A/N: Chapter 10! Party time! I envision another five to ten chapters before this is over.
Reviews are welcome and appreciated!
Love, Silz
Late that night, Natasha and Clint went to see Yelena again.
"Yelena."
"Romanoff."
"Are you comfortable, as you can be at least," Clint asked.
"Like you care."
"Yelena, give me a chance to prove to you that you're being controlled," Natasha pleaded.
This peaked Yelena's curiosity. She would humor this other Black Widow.
"And how do you propose you do that," Yelena pointed out.
"Do you remember when you were a child?"
"Da. I do."
"Let me guess. You were a ballerina, and the only possession you retain is a photograph of a dance recital. Your parents, they died in a car accident when you were little and you were sent to live with an aunt and an uncle," Natasha began.
Yelena looked stunned. How could Natasha Romanoff possibly know these things? They weren't written down anywhere, even in her file at the Red Room.
"Continue."
"You didn't like this aunt or uncle so you ran away, and found by the Red Room, pledged yourself to them around age ten."
"How do you know these things…?"
"Because," Natasha sighed, "They are my memories to. Or were."
"How..?"
"The Red Room takes children from their parents when they are young and do a memory reconstruction on their operatives. Fortunately, we can do a memory restoration with our machines if you are up to it, Agent Belova."
"Da, da! If there is any possibility that I have been deceived," Yelena snarled, pacing back and forth in her cell angrily, "But wait. How do I know you are not deceiving me? Nyet. I must think these things over."
"Agreed," Clint nodded, "Come on, Nat."
Natasha sighed and nodded, "I'll see that you get a good meal tonight, Yelena."
Yelena merely stared at her. Why was this traitor being so kind to her? Yelena had done nothing but scorn her and insult her. Even this man, this Clint Barton, was being kind to her.
Were things not as they seemed? Was there more going on inside her head than simply orders? Had she been deceived by her mother organization? If so, what was she supposed to do? She knew one thing.
If the Red Room had indeed taken advantage of her as a child and used her, she would put an end to the Red Room. She would see them destroyed. They would die painful deaths at her hands.
But what about Bucky? What about her Winter Soldier? They were just friends, of course, but she loved Bucky like a brother. They had been through so much together, so many missions and training sessions.
In anger she picked up the tin cup she'd been given and, finishing off the water, threw it at the glass. She screamed in pure frustration and fury, trying to figure out what was going on.
Romanoff knew too much for Yelena not to believe her. There was just too much that she knew! They were things that even the Red Room hadn't recorded anywhere. Unless Romanoff was a telepath, which Yelena was pretty sure she wasn't, the only way she could have gotten that information was if it indeed had been implanted in her as well.
But she knew the Red Room. She trusted the Red Room. But then again, was she programmed that way? Was she trained and coded to trust the Red Room with her life? It was rather odd after all the things that the Red Room had put her through. Abuse, cold-hearted missions, abductions, assassinations. How could she feel love from an organization rooted in hatred?
"Do you think she'll come around," Tony asked them as they walked by the Recreation Room.
They turned in surprise, "What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep."
"Evidently," Natasha snorted, "And I'm not sure. Clint?"
"I have faith in you," Clint told Natasha, "If anyone can make her see the truth, it's you."
"I hope so. She doesn't deserve this."
"What'd you say to her," Tony asked.
Natasha shifted, "Just revealed some things from her past that we shared in common. Jolted her awake."
"I'm guessing that's all you'll say on the subject," Tony poked.
"Yep. Goodnight Tony," Natasha said, walking away.
Clint grinned, and bid him goodnight as well before walking towards his own quarters, following Natasha. Clint loved Natasha, and she loved him, but they had jobs which didn't allow for personal relationships, especially not with each other. So it remained strictly private, their feelings for one another.
Natasha's sleep was restless. She had nightmares like she hadn't had in years. The name Natalia Romanova ran through her dreams, accompanied by screams and cries. The sound of guns and dying children as those of her companions who couldn't keep up with her were extinguished. The torture training so they would hold up under pressure if caught. The injections, so painful and unforgiving. The man with the metal arm, teaching her how to fight and how to win.
It was terrible.
Clint, on the other hand, slept like a baby. When morning dawned he got up, brushed his teeth, got dressed, and went down for breakfast at the mess hall. He ran into Steve there.
"Morning, Steve!"
"Good morning Clint, how'd you sleep?"
"Great! You?"
"Sound enough," Steve replied, eating his bacon and eggs.
"I'll be right back."
Clint went over get his own morning meal and snuck an extra two pieces of bacon under his arm. He was pretty sure that one of the agents, Bobbi Morse of all people (his ex-girlfriend), had noticed. He gave her a pleading look and she giggled but shook her hand in dismissal. He thanked her silently and scooted past the lines into the crowd towards Steve's table.
"Who was that you were talking to," Steve asked.
"That's Agent Bobbi Morse, also known as the Mockingbird. She's a top agent like me and Natasha."
"Who's she sitting with?"
Clint turned around to see.
"Ah! Agent Sharon Carter," Clint told him, "She's a level seven agent. Up and coming, got a good all-around talent for our line of work. I have little doubt she'll make it to at least level eight soon enough."
"Learning all these Agents names most take a lot," Steve complimented him.
Clint shrugged, "I only know those two cause I've run the occasional mission with 'em."
"Ah, here comes Natasha!"