A/N: Thanks for reviewing!

Oh, all the time that I have wasted chasing rabbits down a hole

The flight to Moscow provided Natasha with the time for a nap. She hadn't contacted Yelena yet, having been preoccupied with Andre Rostov. She figured she would call her when she landed in the capitol. Given that this had all started with the attack in Wiemar, Yelena would certainly know to keep herself out of danger. The important thing was getting to Anna and ensure she wasn't killed off like the others had surely been.

Anna hadn't been as close to Natasha as she had been to Elena, but they had spent time together in their youth. The final ten girls had been friendly to each other as the competitive edge had been diminished; the Red Room wanted a few skilled assassins, not just one. Her childhood had not been like anyone else's, but she felt that those years were the most normal, most pleasant. Of course, that was partially because of a certain Soldier brought in to instruct them on his methods; though she didn't usually think fondly of that time. As much as she loved him now, they were different people then and their parting had been one of the worst in her life. And she was never one to dwell on the past.

As soon as they touched down in Moscow, people started pulling out their phones. Natasha adjusted her hat, large enough to provide her some cover, and did the same. It wasn't that simple to call Yelena as it was her other friends, perhaps since their lives tended to be a bit more stable. She had to leave a message with her current burner phone number and wait for Yelena to call her back. It never took very long for the turnaround, and today was no different.

By the time Natasha had deplaned, an unknown number was calling.

"Bonjour," she said pleasantly.

"Got your message, Nat. What's up?" Yelena asked in English, sounding a little stressed.

"Is this a bad time?"

She snorted. "No more than usual."

"Alright. Well, I talked to an old friend about my sister."

"Yeah?"

Natasha cleared her throat, glancing around surreptitiously before ducking into the bathroom. Heading to the mirror, she checked her appearance casually while she contemplated how to put her answer. "I'm going to visit her now for her birthday. I was hoping to bring along some company, but I couldn't."

There was a pause. "Couldn't?" Yelena queried softly.

"No one else was available. It'll be a pretty dull party without you."

"I see. Well," Yelena cleared her throat when her voice wavered. "I'll see if I can swing by. Send me the invitation."

Natasha smiled at her reflection, then left the bathroom. "Sounds great. If you're bringing a plus one, please let me know."

"I will."

"See you soon."

"Yeah, soon as I can."

Tucking her phone into the outside pocket of her purse, Natasha moved through the crowd casually headed for the baggage claim. Once she'd picked up her suitcase, in which her arsenal was carefully hidden using some advanced SHIELD tech, she made her way to the taxi drop-off. Adopting the characteristics of a slightly tipsy tourist, she directed the man to the nearest five-star hotel in terrible Russian. The man smiled at her and complied. Natasha always found it helpful to set up a base of operations before engaging with anyone.

The hotel to which she was taken was one of the nicest in the city; she was relatively certain she had been there before. Moscow was a frequent stop for her regardless of her employer. Even SHIELD had sent her to Russia more often than not. Pushing her thoughts of the past away, she focused on finding Anna; it would help her sleep if she found her today, still alive. Then, if the three of them could be together, she might actually get a good night's rest before this was all over.

Helen Eddis, of Security International, was not available for an appointment for another month, Natasha was informed by her secretary over the phone. Posing as a family member (not entirely a lie) gave her little more access, which was a bit unusual in Natasha's experience. Of course, most other times she had tried that tactic, the person in question actually had family members. Anna was, as far as Natasha could tell, quite alone. In any case, she gleaned enough to know that the former Widow was at her office and, at this point, still alive and well.

The building where SI kept its offices was only a few blocks from Natasha's hotel, so she geared up and headed over there on foot. She always found it wise to limit how much traceable transportation she used while on an assignment, thus walking was her usual MO. At least, it had been when she'd worked for SHIELD. She found herself in quinjets or something similar more and more often now, either scouting ahead for the other Avengers or arriving with them. Subtlety was not their forte.

No one on the street gave her any reason to be suspicious, and she made it to the building without mishap. It was a pretty place, and she paused to admire the scenery when the guard at the door gave her a look.

"Excuse me, sir, but my employer sent me here on urgent business with the security company," she told him shyly.

He cleared his throat gruffly. "Appointment only, if you don't have an ID badge," he told her, relenting somewhat.

"I see. But it's really an emergency, and I'll lose my job if I don't get in there," she murmured, leaning toward him with tears in her eyes.

Biting his lip for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder. "Who are you here to see?"

"Helen Eddis. If I could just speak to her, I know she'll be remember me and my employer, and will want to drop everything," she said truthfully.

Perhaps her honesty won him over, because he pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Is the boss available?"

The answer was obscured by static, but Natasha was certain there was an affirmative response.

"I've got a young lady here, a –" he paused, looking over at her.

"Natalie Rushman," she offered, praying that Anna would recognize the name. She didn't think she'd used it in her Red Room days, but it was similar to the real thing. Hopefully similar enough. And she hadn't used it in several years, so hopefully it didn't tip anyone else off.

"Natalie Rushman. She says it's an emergency."

"Copy," the distorted voice said.

The guard frowned down at it, then looked up at her. "Your employer?"

"Andre Rostov." Anna was sure to remember that name, and would connect the dots. They had all been well-trained in these kinds of games, after all.

"Says she works for Andre Rostov," the guard told the disembodied voice.

There was a pause while this was presumably passed along and Natasha rocked back and forth to show her nervousness. "Send her up," the voice said finally.

"Oh, thank you so much!" she gushed, hugging the guard briefly.

He looked a little dazed when she stepped back, as a slow smile grew on his face. "My pleasure, ma'am. Good luck in there." Leaning over, he swiped his ID to gain access to the building, then held the door open for her.

"Thank you!" she called as she hurried inside. A few faces from the front desk glanced her way, and a tall, thin woman walked over to escort her.

"Miss Rushman? This way, please," the woman said.

Natasha followed her to the elevator bay, which lay immediately inside to the right of the front door. There was a corridor there, but no sign of movement that she could see. The elevator doors closed before she could get a better look, which was unnecessary, anyway. She just liked to have a good picture of what she was walking into. Unsurprisingly, the woman was silent on the ride, and Natasha saw no reason to break that silence. If she were someone's assistant, rushing here urgently, it might be reasonable to ease her nervousness by chattering away. However, it being a security firm, Natasha felt it more likely that she'd be quiet and keep her boss' private issues to herself.

In any case, they arrived at the top floor and the woman motioned for her to get off, showing no signs of suspicion or concern. She didn't leave the elevator when Natasha did, and went back down presumably to the ground floor without another word. The room in which Natasha had been deposited was large and spacious, with windows from floor to ceiling. Standing in front of one of them, looking out, was a familiar figure.