A/N: Thanks for reviewing/favoriting/following! I'll post tomorrow's chapter early in the day, since it will be appropriate for Valentine's Day :)

10. In your eyes, I can see it still

Anita Drakova is a pleasant child, very sweet. Natalia reminds herself that they are the same age, but she feels so much older. It is easy to be nice to her, to earn her trust. They attend classes together, and Natalia can't help but enjoy the learning, even if she will only be here a few weeks. There are two body guards in each of Anita's classes; not always the same two. Six total, she counts. They are young, like her, and blend in well with their peers. Most of their peers lack their focus, however, so they are not difficult to spot. Of course, it takes one to know one, and she will have to be careful not to reveal herself.

She makes up stories of her childhood, of her life before coming here, and Anita laughs and is delighted to talk to her. The girl is not used to being an authority on anything, so Natalia asks her a lot of questions about their studies, which Anita loves. There are other girls around, but she slips into their social group easily and soon spends time with Anita on her own. It is an easy assignment so far, and she waits patiently to be invited home with her new friend.

It takes a little longer than expected, but finally Anita goes home for a week and she manages to be taken along. The house is huge, and richer even than the fancy hotel she was in a few months ago. She struggles not to seem in awe of the whole place. Anita's parents are kind and welcoming, and the reality of what she was sent to do starts to settle uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. But she is a Black Widow, one of the best spies in the world, and she will not let silly qualms affect her performance.

Still, she delays. She makes up excuses and doesn't act when the window is perfect. The stress builds and she begins to doubt herself. Perhaps she should just escape, say things went south, say her cover was made, and go back to the Red Room. Back to safety. But to admit she failed would be painful. What would she do then? She'd no longer be the best, and would have to accept that. Accept being expelled from the program, and then what?

That isn't an option. So she forces herself to try. There are more bodyguards here then she can really count, but she is sure of a dozen. They come and go frequently in the short time period, as though making sure she doesn't get a good tally. She will have to kill Anita, preferably with her father looking on, and deliver the message. It sounded so simple during the briefing, but now she is realizing how complicated these kinds of things are going to be. No wonder the Soldier has been training them so hard.

On the sixth evening of her visit, after struggling with indecision the whole night before and most of the day, she decides she can't put it off another night. She will have to act. The family is at dinner, to which she was invited, unlike the guards and servants of the house. They dine in a pleasant little room, which fortunately has locking doors and is near the edge of the house. During summer, its balcony doors are opened and they likely eat on the terrace, but now it is closed up tightly. She makes sure she is the last to enter the room, and discretely locks it behind her. It's not a perfect plan, but should work. After she does what she was sent here to do, she can escape via the outside doors before getting caught. If she's quiet, she might be off the grounds before her actions are noticed.

"Well, Nadine, I must say it's been very pleasant to have you here," Anita's mother says, smiling at her. The father – the traitor – nods, smiling as well.

"Anita has greatly enjoyed your company. I hope you will always feel welcome in our house," Drakov tells her.

She forces a delighted smile onto her face and ignores the nausea that is building in her throat. "Thank you, sir," she says sincerely.

"Our little Anita has always wanted a sister, and she tells us you have no family," the wife of the traitor continues.

Natalia glances a little sharply at Anita, who is blushing and staring at her plate. "That's true," she admits, watching her mark carefully.

"Well, I know you're a little old for adoption, but we think you would make a great addition to our family, if you'd be interested. I know what it's like to feel alone," the woman says sympathetically.

Something inside her breaks and all she can do is nod and try to get her eyes to focus. Is she alone? She has the other Widows, but nothing like this. She could be a normal student, a normal girl, if she stayed here. If you stayed here, some part of her brain repeats incredulously. With these people who have betrayed your country? Just throw away everything you've worked for? Natalia Romanova is no weakling – she is the best there is. Think of how disappointed everyone would be – how disappointed the Soldier would be.

She is aware of someone asking if she is alright, but she does not listen to the words. Instead, she uses the knife on the table next to her to finish her mission as quickly as possible.

It's not until a while later that she comes back into herself, and sees what she's done. They're all dead, and not neatly. Not quickly. She feels ill, but is grateful to not remember exactly what happened over dinner. The job's done, maybe not according to plan, but there's certainly no reason to linger here. Someone will come looking for the owners of the house eventually, and it's not as though she can explain away her presence here. Not in her state of mind, anyway.

Trembling, she gets to her feet and unlatches the balcony doors. They're securely fastened and it takes her a few tries before she can get through. The delay makes her breath grow rapid and uncomfortable, and her fingers shake as she tries again. Finally, it opens and she slips outside. The evening is cold and she laments her lack of foresight in bringing a jacket, but the chill manages to clear her head a little. Carefully, she swings one leg over the railing, then the other. The ground is still ten feet away, but there is no other option than to jump. She rolls, lessening the impact, but her leg and arm sting when she climbs clumsily to her feet.

Pressing herself against the building, she makes her way slowly through the purple twilight toward the front gates. She will have to leave the relative cover of the house itself to cross the front lawn, but she will deal with that when she has to. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other. This isn't her first mission, far from it, but she hasn't had to get this close to a mark before. It's unsettling, and perhaps she spent too long outside of the familiar. She was starting to go native, maybe. It's something she will have to be careful to avoid on her next undercover mission.

Finally, there is no choice but to cross the open space to the gate. She could follow the road, claim to have some excuse to leave, but the idea is repellant. So she lets out some pent-up energy by running the distance. After looking and listening hard for any witnesses, of course. There isn't a sound as she reaches her goal, and she pauses to catch her breath before slipping through the space. Immeasurable relief fills her as she begins to walk down the street; safe at last.

Suddenly, arms wrap around her from behind, one around her waist and one covers her mouth. Her training kicks in and she immediately strikes back, though it has little effect besides making her captor grunt when she makes contact. Then his grip becomes vice-like, pinning her arms to her sides, and he pulls her back behind a stand of trees.

"It's me," he hisses in her ear and she goes still. What is the Soldier doing here? Did they think she would fail and need rescuing? Before she can respond, despite her mouth being covered, a car turns into the driveway and crosses over the space she was just occupying. She would certainly have been seen, so she supposes she owes him her life. When the vehicle has passed and the gate has closed behind it, he releases her and steps out of arms-reach.

"Thank you," she whispers, a little hoarsely, surprised by the need to regain her balance.

He is dressed in civilian clothes, watching her carefully. It's strange to see him out in the world. His arm is hidden and he could be anyone, she thinks irrelevantly. "You okay?" he asks, anxiously.

The phrasing is strange and she isn't sure what he's really asking. "Fine," she replies tentatively.

He nods slowly, then looks up and down the road. "Do you… Is the mission complete?"

"It is."

He nods again, a perplexed look on his face. "Good. Let's get out of here, then."

"Good idea," she murmurs, and falls into step behind him when he starts up the hill to the left of the house. She feels utterly spent and struggles to keep up, but doesn't say anything. At some point, he must notice her falling behind, because he slows down. Then stops. When she reaches him, he walks beside her. She hopes he's not staring at her again. She doesn't want to let him, or anyone, down. Perhaps that's why she was so thrown by this mission.

After a few hundred yards, they reach a car hidden behind some trees. It is a densely wooded area, and there is no path up to its location. She wonders vaguely how he got it there. Then she climbs in the passenger seat while he gets in the driver's and starts the engine. When they don't immediately start moving, she looks up and is startled by the intensity of his gaze.

He cocks his head at her when their eyes meet, and he clears his throat. "I don't think I should take you back in this state," he says. His tone is firm, but lifts ever so slightly in question at the end.

A shiver runs through her as she contemplates the connotations of that statement. "I'll be fine," she insists coldly.

The ghost of a smile crosses his lips as he reaches over with his right hand to cup her cheek. "I didn't mean I was going to kill you and leave you in a ditch. I meant we should find a place to lay low tonight, and maybe tomorrow you'll feel up to a debriefing," he explains gently.

A different kind of shiver runs through her at that, and she gives him a real smile. "Thank you," she says sincerely.

He leans forward to brush a kiss across her lips before turning his focus to driving. She settles back into her seat and contemplates the novel emotions circling through her.