Hello everyone, I apologize again for making you wait so long, I've just had so much going on, but that's no excuse. I promise I will try to update more regularly. I can say though that the next chapter is almost done, so you won't have to wait too long for it.


She was sitting on the edge of the bed shaking, her hands trembling, and she was still having trouble getting her breathing under control. Clint had brought her some water again, and she'd managed to drink half of it in small sips. He hadn't questioned her, just held her and helped her sit up, helped her get herself back together. She didn't think that was possible.

Where?

Her mind screamed, and she shuddered out a small sob, screaming 1018465195. Natasha clenched her eyes shut, resting her elbows on her knees and burying her hands in her hair. What did that mean!? What did that have to do with anything? With her tiny nose and tiny lips and beautiful eyes?

She let out another sob, her body shaking with it.

Her head hurt so much. But the pressure in her chest was unbearable. When? A baby. No… shit. A baby. So tiny, so little in her arms. She'd seen her, clear as day, and suddenly, everything made sense, and everything fell apart. She chocked on a sob, her hands covering her face, feeling it hot and wet with tears. She'd cried then too, when he'd told her that it was time, and she'd cried no, that she couldn't let go.

It all made sense, but How? They'd cut away any hope of that, ripped it away from her, she could remember that clearly, even if it was long ago. So, so long ago. The ceremony is necessary. They'd hardened her into marble and that day had been when the last of her humanity had been snuffed away.

I have no place in the world. It hadn't exactly been a dream of hers, there wasn't much time or hope for dreams growing up, but it was there in the back of her mind sometimes, when watching the films or walking outside on missions. So, when they'd told her what the 'ceremony' was really about, she'd freaked out, tried to get out of it, tried to fail, but it was futile. Afterwards, she'd felt dead inside.

The memory was making her trembling get worse. What if… what if it wasn't real? Maybe she'd gone crazy? Making things up? Or… a planted memory? The idea of her maybe not being real after all made her crying start anew. Her little nose, her rosebud lips, so tiny, she could still see it in her mind's eye, and her eyes, were bright and beautiful. She was so perfect, maybe she wasn't real?

"Nat." He called her name softly, kneeling in front of her and gently placing his hand on her arms, trying to get her to look at him and she relented, pulling her hands away from her face and looking at him for the first time since he'd woken her up from her little episode earlier. He probably didn't want her to go into another one, if the concerned look on his face said anything. "Nat, what's wrong?"

She felt more tears spring to her eyes and her throat choke up even more at his worried question. She had no idea how to answer. What was wrong? Maybe… maybe, she had a baby. She cried out, her hands going to her face again but Clint held on fast to her arms, taking her face in his hands and clearing her tears away. "Hey, hey…" He was talking to her softly. "Nat, come one, you're scaring me."

She didn't know what to say to him. What if it wasn't real? She didn't want to even voice her thoughts. And if by some miracle, it was real, then…

And suddenly it was worse. Her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. She couldn't breathe. Where is she!? If… if she was real… then… where was she!? She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe. Where- where… "Nat, breathe." Where was she? Why… why? If they´d run away, what happened? They were tortured when they were caught. Where was she? "Nat!"

He shook her now, hands on her upper arms insistent and tight, trying to ground her, bring her back down from another panic attack, but she wasn't even breathing from shock, and not for the first time that day did he consider calling in someone to sedate her. "Nat! Come on!" He cupped her face in his hands again and got right in her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes, it'd seem to work the last two times. And thank God, it worked again. She breathed in as if she was afraid the room would run out of air, and he started counting with her. "Nat, come on, follow me, breathe in… 1…2…3… out… 4…5…6…" and continued breathing in and out loudly for several minutes, until she was breathing normally again, focused and calm, or as calm as he could get her, she was still shaking like a leaf.

She was feeling better, feeling a little more grounded, breathing calmly for the first time since she saw that moment in her head. And it was clearing her head, the breathing, and Clint's voice, soothing her. She could see him now, really see him, he wasn't just a blur in her panic anymore, he was right in front of her, controlling his breathing so she'd copy him.

Thoughts in her head cleared and stopped having that edgy quality panic usually gave them. When she closed her eyes again and saw her, in her arms, feeding and falling asleep, she felt pain in her chest tear through her, but she held herself together. It all made sense now. "It makes sense." Why she was here, what had brought her here, why she was fighting so hard to be better, why she never felt at ease, why the pressure in her chest felt like a ticking time bomb, what her arms and her chest ached with emptiness, why she felt like she was running out of time, like something was missing.

"What does?" Clint asked her softly, placing his hand back down to her arms, a gentle support, but insistent on some answers now too.

"Why I'm here." She sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hands. Clint pulled his hands away but stayed kneeling in front of her, concern still etched to his face. She passed her hands through her hair, rolling her shoulders back and making a show of straightening up and pulling herself together a bit, now suddenly very self-conscious of the state he'd seen her in, of how he'd had to calm her down and she felt her cheeks try to heat up but she pushed it down. She cleared her throat and looked at him a bit expectantly, but he didn't move away. He knew she was starting to realize what had happened and was probably feeling embarrassed but he really didn't want her to feel like she had to be ashamed for breaking down, he was quite surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

"It's ok to need help once in a while, you know." She looked away when he told her this and her hands twitched, as if wanting to clench or move but she controlled her reaction. "We´re only human." He hated that he had to remind her of this so often, but he was only thankful that she was getting more and more comfortable with the admission.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes on the inhale and opening them on the exhale, and repeated softly. "We´re human."

"Yes." He reaffirmed, standing up and taking a seat next to her now that he knew she wouldn't hide or pull away from him. "Are you all right?"

She didn't look him in the eye, instead fought her instinct to fight her instinct and finally allowed her hands to wring together a bit anxiously. "No." She admitted softly.

He nodded, accepting her short answer. He wouldn't push her, he just needed her to know he was there for her, that she wasn't alone, and never would be again, if he could help it.

"I remembered something." She'd told him before, she could remember some things while asleep, but she'd never given him details, just that it wasn't always pretty. He suddenly felt a pull of dread.

"Do you always remember things like that?"

"No, it's never been that bad." She was quick to reassure him. "This was something… bigger, different, maybe something I already knew, deep down, but didn't want to believe could be true." Her voice was hoarse, not just that sweet quality she usually had, but really deep and hoarse from crying and she finished off the glass of water still on the floor from when he'd brought her some earlier. "I didn't want to believe it." She confessed. "Now, I'm… scared."

"Of what?"

She turned to look at him, open and vulnerable. "I'm… still figuring that out."

He nodded slowly and placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in and she tensed for a moment, before she swallowed hard and relaxed, again fighting her trained instincts that fought her natural instincts. She sank into him, tucking her head under his chin and let him swop his hand up and down her arms in a calming gesture that at first made her tense up again, but soon started its calming effect.

She thought long and hard, about the implications of it all. If it wasn't real, then she needed to find out where it was from, why they would have planted that memory. There was no mission even remotely connected to a cover like that that she could remember. But in all honesty, she was quickly discarding that idea. It just felt… true. To her bones, she could feel it. It sounded tacky, but really, she could feel it in her heart, in her womb, in her breast. Empty.

Then she needed to find out more information, where she could be, when this all happened, how come she showed no physical signs of it? Or if they knew, if the red room or department X knew, if she was in a lab somewhere, or if by some miracle, she was safe. If by some miracle, she was real. She wanted to cry again. She didn't even know when she'd been born, or where. Yasha was her father, she was sure of that, they'd run away, and she'd wondered over and over again what had possessed them to do such a thing. Well, this was a pretty reasonable answer. Were they torturing them just because they'd run away, or because they wanted to know where the baby was?

Also, she'd managed to get herself to a safe place, and not just any place, but the biggest peace-keeping organization in the planet. Surely she'd planned this more than she'd realized. With the resources here she could find her, find out if she was safe.

Had they gotten her someplace safe? Maybe. She really hoped they had. She tried to imagine her, safe and sound somewhere far away from the life her parents had. Maybe with a family and a home, real sisters that actually cared. A mom. Natasha clenched her eyes shut at the thought. Maybe she had a mom, a mama that loved her and held her and it hurt to think it, but oh, how she hoped it was true. She'd give the world to find out that she was safe and loved, no matter the cost.

Maybe she had a mom.

She hoped she had a mom.

Clint's arms tightened around her and she realized she was crying again, but softer now, just tears running down her cheeks. "Nat?"

"I want-" … to find her, she wanted -needed- to find her. But, could she tell Clint that? No, she quickly decided that she couldn't. She trusted him, she did, but this seemed a bit too much. She trusted him with herself, but she wasn't sure about… Yasha, and their baby. Their baby. It was still so surreal.

Plus, she wasn't stupid. She knew he had to report back to that Coulson guy on anything she could remember that could help them, anything from contacts to old missions to locations and so on, since day one Clint had been debriefing her. She knew he wouldn't reveal personal details if she gave him any, but she opted for not giving him any, not wanting to cause him any trouble on having to decide on what to report and what not to, from having a dilemma between keeping her confidence or feeling as if he'd betrayed her. And this was big, so big, and she knew it was something he'd have to report, what with Yasha being a trainer.

She didn't trust SHIELD. She trusted the people, Clint and Fury, but the organization per se, she knew they didn't like her nor wanted her anywhere around. If it weren't for Fury and Clint they would have gotten their wish and killed her long ago. So really, SHIELD wasn't an option either. Which was frustrating, now that she thought about it. How was she going to use the resources available if she didn't have access to the system?

She sighed heavily, leaning more into Clint. "I don't know." She almost whispered, and he just rubbed her arm again, showing her his support.

She needed a plan. First things first. Get access to the system. She grimaced, knowing it wouldn't be that easy. After all, they weren't the biggest organization in the planet by having an easy-to-hack system. It's security network was second only to Stark Industries. Even if she had access to the system, she wouldn't have any wiggle room, not yet. They would be recording her every move, monitoring her every transaction, and if she tried to work around it, it would send up red flags everywhere. It didn't look good, and patience just didn't seem like her trait in this particular situation.

Clint's cell phone beeped at the same time her interphone did. And that could only mean one thing: The good doctor was here.


"And what are you giving him in return?"

Fury's face was impassive, completely unreadable. She had no way of knowing if the next words out of his mouth would be the truth. It unnerved her. She'd trusted him so far, but at the moment, she wasn't so sure.

"His life."

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Fury gave a barely-there smile, walking closer to her. "If you are asking me if we're going to make a deal with an evil scientist, the answer is… not yet." Her heart beat faster, but he wasn't done, walking around her now as she stood like a statue with her arms crossed in front of her. "These people aren't stupid Ms. Romanoff, once they realize we're not going to kill them and that we need them, they start milking us for all we're worth." He stopped for a moment in front of her, meeting her glare straight-up before he continued on his trek around her. "But we're not stupid either. We're never going to let him go as part of a deal, if that's what you're afraid of."

Partially, yes, that's what was going through her head right now. His words were reassuring, but still, she wasn't all too sure.

"But the good doctor isn't going to be too forthcoming if we treat him badly either, so, we compromise."

She raised an eyebrow almost to her hairline, lips pursed. "Compromise how, exactly?"

He stood in front of her again, scrutinizing her with his eye, looking down at her in her black cargo pants and combat boots, grey T-Shirt today, sporting -more proudly than she'll ever admit- the SHIELD eagle on the sleeves. "We'll worry about that." She scoffed, ready to reply but he cut her off. "My priority right now is you."

Her jaw clicked. He'd caught her off guard. He found that less amusing when it had something to do with her… 'feeling'.

"Don't look so surprised. We have plenty of other people on the list to go after, but we all know why he was top 3."

Natasha looked back at him with a blank expression. "He has extensive knowledge on the-" She tried, but he was having none of it. He waved her off and walked towards his desk.

"Yeah yeah yeah." It bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He knew that what she'd had to go through was enough to have anyone locked in a mental asylum, her doctors had given him the long list of possible disorders she might be suffering from due to her… abuse. Yet she acted so normal and businesslike and so it took moments like these to remind him that she probably wasn't all right. Moments when he showed an inkling of care for her wellbeing and she scrunched up her face as if she didn't understand what was happening. And hey, it wasn't as if he was giving out hugs or anything like that. But he didn't mind letting her know he was on her side. She came to them for freedom and a fresh start. He'd been ready to shoot her but Barton -the pain in the ass-had reminded him that the last time he'd given someone a second chance, it had turned out pretty well. After more than three months he was convinced that she was turning for good, ashamed of her crimes and looking to atone for her sins. Though he knew there was something else, something he just couldn't quite put his finger on, but something that had driven her to better herself. Whatever it was, she hid it very well, although a little less today, for some reason.

He sighed, rounding his desk and sitting down on the leather chair. Either way he hoped that getting some of her own mind back would help her personal recovery, not just her ability to perform in the field. "Doctor Pchelintsov is down in the labs explaining to the medical staff the procedures to program and reverse main triggers. I suggest you go down there and listen in, see if you're ready to be hooked up to machines again."

Her right eyebrow rose slightly, arms still crossed in front of her. "Just like that?" She couldn't believe that the man was simply giving all the information away, she wanted to know what they were giving him in return.

Fury only shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "Like I said, you let us worry about that, and you, worry about…" a pause, looking intently into her eyes with his only good one. "You."

It wasn't menacing or dismissive, it was with concern, and again he watched that blank and perplexed expression cross her face before she schooled her features. He resisted the urge to sigh again and continued. "Although he's holding out on us on the 'memory' part of his research until further notice." He saw the wheels turning in her head and he cut her off short. "And I don't think you can do much about it right now either." She looked at him with an incredulous expression, mouth open to protest but again, he was faster. "As much as we hate it, we have to admit to the fact that this one man has your mind, and consequently, your life, in his hands." She fumed, and he felt a pang of guilt in his gut. "So it might not be a good idea to go pissing him off."

She held herself tight as a rubber band ready to snap but relented. He was right. And yes, she hated it, but he was right. The man was smart and she was still learning how much and how good of a man he actually was, because even if he wouldn't tell her what deal he's struck with the scientist, she felt oddly at peace with it. The Red Room had trained her to trust her instincts, but the instincts they'd taught her to have. Yasha had taught her that there was more to her instinct than that and right now they were calm, like when she was with Clint or dreaming of Yasha.

She startled slightly. She'd remembered something else about Yasha. And Fury was looking at her with a curious expression.

"I'll let you know how it goes." She said quickly and left his office, leaving him to shake his head lightly and get back to work.


"It'll be all right." Clint said as he jumped over a fallen branch.

They were walking around the grounds again, having left the gardens a bit way back and now treading through the trees to get to the river on the other side of the little forest surrounding the Triskelion. She was simply walking and slowly moving over the difficult patches, but Clint… well, one thing she'd learned about Clint in the last few months was that he had a lot of energy, a lot. He burned it off at the gym or climbing the vents in the building usually, but today he'd been busy, what with the mission this morning and then her little break down this afternoon (which she was glad he hadn't brought up) and then overseeing the doctor's arrival, and they'd just had sandwiches in the cafeteria. She'd had a bottle of water and Clint had had a damn juice box, slurping on the straw at the end and everything, he was clearly restless and so he was now jumping over holes and stumps and trying to stay calm for her benefit, but not really succeeding. She was getting used to it, to him and his eccentricities. They were walking in the dark towards the water and he was jumping around like a damn squirrel. But she wasn't about to say anything, nope, he put up with a lot of crap from her, she owed him the same courtesy.

"I guess."

Usually they'd said their good byes by now, it was really late. She was too wound up, it had been a long day and after hearing all Pchelintsov had to say it was worse, so he'd stayed a bit longer. She'd insisted she was fine, that she could eat dinner herself, but he didn't trust her, knew her for skipping meals and she hadn't had lunch, so he'd walked her to the cafeteria. She had no idea where he went off to everyday, where he lived or anything, but she didn't pry. He hadn't told her too much about his current life, opting to talk about his past. She guessed it was more relatable to discuss that time in his past than his present life which she probably wouldn't get. She wondered if he didn't talk about it because maybe she'd learn soon enough what became of people who switched sides. She had no idea of it was all good, but he seemed pretty happy with his life. He'd said he was glad he'd deiced to fight for the good guys, and wouldn't have what he had now otherwise. He looked so happy, if she'd had to guess, she'd say he had someone he loved, someone he went home to every night, or at least when he wasn't out on missions. She wondered if she could ever have that look on her face, she wondered if whatever he was doing with his life now was something she would have in her future. Typically, she shut that thought down pretty quick, she felt a hard stab of guilt and scoffed at herself for thinking she would ever be worth anything like that.

Today though, it was somehow worse. She gulped and pressed a hand to her chest, the pain that shot through her was much worse, with the fresh image of her baby in her mind, she felt her heart speed up and her breath catch. Everything made sense.

"Nat?" Clint turned around when he realized she'd stopped following and saw her standing there in between two trees with a hand on her chest, barely illuminated by the moon and the bright lights of the building. "Nat?" He walked back towards her and tried getting her attention, but she was staring straight ahead again, that horrible far-away look back in her eyes and he remembered how her eyes looked filled with tears and red with pain this morning and he never wanted to see that again, never in his life. "Nat?" He placed his hands on her forearms and shook her a little, trying to get her attention.

Everything made sense, everything, everything made sense… little eyes dropping with sleep as she suckled and fed contently… it all, it all made sense... she needed to be better, someone worthy. It had been so difficult to remember why, why, why was she doing this? Risking her life like this? Not only could Clint have killed her instead of bringing her in, they Red Room could have caught her before that, but she'd ran, she'd ran and ran and she wanted to be better but she couldn't remember what had made her think that, why she'd changed her mind, couldn't remember why it was so important. There had just been this… driving force in her veins, and she just knew she couldn't be that person anymore and now she knew why. Rosebud mouth and button nose and therein lay the answer to every question she had ever asked herself or would ever ask again.

"Nat, come on, don't do this to me again."

She looked up at him and he was all blurry, but oh wait, those were the tears in her eyes and damn it! How many times was she going to do this in front of Clint? The poor man was freaking out.

"Hey, it's ok, it's all right." He spoke softly as more tears rushed unbidden from her eyes. He could tell now she was ashamed of crying again and she brought one hand up to cover herself while she tried to pull herself together. He slowly led her to sit down on the ground, leaning against a tree and crouched in front of her, holding her left hand with both of his when she lifted her right to cover her eyes. "Nat, it's all right if you need to cry, you know I'm never gonna judge you or anything. I cry a lot too, I'm actually just waiting for you to get a little more settled in before I start crying all over you too." That got a chuckle out of her and he smiled, taking her other hand too so she wasn't hiding. "I'm a mess too, it kinda comes with the territory."

She sniffled and chuckled again, looking up at him. "Yeah?"

Clint nodded. "Yeah, you can't live the life you've lived and not expect to have some side effects or carry-over." He rubbed his thumbs over her hands in what he hopped was a soothing gesture. "I mean, you've been doing so well these last few months, something was bound to come up, it always does. But you'll work through this stuff, one thing at a time." She sniffled again and swallowed, nodding. "Was it… was it the remembering thing or the procedure thing?"

She took a deep breath, wondering what to say. She didn't want to lie, but maybe he'd want to know more? But she didn't want to lie, not to Clint. "The remembering thing." Her voice sounded small and broken. She hated it.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She thought about it for a second, but cleared her throat and answered no. She'd already decided that letting him in on this wasn't an option right now. Maybe one day. Maybe when she found her, if she found her. But what if she did? She could never hope to get close to her, never in a million years. Not only did she probably have a home of her own, but she could never taint her with this horrible life she led. Yes, she was here to be different, to change, to… redeem herself… but God, what was she hoping to accomplish? There were some crimes that she couldn't even remember committing! No, she couldn't do that to her, she couldn't walk into her life and ruin it. She couldn't even imagine it, with all the blood in her hands, all the blood she'd spilled, all the blood she could still see… no, no, how could she let her baby see that? She was better off, she hoped so badly that she had a mom, a real mom, someone who could actually be her mom. Not this monster who'd killed just to follow orders, just to save her own life. No. But she'd find her, she'd find her and make sure she was all right. But that was it.

Mind made up, her tears stopped and Clint was still watching her intently, still rubbing her hands softly, supporting her silently. She met his eyes, giving him a small smile. "So, you're a mess too?"

Clint chuckled, seeing her attempt at changing the subject and letting her, knowing she really didn't want to talk about what she remembered this afternoon. "Yeah, took me years to work through most of it and stop being beaten by it all, like PTSD and all that crap. Still got some stuff, I mean, it'll never go away, but it does get better." He said the words as if they were a promise. "Specially the self-deprecating crap." Her eyes snapped up and stared at him wide-eyes. He looked back at her with a knowing look. "It's the worst, and the hardest to work through." Her lips parted in almost shock and he tried to lighten the mood a little, knowing he hit a sore spot. "I still put a dollar in the jar whenever I think about myself that way."

She looked down, no wanting to meet his gaze, staring at their hands now. She loved how he held her hands, how… nice it felt. It was so different, this show of affection. Usually she touched a man's hand to show interest or rub on some drug or powder that would knock him unconscious or something. Or they would touch her hands to show dominance or lust or to pull her someplace… Either way it wasn't ideal. But the way Clint held her hands, it was so caring, so sweet. And she didn't have that feeling of him doing it because he wanted something out of her. He seemed to genially do it because he cared. She could even say she didn't feel any underlined want or lust. He just never looked or talked to her that way. She knew it meant he cared about her as a friend, for real, no underlined agenda… and that simply baffled her. What had she done to deserve something like this?

Which brought her to what she'd been trying not to think about. Self-deprecating crap. Was it really just crap? She doubted it… It wasn't crap when it was true. "Yeah." She whispered to herself and kept avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah." Clint whispered back, knowing it was useless to get into it now. It was all a bit too fresh for her. She needed to get out and do some good, hands on, not just research and giving out details and information. He knew how that felt, and knew that he could get into it with her more once she got to kill some of the bastards herself. Which brought him to another topic, the one they'd been out here discussing to begin with. "Are you really ok with everything tomorrow?"

"Yeah." She took a deep breath. No, she wasn't, not really. The procedure the doctor had described to the medics while she listened and watched through one-way glass sounded a lot like being back in the Red Room in the labs being programmed for her next assignment, or being little and having the first triggers programmed in and tested, and being strapped down to damn tables and chairs and she closed her eyes, trying to push away the images. "Maybe."

"I'll go with you if you want."

Natasha shook her head, opening her eyes and looking at him with a determined look in her eyes. "I know I can do this."

"I have no doubt about it, but you don't have to do it alone."

She swallowed hard and looked to the side. She felt so vulnerable, and yet so open when she was with him. He could see right through her somehow, and she found she could barely keep her walls up around him. He was just there, always, not letting her go through this alone and she didn't know what she would do without him. So tomorrow, when she had to undergo that procedure, where she knew she might freak, yeah, she might really want him close by.

"Maybe just be outside?" Her voice sounded so small asking, but she felt it was ok, because he'd never ridiculed her for it.

"Deal. Now let's head back inside, it's starting to snow and I can't feel my toes."


No Russian this time. Please let me know what you think of the chapter. Thank you for your feedback!