Friday, October 13, 1995 2:19 AM
Natasha couldn't sleep. She'd taken a nap earlier that lasted far longer than it should have. Now she was awake with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. Her thoughts and the photo of her unknown child that she held in her hand. There was a lot that confused her with regard to him. The date that was written for starters. 1976. There was no way she could have a child that young in the year 1976. In 1976, she'd already been working for SHIELD for nine years; and had been AWOL from the Red Room, working as a freelance assassin for sixteen years before that, escaping in 1951. How then, was this boy, so young in 1976? Her guts were telling her that it was because of her serum. She'd had to have given birth after being injected with the serum. Perhaps she'd been given it during her pregnancy.
Her eyes landed again on the worn brown folder that sat on the four drawers marble top bedside table. She knew she would find all the answers to her questions inside. Still, she hadn't opened it once since she'd gone to her room around 7:30.
She and Pepper had talked a little about the pregnancy and what she should expect, based on the limited information that the two of them had on the subject. Natasha made a mental note to pick up several pregnancy books to take with her to the farm, as she stared at the picture of her son.
The photograph was black and white, making it difficult to say for sure what color his hair was, but her educated judgment said dark brown, the same as his eyes. He wore black plastic framed glasses giving him an educated and sophisticated look. He definitely had her nose and mouth, that was obvious from first glance. The picture was taken from the angle of him facing forward but looking back at someone, with the photographer being off his right side. He wore a Red Room issued, dark gray prisoner sweater with a white t-shirt beneath. She could not see what kind of pants he wore, but she knew they were dull gray sweats. She'd know, she'd worn the same thing. They all wore the same thing. She felt a surge of fury erupt within her at the knowledge that her son had also been a prisoner in the Red Room. The fact that Buck- the Soldier, thought that he was with her, suggested that he no longer was their prisoner and that they, the Red Room, did not know where he was. This suggested an escape. When? How? Who helped him? Why did they help him? Where is he now? How did the Soldier know that he'd escaped? Had they been in contact? More fury erupted at the thought that the soldier, the rapist, had knowledge of her son, and possibly knew him. It wasn't . the idea. Did her son know who she was? Natalia Romanova? The Black Widow? Natasha Romanoff, SHIELD agent? What did he know about her? There were so many unknowns. She knew she'd be able to begin her search once she knew his name (it couldn't be son of black widow), and birthday. She also would have to know the issue with his aging, and exactly how old he currently was. All information she'd have to open the file to learn.
Signing she leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes, thinking.
Why couldn't she open the file? The truth was, she was afraid. She was afraid of what the file might contain. She'd opened it for less than a minute the last time and learned that she had a sister and son that she didn't know about, as well as the identity of the soldier, in less than a minute! The file was thick. She knew she'd learn much more things she never knew and the thought frightened her. She didn't think she wanted to learn more unpleasant things about her life. She'd been raised as a Red Room prisoner until she escaped at twenty-three, her entire upbringing, in other words. She was almost certain that she killed for the first time not long after arriving, no older than five at the most. Did she really want to bring back all those forgotten memories? Perhaps it was better they were forgotten. she'd committed a multitude of horrible acts that she did remember. Her ledger was gushing.
Still, she wanted to find her son. Now that she knew he existed for certain, there was no way she'd turn her back on him. Who knows what he experienced in the Red Room. He was more than likely experimented on, tormented under the guise of training and perhaps much worse. He needed her, that she was sure of.
A knock at the door broke her from her musings.
Pepper, she thought, unsurprised. It was just like Pepper to come check in on her when she had a handsome husband in bed, however, she was eternally grateful for it.
"I'm awake, Pep," she called.
Pepper entered a moment later, looking as gorgeous as ever in a light jade green silk nightgown with the matching robe. She smiled tiredly at Natasha.
"I just wanted to see how you were faring," she said as she sat on the bed. "You slept a while, so Tony and I expected you to be awake."
Natasha smiled. "Thanks Pep," she said. Natasha didn't respond for a while as she pondered how to explain to her best friend all that was in her head. After several long minutes of silence passed, Pepper spoke.
"You're not able to open it, are you," she asked quietly.
Natasha shook her head, not needing or even wanting to lie, or feign ignorance to what she was referring to. She still did not have the words to express herself so settled instead on staring at the picture of her son. She had it memorized now, yet still couldn't put it away. Seeing him made everything more real.
Once again, Pepper proved her worth as a friend.
"Tony and I discussed the situation earlier," she began. "And we feel it would be more beneficial and productive, let alone less traumatic and stressful for you if I went through your files for you."
Natasha felt herself perk up at the idea. It was a great one, actually.
"I'm fluent in Russian, Bulgarian and Ukrainian," she continued. "so the written language or languages shouldn't be a problem. I'll make sure to only gather that which you need to know regarding your experiences in the Red Room, and gather all Intel pertaining to your son."
Natasha was already nodding her approval before she'd even finished. "I think it is an excellent idea," she said truthfully. "I was just thinking of all the probable unknown atrocities I've committed and forgotten. I do remember killing at a young age, Harley's age, and all my childhood training."
"How bad was it, I mean could have possibly been," asked Pepper incredulously. "I mean, you were a baby?"
Natasha sighed, unoffended. She knew Pepper meant no harm or disrespect. Coming from a loving, upper-class, two parents household, she was truly naive to the horrible brutalities of the world. Natasha couldn't fault her; contrarily, it pleased her that Pepper couldn't even imagine the horrors she experienced. Her mind pulled up Anya's image against her will. She immediately blocked it and her out. She would not, could not think of that, especially with everything else going on in her life.
"Let's just say this," answered Natasha. "I had a body count well past a hundred before I went on my first real mission to assassinate the leader of a master assassin organization." Pepper took a deep breath and said shakily. "Still you weren't"
"I was eleven," said Natasha briskly, cutting her off. "And a murdering machine," she continued angrily. "I was more dangerous as a child than I've ever been, because I wanted to be the best. I wanted to please her. I wanted her to be pleased with me; to be proud of me; to love me," she said quietly. "She was the only mother I knew." She looked Pepper in the eyes. "I enjoyed killing, and was good at it. I took to weapons, espionage and infiltration like fire on plastic," she said. "You're going to learn just what a monster I was, I am."
You're not -"
"If it wasn't for the Soldier and what he was doing to me, I might have never deflected. Being raped like that constantly for no reason at all really opened my eyes to the cruelty of the Red Room and made me want to bring them down." She sighed.
"That does not justify-" retorted Pepper angrily. "Never said it did," replied Nat. "I'm just glad I deflected," she said more tomorrow herself now as her eyes locked on the black and white photograph. "I would like it if you went through my files first," she admitted. "I don't want to remember anything I'll regret remembering. "
Pepper nodded, really just taking in everything Natasha shared with her. It was the most she'd spoken at a time about being a child in the Red Room.
"If it gets to be too much for you, Pepper," she said not wanting to overwhelm her friend.
But Pepper shook her head, finding her voice at last. "You survived living through everything in that file, Natasha," she said firmly. "I'll survive reading it."
"Thank you," said Natasha quietly.
Pepper waved it off as nothing. "Besides, you really don't need any added stress in your condition." she said sternly.
"Yes, mom," replied Natasha in mocked indignation.
"Mom," repeated Pepper, smirking. "If anything, you're like my grandmother," she laughed. "Excuse me for trying to look out for the elderly." Natasha swatted her, laughing herself as she reached over and retrieved the brown folder. She sighed deeply, КРАСНАЯ КОМНАТА ЗАКЛЮЧЕННЫЙ - Наталья Романова - Операции Черной Вдовы, staring up at her. Her eyes landed again on her son, solidifying her resolve. Without another thought, she handed the folder to the other woman, her unblinking eyes relaying her unspoken words. I'm trusting you with my life, with all my secrets, and with my son. Nodding, Pepper accepted it, her eyes reassuring the older woman that her secrets were all safe with her, and that she would do her best helping her locate her lost son.
Natasha was surprised when she yawned not long after. She'd just woken up to be honest. Pepper laughed. "Time for bed," she said as she undid the stash on her robe. Natasha's surprise must have shown on her face.
"You seriously don't think I'd let you face alone tonight," she said. "You've really had a traumatic day, Nat, and it's very likely you'll have nightmares.I'll be here when you do," she said simply and with finality as she climbed in bed. Natasha knew she was right and smiled to herself as she laid down, making herself comfortable. She really was glad to have such a selfless and kind friend. Her last thought before falling into a nightmare filled sleep, was that she didn't deserve Pepper's friendship.
*88888*88888*
Monday, October 16, 1995
Natasha sighed deeply as she knocked on Director Nick Fury's office door. She hated the fact that she was actually very tired and ready for a nap after driving nearly four hours from Manhattan to Washington DC, to the Triskelion, where he was. She'd gotten up after six that morning, extremely late for her, and on the road right before seven - not a good time. She was actually proud of herself for making the trip in less than four hours; it had sometimes taken her up to six hours, depending on the traffic. She hated she was so tired now though.
Stifling a yawn, she entered after being given permission.
"Agent Romanoff," said the master of spies; his secrets having secrets, Nick Fury. He was a black man, bald, appearing to be in his early fifties, late forties at the least. He sported a black leather eye patch that complimented the all black leather attire he usually donned. No one, perhaps with the exception of Maria Hill and Coulson knew the truth of how he lost an eye, but according to him it was the last time he trusted a man. "What brings you," he asked, giving her his full attention.
Natasha took a deep breath. "I need to take a two week personal leave," she said bluntly. "Effective immediately."
Fury raised an eyebrow at this. "I can honestly say I'm surprised, Romanoff," he confessed. "Why, this has to be the first time you've ever, in twenty-eight years, requested time off."
His eyes begged for her to divulge her reasons for the sudden need for time off. She didn't oblige, but instead raised an eyebrow of her own, which Fury knew was asking whether or not she was granted said leave.
"Permission for leave granted, Agent Romanoff," he said after a minute or so of their staring contest. "Effective immediately." Before he could pose his next question Natasha pulled papers from her purse and handed them to her boss.
"I'm quitting, this is my two week notice, in writing," she stated unnecessarily, as Fury had already begun reading them. "Well technically," she said shrugging, "Today is my last day, as my two week personal leave begins when I walk out."
Fury didn't bother to contain his well - fury. "What the hell, Natasha," he yelled, flipping through the papers. "Why? What happened?"
Natasha didn't respond immediately. She paused, as if she was thinking it over, before sitting in the chair across the desk of him.
"I'm pregnant," she said quietly, maintaining eye contact. "Captain Rogers and I are no longer engaged, and he wants me to terminate the pregnancy, and sever all communication with him unrelated to work so," she sighed. "I'm quitting."
Fury stared, looking furious, as he listened. "Not because of the failed relationship," continued Natasha. "But for the safety of my unborn child. It is not wise for the knowledge of Captain Rogers reproducing to become known, even more so considering the fact that he wants nothing to do with this child."
"I could just fire Rogers," Fury said angrily. "I surely didn't expect this type of shit from him."
Natasha forced a smile. "It still wouldn't change our circumstance." she stood and turned to the door.
"Don't worry, Fury," she said, looking him in the eye. "If the Black Widow is ever truly needed," she opened the door and exited. "The Black Widow will be there.
"Natalia." Natasha stopped in her tracks without looking back. seldom was she addressed by her true name and hardly ever at SHIELD. It was a name she associated with her 'family.' Little knew the true story of how she came to work for SHIELD. The truth was, they had given orders to kill her. she had become a global threat, not caring what government or agency she worked for, they feared her both for her 'skills' and knowledge. She'd completed too many ''missions'' for the United States. they feared what the Red Room feared: that she'd talk. They wanted her silenced permanently, before that could happen. Afterall all, SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we like it to be, and we can't wait for the crime to happen first before giving the punishment.
As it happened, Fury gave orders to Coulson to eliminate her. Agent Barton, the second to escape the Red Room, she being the first, was given the honors of killing the Black Widow, Carter being his handler. Barton remembered her from the Red Room and decided to offer her a job rather than killing her. She'd been in Canada at the time visiting a friend whom he assumed she'd been sent to kill. It was this friend who, having a keen sense of smell and sight, discovered the hawk perched in a tree and immediately went on the defensive. Natalia recognized Barton moments before he was killed and stopped her friend. She remembered the shock she felt that 1 he was no longer in the Red Room, and 2, that he'd agreed to kill her. She'd even asked him. "Are you going to kill me?" and was satisfied with the regret in his eyes. "Come to SHIELD," he said suddenly, almost pleadingly. "And stop this, Natalia," he said gesturing to her friend, confusing them both. He figured it out first and began laughing. "He thinks you're here to kill me," he'd explained.
"What-No," she exclaimed. Hawkeye remained unconvinced.
"I know who this is," her friend informed Barton. "The Black Widow; I've known her for a long time, I assure you, she's not here to kill me."
"What would I do at SHIELD, if not be their prisoner?" she asked.
"I don't know," confessed Barton. "Be the Black Widow, I guess. Do what you're trained to do, what we're trained to do, only for SHIELD; just for SHIELD."
"I'm wanted in numerous countries by numerous agencies, including SHIELD, obviously, and the United States."
Barton then held a finger up. "My handler said it wouldn't be an issue," he said smiling. "Trap," muttered both Natalia and her friend. "They wouldn't do that," declared Barton.
"How do you know," she challenged.
"Because if they do," he said smirking, "I'll quit."
Peggy Carter ended up being her handler. Because of Natalia's youthful appearance and apparent mindset, despite being 39 years old, Peggy enrolled her in a local high school as her first "mission." She lacked proper social and people skills, and she was clueless on how to interact with teenagers having been raised to kill them, and according to Carter, she acted like a child. Literally, it was like she was the age she appeared to be (about between sixteen and seventeen), and not her actual age. Three years of high school and four years of college later, she was "officially" an agent of SHIELD. Peggy and Phil, (her undercover "parents" for school) had become like true parents to her. She is called Natalia, almost solely by one person, Coulson, her 'father', to this day. She and Peggy still had a great relationship. She still sometimes called Peggy 'Mom', and probably will always see Peggy as her mother, but she was "daddy's girl." Barton had already been "adopted" by Phil and she and he grew to be extremely close, closer than siblings.
Hearing Fury address her by Natalia told her she was no longer speaking to the director of SHIELD, but to her 'Uncle Fury'. She swallowed nervously.
"You will inform Coulson yourself," said Fury as she turned to face him. "Exactly why you are no longer an agent of SHIELD," he said, his one eye unblinking. Slowly, she nodded.
Great, she thought. He's going to kill Steve.
*88888*88888*
Saturday, October 21, 1995 11:09am
Natasha found herself seated in the small private jet that belonged to her, along with Pepper, Tony and Harley. She'd received it several years ago in exchange for her special set of skills on a prominent senator by someone who shall remain nameless. It had been a side job, the target easy and the payment too good to pass up. If Fury knew of the side jobs she sometimes took, he never spoke of it.
"Where are we going, Auntie Nat," asked the adorable boy, turning his big brown eyes on her. She couldn't help but smile.
"We are going to my home," she answered. "In Iowa. Have you ever been to Iowa?"
"No," said Tony. "Can't say that I have. Where exactly is Iowa?"
"I thought you lived with Uncle Steve," Harely asked innocently. Natasha ignored the punch to the gut she felt at his question and quickly masked her emotions.
"Uncle Steve and I are no longer together," she replied coolly. To a stranger it would appear she wasn't affected in the slightest at his question, but those who knew her, like Pepper and Tony she grudgingly admitted, knew better. "We no longer date, are not getting married, and no longer live together." she said, her tone clipped, which she was thankful Harley was too young to notice.
"Tell us about this farm of yours Red," said Tony in his attempt to quickly change the subject. "What do you have -cows? You know, I can really see you milking them." Harley burst out laughing as Natasha rolled her eyes.
"I'm telling you Pep, I can totally see it," he made a picture gesture with his hands. "Nat in blue jean overalls rolled up to her ankles, barefoot, a red plaid button down with a cowboy hat."
Harley was practically rolling on the floor laughing before sputtering, "Y-yankee d-doodle went to town, riding on a pony" happily. Natasha couldn't help but let his happiness rub off on her and joined in. "Stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni."
"Seriously though," said Tony moments later. "A farm, Nat?"
"It's a fruit farm if you must know, Stark," she answered. "I don't own any farm animals, not even so much as a dog."
"Fruits, really?" inquired Pepper. This was something she didn't know about her best friend. "When did you get the farm?"
"Well fruit and vegetables," said Natasha shrugging. "And I acquired the property in '55. After living there for a year I decided the best thing to do with the land, which is private and secluded, was to grow my own fruits and vegetables."
"And you just bought seeds and planted them," asked Tony, amazed.
Natasha laughed, shaking her head. "I hired workers to work the land. Over the past forty years I've expanded. It's more like a small business. I now have a full staff of workers to do everything from hoeing and tilling to harvesting and canning for me. I have a good friend who runs the small store I opened relatively recent and it's doing well; better than expected, actually.
"How do you afford all that," Tony asked with a shocked look on his face. "Certainly not from working for SHIELD?" Natasha gave a grim smile. "During my years as a freelance assassin," she explained. "I took only high end, high government, paying jobs. I was not limited to the United States;" she then, in a playful way, covered Harley's ears. "I in fact, was an enemy against it, a threat, as I was so often reminded in the beginning, "and target against, first my own country- KGB, FIS-SVR, NSA, DIA, BND, RAW," her tone might suggest she was simply rattling off a shopping list, not major global intelligence agencies that wanted her dead. "-CSIS, ASIS, DHS, CIA, CSS, The Defense Intelligence," Pepper and Tony turned and stared at each other open-mouthed, for a brief moment before turning back to Natasha, who seemed to not have noticed the exchange. "-the SIS or M16, Mossad, ISI, MSS, the DGSE, FBI, DOJ," she paused, her face scrunched as she tried to remember. "I think that's all," she said, looking from Pepper to Tony, knowing the consequences of mentioning that she'd been hired multiple times by many of those same agencies. Politics she thought. "I was globally sought after for my skills and being the efficient, prolific assassin I was," she continued. "I charged whatever I wanted, and never anything less than a million." she shrugged, removing her hands from Harley's ears. "What can I say, I began in 1951, charging a mill a kill. I did that for sixteen years. I'm great at managing and investing my money, budgeting, and keeping a low profile, so I have quite a lubricant bank account, Mister Billionaire," she said, smiling and winking. Tony nodded his approval. "Excellent," he said cheerfully, happy that he wasn't the only Avenger also a member of the 'millionaire's club'.
"You should teach classes," he said. "Investing and budgeting, I mean, not how to kill and terrori-"
"What kind of fruits do you grow," asked Pepper, genuinely curious about the farm, but mainly for a change of subject to shut her husband up.
She looked eagerly at Natasha. She really was fascinated with the farm. She actually wanted a farm to retire to in due time.
Natasha smiled, a genuine smile, one both Pepper and Tony noticed and was pleased to see.
"Everything," she breathed, her eyes lighting up, and a rare tone of pride lacing her voice. "Mostly," she amended. "I have apples and oranges trees," she listed in the same tone and rhythm she listed the intelligence agencies she'd been most-wanted in. "Plums, peaches, pears, cherries and a mulberry tree. I have two mango trees, several pomegranate trees, a few lemons and nectarines and a lime tree." Pepper's eyebrow rose, impressed, but Natasha wasn't finished.
"I have several bushes each of blueberries, strawberries, raspberries and even pineapples," she exclaimed happily. "I grow watermelon, cantaloupes and honeydew melons. I also have rows of greens - collards, mustards and turnips, lettuce, spinach, kale, celery and swisschard, Mmm," she hummed at Harley as she licked her lips, causing him to make a disgusted face at her delight of what he deemed 'nasty food.'
"There's also cabbage, potatoes, radish, carrots, garlic, tomatoes, zucchini and beans," she said clapping her hand animatedly for Harley's enjoyment, at which he squealed in delight. "Beans and peas galore - snap beans, lima beans, navy, kidney, red beans, black beans, pinto beans, adzuki beans- which are really good by the way," she smiled at Harley. "I put them in ice cream," she declared, laughing at his horrified face. "There's also chickpeas,"
"Do they come from chickens?" asked Harley delighted. "No silly," laughed Natasha. "They come from seeds - and black eye peas," she continued without missing a beat. "I have okra, peppers, broccoli, onions, rosemary, basil, cilantro, chives, lavender, mint, lemongrass, oregano, parsley, sage, thyme and corn," she said, listing them all very quickly.
"That's quite impressive," applauded Pepper, genuinely impressed. "Sounds like you can live off the land - literally, there."
Natasha nodded. "That was part of the purpose for obtaining such a large amount of land, another being that I don't trust America's food, and the last, it was built first and foremost, as a hide out from the government, an efficient one, seeing as I've never been found here." She turned and looked out the window, loving the clouds, and the view of the earth growing larger. They were about to land. "I have a private runway and hanger for my jet," she explained as Pepper and Tony also realized they were about to land. "I also have an underground bunker," she smirked.
"No way," said both Harley and Tony together.
"You'll see," she said laughing.
*88888*88888*
Natasha led the family of three into her home. She hadn't been here in several months and she truly missed it. Eternally grateful for her housekeeper, an elderly lady named Grace, who was a grandmother to one of her workers. Well technically Grace was only two years older than her, but the locals knew her by Nancy Rushmore, and didn't know her real age.
They entered into the living room area of her home where the front door was located.
This farm, the first home she acquired in the United States, was by far, her favorite property.
She acquired it from her oldest friend in the world. She'd first met him on her first official and 'real' mission from the Red Room. She had been eleven years old at the time. Her mission: infiltrate and eliminate the organization known as the Hand, located in Madripoor. She did well, one would even say great, at first. However, she'd been shot as she attempted to escape, the Jonin and a dozen or so men that made up his "guard" all dead. If she'd just followed orders - kill them and leave - she'd never had gotten shot. Fate, however, always had the final say. She had passed a lab, and could see several vials of blood from the window on the door, the name of the man it'd belonged to: Captain America. Detouring, she quickly broke in and stole as many as she could carry, before exiting again, not knowing that her very entrance into the room set off silent alarms. She exited and received a shot to the shoulder by approaching guards.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Her two glocks roared to life down the previously deserted corridor, and they fell like dominoes, one bullet in each skull, perfect aim. It was as she was reloading, facing more oncoming targets, that friendly shots came from behind.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
And the three in front fell dead to the floor. He helped her escape, rescuing also Captain America, neither of them knowing that she was not a hostage as he'd assumed, nor the fact that she'd stolen Captain America's blood. Despite not meeting again for decades, neither forgot the other, and they'd been able to build a close friendship over the years as she worked for SHIELD. Sometimes the agencies they worked for even collaborated and they made a splendid team.
The fact that it was a gift from him was the reason it was her favorite property. At that time in her life -1951 she was not accustomed to anyone doing anything for her without expecting something, usually her skills, in return. She cherished that deeply.
However, not only did the property come with its own private lake, it was also completely secluded. She absolutely loved the isolation. Excluding the Bartons, she had no neighbors for at least three miles in every direction. There was a small town; one gas station, a grocery store, no fast food establishment, but a few small diners and a K-12 school that all the children attended, one church, her vegetables store, a local library and petty sheriff's office and nothing at all but fields and pastures for miles and miles. She also has a hiking trail, going from her house all the way around the perimeter of her backcountry land that only she and Clint knew how to navigate through the thick wilderness. Aside from the bears, cougars, mountain lions and other wildlife; one also had to beware of the death traps they've built for them. Altogether, however, the land was simply beautiful. Far, very far in the distance was a beautiful mountain top, only visible from her farm because of the lack of inhibitions of people and buildings. She planned on taking the Stark family on a nature walk while they were here, so that they could see the true beauty of her land.
Turning the lights on as she entered the home that was too big for just her, she smiled and gave them a quick but thorough tour of the house. It was very spacious, completely modernized from top to bottom being renovated eleven years before. Natasha didn't know the last time she'd been here that the next time she'd be there she'd have company. She never brought anyone to her home with the sole exception of "parents," and her other best friend, Barton and his family, and she felt a little uncomfortable and nervous.
Clint owned a farm on land on the other side of trees that completely blocked the houses from each other. She'd gifted Clint the farm when he proposed to Laura, knowing that there would be more additions to their family besides Clinton "Francis" Barton jr, Clint's son from a relationship with Mockingjay, and Natasha wasn't wrong. Cooper Clint Barton, followed Francis in what seemed like no time at all. She wasn't going to inform the Starks about Barton's farm and family, nor the fact that she has underground tunnels leading from Clint's house into the bunker, which had a separate entrance into her cellar. That was not her business to tell.
Her house consisted of a full attic, complete with two rooms, a lounge and kitchenette area and full bathroom, two floors, with the upstairs having four large bedrooms, and two full bathrooms, one located in the master bedroom. The first floor consisted of a den area/family room, a living room, dining room, office, kitchen, laundry room, and 'meeting' room, as well as a half bathroom. On the outside she had a huge wrap-around porch, a sunroom, as well as a fully loaded, three bedroom one bath walkout basement, complete with egress windows. The basement also had a "downstairs" leading to the underground cellar which led to the tunnels that opened in her entrance of the underground bunker.
She had a three-door garage housing a black Camaro, a black Ford Explorer, a motorcycle, dirt bike, four wheeler and golf cart.
It wasn't expensive in taste but modestly decorated, albeit sparse in personal touches one becomes accustomed to seeing in one's home, such as family portraits or photographs, there were a few of her and Steve that would be coming down immediately, but nothing more. What she did have was expensive art pieces by artists such as Elena Ivchenko, John Richard, Syra Gomez, Oliver Shaw, Don Perley, Romero Britto, Michele Tholen, and Daniel Wall. As well as classic pieces by artists like Claude Monet, Leonardo Divinchi, and Michelangelo. Some of her favorite art pieces are all ballet related, having been a ballerina since she was five years old. She owned Oliver Gal's Ballerina Movement Tulle, Dancer's At Rest by In-house artist, Pink Ballerina V by Chelsea Art Studio, Ballet With Magic by Leonid Afremov, Dancer in front of a window by Edgar Degas, and many more. She truly loved ballet and had an art piece of something relating to it in every single room of the house.
"Dance much, Nat," asked Tony after he seemed to notice her ballet theme.
"Actually I do," replied Natasha as she led them into the kitchen for snacks having completed the tour sometime later. Grace had the refrigerator and cabinets well stocked of the things she liked and needed and Natasha didn't hesitate to open a cold bottled water and drink half in a gulp, before offering snacks and beverages to everyone else.
Clint and Laura arrived with their two boys, three year old Francis, and one year old Cooper, delighting Harley. Harley and Francis immediately became inseparable, declaring themselves best friends within an hour. Laura and Clint couldn't have been more happier. Tony and Clint entertained the boys by taking them out on the four wheelers making themselves scarce for the entire afternoon while the ladies began dinner prep, gathering the ingredients they would need for their spaghetti, meatballs, and homemade sauce dinner with a salad and garlic bread, the three making an excellent team.
Dinner was served, and everyone was seated, enjoying the meal when Tony spoke.
"Natasha," he said, earning everyone's attention. "I love the farm," he said honestly. "It's fantastic. It's beautiful actually," he continued, causing Natasha to give a small smile. "How much land do you own out here?" he asked.
"A thousand acres," Natasha replied.
"Seriously," he asked. "That has to be-"
"A mile and a half," she replied, smirking. "Plus a little."
Well that brings me to my next point," he said. "With you having a baby on the way, Barton's crew, which is only going to grow," he went on. "Pep and I have Harley, and we're thinking of more." Pepper raised an eyebrow at this. She was not ready to begin popping out little Starks, however much Tony wanted them. He had Harley. "We need a facility," he explained. "For the kids, a little kid-venger place for the kids to be able to have fun, to have everything they need right here. A Child's dream house."
"Don't you think that's a little over the top," asked Natasha. "I don't want my child spoiled, and I know Clint and Laura do their best to keep their boys grounded."
"No, no, no," said Tony quickly. "You misunderstand me. With you now living here, I know Pep, she's going to want a farm too. She's always talking about a farm, anyway, it'll be more like our vacation home, complete with JARVIS and a medical wing, because let's face it, you're going to need a place to deliver the little CapWidow baby."
Natasha nodded. "Never refer to my child as CapWidow again," she said in her monotone, despite loving the idea.
"There would be a gym and full inside and outdoor basketball court, a tennis court , Pep likes tennis, a golf course for Clint and I," he explained, slowly winning everyone over. "A indoor and outdoor swimming pool, complete with slides and diving boards, a Bar-b-Que area. I want Harley and the boys to have a race track around the property with go carts, a full arcade for the kids, a private movie theater and bowling alley with our own private salon and barber shop." he finished, looking around at everyone, before his eyes rested on Natasha. It was her property afterall. Everyone else turned to Natasha as well, including Harley and Francis with big pleading eyes. Natasha smiled.
"Sounds great," she said. "When will you have blueprints so we can talk about construction?"
"Give me a week," Tony said happily.
"Done," said Natasha smiling as she drank some of the lemon squeezed lemonade, they'd prepared earlier. She actually did like the idea of delivering the baby in a private facility rather than the hospital. Too many risks. And with everything he's planning to build, the kids would have everything they dreamed of to keep from going insane living in such seclusion. She'd talk to Tony about it more in depth later. She wanted to make sure he had a cellar with tunnels leading to and from both hers and Barton's homes into the facility. It'd be a great safe place for them all to hide together should the need ever arise. She wanted a shooting range built in the basement and an ammo supply room like the one beneath them now. She'd make sure the facility was close enough but not in view of either her or Barton's place. Just in case.
88888*88888*
Sunday, October 22, 1995
Queens, New York
6:03am
Ten year old Peter Parker made his way to the kitchen he shared with his "Aunt May." She was not really his aunt, but another escaped prisoner of the Red Room Prison. He hated that place. He'd spent the majority of his life there attached to machines and wires as they withdrew what must have equaled to gallons of his blood. He had been their new weapon. They wanted him to be better than those before him. He'd been trained to fight and kill, but he never enjoyed it. He refused to kill and it cost him. He made them angry and they would lock him away and not let him be with his father.
He liked his father, despite him being quiet most of the time. They made his father teach him how to fight, hoping he would punish him when he failed, but his father never did. He was patient with him. His father, James, he'd said his name was, had been his only teacher. He taught him languages and how to read them, math and how to speak and read English. His father told him that he was from Brooklyn New York and that he had a mother and younger sisters and that he'd been captured and forced to do terrible things. He would get sad then and closed down.
Peter poured himself a bowl of cereal, Yelena, or May as she'd been for the past four years was still asleep. Ever since escaping the Red Room four years before when Captain America and the Black Widow destroyed their facility, Yelena had picked up a bad habit of sleeping in. They were trained to get up early and begin their day but she'd changed. He hadn't. His father had always told him to remember his training, that it might save his life one day.
He sighed. He really missed his father. he hadn't seen him since escaping the Red Room. He didn't even know who his mother was. His father got very emotional, sometimes angry when he used to ask about her so he'd stopped. All he knew was what his father had told him. "Your mother does not know who you are. They erased you from her memories."
"Why," he'd asked.
"Because she loved you too much. It scared them. They thought it made her a liability."
"Who is she daddy," he'd ask. he'd been 7 at the time, about 20 years ago.
"She is very smart, very beautiful and very dangerous," he answered. "They made me hurt her. They made me hurt her in the worst way. Never do to any woman what I did to your mother, never, he growled. "
"But what did you do?" Asked Peter quietly.
He got this far away look in his eyes before punching a hole in the nearest wall. "I put you inside her, against her will," he said angrily. "Never do it against their will."
Peter didn't understand what his father was talking about, but he stopped asking about his mother. His father became scary when he mentioned her. He still wanted to meet her, and know her. He believed she had red hair. He didn't know if it was her for sure but he always dreamt of a red hair woman. "Я люблю вас" she would whisper as she kissed his forehead. he wish he could hear her voice once more.
There was a noise coming from the backroom that stirred him from his musings. Pulling a concealed pistol from the holster beneath the table, he rose.
Silent and swiftly, with the skills and training of the Red Room, he made his way to the noise. In the third bedroom of the small apartment, dark from the black black blackout curtains he saw the silhouette of a man. He cocked the gun and aimed when a glimmer caught his eye. Metal. His heart hammering happily, he told himself it couldn't be. That he was imagining things because of how much he'd been missing his father lately. His training prevented him from lowering the weapon even as his voice stammered out
"D-Dad"
Seconds that felt like hours passed before the winter Soldier emerged from the corner of the room. He was in full attire down to the face mask, but Peter didn't care. He was here. He lowered the gun and ran to his father jumping into his arms.
"Dad," he exclaimed. "You're here, you found me,"
"I'm only stopping by to tell you where to find your mother," he said quickly and quietly. Peter's heart fell. "You're not staying," he asked.
James shook his head. "I just escaped from custody," he paused. "Again. Rogers will be tracking me down in no time. I don't have much time."
Peter nodded not liking the idea that his father would not be staying.
"Natalia Romanova," he said quietly, as he handed a picture of her to their son. "This is your mother. She also goes by the name Natasha Romonoff or -"
"The Black Widow," repeated Peter in awe. "Are you telling me that the Black Widow is my mother?"
James nodded solemnly. Peter's face fell. "But why didn't she take me with her," he asked. "When she destroyed the Red Room. I walked right up to her. She looked at me before running down the hall. Then Yelena found me and Dr. Fedorov and his wife found us and we escaped."
James knew this already. Dr. Fedorov had been an unwilling doctor for the Red Room. When Black Widow destroyed the Red Room he and his wife Adelina escaped with Yelena Belova and Peter Barnes and settled in Pennsylvania as Dr. Richard Parker with his wife Mary, son Peter and niece May. They'd been murdered by Red Room operatives searching for Peter two years before, leaving just Peter with Yelena. Yelena had thought it was best to move considering the Fedorovs were killed. Peter, remembering his father was from the state, immediately opted for New York.
James sighed. "I told you years ago that your mother didn't know you. That is why she didn't recognize you the day we escaped. She knows about you now however. I gave her files to Rogers and told him about you so that the two of them would find you and be able to raise you properly.
"I want you to raise me with Mom, Dad," whined Peter. "Not her boyfriend."
"That will never happen," said James quietly. "I hurt her too badly for too long. But Rogers will be a good father-"
"You're the only father I want."
"You won't want me as your father once you learn the truth of what I did to your mother, besides I'm leaving for Pakistan in1 hour. I have been called for assignment." he paused and looked Peter in the eye before standing. "I love you son, tell your mother that I'm sorry" he said quietly.
"Daddy, wait," cried Peter running after him. "James stopped and allowed his son to hug him. "How will I find her though," he whispered to his father.
"She's friends with your hero, Tony Stark," he said. "I'm sure you'll be able to come up with a way of meeting Stark with all the brains you have," he ruffled his hair "Consider this your first mission from me:Contact Tony Stark, tell him who you are and who your mother is. He will take you straight to her," and an eyeblink later he was gone, leaving Peter alone again.
He looked down at the photo of his mother and smiled. He knew she had red hair. "Misson Accepted," he said cheerfully returning to his cereal.