"Director, there's a jet approaching SHIELD airspace. Agent Romanoff's."
"Mobilise the Strike Teams Ensign."
"Aye sir. Teams mobilised."
"Agent Romanoff. You will stop at the bottom of the ramp and get down on your knees and place your hands on your head. Do you understand?"
She had paused at the top, standing before the small battalion which had been mobilised to contain her, first seeing the heads, then the weapons, then the feet - the consequences of her unauthorised actions revealed inch by inch as the ramp lowered to the ground. She made no verbal reply but mechanically made her way off the jet, planting both feet on the smooth asphalt as if testing it would hold. Her movements were stilted, eyes staring dead ahead. Woodenly she did as she was told, interlacing her fingers behind her head. Her gaze did not shift, she scarcely blinked. She was giving no indication she could even see the dozens of agents surrounding her. They advanced on her as one. They were close enough to strike, and be struck, but no movement at all was forthcoming, not even a twitch of facial muscle or acknowledgement of her surroundings as her arms were lowered one by one and cuffed behind her. The triumvirate looked on from the edge of the landing pad as she was led away, eyes following her every stiff step until she disappeared inside the detention wing. Not once did she look over at them to give them any clue as to what she was thinking, any kind of hint that she recognised the enormity of her decision.
They wanted her to. They needed her to look over at them. Look them in the eye. They wished to see her looking glassily back, perhaps snarl at them, or try to attack them. Anything. Any kind of sign that she had been reprogrammed, or was under the influence of another and had only left because she had no choice but to comply. Seeing dead eyes staring back at them would be better than seeing her completely lucid – to see she had sought out her treason willingly and actively. To see her entirely complicit in her betrayal.
"Do we know why she went back?"
"For Yelena, she said."
"But she came back alone."
"I don't think it was a rescue."
"Agent Coulson, sir, I think you should see this." The young agent said quietly, handing over a tablet.
Phil took it, his mouth tightening to a thin line as he swiped through a series of photographs. Rooms trashed, bloody handprints, carnage, a burning building. A corpus of guards. Instructors. A woman, a Black Widow insignia on her belt. Wordlessly he passed it to Maria, eliciting a similar reaction as she took in the devastation. No more, read a bloodied message in the final photograph, trailed across the floor beside the head of the woman they took to be Belova.
"She killed them all Phil."
"She's the last one of her kind now." It was said flippantly, meant only as an observation with little weight behind it.
"Oh my God." Maria whispered slowly, momentarily stunned at her own revelation.
"What?"
"Phil. Look at her." She gestured towards where Natasha was curled up. "She is the only one left. Utterly alone. They made her. They raised her. She was their best. They dictated her every moment for over sixty years, and she has just hunted them to extinction. What if…what if this is her breaking? What if this is her… mourning?"
They both stared at her again. She was curled up on her side as tight as could be in the furthest corner of her cell, her back to Maria and Phil, face tucked into her knees. It wasn't the posture of a woman revelling in the defeat of her enemies.
"I had to. I had to. I'm sorry. I had to."
Maria crouched down several feet away from her. Natasha was rambling, so quietly Maria could only hear every few words. By the hoarseness of her voice she had been rambling for some time. She was rocking slightly, hands fisted in her hair over her ears, trying to block out a sound only she could hear.
"Had to. I had to. Could not…Could not comply."
Maria shifted her weight, edging closer to her colleague, making quiet shushing noises of reassurance as she approached.
"Won't get me back. Will not comply."
She tentatively reached out one hand to place it on the woman's shoulder, feeling an unexpected release of tension flood through her as Natasha allowed the contact. She had calculated the risk of touching the assassin – she was exceptional at her job, but this situation was far from predictable.
"Natasha. It's Maria." She kept her voice low and soothing, hoping her agent would pick up on the tone, if not the words. She began to rub small circles on her back, coaxing her into any form of response.
"Not your Little Spider anymore."
"Natasha, it's okay. You're back at SHIELD. It's Maria and Phil is here too, just outside."
She maintained the contact with Natasha, letting her ease into her touch, eventually feeling a twitch of muscle as the agent pushed back into her hands, allowing herself to be held.
"Tired. I'm so tired." It came out barely audible. The low throb of a woman utterly broken.
They sat in an interview room. Natasha, perfectly still, on one side, Nick, Phil and Maria on the other. Natasha. Natalia. Whatever incarnation they were looking at. They weren't sure.
"I received intelligence regarding the rising influence of a new Academy, sir."
"So you left?"
"Yes sir, I left." Summing up her own crusade in two words, not shying away from owning up to her mistake.
The three in command glanced between each other at her confession.
"And what happened when you arrived Agent Romanoff?"
The question made her feel nauseous. She thought the Red Room could no longer influence her, or have an effect on her. She was not as free of them as she thought. Her valiant steps towards becoming human under SHIELD wobbled and brought her crashing to the floor the instant she entered the compound in Russia. Suddenly the idea of what she had to lose, what they could take from her became horrifying. She wanted to both embrace and damn SHIELD for giving her a heart. She outlined the event succinctly. The Academy was indeed still going. New faces, same regime. Guards. Torture. Needles. Yelena.
"There were girls there. Young girls. I tried to get them out but the guards eliminated them under Belova's orders whilst I was being interrogated." Her tone was clinical and clipped, the professionalism smoothly back in place after the earlier shedding of her former self.
"Girls? We didn't see any in the photographs our team took."
Natasha gave Maria a sideways look. "You think I don't know you have a team over there gathering evidence?" That tone, the one with the slight smirk behind it, was Natasha Romanoff. Maria might have found it reassuring were she not currently interviewing her about committing treason. "I've already deleted them Commander, you do not need to see what they did to them."
"Do you regret ending the Red Room?"
"No sir I do not." The weight of the words lay heavy on her. They had to go. They were the wrong side. She was the right. She knew that now. Was strong enough to sever all ties to them, destined to be the last and only Black Widow.
"Is there anything else you wish to say?"
"I..I regret betraying your trust in me sir. I am sorry I have fallen short of what you thought I could be. I did not want to."
"Very well. Ms Romanoff, you are suspended from SHIELD indefinitely whilst an investigation into your conduct is undertaken. You will remain in the detention wing until such time as your behaviour, motives and future are established. Whilst I am supportive of your attempts at exploring your new-found humanity and autonomy I have no place for those attempts which endanger my organisation and the lives of its agents – yourself included. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir, perfectly."