Full Summary:
They'd never even thought about it, her too conditioned to their doctrine, too afraid. And he, programmed to never even want freedom. But everything changes, and they run, though they weren't stupid enough to think that they could actually escape. They just needed enough time. She gave birth and he took the baby to a safe place, then they were captured, tortured, and wiped clean.
Natasha is determined to find her daughter, but she can't do that being who she is, she needed, needed to be better, someone worthy, someone she could stand to look in the mirror.
So she builds a new life for herself, and finds friends and love and family. She's finally at peace with herself, somewhat.
And then Yasha comes back.
Prologue
Disoriented, was her first feeling. There was a ringing in her ears, and at the same time, every sound was muffled. The hall she was walking through, it tilted, her vision swam. This wasn't right. She was cold, her feet were freezing, and looking down she noticed polished wood under her feet. Where am I? A long hall, with closed doors on each side. The walls were white, and for a moment she thought she was back at the Bolshoi, the mansion with beautiful, shiny floors and creamy walls that radiated warmth, doors and window frames in dark oak… it was very similar, she noticed, and she tried taking a step forward, but everything tilted again -or was it just her eyes playing tricks- and she had to lean against the wall to keep upright. She quickly noticed nothing was really moving, the floor was still, but everything was just out of focus, out of sorts, and there were voices, but the ringing, and the muffled feeling, it just wouldn't let her focus.
"FOCUS!"
She covered her ears, the loud scream breaking through the haze, and she turned around to look who was there, but there was no one, she was still alone.
She was dreaming, she realized quickly, with a start. I'm dreaming. But…
And she almost believed it for a second, almost relaxed, if it wasn't for the smell. Antiseptic, clinical, and she knew then, she knew, they were in her head.
She started hyperventilating, looking from left to right and seeing the exact same thing, just doors and more doors and she had to focus, there was something very important…
"FOCUS!"
There was the screaming again, and she now recognized it as her own voice, telling herself to focus. How long had they been at it? It must have been a while, because she couldn't remember what she needed to focus on. What was so important? Why was she fighting and disobeying? Following the rules always hurt less, literally. But no, focus, keep walking, please, don't forget, keep walking, keep fighting, 1018465195, keep walking, don't forget, focus.
Her head hurt so much, her legs were unsteady beneath her, she was so tired, but no, this was important, just please, move, don't forget. Forget what!?
She listened to the part of herself that seemed to still have some idea of what was happening and moved her legs, leaning heavily against the wall, sliding on it as her wobbly legs moved unsurely. And it was as if someone had beaten her over the head with the butt of a gun, that one single step. She cried out, her hands letting go of the wall and to hold her head, and she slid down the wall onto the floor. She gasped, trying to regulate her breathing and work through the pain, but oh, it was too much, too much. Everything was swimming, the sounds were muffled, and she knew it was because the doctors where talking, maybe to her, maybe to each other, but she was trapped in her own head and she could still hear them. She tried to ignore them, a sense of urgency making her heart beat faster. Move, move, please don't forget, fight. It was important, whatever it was, she had already forgotten, they must have been at it for far longer than she realized. But it was important, move, move.
She dragged herself, one hand in front of the other, then pulling her weight with all her might and a groan in pain. She passed one door, closed and she spared a glance at it, but no, that wasn't the one. She managed to get back on her feet at the second door, using the doorknob for leverage, putting all of her weight on it and worrying she might break it, inhaling and exhaling through gritted teeth and trying to push the pain to the back of her head. She'd been trained to do that since she could remember, but right now, it seemed to be the biggest challenge of her life. I have to make it. It was important. Where am I going? Just one more door.
It was difficult, she could feel them prodding inside her head, whispering in her ear, to relax, to let go, to relax, that the faster she cooperated, the sooner it would all end. She wanted to give in, she wanted to let go so the pain would stop, just so she could take a breath without moaning in pain. Just one more door. She whimpered when she finally took another step, and feared her legs wouldn't hold her as she trembled. She leaned against the wall again, and she wanted to stop, felt tears in her eyes her head hurt so much, a hammer to her skull every step she took, but no, please don't forget. Another step.
It was a door like all the others, no distinctive feature, just another plain oak door, and she opened it.
The pain disappeared. The voices stopped. Just a ringing in her ears now, and her vision cleared. 1018465195. Solca, June 26th 2009, 11:24pm, 5 lbs 2 oz, 15 inches.
She was standing in a dingy little motel room, dark and dirty, a carpet that was maybe 3 shades darker than its original color that felt moldy under her bare feet and she wanted to put some shoes on. She felt lost, and also, oddly, she felt home. She walked inside, the ringing intensifying, and she feared for a moment that the pain would come back, because the further into the room she walked the louder the ringing pressed against her ears, and she thought they might pop. But she was here now, she was here now, and that's what mattered.
She stood at the foot of the bed now, and noticed something on the bedside table. She walked over to it quickly and picked it up. It was a little book, about the size of her palm but thick. The ringing persisted, but she knew now, it just meant she was getting closer. She flipped through it and felt her lips form a smile without her permission, seeing little stories, accompanied by soft-colored images, little birds and little kids and clouds and blue skies and the sun, with stories that she realized she knew by heart, for some reason. Photographs spilled out of the pages onto the floor, and she bent down to pick them up and inspect them, but they were blank. No, they weren't, she could see blur of colors, but the images didn't come together to make anything coherent.
The ringing was louder now. She didn't have a lot of time. She put the book back down and looked around the room. Just a table that didn't look very stable and two chairs that weren't much better. The sheets and pillow covers on the bed looked new and clean though, and she could distinctly remember the softness of them against her flushed skin. She frowned, her hand going to her back and she instinctually leaned back against it, jutting her chest out, as if trying to relieve some phantom back pain. Her lips parted in confusion. Where am I? Her ears hurt now.
She walked around the room, and glanced at the full length mirror by the door, but did a double take and almost tripped on her own feet at the image staring back at her. It wasn't her standing there in her white medical scrubs, disoriented and looking for answers. No. It was her, standing with a bundle of blankets in her arms. She stared at the mirror, eyes wide and mouth agape. It was her, in black sweatpants and a shirt that was obviously not hers, a man's maybe, way too big for her, and what she could only imagine was a baby wrapped in white blankets in her arms.
She chanced a glance down at her physical self, almost afraid that she would still be just in her white scrubs and empty handed, so unbearably empty handed. But no, she looked down and there she was, her baby, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes, tiny and perfect, rosebud mouth and button nose and barely-there light blond hair.
Natasha felt her whole chest constrict, a flood of emotions rendering her speechless and she was breathless, couldn't get a breath in or out, could only look into her baby's eyes and just feel. Feel as everything else crumbled around them because nothing else mattered, and everything came into focus now, everything made sense, and don't forget 1018465195. Solca, June 26th 2009, 11:24pm, 5 lbs 2 oz, 15 inches
Ice filled her veins and she clenched her eyes shut and screamed out in pain.
They wake her up.
