Thank you so much for reading. I hope that the headaches of trying to finish this chapter were worth it!
Well, that took forever. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Writer's block had me in a choke-hold for awhile.
I'm writing from the viewpoint that Natasha is in her early stages of her career. She's still somewhat caring and curious. The Winter Soldier has not gone through as much torture and memory wiping as he had by the time Civil War happened. I like to think that if he could remember Steve's mother decades later. He would be able to remember so much more at this point and time.
I DON'T OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS. Thank goodness for Marvel, Marvin Goodman, and Stan Lee. I'm just using this platform as practice. Who knows maybe one day I'll have my own little universe. Thanks for the comments and favorites. I love you!
Happy Reading You Gorgeous Being!
-Flashback - Africa- The Widows First Mission
He turned the water on as hot as he could get it. The nozzle pushed all the way to red. The water slowly heated from cool to scalding. No matter the temperature he never seemed to get warm, there was always a bitter cold that weighed him. He showed no restraint when squeezing the gooey liquids of soap and shampoo out of the bottle creating a thick lather in his hair and over his body. He was careful to maneuver around the bandages. The wound was tender but no longer as painful. He tried to bring the visual of the boy, Steve, back to his mind. Nothing came. It was only in the presence of Natalia that his mind would flicker to something lost.
The hallucinations brought a sort of neutrality between him and the agony. He couldn't remember ever not hurting, not hating someone, anything. He couldn't remember ever wanting something, or having a real desire besides the ones his
handlers had planted. He liked the feelings the visions would bring on.
He wondered at the fact he was able to feel anything at all. He wanted more of it, which meant indirectly, he wanted more of her.
It wasn't a sexual animalistic wanting. He had felt that before, given into it even. The other hired guns he worked with usually celebrated their success with loose women in whatever town they happen to be in. A vulgar thing. A daze of unfeeling meaningless motions. A release of tension that immediately returned.
She was different. There was a peace with her, a sliver of kindness, curiosity, and hope that was gone in everyone else he'd encountered in that life.
The rush of the water and his contemplation drowned out the sound of Natalia being attacked.
He snapped to attention, at the sound of a scuffle, followed by a faint yelp when her air was cut off. The stolen sweatpants fit uncomfortably tight as he charged out of the room with a gun in hand.
Unfortunately, the doctor from the hospital hadn't taken a double shift after all. Natalia was caught in his choke hold with a needle aimed at her jugular. She had only a few moments before oxygen flow was completely cut off from her brain.
"Ahh, there is our other friend!" he exclaimed. The thick African accent boomed and ricocheted around the quiet room.
The soldier pointed his gun at the doctor's chest, calculating the course of the needle if the man dropped. The dead weight could still pierce a vital artery. He decided her best chance was if he let her go willingly.
"Why are you here? Who are you?" the doctor demanded.
"No one important," Soldat answered calmly.
"Oh, so this is a social visit then? I would've tidied up if I had known," he sneered.
" You weren't supposed to be here," Natalia explained with limited air. The tips of her toes were straining for ground.
"Who sent you?" the man growled. "Was it Darweshi?"
" No one sent us," the assassin answered as he watched the tip of the needle pierce skin. "We just needed a place to sleep."
" I've hidden so long, too long. Escaped and changed everything. Yet they still hunt me? With two Gorra Ou's at that."
The doctor had narrowly escaped a tribal army by assuming a new identity.
He had risen through the ranks as a ruthless child soldier, escaping by paying his way out, running, and changing his name. His only desire to make some sort of amends for his actions, taking years of struggle to receive an education. He lived with crippling paranoia. Now there were two dangerous strangers in his home, and he acted accordingly.
"Don't flatter yourself," the Soldat said carefully taking a slow step forward. " If we wanted you dead. You would be."
The man's grip loosened a fraction in contemplation.
"No! You only want me to release her," he argued, stepping back and tightening around her again.
Yes, more than anything that's what he wanted, but he couldn't let on.
Since he wouldn't be close enough to pull Natalia out of his hold and engaging wasn't an option he was reduced to use a reverse psychology of sorts.
He shrugged, " My job is done, and she has outlived her use."
He could read the surprise and betrayal in her face, but ignored it.
"What I don't need is to be mixed up in whatever ridiculous tribal fraction, you're involved in to make things messy. I have a flight to catch."
To his horror, she went limp.
Natalia's fingers only gave a slight twitch as warning, before she retrieved her knife and sliced at her captors hand.
He yelped in surprise, when his feet were kicked from under him. The young trainee delivered a sharp kick to his temple, successfully knocking him out.
It was possible that she had already been deleted from the program, and that this mission had been a last minute ruse to get rid of her for good. It didn't matter, she wouldn't die by means of an angry doctor who had snuck up on her. Even though she was on her own, she always had something up her sleeve, or, in her waistband for that matter.
The Winter Soldier felt a rush of relief and surprise as she flipped over the bed loaded her gun, and pointed back at him.
"You were going to kill me?" she hissed.
"Of course not I wanted him to let you go."
"You said I had outlived my usefulness."
She had believed his little charade, and it had hurt her. He dropped his gun.
"He was unstable, obvious military training. He could've stabbed you, even if I had shot him."
He had his hands raised in surrender. She didn't believe him, but the fact was clear. If he wanted to kill her, he would've. Yet there he was, weaponless.
Slowly her gun lowered.
"I'll tie him down in the basement, by the time he wakes up. We'll be gone"
"Or we can just dispose of him now."
"I'll take him to the basement," she repeated.
As far as she was concerned, there had been enough killing for one day.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he insisted when she returned.
"It's fine, you did what you had to," she said not meeting his eyes.
"I wouldn't have let him hurt you."
"Even if you had," she said grabbing the fallen equipment. " it would've been a failure on my part. I wasn't as vigilant as I should've been."
She motioned for him to sit on the bed. Her hands were cold as she peeled the dirty bandage from his side. She gingerly poked and prodded. Hearing about his quick healing and seeing were two different things. The incision was still oozing fluid and blood, but only the first layers of skin were clearly affected.
"That's amazing," she said with a tone full of awe. " How does it feel?"
"Fine," he answered more concerned with how her touch was affecting him than what the bullet had done.
She cleaned and sprayed with antiseptic, before carefully getting the i.v situated. His temperature and pulse were higher and faster than she liked but it was to be expected. She was very gentle, with a calm concentrated face to match.
His gaze never left it. He watched and he waited.
A particularly worried expression the widow gave, helped him blink the brown haired woman back into existence.
-"Oh James, honey. You've really gone and done it this time." she cooed placing a slab of cold meat on his bruised cheek.
Blonde hair and blue eyes peeked around her shoulder sheepishly.
"It was my fault ," the boy said." I'm sorry."
"I couldn't just let them pound 'em ma," his own pained voice explained.
" I told you I had them on the ropes! I had it handled."
"I know you did Stevie," he murmured.
The smell of turpentine filled the air around them, before a cloth sticky with it was dabbed on his bruises.
"Just like your father, he never could keep himself out of trouble," the kind lady tutted.
"What do you want me to do Ma? He's my best friend?"
"What I would like is for you two boys to stay out of scraps. Stop coming home black and blue and giving your ole' ma a heart attack. But since that's not happening anytime soon , you keep watching each other's backs," she instructed kissing both of them on the cheek.
"Till' the end of the line?" Steve asked, holding out his hand.
"Yeah, Pal the end of the line," he agreed clapping his palm into the smaller one. -
He closed his eyes and the memory was over. He was remembering his friend and now the brown haired woman was identified as his mother. The concept was baffling. He'd never given much thought to who he was or should be. Hydra had always been his identity. Normalcy was fiction. Now he realized there was something before, a time when he was happy. When he had people with gentle touches, people who cared whether he came home or not.
Were they still alive? Did he kill them?
Vowing to find that out , a ray of something akin to purpose blossomed inside of him, and it was all because of her.
"Does that feel okay?" she asked her voice bringing him to the present.
"Really good," he murmured with a voice full of emotion.
He was looking at her so intently, that she felt bare under his scrutiny. Wiping her hands against her thighs. She stood, using the suggestion of securing the perimeter an exit strategy.
The spell would be broken.
"Stay," he ordered forcefully at first before softening it to a plea. "Stay, please, just for a minute."
She sat down slowly, freezing as one hand of flesh and another of metal were placed on both sides of her face. He turned her this way and that, becoming entranced by doe eyed brown eyes melting into electric greens. A gorgeous kaleidoscope of color. He pulled her closer without realizing it.
"Soldat are you feeling well?" she questioned shakily.
"No," he said. "I never am. "
He no longer saw his mother, just her. Only her.
"Beautiful," he spoke the statement like a prayer.
And beautiful she was. A beauty so pure it brought back a beauty forgotten.
One hand dropped from her face the other curled just around the back of her neck, pulling her in. His gaze played on her lips only moments before his mouth found them. Soft gentle nothing rushed. She floated in suspended animation. Absolute stillness before coming alive under his grasp. She pressed the kiss back into him. Mouths triggered explosions by exploration. They stayed like that somewhere between seconds and forever. She had never kissed anyone, but his gentle brushes were skilled like a painter's against her. They broke apart at the same moment, out of air. A single tear spilled by a broken man fell onto her cheek.
"Something happened to me," he whispered.
Now she understood how dangerous caring was. The Redroom had taught her ruthlessness, cruelty, and vicious loyalty above any cost. However, at that moment she would disobey any order to help him. She would destroy anyone who had a hand in breaking him, no questions asked, even if it meant turning on everything she knew.
"I need to find them," he explained with an unfocused gaze.
"Who?" she asked cupping his face and wiping the tears away with the pad of her thumb.
"Them," he repeated as if she had seen the same things he did. He was speaking out of his head. She knew this and yet still asked what she could do to help. Doing so not as a subordinate but an ally.
"Stay," he answered simply.
She laid down beside him obediently. She placed her head and hand on his chest, he clung to her like a lifeline.
A few hours later, some lucidity returned to him, bringing the realization of failure as a companion.
"I know you'll have to report my malfunction," he muttered.
She looked at him, startled by the break in silence and the suggestion.
"My actions are unacceptable," he stated.
Kissing Natalia wouldn't be an issue, it's not like they valued her virtue. But the remembering, and the vulnerability would be punished with the utmost severity. He had defected on assignments before, forgetting where he was, or going blank on the entire mission itself. Just as dangerous were the random surges of confusion or guilt that would cause him to pause or hesitate. Waterboarding and shock therapy would be waiting for him.
"I'm not going to say anything," she assured, taking him by surprise.
He turned to look down at her.
She looked back confidently, with what he assumed, was childish arrogance.
"If they find out I malfunctioned, and you said nothing, you will be in danger."
"I'm always in danger, at least this is something I chose," she whispered.
The thought that she would put herself in harm's way, on his behalf especially, really upset him.
"Do you ever wish ..?" she began.
"No !" he interrupted. " I don't wish. If you're going to stay alive you can't wish. You can't dream. You can't want anything or anyone ! You think only of the mission, and of yourself. It's the only way. Now, tell me you understand."
The words cut, but she didn't let it show.
" I never doubted the program. Not once. But today...today I watched a man die because of me, and I felt everything. I was ripped apart. That feeling, that gaping hole in my chest that I've lost something. I understand that perfectly."
He looked off into the distance, his body almost feeling the electricity rip through his muscles and scramble his brain. Hiding everything that happened, was the only way to avoid the chair and keep her safe.
If she wouldn't tell, it would be up to him to keep it together.
The soldier. Calloused, aggressive, impassive. He'd have to find a way to return to that place. To that person.
" I said what I said. I will assure them that your first mission was successful. You'll earn your title. I'll leave and we'll forget that any of this ever happened," he said with finality.
She was sad, but deep down knew it was the only way. They couldn't just get up and leave to chase the phantoms of his shattered psyche.
" If that's what's best," she said quietly. " I'll secure the vicinity for the night. We have a long hike tomorrow."
She untangled herself from him, put on the shorts from before, and grabbed her weapon. The house was quiet, and the doctor was still unconscious. She slipped out into the night, noticing the warm African air had a sort of sweetness to it, just like the kiss. She tried to hold on to the sensation, so different from the freezing emptiness she was used to. It was over though, and what they had would have to be enough. She circled the home and all was quiet. Making her way back into the room, they shared a somewhat forlorn expression. The door shut.
"I can take the first watch," he offered trying to make amends, but she took it as a sign they were back to orders and subjection.
She nodded, laying on the opposite side of the bed and curling into herself.
The lights were turned out, and it was silent for a long time.
A soft "Natalia" came out of the quiet.
She turned on her side. He was reaching for her, drawing her in. Arms encircled her small frame protectively.
"I'm sorry things have to be this way," he whispered into strawberry red strands.
A long pause.
" Do you ever wish...?" she started finishing her question from earlier. ".. that someday things might be different? "
It was such a broad and outlandish thing to ask . Showing her age, and proving her ignorance of the horror that awaited her in that existence.
"No, and there is no point in it, " he answered pointedly.
" Be honest," she prodded, while idly tracing out the features of his face in the black.
" I am," he answered breathlessly as slender fingers outlined the curves of his mouth.
"Deep down, somewhere do you feel like maybe all of this is for nothing? That we're wrong?"
She was bordering treason with that question, but sunrise would bring so many ugly things that he decided to humor her with truth while the serenity lasted.
So, instead, he softly replied to her, to himself, and to the ghosts of his mother and friend, "Mолько всегда Natalia, только всегда."
Gorra Ou's - african slang for a vanilla colored person
только всегда- Only Always in Russian
Soldat- Soldier in Russian
A really crazy secret that I will only tell you guys on the basis of somewhat anonymity , is that I have never kissed anyone. Guys have tried more than once, but the whole concept kind of freaks me out. I've had wonderfully cuddly affectionate guy friends who make writing about that stuff easy, but this kiss, destroyed me in trying to do it justice.
I want it to be special to be worth it. I mean that's the story you'll hold onto forever. Someone's lips touching yours for the first time. What a waste if the person ends up being a tool, you know?
But, I'm young, I've got time right? (* nervous laughter). I'm going to stand by it's sacredness despite the weird look I just got from you. :P
If you have tests, presentations, promotions or just a tough week ahead of you, this is a sign you're going to absolutely CRUSH IT.
Bye For Now -