Chapter Text
A family with no particular story, living in Pennsylvania. A couple, Miss and Mister Dawson, supposedly both in the bank industry. One kid maybe two according to the SHIELD file. A perfect little American life.
Natasha continued the file paying attention to detail like she always had, at every mission she was assigned. The couple was suspected of synthesizing drugs and selling them to private organizations. What drugs? The file didn’t tell. What private organization? Didn’t tell either. There were just three receipts of various transactions and texts weirdly written in an almost code-like manner. She knew that the case wouldn’t have been assigned to her unless it was in some way important. Could be Hydra she deducted, closing the thin file on the conference room table. Seemed boring enough to distract her a bit.
The door opened revealing Maria followed shortly by Steve. She was confused, even if this was Hydra she was more than capable enough to arrest both of them and retract the children without any problems. So why was he also here? Steve looked as perplexed as her.
She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at Maria in a way to indict her confusion.
“Stop looking at me like that, you know I wouldn’t put you both on a team just for any reason,” Maria said while motioning for Steve to take a seat.
The screen on the wall opposed the table lit up and projected two pictures.
“Miss and Mister Dawson, both supposed bank workers. Problem: we don't have anything else on them. No life prior, no high school or college diploma, and no old home. Nothing. We have a marriage certificate that is supposedly fake. One kid for sure, named Lucy Dawson, age estimated at 5-6 years old. We suspected that she is not really theirs, just a stunt to make them blend in as an average family and not drug dealers. We suspect another girl, two or three, but we have no info on her.”
She visibly tensed up. This was looking awfully similar to Ohio. But that wasn’t her, the red room was gone. She needed to keep herself straight. It wasn’t the red room. The red room is gone. She forced out a breath. Yelena was out. She is living in an apartment in New York, two blocks away from the tower. She took it down. She took down the red room. It doesn’t exist anymore. Focus. Focus on the mission. This isn’t her or about her. Focus.
“Whoever did their cover did a terrible job,” Maria continued switching off the projector. “Anyway. The mission plan is pretty simple. Arrest them, put the kids to safety, and bring them back to SHIELD headquarters they should be a CPS crew waiting for them. Another team will search the house afterward. Any questions?”
“Do we know who they work for?” Steve asked while reading the file in front of him.
“Unclear, could be Hydra. Honestly, we don’t know a lot but we do know they are not simple drug dealers. No one would put a cover with kids in a neighborhood just for that. There is something else.”
Hydra, it was Hydra, not the red room. This was fine. A simple extract mission like she did hundreds of them. A knot started to form in her stomach. Something was wrong.
She and Yelena. On the tarmac, she has a gun in her hands. Her small hand trembled in fear. She needs to save her. Melina is bleeding and Dreykov is talking with Alexei. She needs to save her. Save her little sister. She can’t go back. Yelena couldn’t go with her. She’ll die. She’s too young. Too young to know hands on her body. Too young to fight to the death.
A dark room. She is in a dark room. Her body shivers. It’s cold. She knows what’s next. She knocks her head on the metal headboard of the bed. She can’t go back. She’ll rather die.
She looked around at the small conference room. A sagged breath escaped her lips. She is safe. SHIELD, Avenger, the red room is gone. She looks around trying to name seven things she sees. Steve, Maria, the file, the table, the broken chair in the corner, a pen, and the lipstick-stained mug that belongs to Maria. She was made of marble. She couldn’t break.
Maria noticed something was wrong. She knew Natasha well enough and asked silently if she was okay when Steve wasn’t looking her way.
“I’m fine, do we know what drugs they synthesize?” Natasha forced out.
“No, we don’t, we hope to know after the mission with the house search,” Maria answered. “Be ready at 0800 tomorrow. If you don’t have anything else to add you're dismissed, ”Steve got the file on the table and left rather quickly, leaving Maria and Natasha alone in the conference room. Maybe he noticed? She needed to do better.
Maria approached her, bringing her hand to her face. She took her hand and intertwined them with hers, melting to the touch. “Everything okay? You’re sure?” Maria asked gently.
“Yeah don’t worry. I didn’t sleep well, that's all,” Natasha lied, forcing out a smile. Maria visibly noticed and furrowed her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. They may have known each other for years. Natasha didn’t like talking about the red room. Especially Ohio. Maria didn’t know. She couldn’t know. She knows about Yelena but that’s all. She doesn’t imagine that she lived in the United States with her own fake family years ago and she still can talk about it. It’s too hard. Too emotional. She’ll break, and widows don't break. She was made of marble, and marble doesn’t break.
“Promise you tell me if it’s too much Nat,”
“I promise,” she looked up at her with a faint smile before escaping the room leaving an anxious Maria alone.
They were just outside the house, waiting for the suitable moment to break in. The front yard was glorious: white picket fence, freshly planted flowers, and green and laminated grass. Picture perfect but nothing indicating any children. No toys, nothing. Good, maybe the children were false intel. Just a normal very boring arrest mission. Natasha forced out a breath, it was nothing like Ohio and she really needed to keep herself together. Even if Steve wasn’t a spy, they were close enough for him to notice when Natasha was tense and that was the last thing she wanted.
When the bedroom light shut out at approximately 03:00, they went in. Natasha burst the door and cleared the first floor while Steve took the second one. The living room, kitchen, and dining area were clear. Nothing indicated drug dealing or even suspicious activities altogether and again no sign of any children.
She heard a harsh noise coming from the floor above. Like someone was thrown across the room. She ran upstairs finding Steve struggling against a man. Steve never struggled, especially in combat. She hadn't any time to react when a woman stormed at her and pushed her against the dresser. The woman lunged forward, she dodged the punches easily and countered with a swift kick to her midsection. The woman stumbled backward, but quickly regained her footing and launched another attack. Natasha knew something was wrong. That woman did not attack just like anyone. She fought just like a black widow. Her blows were sharp, accurate, and deadly, meant to hurt and kill quickly. How was that possible? She looked like she was in her early twenties and the Red room was long gone.
The two women continued to exchange blows, each one trying to gain the upper hand. “Who are you?” Natasha screamed at her just for her to laugh back.
Steve shot an Icer at the man's head, and the widow looked away just an instant. Natasha saw an opening. She feinted to the left, then struck with a lightning-fast jab to her chin. She followed up with a roundhouse kick that sent her crashing to the ground. She was good but Natasha was better and more experienced. Oddly enough she didn't resist or even try to regain control. She had her, her arms locked behind her back and then she noticed it, the hourglass symbol engraved on her shoulder. Saliva rides up in Natasha’s throat. No. No, it wasn't possible. The Red Room was gone.
Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest, her ears whistling. Not now. She needed to keep it together. Just breathe. It’s not the red room. It’s not. It’s impossible. Steve talked to her, but she couldn’t understand half of what he just said. God, she looked so weak just not in front of her partner but also in front of the fucking target. Pathetic. Useless. Madame B wouldn't have liked that.
When she regained herself, she noticed Steve had already taken care to call reinforcement and now both of the suspects weren't in the room anymore. It was odd. Everything about this mission was odd. The drug dealing, the children, the perfect house, and now a trained black widow?
“Nat, are you alright?” She nodded. “You’re sure?”
She got up “Yes don't worry about it, it’s fine,” she spat out with venom. She didn't need any help nor did she want it. “I'm going to check the house for any of the children, please go outside and make sure the other agents don't do anything stupid.” Steve left the house, not wanting any confrontation right now.
Natasha searched the house, everything was clear, not any trace of any children. Thank god. She just needed to check the seller and she'll be good to go. It was locked, but anyone with half a brain could open it without much of a struggle.
The room was dark and smelled like mold and bodily fluid, a night light shedding the room. A crib and a small bed against the wall. No No No, not that, please not that. She knew. The red room was never gone. She failed at the one thing she was proud to state was her work. She failed. Again, like she always does.
A toddler was sleeping in the crib, not older than two, and curled up against him was a young girl maybe 5 or 6 years old. She was hugging the toddler while holding a small bunny-shaped stuffed animal. Shielding her would be more appropriate in the defensive position she was in. Desperately trying to protect her sibling.
The girl was awake eyeing Natasha in anticipation of what she would do. Natasha took a step forward. “Hey, my name is Nat. You’re safe now, can I come near?”
The little girl furrowed her eyebrows. “No! I want Mommy!” Natasha took a step back surprised. Who did she consider mommy? The black widow that she just arrested? It didn't make sense. From what Natasha could see both of the children were showing signs of neglect. The toddler's diaper was obviously soiled for a long time, considering his clothes were also dirty. The girl had her hair all matted and was definitely underweight.
She froze, she didn't know what to do. What should she tell her? She had no idea and could already sense her anxiety skyrocketing as some of her own memories came into her mind. She panicked. It’s too much. She was so weak. She called Steve with the coms before shutting down curling up into a corner of the room.