Hello everyone, I know I have been gone for a while, and I do apologize, but things have been kind of weird and hectic and rough in my life. But I finally have a computer again so yay, I can write again. And I guess that's the only thing that matters. I hope you're still interested in this story, I've never forgotten about it, I still have it all in my head and in notebooks, and finally I can write it down and show you. This chapter was written a bit hastily because I was not only excited to be writing again but also because I was so eager to give you an update. But rest assured, it gets better from here on out.
She was cold, her feet were freezing, and looking down she noticed polished wood under her bare feet. I've been here before, was her first thought. And not just physically, but… somehow... this moment, she'd just been in it before. De ja vu. Where am I? A long hall, with closed doors on each side. White walls, and she expected to hear music, piano as she practiced, but no, she wasn't at the Bolshoi, of that she was sure. She took a step forward and everything started to spin. Oh, she was dreaming. She ignored the off-kilter feeling and ran.
Running… always running it seemed.
First through a long hall, almost endless. A flash of light and she was running through tall grass, a hand clasped tightly in her own. She blinked and she was running though a market place. And then a square, small but crowded, warm weather getting colder as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Darker now and she was turning corners and running as fast as her legs and body would carry her. But she was so tired, out of breath but she kept running. She didn't want a fight, she'd done everything possible to avoid one for months now and she just couldn't anymore, she was too weak, tired, so tired and everything hurt and she couldn't risk a confrontation. She threw them off her trail soon enough and shot down another, one still hot on her heels, and she had a feeling she knew who it was. She tried to run faster and spots were starting to appear in the corners of her vision, but she was expertly cornered soon enough.
She panted and tried to catch her breath as quietly as possible, a hand on her aching back. Her sister looked down at her with wide eyes - Natalya had always been the shorter of the lot, but she'd never let that stop her. Yelena's ice blue eyes were incredulous, the gun pointing down to the floor now instead of at her head like a few seconds ago. She'd never seen Yelena do that, lower her gun from a target. "What have you done?" Her voice was a disbelieving whisper.
She didn't want to kill Yelena. She'd never been an ally, but not exactly an enemy either. Not like the other girls who saw her as a threat and tried to either outright kill her or outdo her in missions, which consequently got them killed just as well. No, Yelena stayed out of the way and tried to survive, and had somehow succeeded so far. By following orders and working hard, she'd made it this far and the Red Room's indoctrination on competitiveness had somehow rolled off her. Still though, if she were ordered to kill her, she would do so without blinking. She'd been ready to do so, a moment ago, she'd seen in it in her eyes, she knew she couldn't beat Natalya in a fight, but she'd stopped upon seeing her bulging mid-section.
"Is this real?" Yelena's voice was still in a whisper, shock all over her features.
Natalya could only look intently at her, tracing her every move and trying to come up with an escape plan. It didn't look good. She'd run out of ammo a couple of blocks away, thought she still held the gun tight in her hand. But Yelena was smart and knew how to count, she knew Natalya didn't have any bullets left. She couldn't fight, not exactly, there wasn't really a way to protect her belly in a fight. Stalling might be her only chance, wait and hope against hope that Yasha would make it to her in time. So she stood, watching as Yelena processed the image of a blond Natalya, black leggings only to her knees, white trainers and a grey sweat shirt stretched to its seams over her round belly. She fit perfectly with the mass really, by the square they were walking through to get to their next stop.
Yelena couldn't look away. If it weren't for Natalya's blue eyes, the same hardened blue eyes she'd seen since she was 7 years old, she would have thought she had the wrong person. "How is this possible?"
Natalya didn't answer, only stared at Yelena with a passive and calm façade, relaxed shoulders and posture. Well, as much as she could, with the heavy weight in her middle. She still had the gun in a tight grip, knowing that at the very least she could head-but her with it if the opportunity arose.
Yelena continued to stare, and Natalya stared back, unwavering, but it wasn't long until Yelena came to her senses and lifted the gun again, if only slightly, pointing at her knees now instead of the ground. "I don't know what's happening, but you have to come back with me."
"No." Her answer was firm and left no room for discussion, which was probably contradicting to the 'stalling' plan, but the thought alone sent shivers down her spine.
Yelena shook her head. "You're not safe out here, you know the West has been infiltrating cities like these. If they find out who you are, they'll stop at nothing to get you." Her eyes drifted down, still in awe. "Specially with a prize like that."
Natalya shook her head. Yelena was still just a puppet who believed everything they told her, she refused to see the horrors of the Red Room, preferring to stay in blissful denial. "They'll take her, they'll take her and kill her soul." Natalya's hands shook now with the thought. "They'll torture her and train her and…" Memories flooded her mind, the med-beds, the chambers, the restrains, the knives and whips, Madam, her dead sisters, Ivan. "And turn her into one of us."
Yelena looked earnestly into her eyes, as if the world was a beautiful white and Natalya was painting it red. "Why do you say that as if it's a bad thing?"
"Stop pretending it's a GOOD THING!" Her cry was half emotion, half hoping she was giving Yasha a signal, hoping he was close by.
"Natalya, come on, stop your theatrics, you know that child will be raised right, to serve the mother land, to fight for-"
"No!" Her voice shook with barely restrained anger. No. That would never happen, never, her child would never suffer her fate. "No, Yelena, no. Stop, stop pretending. Stop saying it's all right, it's not! We're human beings! They have no right!" She never thought she'd have the chance to voice her new thoughts to any of her sisters, to try and convince them of what she had found out to be true. The response was pretty much what she expected. A blank, confused look.
"Natalya, we serve the mother land." Yelena tried again, as if speaking to a small child, wondering what her sister had been through outside of their home for so long, what with an impossible pregnant stomach and strange, confused thoughts.
"Yelena," Natalya stepped closer, suddenly desperate to make her see, make her understand, save her, like Yasha and her had saved each other. "The things they do, they're just not right." Yelena continued to point the gun at her knees, but she wasn't gripping it as tightly, allowing Natalya's proximity, eyes wide, trained on her sister. "The things they've done, the pain we've felt, we shouldn't have felt that, ever." Natalya placed the hand not holding the gun on her sister's shoulder, squeezing lightly, trying to make her see, not even planning an attack now that she was so close, just wanting to make her see. "We were just children, they had no right to touch us."
Yelena's eyes harden, her posture stiffening. "It was part of the training Natalya, you know that! All of it was!"
She shook her head, softening her hand on her shoulder, eyes showing as much emotion as she could. "No, Yelena, it wasn't, you know that."
Yelena shook her head, refusing to even acknowledge the possibility, her carefully constructed fantasy of righteousness being challenged for the very first time. But deep down she knew, she knew, which is why it was all crumbling so fast. So she denied it with a passion. "Nataly stop. Your baby will be safe with Madam, she will take care of her like she always took care of us, she will-"
"No-"
"Natalya, listen,"
"No."
"You know that's just not true, you know they took us in when-"
"We would have been better off in the orphanages, on the streets!"
"How can you say that! After everything they've done for-"
"To! To! Yelena, everything they've done TO us!"
"Natalya Stop! Stop this nonsense! You have to come home! Look at you! You need hel-"
The shot that ran out through the air was immediately followed by a red hot spray of blood across her face as Yelena crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. Natalya closed her eyes, her heart clenching in her chest, a subtle pain twisting inside. For a split second she wondered if something was wrong with her baby again, but no, it was deep inside, it was a feeling. Pain, because her sister was gone, and she hadn't been able to help her. That hurt, and she hadn't known she'd cared that much. But then again, there were many things she'd been discovering about her self lately.
Yasha came up beside her quickly, gun still held tight in his grip, and she opened her eyes to meet his. His were worried, a blue-grey swirl of emotions, a frown as he looked at her and when he reached up to cup her face and stroke her cheek with his thumb, she realized why. A tear had run down her face. That was new too.
She woke up with a start, as she often did, eyes opening wide to focus on the ceiling above. No tears or screams this time for a change. Maybe she'd exhausted herself enough, or maybe she hadn't slept deep enough the second time around.
She turned to the clock on the nightstand and saw that her internal clock had effectively woken her up with enough time to shower and get some breakfast before heading down to the labs. No time to ponder on the new memory running through her mind, on her fallen sisters, all gone now, and they never got to see the world for what it was, the good or the bad. Nothing but what they were taught, and even the most vicious couldn't be blamed for her actions.
Natalya closed her eyes and gave herself 60 seconds. 60 seconds to remember them, to mourn them, to feel for them. 60 seconds to imagine away the harsh reality that had been and see only their sweet faces. Even the ones that had tried to plot her death when she'd been making her way to the top. They were the ones that had suffered the most under the Red Room, to have become so hardened. 60 seconds and she opened her eyes with a bit of a sting behind them. Not enough to cry, but enough to know she had cared for them, one way or another. Every single one of them.
It wasn't their fault.
She sighed and sat up, peering over the bed to see Clint asleep on the floor, mouth open in soft snores and drooling, and her lips tipped ever so slightly at the ridiculous sight, before she got a hold of herself and called on his name to wake him up. The next half hour taught her how difficult of a feat that was.
After they got back from their walk last night, he'd insisted he had a lot of paperwork to do and she could sleep while he worked on them on her desk. She'd known he was just using pretexts to watch over her sleep, she'd obviously scared him that afternoon, and she'd let him, and had been glad for it a few hours later when she'd woken up screaming, her body burning from phantom shocks and tiny rose bud lips suckling on her breast. He'd calmed her down, breathing in and out and she'd fallen back asleep after a while, and it seemed he'd succumbed at some point as well, with her extra pillow under his head and his jacket over him. Good thing she slept with the heater on full blast. She hated the cold, reminded her of too many bad things.
She couldn't help the warm feeling in her chest at his care for her, looking after her sleep and staying close by. She didn't know why he did it, why he wanted to, knew she didn't deserve it and shouldn't need it. But she was glad that he was here anyway.
Back to waking him up though, she called on his name and he snorted and closed his mouth, rolling over to the other side and settling again, snoring once more. Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. Was he serious?
She called him again, louder and firmer. He didn't rouse at all this time and continued snoring, louder. She frowned and hesitated. Maybe she wasn't supposed to wake him? Was that impolite? Was he upset? She had kept him up last night, and who knew what time he settled in. Maybe she should let him sleep? There was still some time. Maybe it wasn't right to bother a friend that had helped you thought the night? But they had to go soon. Maybe he'd wake up on his own?
She decided she'd shower and get ready and wait for him to wake up. So she went about her routine and dried her hair at the end, when she was already dressed and her teeth were brushed and her make up done, thinking that the noise of the hair dryer would surely wake him and that she'd now given him a little extra time to rouse by himself.
She'd thought wrong.
She exited the bathroom and was met by the same loud snores, completely unperturbed by the noise or the time passed or the fact that they had to leave in about 8 minutes if they wanted to eat breakfast before heading to the labs. She personally didn't think she'd be able to keep anything down, but doctor's orders, she needed to be well fed beforehand.
She scoffed at the absurdity of it. How was it possible for someone to sleep that deeply and undisturbed in their line of work? How did this man fare in combat situations and missions? It was ridiculous, she could have killed him about 10 times by now. She thought maybe he trusted her enough to let his guard down that much around her, but still.
"Clint!"
Nothing.
She thought about letting him sleep through breakfast. But no, the man was a downright terror when he was hungry.
"CLINT!"
He groaned a little and she thought he'd finally woken, but he just pulled the jacket higher and covered his head and settled again.
She huffed a determined breath and stalked over to him. To hell with never forcefully rousing a trained operative, a lesson taught since she could remember because you never knew how someone could react. But this was just absurd.
She bent over slightly and pulled the jacket away from him, but again, he groaned and even rolled over onto his belly, ready to settle once more and continue sleeping. He was showing her his back for heaven's sake! How had this man survived this long!?
She'd had enough and that ugly temper she hardly ever showed reared its ugly head and she grabbed a tight hold of his arm and yanked. "CLINT!"
He snorted and blearily opened his eyes. "Wha-? What?" He blinked, trying to understand his surroundings. "-m awake, what's….?" He tried to roll onto his back but his arms and legs weren't keeping up with the whole being awake thing either. He blinked again, groggily. "…mm awake." He assured in a hoarse, sleepy voice.
They'd asked her if she would like to lay down but she said no. She felt a bit more in control if she could quickly spring to her feet. Although she knew it was useless. If they decided to use the triggers against her it didn't matter if she was sitting or laying down, she'd be unable to protect herself.
She slowly sat down watching the doctors move around her getting everything ready. She took a deep, steady breath and tried to calm herself. She did it slowly and they didn't notice her. She was glad for it, she couldn't let them see how much this was scaring her. She hated it, hated being scared but she knew it was just PTSD, perfectly normal reaction, Clint had told her so last night, he'd said it was normal to be nervous about doctors and labs after spending most of her life prodded and basically tortured by doctors in labs. She tried to focus on the night before to get her mind off it. Walking and breathing in the cold, the safety in their steps, the sound of the rushing wind, and right now she could her the machines turning on, so she thought about the sunrise, she hadn't been up early enough to see it this morning, and a doctor was typing and distracting herself wasn't working anymore. Fury's eyepatch, the man looked like a damn pirate, yet the bald head and all the leather gave him an aura of fear and respect and the woman doctor was putting the jell-glue thing on the pasties that went on her head and- Fuck.
She hid the shaking of her hands pretty well, and her breathing was completely under control. Inside though, she was falling apart. She was terrified, scared out of her mind, and she tried to push the anxiety down and run the mantra though her head that she was in the right place, that she was in safe hands, that Fury and Clint were outside looking in and so these doctors couldn't be tying anything funny. Her heart hammered almost uncontrollably and she fought to slow herself down, knowing that soon they'd attach the monitors to her and her worry would be for the world to see. But her stomach was rolling. What if they took it all away? She'd made progress, she knew that, she could remember so much now. And her baby, she could remember her baby, she just did, just yesterday afternoon, and now thinking about it, she'd been loud and maybe they'd heard her break down, maybe they knew? Now here they were, and her mind raced. What if it was all a trick? Maybe they'd figured it out and were going to wipe her again? Maybe they could see she was remembering things and were setting all of this up to take it away, take it all away, take her baby away, and she sprang from the chair, startling the doctors who were just about to attach the wires on her head.
They stared at her, and she realized her breathing had picked up against her will and she stood in the middle of the lab with wide eyes trying to look completely normal, as normal as she could while standing near the IV pole, ready to swing it at anyone who came to force her down on the chair. Which she knew wasn't going to happen. PTSD, that was all it was, it was completely normal, but shit, that wasn't helping at all right now, knowing what it was didn't take the effect away. She couldn't quite separate the reality from what her panic was telling her. What the Fuck was happening to her? Why was she so out of sorts lately? Why was she losing control of herself and one thing was to do it in front of Clint in the privacy of her room, but now she stood in a lab being stared at by doctors who were too afraid to approach her. But maybe it wasn't them. What if Pchelintsov had given them the wrong procedure? The wrong information. He certainly had the brains-
"Want some company?"
She snapped her head up at the voice and tension left her body in a wave and she had the strangest urge to jump into him. Clint only smiled at her and took her hand. "Actually, to be fair, I just need your help with something. I was thinking about getting pizza for lunch and thought I could definitely eat at least 6 slices but then…" And he kept rambling and she wasn't exactly sure what he was even talking about but he'd put her hand on his chest and she was following his breathing, and she was calm now, breathing normally and she was even sure her heartbeat had calmed down in answer to his calm beat. "…that vegetable monstrosity you like, but fine, I'll order half and half if you eat the onions."
She came back to herself suddenly and started up at him confused. "Huh?"
He laughed lightly and squeezed her hand before letting it go. "Wanna get some pizza after you're done here?"
Fury watched intently as Natasha sat back down, Clint sitting nearby as he rambled on about pizza of all things. PTSD had been at the top of the list of possible disorders, but he hadn't seen any indications of it until now, and judging by the way Clint handled it, it wasn't the first time. He had to get Coulson to update him more on Romanoff. Maybe she wasn't ready to be put in the field as soon as she got control of her own mind, as he'd originally planned. He knew she'd want to get out there and make good use of herself as soon as possible, but maybe she wasn't ready?
On the other hand, she seemed to do remarkably well with Barton. Maybe he could team them up for a bit. Barton would hate having to work with someone else, it'll take a lot to convince him, that's what Phil was for. Yeah, if she came out of this ok he was going to team them up and let Coulson handle them. He had enough on his plate as it was.
"Yeah? What did he do then?"
She came to sharply but kept her eyes closed and breathing even as she assessed the situation around her. She was on a bed, and machines were beeping, and the smell was irrevocably of a hospital or lab and her heart leapt for a moment, but no, it was ok, there she was, she could remember her, could still remember her baby's beautiful eyes looking up at her and feeding happily. She had a massive headache though, her temples ached and she was afraid to open her eyes. She could also hear Clint having a one-sided conversation, so she deduced he was on the phone. She decided to brace herself and open her eyes. She groaned at the white light and shut them again.
"I gotta go, I'll see you soon."
She tried again, taking a deep breath and opening her eyes slower this time, squinting slightly at the light and forcing herself to adjust until she could make out the medical room and Clint hovering over her. "Wakey-Wakey."
"Mmm…" She swallowed and tried again. "What?"
"You passed out, evil science guy said it might happen, remember?"
It slowly came back to her, the doctors around her as they said the trigger, loosing complete mobility and then watching from inside herself but unable to respond, then they waited for her brain activity to settle, watching the monitors until they had the desired reading and more words, more triggers, on and on, then injections, that froze her blood and more waiting and more readings and then, nothing.
"Did it work?"
Clint shifted uncomfortably. "Only one way to find out."
She gulped audibly, knowing he was right. She gathered her wits about herself and sat up in the hospital bed, still fully clothed and could tell she'd only been out for a couple of hours at the most. Clint sensed her intentions and frowned. "You sure you up for this right now, you just went through-"
"Clint, I need to know." She cut him off. "I can't live like this anymore, I need to know, I need to move on from this, I need this to work, right now." She needed to find her baby girl, make sure she was all right, that they didn't have her, that they'd succeeded. She needed to know and she never would if she couldn't at least leave the building without fear of loosing herself. "Any sharp objects around?" She asked only half-joking. She wasn't sure what her reaction would be.
Clint resigned himself and looked down, clenching his hands at his sides. He smirked devilishly. "Even if there weren't, would I have a fighting chance?"
Natasha tried to laugh but her fingers were starting to tremble with nervousness, and real fear that she'd hurt him.
"Ready?" Without preamble, Clint opened the file that was at her bedside.
She stared for a moment.
"No."
Clint looked up at her, eyes open and trusting, and that twisted her insides. How could they all just… Care so much? So fucking much, for a person who would've killed them on command just a few months ago?
"Just do it." She looked away from his imploring eyes, gulping down the feelings that wanted to rush to the surface.
"Home." She took a deep shuddering breath, instantly afraid and her mind flashed to all the times they'd stared her down and said that one simple word that put her in her place.
"Order." She gulped, she was shaking in fear. She hated this, she hated this, hated how no matter what she did, how much she fought, a few words and she'd be ready to obey.
"One." It was strange, hearing it in English, it was almost always delivered in Russian. Never had she heard it in such a gentle and concerned tone either.
"Mother." Her hands were trembling so hard she had to lace her fingers together and grip tightly, but it didn't help.
"Nine." She clenched her eyes shut.
"Lighting."
"Wrench."
"Twenty-eight." She was breathing fast, too fast.
"Break."
"Fire."
She held her breath. Her mind was racing.
"Nat?" His concerned voice snapped her out of it and she was back in the hospital room, and she could hear her own erratic heartbeat in the monitors, beeping almost out of control. Which was wrong because once she was delivered the triggers her whole body practically shut down, it went cool and placid, like a puppet waiting for the puppeteer to star pulling the strings.
She opened her eyes and laughed. She looked at Clint, she actually turned around on he own and looked at Clint, and laughed. He stared at her nervously, trying to decide whether he should be worried or not. She was laughing but now he realized she was half crying, and he put the folder down and gathered her shaking form in his arms, and she hugged him back, her arms wrapped tightly around him and her fingers digging into his shirt with a vengeance, holding on for dear life as she laughed and cried in relief.
He smiled, he smiled wide as he held her tight, his eyes prickling with emotion and he took a deep breath. This was good, this was very, very good. This was a weight off her shoulders and a huge step towards her recovery. He could see it so much closer now, with the way she shook in his arms with happiness and relief. Her journey had just begun but with this… With this she could reach far higher than she ever thought possible. She was meant for great things in life, he could feel it.
"Hell of a Christmas gift, right?"
His words didn't really register for a moment, but then they did and she let out another laugh. "We didn't really care for that, but… yeah." She laughed again and he held her tighter.
She clung to him, her whole body still shaking with a relief she couldn't put into words. "It's not a big deal where I come from."
"Doesn't matter, here it's a huge deal and it's tomorrow, but I hope you don't mind if I give you your gift today." She pulled away with wide eyes and stared at him incredulously as he picked up a little wrapped box from the table besides her next to the folder that she hadn't noticed before and handed it to her. It was small, a long, black velvet box with a red bow on it. "I'm leaving tonight and I'm not going to be back until next week. 'Cause Christmas is a big deal around here and I got some important people waiting for me at home." She was listening but still staring at the box, afraid to tousle it and ruin whatever could be inside. "Nat?"
She looked up at his prodding tone, and stared at him with wide eyes.
Clint's smile fell. "Please don't tell me you've never gotten a gift before."
She looked down, a little ashamed. Had she? "I- I don't remember." She really couldn't remember. But she doubted it. Unless Yasha… No, it would have been too risky, for him to give her any sort of keepsake, too dangerous if anyone ever saw or found it and asked. Maybe while they were on the run though? She honestly didn't know. All she did know was that the feeling blossoming in her heart was beautiful, she was giddy with it, with the excitement of the gesture and what could be inside it, and so touched.
Clint looked away, a twitch in his fingers and she wondered why he was suddenly mad. Had she done something wrong? Maybe she should have opened it sooner? She did so quickly, afraid she had upset him and unwrapped the bow and opened the box, an instant smile shining on her face and she gently reached with her finger and traced the necklace, touching the delicate chain and the tiny arrow hanging from it, silver and shiny and she couldn't stop smiling. She looked up and Clint was beaming at her, and she realized he hadn't been mad at her, but at the implication that this was the first gift she'd ever received. She looked back down at the necklace and smiled wider. Well, she might not remember if she'd had other gifts before, but this was her first gift from her new life, and she loved it. She told him so and he looked so proud, puffed out his chest and took the necklace out of the box, and she gathered her long curls and turned slightly so he could clasp it around her neck.
"These important people that I was telling you about? They also have one of these. And I gotta go away for a few days, and I wish I could take you with me but the doctors say you need to recover for a couple more days, stay away from heavy stimulants and try to rest and relax." She turned to face him again and touched the arrow on the hollow of her throat and smiled again. She was part of the 'important people' in his life. Her hear fluttered again and she couldn't keep the smile down. She just felt so… free.
Clint seemed to know where her mind was and smiled at her. He was glad she'd caught on, because as far as he was concerned, she was his family now too. Which is why he hated to leave her, but he really didn't have a choice.
"I really have to go, but I need you to know that you're gonna be all right."
She thought about that for a minute. All right? She took a deep breath, remembering her little girl and now with the knowledge that she could soon go after her, yeah she was all right, really, for now.
"Yeah, yes, I'll be fine." She smiled sincerely at him and he truly felt she would be. So he spent Christmas with his important people and came back a few days later and thought he'd find her in her quarters, but instead he's called to Coulson's office and he finds her sitting in the chair he'd spent years making a good butt print on, but she seems comfortable so he sits next to her, and on the other side of the desk sits Coulson with a file in his hands.
Her expression is unreadable and cold and he worries for a moment, but he chalks it off as being in the presence of another agent and he's proven correctly when they're dismissed and just outside the office she smiles tentatively at him, but with a new fire in her eyes. They've just been told she has the go-ahead directly from Fury and Coulson was pleasantly surprised when he had no complaints to being paired off with her for her probationary period. They already have a mission scheduled for tonight and although she knows and fully understand that they'll only be doing simple and low-profile gigs while they learn to trust her and her new hold of her mind, it's still a step in the right direction and she couldn't be happier.
He loves the enthusiasm in her eyes and can't help but fuel the fire. "Ready to raise a little hell?"
She gives a low, throaty laugh and Coulson just knows he's going to be cleaning up after them for as long as this 'partnership' lasts.
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think! Next Chapter will be up next week!
