I know, I know, it's been AGES and I'm sorry. I've been travelling. But it is my firm intention to see this story through! Thanks for your patience and your reviews!

Valeria sat aboard the quinjet, tugging on her cuffed wrist resentfully. She had been banned to the back corner of the jet and secured in place per Natasha's insistence. Clint had tried to reason with her, saying that she had earned the right to be free of the cuffs. Natasha would have none of it, and they had quarreled heatedly until Clint gave in to her wishes, apologizing to Valeria as he secured one wrist to the metal frame of her seat. "This is only temporary," he had said, "She's under a lot of strain."

He wasn't wrong. Natasha steadfastly refused to even acknowledge her presence, but then, she wasn't really interacting with anyone. Valeria watched as Natasha sat stock still in her seat, staring out into space, creases lining her forehead as though she were listening hard to something no one else could hear. Looking frustrated, Natasha stood abruptly and crossed the plane to grab her jacket, "What's our ETA?" She asked Tony impatiently as she stuffed her arm into her jacket. As she did, the shoulder of her shirt pulled down slightly, revealing the crowned top of Natasha's tattoo. The crimson color, like blood, caught her eye in the small mirror mounted on the wall near the bathroom where she stood. She froze, staring into it, before ripping the material off her shoulder for a closer look. Valeria cringed, this wasn't going to be pretty.

"What is this…" Natasha breathed, softly at first, as if asking herself, but then again more loudly, "What is this?!" She looked wildly around, taking in Clints bewildered look as he saw the tattoo. Natasha looked shell shocked, "No. I've seen this before," she muttered to herself. She whirled around to face Valeria, striding towards her quickly and roughly baring the girls left shoulder. Natasha's hand shook and she spoke through gritted teeth, "What. Is. This."

Valeria had gone ashen, "The mark of a Widow. They started doing them soon after you defected. We all have them."

"Natasha," Clint stood beside her, his hand reaching out and gently resting on hers where it curled into Valeria's shirt in a fist, "This isn't the girl's fault, let her go."

Natasha's mouth gaped and she looked at Clint in horror, still gripping Valeria, "I got away before they could brand me. So they hunted me down and did it anyway. Like they own me Clint. They marked me like property. I remember now."

Clints face was hard as he looked at the tattoo, "I know." He gripped her shoulders firmly, "Let's make the people responsible pay for it. Valeria isn't one of those people. Let go of her Nat."

Natasha's fist slowly uncurled, her eyes locked on Valeria's tattoo as if unable to look away. Finally she let go and turned away from Valeria without meeting her eyes. The team regarded her solemnly. Natasha took her seat methodically, staring at the floor.

"Touch down in five minutes," Tony's voice was cautious.

"Natasha," Clint started carefully, compassionately, kneeling down to face her at her level, "Are you sure you should be part of this mission? We can do this without you. You've endured so much..."

"I'm going." Natasha didn't look at him, lost in a dark memory.

"Nat-"

"I'M. GOING." She stood suddenly, looking down at Clint, "Only Steve outranks me, you can't stop me."

Clint frowned, "No I can't, but Natasha, you aren't yourself. You need time."

Natasha checked her weapon for the hundredth time, "I am exactly who they made me to be." The chamber of her gun clicked as she pulled it back, fully loaded, "And now they are going to get a taste of it."

Steve eyes opened slowly, disoriented, surprised to find himself alive. His limbs ached, his shoulders cramped painfully from being secured over his head to the wall behind him. His eyes scanned the room where he lay, and rested finally on Darya Sokolov, her predatory stare drawing him in. She regarded him coolly, eyes locked with his, seeming to be searching for something there. Apparently not finding what she sought, she became irritated, her lip curled in disgust, and she called in the direction of the door, "Anka, it's time."

Closing his eyes, Steve tried to orient himself. He had been poisoned, by Natasha. Natasha. His eyes flew open. "What have you done with Natasha?" Darya ignored him, and the woman who he assumed was Anka entered the room. She did not even grace him with a look, but went immediately to a shelf along the wall, gathering medical instruments onto a rolling table. Steve's mind was racing, trying to recall the events that had happened just before he lost consciousness. Natasha's face, murderous at first, but slowly becoming less certain; the pain of the knife in his chest being drawn out, everything was black; the distant sound of a gunshot. A cold fear gripped his stomach. He struggled against his restraints, coming to a half sitting position, "What have you done to Natasha?"

Anka rolled the table to Steve's bedside, deaf to Steve's questions. Placing a hand on his chest she firmly shoved him to his back. Steve's eyes popped wide with surprise, the poison had caused him to lose strength. Deftly she added a strap to Steve's forearm to prevent him from moving it at all, then applied a tourniquet. Quickly realizing what she was doing, Steve yanked on the restraints but to no avail.

"This will be easier for everyone if you hold still," Anka said, calmly eying the needle in her hand. Looking at him suddenly she grinned, "Not that I'm adverse to a little bit of a struggle on your part." Steve glared furiously at her, "Go to Hell." Anka leaned in close to Steve, nose to nose, "If it's Hell you're looking for, I think I can help." Quick as lightning, Anka's hand had balled into a fist and come crashing down onto Steve's face. Defenseless, Steve cringed as another came down on him, and still another. Anka paused to view her handiwork. Steve breathed shallowly through his mouth, his nose definitively broken, blood seeping down his face. He glared furiously at her through an eye that was quickly swelling. Anka was expressionless as she considered him, her knuckles stained with Steve's blood.

"Look at you. I can read you like a book," Anka spat the words at Steve, "You cannot even hide your hatred for me. If you were one of my students, you would have received a beating far worse than this one." Anka looked back at Darya, sitting in a chair behind her looking bored and impatient. "How did this vyperdysch break our Natalia?"

Darya bristled, "I don't want to speak of her. Just get on with it Anka, so I can begin preparations for my dose."

Anka turned back to Steve, who had been listening intently at the mention of Natasha's name. She sneered at him, leaning close so he could hear her clearly, "Darya is interested in you for the serum that runs through your blood. I however, care more about what's in your head." She caressed his cheek, sticky with blood, and smiled dangerously, "What sort of Shield secrets does the captain of the Avengers have floating around in there? Stark tower passwords? Classified weapons data?" Steve stared levelly at her through his swelling eye, carefully keeping his expression blank. She cocked her head at him, "No? How about how you got Natalia to trust you?" Steve looked away, his mouth in a tight line. Anka shook her head mockingly, "Tell you what, you tell me about Shield, and I'll tell you all the dirty little stories about Natalia that I guarantee she has never told anyone. I can see that you care for her, so I'll just make sure you have all the information."

Steve bared his teeth at her, straining once more against the restraints, "Where is she?"

"She's a traitor. She's in a cell awaiting a traitor's fate. She missed out on it last time."

At Steve's horrified look Anka nodded, "Oh yes, terrible stuff. However, your cooperation might ease the hand of her punisher. What do you say." Steve looked at Darya, whose forehead had creased in confusion for only a split second before her face smoothed back to neutral.

"If I cooperate, you won't hurt her? How will I know you will keep your word?"

"You won't. But will you risk it?"

Steve choked back his rage, biting his tongue until it bled. He nodded stiffly.

"Wonderful! Let's get on with it then," Anka inserted the needle into Steve's arm with ease, and Steve kept still to allow it. His blood quickly began to spill down the tubes and into the awaiting bag, Darya watched it greedily. Anka sat in a chair near Steve's head watching the progress. "While we wait, why don't I tell you a little story about our dear Natalia?" She looked at Darya for her opinion, "Shall I start with her childhood training or jump right into her work as an assassin?"

Darya smirked, "Oh start with childhood training. Americans always have entertaining reactions to our training methods."

Steve stiffened, "She's already told me."

Anka smiled so widely Steve could have counted all her teeth, "Not these I'm betting. I'll tell you a story, and then you can tell me a Shield secret."

Steve snarled, fed up with Anka's games, "I won't tell you anything," he held Anka's gaze in suspicion, "I don't think you have Natasha here."

Darya and Anka exchanged looks, and a moment later a piercing female scream broke through the silence. Steve jolted in alarm, looking between Darya and Anka, his face white.

Anka calmly readjusted the needle in his arm, "Now, let me tell you a story."