(no subject)

[ienablu]

A soft wind blows through the redwood trees. Pink cherry blossom

A smell reaches her



The chimes in the ___ corner of the room go off.

Natasha wakes up and her right hand shoots out to grab her phone. A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and she answers the call. "This is Romanoff."

"It's Hill. We've got another one. How soon can you get


~


"Well," Natasha says, "shit."

Hill snorts in reply. "Yeah," she replies.

Natasha passes the aerial photos back to Maria, and dons a pair of booties. "Has the roof been cleared?"

"As best as we can manage. You have the appropriate anti-wards, I would assume."

Natasha turns back to give Maria a baleful look for a few beats, before opening the door and stepping onto the roof.

Aerial views always feel different than being on a crime scene.

"What's your first impression?" Hill asks.

"This was done by an expert." Natasha takes a few steps towards the corpses piled in the center of the roof, and instead takes a walk around it, looking at the splatter of blood against the gravel. "This area has been disturbed." She looks back at Hill. "Both after the murders, and in the middle of the spell casting."

Hill nods.

Natasha looks around the roof again. Something is deeply unsettling to her, and she can't quite pinpoint it. There's a familiar energy here, but it's masked– she's spent a lot of time around a lot of unsavory people, but she doesn't know which exactly it is.



"Hey, Megan."

"Hey, Natasha."

"I owe you a strawberry milkshake, don't I?"

There's a long sigh on the other end of the phone call. "I'm busy, you know that."

"But I also know that you have a weakness for strawberry milkshakes."

"I'll text you when I'm done with this script. Don't hold your breath."

"I can hold my breath for quite some time."

Natasha cannot hold her breath for three hours, but she doesn't mind the wait.

"So, what's so important?" Megan asks, as she finally flops down at the counter at the local ice cream parlor.

"I'm on a case."

"So, what's new?" Megan hazards.

Natasha smiles. "Order first, and then we'll go over the details."

"Do the details entail any gory bits? Because if so, I'd rather not get the milkshake."

"I just have a series of theoretical questions."

Megan narrows her eyes, but takes the bills that Natasha holds out for her. She returns a minute later, and glances around. "You...?"

"Ward this conversation so no one can listen in?" Natasha finishes. She nods again. "It's no states secrets, or anything like it, though I am thankful for your concerns."

Megan takes a long sip of the strawberry milkshake. "Just because it's not state secrets regarding your questions, my answers may be a different matter."

Natasha nods. "This is more personal, I suppose, than professional though. What do you do when you recognize an energy?"



Natasha gives a disarming smile to the receptionist. "Hello," she greets.

The receptionist gives a polite smile back. "Hello," she replies.

"I was hoping to see if Dr. Ross is available for a quick discussion?"

The receptionist's smile goes bland. "I'm sorry, but Dr. Ross has a very booked schedule, and I am afraid that she doesn't have time to field any questions from strangers."

"I'm not a stranger," Natasha says. "I've conferred with Dr. Ross before." She pulls out her SHIELD badge, and slides it across the counter. "And as I said, I was hoping I could speak with her again."

"Let me call to see if she's in her office," the receptionist concedes.

"If not her office, you might want to try the 2883 lab extension."

The receptionist narrows her eyes, but calls Betty's office, and then, hesitantly, the lab extension. "Yes, Dr. Ross? I have a law official here to confer with you." A beat. "Yes." Another beat. "Yes." A longer silence. "Alright then, thank you."

"May I?" Natasha asks, angling her head towards the warded glass doors.

The receptionist hits a button, and the doors slide open.

"I don't think your new receptionist likes me," Natasha calls out, as she makes her way into Betty's lab.

"That's her job," Betty calls back. She looks up from her work, briefly. "Hello, Natasha. How long has it been?"

"Too long. But I have my work, you have yours. We can catch up over coffee."

"But for now you want me to run an analysis on crime scene photographs to see if our technology can pick up anything out of the norm."

"I still can't believe it's advanced this far," Natasha says, as she hands over the manilla envelope with all the crime scene photos. "Back when I was being trained, the idea of tracing was still new and spotty."

"This is still new and spotty– it can pick up signatures, certainly, but if someone is going through lengths to disguise their signature, we're still working on picking up the right one, not the decoys."





"Agent Calderon," Natasha greets, with a nod of her head.

"Agent Romanoff," he replies. "You making any headway on your cases, yet?"

Natasha gives him a thin smile. "I'm looking into all of the leads," she says, civilly as she can manage.

"At the rate the murders are going, it's looking like there's going to be another coming up soon."

"No less than two days," Natasha agrees. "I've looked at the dates, I've noticed them getting more frequent. Trust me."

Calderon nods. "You know, I know a guy, he may know something."

"That's a lot of knowing and a lot of vaguities."

"There's a cathedral, down around Hell's Kitchen. I know," he says pointedly, in response to Natasha's sigh, "that it ain't popular to talk about God's role in all of this, but one of the murders was close to my church, and I know the priest. Good guy. He may know something that may lead to something."


She waits until Mass is over, and slides up the aisle, and goes over to the confessional booths.

"Forgive me, Father Matthew," she says. "It's been some time since my last confession."

"If you're going to speak to me in this capacity," Matt replies, "do it right. Forgive me, Father, for I have–"

"Sinned," Natasha finishes for him. "It has been seven week and three days since my last confession."

"Longer than that, still," Matt says.

"I have been on a case, and I am worried for those around me," Natasha says. "One of the murders was in an alley just a block down from a church where someone I care about deeply attends, and I worry that he may be in harms way."

"The Lord watches out for those in his flock. I am far more concerned about this case for you."

"It always amazes me that you did not take Saint Jude as your patron," Natasha says, dryly.

"Just because he is not my patron saint does not mean that I do not pray to him for those I care about." There's a beat. "What's different, Natasha?" he asks.

"Barton's off the case. Still locked up, under going regular exorcisms. He's clean, we all know he is, but the World Security Council won't clear him. I'm going at this solo, and I know I can–"

"But you shouldn't have to," Matt concludes for her.

"You live nearby," Natasha says, gracelessly changing the subject. "Was there anything about that night that was suspicious?"

He sighs, heavily. "Go forth," he tells her, "and sin no more."


She's walking by Nelson and Page, Attorneys at Law.

It chills Natasha, to realize that this murder was near Matt.

Ever other murder, too, close to her, in some way.



"What if they're about me?" Natasha asks. They can't be about her, she can't be so small minded to think so, but she does.

May shakes her head. "I felt that way, too," she confesses, in a low voice. "After I came back. Felt like everything had to do with me. Like everything was my fault. Losing your partner, it makes you lose your perspective."

Natasha sighs. "I think I need another drink," she says.

May gives her a wan smile. "Coming right up."



"Word is that Director Sun is looking to take the case away from SHIELD," Hill says.

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I'm not really surprised anymore. Feels like Sun tries to take any case we stay on for more than three days."

"She's a territorial and aggressive micromanager, but it might not be a bad idea," Maria says.



Natasha shakes her head. "I just don't know what Yelena's planning. These are hers, but she's either being paid to commit these murders, which doesn't make sense, given the differing backgrounds and what little could be gained from these, or she's doing in preparation for something herself."

"Think she would try summoning an Asgardian?" Hill asks.

Natasha shakes her head. "Not her style– what's she got to gain from summoning an Asgardian? She's arrogant, narcissistic, would probably think she could do better than any summoned Asgardian."

"So what's her game?" Hill asks. "What do these all have in common?"

Me, Natasha thinks, but doesn't say. She clears her mind, and tries to think objectively.



"Hey," Natasha says, with a wide smile.

Sam Wilson stares down at her. "Hey," he replies, not budging an inch.

"Mind if I come in?" she asks.

"A bit," he replies, honestly.

She gives him a winning smile. "Please?" she asks.

He sighs, but steps back, and lets her slide into his home.

There are a surprising amount of birdcages.






“I can’t tell you the last time I read a clean fire.”


“I couldn’t tell Hill, but I can tell you – last time I read a clean fire was when you and I were stationed in Syracuse.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “You saying I did this?”

“No, but SHIELD will be if you don’t get them who did it.”
I don’t know who




"I need permission to do a city-wide vision."

Carter stares at her. "No," she says.

"It's only a fraction of a second– an image–"

"Still no," Carter tells her.

"It will be the clue we need to get our murderer out in the open–"

"Do you know how much red tape there is to dance through to get even that fraction of a second visible? I'm going to need authorization from the city council, the state council, the head of the police, the head of the firemen, not to mention Director Sun, we're talking two weeks for me to even get a meeting where such a decision could be made–"

"She will keep on murdering people if I don't do this."

"Tell me who the murderer is, and we can start talking then."

Natasha stares straight at Sharon. "If you know her identity, she will know. This needs to stay between us."

"You were put on the case because you are one of our strongest agents, because you stay detached and cool-headed. If this case is getting personal for you, I need you off it."

"Sharon," Natasha says, quietly, "I need you to trust me."

"I trust you as an agent, and I trust you as a friend. But that does not change the fact that the rules are what they are for a reason, and I can't bend them for you, got it?"

Natasha stares at her for a long minute. "Got it," she says, finally, before turning and walking out of the office.

"Well?" Hill asks, as she falls in step with her.

Natasha turns and gives Maria a grin. "This is going to be fun," she says.

"What is?"

"An unsanctioned vision."

Maria stops for a moment. "You're kidding."

"Don't tell anyone. Carter knows, but she's pretending not to. She can't bend the rules for me, but I can sure as hell bend them myself."


"I want you to know that everyone is very unhappy with you," Carter tells her.

"And you?"

"Did you get what you needed?"

Natasha gives a shrug. "I'll be able to tell by tonight."

"Orders are that I'm supposed to keep you under custody until IA can come through and investigate."

"Can those start tomorrow?" Natasha asks.

"What's so important tonight?"

"I need to be where I told her I'd meet her."

Sharon raises an eyebrow. "You're going to a Russian ballet theatre? I don't think you can quite manage to get to Moscow tonight, not unless you've got some magic reservoirs you haven't told us about."

"Trust me, Sharon."

"Trusting you isn't the issue," she replies. "It's getting everyone else to that is."



The theatre is old and abandoned, and due for demolition in the near future, as soon as the legal disputes get resolved.

Natasha lights candles all along the side of the walls, and flicks them on. It drains most of her remaining power.

And she waits.

The first burst of cold air has Natasha sitting up, casting her magic out, a barrier to feel, nothing more than that.

Familiar magic runs along the threads, like hands dipped into a stream.

Yelena moves past where Natasha is sitting, and makes her way up to the stage, before taking center stage. She clicks her fingers, and immediately lights start glowing from above. She tilts her head up, basking in the light.

Yelena has changed very little since Natasha saw her last. Black clothing, black thread weaving protective spells on every article.

"I had plans for the night," Yelena announces.

"I know," Natasha says.

"I was surprised to get your invitation."

"I know."

Yelena looks down at Natasha, her smirk cutting a dark shadow against her face. "What do you not know, Tasha?"

"Why are you doing this, Lena?"

"Oh, I cannot tell you that," Yelena replies. She takes a step back, and starts pacing around the stage. "There are no wards here."

"I don't have the power for it," Natasha admits.

"No, all your power is centered on protection. Nothing left for attack, just the amulets and talismans keeping you safe. Do you feel safe?"

"Why are you doing this, Yelena?"

Yelena doesn't reply, only bends down, and starts untying her shoelaces, before taking her shoes off, and setting them at the edge of the stage. "Do you miss it?" she asks, before pushing herself onto her toes, resting into third position.

"Not as little as I would hope," Natasha says.

"Come up here," Yelena says. "Dance with me."

Natasha doesn't want to, but she pushes herself to her feet, and makes her way up to the stage.




Cherry plum trees.

"You did not need to use so much vervain."


"I'm not going to hurt you."