Fandom: Avengers

Character(s): Black Widow/Natasha R. | Winter Soldier/Bucky B. | Iron Man/Tony S. | Spider-Man/Peter P.

Pairing(s): Tony/Pepper, mentions of past Natasha/Bucky

Warning(s): AU, mature themes, mild language, violence, dark imagery, brief references to abortion, potential spoilers through Black Widow

Yelena was already warming up when Natalia stepped into the sparring room. "You're late." The young widow-in-training remarked, throwing her left leg up into a picture-perfect arabesque. "Wild night?"

That was one of the things Natalia both enjoyed and distrusted about Yelena. The younger girl was frank and, at times, brutally blunt - a refreshing change from the snide, smooth, insinuating-but-never-outright-saying manner that was favored by most Red Room operatives (including Natalia herself). But a small part of Natalia's mind always wondered if Yelena's manner wasn't more calculated than it seemed. Her abruptness seemed more open and less subtle, but it could be just a ploy to catch everyone off-guard.

Some students would take such tacks, trying to distinguish themselves; to stand out among the crowd.

Stepping up to the barre and taking a deep breath, Natalia started going through her own warm-ups. Stretch the spine. Stretch the back. Stretch the quads. Stretch the calves. Split. Pinwheel. Stretch the arms. Demi-plié, demi-plié, pas de couru, dégagé - the well-trod routine was like an old, comforting cardigan, the steps so engraved into Natalia's mind and body that she could almost do them in a kind of trance. Dégagé, dégagé, pas de chat, plié...

Natalia had been training Yelena on-and-off for nearly six months. It was her duty, as a graduate, to help the Red Room educate and refine the next wave of assets...and she appreciated the chance to keep her skills sharp in between missions.

The two girls squared off on the mat, eyes locked, bodies poised, testing one another's will and intentions. Breathing lightly and balanced on the balls of her feet, Natalia waited for Yelena to make the first move. Yelena was good; but she was still too inexperienced to not go for first blood.

Strong hands reached for Natalia's throat as Yelena sprang into action. Natalia set her teeth and twisted out of the way, landing a sharp blow against Yelena's collarbone and hooking her leg around the younger girl's ankle, bringing them both crashing to the mat. The force of the move flipped them both head over heels, Natalia landing solidly on top, pinning Yelena beneath her weight.

Yelena struggled, gasping for breath, then - in a neat move that threw Natalia completely off-balance - managed to launch herself out of the hold and back to her feet.

Natalia jumped up to meet her.

All was a blur of fists and feet, dodges and strikes for a while. Then, with a lightning-fast leap, both of Yelena's feet snapped forward in a double kick, aimed straight towards Natalia's midsection in a move meant to topple and bruise and - just as quickly - Natalia responded. Only, instead of twisting to the side and catching Yelena's legs to ground the younger girl, suddenly the Black Widow suddenly found herself leaping back, ducking into a defensive tuck-and-roll before springing back to her feet with a gasp, one hand coming up to protectively curl around her middle.

It was very uncharacteristic. Black Widows were trained to always (always!) be on the offensive; to use their opponents' bodies against them; to exploit ticks, patterns, and the environment to strike back harder, faster, smarter. They were not trained to curl into a ball or unnecessarily disengage from a fight.

And, for a moment, both girls just stood and stared at each other - Yelena in confusion, Natalia in startled, horrified, utter dismay.

What was she thinking?!

(She forced both hands to drop by her side.)

It had been an instinctual move (drawn from some deep and primal part of Natalia's soul that she hadn't even known existed before this moment in time), but it was too obvious. If she had seen someone react like that in the field, she would already be holding her knife against their belly to encourage their cooperation.

And she would be lucky now if Yelena didn't grow suspicious.

She would be even more lucky if none of the onlookers put the pieces together...

No.

They must not suspect.

She must say something; reclaim control over the situation.

Natalia swallowed hard. "Nicely done." She said to Yelena, pushing a rough edge into her voice to hide the shaking. "But next time don't hesitate. I gave you a clear shot to end it; I was on the floor. Next time, keep me there."

Yelena's eyes narrowed. "So that was a test?"

Natalia forced a smirk. "What do you think?" She brushed herself off and willed her heartbeat to slow, rolling her neck from side to side to loosen the tight muscles. "Again."

Whoever dubbed it "morning sickness" needed a bullet to the head, Natalia decided as, upon returning to her cell, she found herself rushing into the toilet to forcibly expel everything she had eaten at lunch. Sighing, she flushed and leaned her head against the cool porcelain wearily.

This couldn't go on. She was lucky that, thus far, the nausea hadn't directly impeded her normal cycle of duties - but the way it could strike at any time, night or day, meant that it couldn't be concealed forever.

Under normal circumstances, Natalia would have taken herself to the infirmary for a cure weeks ago. Sickness was to be reported immediately; reported, treated, and taken care of before it could compromise an asset or spread through the ranks like a contagion. That was the protocol. That was what she should do; what she would do, were her illness caused by anything other than pregnancy.

But, of course, she couldn't let the doctors examine her. Today's slip-up had been dangerous enough.

With a groan, Natalia pushed herself to her feet and shuffled back out into the main room of her cell. This had to stop. She was going to go mad...or do something stupid and betray herself to the eyes that were always, always watching.

Natalia had never seen the surveillance as a negative before - and the paradigm shift wasn't helping the nausea any - because surveillance meant backup; it meant trust; it meant a chance to prove value and loyalty. Never before had Natalia hidden anything from her overseers. Never had she had anything to hide...

When had she become a fugitive among her own kind?

Natalia doubted that she had to worry about any of the girls she shared her toilet with reporting her bouts of vomiting. Even if she were discovered, they would probably assume that she, like Katerina, had been ordered to lose a few pounds by any means necessary. But if her handlers noticed the pattern... And connected the dots to every other small tell she had let slip over the past few days...?!

It didn't even bear thinking about.

It made Natalia want to go to sleep right there and then and never wake up.

Falling onto her cot, the Black Widow shivered and curled up slightly as a new wave of sickness roiled in her gut. She rested one hand carefully over the spot, rubbing over the curve of her hipbone and the flat (for now) of her stomach. She estimated that she had roughly a month and a half before she began "showing".

Six weeks to think up and execute a plan.

Six weeks before she had to run.

Six weeks left of life.

Assuming she wasn't caught before then.

Assuming that Yelena hadn't figured out her secret.

Assuming that no one else had noticed.

Assuming...

"On your feet, Romanova." The stern, gravely voice cut through Natalia's thoughts like a rusty knife.

She sat up, heart pounding, and turned to face the soldier standing in her doorway. He was tall and stocky, like all Red Room guards, armed with a tranquilizer gun and an amped-up taser, face too blank to be normal and too unremarkable to be picked out of a line-up.

"Soldat." Natalia pasted on a languid smile and licked her lips. "What can I do for you?"

"You are to come with me. "

TBC...