Date: April 23, 2023
Word: 3110

~ Author's Note ~

Lyrics belong to Chord Overstreet, Hold On

ROSS... so I plan on removing Ross from the UN, I just don't know how. He is really going to hate Natasha, btw. So... any ideas?

Please remember that Steve has already had a run in with the Widows - before they brought him into the office - and now they are beating him up more. So if it seems like he's putting up less of a fight than Natasha in the movie, that's why...

Used Google Translate for all the Finnish translations, sorry if they are wrong!

WARNINGS: Graphic Descriptions of Violence – The Widows.

Helplessly praying, the light isn't fading
Hiding the shock and the chill in my bones

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.

There is a pile of blood pooling beneath him.

Steve grunts, squeezing his eyes closed, as the pain vibrates through his body. The widows are surrounding him on all sides. And one of them secures him in place, her arms wrapped around his neck. Tears fall down his cheeks, as he takes hit after hit.

One to the abdomen. Chest.

Again and again.

He notices the dark spot beginning to flood the edges of his vision, his lungs tightening against his ribs. But he continues to struggle through the pain, blood begins pooling in his mouth. Steve attempts to free himself of the Widow's hold, but there are too many of them. He slumps back in their hold in defeat, his vision blurring as another hit collides with his face.

Steve swallows, images flashing through his mind. The memories with Natasha that he protectively holds close to his heart. Her laugh as he wiped ice cream over her nose, her body curled into his, her sweet lips crashing into his, etc. He wants to do all those things again. He is not ready to die.

Not yet.

Suddenly, a ticking noise flows through the room. He swallows, breathing deeply, as he struggles to find the source. A loud boom echoes throughout the office, and red dust begins to fall across the group. The brunette holding Steve freezes, her eyes glowing a dark red, as she glances around confused.

Most of the Widows look confused. Or terrified.

Even horrified.

Steve gasps, his body vibrating with pain, as he begins to crumble to the floor. Everything is trembling. It hurts to breathe with several broken ribs scattered within his sternum. He can't bring himself to push his body off the ground; so he lies motionless, every breath is another battle to face.

Suddenly, familiar hands brush across the delicate skin of his cheeks. He struggles through his hazy glaze, the sight before him hard to recognize. It's red. The figure is covered in red - soaked in blood. But their eyes are a stunning emerald.

Natasha.

"Steve?" She whispers, questionably.

Her voice noticeably cracks, and tears leave stains in their wake down her cheeks. Gently, careful not to hurt any of his injuries, Natasha guides his face toward her direction, searching for any signs of awareness.

"Nat... Tasha," Steve struggles.

"I'm here," She whispers, "I'm here." She pulls him into her chest, while her lips rest gently against the edge of his hairline.

Natasha holds him protectively in her arms, stubbornly ignoring the concerned looks passed between Yelena and Tony. They have seen what was left in the wake of her rage. The hallways were bloody, broken bodies left scattered in the mist. But the sight surrounding them did nothing to prepare them for her.

Neither of them has ever seen her that broken.

Rage. Pain. Tears. Blood.

She was out of control. Broken and bloody.

Now she sits before them, holding the battered body of her love; her limbs shaking against her will, while tears flow down her flushed cheeks. The redhead can't even begin to comprehend the thoughts of her losing him. It is not a possibility. She can't imagine a world with him gone.

"Hey, look at me," Natasha commands softly, "We are going to get out of here. You are not going to die. You are not... not allowed to die." She ignores the way she begins to stumble over her words, roughly wiping away any evidence of past tears. "Do you hear me? You are not allowed to die!"

Her attempts are proven futile.

For tears continue to crusade down her cheeks against her wishes. She's a mess. But it doesn't matter. Not the stares at her back. Or the pain shaking her limbs. He's the only one that matters.

Natasha cries, and her attempts at protecting her weak resolve shatter. She breaks. There's no rage sheltering her from the pain. Nothing to pull her focus away from the hurricane rumbling through her mind.

"I... I love you," she whispers, "I love you."

She knows she should have told him those three words before now. But she couldn't before. There was always something holding her back. But now, with the thought of losing him invading her soul, there was nothing that could stop her. There's no doubt about herself strong enough to scare her away.

Natasha loves Steve.

She loves him with her whole soul.

The redhead pulls him closer to her chest, kissing the edge of his forehead. She doesn't notice the footsteps of someone coming up behind them, but it's a familiar hand that moves cautiously in front of her. Her emerald tear-stained irises collide with a chocolate glaze.

Tony.

She glances at his outstretched hand, nodding slowly at his unasked question. His fingers are gentle, warm as they circle around her forearm. He doesn't speak, not until he knows he has all of her attention.

"We need to get out of here," Tony insists carefully, "Let me get him. I can take Steve. We need to go."

Slowly, Natasha forces herself to nod. She watches, as Tony bears the weight of Steve, using his armor to hold the man on his feet. Steve grunts, his limbs shifting, as blinding pain travels throughout his body. He raises his blurry glaze, meeting Tony's chocolate orbs evenly, and a silent truce passes through them.

They are nowhere close to friends. But at this moment, there are no hate-filled glances or spiteful words. It's a truce. For now, there are more pressing matters to deal with. Later, perhaps, they might find the need to begin healing the rift between them. But the truce is enough for now, at least for Natasha's sake.

Yelena calmly moves to Natasha's side, wrapping her fingers around the redhead's forearm in order to gain her attention. Her emerald irises travel throughout the office, noticing all the confused and anxious Widows staring at her expectantly. Unconsciously, Natasha's fingers meet Yelena's, and she grips them tightly; as if they're the only thing keeping her steady.

"Mitä me teemme nyt?" What do we do now?

"Get as far away from here as possible," The redhead begins, her heartbreaking at the thought of all of these women – some of them, possibly late teens – having to experience the horrors within these walls. "You get to make your own choices now."

Suddenly, the carrier rumbles beneath their feet, and they know they're pressing close on time. They need to leave. Now. Before the whole carrier to the floor below them.

"We need to leave!" Tony yells.

"I'll be right behind you," Natasha calls, before turning her attention to the desk in front of her. It's obvious that Tony wants to protest, but after a long and meaningful look at Yelena, he hurries off after the Widows with a bloody Steve in his arms.

Natasha spares Yelena a glance, quickly typing on the screens in front of her, before swiping the ring she has kept safe in her pocket across the access pad. Quickly, she places a thumb drive in place, trying to download the data before the systems fail.

"You should go with them," She tells her sister.

"I'm not leaving here without you."

Emerald irises collide with hazel. And Natasha knows this is not going to be a battle she'll win. Yelena is not going to leave this room without her sister. Stiffly, she nods, reluctantly willing to accept defeat. She turns her attention back to the screens, the quick action sending pain throughout her face. Mainly her nose.

Oh right...

Quickly, Natasha places her fingers along the delicate skin of her broken nose, before resetting it. The blonde grimaces at her sister, all too familiar with the pain. She turns her to the number, hovering just over sixty-seven percent.

"Come on," she mumbles, "Come on."

Yelena waits stiffly, watching as the number continues to rise, before finally, it completely downloads all of the data needed. A yell of triumph slips past the lips of her sister, while the redhead places the drive in one of her pockets. And the younger sister reaches for the rest of the remaining vials, before quickly searching for a way out of the carrier.

They run from the office, while explosions echo around them from every direction. The hallway circling them is engulfed in flames. Natasha barely notices Dreykov's body lying lifelessly in the middle of the horror, the heat melting his flesh.

Maybe this time he'll burn for good.

Natasha grabs her glocks from her holster, shooting two rounds of bullets at a large glass window, before covering her head and breaking through. She catches a glimpse of Yelena's blonde hair through the corner of her gaze, noticing her sister behind her.

Immediately, the open sky surrounds them. And she tries to grasp a piece of metal off the side of the carrier, before forcing herself through one of the broken side windows. The sight before her is unexpected. Antonia is trapped behind glass.

The young woman is obviously struggling. She uses all her strength against the glass, but it's no use. She can not get out on her own. Someone needs to help her. It is almost fitting – Natasha almost killed her as a young girl, and now she has the chance to save her. She can vaguely hear Yelena call out her name, but the noise is muffled by the fog in her mind.

"Antonia," Natasha cries, the air struggling through her lungs. "I'm gonna open the door. You're gonna come after me. It's okay. It's okay." The redhead whispers, "I know you're still in there. And I'm not gonna leave you."

Quickly, Natasha presses the keypad, immediately the door begins to open. Taskmaster stares her down, and just as Natasha predicted: she attacks. But right as the blow would have landed, the floor beneath them falls to pieces. The redhead gasps, struggling to get a grip on her batons, before shoving them into the floor.

Natasha can see the sky before her now, the air in her hair, and she spots Yelena along the tarmac. She leaps from her place, tumbling through the air. Yelena smiles, running towards her older sister, relief visibly shown on her face.

But right as they came into contact, their arms wrapped protectively around the other, Yelena notices a figure in the distance behind Natasha.

"Oh, shit," Yelena curses.

Natasha frowns, turning in the direction of the incoming opponent. Taskmaster. Antonia. She's gaining on them fast. But right before she has the chance to get both of them, Natasha pulls away from Yelena's arm, while the force of the Taskmaster's arms circles around her.

But she saved her sister. That's what matters.

They fall through the air, narrowly avoiding some of the metal pieces flying throughout the air. Luckily, Antonia has a parachute, but the land still hurts. They crash to the ground, grunts slipping past their lips. Before they lock their glazes. A battle of wills.

"Okay," Natasha whispers, "Let's go."

The redhead makes the first move, knowing she needs to remove the helmet. In order to affect her with the red dust, and luckily, she still has one remaining. For all the others are with Yelena. Natasha narrowly avoids being stabbed, and uses the opportunity to steal the blade in hopes of defending herself. But she'll try one last time, hoping it doesn't turn into a fight.

"Enough," Natasha tries, raising the blade in surrender, as tears burn through her glaze. But her attempts are proven futile. The chemicals within Antonia's mind take over and win control, just as they always do. The fight continues, blow for blow. While neither succeeds in a hit strong enough to take the other down.

Not until Natasha jumps onto the Taskmaster's back, clinging to the woman's shoulders. She presses a few buttons, before finally finding the correct one. It's not long before the helmet is falling to the ground, Natasha and Antonia right along with it. Quickly, before she has the chance to react, Natasha activates the dust.

Antonia gasps, falling weakly to the ground, while tears immediately begin to pool out of her eyes. Everything's fuzzy. Until it's not. And Natasha inches closer, placing their foreheads together in a sense of comfort.

"Is he gone?" Antonia whispers brokenly.

"Is he dead?" Natasha had asked.

"He's gone," Yelena had promised.

"He's gone," Natasha promises.

Natasha swallows, weakly rising from the ground. She glances around, the sun shining in her face, noticing a jet parked a little ways away. Tony stands at the bottom, smiling, "I called for some backup."

Footsteps slowly move down the ramp, a familiar figure making his way down. She smiles, noticing the friendly expression on his face. "T'Challa."

"Miss Romanoff," The King nods, greeting her warmly, "We have much to discuss. But allow me to extend an invitation to Wakanda. Medical resources for yourself and Captain Rogers."

"Thank you," Natasha nods gratefully.

She turns her attention toward Tony, knowing he needs to go. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," he promises, "Take care of yourself, red. You're carrying precious cargo."

Natasha laughs, stepping forward, before wrapping her arms around him in an unexpected hug. His arms wrap tightly around her form, mindful of the injuries he's sure she has sustained.

"Steve'a already in the jet," Tony comments, "T'Challa's just waiting for you and I'll inform Ross about what has happened here. Minus a few details." He smirks, "Make sure you keep in contact. I really don't want to hunt you down again."

Natasha smirks, nodding softly, "Goodbye, Tony."

The assassin watches the man of iron fly away, before turning her attention to the other approaching group. It is obvious Melina's injuries, her hip or knee most likely, but Natasha doesn't comment.

"Everyone good?" She asks instead, a little cheeky.

"I am clearly injured," Melina deadpans.

Natasha smirks, turning her attention to Alexei as her body unconsciously tenses. She always was closer to Melina than him. "You got something to say?"

"I'd just mess it up," He replies wisely.

"So, what's our plan?" Melina asks, a little hopeful.

Natasha's smile strains, and she hates to see the hope diminish behind her mother's hopeful glaze. But as she glances behind them, to where the Widows are clearly waiting for them beside another jet – this one from the red room and not Wakanda.

"They need you," Natasha replies softly, as the others follow the direction of her glaze, before she begins. "He had Widows implanted all over the world," she focuses on her sister, "Melina will need to copy the formula, but you should be the one to tell 'em it's over."

"Okay, well, if you're leaving," Yelena begins, pulling her vest off her shoulders. "Then I guess you should take this. I know how much you like it."

"Shucks," Natasha laughs, taking the vest gently in her hands, stubbornly ignoring the tears stinging within her eyes. "It does have a lot of pockets."

Yelena laughs, "Very handy pockets."

Natasha sighs, her grip tightening on the vest, and she knows their time is coming to an end. She's just found the courage to turn away, when Melina's voice echoes in the air, freezing her in her tracks. Just like it used to do when she was younger.

"Hey," Melina begins softly, nodding subtly toward the direction of her stomach. "You take care of yourself, okay?"

"Don't worry," Natasha smiles, "I got this."

"I know," Melina replies motherly.

Natasha smiles, before turning away toward the jet, but she allows herself to look back one last time. Emerald irises meet a watery hazel. The sisters nod, a sense of relief spreading through both of them.

Two long whistles echo throughout the air.

One after another.

Natasha takes a deep breath, forcing herself to climb up the last steps of the ramp. She's glad T'Challa takes one long look at her appearance and doesn't comment on it. He smiles gently, "Are you ready?"

She nods, the words stuck in her throat. And she walks toward Steve, watching him lay unconscious on one of the medical tables. She combs through his hair, as her other hand travels down to the base of her belly, right over her womb. There is no stopping the tears flowing down her flushed cheeks.

The red room is gone. Dreykov is dead.

Natasha's free. And she's not alone.

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Let me take your hand, I'll make it right
I swear to love you all my life

XX

~ Author's Note ~

Do you like the ending of part two? It's a little bittersweet... Natasha started alone and doesn't end alone. But she is nowhere near fine.

XX

ACT THREE SUMMARY:

"I can feel your heart hanging in the air
It's buried in your bones, I see it in your closed eyes
Turning in, this is harder than we know
We hold it in the most when we're wearing thin"

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Natasha swallows thickly, turning her attention back to the controls. And her hand travels down to the base of her belly, hovering over her growing bump, in which her baby resides. Natasha's baby. Her child, whom she is going to do everything in her power to protect. To raise happily and without any worries.

And in order to do that, she needs to protect the rest of her family. The Avengers. Yelena. There are too many unknown variables to consider. Ross. UN. Being on the run from the government. Taking care of the remaining Red Room facilities. Finding Rose.

They have to be careful. There's too much at risk.

Or...

Natasha Romanoff has survived the civil war. She's survived facing the devil from her nightmares. But that doesn't mean she's in clear waters. The hunt is on to find her lost daughter. To hide from Ross, who is after her blood now more than ever. To protect her baby. Whatever it takes.