This was produced in a major hurry. Enjoy (or not, it's your life). Don't own anything. Love you all. The usual.

Natalia picked the lock when she wanted to stretch after everyone went to sleep. She raised her hands above her head, feeling her back pop and click. Slowly, she made her way across the room and picked another girl's lock as she slept. Wordlessly, Viktoriya sat up, blinking. They sat in silence, feeling a small measure of power in escaping the chains. Natalia was very aware that they could not make it far. There was a part of her that didn't want to. She knew she was safe among her known world. The instructors doted on her and the other girls feared her.

"You should at least try to leave." Natalia whispered at last, "That way, there's at least a chance—"

"I won't make it far." Viktoriya took her hand. Natalia instinctively flinched at the contact. Contact meant pain. Even if it didn't immediately hurt, Natalia knew it would eventually. Viktoriya was no different.

"There's no harm in trying at this point." Viktoriya shook her head, wrapping her arms around her knobby knees. Natalia saw no point in urging her further. Once a girl gave up, she decided to die. That was the way of the Red Room.

The next morning, Viktoriya was led away from the other girls. Natalia kept her eyes focused on the back of another girl's head as they stood for inspection. A gentle hand splayed against the small of her back. She didn't look up at the trainer. He had a strange way of showing affection for her and she didn't like it. Natalia still didn't flinch when she heard the gun go off.

"Viktoriya will no longer be with us." Ivan spoke calmly and lightly as he walked in, storing the gun in a side holster, "She was an imperfect specimen. Unfortunately, one of her legs became longer than the other, causing her spine to twist. We have no use for that kind of deformity here."

Viktoriya was yet another thing to place in her blue room.

"Better form." Natalia barked at the girls sparring before her watchful eye.

Many things had changed since she was a little girl. They were trained in the art of hacking, of changing their identity through their electronic paper trails. One of the girls (a squirrely little blonde with weak arms) growled and bit the other one, causing her to shriek and push back, "Viktoriya, use your height."

The smaller brunette threw the blonde over her shoulder and pinned her. It was the part where she was supposed to call for a kill. It was the best way to weed out weaknesses like weak arms and slow minds. Ivan walked through the door, his notebook open and bent.

"All right, that's enough for now." Natalia clapped, causing the girls to separate. She crossed the hall to join Ivan, "What are you working on?"

"Fishing." Ivan replied.

"I'm not Natasha, Ivan." Natalia informed him solemnly, "I'm Natalia Romanova."

"Then tell Viktoriya to kill Alisa."

"Why? They're both useful."

"But we only need one."

"You're being illogical, Ivan." Natalia plucked his notebook from his hands and flipped through it, committing highlights of his notes to memory before he can steal it back, "Natasha ruined what I built."

"We shall fix what we can." Ivan rubbed the stubble growing on his chin.

Natalia stepped forward, rubbing her hand along his jawline. She felt his shudder. He couldn't help it, "I trust you. I've always trusted you. Please fix this. Please help me."

He seized her by her wrist, "You can start by ceasing this nonsense."

Natalia rolled her eyes at him, "If you wish. But I remember things differently—if you decide to remember properly, you know where to find me."

Ivan ignored her, "I think you should start with cutting out the infected flesh. Get rid of the life Natasha decided to live in your skin."

Natalia pondered this for a moment, "Her weaknesses."

Lena was a lot like Natasha, only she was more open and upfront about her feelings. Once the need for a blank face seemed to go, her look of terror at being tossed into the car next to Bruce was evident. He understood it. There was a part of him that still wanted to hurt her—break her—smash her—for ever hurting Natasha, but his more reasonable side reminded him over and over again that she was a victim of her environment. She didn't ask to be a part of any of this. So he patted her shoulder and ignored the way she flinched. Clint made his way to the safe house through the growing blizzard, barely able to follow the twists and turns Steve took ahead of them. Bruce tumbled out and was about to help Lena when she sprang past him and landed in the snow.

They walked in a sullen and windswept line until they felt the warmth of the house.

"Okay, we've got two twin beds and a sofa. Battle it out. Whoever loses gets a sleeping bag."

Lena wordlessly went ahead and took a sleeping back, laying it down in front of a wood pellet stove. She pulled off her boots and shrugged off her winter gear, hanging it to dry. Left over was the gun, a handgun of some sort, several combat knives and a long wire with a triangular handle at each end. Bruce noted that it was almost like ritual. Lena looked up, fully aware that he was watching.

Clint threw a sleeping bag at the back of his head, "You're on the floor too."

Bruce didn't really mind. He placed his sleeping bag a foot away from Lena's so that he could still be warm. He always felt cold after a transformation, and Russia was not helping at all. Lena acknowledged this by placing a single knife between them. They both knew it wouldn't do her any good, but it was a boundary that had to be marked. While everyone else settled and fell asleep, they remained awake.

She lay facing him, examining him like he was some sort of captive zoo animal. Lena held out her hand and poked the tip of his chin with her index finger, muttering something in Russian.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

She blinked. Her eyes were so big but they didn't look particularly innocent, "She said you're trustworthy." Her fingers curled away and rested a few inches away from his neck.

"Why do you trust her?" Bruce asked honestly. Why could Lena trust Natasha in a matter of days, when he loved her and still wondered if he did the right thing in trusting her.

Lena closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, "I had to see what would happen if I did?"

"And?"

"I feel like I've escaped—even though we're so close—I feel like I'm—" Lena's eyebrows knitted together, "I don't know these words."

"I'm sorry I scared you." Bruce whispered, "I just want Natasha to be safe."

Lena rolled over, and pulled the blanket over her head, "You are an idiot. That's what I said."

Inside her blue room, Natasha remained composed, despite the fact that Natalia was laughing. Natalia was lashing out again. When Natalia was happy, it would lead to destruction. Natasha wouldn't stand for that. So she sat there gripping her blue box with whitening knuckles.

"You've still got that box."

"You've got great powers of observation. I'm sorry. You really can't take a look." Natasha shook her head.

"I'm going to kill them all."

"No you won't."

"Clint and Laura Barton. Their lovely children, their baby boy. If he's still alive, I'll find Alexei Shostakov I'll cut his stomach open. Tony, Pepper, Steve, it doesn't matter. I'll get rid of them. I'll get rid of all of them."

"You won't, Natalia. I know you won't."

"Why not?!"

"Because it won't make you feel better. Just like killing those ballerinas didn't make you feel better."

"But it did. Why did they get to go home when I couldn't?"

Natasha shook her head. Natalia took the chance, leaping across the room and grabbing the box that was in her loosened grip. Natasha cried out as Natalia dumped its contents all over the floor. Natalia sat back. "Well that's a surprise."

"Natalia—"

Natalia tipped her head back and started laughing hysterically, uncontrollably. She felt like crying. She felt like falling apart. She felt like killing. She felt like hating. She felt like loving. She felt like the world had just handed her the answer to a question she had been asking since she took Ivan Petrovich's hand. Natasha's control paled in comparison to the chaos that Natalia could unleash. They were secrets better than nuclear codes, better than a thousand other ways to wipe life off earth, better than the simple act of leaving a painful mark on someone. Natasha was trying to bar the doors, to keep them both inside her mind where Natalia couldn't hurt anyone. That was almost as futile as when Natalia tried to convince the first Viktoriya to leave.

"What if we could kill Bruce Banner?"