Control (Avengers Fan Fiction)

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"This is insane." Bruce mumbled as he looked at the image of what was suppose to be Scarlett's broken fibula and cracked femur. Instead, the image was of a mostly healed leg. It was impossible. She shouldn't have been able to walk without a boot or crutches for weeks, months even. If Bruce didn't know any better, he'd say that she didn't break get leg in that same day. It was healed to much. He had just went in to give her a sedative and taken an X-Ray of her leg while she was unconscious.

Since finding out that she was some how related to the HYDRA agent, Natasha disappeared without so much as a heads up to when she'd be back So Bruce couldn't even ask her questions

"She's a quick healer." Tony commented. "Enhanced, no doubt. Probably the result of their experiments."

"She's got some freaky, badass looking scars." Rhodey stood by the table with his arms crossed. A tablet sat on the table in front of him with video footage of Scarlett in an interrogation room.

"Looks like someone got her with their nails." Pietro said. He was talking about the three scars that trailed down her left jaw and the side of her neck.

"That one's from one of the kids in her class." Bucky mumbled, his fingers to his lips. Steve looked at his best friend, his brows crinkled together. "They made the kids fight to the death. One of the girls Scarlett was trained with did that to her."

"How many kids were in her class?" Wanda's voice was quiet and hesitant. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer to the question.

"Twenty-six."

"How many crazy as hell assassins made it out of there?" Sam asked.

"Just one." Bucky stood up, his hands gripping in tight fists by his sides. He needed to move.

———

While the rest of the Avengers discussed Scarlett, Clint went to talk to Natasha. Friday told him that she was in her room. The Hawkeye hesitantly approached his best friend's bedroom. The door was left open, which was something Natasha didn't do.

Clint hesitantly knocked on the open door, his eyes instantly finding Natasha near the wall of windows.

"Nat? Hey. Everyone.... We're all worried about you." His voice was quiet and hesitant.

"I'm fine." Her voice was flat and lacking any emotion.

"Okay. Where.... did you go for two days?"

Natasha was silent for a long period of time. Clint knew he couldn't force her to talk. He had to wait for her to be willing to speak with him. So Clint leaned against the doorway to her room, trying to think of what could be wrong with Natasha. After nearly ten minutes of pure silence, she moved to sit on the edge of her bed with something in her hands.

"I was young.... still in the Red Room when I had her." Natasha's voice was barely audible. Clint had to read her lips to be able to know what she was saying. "She was beautiful and perfect."

Natasha held the item in her hand out for Clint. It was a picture. He crossed the room and took the picture from her. It wasn't just any picture, it was an ultrasound image.

"Tasha, why didn't you tell me?" Clint asked quietly, moving to sit on the bed next to her. Natasha shook her head, brushing a few tears from her cheeks.

"I never told anyone. It.... It was my secret.... my burden." Natasha took the picture from him. "She was.... Her name was Rosalie Grace." A soft but heartbreaking smile crossed her lips. "She had the brightest blue eyes I had ever seen and her smile just.... You would've loved her, Clint. She was always smiling.... always happy."