Widow of Siberia

Chapter 9

Being in the Red Widow’s clutches was unlike anything Natasha could have imagined at the beginning, and yet, knowing what could have happened, she couldn't help but feel conflicted. 

From what Natasha could understand, when the Avengers had used the infinity stones to bring half the population back, Bruce had tried to bring her back too. When she managed to call him, he told her he had thought about bringing her home. And that word, home, was left up to the stones to decide what that meant to Natasha. The one thought in her mind when she died was Vienna. Natasha had been so sure that her little sister was dead. She hoped that she would be able to see her again in death. But Vienna wasn't dead, and the stones had taken her straight to where Vienna called home. Siberia. 

“Natasha,” Alexei’s voice drew her attention, “You are awake. You really packed a punch before, no problems for you there—”

“You knew.” Natasha spoke quietly, her head still low as she sat at the edge of her bed. “You knew she was alive.”

The sun seeped through the closed curtains of the back room in Melina’s new farm, quaint floral things that Natasha never would have assumed Melina would have chosen. 

“Natasha,” Alexei sighed, rubbing his face as he hovered in the doorway, “it was only a few months, and—”

“It was a year,” Natasha snapped, standing from the bed as Alexei avoided looking at her, “she thought the world of you when we were training with the Headmistress. You could do no wrong, no matter how many times you beat her. The least you could do is help her now that you had the chance.”

Chest heavy, Alexei kept his eyes down, the fresh scar on Natasha’s face too much to take in. Sidorov warned him that Vienna was dangerous, cruel, but he had just wanted to live. The coward in him made that scar. 

“You're awfully fast to forgive,” he said quietly, the pattern in floorboards seemingly extremely interesting, “it's not like you.”

“You are not forgiven.”

“Not me,” Alexei corrected her, lifting his gaze with a deep breath, “you're defending Vienna like she hasn't been torturing you for all those months. About a year now, right?”

Natasha opened her mouth but nothing came out, her jaw clenched as she glared at Alexei. 

“You weren't there,” she said dismissively, her thoughts on the last year so muddled not even she could make sense of them, “You have no idea what happened between me and her.”

“Ah,” Alexei scoffed, throwing his hand up towards her face which made her tense involuntarily, “I can see it on your face, in how you act now. Natasha, I am glad that you are home, but we need you to be here, with us.”

“You don't understand,” Natasha responded, her voice raising as she walked away from him towards the window, “there were moments when she was so… gentle.”

“She lied.”

“No.” Natasha shook her head, fixed in her belief. “You didn't see it.”

“I saw her kick you away,” Alexei said quietly, his frown firm in the view that he had girls to take care of in front of him. He didn't want to have to wrestle another into his care when she didn't want to be there. “Your ribs are still broken. She didn't hold back.”

“There's something wrong with her,” She said, eyes staring out at the sunset as her hand lifted the floral curtains at the window. 

“I will deal with it,” Alexei told her as he backed up towards the door, “You will keep yourself safe from her.”

Shaking her head, Natasha kept quiet as she stayed fixed on the sunset. There was no denying that her injuries had been inflicted by Vienna, but there was so much doubt in her. Whether Vienna's conditioning had worked and breaking away from a forced loyalty was harder than she thought it be, was what was going on in her head or not, Natasha didn't know. But, for seven years, Vienna had been the most important thing in Natasha’s life. For seven years, they were sisters. She had left her little sister on that rooftop to die, and the guilt of that had crushed her for years. 

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(TW: this scene involves the implication of SA of a child. No specific detail is mentioned it is only Natasha’s reaction to the realisation)

2002

Darkness was the only cover that Natasha needed. The guards around the Headmistress’ ballet school were more relaxed, tired and had a tendency to rely on the fact that the Widows were so scared of punishment that they never broke any rules. She slipped seamlessly into the bunk room down the hall from her own. Vienna had been inside all day. Not a word from anyone about it. She was unwell according to the Headmistress but illness wasn't usually good enough of an excuse, which only left one other option, one Natasha didn't want to imagine. 

She crept silently over to the side of Vienna's bed, right by the window, one they looked out of at the stars often. Her little sister was already awake, her eyes hollow and lacking the emotion they usually had. Natasha’s heart sank. 

“Hey sunshine,” Natasha whispered, keeping her hands to herself as she crouched down by her head. 

She remembered her first honeypot mission much more vividly than she wanted to. She couldn't offer a touch of comfort to Vienna, not now. 

“There's nothing I can say that you'll hear right now,” Natasha said softly, holding her knees to her chest as she tried to keep her voice even despite the rage and hurt twisting inside her. “But know this, this did not destroy you. Nothing can. You will stand back up again. Not today and probably not anytime soon either, but one day you will stand strong again.”

A single tear fell silently from Vienna's eye as she looked into Natasha’s eyes. Her face didn't change, the same sullen expression, same with her position, curled up under the blanket like a bird with a broken wing. 

“Do whatever you need to, okay,” Natasha told her, glancing over at the door before bringing her full attention back to Vienna, “hit harder, shoot crooked, dance until you can't walk. Whatever you need.”

Vienna made the smallest of nods, just pulling down her chin really but Natasha understood. 

“Try and sleep, sunshine,” Natasha whispered as she got up to sneak out of the bunk room again. “I promise you, it'll help.”

Feet light against the marble floors, Natasha left the room with one last glance at her little sister. 

For the next few weeks, Natasha remembered hitting so hard her knuckles broke a few times in training. The Headmistress had been delighted to see such dedication but Natasha had never been angrier. Vienna was twelve. It was unacceptable. She decided that day that they would leave, that she would get them both out of the Red Room even if it killed her.