"I know who you are."
No more startling words have ever been spoken to Natasha as she finishes her workout in the one room she feels only sort of safe in- her own.
Natasha rotates her head, sitting up with a hair flip post her 150 crunches, "I don't know who you're accusing of being…"
"You're Natasha Romanoff, you're the Black Widow," Riley comments without a hint of doubt, lingering in Natasha's door.
"There were a lot of Widows," the redhead tries to dissuade.
Riley isn't buying any of it, "You're her."
Natasha stands and heads for the hand towel in her bathroom. After running the red cloth under a burst of cold water, she finds her eyes in the mirror.
Riley looks so starstruck. A glimmer of hope in the typically dark shadow tinted eyes of the child.
"Yeah, I'm her."
While the spy admits her identity with just a hint of shame, the corner of Riley's mouth quirks upward even if it's just for a moment.
"Why are you here? I thought you were one of the good guys," she mutters under her breath.
Violet comes charging in at her maximum speed to join them, "Can you teach us how to fight?!"
"Good morning to you too," Natasha lays the towel on her forehead while she observes Violet's high energy.
"Please?! I want to punch someone like Black Widow!" The littlest one is pouting with a perfectly full lower lip and eyes she seems to know how to use.
Riley nudges her young 'sister' and sits beside her, "Don't embarrass me."
Natasha throws her head back with laughter.
Riley is fangirling and the spy isn't accustomed to handling this sort of reaction. Most children visiting the tower and its vicinity want to shake Steve Rogers' hand or wait with anticipation and ultimate disappointment when the hulk doesn't show up to break anything curbside.
"You're her favorite but we aren't allowed to watch tv so she forgot what you looked like," Violet giggles.
Riley reaches to cover her mouth.
"Oh?" Natasha steps out and abandons her towel.
"Yeah!" Violet squirms away from Riley, "She wants to punch people like you!"
Riley rolls her eyes and surrenders. Perhaps deciding the damage is done- her secret is out.
Natasha restrains her inner excitement over having a fan, "You know there's more to being a…Black Widow, I suppose, than punching."
Violet squeals and sits closer to the edge of the bed as if she's about to fall off with her eyes transfixed on the spy, hanging on her every word, "Like what?"
Natasha crosses her arms and gives the sass right back, "Well. How about this; I know Riley's favorite color is teal and she listens to Taylor Swift when she thinks no one is watching."
"You snooped while we were sleeping!" Riley's eyes narrow suspiciously.
"No," Natasha responds with a single finger raised, "I'm observant, patient, and the boss of my own fears when I take on a dangerous assignment-."
"You get scared Miss Natasha?!" Violet's eyes are wide.
"Sometimes," the spy admits honestly and crosses her legs as she settles on the ground and the girls eagerly join her, "Punching is only half of it, don't misunderstand me, it's good to know how to fight. But, it is also important to grow and to have a strong mind if you want to outwit your opponent. Patience is important if-."
"-I want to outfit!" Violet squeals again.
"Not outfit,' Riley corrects with a head shake addressing the spy, 'She means outwit."
Natasha grins, eager to share her knowledge but not until she's given them some peace, taught them what it means to feel safe. To breathe. To think before they act and not react.
She misses Bruce's yoga nights at the tower; He'd love helping these two children find some inner peace.
"First things first; Clear your mind. Find your center. Breathe. The calmer you are, the clearer your thoughts will be…"
The shorter, kind-hearted aunt of Izabella has hardly gotten a word in edgewise with the girl taking up most of the conversation. She and Bruce have gone from topic to topic on various scientific discoveries and theories.
"Too bad Natasha not come," Svetlana sighs in disappointment.
Bruce stands with his dish still full of meat, trying not to insult the sweet woman when he offers it to the nearby cat.
Izabella catches the action and chuckles with the fun nickname Natasha has used and she's accepted for their mutual beloved scientist, "Vrach."
"Shh," he taps his lips with his forefinger.
The twosome move to clean the rest of the table as they keep their secret.
Svetlana scolds with a lifted finger, "Natasha need to come here! Next time. No excuse. No bad work excuse."
Bruce rolls up his sleeves to wash the dishes, " Spasibo Svetlana. Thank you for dinner."
The shorter woman waves her hands, swatting him away from the sink.
"I've got it," he chuckles, comfortable in their company.
She lays a hand on her hip with a gesture, "We need speak."
"Yeah? About what," he lathers a bit of soap.
"Your…FBI do nothing for Izabella. Nothing! No help with school, no help for me! Just send us home after…"
Izabella quickly turns her head over the vague mention of her mother's murder and immediately shuts down. The cat is suddenly much more interesting.
Svetlana's description sounds accurate to SHIELD; intrude and then dip out.
He shrugs, "If SHIELD is leaving you alone it's for the best. Trust me."
Svetlana snaps her fingers toward her niece and points, "You tell him what happen when you go to school! You tell."
" Ya znayu, nichego strashnogo. "
She raises her volume passionately, " Da! kto-to posledoval za toboy domoy! "
"Okay tetya… "
His eyebrows lower, "I don't know what's happening. Is this about the time someone followed you home? We reported it."
"Two times!' Svetlana interrupts, 'She's normal girl!"
Bruce smirks only half listening. His thoughts are on the file taken of Izabella when they first met at the children's hospital. He gnaws nervously his cheek;
"Maybe, somehow, someone found her through Nat and I? I'm sorry…"
"You not problem."
"We don't know that...Maybe you guys should...get some sort of security,' his mind drifts, hand through his hair with a bit of regret as he finishes the dishes, 'It would just be safer."
"Teach me," Izabella stands with her own idea.
His eyes squint, "Teach you what."
The girl lifts her shoulders tentatively, "How to fight. Be own security."
Svetlana laughs, wiping a damp towel over her countertop with a Russian mumble Bruce is unable to catch or translate.
Bruce lifts his shoulder, "I'm an inadequate teacher when it comes to self defense. That's Natasha's thing."
" Pozhaluysta ?" Izabella clasps her fingers and begs with her eyes wide.
The girl in front of him might as well be his niece with how close they are despite the distance. Between her phone calls with Natasha and homework help with him, he's grown fond of her.
"Alright. I will teach you a little-."
Izabella reaches forward to hug him in pure excitement, her head at his elbow.
There's a strange static as she pulls away and two share a glance;
"That weird thing always happen."
He nods far more cautiously, needing some sort of explanation for their constant green 'static'.
"Yeah, 'weird'."
"Come! Show me!"
Svetlana gives her 'blessing' with a contorted mouth and a hand back on her hip in more Russian.
Bruce sighs and steps forward cautiously, unsure of where to start;
"Let's see your punch."
"Punch you?!" Izabella looks horrified.
Bruce snickers nervously, "I meant to punch the air but uh…"
He reached for a pillow off the sofa in the living room off the kitchen, "Here. Punch this."
She complies with a cringe, "I do it?"
It's soft. She's afraid of hurting the pillow now.
He nods, struggling to channel his inner Romanoff as he pauses to twirl at the band on his left ring finger.
She could do better. And she'd love the opportunity to teach their young friend how to fight.
"You're close," Izabella is not but he can reassure her for the time being.
She tries again with lifted eyebrows awaiting his approval.
Bruce changes his explanation, "Generate greater kinetic energy. Think about Newton's law of motion."
Now she understands. Her eyes lighting up as she takes another swing in her soft daisy printed sweater.
"Better,' he lowers the pillow momentarily, 'Now let's fix your fist before you break your thumb."
Natasha shifts in her chair at the long table and cracks her neck. Ivan Petrovich has a new set of rules concerning engagement with Olga's fosters. Supposedly the woman is 'upset' though based on Natasha's brief interactions, she seems to be upset over life itself. Bitter. Cold. Careless. Especially when it comes to the girls.
"Look into my eyes when I speak!" Ivan hits the table, frustrated over the lack of response from Natasha.
Romanoff takes a breath with her hands folded over the table. His words have only scraped the surface of her memory, lasting for as long as she needs them before a purge.
"I will stop engaging with Riley and Violet when you admit you're head first in Black Ops using my ex husband to complete some sort of underground what…art trade? Is that why this, haunted house looks so familiar?"
"Art," Ivan snickers coldly, pointing to Natasha with one hand over the back of the chair while he addresses Alexei sitting across from her, "She thinks we here for art."
Natasha lays her palms on the table, "I want to know why you feel the need to control my relationship with the girls so badly. Are you worried they're going to say something they shouldn't?"
"Natalia-."
"She prefer 'Natasha'," Alexei cuts in.
"Her name is Natalia."
"You brought me here,' Natasha looks up toward her father, 'You know exactly who I am-."
"Natalia Alianovna-!"
"Don't shout at me, I won't tolerate it."
He spits through his angry tension, "You'll tolerate what I tell you to tolerate!"
"When you start treating me like an equal we can talk."
Ivan shouts through a Russian ramble. Alexei grits his own teeth, cheeks in a restrained rage of bright red;
"I need a moment with my wife."
Ivan makes eye contact, "If she so much as speaks when my company arrives."
"I will talk to her."
He huffs and takes his leave. Natasha's muscles relax in Alexei's presence. She senses an underlying hesitation she believes she can exploit;
"Alexei,' he stands up over her call, 'You owe him nothing."
He ignores, pouring a shot of vodka for himself with his back to her, "Why are you here."
The sudden drop in his tone causes her to pause and to analyze every feature. She stammers to answer, taking too long for Alexei Shoshtakov who repeats the question, "Why, are you here."
She answers half honestly, "I'm here for you."
His head shakes as he turns around after a second shot, "You are here to divide. This family is my family."
"Black Ops isn't a family. They're using you-."
"You cannot break this. Us."
She scoffs and hides her face in partial spy mode. Though, trying to convince him of her frustration doesn't take much effort, "You left me, Alexei! Somehow you survived and decided to move in with the man who joined an organization that had a part in brainwashing the both of us-! After I left the Red Room!"
"Saved us!" He corrects brazenly.
She shrugs with a sigh, "Whatever you want to call manipulating-."
"You, manipulate," Alexei points, "You, lie to me Natalia! Over. And over! You get close to girls to find flaw in me-!"
"Alexei, it's not like that," She stands, eager to calm him.
Natasha reaches for his cheek only for the man to deny her access as he rambles on.
His solid swat at her wrist is bound to leave a mark, "You tell me that it's over with...him! And yet you see him, behind me in our home?! Did you think I would not know? You think you can deceive me with these- sporadic remarks of affection- you don't love me! You love him. This...monster."
"-He's not a monster."
Alexei nods, eyes narrowing as his breath picks up, "Ivan is right. Because you cannot be trusted."
Natasha shakes her head, trying again to make contact, "That's not true. I want to talk to you but right now, I don't know who you are because you ignore me."
She is suddenly conscious of her every movement, twitch and breath.
Alexei pauses, his eyes focused forward.
"Will you side with me, or not."
"I'm with you-."
"Promise, you will not use the girls."
"That's not why I talk to them," she holds her breath.
"Give me his ring."
She pauses over Alexei's request, swallowing over the extended palm in her direction. Natasha takes an inhale, the muscles in her neck clenching immediately.
Her voice softens;
"This is ridiculous."
"Give it to me."
Natasha shuts her eyes and lowers her head despite her attempts not to, toying with the item between her fingers.
She's never been attached to material things, having learned to live without for most of her life. This particular item feels different having assigned it meaning.
It's a symbol of everything she holds close. It's her freedom. Something she hardly removes in her new, normal, life.
It's Banner's promise to adore her. To respect her. A mutual understanding between the two of them that their love is something that will stand the test of time.
Natasha shuts her eyes tighter. She shakes her head, startled when Alexei grips her wrist and takes matters into his own hands with no hint of emotion.
Her jaw drops with a whisper when it's removed from her finger. With hatred in his stare he crushes it in his solid grip.
Natasha breathes heavily with a returning stare full of tears she refuses to free.
He snarls, "You will be broken. You will respect. Dividing will not work. You will stay away from the girls. Crush that new communicator in your room. If not, you will lose finger. If you hide anything, I cut off one of Riley's. If you call Nicholas Fury, I will blow up the shack where your team hides. If you speak in front of company, I shoot Violet."
"You are the monster," she mumbles above a whisper. His threatening the young girls bothers her the most and she suddenly has a new feeling when she looks at him- hatred.
He raises a hand to the shameless spy, watching her shudder rather than fight back. He throws the small, remaining pieces of Natasha's destroyed band in her direction and surrenders his threat of striking her.
Alexei storms away, "You have become weak."
She stays low, not fearing a hit but the fact that he will see the tears streaming steadily down her cheeks.
Her mind races once he's left, unable to stay in spy mode as she grinds her molars together.