A/N: Welcome back to another installment! THis one deals with Nat returning to the Red Room for a mission as teased in the previous oneshot. There's probably a warning in order for some violence at the end, though nothing too graphical. But as Natasha said last time, it was not pretty.

MaRiA.Z.A: Well, here is the first one and the second one with Bucky will come eventually, too. Thank you very much! I like her as a character and I like the depth of her, especially all the possibilities she offers one as an author.

WidowInBlack: Why, thank you very much! It took me some time to fulfill your prompt, but I really wanted to to it right. So I'm really happy you like it that much.

Invader Johnny: Sadly, yes. And I guess no one knows that better than Natasha herself.

Title: Disease (#79)

Characters: Natasha, Clint, feat. Coulson, Madame B.

Word count: ~2570

„Any questions, agents?" Coulson looked at both Clint and Natasha, while giving the latter a more pointed look.

Clint shortly gazed to his right at the redhead who hadn't reacted in a single way to the mission parameters before he turned his attention back to his handler. "Phil, do you think it a good idea? She only left Russia a few months before and-"

"It's fine." Natasha cut his word in a voice that was snow cold.

"As I said, Director Fury personally requested the two of you. Agent Romanoff knows the building and we would be stupid not using this advantage," Coulson explained as if he hadn't heard Natasha. "It's a quick job of going in, collecting as much data as possible and going out again. We finally have the coordinates of the facility and we need to go there as long as they're still there."

"But she's-"

"Barton! I said I'm fine with this mission," Natasha cut in more sharply this time. She appreciated him looking out for her but it still was something very new and right now it hindered the mission. She understood why Fury wanted her to go in; frankly, she would have doubted his sanity if he's sent anyone else. Natasha turned to Coulson, her expression still stoic. "When do we leave?"

"One hour," Coulson answered, seemingly glad she dealt with this in a rather uncomplicated way. "Pack for roughly a week, but we'll extract you sooner should you be done. As I said, collect as much info as you can get. We need to know everything: further facilities, the head behind all of this, maybe even names of instructors and former surviving girls of the program." His gaze grew sterner as he looked at Natasha. "The main goal, though, is you two returning. Alive, that is. Although we could need this information, to me it is more important that you return in one piece. Understood. Good. Then I'll see in in the hangar in one hour."

Natasha stood up and left the room, Clint right at her heels. "Natasha. Natasha! Nat!" He grabbed her arm when she wouldn't stop and forced her to. "Look, I understand if you don't wanna go back there. There are other teams they can send in. But if you're really sure you can deal with that then I just want you to know I've got your back. Alright?"

"Barton, if you ask me one more time whether I can deal with that I'll shove your arrows up your ass." Natasha didn't grow loud but her quiet, calm voice made her sound that more dangerous. "I didn't plan on ever going back there but if I can help bring this whole shit down then I will do so. See you at the jet." She wrested herself free and strutted down the corridor to the elevator which would took her to her quarters. Only after she closed the apartment's door behind her did the shaking take over her body. It hadn't been a lie that she never wanted to return to the Red Room. Memories of her lessons flooded her. The snapping sound of a neck breaking beneath her fingers. The vibrations of a gun being fired, too big for her small hands. The water turning red while she tried to wash the blood out of her dancing shoes. Natasha's hands gripped the doorframe, feeling the smooth wood and anchoring her in the present. She would go there, do her job and leave. Abd maybe she could help bring down the organisation that had robbed her of her childhood.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The silence during the flight hadn't been comforting but rather strained. It hung between the two of them like a wall, neither wanted to talk about the discussion they had after briefing. With parachutes, they jumped out of the jet in the middle of the Siberian nowhere. Clint wrapped his scarf more tightly around the lower half of his face. "I really don't wanna spend here any time more than we have to," he said, his voice muffled by the cloth while he tinkered with their GPS device. Natasha shouldered her bag and kept track of their surroundings. Although they were flown in in stealth mode she rather didn't trust in SHIELD's technology. Finally, the device got a signal and Clint led the two of them further north. They walked in silence, eager to set up their tent before sunset, before it would grow even colder.

They reached a hill when Natasha suddenly stopped. Clint noticed a few steps later. "What's wrong?"

Natasha nodded in direction of the hill. "It's behind there. I remember this place." As if something forced her, she turned around to the left. There somewhere was Arina's body, frozen to stone or only a heap of bones by now if the wolves had found her. Somehow, Natasha wanted both: to know and not to know for certain.

Clint looked at her for a moment, worry clear on the part of his face that wasn't covered. "Then we should set up here. Or is there a better place?"

"No," Natasha answered, his voice bringing her mind back to her body. "That's as good a spot as anywhere. But we should be careful. If it's still like back then, people could come around here. Though it's not cold enough for survival exercises."

"Not cold enough?" Clint muttered under his breath. "I think it's very cold. Cold enough to lose a finger or two."

Together they started to set up the tent, part of SHIELD's newest technology. Natasha could only hope it would keep them as warm as R&D had promised them. "I make a quick perimeter check. You know I can't cook," Natasha offered with a shrug, nodding towards the cans they had brought with them.

Clint smiled crookedly, recognizing her offering of a banter as a peace offering. "If I'd died because of food poisoning in the Siberian cold, you'd never let me live that down. But if you're not back in not later than thirty minutes, I'll come out and drag you in myself. Even if it means the food is scorched."

Natasha answered with only a roll of her eyes and made sure to close the tent's flap securely so the cold wouldn't get in. She pulled the hood of her coat over her head and felt for the guns trapped to her legs and hidden in her pockets. Slowly and carefully she made her way up the hill, her attention divided between the tricky ground beneath her feet and her surroundings. She didn't want to be caught by surprise, not by anyone who was related to the Red Room. Reaching the hill comb she laid down on her belly and held the little spy glass in front of her eyes. Suddenly the facility was disturbingly close but Natasha forced herself to keep looking. There were lights in some rooms but no sentinels to be seen. Maybe they had upgraded their tech, not needing human sentinels anymore. Still, they'd better be careful.

Quietly Natasha made her way back to the tent and slipped inside, pulling the zipper shut again. Almost forcefully she ripped the gloves from her hands and held them over the little camping stove. "No guards," she finally reported curtly.

Clint frowned in thought. "Any dogs?"

"No. Maybe there are some in the facility but I doubt they will be trained guard dogs."

"Good," Clint sighed. "I hate shooting dogs.

Natasha offered a short nod. "Me too."

Clint divided the canned soup up he had been heating and gave Natasha her share. "Anything else I should know before we go in there?"

Natasha took a sip in quiet. "There'll be mostly women, but don't underestimate them. They all have weapons on them. And if a girl jumps at you, better kill her immediately; you might not get a second chance."

Clint nodded, trusting her judgement. If they all where only half as good as her, he could count himself lucky should he survive. He placed a plan of the facility between the two of them, most information to be able to draw it stemming from Natasha. "Let's get over the plan again, alright?"

~#~#~#~#~#~

Natasha robbed through the vents, one ear directed at her surroundings. She tried to ignore the nervous knot in her stomach. It had been too easy so far. The Red Room she knew would have never allowed them to come that far. Sure, there had been the obligatory guard but none of those had proven a real challenge. Even the grand ballet room had been deserted although at that time there should a lesson take place.

"Romanoff, your status?" Clint's voice in her ear brought her back to the present.

Stupid mistake, getting herself distracted. "On my way to the server room," she answered quietly. "What about you? Any difficulties?"

"No, not even one of those killer kids you talked about. It's too quiet for my taste."

Yeah, that brought it pretty good in a nutshell. "Some more time to gather information would have been good."

Clint scoffed. "Tell me about it. Coulson thought we wouldn't have enough time for it but as it seems the building's already empty."

By the time he was done complaining, Natasha had reached the right grid and carefully loosened it out of its holding, before lowering herself down. "I'm in."

"Yes, that I can see, Natalia."

At the sound of the familiar voice Natasha felt her body go rigid. Never in her life had she wanted to hear that again. She whirled around, her gun faster out of the holster than ever before and pointing straight to the woman sitting at one of the computers.

"You wouldn't want to shoot a defenceless old woman, would you?" Madame B. asked smoothly.

Natasha unlocked the safety catch on her weapon. "You taught me to eliminate everyone in my way. Step aside and I won't have to kill you."

"Natasha? Who's there with you?" Clint sounded worried and she could hear him speeding up. "I'm on my way to-"

The redhead took the little communication device out of her ear and let it fall to the fall, the hand holding her gun never wavering.

Madame B. shook her head smiling. "Maybe it's better the KGB got rid of its most unstable asset. You always were bull-headed, Natalia. It was hard work forming you."

The sound of a bullet being fired echoed through the room and blood started to blossom on the right arm of Madame B. which had twitched in direction of the mouse. "Don't call me Natalia. She died."

"Is that so? And for whom are you working now so that rebirth would be justified?"

"Not your concern." Another shot ringed and only now did the older woman groan from the pain. "Where is everyone?"

Madame B. chuckled mirthlessly. "Not here."

Another shot. "Why did you stay behind? Why not one of the other instructors?" Natasha's face was a mask, pale due to the anger raging within her. It would be so easy to let the other woman pay. But Coulson had made it clear that they needed every information possible and if someone could tell SHIELD what they needed to know it was her. And still…

"Oh, you remember your old teachers? They were heartbroken when you left us so suddenly. Dr Petrov had your favourite device prepared for your return. And if you weren't so clouded by your righteousness you would know you already have all the information you need to know what's going on here."

"I bet he had," Natasha spit out, firing another shot and aiming for the kneecap this time. A sickening crunch was to be heard. "You're here to delete every information concerning the Red Room and its connection to the KGB. It is you who's doing this because they wouldn't trust anyone else with this. You're probably the one to keep every secret close to her chest, even under torture."

"Good, Natalia. You haven't forgotten everything we've taught you." Madame B. smiled proudly. "You are very similar to your mother. She was just as stubborn as you."

Natasha kept aiming at her former instructor, firing another bullet at her arm. Some blood loss wouldn't kill her but make it actually easier for her and Clint to get her into the jet and bring her to Fury and Coulson. It took Natasha two minutes until all of Madame B.'s words had gotten through to her. Her mother? "What do you know about my mother?" Now her hand did shake a little.

Madame B. only smiled at her. "Too bad every file dealing with you is already deleted."

"I'll make you talk." Natasha threw away her emptied gun and pulled out the knife she had been hiding in her boot, approaching Madame B. quickly.

"You think I would be the one cleaning up if I would talk?" she spat, taking in Natasha's appearance. "What have you become? Our greatest creation and all thrown out of the window. Do you think your hands will ever not be dripping red? Do you honestly believe you deserve redemption?"

No. That question was far too easy to answer for Natasha. She held the knife close to the woman's neck and didn't even twitch when Clint came bursting through the door. "Everything alright with you?" he called, his eyes trained on Madame B.

She in turn seized him up. "The Hawk. You're working for the Americans now, huh? I hadn't expected you to fall so deep, Natalia. Too bad the patrons won't learn that. But I am most sure they will sooner or later. And then you won't be able to hide anymore." Suddenly she move to the left, to Natasha and into the knife.

"No!" Clint jumped forward and tried to stop the bleeding but Natasha knew it was for nothing. All the intel on the Red Room, gone. Just like that. As was every information on her mother. Disgusted Clint tried to clean his hands on the clothes of the dead woman. Only then he noted the bullet holes in the woman's clothes. "A wonder she was still alive."

"Keeping her alive was the plan," Natasha retorted, pulling the knife out of B.'s neck. "I didn't plan on killing her."

"Not now, at least. Right?" Clint sighed and moved his fingers through his hair. "Look, I understand. I do. And I know it's improvement for you to not having her killed instantly. But we shouldn't tell Coulson that part. If word goes out at the agency, I doubt it will improve the trust the other agents have in you."

"I don't want their trust. I don't trust them."

"What did she tell you while I tried to get through to you?"

Natasha was quiet for a moment, watching the lifeless body of the woman that had betrayed her for her childhood. "She mentioned my mother. To get me angry, I suppose. No information left."

Clint carefully touched her like he would approach a wounded animal. "I'm sorry."

"She's dead now. She won't hurt me anymore." With that, Natasha turned around and left the server room. Followed the corridors she knew like the back of her hand. Passing ballet rooms and others where she had been formed to the woman she was now, all the while a firm thought dominating her mind: she would never return again in this life. Never.

2. A/N: Well, what do you think? I know Natasha said she'll never return, but I wondered whether she would go there with Steve some day in the far future. What would you think of it?