I have been in a strange headspace recently. I'm done with high school, haven't gone to work, and am leaving the country next week. On top of that, my estranged mother is in the hospital and everyone has their own idea of what I should do with my life. My reaction? Shut down and write some fanfiction and some crap poetry. It's a way to keep busy. Anyway, yay more bonus chapters! I really have no idea how many more I want to do. I just get these little ideas and run with them.
Bruce bit his lip, trying to think of the proper thing to say as Svetlana got closer and closer to them.
"It's nice." Natasha wasn't trying very hard at not looking amused.
"It's a little demeaning."
"It's a gesture of good will."
"It's a face nailed on a tree."
"It's sweet of them."
"It's killing a tree."
"It's displaying a sense of empathy and affection, which is very healthy considering their background. We're lucky that none of them exhibit signs of the MacDonald Triad."
"Natasha?"
"Yes?"
"They nailed a green sculpture to a tree and told me it was a green man like me. They may not be psychopathic, but it's a bit twisted."
Natasha sighed and took his hand, "Let's go inside—"
"Do you like it?" Bruce sighed, turning towards the ten year old Svetlana. She twisted her long blonde braid in her hands as she waited for him to reply. Behind her, Alisa and Viktoriya stood with their hands clasped together.
"It's—what exactly is it?"
"It's a Celtic green man. My art teacher says that they're all over the British Isles. It's a bloodsucker head because it's got vines spewing out of his tear ducts. I couldn't get the vines right though, so they kind of just look like snakes."
Bruce eventually settled for patting her head, "It's nice, Svetlana."
"Thank you." She turned to Natasha and held out a package wrapped in paper, "I also made a spider!"
Natasha took one look at the lumpy, misshapen mass that was supposed to resemble a black widow spider and said, without a pause, "We'll put it on the fireplace mantle."
Svetlana sat in therapy, staring at Dr. Thomas. The woman seemed almost uncomfortable to be in her presence. While Svetlana understood that, it still gave her an uneasy sensation after the warmth and openness that Bruce, Natasha, and even the other girls embraced her with.
"They took me when I was six. I snapped two girls' necks and I smothered one with a pillow."
"Do you think that you are a danger to your peers?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Do you think you could harm them."
"Of course I could, but I wouldn't." Svetlana looked down at her lap, wringing her hands nervously, "I broke their necks because I was ordered to."
"And the girl you smothered?"
"She—she asked me to. Tattie—her name was Natalia but I called her Tattie. They made her kill Hana. She wanted to go because she didn't want to do it again. They'd hurt her before they'd kill her." Svetlana was shaking, "They rewarded me. They thought I had an edge over the others—I was their favorite because she wanted to die and I helped weed out a 'weakling'. It was wrong. I know it was wrong. She was my friend, Dr. Thomas."
Dr. Thomas was writing again. Svetlana always hated that. She took notes on everything she said, looking for signs that she should be locked up or taken away. She knew how that worked. They were worried about her because she didn't make friends like the rest of them. The house they lived in with Natasha had four bedrooms aside from Bruce and Natasha's room. In theory, the room off the entry was supposed to be a living room (which, to Svetlana's understanding, was just a less functional copy of the room they had combined with the kitchen) had been turned into Svetlana and Lena's room but Svetlana preferred going up into the attic and setting up her blankets in the dormer window facing the sea.
She knew she set off alarm bells, but she couldn't help it.
When she was done, Bruce was in the waiting room. He grinned at her, giving a small awkward wave.
"Bye, Svetlana. I'll see you tomorrow." Svetlana was very aware of the fact that she was only girl that still had her every day, rather than every other day, or every week. Tatiana didn't even go to therapy anymore.
Silently, she followed Bruce out to the car and sat in the back, "So. How was it?"
Usually, Svetlana didn't say anything, "I don't think Dr. Thomas likes me very much. She thinks there's something wrong with me and she's right."
"There's nothing wrong with you, Svetlana. You got a shit deal—"
"Language."
"—that's our little secret. Anyway, you are doing fantastic. The fact that you're worrying about it is proof enough." Bruce pulled into a strip mall parking lot. Svetlana followed him out of the car without asking any questions. They entered an ice cream shop with big pictures of sundaes and ice cream cones all over the place.
"Anything on the menu."
Svetlana was overwhelmed by all the possibilities. The old lady at the counter grinned at her star struck expression, "Special occasion eh?"
"Just a treat." Bruce replied while Svetlana continued to stare.
At last, she pointed at a large picture, "That one with the bananas."
"On it." The lady held up her ice cream scoop like it was a wand.
Bruce paid at the register and sat in front of her with the giant, three scoop sundae dwarfing his scoop of vanilla in a cup. Svetlana immediately started eating. It seemed like something out of a show that she watched on the television. Out of habit, she watched from the corner of her eye as a boy in a Thor shirt approached them.
"Are you—you're Bruce Banner right?"
Bruce sighed heavily. Svetlana felt on edge immediately, "Yes."
"You're so cool. I read your papers. I want to go into molecular biology so I'm in physics right now. Who's this?"
Svetlana looked up at the red faced boy and cocked her head to the side. They had kept the Red Room Girls out of the media for the most part, but he seemed to know what she was. He wanted to know who she was. He crouched down to eye level and held out his hand to shake.
"Svetlana." Hesitantly she took it with a limp grip and he shook it gently.
"That's a pretty name. It's nice to meet you. I'm Ted." He straightened up, "I have to go. Anyway, it's nice to see you both enjoying yourselves."
When he left, Svetlana smiled into her sundae and Bruce leaned in, "See? You've got introductions down. It took me ages to figure that one out. Soon enough, you'll be talking everyone's ear off." He noted Svetlana's confusion, "It means you'll talk a lot."
The next day, Mrs. Avery the art teacher wanted to get them started on clay and Svetlana decided to make Bruce a gift.
Natasha sat in a chair across from Fury. He looked at her with his one good eye, "I have a mission for you, if you're interested."
"Do I really have a choice? I've been busy making sure there aren't eleven more people like me running against you."
"Which is admirable, but there's still the remaining nine and the operatives likely selling their services to the highest bidder." Fury replied flatly. "Find them. Preferably take them in alive—the one's we deem fit can be tossed in the little retreat you have going—" Natasha wanted to whack him over the head at that, but resisted for the sake of keeping the peace, "—and the other ones can be kept away from the public. Breaking up the Red Room was necessary, but there's also a lot of loose ends to cover."
Natasha nodded, "When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow preferably. Think Banner can keep them in line for that long?"
"Guess he won't have a choice." Natasha rose, "I'll be in tomorrow."
She drove home—home was an interesting term at that point—to find most of the girls home from school and Bruce in the kitchen. Irina peeked at her from the landing above before running back to meet Veronika and Eva. She walked behind him and wrapped her arms around him.
"This can't be good." He turned away from the stir fry.
"Hmmm?" She pressed a kiss at the corner of his lip.
"You're going somewhere, aren't you?"
"Yes. Pay attention." Bruce made a sound and turned, twisting the dial to zero and switching burners.
"How long?"
"Not sure. Two weeks, maybe."
"Oh." Natasha didn't like his hurt tone.
She stepped back and settled at the kitchen table. Outside, Viktoriya, Alisa, and Lena were playing with a soccer ball. Svetlana was messing around in the mud beneath her green man tree for some reason. Sofiya and Katya, the youngest were chasing each other freely while Nina sat amongst the chaos reading a book. Natasha almost forgot to reply.
"There's nine more." She sat forward, rubbing her forehead, "They slipped away when Natalia—" At the mention of Natalia, Bruce stiffened then relaxed again, "—left them to find you. We won't find the operatives over sixteen. They're too good. If they want to be found, they will be. The girls that haven't graduated or been subjected to the serum will be relatively easy. It's my job, Bruce."
He put the pan on the table and sat in the chair directly next to her, taking her hands in his, "We'll be waiting, Nat."
She leaned up against him, breathing deeply and giggling, "What a cliché thing to say."
Bruce chuckled, "Dinner's ready. Where's Tatiana?"
"She joined the chess club. They meet on Thursdays."
"Seriously? Even I wasn't that big of a nerd."
"Don't judge. She's making friends." Natasha practically sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around him, "Just don't let them burn the studio down, okay? That's sacred."
"Why can't we burn down the studio? What?" Irina walked in, "I smelled the food—why are you sitting on his lap?"
"Because she loves me very much."
Irina made a face. Natasha snorted. She supposed there were a few things that were universal, no matter what upbringing a child had.