Chapter 13.

The quiet of the afternoon was broken by the pitter-patter of little feet, and the barely suppressed giggle of a little girl. Natasha scampered into the kitchen where her mother and grandmother were enjoying tea and conversation. In the background they could hear Micheal counting, and were able to surmise that that the two were playing hide-and-go-seek.

'Don't tell grandpa where I am,' Natasha staged-whispered to the older females before taking her hiding spot under the kitchen table.

Nearly 30 seconds later the counting stopped, and was followed by heavier footfalls making their way into the kitchen.

'Now where is my little Nattie?' Micheal wondered aloud as he made his way around the room. Natasha's hiding spot wasn't particularly good, he could see her plain as day as he entered the room, but he played along for the sake of the little girl.

The two woman watched in amusement as he deliberately walked past the kitchen table, and instead went over to the counter.

'Nattie is such a teeny-tiny little girl, I bet she could be anywhere,' Micheal mused. 'Why, she could be in this cookie jar.'

He picked up the container, and made a show of looking inside, shifting it left and right, and up and down, as if the redhead could possibly be hiding in some dark nook. Natasha covered her mouth but she couldn't fully contain her laughter as she watched her grandfather pick up plates and spoons to look meticulously under them, and she nearly fell over when he started to pick through her mother's hair.

Finally he let out a sigh of false resignation. He knew right where she was, especially since she was practically poking her head out from under the table. Natasha stared wide-eyed as he walked by her spot only to shriek when he turned suddenly, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled into a rough bear hug. The embrace quickly turned into a tickling session where Micheal nuzzled the little girl's cheeks leaving them red from his stubble.

'I don't think Nattie quite understands the concept of hide-and-go-seek,' the older woman said to her daughter.

'I understand,' Natasha replied instead. She was breathless, and her cheeks were bright red as she and her grandfather took a seat at the table. 'Me and Uncle Gabe, and Uncle Dum-Dum play all the time and they can never find me. But Uncle Dum-Dum said that you're very, very, very old, and that I need to be careful so I don't accidentally hurt you.'

'Is that so?' Micheal deadpanned. He leveled a look to his daughter who merely shrugged sheepishly.

'He was trying to explain what grandparents were to Natasha.' Peggy said. 'I think he was having a little fun by exaggerating your ages.'

The older man narrowed his eyes slightly. 'How old does she think we are?'

'Well . . . '

'Grandpa, did you really have a pet dinosaur? Was it the big one with the little tiny arms? I don't think I'd like one of those because their poop would be really humungous, and it'd be really smelly, and all the neighbors would complain, and then they would call the cops, and the cops would come and try to arrest you, but they wouldn't be able to because the smell would be so bad they would have to hold their noses with one hand, and you can't arrest someone with one hand.'

The three adults with various degrees of success did their best to stifle their laugh.

'No, sweetie, I didn't have one of those,' Micheal said.

'How about a flying dinosaur? That would be super neat. If I had one of those then I could fly here whenever I wanted, and I wouldn't have to wait for Uncle Howard.'

'I'm afraid I didn't have one of those either.'

'Did you have a teeny-tiny one you could cuddle with?'

'I'm afraid that I'm not as old as your uncle thinks I am,' Micheal said with a chuckle. He was doing a lot better than his wife and daughter at keeping his composure as the two women were hiding their laughter behind their mugs of tea. 'All the dinosaurs were extinct when I was your age.'

'Aw, that's too bad. How about you grandma? Did you have a pet dinosaur?'

Quickly regaining her composure when Natasha's attention fell on her, Helen shook her head ruefully. 'No sweetie, I didn't.'

'If you want I'll give Dum-Dum a good smack for you,' Peggy offered.

'Nah,' her father said. 'He was just being silly, wasn't he Nattie?'

'Uncle Dum-Dum says silly things all the time. Mommy is always telling him to stop talking, but he just laughs and keeps saying more silly things,' Natasha said before lowering her voice like she was trying, and failing, to tell the older man a secret. 'I think he does it on purpose.'

'Really?' Micheal said, his voice lowered to match hers. Over the little redhead's head he glanced at his daughter who was rolling her eyes slightly, before taking a sip from her teacup.

Natasha gave him a solemn-eyed nod. 'But don't tell her that.'

'Oh, I promise, I won't say a word to her.' Micheal said. His expression was completely serious but it soon dissolved into a wide smile. 'You are just too cute Nattie. I must tickle your little tummy.'

'Not at the table you won't.' Helen said. 'The three of you go to the living-room so I can get dinner started.'

'Oh, can I help, grandma?' Natasha asked. 'Can I please?'

'I would love to have help, but first you have to wash your hands, and then you can knead the dough for rolls.'

While Peggy and Micheal vacated the kitchen, Helen lifted her granddaughter up to use the sink before placing her on a chair where she could reach the table. The older woman measured the ingredients in a large glass bowl before sliding over to her little helper. The little girl didn't need prompting or instructions as she dipped her hands into the bowl and began kneading the bread dough like she had done it a 100 times before.

'Grandma,' Natasha said after a few moments. 'Are you and grandpa mad at mommy for taking me home?'

The older woman turned her attention to the girl. Her hands, covered in flour, were still as she stared up at her grandmother with wide green eyes.

'Nattie, why would you think a thing like that?'

'Mommy was nervous before we got here, and she wouldn't tell me why. I thought maybe she did something wrong by being my mommy.'

'Oh Nattie,' Helen said. She gathered the little girl into arms not caring about flour on her apron, and held her close and tight. 'We are very happy to have you in this family. And your grandfather and I love you as much as your mother does.'

'That much?' Natasha asked slightly awed as she pulled away slightly. Peggy told her daughter that she loved her from the moon and back.

'Yes, that much. Your mother was just being a nervous Nellie.'

The little girl's shoulders slumped in relief. She hadn't wanted for her mother to get in trouble because of her.

'Besides if I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have made you presents.'

'You made me presents?! I made you presents too!'

'Well after dinner and desert we'll go into the living room, and open them, okay?' Helen said with a laugh.

Natasha nodded happily, and went back to her chore with much more vigor than before. The older woman watched and wondered. According to Peggy, this small child was as strong and quick as a junior flyweight boxer, and was reading and writing like someone twice her age.

It really was a good thing the SSR had found her, who knew what the Russians would have done to her had they managed to keep her. They seemed to have no regard for any child's life, and there was no reason for Helen to believe that they would have treated Natasha as anymore than a living weapon. At least now with Margret as her mother, and surrounded by her and her grandfather, and her aunts and uncles, she had a chance to grow up in a loving, albeit unconventional family.

'All right sweetie, I think you kneaded it enough,' Helen said. She upturned the bowl and proceed to divvy the lump of dough into even portions. Once again without waiting for instructions, Natasha took the portions and began to roll them into perfectly round balls.

'I take it you've done this before?'

'I help the cook all the time,' Natasha said with pride. 'She says I'm her favorite helper.'

'I'm sure you are,' Helen said amused as she started on the rest of dinner. 'But it must be awfully boring at the base. What do you do there?'

'Lots of things,' Natasha said with a small shrug. 'I do morning exercises with my uncles, and I have my own desk just like mommy, and I draw pictures and read books there. And sometimes I listen to the radio. I like "Captain America's Adventure Time" but I don't think mommy does. She keeps yelling at Aunt Gail to turn that crap off. And then she gets a grouchy look on her face, and Aunt Gail thinks it's funny so she turns the radio up.'

Helen couldn't help but laugh, she remembered getting a letter telling in great detail, and with much vitriol why Betty Carver was an insult to her, and every woman who served in the war.

'What else do you do?'

'Um, well Uncle James teaches me and mommy how to fight. And Aunt Gail is teaching me how to use a bow and arrow.'

'Why a bow and arrow?' Helen asked with a confused shake of her head.

Natasha shrugged. 'I don't know. All I know is that she's really, really, really good.'

'Don't you go outside and play?' the older woman asked. Once Natasha was done, Helen took the pan of rolls, and put them in the oven before returning her attention to her granddaughter.

'Of course I do. Sometimes me and mommy go to the lake, and I chase the frogs, and sometimes I find a pretty rock to take home, and one time I found an arrowhead, and mommy said that it was hundreds of years old. And sometimes Aunt Gail comes with us, and she brings a bottle of schnapps with her. But they won't let me have any because they say I'm too young. And sometimes the cook brings her little boy over, and we play. But I have to be very careful because he's smaller than me, and not as strong.'

Helen chuckled. She had been worried that a small child would be bored or in the way, but it looked like Natasha had plenty to do, and plenty of people taking an interest in her well being.

But still a bow and arrow? Nobody in their right mind would ever bring that onto a battlefield.

Author's note: So Gail likes the color purple and archery, whose grandmother could I possibly be setting her up to be? ;)