him want to know her more. The corner of her mouth tugged into the barest hint of a smile and she new she had him. It was evident in the way he stared a little too long, sipped at his water bottle even longer. He blinked a few times as he lowered it, eyes never leaving hers.
"What?" Stark asked, but she hadn't said anything so she didn't reply. Still, she let her amusement dance in her eyes.
"Can you give her a lesson?" Stark asked Happy and then he was out of the boxing ring and just out of earshot as he spoke with Pepper.
She didn't need to hear their conversation to know Stark was convincing Pepper to make her his assistant. Still, she kept her attention on the pair even as Happy began his boxing lesson.
"You ever boxed before?"
"I have, yes"
Happy smiled, continued to bounce with his fists up."What, like, the Tae Bo? Booty Boot Camp? Crunch? Something like that?"
Less than five minutes later she flipped the man over her shoulder and left him bruised on the mat. Natalie Rushman modelled in Tokyo, spoke five languages, there could be some conceivable reason for her to know advanced self-defense skills.
Madame B would've punished her for breaking cover, even a slip could open one up to unwanted questions. But Tony Stark hardly seemed to notice and Madame B was dead.
It was easy to get Stark's fingerprint and hold his attention even with his friend moaning on the mat. Then she turned and left, letting a small smile escape when she felt Stark and Pepper's eyes on her back. It was a short walk back to legal.
"I want one," she heard Stark say as the door closed.
Before Natasha could react, a voice from above said, "Please continue down the hallway to the awaiting elevator." Natasha had read about JARVIS but Natalie had never heard of him before. She jumped, startled. "I am sorry to surprise you, miss..."
"Natalie. Natalie Rushman." Her eyes searched frantically for cameras, any source of the sound.
"I am Tony Stark's AI system, Ms. Rushman. You need not look for me as I am everywhere."
Natalie chuckled, lifted her hand to push back a stray lock of hair. "That's ominous."
"You are not the first to say so."
She paused, waiting for the AI to say more but when he didn't she continued towards the elevator. "Thank you for the directions."
"You are welcome. Ms. Rushman. From Legal?"
"Yes."
"I see." The words sounded like a question. "I seem to have misplaced your employee file."
"I'm new," Natalie said, words smooth because Natalie had nothing to hide. "My file isn't in the system yet. They said it would take a week."
"I see." Another pause, the elevator doors opened. "Level five, legal."
"Level seven," Natalie corrected, and she knew JARVIS suspected something but had no idea what the AI would do with the information.
Fury would not be pleased.
UNKNOWN LOCATION 1994
A bit of dust played in the light from the Red Room's grand window and Natalia spun, once, twice, three times in a pirouette. Sweat dripped from her brow, down her neck, but the metronome continued in the corner and that meant she must continue to spin.
A knock on the door was followed by a Hydra Agent intruding upon the dance hall without waiting for Madame B to answer.
Spinning and spinning, if the interruption was anything other than an emergency or a Commander the Red Room's dance floor would live up to its name. And it wouldn't be the first Hydra Agent executed for interrupting Madame B's dance lesson.
The Hydra Agent stepped back to let a figure pass through the door.
Spinning and spinning, broad shoulders in black cotton as a man entered. Light caught on metal.
The click of Madame B's heels on the dance floor, the metronome shut off and Natalia staggered to a stop. Around her the sound of girls catching their breath but she stood silent, a marble statute ready to comply.
"We need a girl," the Hydra Agent said who had knocked said.
Madame B nodded then looked over at the imposing figure in the corner. In the shadows, it was hard for Natalia to make out his face but she could observe his metal arm easily. "A mission?"
"Yes," the Hydra Agent replied then turned to the man in the corner. "Choose."
The girls had lined up automatically and the metal armed man surveyed the dancers from his dark corner. In his stare was a cold calculation she did not need to see to feel.
"Your best?" The man stepped out of the shadow as he asked the question and Natalia was able to see him, jaw strong and hair falling to his shoulder. His eyes were harder, colder than she had sensed.
She kept her surprised expression hidden even as the girl next to her staggered in her step. Natalie pictured the lashes she'd get later, despite their instructor ignoring the motion.
Madame B never forgot a mistake.
"Natalia," Madame B answered his question and although Natalia knew the answer, she couldn't suppress the prickle of satisfaction that shot down her spine despite the lashes she'd get if Madame B noticed. Natalia had to remind herself that what Madame B stated was a matter of fact, not preference.
The man with the metal arm stepped forward, his weight creaking against the wooden dance floor. He walked down a line, starting at the youngest dancer on the far left, walking behind Natalia and passed her without a glance.
She held her breath as he passed, face towards the mirrors as expected but the hairs on her neck stood, as if the air around him was electrified.
"Her." From the mirror, Natalia could tell that he was pointing toward Margarette. She was one of the older girls, built wide and stocky and her face twisted with satisfaction as her reflection met Natalia's. Margarette had been chosen, even if Madame B considered Natalia the best.
The Red Room trained its assassins for this moment. Once they were chosen their graduation was accelerated, no matter the age of the girl. Once they were chosen for a mission, be it at six or nine or twelve, they never return. Her eyes left Margarette's with a warring sense of relief and disappointment.
The metal armed man was watching her through the mirror, his brow furrowed and eyes dark. She countered his stare, smooth and even. Blank, like she'd been taught. A person would read into a blank stare what they wanted or what they feared or what they needed. Or they would see her training, but they would never see the truth behind her stare.
The metal armed man raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth curled in amusement. She wondered, why he hadn't he chosen her? Was there something he wanted that Madame B's best could not provide?
The opposite corner of his mouth lifted into a smile and Natalia knew he'd seen her questions flash in her eyes. His head shook, a minute movement, still smirking as if trying to share a joke but the Red Room did not believe in humor. Least of all from metal armed Hydra agents who did not select her best dancer for missions.
Natalia finally dropped her eyes to the dance floor and let the heavy steps pass her, followed by Margarette's lighter ones.
She wondered for days after if she had imagined the exchange between herself and the the metal armed man in the mirror.
She had to wait almost a decade to find out why he had not chosen her.
SHIELD HEADQUARTERS 2010
One of the first decisions Natalia made in her life was to defect to SHIELD. Sometimes, like when she would sit across from Clint Barton in the mess hall, the man flicking peas into his cup of water, Natasha wondered why she had chosen to follow him and leave Hydra.
"Coulson wants us to be ready at any moment for a mission, it makes sense to stay here," Clint said. Again.
"And what would Stark think, if he saw me wandering around the SHIELD headquarters?"
"You'd know when he's coming," Clint grinned. "You're his Personal Assistant."
"Natalie Rushman is his personal assistant," Natasha corrected.
He flicked a pea against her cheek. "Same thing."
Natasha flicked the next pea away, changing its direction so it hit Clint square in the center of his forehead. "If you believe that, you're a horrible spy."
"I don't even know what I'm saying at this point, Nat." He pouted, actually stuck his front lip out and Natasha wondered why she was surprised. "I just want you back at the base."
She couldn't suppress her eyeroll. "You're like a child who lost his favorite plaything."
"Exactly! You not being here, it's starting to affect my sleep Nat." He yawned and stretched, arms twisting over his head. "Do you want to be the reason why my aim is off on our next Strike Team mission?"
"You're ridiculous." Natasha couldn't suppress her smile and Madame B would be rolling in her grave if Natalia hadn't burned her body. "I won't be going on any Strike Team Zero missions until Fury says I'm done with Stark."
"Nat," Clint whined. "I'm bored! Strike Team Zero was three missions away from beating Fury's record, that's the only reason he placed you on billionaire detail."
"And that's ridiculous as well." Natasha smirked, "Though probably accurate."
Clint leaned in, eyes suddenly serious. "Coulson told me it was actually because we were closing in on the Winter Soldier."
She didn't even have time to mask her surprise. And Clint wasn't a fool, no matter how much he liked to play one. He leaned forward, peas forgotten. "You knew him."
It wasn't a question and Natasha wouldn't lie to him, not about this, not when he'd eventually learn the truth. So instead she remained silent.
"Damn," Clint whispered. "That's probably why they pulled us."
Natasha hated it but she knew he was correct. Even if Fury didn't know all the details of her past, he wouldn't risk the connection.
"And that's why I'm babysitting Stark."
Clint lifted his pea filled water for a toast. Natasha did not raise her own glass, but Clint never seemed to care.
"To Hydra ghosts, for keeping us off the fun assignments."
"That's a horrible toast."
"Well, you're a horrible ex-Hydra agent that knows too many evil spy people that potentially create undercover op issues, so boo you."
Natasha smirked around her water glass before lifting it in a mock salute of her own. "To Clint's temper tantrums."
Clint snorted. "Whatever, go back to Stark if you must."
"Those are the orders. I'll be back when I return from Monaco."
"I'll be here," Clint sighed, dramatically. "Waiting for a mission that doesn't involve any of your ex-Hydra buddies."
I'm so very excited to finally be telling this story.
I hope you enjoyed :)
*Credits to Iron Man 2 for some of the dialogue.