A/N: made some edits/added some more details to the last couple chapters

Happy Birthday America (and Steve)

Chapter Forty-Four
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"There's not really much of a story," Antonia mumbled, a little embarrassed. "My father is never home often. I just waited for one of the nights he was gone to sneak out."

Natasha studied her over the top of her beer bottle. "You said you didn't want to go back. Why?"

"I told you," Antonia scowled, throwing up a hand. "He'd be furious! My father is an arrogant bastard. He likes things just so. I am never to go anywhere without an escort, and never without his permission. Can't even take a walk around the house without needing his say-so."

"Hmph," Yelena snorted into her drink, barely hiding an unsympathetic eye roll.

I leaned forward in my seat. "Has your father ever hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" Antonia tilted her head slightly. "Like, has he struck me? No. He can be angry, sometimes. He has his own ways for things. But he's never hurt me. He's just, you know… awful in other ways. It's hard to explain."

"A man doesn't have to touch you in order to hurt you," Natasha replied softly, shaking her head. "I'm sure you felt every reason to leave. But I want to know how. When did this happen?"

"Two months ago," Antonia sighed, slumping back in her seat. "There's a stone wall around the perimeter of the house, but one part is covered in vines that you can use to climb over. I snuck out my window one night and got out that way."

"Security didn't catch you?" Natasha asked skeptically.

"I don't think so," Antonia made a face and shrugged. "It's an older place, so not all these security cameras and heat sensors you see elsewhere. But he always has staff there, and a security team on patrol. But nothing ever happens there, and I think they got lazy, just doing their usual routine. It was easy to guess. I just had to time it right and move fast. And… I was free."

She continued, "It's surrounded by woods, so I had to walk a while before I found a street. Then into town, then on a bus. I didn't really know where I was going. I just wanted to look around. Had a little cash. It wasn't much. I guess I didn't really have a plan. I knew I'd probably go back eventually, even if I didn't want to. Figured it was better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission when they finally caught up to me."

"You just wandered around on your own? For days?" Yelena asked, dropping her glass to emphasize how stunned she felt. "I can't believe you didn't get into trouble sooner."

"It wasn't so bad," Antonia said, making a face. "I mean, not as easy as I thought. I thought people might be nicer… but it wasn't as scary as Father made it out to be, either. Not everyone is trying to get me."

"What happened next?" I asked. It seemed to me that Antonia was a bit naive, though if her story was true, then she wouldn't have known any better. It was hard to believe in that level of ignorance, considering the world I had lived in for so long. The one she lived right next to, all this time, and never even realized. It didn't seem possible.

"These men cornered me one night, outside a little shop," Antonia said. "I don't know how long they've been following me. Or if they just picked me out at random. But they seemed to know who I was. They asked me if my father knew where I was, how naughty I've been. And that I was going to get a lesson about what happened to girls that behaved like I did. And then…" her voice trailed off, choking quietly. "And then everything turned into a nightmare,"

"Human traffickers," Natasha surmised with neither sympathy nor dismissal. Just a cold hard fact. "They put you in that container with the other girls."

"Yes, but not at first. First they stuffed me into a van," Antonia squeezed her eyes shut at the memory, looking pained. "They said… awful things. What would be done to me. Where I was going. But in that way to scare you, without actually telling you. I didn't see any other girls until the third hotel they moved me to. Then they brought us all to the container, where even more girls were kept. They were all different. Some were just children, did you see that?" Her eyes turned glassy with tears. "And the men kept mentioning my father. Like they knew him. I thought they were just going to sell me for ransom."

"They knew him," Natasha said slowly, as if testing the waters. "Because they work for him."

Antonia's head snapped up in alarm. "No!"

Yelena cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. "Uh. Yeah."

When neither Natasha or Yelena backpedaled, Antonia finally looked to me, pleading, as if I might believe her story over theirs. "He would never do that! He's not a good man, but he'd never —"

"What? Commit crimes?" Yelena barked a cold laugh. "Fund his empire with blood and bodies? Where were those girls going, do you think? How much do you think you'd have to endure before your father finally decided you'd learned your lesson, and let you come back home?"

All the blood had drained from Antonia's face. She could only shake her head slowly, still in faint denial. She wiped at her face, hard, and in the midst of trying not to look like she was crying, Natasha reached into her pocket and popped the cap off a vial while Antonia was distracted. She'd just looked up when a puff of that glowing red antidote blew into her face.

Antonia recoiled hard, coughing and pinching her nose. "Ugh! What was that for?

"Just in case," Natasha said without elaborating further, pocketing the vial once more before Antonia could get a good look at it. We all studied Antonia for a minute, to see if it had any significant effect; it only seemed to distract her from her current shock and misery. She just looked a little annoyed. Natasha continued, "What's Chernobog?"

"What?" Antonia was still blinking away the red dust, squinting and waving a hand in front of her face. "Like the old myths?"

"No, whatever that girl was talking about," Natasha said. "It got them all riled up, they said the men threatened them with something called 'Chernobog'. They didn't mention anything to you?"

"I've heard them say it," Antonia admitted, and looking a little embarrassed she added, "I thought they were just, you know… crazy. Maybe high on drugs. Some of them were sedated because they couldn't calm down. And maybe some of the men threatened them with monsters from old wives' tales to scare them straight. Like telling them Baba Yaga was coming to get them and use their bones for soup. It wasn't real."

"I see," Natasha replied, looking unconvinced. "So you've never heard it used in that way before? Never something your father mentioned?"

"No."

"Does he mention any other location he goes to often?"

Antonia thought about it for a bit. "He travels frequently. I see him maybe once or twice a month. I sometimes go with him, but that's only for private events in big cities. I'm not allowed to wander off."

"Nothing about safehouses? Compounds?" Nat pressed, with a little more intensity. We were all leaning in to absorb Antonia's answers, discern her honesty. "A secret base?"

"He really doesn't tell me anything," Antonia insisted, with an aggrieved look at the interrogation. "He wants me to look pretty for all his stupid old golfing friends. Not that they actually golf as far as I've seen. Says his business isn't meant for a girl's ears. He takes a helicopter to and from our home. He prefers air travel. The only other place we've been to is the castle, but only when the weather is good."

"The castle," Natasha repeated, glancing at Yelena to see if this meant something; but she only shook her head slightly. "What kind of castle?"

"A nice one," Antonia smiled, perhaps despite her own feelings about the matter. "He named it Kitezh, after the story of the sinking city. Said he built it himself. I guess that's what you do when you're a man with more money than God. He loves building monuments to himself."

"That sounds like him," Yelena muttered in reluctant agreement. "The place he kept us wasn't a castle, though. It must be some tertiary base he's keeping somewhere. Maybe a launch point."

"Well, if he wanted to build a castle, this is the continent to build one in," Natasha sighed; finding whatever castle — new or old, that a supervillain built or bought — would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

"I can't imagine why, though." I said. "Seems easier to just buy one. HYDRA's got a pretty solid reputation for it, and of keeping it under wraps, too. If he built his own, it's probably to include modern modifications you can't do with older structures."

Antonia nodded as if this made sense. "He called it his sanctum sanctorum. The safest place in the world. Impenetrable. Protected on all sides. But I guess every castle is like that until they're not. It's like naming a ship Titanic."

Her doubt regarding her own father was refreshing, for me at least. Natasha seemed to agree. "Well, we'll save that for later, then. First, your home. How far away is it from here?"

"It's in Russia," Antonia sniffled, finally recovering and looking a little mad about it. "Outside Moscow. Not close, I guess. I didn't realize they'd taken us so far away." Then, perhaps sensing Natasha's motivation, she frowned suspiciously. "Why? Are you going to take me back?"

"Not exactly," Natasha pursed her lips, and gestured with her fingers in a wishy-washy gesture. "If your father actually lives there, then I want to see it."

"Especially if he might come back." Yelena added, a manic spark in her eye, as if she were already thinking about what she wanted to do to that man.

"He won't," I replied, to Yelena's disappointment and Antonia's relief. Natasha cut me a look, and I added. "If he knew where his daughter was this entire time, then he'll figure we have her by now. He won't go back there. And if he does…"

"It wouldn't be alone," Natasha agreed. "But if the security is as light as you say, Dreykova, then I don't think it'll be a long trip. Just in and out. You don't have to stay."

Antonia still looked reluctant, but acquiesced with a heavy sigh. "Fine. I guess it would be weird if an Avenger actually did something… evil."

A muscle twitched at the corner of Nat's eye. Yelena hid a smile behind her bottle. "You have no idea, princess."

Natasha cut her a sharp look, then tapped the tabletop with her fingers. "We'll head out tomorrow morning. Right now we need showers and sleep. I'm not pulling another all-nighter driving across borders."

Antonia frowned between the two older women. "Are you two… sisters?"

"No," Natasha answered just as Yelena opened her mouth to answer.

"And don't let the magazines fool you," Yelena added after a venomous look. "All the silly poses and stuff — little girls want a little Barbie doll of Black Widow now, their favorite superhero. They don't say she's not a trained killer in all the press releases. The Avengers aren't really her family, either. She's just going through a phase."

The looks exchanged between widows had me feeling a little uncomfortable, like watching two predators starting to square up.

"They have a lot of history," I finally said, breaking the little silence, that stand-off, between the two of them. Trying to sound diplomatic, I added, "Lots to catch up on. You know how it is."

Antonia had that expression that she very much did not know how it was. "Well. If you say so."

Throwing a significant look at Nat, I wanted to emphasize the point of not freaking out Antonia. She was technically here against her will, probably hadn't attempted an escape because she knew she was outmatched. But if she thought these two were too distracted with each other, maybe she thought she had an opportunity.

"If we all behave we might even get our own beds," Natasha finally said, with just a hint of wryness, a warning glance in Yelena's direction. Apparently that was a tempting enough offer to get the White Widow to back off, arms folded and scowling.

We did not, in fact, get our own beds.

The best hotel was a motel, and the biggest room was two queens and a pullout couch. So at least two had to share. Antonia, by virtue of being the odd one out and the one we didn't trust equally, got to have her own bed. Much to Yelena's annoyance about the "princess" always getting what she wants, I wasn't going to argue so long as everyone showered and the room smelled okay.

Antonia was the first to shower, and the first to go bed, not even waiting for the rest of us to catch up before turning off her bedside lamp. Nine o'Clock on the dot and she was out. At least she didn't complain.

I was next in line, and by the time I came out, Yelena and Natasha were hanging out on the railing on the outside walkway, the room door cracked open to let in warm summer air. I did my best to brush my curls with my fingers, working out the worst of the knots while the two commiserate quietly over some extra drinks. It seemed whatever tiff they had before was over now, and the air more relaxed.

I wasn't really paying attention to the conversation, exhausted and feeling sleepy after the shower; only vaguely aware of something about teachers and building houses or something. Oddly mundane for a couple of Widows. The "new" clothes I had were the usual thrifted/stolen variety, this time an old faded band shirt for Joan Jett & the Blackhearts; some soft sweatpant shorts that were nice on a summer night. I eyed the bracelet of Vibranium beads around my wrist, wondering when Dad would finally contact me. If the Wakandan civil war had been resolved or if it continued; if they'd already lost. If he was dead.

Though I knew that wasn't possible. Couldn't be. Not him.

I wanted to go back inside and try and turn on the TV for the news, but that would risk waking up Antonia. And I was trying my best to keep things peaceful. As peaceful as it could be, all things considered.

"What about you?" Yelena asked, startling me out of my reverie.

"What about me?" I replied when I realized she was talking to me. Yelena didn't sound accusatory, and Natasha had a pensive, far-away expression, so I kept my hackles down.

"Reinvent your life," Yelena said, sipping her drink. "How would you change your story?"

Though her question was casual, I also noticed that spark in Yelena's eyes, watching me very carefully. Even if it was a silly question, she'd be picking apart whatever I said in her mind. Remembering what Natasha said about not saying too much about myself, I considered for a moment before answering.

"Oh, I don't know," I said, waffling between the wariness of Yelena and the wistfulness of a life I didn't have. "I'd probably be applying for colleges right now. Probably have something like Debate Club champion or Class President on my resume. My mom's a nurse and she and my dad are doing the co-parenting thing pretty well."

"Co-parenting?" Yelena repeated with a baffled frown.

"Yeah, they're not together," I said, shrugging. It wasn't real, but given all that's happened, I had always wondered how Mom might've done things if she were still here. "My mom never really cared about getting married. I think she once called it an 'outdated institution that's outlasted its usefulness'. But she still likes my dad. They're friends, and she's never needed to be in a relationship to be happy. My dad's got a girlfriend, though." At Yelena's snort at the perceived drama, I quickly added, "No, she's cool! SHe's not trying to replace my mom or anything. ,I think she and my dad are happy together. Happier than they were apart. They get each other, you know? And she's there for me, too. They all are. It's not a traditional family, I guess. But I'm happy."

"Huh," Yelena said, brow furrowing as she mulled that one over. I was so focused on her that I almost didn't notice Nat looking at me, the tiny smile on her face.

I smiled back.

"So, like," Yelena gestured vaguely with a bottle in hand. "What, no boyfriend, girlfriend, in this new life of yours? It's just about everyone else?"

"I dunno," I shrugged again. "Dating would just make things complicated."

It might've been an innocuous question, but i wasn't dumb. I wasn't going to tell Yelena about anyone I may or may not having feelings for, who may or may not be real. I would've wanted something better for Dmitri, too — but she didn't need to know about him specifically. "The last guy I dated was probably better off without me ever in his life, so I think I'm good."

Yelena laughed into her drink. "Yeah, I bet. What man can handle a Terminator?"

Natasha kicked her shin. "Be nice."

"What?" Yelena protested. "It's a compliment! It's the men who are lacking, you know that."

"I know what you mean," I said before Nat could take further offense on my behalf. Yelena was teasing, but she wasn't wrong, either. "Not a lot of dating when most boys at my school are scared of me and half of them are so insecure they make it my fault. The girls can be just as mean. Maybe worse."

Definitely worse.

"School fucking sucks," Yelena agreed with a confident nod. "At least in the Red Room I got to kill the girls who tried to sabotage me."

"Yelena!" Nat admonished.

"Oh, come on! You did the same thing!" Yelena shot back, a little mocking. "Sure, it was all fancied up beneath rituals and tests, but it was all just a guise so the strongest could take out her competition. The Madame would let you get away with it if she liked you enough." Yelena said this last part to me.

"She was a monster." Natasha added, as if that needed clarification. "The Madame always said we were bonded by a natural sisterhood between all women. But that sisterhood was only for those who survived."

"And it wasn't much of a sisterhood then, either," Yelena muttered into her drink.

"None of us were ever really family," Natasha explained, averting her gaze. "She wouldn't allow it. No loyalty could eclipse ours for her. Child to mother."

"I hate that I miss it, you know?" Yelena said, whipping her head around to Nat, looking torn between distress and humor. "That's crazy-person talk, yeah? But the Red Room was leagues better than what it was like under Dreykov."

"Doesn't sound crazy to me," Natasha shook her head. "The first circle of Hell must feel like heaven after you've seen the ninth."

"And I don't even want to imagine what they put you through," Yelena added for my benefit; a short nod, like a notion of respect.

I laughed despite myself. "I remember the Red Room. It's certainly prettier than where I was trained."

"Eh, you probably didn't get to see all of it," Yelena grimaced. "But I'll take a hundred Comrade Goncharova's before I'd ever have the Winter Soldier for a master." She shuddered.

"He wasn't so bad," I murmured, mostly to myself. But by the equal head tilts, I surmised they both heard me. Flushing, I looked away, mumbling, "He never hurt me more than he had to. He kept me safe."

"Ohh," Yelena said, before smirking and wiggling her eyebrows. "So it was like that, huh?"

"What?" I did a double-take when I realized what she meant. "Ew, no! It wasn't like that!"

"What was it like, then?" Yelena demanded, her eyes narrowing with intrigue, her smile sharpening.

"Alright, I think that's enough for tonight," Natasha interrupted just as I was about to open my mouth. Without missing a beat, she plucked the bottle from Yelena's hand. "Early day tomorrow, and I know none of us are deep sleepers."

Relieved to finally exit that particular topic, I was all too happy to retreat; meanwhile, Yelena whined melodramatically, in what I thought was a concentrated effort to aggravate Nat specifically.

"You never talk about him," I overheard Yelena say as I ducked into the bathroom. Even over the running faucet I could hear her clear as day. She had switched to Russian, as if to make it extra secret. "The Soldat. Is that why you keep her around? I didn't realize she was that young. Too young to have known him like you have."

"Is that why you had to ask her that question?" Natasha asked, sounding disgusted. "You already knew it wasn't true."

"So?" Yelena dismissed it.

"So? You're lucky she didn't hit you! And that would've hurt coming from her. It's what you deserve for making a disgusting man's joke like that."

"I didn't mean it! You know I never do," Yelena sighed, annoyed. "We're taught how to get reactions, and I got the one I wanted. God, you're just no fun anymore since you left. The Madame kept it all hush-hush, but there were rumors."

"I'm sure there were," Nat replied dryly. The clink of bottles thrown into the recycling bin. "You could've asked me then, too. You were there."

"Oh, please, with the Madame watching you like a hawk, and in isolation half the time?" Yelena scoffed. "Never had the chance. Was it true you went through re-education twice for what you two did?"

"No," Natasha said, her voice toneless. "It was three."

A low whistle. "And you still defected. For him."

I'd known about this already, to a certain extent. Only from Dad's point of view, though; he'd been vague about it in the usual manner he has when it's a painful memory not worth reliving. Just that he'd allowed himself to be compromised, though I had always wondered if it was more than that. If the feelings were genuine on both sides. Which, of course, would have made the resulting punishments worse when they got caught.

And if it was that bad for Natasha, then I couldn't imagine the kind of mind-wiping HYDRA performed on him to rectify the situation. It hadn't occurred to me that it might've been the catalyst to Natasha's escape, however.

"Not for him," Natasha finally answered after a moment, her voice softer now. "He was lost to me by then. I did it for myself. I couldn't save anyone else."

"You tried to," Yelena said, and there was a long pause. Not her usual caustic bluster.

"I did," Nat confirmed, an empty sound. "Are you mad it wasn't you?"

"Hm. Not anymore," Yelena paused. "I just wished you had succeeded."

"Yeah. Me, too."

It occurred to me that they were no longer talking about the Winter Soldier. Someone else, a third person, that Natasha tried to take with her when she ran away from the Red Room. Another Widow, I figured, before my time. Maybe still in the Red Room even now.

"Hey, what's taking so long in there?" Yelena tapped on the door, and I knew there was no hiding left for me to do. Couldn't hang around and try to eavesdrop forever. No matter how interesting this conversation was turning out to be, how badly I wanted to know what was going on.

Upon stepping out, I found Yelena and Natasha on opposite sides of the hotel room, as if the prior conversation had never occurred at all. It wasn't worth poking the bear to satiate my curiosity; I just quietly hunkered down on the pull-out couch that was my bed for the night. No one was particularly eager to sleep next to each other, but Yelena and Natasha ultimately ended up taking the last remaining bed in lieu of either having to bunk with Antonia.

Throughout it all, Dreykov's daughter remained fast asleep, out like a light after her ordeal. I tried to bite back my jealousy as I closed my eyes, and hoped my dreams would be just as uneventful.

Spinning that bracelet round and round.

Thinking of another life I'd never have.