So, I know I said it wouldn't be another 2 months before I updated. Well, it's been another 2 months and I'm really, really sorry! I know a lot of you are concerned that I'm giving up on this story and I can promise you that that is not the case! I just haven't been writing as much, and this story has been giving me some serious writer's block. But I'm starting to push past the writer's block, so hopefully I will be updating more frequently here soon.

This chapter deals a lot with the Red Room and what Natasha went through there, so warnings for that in this chapter. The Red Room is not a pleasant place, so general warnings for terrible things. Some very slight mentions of non-con, violence, brutality, all that kind of stuff. I took elements from Agent Carter as well as some from the comics. All comic stuff came from research, and I took some liberties with the characters of Ivan Petrovich and Yuri Brushov because there's hardly any information on them. Be safe, readers!

I don't own Captain America.

Enjoy!

And sorry for any typos. I'm pretty tired and I don't think my proofreading was as thorough.

-:-

"Ow, fuck," Natasha snapped under her breath as the nurse pulled a stich on her side especially taut.

She looked up as she heard Bucky cluck his tongue disapprovingly from the chair next to the bed she was sitting on. "That's not very lady-like Ms. Romanoff," he chided.

Natasha gave Bucky a look as the nurse finished putting bandages over her bullet wounds. "Don't be a hypocrite, Mr. Barnes," she shot back. "You swear just as much if not more than I do."

"Fair enough," Bucky chuckled. "But I'm sure you can swear in more than one language, so really, I think you have a bit more of a sailor's mouth than I do."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Where's Steve?"

Bucky put a hand to his chest, looking mock-offended. "What? Not enjoying my company?"

"Oh, you're a pleasure as always," she replied sarcastically.

Bucky just laughed, though, shaking his head. "Trust me, Steve would be here if he could. The Colonel wanted his report right away."

Natasha nodded in understanding.

"All right," the nurse cut in, giving Natasha a smile. "We're all finished here. Lots of bedrest, Ms. Romanoff. You lost quite a bit of blood and your lungs are still a little sensitive due to the smoke inhalation. Let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you," Natasha told her politely. The nurse dipped her head in acknowledgement, gave Bucky a polite smile on her way out, and then shut the door behind her.

Natasha looked back at Bucky. He was smiling a little. He had a nasty bruise on his jaw, but was otherwise fine. He tilted his head to the side and examined her, brow furrowed and lips pursed like he was itching to ask her something.

She sighed and situated herself more comfortably on the bed. "What is it?"

He waved his hand dismissively in the air. "It's nothing."

"Come on, Barnes."

He exhaled sharply. "Okay, well, it's not really super important. I guess I was just thinking that, no offense, but you kinda look like shit."

"Such a gentleman," she muttered. "Thanks for pointing that out."

"Well, you asked."

"Is that all you had to tell me?" she snapped.

"No, that was only part of it," he said. "I mean obviously you got pretty hurt, but I was just thinking that it could've been avoided. I mean, we could've just blown the factory, sent those bastards back to hell where they came from. But you went in and tried to take them all out by yourself. Why?"

"There were civilians in there," she replied simply. "I didn't know that at first, but once I did I couldn't just leave them there."

Bucky looked thoughtful for a moment, before his face darkened. "It's war, Natasha. People die all the time. Sometimes we have to sacrifice the few to save the many."

"They were orphans, James," she said quietly, firmly, meeting his gaze. "They were just kids. This war isn't their fault, and they're probably orphans because of this goddamn war."

"I'm sorry. I was insensitive."

"It's okay," she told him. "You're not wrong. People, civilians, they get caught in the crosshairs during war. It happens and people die. A lot more often than they should, and often times it gets brushed off. Casualties of war. Believe me, I know that it happens. And maybe it would've been easier to just blow the place. But that's not what Steve would've done. He would have saved those people."

Bucky stared at her for a moment before breaking out into a laugh. "God, he's rubbed off on you."

Natasha shrugged and gave Bucky a sideways smile. "I guess so. Clearly he hasn't had any effect on you, though."

"Hey, how do you know that I'm not the one who's rubbed off on him?"

She scoffed. "Please. I'll believe that just as soon as Dum Dum shaves off his mustache and gives his hat to a Nazi."

Bucky pondered that one for a moment before subjecting. "Okay, fair enough. You win that one."

She shook her head and gave him a fond smile. Bucky met her gaze just as warmly before a spark lit up his blue eyes, a giant grin spreading across his face.

"What?" she asked.

"You called me James." Bucky could barely get the sentence out he was smiling so broadly.

Natasha blinked at him and then smirked. "Well, that's your name, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but everyone just calls me Bucky."

"I'm not everyone," she replied with a playful smile.

"No," Bucky agreed softly, almost to himself. "No you are not." he paused, considering. "You can call me James. I don't mind."

"Really?"

"Well, it's you." He shrugged, then gave her a devious smile, eyes glinting as he leaned closer towards her bed. "Though women usually call me James in a more…intimate setting—"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, slapping away the hand he reached out towards her. "You just had to ruin the moment didn't you?"

He leaned back and grinned. "It's part of the Bucky Barnes charm."

"I think you need to rethink your definition of charm," she replied.

Bucky laughed. It wasn't a full body laugh, but it was one of the brightest laughs she'd seen from him. It made her smile. Bucky didn't seem like the type to laugh out loud often, but he smiled and chuckled quite a bit around her. The only person she'd really seen him truly laugh with was Steve. It made her a little happy that she was higher up on the list too. Despite the fact that she was covered in bandages and they were both exhausted, he seemed incredibly at ease. Enough to grace her with a genuine laugh.

She would've said more, but the door opened and Steve poked his head in. Her eyes immediately went to him, and when he caught her gaze, he stepped fully into the room.

"Hey," Steve greeted, rubbing a hand up his arm.

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky smiled. "Nat was just telling me how charming I am."

"'Nat'?" Steve echoed.

Natasha gave Bucky a look. "Charming?"

Bucky looked between the two of them. "You two are no fun, you know that?"

"So leave," Natasha suggested.

Steve chuckled, and Bucky glowered. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Pick on Bucky."

As he stood to go, though, Natasha could tell he wasn't really mad. He couldn't even keep a straight face all the way to the door. He clapped Steve on the back as he went, and then gave Natasha one last smile. "I'll bring you some dinner later, Nat."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep a small smile from tugging up the corners of her mouth.

Bucky saluted them both and then left, the door shutting softly behind him.

The room was deafeningly quiet for a moment now that it was just her and Steve. Neither of them moved for several heartbeats, but then Steve was sitting himself down in the chair that Bucky had just vacated. Natasha looked him over as he sat, taking particular note of the white bandage sticking out from underneath his rolled up shirtsleeve.

"What happened?" she asked, nodding to the bandage.

Steve looked down, touching the edge of the gauze. "Nothing," he said, looking back up at her. "Just a bullet graze."

She smiled wryly at him. "And here I was beginning to think that Captain America didn't bleed."

Steve chuckled, his eyes glittering brightly as he looked at her, a fond smile on his face. His expression faded into something more troubled once he looked her over and all at once seemed to remember how injured she was. Natasha was about to protest, to tell him for the millionth time that she was fine, but he beat her to it.

"How are you feeling?"

Natasha paused, contemplating telling him that she was perfectly fine, even though he hated when she did that. After another second of consideration, she decided to go with the truth. "Kinda shitty, actually. But getting shot will do that to you."

Steve's frown deepened, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. "Natasha…" he breathed in sharply, "You shouldn't have gone in there by yourself. You could have—"

"Died," she finished for him, mildly annoyed. "I know. You've only told me that a thousand times. But, Steve, I mean I tell you I'm fine and you get upset, I tell you I'm not fine and you get upset. We need a middle ground here. There's no way to keep me out of danger, so you're just going to have to deal with it if I get hurt. I told you I was going to see this through, and that's what I'm going to do, no matter the cost."

Steve nodded slowly, though he was still tense. "I know, I know. I just worry about you."

"Well, then at least tell me that you get this worried about Bucky when he gets shot, because I'm starting to feel like I'm getting special treatment," she teased.

Steve gave a tentative smile that quickly widened. "Of course I worry this much over Bucky. There's a little more whining from him, and a little more of me calling him a dumbass, though."

Natasha laughed quietly.

"I know you can take care of yourself," Steve continued softly. "You're just as capable as any of us out in the field. I shouldn't overreact so much. I just…care about you, is all. I don't want to see you—or anyone else—get hurt."

Natasha swallowed, examining his words. She thought that maybe his worry for her went a little deeper than simply caring about her, but she shoved that aside quickly. Shoved it down deep, deep, deep. There was no way that was true, and even if it was, they couldn't. And yet, wasn't Steve, and what she felt for him, the whole reason she stayed in the first place?

Natasha shook her head, banishing those thoughts, putting her focus back on Steve, who was watching her quietly. She briefly wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see past all of her faults and her history and see her entirely as just Natasha? Or did he see the monster beneath? She bit her lip, fighting back the sudden onslaught of emotion she was feeling.

"Do you want me to go?" Steve whispered, obviously noticing her internal struggle.

She quickly shook her head, meeting his eyes. "No. Please stay."

Steve gave a slight nod and settled further into the chair. He looked down at his hands, the silence in the room pressing down on her. She couldn't get the words he'd said to her out of her mind, it sounds like you've been bleeding for a long time. God, if he only knew…she took a deep breath. Then another.

"Ivan Petrovich," Natasha said aloud, though it didn't feel like she had spoken at all.

Steve's head shot up and he gave her a confused look. "What?"

Natasha didn't know where she found the strength to keep talking. She wasn't sure that if she kept going that she would be able to stop. "Ivan Petrovich. He found me after my parents died…there was a fire—"

"Natasha, stop," Steve whispered suddenly, realizing what she was trying to do. He leaned forward in his chair, his blue eyes wide. "You don't—you don't have to do this. You don't have to tell me this."

Despite feeling like there wasn't enough air in her lungs, Natasha met his gaze. "I want to."

Steve's brow was creased, his mouth parted just the slightest. She saw him swallow, his throat bobbing up and down. His only signal for her to continue was to scoot his chair closer to the bed. Natasha shifted on the bed, crossing her legs, despite the pain lancing through her side. She shoved her hands into her lap where Steve couldn't see them shake.

Natasha started again, not looking directly at Steve though she could feel his gaze on her face. "I don't remember much about the fire." It was a lie, but there was no way she could describe to Steve the heat against her small body, how the whole world was reduced to nothing but yellow and orange and black smoke and the screams of her parents as their flesh sizzled and burned and fell away from their skeletons, not long after they shoved her towards the window that Ivan would pull her out of. Part of her figured that Steve knew she was lying, but he didn't push, didn't say anything at all.

"Ivan saved me from the fire. He took me in, took care of me. For a while anyway." Natasha couldn't seem to get her voice above a whisper. "He was a good man, really. Not the best. But he meant well. He just…he happened to know a lot of people who weren't so great.

"Ivan was the one who brought me to the Red Room, to the Black Widow program. He never said anything to me about it, and I haven't seen him since he brought me there. I don't know why he did it…I don't know if it was for money, a favor to the men who ran it, or if he just didn't want the burden of taking care of a child."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve's jaw clench, saw his eyes darken and his forehead crease with anger and worry.

"They brainwashed me," and yet the memories of the fire had remained, burning inside of her just like the fire itself had burned against her skin, "trained me, made me completely loyal and willing. There were twenty-eight of us…they taught us about other cultures and languages, so we could blend in wherever our missions sent us. They handcuffed us to our beds at night…" Natasha rubbed the wrist that she had spent a majority of her life shackling. Cold metal bracelet chained to an even colder metal bedframe.

She barely saw Steve move before he was reaching for the very wrist she was rubbing. She looked at him, only able to watch as he leaned forward and gently lifted her hand out of her lap, his fingers soft as they touched her skin and carefully circled her wrist. He met her eyes and he let his hand slowly move down so their hands were intertwined.

The second she felt tears spring in her eyes, she ducked her head so he couldn't see. She almost laughed about it. She was baring her battered soul, her past to him and she was embarrassed about a few tears.

"Um," she said, trying to find the words that were so desperate to escape the cage of her body. "We, the twenty eight of us, we trained together…and once we reached a certain age, the weak ones were weeded out. We had to, um…kill each other…." Steve's hand tightened around hers. "We would spar and the winner would have to break the loser's neck. It was fast, efficient. That way the trainers wouldn't have to get their hands together and we could practice killing. It also made having friends out of the question, because chances were you would have to kill them. The Red Room was as much about our training to be the best assassins as possible as much as it was about our own survival. If you didn't do well it training, you clearly weren't the best and you were punished—or worse—for it."

"Were you…" Steve paused, struggling to get the words out. "Were you ever…punished?"

Natasha almost smiled at him. Almost. He was still so naïve sometimes that it tore her apart inside.

"Yes," she answered simply. "Of course. And they were not pleasant."

There had been one day in training where she and a couple other girls hadn't done very well, and the trainers had decided to give them a second chance. They ended up having to hang off the edge of the tallest building at the facility. There had been four of them and only Natasha had made it. Natasha could still remember the screams of the other girls as they fell, and then the sickening crack of their skulls against the pavement below. She didn't even have to look down to know that their bodies had been utterly and completely broken.

"Yuri Brushov," Natasha started again, the name sending chills up and down her spine. "H-he was one of the men in charge of the Red Room. He oversaw all of our training. He was…is…ruthless. Cold-hearted. He doled out a lot of the punishments himself." now it was her turn to tighten her grip around Steve's hand. "He, um…I was one of his favorites. I guess I was flattered at the time. I wanted to be the best, I wanted to be the Black Widow. And Brushov had a way of making sure that I and the others were completely loyal to him."

Though she had been with Steve and the Allies for months now, she could still feel Brushov's cold, scarred hands on her, touching her gently before lifting his hand and cracking it across her face. His deep voice, whispering in her ear, before he kicked out the back of her knees and kicked her so hard her ribs bent and cracked. Do you want me to stop, Natalia? She hadn't dared to nod, because she knew that would only end with more blood in her mouth. You want to be the spider, Natalia? The Black Widow does not give in, does not give up. She only kills. He wrenched her head back by her hair, his other hand brushing up and down the column of her throat, sticky with her own blood. You are mine, Natalia. You are no one and nothing. Nothing but the spider. And you are mine. His hand closed around her throat and she couldn't breathe.

"Natasha. Natasha," Steve's worried voice snapped her back, tearing her from her memories. She looked down to see her hand was white around Steve's. It must have hurt, even for him. She slowly released her fingers, tucking her hand back into her lap, trying to get her breathing under control.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, and before Steve could soothe her, she spoke again. "I was the best. I became the Black Widow and Brushov's loyal attack dog. I know you've always wondered why I was so adamant about following my orders and staying on base when you first met me. I stayed in my position because Brushov directly ordered me to. I was…I still am afraid of him. I didn't want to disobey, and if you hadn't showed up, I would have gotten blown to bits for that loyalty. He killed all the new recruits and he almost killed me."

"And now he's gone," Steve said softly.

Natasha nodded. "He's still out there. And that's why I didn't want you to send me back to Russia right away. I'm free of him and I'm just hoping the bastard will be long dead before I ever have to see him again."

Steve slowly reached forward and tilted her chin up so she was looking at him again. "I won't send you back there. I promise. I'll make sure he never hurts you again."

His eyes were so open, voice so earnest that for a second Natasha believed him. But the moment passed quickly because even though she was sure that Steve would stop at nothing to protect her, she knew Brushov and she knew that once he found out she was alive—if he didn't know already—that he would also stop at nothing to get her back in his clutches.

But she didn't tell Steve that. She didn't want him worrying about her any more than he already was, so she just nodded.

Steve looked pensive, dropping his hands into his lap. "Why did you tell me all this?"

"I trust you," she replied, to which his eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise. For a brief moment, a fraction of a second, she considered telling him about the graduation ceremony, but the words to describe it caught in her throat. She could still feel the cold metal tools against her skin, could still feel one of the trainers shoving her down onto the table and wheeling her away, as images of girls past flashed by.

"Besides," Natasha continued, trying to push away all thoughts of her graduation ceremony. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about what you said, about how I've been bleeding for a long time. The truth is I have. I've been through a lot, but I can take it."

"You shouldn't have to."

"Maybe not, but someone has to, right?"

Steve was about to say more, but Natasha just barely caught Bucky leaving out of the corner of her eye before the door was slamming shut. She didn't even have to go after Bucky and ask him to know that he'd been standing there pretty much the whole time. On the table by the door sat the dinner Bucky said he would bring her.

-:-

Thanks for reading!

I will try really hard to update soon!

-DaughterOfPoseidon333