I definitely share the opinion that the Red Room would have rendered Natasha and all their "students" unable to ever have children. But again, to make my beloved "Total" possible, I had to make that go away. Plus it's just too sad. I was going to make this the next oneshot for "Total", but I just didn't feel right doing that for whatever reason. Anyway, regardless of whether that makes sense, here's a stand alone oneshot for the "Total" timeline.

Consider it a bit of a pre-rec, taking place just after the first chapter/oneshot (which I would love to edit the heck out of) and before they start their new life together (ie: marriage, eventually moving out of the tower, Wind being born, etc.). ...Or feel free to just consider it any old Clint/Nat oneshot.

I hope this isn't too hurtful and I hope you find it worthwhile.

**Warnings for the implied horribleness of the Red Room**

And as always thank you for coming back to share in this little world. I do so love writing it. :D

-Lasta

. . .

. .

.

It was the first time Clint had seen Nat inebriated at all. Well, as much as she was capable of becoming; a bit more loose and maybe slightly sleepy. But that was it. They had drank together countless times during their partnership and still he'd never seen her get this far in. Both their tolerances were high. Very high.

That night Natasha was upset. Some garbage about a bad mission, about not being trusted. Old stuff stinging again. Ancient deep rage surfacing as petty work stuff.

She was sitting on her bed, knees up and her back against the headboard. Clint sat on the floor, resting his head back on the edge of the bed. He had the last bottle from two emptied six packs in his hand. She was still working on a bottle of vodka. It was mostly gone though.

Natasha had more on her mind than tedious SHIELD frustrations though. It had been only a week or so since she accepted Clint as more than a partner and more than a friend. She had accepted him as what he had already been to her for some time. They were actually going to tie the knot. Them! It still seemed so laughable, so bizarre. Hence the drinking session. She wanted to be with Clint for the rest of her life. She could be certain of at least that much. But that wasn't the issue. The whole idea brought on a wave of considerations, ones she had never had a reason to think about. And she felt, for the first time since Agent Barton had let her live, overwhelmed.

"Clint." she said easily, but tonelessly. The two had been sitting not saying anything for a little while.

"Yeah?" He craned his neck to get a view of her face.

"I don't know we could ever have kids."

It was totally out of left field, but still somehow he had the presence of mind for a unemotional reply. "Nobody knows that, Nat. I mean not for certain. Until it happens." Still, this wasn't a subject that had ever come up between them. It was part of that shadowy corner of her life that his friendship never needed to be apart of. Sure it came up a week or so ago when he finally threw caution to the wind and asked that they really be together and go all in. But in that moment, talk of kids, the risks of the job, etc. had really just been a rhetorical device. Yet suddenly here she was really considering the realities and speaking freely about it to him.

"...I got my cycle back a few months after I ran. Hadn't had it since I was twelve. They'd made it stop after that. ...I was never privy to the drug regiments they had me on. And I don't know what they did. Or didn't."
"So they never...?" It had always just been a given.
She shook her head. "I don't know."
He hesitated before asking, but she'd invited him to this conversation so he continued with great care. "Were you... were you ever pregnant before?"

"I'll never know." she said, her voice so deeply resigned. "We checked in from missions and submitted to medical evals, sedations and reprogramming. No matter how an assignment transpired. ...Whatever they may have done was done in my sleep. I always woke up in my cell dressed and ready for training."

During all of what she said, he hadn't take his eyes off of hers. Now, he inhaled and shifted his gaze back toward the ceiling. After a slow exhale he spoke. "Thank you for telling me."

"Why?"

"Because you've trusted me with everything."

"Same." she said.

Natasha took one more sip of vodka then placed the bottle on the side table. She rested her head back against the headboard and joined Clint in staring at nothing on the ceiling. After a moment she reached out her hand and her fingertips found the back of his shoulder.

He smiled just a little when he felt her light touch.

The silence settled comfortably back into the space between them.

Raised by Wolves isn't an original phrase or concept. But this particular use of it stems from the U2 song, "Raised By Wolves". A song about the traumas experienced by a man who did overcome it all in the end.