Remember

One

Natasha Romanoff is not a hero.
Natasha Romanoff is not a soldier.
Natasha Romanoff is not a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.
Natasha Romanoff is not a lover.
Natasha Romanoff is not American.
Natasha Romanoff is not Natasha Romanoff.

- - - - - - - - -

"Natalia?" A soft, feminine voice murmured lightly. It danced through the confusing sounds around them. Underwater, diluted, muffled. Flashes of bright light hurt her sensitive eyes. Gentle hands caressed a loose strand of ginger hair back into place.  A shadow appearing in front of the lights. One with long, brown hair that fell to one side, dark lips and green eyes filled with concern. "Natalia? Can you hear me?" She mused, cupping the assassins cold, pale cheek. She frowned, glancing away from the kind face that felt so familiar. She was conscious enough to tell the flashes of light weren't flashes at all, just people moving quickly around her. She couldn't feel her body, just the sensation of this woman's warm hand on her frozen skin. She turned her eyes back to what should have been those green caring ones but instead was met with harsh, analytical eyes she knew too well. Ice blue, cold and calculating. Pale, worn hands gripped her cheek harshly, sharp nails digging in bitterly and drawing blood. She'd cry out if she remembered how her voice worked. The woman's face loomed closer, not a strand of her blonde hair out of place from its tight bun as she scrutinised every detail of her face. "Welcome home, Natalia." She hissed venomously, a sick smirk twisting the corners of her mouth upwards. "We missed you."

Natasha's slow, drug clouded brain couldn't begin to comprehend want she meant before she became aware of something cold and rubber being forced into her mouth. Madame B.'s stoic face pulled away out of sight but her mechanical, cruel voice echoed in her head. Even as the first violent shocks of electricity racked Natasha's brain. Even as her body screamed separately from her mind that was still too lost to understand what was happening. Even as the past 10 years of her life faded away into nothingness. That hollow, deadly voice held strong in its Russian-accented torment of Natasha's very being.

- - - - - - - - -

Captain Steve Rogers leant over the table in front of him, his shoulders sagging and head bowed in exhaustion. It had been months since Natasha had vanished into thin air on a mission. No contact. One moment she'd been in a busy Peruvian market with Wanda and the next she was gone, he trackers left all across the country for them to chase to dead ends. He sighed, staring at the holotable's models with a frown. He'd watched this security footage on repeat for months, he scoured her files left from S.H.I.E.L.D's collapse continuously and came up empty handed. Just like every other time. It was like the Russian spy had never even existed.

"Steve?" Wanda mused lightly from the doorway, arms wrapped around herself with a blanket. Pale, Jade green eyes and long brown hair that framed her face delicately as always. "You still up?" She asked him softly despite the obvious, stepping closer to him almost cautiously like he'd attack at any second. He found the Sokovian lilt on her words oddly calming as he turned his head to look up at her. He didn't bother hiding the holographic projections the table showed them. Wanda knew he stayed up late trying to find her just like how she stayed up blaming herself for her disappearance. "You should rest." She told him carefully, leaning against the table next to him with a frown. He shook his head slowly, meeting her green eyes with his own blue ones.
"She's out there." He murmured groggily, his voice dry and scratchy. He didn't know when he last drank some water let alone what time it was now. Wanda only nodded, she was still shaking off the last remnants of her own nightmare filled sleep to form many words. Losing her brother and then Natasha had taken a toll on her already shaky mental state.

Steve sighed, looking away from her again and back to the footage. "One camera in the entire market. It pans across you two and when it pans back she's gone. You're stood alone." He muttered, shaking his head at the impossibility of it all. How can a woman vanish so quickly when she's literally stood next to someone she was talking to? She was on comms, Steve could hear their entire conversation yet she vanished right in front of them. Wanda only sighed, reaching down to turn the table off, the projections falling away to leave the white table top empty. "I know." She mused carefully, looking him over with a worried expression. "She'll come back Steve, okay? She'll come back." Wanda told him gently, trying to convince herself as much as him. She carried the weight of her guilt everyday. The guilt that she hadn't been able to find her, to save her. That she failed Natasha and everything the Black Widow had ever taught her.

Steve hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arm around Wanda, she felt so small and fragile, so different from the pure power she contained. Somehow it was familiar though, comforting someone close to him like this, he was grateful for the distraction.
"I'll make coco." He murmured, squeezing Wanda gently before moving away towards the lift for the kitchen. Wanda's shoulders slouched as he turned his back to her, the pressure to be strong dissipating.
"I'll catch up." She assured him, turning back to the holotable once she'd heard the affirming ding of the lift. She hesitated at first, her fingers hovering over the button before finally turning the contraption on and letting the video Steve had been observing fill the space again.

It displayed the busy market they'd been stood in, Wanda watched herself stop at a stall in the far edge of the screen as the camera panned away. A familiar redhead stood to her side, Natasha's fingers running across some of the jewellery in front of them. Wanda found it strange she remembered the rough nature of Natasha's hands, the hands of someone who fought and trained and worked hard for their power. She closed her eyes for a moment before sighing, looking back at the holograms as Natasha finally came out of view, the video had no audio but Wanda could remember the conversation perfectly.

"Do you often find yourself buying trinkets?" Wanda had asked, trying to push aside the lilt in her accent like Natasha had taught her but she knew it didn't work by the amused look on Nat's face.
"They remind me of the people we help, the things we can accomplish." Natasha had admitted with a smile, they'd both caught Steve's amused huff over the comms and for a brief moment had made eye contact with knowing looks. Wanda remembered turning away briefly, looking at a collection of earrings with a small smile, she remembered replaying Natasha's words, remembered the way the corner of her lips pulled up into that smirk that made her go weak in the knees. Worst of all, was remembering the panic as she turned back to show Nat a set of earrings only for the woman to have vanished. She would never forget how it felt to have all the air ripped out of her lungs, or the way her eyes scanned the crowd desperately for the familiar finger hair but came back empty. She remembered the panic in her voice as she asked Steve for eyes on Nat, she remembered his panic when he couldn't find her from his birds eye view either.

Wanda quickly turned the table off again, lowering her head as a single tear escaped that she desperately wiped away. Widows don't cry, or so she'd heard. Natasha was her only source after all. She found herself moving autonomously towards the lift, getting in and heading down to join Steve in the kitchen. They would find Nat tomorrow, that's what they kept saying when their day turned out to be useless, that they'd try again tomorrow and they'd find something. Anything would be better than nothing at this point, Wanda just wanted to know if she was alive.