A/N: Spoiler Alert! This was story was inspired by Captain America: Civil War.
Enjoy, and don't forget to review.
Many thanks to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta, and Black' Victor Cachat for brainstorming.
Namaste,
Sunny
"Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories."
~ Terry McKay, An Affair to Remember, 1957
Captain America
Civil War
I Still Believe
Warm Memories
The door to the stairwell for the residential wing opened slowly, and Cameron stuck his head out, ready to duck back inside at the least provocation. He breathed a sigh of relief that the hallway was empty. Stepping into the hall, he held the door so it wouldn't slam, and turned in the direction of his room.
As he came around the corner, he stumbled to a halt at seeing Hill sitting with her back against the wall and her eyes closed. Turning around, he quickly headed back the way he'd come, escaping into the stairs. He'd gotten as far as the next floor when the door above opened.
"Come back here, Klein!"
Cameron's natural inclination was to obey what sounded like an order. However, he no longer worked for her, and so he kept going. Hill's footsteps on the stairs encouraged him to move faster, and with his longer legs, he reached the lobby while she was still several floors up. He looked for some means of escape, and ran out the front door.
He'd nearly reached the market where he could lose himself in the crowd when Hill stepped in front of him. Startled, he stumbled back a step. She stood with her hands down at her sides, her chest heaving, apparently from running to catch up to him. The glare she leveled on him would've destroyed someone who hadn't built up a tolerance over the years.
Hill reached out, and Cameron proudly stood his ground, prepared for the punch he was certain to receive. His eyes widened in confusion when she grabbed his hand, and dragged him through the crowded market to the little café where they stopped on nearly every walk. The young woman who always waited on them rushed out with two iced chai teas, and a plate of ginger cookies.
Keeping his eyes on the tabletop, Cameron nibbled on a cookie, and chased it with a long drink of tea. He wiped his mouth, and wondered how he could get away.
After a while, he relaxed, and plucked another cookie from the plate. Quick as a snake, Hill grabbed his wrist, holding on until he let their eyes meet.
"Why are you avoiding me, Cam?" He tugged, but she refused to let go. "Are you embarrassed that we slept together?"
"No."
Her fingers opened, and he put that hand in his lap with the other one. "Regrets? Misgivings? Guilt?"
With each word, Cameron shook his head.
"Disappointment then."
Appalled that she would think he'd been dissatisfied with their time together, Cameron finally looked at her. "God, no. Not at all. It's just that…" How to word what he was feeling without causing hurt? "All the time Jane and I were together, I thought she was you. For a while, I thought I loved her, even though the little voice inside my head was telling me not to believe a word she said. And it turned out the voice was right. She was an imposter who only wanted information, leading me around by my hormones in hopes that I'd be so infatuated with her that anything she wanted, I'd happily give it to her.
"Then I find out that you were imprisoned for over two years, and I was sleeping with a KGB agent. We're exiled to Wakanda for God knows how long, and the real you and I… Well, it was mind-blowing. Uh, for me, at least."
One side of her mouth turned up in a grin. "Me too."
"After you went to your room, I got to thinking, and realized…" He looked away, unable to say the words. Hill lay her hand on the table face up, and Cameron placed his palm over hers
"That I'm over thirty, and you're the first man I've ever been intimate with." His eyes searched hers waiting for her to refute his conclusion, but all she did was smile and shrug sheepishly. "It's true."
"But how… Why…" Taking a deep breath to calm his stuttering, Cameron forged ahead, "…Really?"
She chuckled. "Yes. Really." Hill weaved their fingers together. "For me, sex is the ultimate show of trust because you're allowing the other person to see the real you, scars and all. No pretense. You're exposed, and vulnerable. You're literally letting another person inside you."
Honored, Cameron couldn't stop a delighted smile from lighting up his features. "Thank you. I won't let you down, Maria."
"I know." The server came out to check on them. As she turned away, Hill touched her on the arm. "Excuse me." She motioned between the two of them. "We're sleeping together."
The girl, who didn't speak English, stared in confusion, making Hill and Cameron laugh.
Main Post Office
The guard overseeing the transfer of mail sent internationally to Wakanda held tight to the lead of his partner, a black and white Aidi. The breed was used to sniff out bombs, drugs, and other illegal substances due to its hunting and scenting abilities.
Using a dolly, the driver moved a stack of boxes from the back of the truck to the loading dock.
Immediately, the dog pulled on the lead, and the guard followed. The dog sniffed all around the stack until he came to one that was approximately eighteen inches on each side. The guard called for the building to be evacuated, and the bomb squad activated.
The employees streamed out of the building, some even moving their cars, scooters, and bicycles to the minimum safe distance, and a short time later, several police and SWAT vehicles screeched to a stop in front and back.
Two men set up a robot, and sent it in through the open loading dock, watching its progress on the monitor. Down the right side of the screen were graphs indicating the chemicals detected. The woman at the computer shared puzzled looks when the analysis showed that the contents were not a bomb, or other weapon of mass destruction.
Wearing protective gear just in case, the older of the two men went inside, and came out a few minutes later with the box in a canister designed to contain the blast. It was taken to their lab, and placed inside a blast containment room. The tech conferred with his superior, and he in turn contacted King T'Challa.
Thirty minutes later, T'Challa arrived with Natasha and Steve in tow. The trio stood in front of the window that looked into the containment area.
"Who knows you're here, Nat?"
"Just Friday, but she's sworn to secrecy. She won't tell Stark." Taking a deep breath, Natasha let it out before speaking again. "This must be the package Friday said was sent to the compound from Kazakhstan. That's where I found Madame B., the matron at the Red Room, busily teaching a new crop of young people how to be spies."
The trio watched raptly as the tech carefully unsealed the box, bent the flaps out of the way and peered inside. His posture stiffened, and he took a half step back.
T'Challa addressed the intercom. "What is it?"
The tech reached in, and carefully lifted out a severed head. Natasha gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand, whispering, "Bozhe moi."
Steve touched her shoulder. "Nat?'
Natasha nodded, and turned to Steve and T'Challa. "It's her, Madame B. I've never known her real name." She turned her back to the window, leaning against the console. "We spoke not a week ago."
"You didn't…"
"No. Of course not. She was alive when I left." She snorted humorlessly. "Though you only have my word on that because I shut down the video feeds."
"Commander?" They faced the window again. The tech was holding an envelope sealed in plastic so they could see 'Natalia' written in neat handwriting on the front.
His superior shared a look with Natasha. At her nod, he told the man, "Open it."
The tech did as he was told holding up the note so all could see what it said.
Teper' my svobodny
Without being asked, Natasha translated, "Now we are free."
Vancouver
The Clancy Home
After Midnight
After a long day of applying for jobs, and looking into college courses he could take online, Taylor trudged up the stairs and into his bedroom. He took his pajamas from the middle drawer of the dresser, kicked his shoes off, and went down the hall to the bathroom for a quick shower.
Leaning one hand on the sink, he stared at his reflection, turning his head side to side. Perhaps if he shaved the beard companies would be more willing to hire him. Nah. If they don't like me as I am, I'll go somewhere else. Taking out his toothbrush, he squirted toothpaste on it, brushed, rinsed, and was finally ready for bed. He carried his dirty clothes down to the laundry room in the basement, sorting them according to color and fabric. Before going to his job interview, he'd wash clothes, and clean the downstairs.
Back in his room, Taylor lay face down on the bed with the pillow bunched under his chest. He closed his eyes, and sighed, falling asleep almost immediately.
His dreams were disjointed, erratic, like someone had broken several mirrors, and tried to put them back together without knowing which pieces went to what. He saw faces, and places that were unfamiliar.
He was ten years old, sitting at the dinner table across from a young girl the same age, with dark red ribbons in her hair. To his left and right sat a man and a woman, all with food in front of them, talking about their day, and their plans for the coming weekend.
The whistle-boom of shelling disturbed their usually quiet family time, shaking the building. Dust and bits of plaster fell on them as the man herded the woman and children into the most protected room in the apartment: the bathroom.
When the man didn't come back right away, the woman put the girl and boy in the tub, and covered them with a blanket. But the girl was scared, so they went looking for the adults. Holding her hand, they crept into the front room, and jumped back, screaming when another shell hit.
The children watched in horror as the floor opened up, and the adults fell. Keeping the girl behind him, the boy peeked over the side, but all he could see was rubble, and what might have been the man's legs sticking out from under a slab of concrete that had once been their dining room floor.
There was a shrieking whistle, and the boy pushed the girl ahead of him into the bedroom. They crawled under the bed, huddled together crying as another shell hit. It landed just a few feet from them, but didn't explode.
Taylor jerked awake, and the dream ended. While he couldn't remember all the details, the fear lingered. Sitting up on the side of the bed, he dropped his head into his hands, and rubbed the temples to ease a headache. When that didn't work, he padded to the bathroom, poured two pain relievers into his palm, and swallowed them with water.
On his way back to bed, dizziness came over Taylor. He leaned a hand on the wall until the world stopped spinning, and returned to his room. Lying down again, this time on his back, he watched the shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling. This wasn't the first time he'd dealt with dizzy spells and headaches. Both had been getting steadily worse in the weeks since they'd arrived in Vancouver, but he hadn't said anything to Julia and Adam because he didn't want to worry them.
There were other strange things happening to him that he also kept to himself. If any of the Clancy's had noticed, they hadn't said. Ryan would've asked questions, and Quinn would go to Julia with her concerns. He grinned. Quinn was a drama queen, meaning that expressing worry amounted to the girl running through the house shouting at the top of her lungs, "Mom! Mom! Come quick! Somethin's wrong with Taylor! Mo-o-o-o-om!"
Taylor's humor turned to curiosity and disgust when he caught the scent of burning tar. While it wasn't impossible, given the time of night, it was highly unlikely that anyone would be tarring their roof.
He glanced at the clock, puzzled. When he came back to bed after getting the pain pills, it had been just after two in the morning. Now it was closer to three, though he was certain he'd only been lying here for a few minutes. Probably read the time wrong, he thought, dismissing the event.
Pulling the covers up to his neck, Taylor rolled onto his side, tucked one hand under his pillow, and closed his eyes.
In the Morning
Holding the front door open, Taylor handed each member of the family a thermal lunch bag, accepted a kiss from Julia, and a hug from Quinn. Adam gave him a smile, and Ryan snatched the bag, and ran to get in the back seat of his dad's SUV, calling out, "Don't forget it's video game night, Tay!"
"I won't, Ry! You're goin' down, my man! Down!"
Adam put an end to the banter by starting the engine, and backed out of the driveway.
Taylor closed the front door, and went to the stereo. He chose the most recent CD for his favorite band, Ambiguous, dropped it in the player, and turned it up loud enough to be heard all over the house.
Snapping his fingers to the beat, he made a mental list of the chores to get done before changing, and going to his job interview. Singing along, he ran down to the basement to start the washer. While that was going, he cleaned the kitchen, and the living room. After moving the clothes to the dryer, and starting the next load, he dusted and watered all the plants.
By the time Taylor finished all the laundry, put the clean clothes on the beds in his family's rooms, and had lunch, the CD had ended. He turned off the stereo, and went to get ready for the job interview he had lined up.
Standing in the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, Taylor wiped moisture from the mirror. Turning his head, he examined his hair. This time, he'd used a different brand of hair color that seemed to have more staying power. He used a comb to tame the unruly mop, adding a small amount of gel to keep it out of his face.
With a sigh, he took out the electric razor to trim his beard, and neaten around the edges. Something he had to do every day because it grew so fast. Same with his hair. After several weeks of trimming it every Saturday night, he switched to once a month. This was week three. Next week would be soon enough.
In his room, Taylor changed into the suit Adam had helped him buy, tied the tie, and shoved his phone into his inside pocket with his wallet. He stopped to give his look another onceover in the mirror by the front door, nodding with satisfaction.
The grandfather clock struck twelve forty-five, and his appointment was for one. According to the online mapping site, the address was a forty-minute drive away. Taylor grinned to himself. Plenty of time.
He made a quick check that all the windows and doors were locked, and left by the back door. In the alley, he glanced around to make sure he wasn't being watched, and took off, arriving at his appointment with ten minutes to spare.
Taylor did one more hair check using his reflection in the window, tugged his cuffs into place, and went inside. He smiled at the receptionist. "Taylor Clancy. I have a one o'clock appointment with Ms. Wentworth."
The young man nodded. "Have a seat. She'll be out in a few minutes."
Two hours later, he was the proud new fulfillment/stocking employee for the local Virtuosity fulfillment office. Virtuosity was the largest Internet-based retailer in the world, and he'd gotten the job by offering to show them what he could do. Taking off his jacket and tie, Taylor rolled up his sleeves, and hit the ground running. His speed in getting packages ready for shipment so impressed the manager that he was hired on the spot. On Monday, he would be sent to the lab for his drug test. Easy-peasy.
He spent the rest of the afternoon filling out virtual paperwork, being introduced to the staff, and training on the software the company used to keep track of its world-wide shipping. Some expressed surprise at hearing his accent, but said nothing.
Ryan and Quinn were just being dropped off by the carpool when he returned to the house. Quinn rushed to give him a hug, and he responded by kissing her on the head through the hat she wore to cover her mostly bald head. "How as school today, sestrenka?"
"It was okay. I went on the merry-go-round for the first time since before I was sick." Keeping an arm around her shoulders, they went inside. "Tay, why do you call me sest… sets…"
"Sestrenka."
"Yeah."
Taylor helped her off with her Hello, Kitty backpack, and jacket. He handed the bag to Quinn, and hung the jacket in the hall closet. "It means 'little sister' in my language."
"I thought you didn't remember nothin'."
"Anything," he corrected automatically. "I do remember some things like speaking, languages, how to take care of myself, things like that. Just not who I am, or where I'm from."
Taking the backpack, Taylor walked with Quinn to the dining room table where she liked to do her homework, and set it on a chair. The girl leaned on the back of the chair, looking up at him with serious brown eyes. "You're not from Bucharest?"
The conversation made Taylor uncomfortable, but he didn't want to discourage Quinn's curiosity. "The psychologist at the hospital had a linguist come in to hear me speak the languages in which I'm fluent. He wasn't certain of my country of birth, only that I was most likely from Eastern Europe. The area near the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Hungary."
"You're gonna be okay, right?"
Squatting down so that he was eye to eye with Quinn, he touched her on the shoulder. "Of course I am, lyubimaya. And I promise you this: Even if I remember who I am, I will never, ever forget you, Ryan, or your mom and dad. You took me in when I had nowhere to go, and all of you treat me as if I'm family. We share a bond that will never be broken."
"Good." Quinn threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. "I love you, Tay."
He held her close. "Love you too, Quinn."
Wakanda
The Cryolab
The lift doors opened, and Natasha shot between them, rushing into the lab, stopping in front of Bucky's cryotube.
Steve followed at a more leisurely pace, watching her curiously as she stared at Bucky and Wanda. He took up a position behind and to one side, hands shoved in his pockets. Every few seconds, the side-by-side vital signs display would blip, rising until just short of the level that would trigger the alarms, and return to normal.
Kaya came to stand next to Steve, a concerned frown on her pretty face. She leaned close to whisper, "Wanda has been in this state for several hours. For the most part, her vital signs are normal. If she doesn't come out soon, I'll have to take the initiative again."
"I'm sure she'll understand." Steve would've said more. However, he was interrupted by Natasha suddenly pushing between them, and striding away. The look on her face, her unreadable mask, told him something was wrong. He muttered a distracted "Excuse me", and followed his friend out of the clinic, finding her pacing angrily in the hall. When he appeared, she grabbed his hand, dragged him to the residential wing, and into her room, slamming the door.
Natasha crossed her arms, and nodded for him to have a seat. He sat on the end of the bed, hands clasped loosely between his knees, waiting for her to begin.
"I have something to tell you, Steve."
"In English this time, I hope."
She shot him a glare, but it didn't have any real power behind it. "Don't interrupt."
Steve held his hands up indicating he accepted her terms.
"Remember me telling you about the ballet company?"
"When you married Alexei, yes."
Facing away from him, Natasha stared at the blank wall as if she were gazing out the window, or into the past. She opened the bottom dresser drawer, took out a wooden box, and handed it to him. "Open it."
Steve did so, and found a wooden ring box, and a stack of envelopes that looked old, and well worn. "Are these from Alexei?"
"Yes. And no." Natasha took out one envelope, withdrew the contents, three sheets of matching stationery, and held them out. "Have a look."
Reluctant to read her personal mail, Steve shook his head. "Nat, I don't think…"
She pushed the pages at him harder. "Look at it!"
He set the box aside, and unfolded the pages. All three were blank. She plucked the smaller box out, and showed him the ring. It didn't look anything like the one she'd described getting on her wedding day. Even Steve could tell it was fake, and not worth much.
"Even after I got word that Alexei had died, I would wear my wedding ring to bed at night, and remove it each morning before going downstairs for training." Her left thumb rubbed at her bare ring finger, her expression and voice softening with nostalgia, and affection. "It made me feel close to Alexei. Reminded me that there was another life outside the Red Room, and if I wanted it bad enough, I could have it. All I had to do was," one shoulder shrugged, "leave."
The lid of the ring box snapped shut. Natasha placed it back in the bigger box, took the letter from him, and dropped it inside as well. She closed the lid, returned the box to the drawer, and pushed it closed. "It was a lie, Steve. All of it. My ballet career, my marriage. Everything."
"I don't get it."
"Neither did I until Madame explained." Crossing her arms again, Natasha stood by the door, looking at the floor. "I was never a ballet star, and Alexei and I were never married. Alexei doesn't even exist. At least not the way I remember him. Those memories were implanted to hide the truth of my absence from the Red Room for over a year."
Steve waited her out as she bit her lower lip nervously. What had someone like Natasha, the most supremely confident woman he'd met since coming out of the ice, to be apprehensive about?
"It's coming back to me in bits and pieces. It also explains some of the dreams I've had over the years." She finally looked him in the eye. "Five months after I turned fourteen, I was taken to America, and placed in a facility."
"What sort of facility? Not a psych ward."
Her snort had a small element of humor in it. "No. My condition was temporary. On December thirtieth, five weeks after I turned fifteen…" she sat at the small table, crossed her ankles, and folded her hands together in her lap, "…I gave birth."
TBC
The Aidi is a Moroccan dog breed used as a livestock guardian, protecting herds of sheep and goats. It also possesses hunting capabilities and good scenting ability.
Teper' my svobodny = Now we are free
Sestrenka = Little sister
Lyubimaya = Sweetheart
