Work Text:
"Steve, she's my sister-!" Nat lets out a frustrated breath as Steve's face goes into I'm-captain-america-and-because-I-wear-a-flag-I-am-right mode. She squares her shoulders as he puffs his chest in preparation to lecture her.
"Natasha, we don't know that." Hes trying to be gentle, but his voice and posture is dripping in repressed guilt and exasperation. She crosses her arms, and she's well aware that she looks like a petulant child, only further justifying his tone of voice.
"How!? How could she not be? We've run the tests, Steve! Her DNA matches mine, her psychoanalysis came back fine, and she's no illusion, that's for sure! So, tell me, Steve - how could we not know that she's my twin?" She can feel the wild look in her eyes get a little bit wilder; her hair is already frazzled from her fingers running through it all night. She's willing to bet that she looks like a mad scientist.
"Do you really think it's not possible for some extraterrestrial-"
"God, Steve. Just say alien like someone from the 21st century, will you?" He sighs, flicks his eyes up towards the ceiling before looking back down at her.
"Fine. Nat, do you really believe that some alien from a billion galaxies away couldn't imitate a human to a T?" She cocks her hip. She's about ready to put her I'm-Natasha-Romanov-do-you-really-want-to-fight-me? face on.
Steve sees her frustration about to peak and takes a deep breath, "Natasha. You know I want it to be her. You have to know that. But we have to take precaution. If it is her? Hey! Great news. If it's not? Then we're expecting it, and we are less likely to be caught off guard by an attack. Okay? Okay." Natasha huffs.
"Fine. Then where do we start with proving that it's really her?" Steve seems relieved when her stance relaxes into acceptance.
"Full-scale interrogation. Have her repeat everything that you remember from your own childhood. Have experts in body language and that whole thing analyze her reactions to possibly emotionally draining memories. If she reacts accordingly than I'll be a little more accepting of her being your real sister. If she doesn't then," He shrugs.
"Okay. Fine. So, what? Tomorrow then?" Steve nods and after a beat of silence, holds his arms up in an offer for a hug. She uncrosses her own and wraps them around his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes and pulling him down.
"I hope this works out for you, Nat. And if it doesn't, I'll be here for you." He mutters into her shoulder and gently squeezes her waist before stepping back.
----------
The two-way mirror feels a little bit too reality TV cop show to Natasha. Plain black table, two foldable chairs on either side, cameras are monitoring Ana's every move, and facial expressions. It all feels like a bit too much.
Natasha flicks her eyes over her own face, assessing the hidden tension and discomfort in the faint lines around Ana's mouth and eyes. She's talented in deception, but she's no SHIELD agent.
"Whenever you're ready." Maria's voice crackles through the comm, and Natasha goes into interrogation mode. All business, just like the old days.
"Where were we born?" Steve said a full-scale interrogation; she's starting from the beginning.
"Stalingrad, Russia." Completely monotone.
"When?"
"1928."
"Who is Ivan Bezukhov to us?" A look passes over Ana's face, and then it's gone.
"Russian soldier. He raised us."
"After what happened?" Another looks flashes across her features.
"After enemy troops invaded us, they killed our mother."
"What about our father?"
"Ivan was the closest thing we ever had to one." Natasha feels those words like a punch to the gut. She ignores it.
"Who were we recruited by afterward?"
"The KGB." This time, Natasha identifies the look as dark and angry.
"Why did they want us?"
"They knew our parents."
"What were we to do for them?"
"Learn everything about the spy world. And how we had no place in the real world."
"What was the name of the facility we were sent to train at?"
"The Red Room."
"What happened if we were caught misbehaving?"
"Punishment."
"Be specific."
"Isolation. Locked in a room with mirrors on all surfaces."
"What about staying up past curfew?"
"Chained to a wall for as long as we could last."
"Sneaking out?"
"Kill a classmate."
"Failing a class or assessment?"
"Kill the teacher."
"Personal items being kept?"
"Burned. Never enough to scar."
Natasha leans back in her chair; Ana knows all the basics. As she suspected. Now all Natasha has to do is think about specific memories.
"Why did Laura never speak?"
"Her Russian was imperfect and choppy. She told us it was safer not to speak at all."
"What did she look like?"
"Blonde, blue eyes, skinny, kept her hair in a braid, and never wore anything other than plain, black T-shirts."
"What was your first mission?"
"A threat was seen heading towards an off coast, abandoned naval base. I was to execute him and have no witnesses."
"What was mine?"
"Seduce an assassin into giving you information of the people on his hit list." Natasha leans forward again, elbows resting on the edge of the table. Ana copies her movements and meets her eyes dead-on.
"What was our graduation ceremony?" Ana raises a brow, and Natasha glares fiercely because her twin isn't supposed to be getting confident and playing games with her emotions right now, "The first one." She lets herself lash out in response to Ana's silent question and immediately hears the crackle of her comm in her ear.
"Natasha," Steve warns in a low voice, and she would shoot a glare at the mirror in retaliation if she weren't interrogating her mind game playing twin across from her.
"Sterilization." The answer manages to pull her frustration back to the far corners of her mind, and she nods briskly. Ana has her studying face on as Natasha tries to remember the repressed memories from her life before SHIELD, her features smooth back over to impassiveness when Nat looks back up at her.
"The Winter Soldier," It's a nasty card to pull on Steve, but her emotions are out of order, and he's the easiest target to direct them towards.
"What about him?" Ana's getting more and more smug as she crosses her arms and tilts her head, there's a small lilt in her voice that resembles a teasing tone.
Natasha sighs heavily and resists the urge to rub the bridge of her nose, "Who was he? What did he do?"
"A trainer. Well, actually, more like a training dummy that fought back that happened to have a metal arm. He was an asset to Hydra, a hitman basically." Her voice slips towards monotone, and a small frown plays at the corners of her lips as she talks about him. Natasha knows why. Ana looks back up, and they share a look, and the spy realizes that she knows why too.
In a moment of unplanned hope, Natasha lays her hand on the table, palm up. Ana reacts without a second of hesitation and wraps her fingers around the blonde's wrist, then squeezes gently. Natasha returns the gesture, then clears her throat and stands up, heading towards the door.
Steve is waiting for her directly behind it, and she can see he's upset with the way his shoulders are held back. She tries to apologize with her eyes for a few seconds before turning towards the others waiting, "It's her."
Everyone's eyes flick to the experts in the room who glance at each other, then nod in confirmation. Natasha lets a small smile appear on her face and turns to look over her shoulder at Steve, "Well, Mr. America, there seems to be no extraterrestrials in this building tonight." And despite his previous frustration, he manages to flash a smile that shows that he's happy for her.
----------
Later, Natasha has the untouched guest room on her floor set up and is reading a hunting magazine that, for some reason, was sitting on the dresser. Ana has been in the shower for the last twenty minutes, which makes sense since her hair was almost as greasy as Loki's the last time Natasha saw him.
Finally, Ana walks out dressed in a fluffy robe and has her hair up in a towel; she doesn't flinch when she spots Natasha reclined against the headboard of the bed. Her twin doesn't say anything until she sits down at the edge of the bed near Nat's knees.
"What's up? Avoiding emotions again?" Natasha rolls her eyes as her sister gives a playful smirk and leans over to take the towel off her head.
"Always." She hides her smile behind a page turn, but that doesn't stop Ana's laugh from reaching her ears. Once the redhead has stopped pointlessly ruffling her hair and has started finger-combing through the strands, Natasha tosses the magazine in the general direction of the dresser where it was initially. "I have to know. What happened? How did you-" Natasha clears her throat, but manages to keep her eyes on her face, "survive?"
Ana turns so one of her knees is resting on the bed and she's facing Nat more directly, her fingers keep moving steadily through her hair even though she's gnawing at her bottom lip in hesitation. Then, she sighs, and her hand falls to her lap, "I wasn't supposed to, but I'm almost positive you know that." Natasha averts her eyes, "I-I don't know how, or why but I managed to survive long enough for them to throw me out the back. I tore the sheet and wrapped the bandages, found a weak link in the fence, and ran as long as I could before collapsing. Managed to hide out, provide the medical attention to the- to the wounds, and then bounced around Russia with fake ID's for so many years I lost count to earn enough money to head to Canada. Stayed there for a year or so before an agent showed up outside my apartment, and then I crossed the border and came to New York. By that time, you had the media's attention, so I thought I could come here, make a life, and find you again afterward. I had to make sure you didn't- you never thought it was your fault. Because it wasn't."
There are tears in Ana's eyes as she finishes, and she reaches out to grab Natasha's knee. The blonde barely manages not to flinch back. "How did they not realize you were still alive?" Natasha keeps her eyes above her sister's shoulder but slides her palm underneath Ana's to gently hold her hand.
Ana gives a wavering smile and looks away, "I guess they trusted you enough." The air gets knocked out Nat's lungs at that, and this time, she does flinch. Ana squeezes Natasha's hand hard enough for her knuckles to go white. "Natasha, you have to understand that I know it wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do because you needed to survive. I understand, okay? And I don't blame you, at all. There is nothing you could ever, ever do or say that would make me change my mind about that."
Natalia Romanova doesn't cry; she's a robot with no emotions; that's just who she is. She uses her lack of emotions to dig into the crevices of scumbag's psyches; that's her job description. Natasha Romanoff doesn't know what else to feel other than shame when tears start tracking their way down her face. Ana doesn't say anything, she just pulls the blonde close, and the twins stay like that for as long as it takes for Natasha's eyes to dry up.