Work Text:
And I was catching my breath
Staring out an open window
Catching my death
And I couldn't be sure
I had a feeling so peculiar
That this pain would be for
Evermore
At just eight years old, pain and suffering are all Natasha Romanoff has ever known. She was told that her mother threw her away like trash, and that the Red Room saved her from freezing to death on the cold snow dusted Moscow alley way where her helpless body was left. Sometimes, when she can’t sleep at night and she feels her wrist bruising from the tight handcuff cemented her to the metal bed frame, she wishes that her mother smothered her infant-self with a pillow or drowned her in the tub, or left somewhere secluded where her cries would go unheard – she has learned the importance of making sure your target is dead before completing the mission, something her mother failed to ensure, which is how Natasha ended up in this mess.
While thoughts of death fill her with a strange sort of comfort at night, during the day, Natasha can only worry about surviving. Guns and knives take the place of dolls and teddy bears. Instead of tea parties, she does target practice. Natasha knows it is only a matter of time before the paper targets transform into people, just another test she must pass.
Although she is small for her age, Natasha is faster and stronger than most, excelling at both dancing and sparring. Who knew such small fists could do so much damage? Natasha is not just physically gifted, she can also outsmart those in the older age groups, and she has already mastered English and French on top of her native tongue. It came as no surprise when she was excused from ballet practice early and told that she was selected for a top-secret mission in the states. Dreykov made sure to remind her what an honor it was to serve her country. Madame B is standing behind him, shooting daggers at her with her eyes, hinting at her to show gratitude. Dreykov gets up to leave and it takes every fiber in her being not to flinch when he kisses her on the forehead before exiting the room. The darkness in his eyes shows that his actions are motivated by more than just some twisted paternal love.
The last thing Natasha hears before Dreykov exits the room is, “zastav' menya gordit'sya moim malen'kim pauchkom” make me proud my little spider.
***
Everything moves quickly after that. Natasha is briefed quickly and then ushered onto a plane. Inside the plane, there is a man and woman. She knows from the file that she was told to skim that the man’s name is Alexei and the woman’s name is Melina. He is strong and loud, chatting and cracking jokes as if they are going on a simple trip. Melina is harder to read. She is sitting with her legs crossed, and her face hard. Her body language signals her attempts to keep some distance, but there is something else, something warm and soft that Natasha can’t quite pinpoint.
There is a little blonde girl who can’t be older than two or three on the plane. Natasha doesn’t recognize her from the Red Room, so she must be new. Her name is Yelena, and when the plane takes off, she begins to cry. Natasha wants to hush her, afraid that the noise will irate Melina or Alexei, but instead, Natasha takes the smaller girl’s hand into her own and squeezes it gently. Yelena’s cries turn into sniffles, and it is not long before she falls asleep, her head slowly sliding down to lean against Natasha’s shoulder. The contact makes Natasha tense up, but she doesn’t move an inch, even when the flight attendant comes by with a bag of peanuts. She doesn’t think she could eat if she tried anyways.
Natasha is stiff on the drive from the airport. The agents Her parents in the front seat tell her that they are going home, but Natasha has no concept of the word.
The little blonde girl in the car seat beside her could be none the wiser, babbling nonsense to herself as the radio softly plays an unfamiliar song. Natasha is painfully jealous of her ignorance, but she makes sure not to show it. She knows that she should be grateful she was chosen from this mission. She doesn’t know how long they will be stationed in America playing house, but at least she is not in the Red Room, not near Dreykov and the guards wandering eyes and calloused hands.
Still, Natasha knows in the back of her mind that this is not permanent. Eventually, in five months or five years, the mission will come to an end, and Natasha will be sent back, with the brief taste of freedom making it all the more difficult to return to her cage. She tells herself not to get used to anything, not to let her guard down. These people pretending to be her parents are agents of the Red Room and cannot be trusted. For all she knows, this is just some elaborate test to test her loyalty. Natasha will not be fooled.
***
The first night in the new house in some suburban neighborhood in Ohio, Natasha listens to the sound of the crickets outside. It is a stark difference from the muffled cries of the girls she bunked with back in the Red Room. Even a whole ocean away, she still feels the a phantom ache on her wrist from the handcuffs that she had grown accustomed to sleeping with. She tries to focus on her stomach which is full of something called hamburger helper that Melina made for dinner. Black Widow training does not include any culinary classes, so it was the best that Melina could offer. Alexei attacked the plate, and said “Thank you honey,” between large spoonful’s, already comfortable in his new role as husband and father.
Laying in bed, Natasha tries to get used to her new roles as a sister and daughter. The words feel wrong in her mouth. She is used to being a weapon, but this is all foreign to her. Although she was constantly surrounded by other girls, mentors, and guards in the Red Room, Natasha has always felt alone. She preferred not to get close to anyone, never knowing when they would leave her, or when she would have to kill them.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of little footsteps shuffling toward her room. Natasha freezes, pretending to sleep, not wanting to get punished for being up past curfew. In the Red Room they would make you mop the floors until your body collapsed with exhaustion.
This time however, it is Yelena who is at her door.
“Tasha, I’m scared,” the little girl says in a wobbly voice, with tears balanced on her eyelashes.
“Just got back to sleep, it’s late,” Natasha whispers, not wanting to wake Melina or Alexei.
“But there’s a monster in my room.”
Natasha sighs. “If make the monster go away, will you go back to sleep?”
“Yes!” Yelena states, and Natasha follows her into her room next door.
Natasha mimics what she has seen parents do in the America propaganda movies that she watched as part of her training. She looks under the bed, in the closet, and behind the curtains, waving her hands around in a weird pattern, as if she is willing the invisible monsters away. Natasha wishes she could banish her own monsters this easily, but they are much too real and sinister.
This was not a part of the mission brief, Natasha thinks to herself, as she conducts one last look under the bed.
“Okay Yelena, it is safe now,” Natasha says, and the little girl climbs back into her bed.
Natasha tucks her back in, Yelena’s eyes blinking slower and slower with fatigue as she grasps the stuffed pony that was waiting for them in the house, along with some other child-friendly toys to help them fit in.
Just as Natasha’s hand grasps the doorknob to leave, she hears the faintest sound that makes her pause in her tracks.
“G’night sissy,” Yelena mutters, half asleep.
Something tingles inside Natasha’s chest. Part of her wants to scream and tell Yelena that they are not really sisters, that this is all an act, but instead she chooses to keep her mouth shut, to let the girl live in this fantasy. One of them might as well be able to enjoy it.
That is what a good big sister would do.
Yelena is so young and innocent, Natasha can’t help but feel this urge to protect her. One day this mission will end, and the monsters will be more than just a figment of her imagination. Natasha won’t be able to keep her safe in the overwhelming darkness of the Red Room, but here, in their little midwestern home, Natasha does have some power.
Natasha goes back to bed and wakes up to the smell of pancakes and the sound of Yelena’s laughter. Maybe, just maybe, she could get used to this too.