Blue

Blue has always been her favorite color. Wishful thinkers may think his eyes inspired her love for the color, but that is simply untrue.

Natasha fell in love with blue when she was a young girl, looked away with blood and ballet. On the missions she'd finally get a taste of life outside the Red Room. She'd look up, and she'd see the sky, something she didn't get to see very often. So she associates blue with freedom.

Blue isn't always freedom for her. Once, on a mission, she gets shot. And she falls into the crashing blue waves. The blue tugs and her, and suffocates her. It's still her favorite color. Shot and surrounded by blue waves—she's helpless. There's nothing she can do. That's a rare thing for her. She has no control when she's surrounded by all the blue, and she loves it even though it's deadly.

She doesn't die, of course. She gains enough control. But still.

She associates blue with freedom and helplessness.

Later, he takes her in. They put her in a room. He explains the situation. He has blue eyes. She's not sure who he is, and she doesn't trust him, but— he didn't kill her. And that means something.

He becomes her partner, friend, world.

She associates blue with freedom and helplessness and him.

Author's note: I really love writing Colors, even more than Senses. I wrote Senses in a time crunch, and in specified word count chunks. This I can write when I want, and as short or as long as I want, and I love it. God, I love Clintasha so much. Writing Clintasha is my favorite.