Chapter One: The Break-Up
October 12, 1995
Natasha Romanoff sighed deeply as she parked her Corvette Stingray on the street in front of the apartment she shared with her fiancé, Steve. Smiling softly as her eyes fell upon the 10-carat diamond ring that Steve had proposed to her with just a month before, she giggled happily as she remembered the day. She'd just return to the country after being abroad for three months eliminating enemies of SHIELD. Steve and a crew of SHIELD agents were having no luck locating his long-lost friend turned Hydra Agent, James Barnes. He'd phone and told her he missed her and wanted to see her. Quickly finishing off the last two bodies, she caught the first flight back to DC.
Natasha had been surprised when Steve met her at the airport. Looking back on it, she realized just how nervous he was. He took her to dinner at Minibar by Jose Andres, where they talked and enjoyed being back together again. After dessert, smiling nervously, Steve took her hand in his, caressing it softly.
"Natasha you are the most incredible woman I've ever met," he said softly staring intensely into her eyes. "One thing going into the ice has taught me is that life is too short. I went into the ice in the middle of the war, I had friends, family, a woman waiting for me."
Natasha remembered shifting uncertainly, as she swallowed nervously, unsure where he was going with it. Steve sighed. "When I came out of the ice everything was different. The war had ended, decades ago apparently, and we'd won. All my family, my friends, my howling commandos were dead. For a year everything seemed purposeless, you know."
Natasha nodded because she definitely could relate to feeling like her life was without purpose or meaning. Steve surprised her by smiling brightly.
"But then I stepped onto the helicarrier and saw you. Instantly, I was drawn to you. You were so mysterious and small, incredibly dangerous, fierce, intimidating, and deadly beautiful. You reminded me a lot of Peggy at first, but the more I got to know you, the more I realized just how different you were. I liked you more and more each day. We've spent the last five years fighting side by side, and I am quite certain that I want you to fight by my side forever.
He then dropped to his knee, pulling the box with the engagement ring from his pocket and Natasha was momentarily rendering her breathless. "I don't want to waste another moment, Natasha," he said. "I want to go forward in this new world with you by my side, always, as my partner and my wife." Natasha was engulfed with overwhelming emotions. "Natasha Romanoff, will you marry me?"
She hadn't expected it. Sure they'd slept together a few times since their first times since Steve came out of the ice in 1990, but it had always been casual. There were no titles or expectations. She loved Steve, yes. She'd fallen in love with him long before she gave her body to him, but she knew he was in love with Peggy. Natasha never dreamt he would ever love her enough to marry her. The love they made that night was indescribable.
Her hand absentmindedly traced her stomach. She loved the feel of Steve inside her. He made her feel things she never knew she could. He took her to ecstasy, there was no other word for it. She could let him take her over and over again. Which he did. Allover SHIELD, all over the helicarrier, all throughout the Triskelion. They were addicted to each other.
That was how she found herself in her current predicament. She was pregnant, nearly three months along. She shouldn't be. She'd been sterilized decades ago. It was a miracle indeed. Of course, Steve's super-soldier semen would be potent enough to impregnate her. He was probably the only one on the planet who was capable of doing so. She felt like kicking herself for never considering this possibility. She'd assured Steve the first time they'd been together that they didn't need to worry about pregnancy. She hoped he wouldn't think that she'd tried to trap him. She hadn't. This baby of theirs was truly a miracle. God, she hoped Steve would be happy. She really wanted this baby.
Deep down, Natasha had always wanted children. She'd wanted them from the moment she knew she would never have them. She grieved the loss of the children she would never have over sixty years before. She believed she would be a good mother despite never knowing her own. She had a lot of love she wanted to give, but was forbidden to. She wanted a child that she could love unconditionally. Love is for children after all.
Natasha exited her car, grabbing her carry-on as she did so.
"Hi Miss Black Widow," she heard a small voice say and looked down to see a child holding a notepad in her hand. Natasha smiled.
"Well hello cutie," she replied happily to the girl. The girl smiled brightly.
"Can I have your autograph, Black Widow" asked the girl. "I'm a big fan, and I want to be just like you when I grow up," she continued. The girl performed a jump kick in the air before throwing two fierce punches.
"See," said the girl. "I've been practicing." The little girl then did an impressive martial arts combo, flipping and rolling before drawing two plastic toy guns from toy holsters and firing in quick succession. "Well, what do you think," asked the girl proudly. "I know I'm nowhere near as good as you, but one day," she added hopefully, smiling brightly up at Natasha.
Natasha froze, her mind suddenly flooded with memories of the Red Room, with memories of little girls the same age as her fighting for their lives, performing flips and rolls identical to the one she'd just performed, only firing real guns… at real targets... drawing real blood... leaving real bodies. Plastered across her mind was all the cold, blank stares of the corpses of her peers she passed as she stalked from the room victorious, drenched in the blood of the failures. She could still hear the applause of the observers, as they cried "Молодец наталья" (Well done, Natalia) pleased that at 10 years old, she'd single-handedly murdered 12 girls in the matter of minutes. "Может быть только одна Черная Вдова," (There can only be one Black Widow) her mistress, Madame B beamed happily at her as sheexited the training room. "И это будешь ты, Наталья, потому что ты мраморная…" (And it will be you, Natalia, because you are made of marble…)
Natashascribbled her signature quickly and returned the notepad to the girl walking away without responding.
At her age I was already a monster, she thought sadly, disturbed by the fact that this innocent child wanted to be like her, an assassin. Death incarnate. The black Widow. The child was practicing her moves for Pete's sake. If only she knew how hard she'd trained to become the killer she is today; the torture she endured and afflicted... No child should ever experience that.
Seeing the little girl drawing the toy guns stirred something in Natasha. Would the child she was carrying at this moment be like that girl, seeing her as someone to admire and look up to rather than the monster that she was. She hoped not. Seeing the little girl made her realize that she did not want a daughter. She did not want a miniature version of herself. She wanted her offspring to be a good person, kind and patient. She wanted it to be a person like Steve. Not an emotionless killing machine. She hated that. She didn't want anyone to be like her. She was not someone to look up to and admire, but rather someone to stay far away from, someone to be repulsed by, and above all feared.
Entering the apartment, Natasha stumbled immediately into a box. Hitting the light switch she found several boxes packed by the door. Setting her bag down and dropping her keys on the coffee table, Natasha noticed the framed photo of Steve and herself was gone. She looked to the walls. There were no photos of them hanging. Feeling uneasy, Natasha opened a box. It was filled with her clothes. Her nerves building, she opened another. More of her things. Bolting to the bedroom she and Steve shared, she found the closets and chest of drawers bare of anything belonging to her. She checked the bathroom, everything of hers was gone, down to her toothbrush. Nausea filled her, and she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. It looked as if Steve was putting her out, but she didn't know why. What had she done? What had happened?
Homelessness would never be an issue for her. She owned thirty-two houses and apartments across the globe. She had several bank accounts in alias' names where money was not an issue either. She didn't have to work if she didn't want to, and she would still be good. She just didn't understand why.
She flushed and rinsed her mouth before exiting the bathroom. She returned to the front room, unsure of what to do.
She heard keys jingling and the lock unlocking as Steve entered. Despite the confusion she was feeling, she smiled. She was very happy to see him. She missed him so much.
"Hey handsome," she said smiling widely at him.
He glared at her. This surprised her. She'd never seen that look on him directed at her. Her nausea was returning and her apprehension was growing. What was wrong?
Steve closed and locked the door without replying, before crossing the room and entering the bathroom closing the door behind him.
Natasha sat down at the small kitchen table nervously trying to think of what she had done to upset Steve.
"We found Bucky," said Steve after returning from the bathroom. He crossed his arms across his chest, standing in front of her.
Natasha smiled with uncertainty.
"Congratulations. That's a good thing, right?"
Steve's glare returned. "Depends," he said. "Do you have anything you want to confess?"
Regarding Bucky, thought Natasha incredulously. What the hell would I have to confess?"
"No, I don't believe so," Natasha responded, wondering what the hell was going on.
"Last chance, Natasha," said Steve sternly. "Is there anything you want to tell me about your past?"
Seriously? There were lots she wanted to tell him about her past, however, none of it had anything to do with Bucky.
"No, Steve," she said. "Just tell me what is wrong. Why are you mad at me?"
Steve laughed. It was a cold and humorless laughed that unnerved Natasha.
"Why am I mad," he shouted. "Why wouldn't I be with all the fucking lies you tell, Natasha."
If nothing else told her how angry Steve was, the strong language did.
This was bad. Somehow, she'd messed up. Whatever lie she'd told Steve in the past must have finally caught up with her.
She tried recalling the lie and found she couldn't. She'd always been honest with Steve. She didn't tell him everything about her life, but she'd never outright lied to him, at least not purposely.
"I'm not sure what I've lied about," she said quietly, staring into his eyes.
Steve scoffed. "That many lies, huh," he said angrily.
"No, Steve," said Natasha horrified.
"Let's just start from the beginning," he said. "With something simple, something like your name and age."
Oh, thought Natasha. Is that what this is about? She actually felt relief.
Clearing her throat she began, "As I'm assuming you already know," she said standing and heading to the fridge for a bottle of water. "I was born Natalia Alianovna Romanova-"
Steve was taken aback by the deep Russian accent in which she spoke her name. She closed the refrigerator and returned to Steve, water in hand.
"On November 22, 1928, making me 66 years old. I will be turning 67 next month."
"Why aren't you aging?" he demanded hotly.
She sighed. "I was injected with a serum similar to yours as a teenager. Aside from healing properties, strength, stamina, dexterity and agility increases, it significantly reduces my aging. I do age, just slowly, otherwise, I'd still look like a teenager."
Steve glared. "Why haven't you informed SHIELD about this?" he demanded accusingly.
"I checked into your records," he declared. "SHIELD has no knowledge of that information. According to your files, you were born on November 22, 1966, making you 28 not 66, as Natasha Anastasia Romanoff. You lied to SHIELD," he continued hotly. "Legally, you're not even an employee here."
He glared at her for an explanation.
Patiently, Natasha explains, not believing Steve was this angry over something so small.
"Well, I guess I should consider it a compliment that you believe me capable of pulling a fast one on SHIELD," she began. "But that's not the case. I have been a SHIELD employee since 1967, making this my 28th year, I guess as long as I've been alive, according to my files."
She raised an eyebrow at him, begging him to contradict her.
Steve's surprise was palpable. She nearly rolled her eyes. "Never forget that I am a government spy and trained assassin, Steve," she said. "It would be a security risk for SHIELD to have my true files so easily accessible for anyone's perusal." She smirked at the dumbfounded expression he was wearing.
"When did you first meet Bucky, ?" He shot at her, clearly determined to catch her in a lie.
Natasha's brows furrowed. "Ten years ago. I already told you that; it was when I was protecting the scientist."
Did I meet him before that? She wondered.
"You see now," said Steve happily. "That's a lie."
Natasha didn't respond immediately.
"Well I don't remember meeting him any other time," she said.
"Bullshit," Steve spat harshly.
"Steve I don't re-" she stopped as Steve suddenly stalked into the bedroom returning a moment later with an ancient and worn brown folder. He slammed it on the table.
Natasha's eyes widened as she read КРАСНАЯ КОМНАТА ЗАКЛЮЧЕННЫЙ - Наталья Романова - Операции Черной Вдовы (RED ROOM PRISONER -Natalia Romanova - Black Widow Operation)
She gasped. It was her missing Red Room files. "Where did you get this?"
Steve neglected to answer, but instead pulled an old photograph from the file, slamming it down.
Natasha picked up the black and white photograph. It was of a young boy, no more than 7 or 8 in age.
Aside from the fact that the child slightly resembled her, Natasha couldn't think of a reason his photograph was in her file. She turned it over. (Son of Black Widow), 1976 was written in fading blue ink. She was so confused. That couldn't be right.
"Who is this," she asked, turning the photo back to the boy.
Steve stared angrily.
"Who is this boy, Steve," she repeated. "And how on earth did you get these files?"
She opened it to the first page and was greeted by a headshot of herself from the Red Room. It'd been taken after the serum she immediately noticed. Черная вдова (Black Widow) was written beneath her photo in the same fading blue ink.
She turned the page and found an even older black and white photo of two little girls. Turning it over it read:
Наталья и Надя Романовы; (Natalia and Nadia Romanova) возрас месяцев соответственно. (Age 4 and 9 months, respectively) Осиротел.(orphaned) Родители умерли или неизвестны. (Parents deceased or unknown) Спасен Иваном Петровичем из горящего дома и передан Красной Комнате 12 декабря 1932 года. (Rescued by Ivan Petrovich from a burning house and donated to the Red Room on December 12, 1932)
She felt a pang in her heart reading 'parents deceased or unknown'.
Bitterly, she flipped the photo staring instead at the nearly 4-year-old memory of herself holding a sister she never knew she had.
"Nadia Romanova," she murmured to herself. "I didn't even know I had a sister," she said sadly, wondering what became of her as she looked up at Steve.
"James Barnes," Steve said suddenly.
"Excuse me?"
"I got these files from James Barnes."
"Bucky? Your friend?," asked Natasha, more confused now than ever. "I don't understand. How did he get the missing files on me from the Red Room?"
At this point, Steve is telling himself that Natasha is being a master spy, a skilled liar, an outstanding actress. Angrily he asks "You're still going to play this role, that you don't know Bucky."
"I don't know Buck-"
"Then how do you explain him," yelled Steve, pointing at the photo of Peter.
"I don't even know who he is," Natasha yelled back, growing angry out of frustration.
"HE'S YOUR SON," screamed Steve. "He's your son, how can you not know who he is?"
Natasha's breath caught in her lungs, the words your son ringingin her head. Suddenly one of her constant nightmares resurfaced yet again, to the forefront of her mind.
Blinding light. Excruciating pain. Screams. "Нет, Солдат, не надо. Пожалуйста остановись.". (No, Soldier, don't. Please stop.) More screams. More pain. The Soldier on top of her; inside her. Darkness. White Light. Pain. A screaming baby latching onto her bare breast. Then nothing. Like every other time she'd had this nightmare.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Это был просто кошмар. Этого не может быть. Я не могу иметь детей." (It was just a nightmare. It can't be. I can't have children.)
She was still shaking her head in denial as she reached for the photo of the boy, staring hard at it.
"I don't speak Russian," began Steve. "But even I know you're denying it."
He scoffed. "Bucky is in no such state of denial, however," he continued. "He was very adamant that you'd given birth to his child, his son."
"Это невозможно," (It's impossible) continued Natasha in Russian. "I've never been with him. Я ни разу," (I never) she stopped as memories flooded her of The Soldier. She tried so hard to forget him, but he continued to haunt her dreams. The Soldier came into her cell, forcing himself upon her after brutally beating her.
She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the memories.
"Солдат меня изнасиловал,"(The Soldier raped me) she croaked out as the tears she'd tried so hard not to shed fell rapidly. "Несколько раз." (Repeatedly)
Steve, not understanding what she'd just confessed shook his head angrily.
"How could you hide something like this, Natasha. The fact that you're someone's mother. You have a child, a son, somewhere out there, don't you care about him at all."
Natasha felt herself shutting down, closing in on herself as she stared down at the child. The child that was apparently hers. The child she never knew she had. Her heart ached.
"Bucky thought that maybe you and his son were reunited," he continued. But Natasha stopped listening. She pulled a third black and white photo from her file. Shuddering, as fear engulfed her by just seeing him. There he was. The Soldier. His hair was dark, wild, tangled and long. A lot longer than it had been earlier this year or 5 years before. It nearly covered his entire face. This was who she knew. This was how she always remembered him. There was no way she could have known that The Soldier and the Winter Soldier were in fact the same man or that either of them was James Barnes. Not only was his hair different, she couldn't recall The Soldier ever having a metal arm.
So, she finally had a name for the man who'd raped her more than once. James Barnes. James Bucky Barnes, Steve's best friend was The Soldier. The Soldier was Bucky Barnes, the war hero. Her hands began to tremble as the full comprehension of who The Soldier, (the only name she'd ever known for him), was. Steve failed to notice the state of distress she was in. The Soldier, James Barnes, Steve's presumed dead best friend began raping her when she'd only been 12.
Feeling even sicker after forcing herself to accept the truth, that The Soldier, the Winter Soldier, the only person she was terrified of; was James Barnes, the war hero. She'd gotten pregnant and gave birth to his son, without knowing.
No, she correctedherself. Without remembering. How many times have they erased my memories? Shethought. What else don't I know about my life?"
Feeling dizzy and unbalanced as the unforgivable truth settled in, she became aware that Steve was still talking angrily at her, yelling at her. Why is he so mad at me? Steve was still calling her a no-good liar, yelling what kind of woman abandons her child? How could she not tell anyone- not tell him about her child. The son she'd had with Bucky.
"You had Bucky's son." He glared accusingly.
She wants him to stop saying that. Every time she heard it, she felt the bile rise to her throat again. Her head pounded tremendously. Suddenly, she felt exhausted, and incredibly drained. She just wanted Steve to pull her in his long strong arms, and hold her tight, comforting her that The Soldier, James Barnes, would never hurt her again, never take her body for his own again, never attempt to kill her again. She wanted him to kiss her passionately and tell her how happy he was that she was carrying his child, and how, together, they would locate this unknown son of hers and the four of them would be a family. Then she wanted him to carry her to their bedroom and make love to her until all thoughts of the Red Room, and The Soldier, was driven from her mind as he drove her over the edge of paradise, before erupting deep inside her, filling her with his thick hot release. They would then fall asleep entwined like they had countless times before.
"Steve, I'm pregnant." Even to her ears, her voice sounded detached and foreign. Emotionless. She couldn't believe her voice held so little emotion when she felt as if she was feeling every emotion in the world at once. She prayed her face didn't look as emotionless as her voice sounded. She wanted Steve to see what she was feeling on her face; for him to hear the pain she was enduring in her voice.
"That's it," screamed Steve angrily as he punched a hole in the wall behind him, honestly scaring Natasha.
"It's over, Natasha. I packed all your things, get out of my apartment."
Fear coursing through her veins at the thought of losing Steve, her head already frantically shaking no, Natasha stammers. "N-no please don't do this Steve, I love you. I only love you."
If he'd been thinking clearly, Steve would have realized that this was the first time Natasha told him she loved him.
"I don't even know who you are," he hurled. His words hurt, even though she knew they were true. How could he know her when she obviously didn't know herself. Still, she loved this man. Loved him with every fiber of her being. He was the only man she'd ever wanted and now that she'd had him, she couldn't let go.
"I'm Natasha, Steve, your fiancé. I'm the same woman that you've been sleeping with for the last few years. I'm your partner. I need you. Please don't do this," she was fully aware that she was begging now, and she couldn't find it in her to care. She loved Steve more than she loved herself. she could not live without him. She hadn't realized that she'd reached out for him until she felt him push her away. Her heart was breaking; her face crumbling with her tears falling.
"Why Steve," she asked her voice broken and weak.
"Why, because you had a baby with my best friend, my brother, Natasha." he made a disgusted face at her that pierced her heart.
"That's disgusting to me. It's disgusting for me to think that every time I penetrated you, you were already claimed by him. I put my mouth on you Natasha, my tongue inside your vagina, where Bucky's come once filled you. You gave birth to his son, his only child. I can never be with you, not after you carried another man's child."
"But I'm carrying your child, Steve."
Seizing her violently by the arms, Steve lifted Natasha a few inches from the ground before slamming her back hard against the opposite wall, breaking it, before literally shoving her towards the door. She could have killed him a thousand times in a thousand ways, but the thought never crossed her mind. To kill him would be like killing herself. Subconsciously she protected her stomach from danger, something Steve hardly noticed at the moment but would think about for many hours in the future, how she instinctively protected her unborn child.
"Stop lying to me. I know you can't have kids, Natasha," Steve said in a low menacing growl as he yanked her by the front of her shirt, jerking her like a rag doll. Natasha's hand never left her stomach even as her eyes widened in fear as her body lurched effortlessly at his tug. "Which was something you should have told me when I proposed, by the way," his eyes showed none of the love it once displayed. They were hard, cold and flashing with danger. The hatred he felt for her, were as easy for her to read as if they were an open book. Seeing his hatred reflected so clearly in his eyes tore at her heart like nothing else did. It made clear without a doubt, that they were truly over; that Steve didn't love her anymore.
"Bucky told me they sterilized you a year after your son was born," Steve declared before pushing Natasha out of the front door.
"I'll have your things delivered to the tower," he said solemnly, ignoring the tears falling rapidly down Natasha's face. "Don't ever come back to my place Nat. I never want to speak to you outside of work again."
Natasha openly cries now in disbelief. "What about our baby?" It was her last hope at persuading him. Surely he wouldn't abandon his child. Surely he would try to work it out with her for the sake of the baby. They'd have to be at least amicable with each other to co-parent. Perhaps in a few years, he'd see how much she still loved him, and they could be a family.
"I never discussed having kids with you because I don't want kids. This world is too messed up to raise a child in, and I must always be ready for war." he glared at her like it was her fault alone that she was carrying his child. "Get rid of it," he ordered, his tone rang out in absolute authority and finality, hammering the nail in her coffin. "And never speak to me again," Another nail. "Never speak of it again." Another nail. He handed her the Red Room Prisoner file, the photograph of the unknown boy on top. "It shouldn't be hard," continued Steve. "You've never spoken of him." Natasha nodded, silently crying, knowing there was nothing she could do to change his mind.
"What we had is over," continued Steve, hammering unnecessary nails in her coffin. "It never should have been at all." another nail. "I'll always love Peggy," Another nail. "And you were just a beautiful willing woman," he spat. Two nails. Numbly, she watched him pull out his wallet and count out twenty, one hundred dollar bills. "I heard you can get it taken care of for $500," he said. "That is, if you're really pregnant, which I know you aren't." He handed the money to her. "You can consider the rest payment and call it even."
"Payment for what," she asked, in her dead monotone, not taking the money.
Steve smirks an evil sinister smirk. It was an ugly look on his beautiful face, one that would always be burned into her mind.
"Your services, five years worth," he sneered, the sinister grin more pronounced.
That did it for her. Heart broken, Natasha was removing the engagement ring before she even realized what she was doing. She shoved it in his hands as quickly as she could while being blinded by her tears.
Croaking out, "Goodbye Steve," she turned and practically ran away, leaving him with the ring as well as the abortion money. She didn't need it, she was not going to kill her child.
Steve watched her go, ignoring the unsettling feeling sinking in the pit of his stomach.