Not The First Time, 1/5.
Sorry I'm late about posting. The holidays upset the usual routines. ^^; Happy New Year!
Title: Not The First Time
Series: #15 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Yelena, Natasha/Winter Soldier
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Additional warning for underage sexual situations, drug use (with and without consent), dubcon, noncom, mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Special thanks to phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger for plotting and characterization discussion. :)
Summary: The Red Room has to be the best. That means continuing to destroy potential rivals and enemies across the globe. That means evading SHIELD's efforts to rein them in. That means avoiding the Avengers.
No matter the cost.
One - Light In Darkness
The news reports didn't know what to make of the grisly murder of Dr. Lansing in his home, even though by all accounts it was being called a home invasion gone wrong. The police were assuming that someone high on PCP or crystal meth had done it, though very few valuables had actually been taken. No one heard a thing, and with the damage done, even the gag placed in the doctor's mouth wouldn't have prevented others from hearing the screams. There had been an awful amount of blood, enough to make the detectives on the scene sick, enough to leave tracks around the house.
Tracks that corresponded to boots in Natasha's shoe size, which was just a half size larger than Yelena's. No other tracks were there.
Clint hadn't wanted to agree with Loki that Natasha was doing this on her own, that she wasn't willing to return to SHIELD and the rest of them. "Something is happening there, something big," he said, looking at the others. Tony looked away, his faith in Natasha shaken even without seeing the remains of Dr. Lansing. "There has to be a tie between them, a reason why she went there. Surveillance at the hospital showed Yelena and the Winter Soldier, not Natasha, but they tossed Lansing's office and killed whoever got in their way. There's a reason why they went after Lansing, just like there was a reason why they went after Sarkissian."
"You're saying Lansing is Hydra or AIM?" Steve said. It might be that he was willing to play along, or that he understood how Natasha operated. He was far more idealistic than she was, sure, but he wasn't the Boy Scout that the media tried to paint him. She was a spy with ideals, and though her methods didn't sit well with him, Steve knew that Natasha did things for very specific reasons. She had left to save their lives, bartering her own for theirs. What else did Yelena and the Winter Soldier hang over her head?
"It doesn't matter, does it? He's dead," Tony replied. "That wasn't an assassination. I mean, that's what she does, she assassinates people. I can deal with that in a theoretical kind of way, sort of. Like a numbers game. But knowing she cut someone up, slowly and painfully, torturing someone..." Tony pushed back from the table they were all sitting at, looking a little green around the gills. "I can't do that. I can't laugh and pretend it didn't happen. She's scary enough as it is, I can't parse that right now."
Loki had sat at the end of the table, away from the others, gaze turned inward and expression sour. He had nothing to say after explaining how Natasha hadn't been willing to return, that she had been cold and heartless, that she wanted nothing to do with them. The others at first thought that he was merely being melodramatic, falling apart without her again. He certainly seemed to be more withdrawn. Tony had joked about that for all of two seconds before lapsing into silence, which was probably a first.
"Her spá has changed," Loki said abruptly. "Everyone has a lifeline, one the Norns had crafted for them. I knew what hers was like before that bitch blocked me." He didn't look at anyone, didn't uncross his arms, still looked sour and upset. "Natasha appears different now, her lifeline changed. It frayed, it warped, it rewove into different patterns. Several different lifetimes woven into hers all at once."
"That's what the Red Room did to her," Clint said. "They took out her personality, they put others in. The SHIELD shrinks had a field day with her when I brought her in. I think it took a team of five about six months around the clock to work out the triggers and personalities that were in there, and even then she was on probation for almost a year."
"But Fury trusts her," Tony said. "Practically looks like a doting father where she's concerned."
"The Natasha we know never existed before she came in to work for SHIELD," Bruce said, looking at Clint. "That's what you're telling us. She was someone different before. Several someones different." He paused, thinking back. "She told me she started as a child. I thought she was exaggerating at first."
Steve sighed loudly. "Whatever is going on, she's still our friend. She still needs us. It's not too much different from when Loki tried to discredit her," he said, waving in Loki's direction. "We were here for her then, trusted her then. She needs us to do that now."
"She's a killer," Loki snapped. "She left the lot of you, all but said you don't matter."
"You don't get it, do you?" Clint snapped angrily. "She's a fucking spy and even her own mind was suspect for like, 90% of her life. Of course she'll say we don't matter. Because if she says that, we stay alive. If she says that, if she acts like she doesn't care, those two won't slit our throats in our sleep. Emotions are weakness in the Red Room. Love is for children. It's an attachment, it's hope, it's relying on someone else, it's wanting someone else, and the Red Room can't have that. You can't control someone with a personality. So they erased it. So they made her think wanting is a crime. So they punish her for being human."
Clint got to his feet and stared at everyone in turn, jaw set. "I'm never giving up on her. I know she isn't giving up on us. Her mind is fucked up, but on some level, she will always do what needs to be done to keep us safe and help us. Unfortunately, that comes at the cost of her own safety and sanity, and she's only too willing to pay it. She doesn't value her safety the way we do, so it's an acceptable risk."
All eyes swiveled to take in Loki. "What?" he asked defensively.
"Okay, I get your point," Tony said with a sigh. "I'm just... not like that."
"You don't have to be. Nobody's asking you to be," Clint replied with a sigh. "But we can't abandon her, not now. Or she really will have nothing left when they're through with her."
"I'm not sure they'll want to give her up," Steve replied sadly.
"Then we make them," Bruce said suddenly. "I don't know how," he said with a self conscious smile. "But if we can figure that part out, if we make it worth their while to leave her alone, maybe it'll be safe for her to come back." He gave them a wilted smile. "I know what it's like to be out there with no supports. Or no supports I felt safe counting on. So yeah, I know what she's going through right now. She'll need us."
Loki had a blank look on his face, but Clint could see the confusion in his eyes. If he was feeling generous - and frankly, just then he wasn't - then he could allow that Loki had honestly believed Natasha's lies. Natasha was a flawless liar and manipulator, after all. And he had seen exactly what she had wanted him to see. He didn't know her as well as he wanted to, not as Clint did, not as Steve or even Sam did. Her friends saw different facets of her, and Clint probably saw more than most at this point.
Natasha had been afraid before she left, possibly because she had guessed something like this would happen. She would never be afraid for herself, not the way Clint would fear for his own safety. So he owed it to her to move heaven and earth to get her back. And then once she was safe, he could blast her a new one for putting them all in this situation in the first place.
***
Natasha had the horrible feeling of déjà vu come over her as she looked down over the building's edge. Yelena had chosen to eliminate The Hand first, then move on to Black Spectre. Those two organizations were in direct competition for what she wanted their Red Room to be, but much larger in scope. It would take a long time to eliminate them, chipping away at them little by little and trying to stem their recruitment tides. With Black Spectre, it would be easy; eliminate the brainwashing arm of the organization and unleash holy hell on the kidnapping arm, and the women would stop being converted into agents. Recruitment for The Hand, however, was far more widespread than that. They were ninjas, hirelings for anyone that wasn't willing to work with the Yakuza, with differing titles and ranks based on skills. Natasha's skills were on par with their Assassins or Dragons, but that would still leave the Scorpions, Shadows, Shinobis, Soliders, Spies and Warriors.
Still, Yelena wanted this done to move forward. James remained stoic as Yelena outlined her master plan for the three of them. He was used to moving forward on orders, personal survival be damned. She wanted to shake him, tell him that he didn't have to be the Winter Soldier anymore, they could be whoever it was that they wanted to be. But then time slipped sideways for her, and she found herself staring at Yelena and wondering when Natalie Rushman had a sister.
She had gotten more clothing in black, strapped on her weapons and her gauntlets, climbed on top of the building Yelena had insisted was a haven for The Hand. Everything looked familiar here, as if she had been there before. She had done this, had moved through the security measures as if it was merely a training exercise, crouched down on the ledge and looked over into the training courtyard.
Had she been there before? Had she been part of them at one time?
A shiver worked its way down her spine. Yelena had sent her here, was also supposed to be attacking the building, and James would come in once they gave the signal. Were they all doomed to fail?
Wait. There was the flash of Yelena's blonde hair. She was climbing up the side of the courtyard in the shadows, having a little more difficulty than Natasha would have expected. Her scores on field test trials hadn't been that far behind Natasha's, and she had exposed herself to the same chemical cocktails that she had injected Natasha with. But Natasha also had Hel's blessings and Loki's prior spells, which likely made the difference.
For a moment, Natasha almost missed Loki. She missed tying him down and fucking him, being in control, subtly directing him toward keeping his own ledger. She missed his touch, the way the magic augmented what he could do. Not that Yelena and James couldn't satisfy her, but it was different, more of a challenge to stay engaged.
Yelena moved into position over the courtyard. A flash of irritation was clear on her face, perhaps because Natasha had been waiting for her. She nodded down, pulling out her knife; it had seemed silly to Natasha to climb to the roof and work their way down, but James was going to shoot his way in and move up.
If Natasha and Yelena were Dragons, he was most like a Warrior.
Yelena started the count with a flick of her blade. One, two, three.
She fell from the edge of the roof onto a pacing guard, her momentum bringing him to the ground. Before he hit the floor, she pushed off of him, lessening the impact and imparting more force to his crash. It knocked him out immediately, and she took off to the next in line. He didn't know what hit him as he was kicked into the wall, his face colliding with it with a sickening crunch. Around the corner of the balcony was another lounging guard, felled before he could raise the alarm, choking on his crushed larynx. Natasha grasped the railing of the balcony and flipped herself over it as Yelena sped past its entrance inside the building, both knives out and already slicked with blood.
Down a floor, and she repeated the same sorts of attacks. Natasha moved stealthily through the shadows, disabling whoever she saw in Hand uniforms as quickly and quietly as possible. It wasn't always a killing blow, though she knew Yelena would scoff at her tactics. Natasha went for expediency, and sometimes it took more effort to kill someone than to simply knock them unconscious and move on. It wasn't as if her moves were light love taps, either. If these fools actually tried to get up again, there was serious damage and concussions to contend with, so they were still out for the count.
Something about the way that the men moved made Natasha think these were simply trainees, that they had never actually seen combat. Or perhaps she was simply that good, between the spells and chemicals and training, the lifetimes living uncomfortably beneath her skin. It never used to weigh so heavily on her before, but now they simmered, waiting for her to use them, waiting to be heard. They wanted to live, not simply be imagined.
Had she trained here? Had a lifetime been implanted where she worked with The Hand?
She was on this floor ahead of Yelena, and there were no balconies beneath this one. Heading in through the French doors, Natasha had a wide grin on her face when there were trainees inside, four men and one woman standing against the wall trying to appear nonchalant. Oh, Natasha was going to enjoy this. "Hey, fellas," she crooned. "Let's dance."
They didn't believe in chivalry, but charged at once. The woman hung back a moment, eyes cool and assessing. Natasha let that fact settle into the back of her mind, and simply started to move as if it was a choreographed ballet. Jeté, rond de jambe, elevé, Arabesque, soubresaut, sissone ouverte tombé and piqué; moving in perfect four-four time, her arms and legs were weapons faster than theirs, and it almost didn't seem fair to add her knives to the mix. But a simple strike didn't knock them out, and they were on a timetable. So snick-snack-snick, fountaining blood from slit throats, and Natasha was facing the woman left in the room. "Your friends weren't very good at this."
"They weren't my friends." Her voice was lightly accented, and Natasha didn't place it as Japanese at all. A Hand recruit then, not born into the clan. By the looks of it, she wasn't a willing recruit, either. The woman tilted up her chin, her almond eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Natasha and her stance, the wet blood on her knives and the guns she hadn't even touched yet. "You're going to kill them all."
"Part of the plan, yes."
"This is just one training house."
"We'll get them all."
"We?" There was something almost like anticipation in the woman's eyes, as if she wanted to ask to come along with Natasha.
A crash from down the hall, and Natasha cocked her head at the sound. When the sound repeated, her heartbeat slowed back to normal. That would be James entering the building, flashy and drawing attention away from the top floors. He would have his rifles, guns and grenades, flash-bang-boom, a relentless machine, an avatar of Death herself.
Her lips curled a little, a slight smirk. "Yes, we."
"I can tell you where the other training houses are."
"Why should I trust you?" Natasha asked, rather than replying I already know where they are, though suddenly she was certain that she did know where they were.
"They killed my family."
"Why not kill you, too?" she asked.
"They want what I know, access to family accounts..." The woman shrugged. "They didn't like it when I said no."
Something rang untrue in the statements, and Natasha trusted her instinct on that. She kept her smirk of a smile and gestured toward the door. "Well, then. Let's go."
The woman paused before opening the door. "Why do you want to destroy The Hand?"
"You don't need to worry about that."
Halfway down the hall, they ran into Yelena. She hadn't been terribly neat about her kills, apparently, which Starkovsky would have taken her to task for. Perhaps she did it because Starkovsky wasn't around any longer. If there was any justice in the universe, he would be merrily roasting in hell alongside the megalomaniac dictators of the world.
Yelena's eyes narrowed when she saw the woman with Natasha. "Well, now."
Natasha gave Yelena a sweet smile. "Imagine my surprise when I see her, and she says that she can help us find the other training houses."
With a bark of startled laughter, Yelena approached. "Oh, yes, I suppose Myung would know exactly where they are." When the woman tried to side step Yelena, Natasha moved into the space to block her. "I remember you, Myung. And I think you remember me."
"I don't know who you are or what you're talking about..."
"Oh, don't lie," Yelena crooned, continuing her steady advancement. She had her teeth bared and eyes flashing. What did she remember? What happened with this woman?
"I'm not lying," Myung protested.
"You're lying," Yelena insisted. "You remember the chair. The bamboo shoots. Dousing me with rice wine then lighting it, then putting it out with water only to apply electricity." Myung had grown more and more pale as Yelena spoke, and her retreat stopped only at the tip of Natasha's knife. "You remember. You have to remember, because I do."
But memory was faulty, wasn't it? Wasn't it?
Natasha remembered this place, remembered the sequence of the watch, remembered how the trainees moved. She could dance to its predictability. She did dance to its predictability, and this woman's gaze had been assessing, judging her, weighing her movements as carefully as any dancehall judge.
No, this woman wasn't an innocent.
She didn't stop Yelena from sinking her knives into Myung's stomach, driving her into Natasha's outstretched blade. The Korean woman collapsed into Natasha's arms, a betrayed expression on her face, and then her throat was sliced open quickly. Blood poured in a wave down her chest, her breath gurgling.
"Let's go," Yelena said, stepping over Myung as the blood continued to pool around her. "We still have work to do."
Gently, Natasha laid Myung on the floor and continued to move. The bangs and shouts from the floors below were growing louder, and James needed them. They all had to do their part, clockwork machinery to get the job done.
The Lady Hel would be so proud of all of them.
***
"So was it really about ideals, Rooskaya?" Natasha hissed, pushing Yelena into the wall of their hotel room as soon as the door was shut and locked. They were both battered and wounded, blood on their clothes. It hurt to slam Yelena like that, but Natasha was furious.
"What are you talking about?" Yelena asked wearily. The day's events were getting to her; even Hand trainees were formidable.
"You wanted revenge on Myung for what happened to you," Natasha hissed, shaking Yelena. She sensed James still behind her, watching them with the patience of a coiled snake despite his own wounds. He wouldn't interfere, not until he knew what it was about.
"Who?" Yelena asked, grunting when Natasha slammed her into the wall again. "I don't remember what you're talking about. I don't remember most of it. Once we got into the building, it starts to be a blur."
"I found a Korean woman named Myung surrounded by Hand trainees. I thought they were going to do to her what Starkovsky did to us, but her behavior wasn't quite right. Then when you saw her, you said she tortured you. Burned you, electric shocks."
Yelena's eyes grew distant. "I remember. I don't remember. It's all blurry, faded."
"We need to heal," James interrupted, voice even.
Natasha slammed Yelena into the wall one more time and then moved to the bag of medical supplies. They had bought some items from various drugstores as they moved through cities, avoiding SHIELD's facial recognition software. James and Yelena had also stolen quite a quantity of supplies from San Marino when they had raided it. Most of the affected staff and affected patients had been killed, the disruptor destroyed in the scuffle. Yelena had found the data on the computer and pulled it off onto a flash drive, and destroyed Lansing's computer in a fit of rage. Many of his paper files regarding its use were also destroyed, and any notes about the serum he was experimenting on.
They looked after themselves and each other in terse silence, and Natasha had to stitch a few deeper stab wounds on James' body. Yelena shook too much to do it, as if she was going into shock, and Natasha had to wonder how many triggers had activated in that training house. She didn't react when Natasha checked her scalp for head wounds, or when she suggested that Yelena lie down on the bed next to James. Usually she insisted that Natasha had to stay in the middle, but right now Natasha was taking charge. They acted like broken dolls, marionettes with their strings cut or mangled. She remembered that James tended to crash after missions, especially if they were more dangerous than anticipated, and it accelerated his healing. It was hard for him to override the programming left in his mind, especially when it was beneficial.
She crawled into the bed beside Yelena, who stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Natasha didn't like the look of that, and slid her hand along Yelena's stomach. The blonde didn't even flinch. Natasha leaned in to kiss her jaw, a gentle caress of a kiss even though there was still some simmering anger beneath her skin. Yelena still didn't respond to her.
No, that wouldn't do at all. Yelena had to be controlling her own body. Natasha wouldn't accept a marionette pulling on her strings.
She licked Yelena's lips, moving to hover over her body. Her lips parted slightly, but she was still largely unresponsive. "Lena," Natasha murmured against her mouth, stroking a breast over her clothes. "Come out and play."
Still nothing, so Natasha straddled Yelena and started to take off her clothes. Yelena didn't resist, even helped take off her bra and panties, movements wooden and automatic. Was this kind of behavior how she had been with Starkovsky? It was a horrible thought.
"Lena," Natasha murmured, simply caressing her. It was wrong to do more without her full consent, she knew that much. Her Red Room self wouldn't have stopped, would have gotten what she needed as long as there was the opportunity to. "Lena, it's Natalia. It's safe, lovely girl, it's us. No cameras, no sponsors." Yelena shuddered a little, perhaps remembering the last time Natasha had said such things to her. Trailing her fingers along the underside of Yelena's breast, Natasha murmured "Love, wake up. Come back to me."
Her eyes fluttered, and she looked at Natasha in confusion. "No drills today?"
Natasha smiled in relief. "No, Lena. No drills today."
Yelena smiled in return, sweet and relieved. "Oh, good. I don't know the routine well enough yet, I don't want to be whipped."
"No whippings," Natasha promised, her heart breaking a little. Yelena had regressed to age eleven or twelve, then. It was better than finding a different personality lying beneath her, since they wouldn't have recognized her. "Winter's here resting, just to keep us safe."
Her heartbreaking smile was still in place as she reached up to tug at Natasha's shirt. "Okay, then. He won't stop us, will he?" She laughed delightedly when Natasha shook her head, and tugged harder. "Good. Take this off, then. Let me see you, Natasha."
Off came the bloodied and torn clothing, the bra and panties stained with blood. Yelena grinned delightedly at the sight of Natasha kneeling on the bed in front of her, bare and ready for her touch. "Tell me what you want, Lena," Natasha murmured. Oh, she was still angry with Yelena, but perhaps it wasn't entirely her fault everything had gone straight to hell.
"I want your mouth on me," Yelena said, a shy smile on her face despite the bold words. They had been twelve together, experimenting on each others' bodies, figuring out ways to reclaim their identities after their sponsors ripped them to shreds. She ran a hand over the rise of Natasha's breast, then rubbed the nipple with her thumb. "Let's forget about the whips and bruises, the blood on the floor. Help me forget..."
Twelve year old girls, fighting each other, maiming each other, practically killing each other as old men watched in silent speculation. Twenty-eight girls slowly whittling themselves down, one by one by one, and now only two were left. Natasha definitely wanted to forget it all, wanted to bury herself in sensation and let go of everything.
Yelena first. James could take care of her once he woke.
Comfortably lying on her stomach, Natasha spread Yelena's legs and set to work licking and nuzzling the folds there. Yelena's breath quickened when Natasha swirled the tip of her tongue over her clit, soft at first, then gradually more and more pressure. The moans increased in volume, her thighs quivering on either side of Natasha's head. Yelena reached down to touch Natasha's crown, but she didn't pull on her hair or push at her. "Please, please," Yelena panted, her voice a high pitched whine. "Tasha, Natasha, please..."
Natasha continued until Yelena jerked beneath her lips and came. Her cries woke James, but he stayed where he was and merely observed the two of them in action. Natasha could see the rise of his cock, the desire building. He wouldn't touch Yelena, knowing she didn't like men, but he would fondle Natasha, kiss her, fuck her senseless. They loved each other, and it was a testament to how fucked up the Red Room was that this was the only way any of them could ever demonstrate how much they cared for one another.
Sitting on her haunches, Natasha looked at the two of them, her broken loves, her heart aching in her chest. Love wasn't enough, she knew that, but sometimes she wished it was. If she could fix them somehow, take the triggers out of their minds, leave them something other than the Red Room's shattered marionettes...
"Don't look so sad," Yelena murmured, sliding a hand along her thigh. "We still have each other, Natalia. They can't take that away from us."
But they did. They had destroyed what they had, and for a long time, Natasha had even forgotten what Yelena had meant to her, what James had been for her.
"Come," Yelena urged, pulling on her leg. "Come here, we'll take the sad away." She turned to James with an entreating expression. "Won't you, Winter? Because she loves you, even if she's not supposed to. She loves you like I love her, and she loves us both."
Oh god, Natasha's chest burned now, and she wanted to cry. This was what she had wanted when she burned down the Red Room. This was what she wanted to save. How could she be angry with Yelena now?
Carefully, they rearranged themselves on the bed, too narrow for all three of them at once. But Natasha straddled Yelena's face and bent her head over the juncture of her thighs. James knelt behind them both, lining up his cock to slide into Natasha as Yelena licked at her clit. Slowly at first, teasing, then faster and harder as if they had done this all the time while the Red Room was in operation. The three of them worked in unison, a seamless entity, as if they could slide inside of each other. This was what it meant to feel whole. The three of them together, and Natasha didn't feel empty, didn't feel the aching pressure of her ledger weighing down on her. It would be balanced, she wasn't awful, it would get done. Everything would be all right. She could do this, she could do anything.
Even crashing down from the high didn't take that feeling away. They were tangled up in each others' arms on the bed, hearts beating erratically, triggers and personality overlays silent. It could work. She would make it work.
They would take out the competition and Natasha would bring them home to SHIELD. She could save them, she could keep them.
She could make it work. She had to; she couldn't bear to lose them again.
***
There was no obvious sign of Natasha or the others. Clint didn't think there would be, but that kept a few junior agents busy. She had few friends within SHIELD that Clint knew of; Fury was definitely someone she trusted and respected, Maria Hill was tolerated and may have been liked if they spent more time together, and she liked Melinda May. Most agents weren't worth her time, because they couldn't see past her reputation or origins. Oh, she was pleasant enough to a number of people, but that didn't mean they were friends.
So he barged into Fury's office when Sitwell and Hill weren't around. Natasha definitely was irritated often with Sitwell's bland expressions and Clint knew Hill got irritated with him. Not that Fury wouldn't be, especially with barging in and likely creating more paperwork, but this was about what was best for Natasha.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get your ass hauled out of here," Fury snapped without looking up from his computer screen.
Clint didn't think that meant Fury was unaware of him. "Natasha."
That got him to look up. "What about her? There had been radio silence."
"Contact was made. Sort of."
"Explain."
Fury was silent as Clint related Loki's visit, Natasha's statements and his own theories as to her behavior. "You think she's going to bring them in," he said after a long period of silence.
"I think it's a distinct possibility." Clint paused. "I've thought about what they could have hanging over her head other than our lives, and I don't think it fits. They're taking out Hydra and AIM personnel or collaborators. Messy and not at all how SHIELD regs would want it, but they're being taken out. I'm thinking she's pushing the targets."
"Word out in terrorist cells is that the Red Room plans on making a comeback."
"Sir, those three are the Red Room."
Fury steepled his fingers in front of his face and steadily stared at Clint. "So how am I to know for certain she hasn't reverted?"
Clint wanted to sigh and roll his eyes. "She makes the sacrifice play. She puts herself into impossible situations because her safety isn't as important to her as the mission. Yelena mattered to her when they were in the Red Room, before their heads got fucked with. Before she disappeared, she wanted our help with Yelena so it wouldn't get out of hand. We've seen what she's capable of with the Sarkissians."
"It could be triggers we missed."
"No, those are gone."
"Are you that confident we got them out?"
"Yes. And I think you are, too. You wouldn't send her on so many sensitive missions if you didn't. And she wouldn't trust you if any were left."
Fury leaned back in his seat and stared at Clint, but the archer refused to squirm. "You believe what you're saying."
"Absolutely."
"Or she could be fooling us all, playing a long game."
"Well, sir, that's crap," Clint replied flatly. "She was scared before heading out to stop Yelena, and requested that we help her take her down. That way, we could ensure she wasn't compromised and the job got done."
"The World Council-"
"Quite frankly, sir, I don't give a shit what they think. They've never been in the field, and they don't know what it can take to get the job done. They've never had to make the sacrifice play to get others out. They can't make that kind of hard call. They can push people around the world like chess pieces, they can sacrifice numbers and assets, but not because they've ever been on the ground in the middle of the action. They're paper pushers."
"You think just because you brought her in-"
"I think she's trying to do the same."
"Stop interrupting me, Agent Barton," Fury snarled. "Last I checked, I was still your superior officer around here."
Clint snapped his mouth shut.
"That's the first smart thing you've done since stepping into my office," Fury barked. "You cannot disrespect the World Council and expect to get away with it. You are considered expendable. Even I don't get away with that shit too often." He leveled Clint with a pointed stare and let that sink in for a moment.
"Natasha trusts me, and I have earned that trust," Fury continued, still staring at Clint. "I trust her in return with certain things."
"We've become her family," Clint insisted. "She would never betray us."
"Who do you think those two were to her before?" Fury pointed out. Clint's mouth snapped shut again. "If it comes down to us or them, who do you think would win out?"
"I think she'll try to save us all."
"But if she can't?"
Clint remained silent; he knew Natasha would try. Isn't that what mattered?
"It was not easy to get her head rearranged when you brought her in," Fury said evenly. "I understand the impulse to turn her, why you felt it was important. But that was work, even though she wanted to cooperate. By all reports, Belova and the Winter Soldier will not cooperate with the same procedures."
Silence. Clint knew of those reports; hell, he had written some of them himself.
"I understand you want to save them, that she would want to save them. I understand you want them to make a home here, to consider us family."
"Sir..."
"But we're not a family, Agent Barton," Fury continued. Clint flinched but remained silent. "I understand a fair number of our agents take on this organization as if it was, but we are not a family. We don't prioritize our missions to save one over hundreds, we do it for the greater good, to limit the chaos that this world can devolve into. It's gotten even more difficult, what with aliens and their issues thrown into the mix. Magic," he said in disgust, lips twisting around the word.
"If we can't save them, we have to cut them loose."
Clint looked at Fury, jaw tight. "I can't do that, sir. I can't abandon her, and if Belova and the Winter Soldier can be brought in, I will help do it. I know what it's like out there, Natasha knows what it's like out there. If anyone can do it, we can."
"But if we can't, we cut our losses."
Clint didn't reply, simply stared stubbornly back at Fury.
"Do you understand, Agent Barton? This is a job that demands sacrifices."
"I know. But there are limits to what we should be asked to sacrifice."
Fury leaned back in his chair. "I don't disagree with you."
"I'm on the ground, sir. I'm in the field. I haven't forgotten why I do this."
As Fury bristled with the implication, Clint stood up and headed for the door. "I didn't dismiss you, Agent."
"I don't think we have anything else left to say, do we?" Clint asked, not turning around.
There was a long pause before Fury finally said "No, I don't think there is."
Clint left without waiting for the "Dismissed."
***
***
To Chapter Two - Hiding In Plain Sight
Title: Not The First Time
Series: #15 in Ready For The Siege
(#1 - Look Over Your Shoulder, #2 - Armed Up To The Teeth, #3 - Misery Inspires, #4 - Broken Underneath, #5 - Change Is Coming Soon, #6 - Lick Your Wounds, #7 - Bitter Sparks, #8 - Father's Will, #9 - To Feel Safe Again, #10 - Hit Your Prime, #11 - Open Your Eyes, #12 - Can't Be Ignored, #13 - Make You Ill, #14 - Aim Straight)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Yelena, Natasha/Winter Soldier
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to the rest of MCU. Read the other stories before this one, because it does refer back to events in them. Additional warning for underage sexual situations, drug use (with and without consent), dubcon, noncom, mindfuckery of various flavors (hello, Red Room!) and detailed descriptions of violence.
Title and series title from "The Royal We" by Silversun Pickups
Special thanks to phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger for plotting and characterization discussion. :)
Summary: The Red Room has to be the best. That means continuing to destroy potential rivals and enemies across the globe. That means evading SHIELD's efforts to rein them in. That means avoiding the Avengers.
No matter the cost.
One - Light In Darkness
The news reports didn't know what to make of the grisly murder of Dr. Lansing in his home, even though by all accounts it was being called a home invasion gone wrong. The police were assuming that someone high on PCP or crystal meth had done it, though very few valuables had actually been taken. No one heard a thing, and with the damage done, even the gag placed in the doctor's mouth wouldn't have prevented others from hearing the screams. There had been an awful amount of blood, enough to make the detectives on the scene sick, enough to leave tracks around the house.
Tracks that corresponded to boots in Natasha's shoe size, which was just a half size larger than Yelena's. No other tracks were there.
Clint hadn't wanted to agree with Loki that Natasha was doing this on her own, that she wasn't willing to return to SHIELD and the rest of them. "Something is happening there, something big," he said, looking at the others. Tony looked away, his faith in Natasha shaken even without seeing the remains of Dr. Lansing. "There has to be a tie between them, a reason why she went there. Surveillance at the hospital showed Yelena and the Winter Soldier, not Natasha, but they tossed Lansing's office and killed whoever got in their way. There's a reason why they went after Lansing, just like there was a reason why they went after Sarkissian."
"You're saying Lansing is Hydra or AIM?" Steve said. It might be that he was willing to play along, or that he understood how Natasha operated. He was far more idealistic than she was, sure, but he wasn't the Boy Scout that the media tried to paint him. She was a spy with ideals, and though her methods didn't sit well with him, Steve knew that Natasha did things for very specific reasons. She had left to save their lives, bartering her own for theirs. What else did Yelena and the Winter Soldier hang over her head?
"It doesn't matter, does it? He's dead," Tony replied. "That wasn't an assassination. I mean, that's what she does, she assassinates people. I can deal with that in a theoretical kind of way, sort of. Like a numbers game. But knowing she cut someone up, slowly and painfully, torturing someone..." Tony pushed back from the table they were all sitting at, looking a little green around the gills. "I can't do that. I can't laugh and pretend it didn't happen. She's scary enough as it is, I can't parse that right now."
Loki had sat at the end of the table, away from the others, gaze turned inward and expression sour. He had nothing to say after explaining how Natasha hadn't been willing to return, that she had been cold and heartless, that she wanted nothing to do with them. The others at first thought that he was merely being melodramatic, falling apart without her again. He certainly seemed to be more withdrawn. Tony had joked about that for all of two seconds before lapsing into silence, which was probably a first.
"Her spá has changed," Loki said abruptly. "Everyone has a lifeline, one the Norns had crafted for them. I knew what hers was like before that bitch blocked me." He didn't look at anyone, didn't uncross his arms, still looked sour and upset. "Natasha appears different now, her lifeline changed. It frayed, it warped, it rewove into different patterns. Several different lifetimes woven into hers all at once."
"That's what the Red Room did to her," Clint said. "They took out her personality, they put others in. The SHIELD shrinks had a field day with her when I brought her in. I think it took a team of five about six months around the clock to work out the triggers and personalities that were in there, and even then she was on probation for almost a year."
"But Fury trusts her," Tony said. "Practically looks like a doting father where she's concerned."
"The Natasha we know never existed before she came in to work for SHIELD," Bruce said, looking at Clint. "That's what you're telling us. She was someone different before. Several someones different." He paused, thinking back. "She told me she started as a child. I thought she was exaggerating at first."
Steve sighed loudly. "Whatever is going on, she's still our friend. She still needs us. It's not too much different from when Loki tried to discredit her," he said, waving in Loki's direction. "We were here for her then, trusted her then. She needs us to do that now."
"She's a killer," Loki snapped. "She left the lot of you, all but said you don't matter."
"You don't get it, do you?" Clint snapped angrily. "She's a fucking spy and even her own mind was suspect for like, 90% of her life. Of course she'll say we don't matter. Because if she says that, we stay alive. If she says that, if she acts like she doesn't care, those two won't slit our throats in our sleep. Emotions are weakness in the Red Room. Love is for children. It's an attachment, it's hope, it's relying on someone else, it's wanting someone else, and the Red Room can't have that. You can't control someone with a personality. So they erased it. So they made her think wanting is a crime. So they punish her for being human."
Clint got to his feet and stared at everyone in turn, jaw set. "I'm never giving up on her. I know she isn't giving up on us. Her mind is fucked up, but on some level, she will always do what needs to be done to keep us safe and help us. Unfortunately, that comes at the cost of her own safety and sanity, and she's only too willing to pay it. She doesn't value her safety the way we do, so it's an acceptable risk."
All eyes swiveled to take in Loki. "What?" he asked defensively.
"Okay, I get your point," Tony said with a sigh. "I'm just... not like that."
"You don't have to be. Nobody's asking you to be," Clint replied with a sigh. "But we can't abandon her, not now. Or she really will have nothing left when they're through with her."
"I'm not sure they'll want to give her up," Steve replied sadly.
"Then we make them," Bruce said suddenly. "I don't know how," he said with a self conscious smile. "But if we can figure that part out, if we make it worth their while to leave her alone, maybe it'll be safe for her to come back." He gave them a wilted smile. "I know what it's like to be out there with no supports. Or no supports I felt safe counting on. So yeah, I know what she's going through right now. She'll need us."
Loki had a blank look on his face, but Clint could see the confusion in his eyes. If he was feeling generous - and frankly, just then he wasn't - then he could allow that Loki had honestly believed Natasha's lies. Natasha was a flawless liar and manipulator, after all. And he had seen exactly what she had wanted him to see. He didn't know her as well as he wanted to, not as Clint did, not as Steve or even Sam did. Her friends saw different facets of her, and Clint probably saw more than most at this point.
Natasha had been afraid before she left, possibly because she had guessed something like this would happen. She would never be afraid for herself, not the way Clint would fear for his own safety. So he owed it to her to move heaven and earth to get her back. And then once she was safe, he could blast her a new one for putting them all in this situation in the first place.
***
Natasha had the horrible feeling of déjà vu come over her as she looked down over the building's edge. Yelena had chosen to eliminate The Hand first, then move on to Black Spectre. Those two organizations were in direct competition for what she wanted their Red Room to be, but much larger in scope. It would take a long time to eliminate them, chipping away at them little by little and trying to stem their recruitment tides. With Black Spectre, it would be easy; eliminate the brainwashing arm of the organization and unleash holy hell on the kidnapping arm, and the women would stop being converted into agents. Recruitment for The Hand, however, was far more widespread than that. They were ninjas, hirelings for anyone that wasn't willing to work with the Yakuza, with differing titles and ranks based on skills. Natasha's skills were on par with their Assassins or Dragons, but that would still leave the Scorpions, Shadows, Shinobis, Soliders, Spies and Warriors.
Still, Yelena wanted this done to move forward. James remained stoic as Yelena outlined her master plan for the three of them. He was used to moving forward on orders, personal survival be damned. She wanted to shake him, tell him that he didn't have to be the Winter Soldier anymore, they could be whoever it was that they wanted to be. But then time slipped sideways for her, and she found herself staring at Yelena and wondering when Natalie Rushman had a sister.
She had gotten more clothing in black, strapped on her weapons and her gauntlets, climbed on top of the building Yelena had insisted was a haven for The Hand. Everything looked familiar here, as if she had been there before. She had done this, had moved through the security measures as if it was merely a training exercise, crouched down on the ledge and looked over into the training courtyard.
Had she been there before? Had she been part of them at one time?
A shiver worked its way down her spine. Yelena had sent her here, was also supposed to be attacking the building, and James would come in once they gave the signal. Were they all doomed to fail?
Wait. There was the flash of Yelena's blonde hair. She was climbing up the side of the courtyard in the shadows, having a little more difficulty than Natasha would have expected. Her scores on field test trials hadn't been that far behind Natasha's, and she had exposed herself to the same chemical cocktails that she had injected Natasha with. But Natasha also had Hel's blessings and Loki's prior spells, which likely made the difference.
For a moment, Natasha almost missed Loki. She missed tying him down and fucking him, being in control, subtly directing him toward keeping his own ledger. She missed his touch, the way the magic augmented what he could do. Not that Yelena and James couldn't satisfy her, but it was different, more of a challenge to stay engaged.
Yelena moved into position over the courtyard. A flash of irritation was clear on her face, perhaps because Natasha had been waiting for her. She nodded down, pulling out her knife; it had seemed silly to Natasha to climb to the roof and work their way down, but James was going to shoot his way in and move up.
If Natasha and Yelena were Dragons, he was most like a Warrior.
Yelena started the count with a flick of her blade. One, two, three.
She fell from the edge of the roof onto a pacing guard, her momentum bringing him to the ground. Before he hit the floor, she pushed off of him, lessening the impact and imparting more force to his crash. It knocked him out immediately, and she took off to the next in line. He didn't know what hit him as he was kicked into the wall, his face colliding with it with a sickening crunch. Around the corner of the balcony was another lounging guard, felled before he could raise the alarm, choking on his crushed larynx. Natasha grasped the railing of the balcony and flipped herself over it as Yelena sped past its entrance inside the building, both knives out and already slicked with blood.
Down a floor, and she repeated the same sorts of attacks. Natasha moved stealthily through the shadows, disabling whoever she saw in Hand uniforms as quickly and quietly as possible. It wasn't always a killing blow, though she knew Yelena would scoff at her tactics. Natasha went for expediency, and sometimes it took more effort to kill someone than to simply knock them unconscious and move on. It wasn't as if her moves were light love taps, either. If these fools actually tried to get up again, there was serious damage and concussions to contend with, so they were still out for the count.
Something about the way that the men moved made Natasha think these were simply trainees, that they had never actually seen combat. Or perhaps she was simply that good, between the spells and chemicals and training, the lifetimes living uncomfortably beneath her skin. It never used to weigh so heavily on her before, but now they simmered, waiting for her to use them, waiting to be heard. They wanted to live, not simply be imagined.
Had she trained here? Had a lifetime been implanted where she worked with The Hand?
She was on this floor ahead of Yelena, and there were no balconies beneath this one. Heading in through the French doors, Natasha had a wide grin on her face when there were trainees inside, four men and one woman standing against the wall trying to appear nonchalant. Oh, Natasha was going to enjoy this. "Hey, fellas," she crooned. "Let's dance."
They didn't believe in chivalry, but charged at once. The woman hung back a moment, eyes cool and assessing. Natasha let that fact settle into the back of her mind, and simply started to move as if it was a choreographed ballet. Jeté, rond de jambe, elevé, Arabesque, soubresaut, sissone ouverte tombé and piqué; moving in perfect four-four time, her arms and legs were weapons faster than theirs, and it almost didn't seem fair to add her knives to the mix. But a simple strike didn't knock them out, and they were on a timetable. So snick-snack-snick, fountaining blood from slit throats, and Natasha was facing the woman left in the room. "Your friends weren't very good at this."
"They weren't my friends." Her voice was lightly accented, and Natasha didn't place it as Japanese at all. A Hand recruit then, not born into the clan. By the looks of it, she wasn't a willing recruit, either. The woman tilted up her chin, her almond eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Natasha and her stance, the wet blood on her knives and the guns she hadn't even touched yet. "You're going to kill them all."
"Part of the plan, yes."
"This is just one training house."
"We'll get them all."
"We?" There was something almost like anticipation in the woman's eyes, as if she wanted to ask to come along with Natasha.
A crash from down the hall, and Natasha cocked her head at the sound. When the sound repeated, her heartbeat slowed back to normal. That would be James entering the building, flashy and drawing attention away from the top floors. He would have his rifles, guns and grenades, flash-bang-boom, a relentless machine, an avatar of Death herself.
Her lips curled a little, a slight smirk. "Yes, we."
"I can tell you where the other training houses are."
"Why should I trust you?" Natasha asked, rather than replying I already know where they are, though suddenly she was certain that she did know where they were.
"They killed my family."
"Why not kill you, too?" she asked.
"They want what I know, access to family accounts..." The woman shrugged. "They didn't like it when I said no."
Something rang untrue in the statements, and Natasha trusted her instinct on that. She kept her smirk of a smile and gestured toward the door. "Well, then. Let's go."
The woman paused before opening the door. "Why do you want to destroy The Hand?"
"You don't need to worry about that."
Halfway down the hall, they ran into Yelena. She hadn't been terribly neat about her kills, apparently, which Starkovsky would have taken her to task for. Perhaps she did it because Starkovsky wasn't around any longer. If there was any justice in the universe, he would be merrily roasting in hell alongside the megalomaniac dictators of the world.
Yelena's eyes narrowed when she saw the woman with Natasha. "Well, now."
Natasha gave Yelena a sweet smile. "Imagine my surprise when I see her, and she says that she can help us find the other training houses."
With a bark of startled laughter, Yelena approached. "Oh, yes, I suppose Myung would know exactly where they are." When the woman tried to side step Yelena, Natasha moved into the space to block her. "I remember you, Myung. And I think you remember me."
"I don't know who you are or what you're talking about..."
"Oh, don't lie," Yelena crooned, continuing her steady advancement. She had her teeth bared and eyes flashing. What did she remember? What happened with this woman?
"I'm not lying," Myung protested.
"You're lying," Yelena insisted. "You remember the chair. The bamboo shoots. Dousing me with rice wine then lighting it, then putting it out with water only to apply electricity." Myung had grown more and more pale as Yelena spoke, and her retreat stopped only at the tip of Natasha's knife. "You remember. You have to remember, because I do."
But memory was faulty, wasn't it? Wasn't it?
Natasha remembered this place, remembered the sequence of the watch, remembered how the trainees moved. She could dance to its predictability. She did dance to its predictability, and this woman's gaze had been assessing, judging her, weighing her movements as carefully as any dancehall judge.
No, this woman wasn't an innocent.
She didn't stop Yelena from sinking her knives into Myung's stomach, driving her into Natasha's outstretched blade. The Korean woman collapsed into Natasha's arms, a betrayed expression on her face, and then her throat was sliced open quickly. Blood poured in a wave down her chest, her breath gurgling.
"Let's go," Yelena said, stepping over Myung as the blood continued to pool around her. "We still have work to do."
Gently, Natasha laid Myung on the floor and continued to move. The bangs and shouts from the floors below were growing louder, and James needed them. They all had to do their part, clockwork machinery to get the job done.
The Lady Hel would be so proud of all of them.
***
"So was it really about ideals, Rooskaya?" Natasha hissed, pushing Yelena into the wall of their hotel room as soon as the door was shut and locked. They were both battered and wounded, blood on their clothes. It hurt to slam Yelena like that, but Natasha was furious.
"What are you talking about?" Yelena asked wearily. The day's events were getting to her; even Hand trainees were formidable.
"You wanted revenge on Myung for what happened to you," Natasha hissed, shaking Yelena. She sensed James still behind her, watching them with the patience of a coiled snake despite his own wounds. He wouldn't interfere, not until he knew what it was about.
"Who?" Yelena asked, grunting when Natasha slammed her into the wall again. "I don't remember what you're talking about. I don't remember most of it. Once we got into the building, it starts to be a blur."
"I found a Korean woman named Myung surrounded by Hand trainees. I thought they were going to do to her what Starkovsky did to us, but her behavior wasn't quite right. Then when you saw her, you said she tortured you. Burned you, electric shocks."
Yelena's eyes grew distant. "I remember. I don't remember. It's all blurry, faded."
"We need to heal," James interrupted, voice even.
Natasha slammed Yelena into the wall one more time and then moved to the bag of medical supplies. They had bought some items from various drugstores as they moved through cities, avoiding SHIELD's facial recognition software. James and Yelena had also stolen quite a quantity of supplies from San Marino when they had raided it. Most of the affected staff and affected patients had been killed, the disruptor destroyed in the scuffle. Yelena had found the data on the computer and pulled it off onto a flash drive, and destroyed Lansing's computer in a fit of rage. Many of his paper files regarding its use were also destroyed, and any notes about the serum he was experimenting on.
They looked after themselves and each other in terse silence, and Natasha had to stitch a few deeper stab wounds on James' body. Yelena shook too much to do it, as if she was going into shock, and Natasha had to wonder how many triggers had activated in that training house. She didn't react when Natasha checked her scalp for head wounds, or when she suggested that Yelena lie down on the bed next to James. Usually she insisted that Natasha had to stay in the middle, but right now Natasha was taking charge. They acted like broken dolls, marionettes with their strings cut or mangled. She remembered that James tended to crash after missions, especially if they were more dangerous than anticipated, and it accelerated his healing. It was hard for him to override the programming left in his mind, especially when it was beneficial.
She crawled into the bed beside Yelena, who stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes. Natasha didn't like the look of that, and slid her hand along Yelena's stomach. The blonde didn't even flinch. Natasha leaned in to kiss her jaw, a gentle caress of a kiss even though there was still some simmering anger beneath her skin. Yelena still didn't respond to her.
No, that wouldn't do at all. Yelena had to be controlling her own body. Natasha wouldn't accept a marionette pulling on her strings.
She licked Yelena's lips, moving to hover over her body. Her lips parted slightly, but she was still largely unresponsive. "Lena," Natasha murmured against her mouth, stroking a breast over her clothes. "Come out and play."
Still nothing, so Natasha straddled Yelena and started to take off her clothes. Yelena didn't resist, even helped take off her bra and panties, movements wooden and automatic. Was this kind of behavior how she had been with Starkovsky? It was a horrible thought.
"Lena," Natasha murmured, simply caressing her. It was wrong to do more without her full consent, she knew that much. Her Red Room self wouldn't have stopped, would have gotten what she needed as long as there was the opportunity to. "Lena, it's Natalia. It's safe, lovely girl, it's us. No cameras, no sponsors." Yelena shuddered a little, perhaps remembering the last time Natasha had said such things to her. Trailing her fingers along the underside of Yelena's breast, Natasha murmured "Love, wake up. Come back to me."
Her eyes fluttered, and she looked at Natasha in confusion. "No drills today?"
Natasha smiled in relief. "No, Lena. No drills today."
Yelena smiled in return, sweet and relieved. "Oh, good. I don't know the routine well enough yet, I don't want to be whipped."
"No whippings," Natasha promised, her heart breaking a little. Yelena had regressed to age eleven or twelve, then. It was better than finding a different personality lying beneath her, since they wouldn't have recognized her. "Winter's here resting, just to keep us safe."
Her heartbreaking smile was still in place as she reached up to tug at Natasha's shirt. "Okay, then. He won't stop us, will he?" She laughed delightedly when Natasha shook her head, and tugged harder. "Good. Take this off, then. Let me see you, Natasha."
Off came the bloodied and torn clothing, the bra and panties stained with blood. Yelena grinned delightedly at the sight of Natasha kneeling on the bed in front of her, bare and ready for her touch. "Tell me what you want, Lena," Natasha murmured. Oh, she was still angry with Yelena, but perhaps it wasn't entirely her fault everything had gone straight to hell.
"I want your mouth on me," Yelena said, a shy smile on her face despite the bold words. They had been twelve together, experimenting on each others' bodies, figuring out ways to reclaim their identities after their sponsors ripped them to shreds. She ran a hand over the rise of Natasha's breast, then rubbed the nipple with her thumb. "Let's forget about the whips and bruises, the blood on the floor. Help me forget..."
Twelve year old girls, fighting each other, maiming each other, practically killing each other as old men watched in silent speculation. Twenty-eight girls slowly whittling themselves down, one by one by one, and now only two were left. Natasha definitely wanted to forget it all, wanted to bury herself in sensation and let go of everything.
Yelena first. James could take care of her once he woke.
Comfortably lying on her stomach, Natasha spread Yelena's legs and set to work licking and nuzzling the folds there. Yelena's breath quickened when Natasha swirled the tip of her tongue over her clit, soft at first, then gradually more and more pressure. The moans increased in volume, her thighs quivering on either side of Natasha's head. Yelena reached down to touch Natasha's crown, but she didn't pull on her hair or push at her. "Please, please," Yelena panted, her voice a high pitched whine. "Tasha, Natasha, please..."
Natasha continued until Yelena jerked beneath her lips and came. Her cries woke James, but he stayed where he was and merely observed the two of them in action. Natasha could see the rise of his cock, the desire building. He wouldn't touch Yelena, knowing she didn't like men, but he would fondle Natasha, kiss her, fuck her senseless. They loved each other, and it was a testament to how fucked up the Red Room was that this was the only way any of them could ever demonstrate how much they cared for one another.
Sitting on her haunches, Natasha looked at the two of them, her broken loves, her heart aching in her chest. Love wasn't enough, she knew that, but sometimes she wished it was. If she could fix them somehow, take the triggers out of their minds, leave them something other than the Red Room's shattered marionettes...
"Don't look so sad," Yelena murmured, sliding a hand along her thigh. "We still have each other, Natalia. They can't take that away from us."
But they did. They had destroyed what they had, and for a long time, Natasha had even forgotten what Yelena had meant to her, what James had been for her.
"Come," Yelena urged, pulling on her leg. "Come here, we'll take the sad away." She turned to James with an entreating expression. "Won't you, Winter? Because she loves you, even if she's not supposed to. She loves you like I love her, and she loves us both."
Oh god, Natasha's chest burned now, and she wanted to cry. This was what she had wanted when she burned down the Red Room. This was what she wanted to save. How could she be angry with Yelena now?
Carefully, they rearranged themselves on the bed, too narrow for all three of them at once. But Natasha straddled Yelena's face and bent her head over the juncture of her thighs. James knelt behind them both, lining up his cock to slide into Natasha as Yelena licked at her clit. Slowly at first, teasing, then faster and harder as if they had done this all the time while the Red Room was in operation. The three of them worked in unison, a seamless entity, as if they could slide inside of each other. This was what it meant to feel whole. The three of them together, and Natasha didn't feel empty, didn't feel the aching pressure of her ledger weighing down on her. It would be balanced, she wasn't awful, it would get done. Everything would be all right. She could do this, she could do anything.
Even crashing down from the high didn't take that feeling away. They were tangled up in each others' arms on the bed, hearts beating erratically, triggers and personality overlays silent. It could work. She would make it work.
They would take out the competition and Natasha would bring them home to SHIELD. She could save them, she could keep them.
She could make it work. She had to; she couldn't bear to lose them again.
***
There was no obvious sign of Natasha or the others. Clint didn't think there would be, but that kept a few junior agents busy. She had few friends within SHIELD that Clint knew of; Fury was definitely someone she trusted and respected, Maria Hill was tolerated and may have been liked if they spent more time together, and she liked Melinda May. Most agents weren't worth her time, because they couldn't see past her reputation or origins. Oh, she was pleasant enough to a number of people, but that didn't mean they were friends.
So he barged into Fury's office when Sitwell and Hill weren't around. Natasha definitely was irritated often with Sitwell's bland expressions and Clint knew Hill got irritated with him. Not that Fury wouldn't be, especially with barging in and likely creating more paperwork, but this was about what was best for Natasha.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't get your ass hauled out of here," Fury snapped without looking up from his computer screen.
Clint didn't think that meant Fury was unaware of him. "Natasha."
That got him to look up. "What about her? There had been radio silence."
"Contact was made. Sort of."
"Explain."
Fury was silent as Clint related Loki's visit, Natasha's statements and his own theories as to her behavior. "You think she's going to bring them in," he said after a long period of silence.
"I think it's a distinct possibility." Clint paused. "I've thought about what they could have hanging over her head other than our lives, and I don't think it fits. They're taking out Hydra and AIM personnel or collaborators. Messy and not at all how SHIELD regs would want it, but they're being taken out. I'm thinking she's pushing the targets."
"Word out in terrorist cells is that the Red Room plans on making a comeback."
"Sir, those three are the Red Room."
Fury steepled his fingers in front of his face and steadily stared at Clint. "So how am I to know for certain she hasn't reverted?"
Clint wanted to sigh and roll his eyes. "She makes the sacrifice play. She puts herself into impossible situations because her safety isn't as important to her as the mission. Yelena mattered to her when they were in the Red Room, before their heads got fucked with. Before she disappeared, she wanted our help with Yelena so it wouldn't get out of hand. We've seen what she's capable of with the Sarkissians."
"It could be triggers we missed."
"No, those are gone."
"Are you that confident we got them out?"
"Yes. And I think you are, too. You wouldn't send her on so many sensitive missions if you didn't. And she wouldn't trust you if any were left."
Fury leaned back in his seat and stared at Clint, but the archer refused to squirm. "You believe what you're saying."
"Absolutely."
"Or she could be fooling us all, playing a long game."
"Well, sir, that's crap," Clint replied flatly. "She was scared before heading out to stop Yelena, and requested that we help her take her down. That way, we could ensure she wasn't compromised and the job got done."
"The World Council-"
"Quite frankly, sir, I don't give a shit what they think. They've never been in the field, and they don't know what it can take to get the job done. They've never had to make the sacrifice play to get others out. They can't make that kind of hard call. They can push people around the world like chess pieces, they can sacrifice numbers and assets, but not because they've ever been on the ground in the middle of the action. They're paper pushers."
"You think just because you brought her in-"
"I think she's trying to do the same."
"Stop interrupting me, Agent Barton," Fury snarled. "Last I checked, I was still your superior officer around here."
Clint snapped his mouth shut.
"That's the first smart thing you've done since stepping into my office," Fury barked. "You cannot disrespect the World Council and expect to get away with it. You are considered expendable. Even I don't get away with that shit too often." He leveled Clint with a pointed stare and let that sink in for a moment.
"Natasha trusts me, and I have earned that trust," Fury continued, still staring at Clint. "I trust her in return with certain things."
"We've become her family," Clint insisted. "She would never betray us."
"Who do you think those two were to her before?" Fury pointed out. Clint's mouth snapped shut again. "If it comes down to us or them, who do you think would win out?"
"I think she'll try to save us all."
"But if she can't?"
Clint remained silent; he knew Natasha would try. Isn't that what mattered?
"It was not easy to get her head rearranged when you brought her in," Fury said evenly. "I understand the impulse to turn her, why you felt it was important. But that was work, even though she wanted to cooperate. By all reports, Belova and the Winter Soldier will not cooperate with the same procedures."
Silence. Clint knew of those reports; hell, he had written some of them himself.
"I understand you want to save them, that she would want to save them. I understand you want them to make a home here, to consider us family."
"Sir..."
"But we're not a family, Agent Barton," Fury continued. Clint flinched but remained silent. "I understand a fair number of our agents take on this organization as if it was, but we are not a family. We don't prioritize our missions to save one over hundreds, we do it for the greater good, to limit the chaos that this world can devolve into. It's gotten even more difficult, what with aliens and their issues thrown into the mix. Magic," he said in disgust, lips twisting around the word.
"If we can't save them, we have to cut them loose."
Clint looked at Fury, jaw tight. "I can't do that, sir. I can't abandon her, and if Belova and the Winter Soldier can be brought in, I will help do it. I know what it's like out there, Natasha knows what it's like out there. If anyone can do it, we can."
"But if we can't, we cut our losses."
Clint didn't reply, simply stared stubbornly back at Fury.
"Do you understand, Agent Barton? This is a job that demands sacrifices."
"I know. But there are limits to what we should be asked to sacrifice."
Fury leaned back in his chair. "I don't disagree with you."
"I'm on the ground, sir. I'm in the field. I haven't forgotten why I do this."
As Fury bristled with the implication, Clint stood up and headed for the door. "I didn't dismiss you, Agent."
"I don't think we have anything else left to say, do we?" Clint asked, not turning around.
There was a long pause before Fury finally said "No, I don't think there is."
Clint left without waiting for the "Dismissed."
***
***
To Chapter Two - Hiding In Plain Sight