A/N: Please read and review!

Yeah, I've been dancing with the devil, I love that he pretends to care

Natasha glared at Rostov before looking down at the sheets of information he'd given her. Her reaction was not easy to keep concealed, but she'd had years of practice. Only seven of them had left the Red Room alive: Vera, Anna, Irina, Yelena, Lucia, Mariya, and herself. Rostov's reports state that Yelena, as she knew, had been bounty-hunting until a recent attack in Germany had left her hospitalized. It was somewhat exaggerated in terms of her injuries, but Natasha expected that was intentional on Yelena's part. Continuing through, Anna had remained working for Russia for a few years before going into private security details, body-guarding and the like. No reported attacks on her yet.

The others were not so lucky. Lucia had quit the business entirely, keeping herself busy with a dance studio. Until a gas leak caused it to go up in smoke, her along with it, only a week earlier. Vera had turned to vodka as a balm, spending time in and out of jail on manslaughter charges when she was involved in bar fights. Two weeks ago, she'd been found hanging in her cell with her blankets wrapped around her neck. Irina had stayed in the game, working for Russia all these years. She'd been reported missing in action a month ago. Mariya had turned her talents into being a freelance assassin, often hired by those affiliated with the mob to deal with rivals. Her execution-style death might have been the result of her bosses not appreciating how she played the field, but Natasha had a sinking feeling there was more to it than that.

"Natalia," Rostov said in a way that made her realize he'd been calling her for a while.

"Are you sure this is accurate?" she demanded, her tone harsher than intended.

He was grave. "Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't know," he began.

"I need to get to Anna, now," she told him sharply.

Something flickered in his eyes, but was gone before she could identify it. "What about Yelena?"

She waved him off. "I can handle this, Andre."

"Can you?" he asked, matching her tone.

"What's going on in here?" a quiet voice interrupted them. Both turned to look at the old woman in the doorway, holding a tank of oxygen and wheezing at them. "Andre, who is this?" she asked, looking Natasha up and down.

"Nothing to worry about," he told her calmly.

Her attention hadn't left Natasha, who forced a smile. "He was just giving me some information on old friends of ours."

"Those skinny devochki you used to spend so much of your time with?" she pressed.

"It's not important, babushka. Shouldn't you be resting?"

The old woman was about to speak again, but fell into a coughing fit and had to sit down. She closed her eyes as she inhaled carefully through the tubes attached to her. Rostov waited in anxious silence, and Natasha looked between the two of them curiously. The Red Room chose orphans for a reason. Families were a distraction. It seemed unlikely he would have been accepted, would have been promoted as far as he had been if they'd known about his grandmother. She would have to look into that, though nothing in her previous research had suggested the existence of such a person.

"Let's get you to bed. Natalia was just leaving," Andre said, the last part a little forceful.

"Your grandson has been very helpful," Natasha called, heading to the front door and letting herself out with a wave. Rostov frowned at her, but his grandmother waved back. And Natasha thought she had a good solution in mind for her old friend.

Back in her hotel, she perused the documents, then did a little more research online into both Andre Rostov and Anna. The latter now went by Helen Eddis, for whatever reason. She was employed in Moscow by many of the rich who spent time there, from businessmen to celebrities. Natasha was somewhat concerned to find that Gynacon was listed among her employers, given where Yelena had been attacked. Of course, only a handful of employees had been at that party, and Anna had plenty of other clients. Still, Natasha hadn't lived this long because she'd ignored coincidences like that.

Time to consult her sources.

"Maria, how are you?" she asked pleasantly as soon as her former colleague answered.

"What do you want?"

"Any leads?"

Hill sighed heavily, and Natasha could hear the distinctive sounds of her typing something. "Nothing pops on Ulyanov. He was born in St. Petersburg, went to school in Moscow, and has kept a house there ever since. Family fortune got him into school and into business with McMasters, as far as I can follow it. His parents were killed when he was about four, and he was raised by an aunt, who passed away five years ago. That's all I could find on him. What's this all about, Nat?"

"Do you know anything about the Sword of Judgment?" Natasha asked instead of answering.

"Not much. A radical group that's been gaining traction in the last couple years. They haven't done anything big yet, just staged a lot of protests, started some riots. No civilian casualties, so we haven't been looking into them. Why? Should we?"

"No, I think I can take care of it."

"Where are you?" Hill asked, exasperated. "I shouldn't be in contact with you like this," she added quietly.

Natasha smiled sadly. "I won't get you in trouble, Maria. I'll be fine. I'm sure you have plenty to worry about besides a former agent asking questions. I won't start any international incidences," she promised.

Maria snorted at that. "Good. Well, stay safe out there."

"You too."

Ulyanov's backstory was not particularly remarkable, and didn't indicate that he was dirty. Still, it was spare enough to be suspicious. At least to her. However, finishing Fury's mission would have to wait – other things had come up.

"Fury."

"I found the others, Nick."

"Rostov talked."

She snorted. "With some encouragement, yeah."

"And?"

"They're gone, Nick. All but three of us are gone. Most under some mysterious circumstances in the last month or so."

There was a pause. She wondered if he understood what this meant to her. "I see. Who's left?"

"Yelena, me, and Anna. She's in Moscow now. I'm going to pay her a visit."

"That seems wise. You need any backup?"

"No, Nick. I'm sure I can handle this. Has Yelena resurfaced?"

"I haven't heard anything. She's always been good at going to ground, though," he replied, a hint of admiration in his tone. "What else do you need from me?"

She considered. "Can't think of anything, Nick."

"Well, Barnes won't shut up about you, so stay safe out there. I'll get an earful if anything happens to you."

"You're right, that would be the worst part," she agreed. He laughed, and they said their goodbyes – short as always.

In the proceeding silence, she ran her fingers across the phone's smooth surface and considered her next move. Yelena was laying low somewhere, healing. But maybe she should ask her to come to Moscow as soon as she could. Natasha would feel better if they were all in one place. Of course, that would make it easier for whoever was hunting them.

Feeling indecisive and groundless, she made another phone call before bed.

"Natalia," James said, his tone somehow conveying more than his words would have.

"I'm fine," she promised. "A little off-mission right now, but I'll be home as soon as I'm done."

"Do you want any help?" he asked with forced nonchalance.

She smiled. "No, milii moi. I've got this. Just wanted to check in. How are things there?"

A pause told her more than he intended. "Everything's fine. Looking forward to your return."

"Alright. Well, I've got to get some sleep. I'll talk to you when I can. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Feeling better, she closed her phone and got ready for bed.