The silhouette of a man flees across the tops of buildings, making his escape.

"Wait!"

Natasha Romanoff knows it's her Winter Soldier. It has to be.

He finally turns around, his face masked by blue. His eyes are darker than usual, the soul inside them long gone. He clearly doesn't recognize her.

They stand there.

She's not sure what to do. As soon as she saw him, she intentionally ran after him by herself, and now no one is going to be with her as backup.

As if on instinct, he moves toward her.

The world around her falls silent.

Without warning, they start to fight. A knife appears out of nowhere and slices across Natasha's arm. She parries. The Winter Soldier kicks her in the leg, causing her to lose balance. She immediately gets up and dusts herself off. Natasha knows that she has a pair of pistols, but she also knows that he is her true love, and she doesn't want to hurt him that way. Instead she takes out a knife from her leg and aims one at him. And of course he catches it. Of course the top assassin in all of Russia would do that. She wouldn't expect any less.

She remembers when she first met the Winter Soldier. She had been a young impressionable woman whose allegiance was to the Motherland. There was nothing else. How could there be anything else in the dead of winter? There were the rumors of the terrifying Winter Soldier, who would strike down unsuspecting victims in the dead of night. But when Natasha met him for the first time, she saw him for who he was, and saw something else, something warm underneath all that cold. Even though the Russians were doing something terrible to keep him frozen, she did not care, because inside her lifeless heart, a single rose had burst through the snow.

He was ruthless, but so was she. He beat everyone down, but only she kept up their dance. Training as a ballet dancer certainly helped. Parry. Block. Kick. Jump. Slash. Dodge. If she would never speak to him with words, then she would speak to him through their dance, and reach deep into his darkness and pull out the light. And so, in a world so cold, a young girl unknowingly filled with hope revives the life inside a young boy by showing him the warmth of her fire, and eventually dares to dream, with him at her side.

Slowly and gradually, she shares her dreams with him. He resists at first, but cautiously opens up to her courage and then confidently takes her hand.

But at the time, Natasha and her Winter Soldier still needed to be careful. They could never show any emotion, not even when they had their fights, as couples in any relationship ultimately do.

Fingers interlaced in the dark, with a quick kiss in the corner, where no one would see. Perhaps more, if they had time. It was difficult for them to break away from their brief embraces, but it was necessary. The comfort of a physical touch was a treasure to cherish, not a luxury. When she was sick he would stand there, briefly, by the doorway to her room. When he was sad she would steal for him sweets from the kitchen and suffer the consequences. They could never have permanent gifts. They could only hide their life in the shadows.

Yet they always got separated, again and again. And finally, one day, he decided to let her go. He pushed her off and left her for dead, so that she could be free. So that she would never have to see him go through the torture again. Because their Motherland, it would always own them. The Winter Soldier knew of her dream that she had still clung onto every night, to explore the outside world without having to fight anymore. And he had always known that for her to have this, she needed to run far away from here. He would never be able to bask in the sun, but knowing that at least she would be able to, this was enough for him.

But he did not understand, she thought as she fell.

Without him, she would never be able to dream.

"I know who you are," she insists in the present, trying to get through to the Winter Soldier. No, she reminds herself, this is like their first dance. No words. Parry. Block. Kick. Jump. Slash. Dodge. Her knife pierces his skin. She wonders why she isn't dead by now. She's certainly in a lot of pain, she is bleeding everywhere, and she's sure she's going to have a lot of explaining to do by the time S.H.I.E.L.D. gets to her. But she's still alive. He could have killed her at any moment. Why? Is he trying to remember something?

For the Winter Soldier, this fight feels familiar to him, as if he's done this many times. Parry. Block. Kick. Jump. Slash. Dodge. Pieces of his memory are blank. He knows deep inside of him that there is something he needs to remember… No, something he wants to remember, and this person fighting him is the key to that memory. Huddling in the cold, something sweet. All he remembers is that he had wanted to hold onto something, and now he can't remember what it was he wanted to hold onto. He remembers a push. Did he do this, or did someone push him? A woman's last touch, a voice. "I will always find you." And a strange feeling of hope, like a fairy tale.

Fairy tales? Nothing in his world could possibly contain something so beautiful. He knocks the woman before him backward.

Now she's on her back. Vulnerable.

In a millisecond, he is on top of her, his knife pressed close to her neck. He is ready to kill.

There is a moment of pause and a flash of recognition. He retracts his knife and stares at her. This woman…is his missing dream? His princess? It's not possible… Besides, even if she did exist, a dream like her must remain untainted by something like him. It must remain pure. He can't bring himself to believe that he once lived a fairy tale, that he's still living it. He firmly believes that there are no happy endings. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and tries to push her away again. He makes his escape and leaps off the building.

But this time she doesn't fall, and she jumps off after him.

"I'll find you," she cries out, "I'll always find you!"

He hears those words.

And afterward, no matter where he is, he never forgets.