Heya!
Sorry bout the super long wait guys (remember when I said this would be out faster! Ha). But it's a super long chapter that's finally starting to get the plot going, so hopefully it was worth it :)
Thank you for sticking with it!
Chapter Three: With the Rising Sun
"My name is Natalia Romanova."
Natalia. So one of the illusive shadows has a name, and a common Russian one at that. Romanova, though… a part of Peggy's mind calls back to the last ruler of the Tsarist regime; the family that'd been brutally wiped out shortly after the Bolshevik revolution. They'd been the Romanovs. That's a useless bit of information though, Peggy scolds, surely nothing more than a coincidence.
"Natalia," giving introductions seemed like such an odd thing to be doing under such circumstances, "this is Dugan, and I'm-"
"I know who you are," Natalia's voice is a mere whisper, but it strikes Peggy mute. "Peggy Carter. You loved Captain America."
She throws out the words so casually, clear but carrying the slight lilt of an accent, and yet they hit with the force of bullet. Peggy sees Dugan bristle slightly at her side, obviously ready to jump to her defense- but defense against what? It is the words she never got to admit from the mouth of a random girl that has shocked her so severely? Or merely the feelings she associates with reminders of Steve's death?
"I did," she replies. What harm could the admission do, anyway?
"Leave it to the commies to keep track of everything in Cap's life," Dugan spits out. There's a fair amount of venom in his voice, and Peggy knows he's reacting to the mention of his friend; the man who'd once saved him from certain death in a German prisoner camp.
Natalia's striking eyes shift over to Dugan, but she shows no emotion towards the harsh words that'd been thrown at her. "They'd be a fool if they didn't."
The girl thinks logically, Peggy realises then. Or at least has been taught to. She doesn't see with an emotional response, but thinks in terms of strategy. Does that mean she thinks this a game, Peggy wonders, frowning; does she understand the consequences, the pain, that comes with taking a life? Or had the Russians conditioned that out of her too?
But they; she'd said they, not we. Was that a coincidence too? Or did Natalia see some sort of distinction between her and the communist regime that now ruled her country?
"Natalia," Peggy says again, bringing the girl's gaze back to her. She holds up the folder, the one Dugan had found by their camp. "What's this?"
Natalia blinks, looking somewhat surprised, as though the answer were obvious. "It's what you came here for: information on Leviathan."
Peggy knew as much from the symbol printed on so many of the pages, but all the same she gripped it tighter, knowing it could answer so many of her questions, confused as to why exactly she'd got it. "What do you know about it?"
"Little," the girl admits, shrugging, "It's a Russian organization, very old. We worked with them sometimes." She nods to the file in Peggy's hands, "those're the records of missions."
A name filters through Peggy's mind then, one that she'd seen repeated several times in clear Russian characters from the quick scan she'd given the file. Красная комната. "The Red Room," she translates.
An unidentifiable flash streaks through Natalia's eyes, an emotion that contorts her young features into something sinister and horrible. But it's gone in an instant, leaving her face impassive as she nods once in answer.
There's no need to ask what the Red Room does; the girl in front of her was evidence enough.
It was a sick sort of genius. After the years of war and bloodshed, the last thing the world wanted was another conflict, but the tension between Russia and America couldn't be ignored. Natalia was obviously the answer someone had come up with; a new type of soldier, fitted perfectly for a battlefield of secrets and lies; of dark corners and shadows. And who better for that game than a woman? Beautiful, deadly, and brainwashed since childhood. After all, doesn't Peggy herself know better than most just how a woman could be overlooked?
"Why are you telling us this?" Dugan growls out.
There's a pause then as Natalia shifts slightly on her feet. "Because you," she nods at Dugan, "would've thrown that bomb, back in that room, you would've killed us" she turns back to Peggy, "but you stopped him." Contrary to her words, there's no accusation in her voice, only a question, like she doesn't understand why Peggy didn't let her die.
Wasn't that lack of awareness horrifying in itself.
"Because you're a child," Peggy says.
She's not expecting the reaction that follows.
Natalia's eyes flash, her hands curling into fists at her side. Dugan and Peggy instantly raise their guns, ready to fire at any following hint of movement but the girl simply stands there, her body practically thrumming with an anger that sets her gaze alight. "I am not a child," she spits out, accent more prominent than ever and tainting her words thickly.
It's a classic image- a child insisting on being anything but- and yet there's more meaning; more pain and fury behind Natalia's words that gives a substantial amount of weight to her words.
Peggy frowns. "No," she insists, "despite whatever horrors you've seen, you are still a child. And children have a way of being very easily manipulated- no, don't try to argue," she snaps as Natalia opens her mouth, "I didn't let him kill you because above all else I believe you deserved mercy."
Natalia shifts slightly on her feet, and her gaze takes on something that seems to sear right through Peggy. "Dasha still died."
Dasha. Dasha. The girl with blonde hair, the one who'd killed Juniper and Li. It's funny how much difference knowing a name makes.
"Was she your friend?" Peggy asks.
Natalia shakes her head, twin braids gently slapping her face. "We didn't have friends."
With each new piece of information Natalia gives it becomes harder and harder for Peggy to maintain her guard. Dasha had been a trained killer, responsible for the deaths of two of Peggy's comrades, and yet she couldn't separate the girl's actions from whatever hell she'd been in. No doubt that was part of their illusion, Peggy reasoned; who wouldn't fall for the innocence of young girls with delicate features?
Dugan frowns. "There were at least twenty beds in that room. Where are the others?"
"Twenty-eight," Natalia corrects, "there were twenty-eight of us. They're all dead now."
In the silence that falls next, Dugan swears, shaking his head. Natalia watches him intently, almost curiously, and it's all Peggy can do not to snap at the girl to just do something; just act like she still possesses some semblance of innocence- was that simply too much to ask for from this Godforsaken country?
"The men," Peggy begins, then has to swallow past a dry mouth, "the guards, did any survive the fire?"
Natalia sneers; an ugly, horrible expression. "Those men were monsters and killers that deserved the very painful death that came to them."
Dugan seems to snap at this, "so what- exactly- makes you any different?"
At this the girl falters, all in an instant seeming to shrink in on herself until her eyes rake the floor. "Ничего." Nothing.
There's something so defeated in her tone that Peggy pauses.
Natalia looks back up and, switching back to her accent-lilted English, says quietly, "I don't expect you to believe me, but it's the truth. I have known nothing else outside of this life."
Peggy watches, considering the small figure of the girl in front of them. All that she's worked feverishly for over the past few weeks, risking her job and her freedom, has been to clear Howard's name. She hadn't expected it to be an easy job- not by a long shot- but she hadn't predicted the suitable labyrinth of lies and secrets that had her friend trapped.
How far would she go to save Howard?
That had been a question she'd been confronted with right at the start- and promptly ignored, because that was a line she didn't want to think about. Breaking the law was one thing, but the rapidly-forming idea in her mind now? That was insanity.
She knew it was.
And yet she was still considering it.
So maybe the real question Peggy should be asking herself is how much she's willing to sacrifice for her friend's freedom.
That question seems to jumpstart her brain, and suddenly the answers are all there- not quite straightforward, but certainly logical in her thinking. She already has one guaranteed source for Howard's case, so Peggy's first step is to safeguard that.
"Both prisoners died," she announces suddenly. Dugan stiffens suddenly at her side, but of course he knows her too well to shoot her a surprised look let alone remind her that one of the liberated prisoners is perfectly fine- a little shaken maybe, and anxious to get off Russian ground, but fine.
Natalia's reaction is everything she'd predicted.
Her small form stiffens even more than Peggy had thought possible, arms and legs shaking as her eyes widen. "No!" she shouts, chest heaving with panicked breaths, "no, you're lying!"
"She's not," Dugan says then, obviously catching on to what she was planning as his gruff voice revealed no signs of their lies. "The engineer was shot. The other one we lost in the fire on the way out."
"No," Natalia says again. Her eyes are glazed, unseeing, and Peggy guesses it's from the horror of knowing that the two people she'd presumably been responsible for are gone. God only knows what the Soviets would do for punishment.
It's a thought that Natalia seems to share, because all at once her face falls back into its expressionless mask. Her eyes though… her eyes take on this intensity that seems to pierce right through Peggy's soul, and suddenly it becomes frighteningly clear what the girl wants; why she'd come here in the first place:
"You thought we'd shoot you. You wanted to die."
Peggy vaguely registers Dugan's reaction to her statement, out of the corner of her eye sees him jerk away slightly, sees the way he glances down at the gun in his hands, but all the same it's like she's being crushed under the weight of Natalia's words.
"Please," the girl continues, "they'll kill me, you know they will, I'm not going back there, I won't, just kill me."
There's a wildness to her words now, and with her Russian-tainted accent and sharp eyes it's all too easy to see the sheer desperation that's now gripping the girl.
But Peggy won't give the Natalia what she wants. She won't. She can't.
"No."
Natalia stills, and it's eerie to look at. Because the maelstrom of emotions are still there in her eyes but her body just… stills…
And then the storm breaks.
In a blur of motion, the girl leaps forward, landing into a roll that places her just within distance to sweep out Dugan's legs from underneath him. Unbalanced, he stumbles slightly, lowering his gun giving Natalia the perfect opportunity to propel herself upwards, hooking a leg over his shoulder and using her weight to throw Dugan to the ground.
It's an impressive move, executed with a practiced perfection and obviously designed to be used against far larger opponents. Dugan's swearing, struggling in vain against the expert headlock she now has him in- gently though, carefully, because she's also pressing a small knife against the straining veins in his neck.
Instincts had Peggy react the instant Natalia had moved. But though the gun she's holding is aimed at the girl's head- a guaranteed kill shot- there was one very simple reason why she wouldn't pull the trigger.
Because it was oh so obvious that this girl, one who couldn't be older than twelve, wanted to die.
And God, what did that say about the world? Or, at least, the war-torn society they lived in?
(It said it was more fucked up than when Steve had died to save it, and that somehow made everything worse, because there was a voice there somewhere that whispered; taunting her with cruel words of the worthlessness of his death.)
And so Peggy looks down the barrel of her gun, lined up perfectly with the girl's forehead, and states in a voice as cool as steel, "I'm not going to shoot you."
Then she lowers her weapon.
Dugan growls, trying to buck his body upwards to dislodge the girl, but though her weight is miniscule in comparison to his own the movement achieves nothing. "Fucking hell, Peg," he grits out, "you better know what you're doing here."
What a lie that would be. This was the biggest gamble of her life; right here, looking into the green eyes of a little Russian girl.
"I'm not going to shoot you," Peggy repeats, ignoring Dugan's gruff words, "and you're not going to kill him."
Natalia hisses, pressing her knife into his neck with a dangerous pressure. "And why would I not do that?"
"Because we're going to find out what makes you different from them."
The girl sneers. "How exactly are you going to do that?"
"You're going to come back with us."
At those words, Natalia freezes. She loses her grip on Dugan, enough so that he manages to pull himself away. He staggers back a few paces and, still keeping a careful eye on the girl, warns quietly, "Peg…"
She quiets him quickly with a raised hand. "Your superiors are dead. No one else knows you survived the fire. I can get you to America without anyone being aware. Just tell me all you know about Leviathan- which I know is more than is in this file- and you can be free."
The girl shakes her head vehemently. "No, they'll find me." She offers no explanation as to who exactly 'they' are but, Peggy reasons with a dark sort of humor, it's entirely possible that it's because there's simply too many parties involved now; so many ways in which this could go wrong.
"How? There's no one left to."
Natalia frowns, her eyes dropping to the ground as she mutters, "they just will. They always do."
"So that means you've tried before?" Dugan catches.
"No," the girl replies sharply, jerking upwards once again to fix them with a harsh glare, "we never tried. Because we knew what would happen if we did. We were not stupid!" Even if Natalia's words hadn't convinced Peggy, the way she was biting off her sentences, the defensiveness; that would've done it.
And somewhere inside of her, Peggy's patience snaps.
"Alright," she spits out, striding forward a few paces so she's looking down at the girl, "I'm not going to beg. If you want out, you come with us. I spared your life, and I know you can help me, but not as much as I can help you. But you have to want it," she takes a moment to take note of the lightening sky- a surefire sign that this little meeting needs to wrap up soon before someone other than Sawyer wakes up, "there's risks involved- for us both- but this is the moment where you need to decide what you want. Your past doesn't define you if you chose not to let it."
There's a silence then, strung thin between them. It's hard to remember the seemingly impenetrable mask the girl had worn earlier when there's a thousand emotions all too evident in her eyes now. Disbelief and distrust, for sure, but- and Peggy truly hopes she's not desperately searching for something that's not there- something bright too. Something that shines with all the hope a child can have in the world.
"You saved my life. I owe you…" Natalia finally says, echoing back Peggy's words in a soft voice.
It startles Peggy, because that's not exactly what she'd hoped the girl would pick up from her. She doesn't want this girl to see it as simply as repaying a debt- God knows, the world didn't work that way, like a series of transactions- but, she supposed, it was something. It was cooperation.
"You do."
Natalia nods once, twice, hands clenching at her sides. Then she straightens. Her gaze lifts level with Peggy's and the myriad of emotions are once again gone, replaced with a steel that for the first time lets Peggy believe that this crazy plan of hers might- just might- pull off.
"Alright," the girl finally says, "I will help you. I will go back with you."
Peggy stares.
Right then. Alright.
She looks to Dugan, and though he hasn't voiced his thoughts, the downright disbelief with her decision is clear in his wide eyes. She ignores it.
She has to save Howard. She has to figure out what Leviathan is. They can only hope that this girl, and all the substantial risks she brings, are worth it.
"We need to find her a good hiding place."
It's only as they're preparing for departure that Dugan manages to catch her alone again, and his words are intense and determined; whispered pleadings in her ear.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Peg."
She looks up at Dugan, at one of her closest friends and one who'd been by her side through some of the worst things the world had seen. The doubt he's showing in her decisions, Peggy knows, is born only for a fierce desire to keep her safe, which is why instead of ripping into Dugan like she'd do for any other person, Peggy smiles softly. "Me too."
"What makes you think you can trust her?"
Looking over her shoulder to where the plane sits, dark metal glinting in the morning sunlight, Peggy watches. The other men were saying their goodbyes, completely oblivious to the girl hidden carefully inside. "Remain completely silent," she'd told Natalia, "completely silent. I won't be able to help you if the others discover you here." The young girl had nodded, what little of her face visible in the low light drawn in sharp lines and apprehension. Peggy had turned to leave then, but stopped short. "I'm trusting you here, but you have to trust me too; I'm not going to give you away."
And once again, the Natalia had nodded.
Now, Peggy looks up into Dugan's face. "I don't, but I have to believe she wants something different."
"Well," he sighs, shifting slightly on his feet, "I've learnt not to doubt you."
Peggy smirks. "The hard way."
"Don't I know it." He looks around then, making sure that the others aren't paying them any special attention. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped to a whisper. "Seriously though, Peg, watch yourself. Question everything. You know better than me that nothing is as it seems. Just…" he trails off, seemingly thinking intently, "that other girl… the kid didn't mention how she died, but she must know."
Peggy frowns, thinking back to the instant where the girl- Dasha, she now knew her as- had registered the bullet that'd struck her; the slight widening of her eyes, the collapse of her body. She'd been shot from behind, but with the amount of people that had been there it hardly narrowed don who'd fired the gun.
Peggy hadn't seen Natalia during that firefight, so maybe she'd been watching from the vents, in which case, with her hawk-like gaze, it was certain that she'd seen it unfold. Then again, she'd been one of the apparent few to actually escape the collapse, so what's to say she hadn't been safely outside the whole time? Maybe it was one of the things Peggy hoped distance would help Natalia to share.
Or maybe it would remain one of the secrets lost to the fire.
Either way, it's obvious Natalia has more information that she's letting on.
That's exactly what Peggy's counting on.
Dugan lets out a low breath through his teeth. "Just make sure you know who's got your back," he says, "Dunno what Cap would've done if something happened to his best girl."
Peggy smiles sadly, pulling her friend into a hug. "I'll be fine," she whispers into his ear.
It's a hollow promise, and they both know it. But that was all part of the game.
"Carter, hurry up," someone says from behind her. It's Thomson, his face set into a cool mask- a sharp contrast to the panic that had him frozen all those hours ago. They hadn't had the opportunity to talk about what she'd seen in the facility and ever since he'd kept their contact to a bare minimum.
She turns back to Dugan. He tips his hat, watching her with careful eyes.
"See you later, Peg."
Natalia had never been scared of the dark. For her, there was simply nothing to be afraid of. In the shadows, no one could see you hiding and no one could see your face. There was something that came with that anonymity, a sense that you could simply melt into the darkness and see the world around you but never to be touched.
It was freedom. Plain, simple and perfect.
Hidden in the darkness of one of the empty crates that were stacked precariously at the back of the plane, Natalia draws her knees to her chest, gripping them tightly and suppressing a shiver. She's never flown before, at least that she can remember, but the shuddering, jerking motion of the plane was oddly similar to that of the large convoys Natalia had been transported in often before.
And those were memories she did not remember fondly.
By her reckoning, two hours have passed since they'd lifted off the ground in Belarus. As they'd risen, the twin engines groaning horribly, Natalia had had the childish wish to press her face to one of the windows, to see the snow and trees disappear as they flew impossibly higher and higher. What would the world look like, she'd wondered, from this height? Untouchable?
The loud voices of the men had quickly died down, exhaustion obviously overweighing any desire to keep a conversation going, but Natalia was no fool. They'd still kill her in a heartbeat. Instantly. Without hesitation- but Natalia understood that. She was dangerous; her whole life she'd been groomed to be nothing less. She was deadly, she was a threat, and she was Russian.
Those elements together made whatever had made the British agent- "Peggy," Natalia whispers impossibly quietly into the darkness, surprised at how easily the name falls off her lips- doomed to fail; inexcusable, couldn't she see that? Bringing an unsanctioned person- a trained assassin, none the less- to America was suicide, punishable in the most severe of ways.
At least, it would be under the Soviet regime.
But America… Even the name itself sends a sense of foreboding down Natalia's spine, a chill she can't shake off, because it was what she had been drilled into thinking.
America: land of the oppressed, the source of all fear.
("Consider America, Natalia, consider a place so corrupt in its freedom that chaos and tyranny strike down any chance of its advancement. Consider a state where the very people are fractured, fighting among themselves like animals. That is the very opposite of our united nations. That is the true enemy.")
Natalia shuddered. The voice of one of a faceless instructor has haunted her since before she could remember, but she usually has enough presence of mind to at least ignore the whispered words taunting her actions. But it's almost as if her subconscious has suddenly realised the extent of Natalia's insubordination, and is now attacking her with every bit of information she had been trained to believe.
("We owe our lives to the preservation of the Bolshevik regime. Only in this servitude will we know happiness.")
No. No, that wasn't right. That was a lie, they always lied. The Red Room-
("You will not fail. You are made of marble")
("Kill them, Natalia. They're the enemy now; kill them all")
("Focus…")
Gasping slightly for air that catches in her throat- yet fully aware of the need to stay silent- Natalia curls into herself impossibly tighter. She doesn't know, has never known, where the distinction between truth and lies is, if there even is one to begin with. And there was a part of her that wondered if it mattered either way.
("Just focus…")
Maybe the world was black and white, or maybe it was coloured in shades of grey. But to her it would always be drowning in red.
Her blood, her friends', her victims; red, red, red.
So she repeats one of the few things Natalia knows to be true.
My name is Natalia Romanova. I have no place in the world.
I would really really appreciate it if you could please leave a review telling me what you're thinking bout this story so far. Seriously, it'd me amazing. But thank you regardless for reading. Hope to have the next chapter up soon-ish!
-F