Crossing Paths
The first time she sees her since walking out of that faded brick brownstone in Brooklyn that cold and snowy night, it's completely by happenstance. Dottie had tracked down and followed a Russian businessman who funneled a lot of his criminally gotten cash into the Red Room to New York City. She was in the process of redirecting his money into accounts that would allow that money to be put to better use. Once that task was complete she would pay off the hooker meant to go to his hotel room and put an end to his miserable life. While she waited she took in the extravagant American city in the throws of the holiday season. As Dottie navigated her way down 5th Avenue she couldn't seem to stop her thoughts from drifting back to the last time she'd been in this city at this time of year. The girl's birthday would be in a few weeks. She would be five.
There was a giant ice rink set up in the middle of Rockefeller Center. It was ringed by clusters of people watching those actually on the ice. Dottie didn't normally pay the rink or the people much attention but as she walked past a very familiar sound made her look up. It was a laugh, one of pure and utter joy, followed by a familiar voice. Peggy.
Weaving her way through the crowd Dottie positioned herself to look out onto the ice, her blue eyed gaze scanning for the source of that laugh. When she found her, when she laid eyes on Peggy Carter, her heart stopped and her breath hitched. Not simply because of Peggy, but more so because of the tiny girl wobbling on white skates between Peggy and Angie. The little girl had on thick, warm looking black pants, a puffy white coat, and a little knitted hat that looked like a panda. Peeking out from under the hat were long red curls, her pale skin was flushed a soft pink from the chill, and her tiny mitten covered hands were held firmly by the two women on either side of her. She was laughing, a huge smile on her face, and pure delight shining in her blue-green eyes. The little girl radiated as much joy and happiness as Peggy and Angie did.
Then Peggy's beautiful smile faulted a little as her head looked up from watching her daughter, her sharp brown gaze searching, and Dottie knew it was time to move on. She never once regretted what she did, but seeing them, seeing her safe and sound and happy, a beautiful and joyful little girl leaning to play and have fun with her mothers, it eased some of the sting Dottie carried around in her heart.
The second time Dottie sees her she's investigating dance schools in Washington D.C. and is lurking backstage at a commonly used auditorium during a ballet recital. Again it's Peggy she notices first, sitting in the front row with Angie sitting beside her on her right, a young teenage boy to her left. To the left of the boy is the tall Englishman who use to drive Peggy around, Stark's man, Jarvis, and beside him a pale woman with long red hair. On stage near the center of the line of girls who looked to be between the ages of eight and ten was a girl with her long red hair in a ballerina's bun. She was a bit smaller than most of the other girls, but she was by far better than all of them.
For a full minute Dottie could feel anger bubbling in her chest. Peggy knew the kinds of training Red Room girls went through, how could she have allowed this! But as she continued to watch she could see that the girl was a natural. She also noticed that her flushed little face was not twisted in painful determination, but glowed with joy and concentration. She was dancing for fun. Dottie blinked. The girl danced because she enjoyed it, and because she was good at it, there was nothing else behind it, just enjoyment, enrichment. Dottie relaxed. She lingered a moment longer and then went back to what she was doing. This wasn't the dance school she was looking into, they would be using the space later on, Dottie had just wanted to be set up before then.
She'd meant to be long gone before the end of the recital but she misjudged her timing, wither by accident or on purpose she wasn't really sure. She was stepping out of the back room just as the herd of small girls came rushing off stage. On instinct she sought her out, she wasn't hard to miss with that hair. Dottie's Baba had hair like that when she was little, before the soldiers came, before the Red Room. Before she knew what she was doing Dottie had walked over to the girl, who'd broken away from her equally excited classmates to retrieve her water bottle. "You dance very well little one."
Natasha looked up, eyeing the woman carefully and only relaxing when she sees the name tag on her jacket that says she works here. "Thank you." She beams. "I practiced a lot for this one."
"It shows." Dottie says. "You're a natural."
From the wings a familiar British voice calls out over the roar of little girl chatter, "Natasha!"
The girl's face lits up as she turns away from the blonde woman to look for her mother. "Mummy!"
Dottie slips away, her heart pounding. What had she been thinking! If Peggy had seen her! Natasha. Peggy had given her a Russian name, and even though Dottie felt like she should be angry, she felt touched by the gesture. Natasha, born on Christmas, it was fitting. Natasha Carter. She liked it.
Dottie's in Panama hiding from the latest assassin sent to take her out of the game. She's toying with this one, amusing herself before she takes him out. It's embarrassing for her enemies really, she's getting older and yet time after time she bests the people they send after her. It's insulting to her, she knows they have better, they have Him, and yet she gets these lazy, sloppy, losers. She's sitting in a cafe near the window enjoying a bit of breakfast when her instincts cause her to turn towards the window. Narrowing her eyes Dottie scans the street beyond, only to have them go wide at the sight of a blazing red braid. She watches as the girl, she'd be seventeen now, used her school girl innocence to gain access to the building across the street.
Getting up from the table, her half eaten breakfast forgotten, Dottie makes her way outside. She goes to the back of the building the girl had talked her way into, and easily slipped inside. It was a government building from the looks of it, and Dottie couldn't help but wonder what was Natasha doing here. The answer set Dottie's blood to boil. She watched as Natasha obtained some documents, and then followed her out of the building and through the town to a hotel. She watched as Natasha handed over her scanning device to an older woman with dark hair and a clear military stink about her. What the hell! What was Peggy thinking!
The english style pub made Dottie's eyes roll. It was a bit cliche, the British expat spending her down time in a knock off substitutie for a place she'd find back home. Making her way towards the back corner, Dottie found Peggy easily. Slipping into the two person booth across from Peggy, she smiled. To anyone else it looked as if Peggy's response was that of a woman greeting an expected friend or acquaintance, but Dottie knew Peggy better than a lot of people, and she could see the shock her sudden appearance caused in the other woman.
"It's been a long time, Dottie." Peggy said softly, her dark eyes locked onto the woman across from her.
Dottie smiled that twisted little smile that was meant only for Peggy when she saw the way Peggy was taking her in. Two years ago she'd started wearing her hair short and red, and she wondered if Peggy could see Natasha in her. She had, despite trying not to, looked for herself in Natasha the rare handful of times she'd laid eyes on her. She'd convinced herself that she just wanted to make sure no one could look at the girl and discover she existed simply because they recognized her features in the child. "It has been." Dottie agreed. "We haven't seen each other face to face since the night I thought I could trust you."
Peggy blinked, her lips frowning a bit. She knew where this was leading, who this conversation was about, and it made her tense up. "You can trust me."
"I told you I didn't want her to be like me." Dottie lowered her voice, her anger lacing it with a threatening hiss. "And when I said I wanted her to be like you I didn't mean for you to turn her into a secret agent for your side. You were supposed to keep her safe, you were supposed to give her a better life than the ones we've lived."
"I have, Dottie." Peggy replied, her own voice laced with confusing and growing concern.
"Then why is she in Panama right now?" Dottie demanded.
"She isn't." Peggy answered honestly. "She's spending the semester in Europe in an intensive language program." She smiled. Peggy couldn't help but light up whenever she spoke of her daughter. Everything from her eyes to her voice radiated pride. "She has a remarkable gift for languages."
Now Dottie was the one who looked shocked. Peggy honestly had no idea. Slipping a burner phone from her pocket she accessed a collection of pictures and then slid it across the table to Peggy. "I know a training exercise when I see one, Peg. If you're not training to her be like us, someone else is."
Dottie had never in all her time 'studying' Peggy Carter ever seen the woman turn that shade of reddish purple before. It honestly scared the hell out of her, but it also left her with a sense of comfort because she knew deep down she'd done the right thing. Giving the girl to Peggy had been for the best. Peggy loved her, and would always look out for her. As she left the pub Dottie actually felt a small bit of pity for whomever was about to face Peggy Carter's warth.
The last time Dottie lays eyes on Natasha they're on the icy catwalk of a Siberin factory with one of Russian's piss poor attempts at creating a super soldier between them. They had entered the facility on opposite sides of the compound for totally different reasons. Each of them easily taking out any opposition to reaching their goals. That christmas so long ago Dottie had told Peggy the child's father was dead, but it hadn't been Dottie who'd killed him, it had been the man standing between her and Natasha. This upstart who thought he could take Alexei's place, who took pleasure in watching the life drain from him, was about to pay for his choices. Finally, after all this time Dottie would make him pay for his arrogance.
They could have both taken him down on their own, though neither would have walked away without injury, but working together made it a piece of cake. For several seconds after the fight is over both women stand slightly doubled over to catch their breaths. Dottie turns to look at Natasha and smiles, "You're not half bad for an American."
Natasha returns the smile. "You're not bad half bad yourself, for an old woman."
Dottie laughs. When they straighten up and face each other Natasha stares, and Dottie's amusement evaporates. "Is this the part where we fight each other, Agent Romanoff?"
"I know who you are." Natasha replies easily. "And I know you know Romanoff isn't my name."
"Ah." Dottie says softly, knowingly. "This isn't the part where we fight. This is the part where Agent Carter tells me she can help me get out? Offers me a chance to live a normal life? You truly are her daughter."
"This is the part where I say thank you." Natasha is earnest, her eyes showing her sincerity. "Thank you for giving me to my mothers, and for the life that's allowed me to live."
It took a lot to shock Dottie Underwood, and this was one of those rare times where she was caught completely by surprise.
"I'm not going to offer to help you get out." Natasha continued. "But I have the resources to help you finally finish off the Red Room, I'd like to help."
"No." Dottie said firmly. "These are my problems, malen'kiy pauk, not yours." She glared at the younger woman and shook her head. "You are so much like her, like both of them. That's a good thing, but be mindful that that Carter heart of yours doesn't get you burned one day."
"I like to think I have traits from all of my mothers." Natasha said softly.
Dottie longed to touch her, but even now seemingly alone she was afraid too. If the wrong person were to see, it would put the girl in danger. When Dottie spoke again she spoke in Russian, repeating the words, malen'kiy pauk, little spider. But whatever else she was about to say was cut off, she sensed it before she heard it, the distant muffled pop of a sniper shot. Dottie moved quickly, shielding Natasha, taking the bullet.
Natasha moved just as quickly, pulling her weapon, eyes already on where the shot came from. She fires three times, and a man's body falls into the rocks below his hiding place, painting the snow bright red.
Dottie always has an escape, but Natasha doesn't know that. It's better this way. Better for them both. But she does regret causing the look of panic and grief on the girl's face as Natasha watches her tumble over the side of the catwalk, a growing blood stain coloring the front of her clothes.
When the news breaks years later about the heroes who saved the earth from an alien invasion, Dottie finds herself in a state of shock and awe as she listens to the presenters as they discuss what is being called the Battle of New York.
"And the woman fighting along Iron Man and Captain America?" One man says. "Who is she supposed to be?"
"According to the press release she's known as the Black Widow." The other answers.
Dottie smiles as she slides on her sunglasses and tugs at the brim of her hat as she walks out of the cafe and into the afternoon sun. The Black Widow, Natasha would do good using that name, far more than Dottie ever had. She feels pride swell as she makes her way down the sun soaked caribbean street. Yes, their girls would do great things.