Chapter Text
Natasha was in her bedroom, absent-mindfully scrolling through messages exchanged with her and Laura Barton about their lunch meeting today when her computer beeped.
Natasha dropped her phone and her hands went shakily to her mouth.
It never beeped.
Had been programmed not to.
Unless...unless...oh God.
She sprang off her bed and ran to her computer, typing in a few codes to get a closer look.
It showed her heat signatures.
From Russia.
From Moscow.
Where she’d been trained.
And there were heat signatures.
In a building near the collapsed remains of the Red Room where she’d spent most of her time.
There were survivors of the Red Room.
There were survivors of the Red Room.
Yelena.
She could be alive.
She could be out there.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
She was alive.
Two hours later, her phone buzzed from its place on the floor when Natasha had dropped it.
Natasha ignored it and remained focused on the red and orange shapes on the screen.
Her phone buzzed more persistently and FRIDAY said politely. “Ms Romanoff, your phone is going off. Shall I answer it for you?”
Natasha didn’t answer; she was so fixated on the screen.
“Ms Romanoff?” FRIDAY repeated. “Your phone is ringing. It’s Laura Barton, shall I put her through?”
“Laura?” Natasha tore her gaze away from her screen. “Uhh, yeah, I’m getting my phone.” Natasha ungracefully slid herself off the chair, trying to watch the screen for as long as possible, before sliding out a leg and pulling the still-ringing phone towards her with her foot.
“Laura, what’s up?” She answered, pulling herself back up on the table to watch the computer screen once more.
“Nat, are you on your way?” Laura asked, the smile evident in her voice.
Uh oh
“On my way…?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, am I -”
“Nat, we’re having lunch remember? That’s today. Are you still coming?” Laura reminded her, exasperated.
“Oh, I…” Natasha’s gaze went to the flickering computer screen. “I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“Yes.”
“Why not?” Laura definitely had her ‘disapproving face’ on.
“She’s…” Natasha swallowed, took a deep breath and when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “She’s alive, Laura.”
Silence. Then, “Oh my God. You’re sure?” Laura’s voice was barely a whisper, matching Natasha’s.
“My computer alerted me of movement in Moscow. I think it’s her.” Natasha didn’t make an effort to stop her tears falling.
“And your parents?” Laura’s voice was soft.
“I-” Natasha hadn’t thought that far - her parents hadn’t been with her like Yelena had when the building had collapsed, but, if they had been in the building and they had managed to escape or manage to get to the bomb shelter in time… “Do you think they’re still out there?” She asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Laura answered instantly, “Yeah. Oh,
Nat.
Don’t worry about lunch, we’ll find another time. Find them, Tash.”
Natasha was shaking all over, but determination spurned through her. They were out there. Her parents, her little sister. They were out there.
She was going to find them.
Because she’d be damned if she let them go again.
Natasha’s fingers skimmed over her contacts on her phone until it rested on Maria Hill’s.
If she was to find her sister, then she had to think rationally. She needed a team to help. If Yelena was alive, it was very likely that she wasn’t the only member from the Red Room still alive and Natasha would need help - especially if leaders of the Red Room had survived.
And she was betting that Maria knew just the right people.
“Maria? Hi.” Natasha said, once her friend had answered the phone. “I need your help.”
“Oh yeah?” Came her friend’s reply. “What with?”
“She’s out there. Maria, she’s alive.” Natasha’s hands found the arrow necklace Clint had given her and tightened her grip on it.
“She’s - Yelena?” Maria sounded shocked.
Natasha nodded, “And possibly my parents. Maria, I was wondering if you knew a team that could help me? Maybe some former SHIELD members? Please.”
“Four hours, then meet me in the common room.” Maria ordered, then hung up.
Natasha put her phone down on the floor, then clicked a few more buttons on her computer, revealing the image of a young girl - aged sixteen or so - with dirty blonde hair and blue-grey eyes and a wicked grin with a touch of mischief.
Natasha pressed her forehead against the image. “I’m coming for you, Yelena. I never forgot about you. I’m coming for you. Hold on, маленькая звезда. Hold on.” (Little star).