The soft mechanical whir of machines beeping and humming was the sound she had woken up to three times. Short lived bursts of awareness before she fell back under. The fourth time she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling.

"Natasha." Madame's voice came softly. The woman's hand brushed across her cheek.

Natasha sat up, "Did I miss training? Madame I'm…" She looked around at the empty medical wing. A doctor approaching quickly.

"No dear." Madame took a chart from the doctor and dismissed him. The older woman scanned the document and then set it aside. "You've been unconscious for five days. A combination of exhaustion and trauma has put you here."

Five days… Natasha grimaced and couldn't recall that. The harder she thought then flashes of colorfully taped dummies, blood, and a resounding gunshot filled her mind.

"My tests… Did I pass?" She turned toward Madame. She lifted the side of the shirt she had on, where she remembered being shot. A small pink scar was barely noticeable. She ran her thumb over it. "I was..."

Madame shushed her and made her lay back. "My dear you did brilliantly. A perfect score on your written tests."

Natasha nodded, her brain seeming to be sluggish. "The other test."

Madame nodded, "There was no other test."

Natasha breathed quickly, "Madame… What do you mean?"

The woman looked at Natasha quizzically. "There are people who do not like what we do here, Natasha. Your interview went in an unexpected direction. The doctor has been loyal to us for years. You protected us. Your quick thinking and courage protected the programs here and many people."

Natasha ducked her head. Her training had led her to do the right thing. Her suspicion and inability to feed into his game had deescalated the situation. She won. That in itself made her proud.

"Normally a girl who completed the tests and interview is given a trial mission. Escorted with a winter soldier for precaution. We feel your actions in the interview do no call for a trial mission." Madame explained.

Natasha frowned, "Madame.. I'd like to do the mission."

"My brave Natasha, I knew you would." Madame smiled and handed Natasha a file. "This mission was selected for you. The Russian ballet is a front for human trafficking. Tonight the head of the organization is procuring new children. He selects girls from the ballet. You'll be undercover as one of the children. The soldier accompanying you has already been infiltrating as a member of the organization. He will see to it that you are selected, Natasha. You will wait until the man in charge comes to see you. He always spends time with the new ones. Once you are alone with him. You will quietly kill him. The soldier will be taking care of the next in command. You have an hour to prepare. The soldier will come get you from your room."

Natasha nodded carefully as Madame spoke. The file was heavy in her hands as she skimmed the details of it.

"I have a room?" Natasha asked.

"You have pasted your exams. Success in the mission puts you one step closer to your graduation. There are details to discuss later, but you have earned your own room. You are no longer a trainee, you've proved yourself Natasha. We will talk later after your mission."

Natasha blinked a few times as Madame stood up. "6thfloor. Room 3. Rooms for my successful graduates who no longer need to be grouped with the children. You have more control over yourself now Natasha. Mishandle that control, and mistake it for freedom and it can be taken away."

"Yes, Madame." Natasha said quietly.

"Hurry along now." Madame said as she left.

In minutes Natasha dressed in her old clothes. And left the Medical wing. At the staircases she headed up to the 6thfloor. She had never been higher than the 2ndfloor for her training. She had visited the 4thfloor only once with James.

She found the 3rdroom and lifted her hand to the handle. No locks. Of course. While she was rewarded with this room she still had no privacy. Madame was right to tell her to not mistake this control with freedom. She pushed the door open and smiled as her eyes fell on the simple bed and James lounging on it.

She snapped the door shut and pressed her back against the door. "What if I was Madame or the commander?" She put her hand on her hip.

"Then I guess I'd be in a lot of trouble." He smirked and stuck his hands under his head.

She rolled her eyes, "Recklessness doesn't suit you." She wandered towards her window and spotted the ladder she had climbed a few days ago. She had a dresser, closet, and a desk. The dresser was filled with the clothes she had and then new things. A closet held a ballet outfit she hadn't seen before. Probably for the mission in an hour. Beside the closet was another door that led to a quaint private bathroom with a simple shower, toilet and sink.

The mission she remembered, and dropped the file onto her desk. As she passed by her bed James caught her hand. So much had happened since the night she spent with him. She had almost died twice. He watched her take her exams. He saw her teachers break her down.

"Tasha, come here." He tugged her onto the bed.

She tucked her legs under herself and looked down at him. Her hands rested on his chest. She toyed with the buttons and pockets on his uniform shirt. Silence pounding around them. She could feel his eyes on her. His hand skimming up and down the outside of her thigh.

"Look at me." He whispered.

Natasha didn't know why she suddenly didn't want to. 5 days ago they had whispered their feelings to each other. Now she was going on a mission. She was inches from graduating. She knew how she felt about him but she worried she never should have said it the other day. He said it back and now this felt awkward. It felt wrong.

She lifted her eyes to his and studied his face. The strong jaw, a slight shading of hair having grown from his morning shave. Her fingers brushed over the stubble and then his soft bottom lip.

His jaw clenched, "Are you okay?"

She huffed quickly, "What do you mean? Why wouldn't I be?" She looked away.

She had been swallowing the effects of her testing. Forcing them away. Truth was, realizing her breaking points didn't make her feel stronger. She felt weaker.

"You died in my arms on the way to medical. Your heart stopped. Did they tell you that?" He tipped her chin back toward him. Noticing the way tears welled in her eyes yet she furiously blinked them away. "I know first-hand what you're feeling."

Natasha breathed shallowly, "I'm not feeling anything." She looked down at him, her eyes void of emotion.

James held on to her tightly. "Natasha stop acting."

She flinched at the outburst, "Then tell me how to feel and I'll act that!" She felt the fear bubble up in her throat. The lump that had settled there since the end of her first test. She couldn't name the emotion.

James rolled her onto the mattress, trapping her under him so he could look her in the face. Her words didn't match the way she acted. Her hand hadn't stopped touching him. She wasn't truly angry. She was lost. Her teachers had suppressed every emotion she ever felt. When the real ones came around she struggled to manage them.

He breathed softly, "You are allowed to feel. You know that right? You died, Natasha. You were brought back and that is something hard to deal with. You were broken down, attacked, and tested in ways no one should ever have to. You don't have to be okay with what's happened to you. I don't care how strong you pretend to be, you'd be stronger if you dealt with the feelings. I know you. You're scared of what comes next. You can't push me away and expect to feel better for it." He watched her lip tremble almost imperceptibly.

Natasha felt a tear leak from her eye. Her breaths coming sharp and ragged. "I don't know how to feel… All I know is that I'm afraid." She whispered.

James didn't hesitate to comfort her. She tucked her head against his neck and he rested his full weight against her. Her sobs were rough and broken for several minutes before he ducked his head to look at her. Her beautiful face was splotchy and marked with tears.

She felt better, having that off her chest. James' warm, heavy weight on her was comforting. His lips pressed against her neck lazily.

"Why'd you say you knew how this felt first hand?" She asked softly.

"I've died or wished I'd die several times in my training, Tasha." He breathed. "I came over here for the war. I was captured by an organization and experimented on. Then I ended up here. Nothings easy. I repressed all those feelings. I didn't want you to suffer that too."

James rolled over and let Natasha settle and rest her head on his chest. She looked up at him, "The war?" Something didn't match up. "What war?"

James looked down at her curiously, "The war, Natasha. World War II."

Natasha sat up and brushed her hair back. "James… Do you know what year it is?" Her heart hammered. This did not make sense. What he was saying made him more than 70 years old. He looked so young. He looked no older than her. What had happened to him.

"1946?" He replied looking up at her.

Natasha stood up and covered her mouth. There was something going on in the winter soldier program. How did he not know what year it was? He seemed alarmed at her reaction.

"James… it's 2002." She whispered. She brushed her hands across her face and looked at him.

He seemed to be thinking very hard. In a defeated sigh and rubbed his head. "They've done things to me Tasha… There's gaps in my memory. Some days I remember things, some days I don't."

Natasha paced around the small spanse of wooden floor not occupied by furniture in her room. "How old are you? You look young."

He frowned, "I was 19 in the war."

She grimaced, "How? How… How.. is this possible? You look like you're 19 but you're really…." She paused and counted in her head, "You're like 77!"

He thought for a while and shrugged. "I remember being cold. Then waking up here. I had this arm and I'm enhanced, more so than you are." He stood up and approached her.

"How is this not freaking you out?" She breathed.

"There's gaps I can't fill in my life. I can barely remember how this all happened. My life before the war is clear some days and gone the next." He looked up at her and motioned for her to come closer.

Natasha moved back towards him, her eyes searching over him. The information she had just gathered sent her mind reeling. James reached for her hand. "Does this change how you feel?"

She looked at him, "No…" She whispered.

He smiled softly and kissed the inside of her wrist. She cupped his cheek and shut her eyes. He tugged her closer and kissed up her neck. Lost in the feeling she wrapped her arms around him as he urged her to settle on his lap.

James pecked her lips as he fell back onto the bed, Natasha kissed him harder. James' hands fell to her hips, his fingers working the hem of her shirt upwards as they feverishly kissed.

Natasha lost herself in kissing him. Her fingers roaming over the buttons of his uniform. James' fingers knit into her hair as he placed hot kisses against her neck.

Natasha bit her lip and suddenly gasped. "Oh! We can't… not now!" She tugged her shirt down and sat up. James looked up at her, flushed and still touching her. His hands roaming up her thighs on either side of his hips. "Someone's coming soon to go with me. I have a mission."

She trapped his hands on her legs so she could think straight. "You can't be in here when they come. I need to change and read the file." She scooted off his hips and hurried to her closet.

James took a second to tuck in his uniforms shirt and stood up. "Alright then…"

She pouted and looked up at him, "Come find me later... My window isn't far from the ladder." She hurried by him and kissed him quickly.

"Of course, Tasha. I'd wish you good luck, but you won't need it." He slipped out the door and shut it quickly.

With him gone she changed into the pale pink leotard, and white skirt. Nude tights and simple flats for now. If the mission required her to perform she'd use her pointe shoes. She braided her hair and looped it into a bun. The unfortunate part of her outfit was that there was no spot to conceal a weapon. She's have to be resourceful. She's have to kill this man with something she found or with her bare hands.

An hour had almost passed and she paced her room. Having done her makeup to appear younger. More innocent, and more appealing to the foul men who made a living selling children. A sharp knock came from her door.

Natasha opened it and found James standing outside dressed in black pants and a simple red shirt. His hair was styled nicely. She looked at him quickly before noticing the commander and Madame with him.

"Miss Romanova. Barnes has been under cover in this mission for a while. You are joining him. In time you will take the lead on your own missions. Today you are assisting my soldier. You will do as he says, understood?" The commander asked.

"Yes, Sir." She replied quickly.

The commander smiled at her, "That doesn't mean that you are in any way less qualified. Barnes has worked for months to establish himself as one of the men involved. A hard thing to manage. The man running this ring, Lukas Barkov does not easily accept new comers. Barnes will get you where you need to be. Once alone with Barkov, execute your mission. Barnes will have a separate mission from yours."

Madame handed Natasha a golden butterfly hair pin. She made a show of showing her that the wings were sharp. "Perhaps this will be helpful." Madame pinned it in her hair at the front of her bun.

Natasha followed Madame to the ground floor of the academy. Through a back door a car was waiting. James motioned for her to get in. An older man was driving the car, separating him from them in the back was a tinted glass screen. Once settled James knocked on the glass twice and the car took off.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you?" She whispered.

He smiled, "You were so intent on getting ready. I didn't want to bother you with it."

The streets of Moscow were growing darker in the evening. "How long have you been working on this mission?"

"Almost a year." James said softly, "They were going to graduate Alina first and let her have this mission. She was older than you. I wasn't able to get anywhere near Barkov for a while. I suggested to Madame that we use a girl to kill him. Your teachers all agreed you were ready to do your tests."

Natasha nodded stiffly, "Once we are there what's going to happen?"

James looked at a watch on his wrist. "I left Barkov last night, entrusted to bring new girl for the lineup today. When I bring you in, you'll be taken to a holding dressing room backstage. Other girls are going to be there. It's really important that you act like them. Scared. Fearful. I know you can act, but Barkov will know something is up if you are outwardly brave or defiant. He's a disgusting man, and so are the others. Try not to feed into it."

"I'm not going to blow this mission, James." She warned quickly and gave him a firm look.

"You say that, but Tasha… You'll know why I've said it when you see the girls. The way they look at them. They're younger than you. You'll be the oldest one by far. I've told them you're 15. Barkov is going to pick a handful to send to a secondary location. The others will be sold to private buyers. I promised Barkov you'd be a good fit for the selection. When he picks you, you'll be taken to a private room. He visits each girl. You'll be first. That way he doesn't get to hurt anyone else this time." He handed her an inconspicuous beaded bracelet. Childlike in appearance, which seemed to make her appear younger. He pointed out the larger bead in the middle.

"What is it?" She asked quickly.

"Communication device. When you're done, radio me." He nodded toward the building they were pulling up to. The car had gone around the side of building, pulling up to a back entrance. Secluded. Hidden from passersby. Two men stood by a door. She identified the assault rifles in their hands.

Natasha's stomach tightened as the car stopped and James got out of the car. He opened the door and looked at her firmly. He didn't say anything as he gently brushed a thumb against her arm before wrapping his fingers around it and tugged her out of the car. He was already acting, and she needed to catch up.

She ducked her head as James tugged her toward the door. The men nodded and pushed the door open. They walked down a dark hallway. A song played from the stage as she passed it. One of the ones she knew by heart. Several more armed men waited by a dressing room. James pushed open the door and shoved her inside. She knew he didn't mean it but the action helped her continue acting.

Inside the room she pressed against the wall. She counted 13 more girls. The youngest couldn't be more than 7. Two men stood in the corner and approached her. She wasn't afraid, but playing afraid seemed unnatural. The other girls in the room had real fear on her face. Would they be able to tell the difference?

The larger man grabbed her wrist and instinctively before she could even think better of it she shot her hand out and slapped his away. His discontent was immediate, with the calculated backhand she received to the cheek. The heavy metal ring he wore split her skin. Several of the youngest girls screamed, to which the other man shouted for them to keep quiet.

"The brave ones never last long." The larger man laughed.

Natasha wanted nothing more than to kill him. She could have done it by now. Instead she noticeably shrunk and lowered her head. She could feel the trickle of blood down her cheek.

Her wrists were tied together with zip ties and a heavy permanent marker was used to draw the number 1 on her upper arm. She grit her teeth and let the men maneuver her into a line. Placing her in front of the others. Her only solace was that she knew she'd go first and the others wouldn't have to suffer anything else. It was humiliating, being drawn on. Given a number. Branded like cow for slaughter. It only made it easier to focus on her mission.

On the cold floor she shifted and brushed her arm across her cheek. The blood smearing. A loud knock on the door alerted everyone. The smaller of the two men turned to the girls and pointed a handgun.

"Stand."

Many of the girls did so quickly. Natasha stood and looked at the door before noticing that no one else was. It was harder to fake fear and mean it. She lowered her head, despite the urge to see who'd come through the door. Several men walked in, tall and heavy set by the sounds of their feet and the combat boots. One last set of shoes walked in last. Fine leather shoes. Nice pants. Natasha did have to guess who that was. Barkov. The leather shoes walked to her first and picked up her chin.

Barkov was in his 40's. She already knew that. Dark hair, olive skin, muscular. By the way he talked she knew he was not from Russia. His Russian was forced. Liked James. Learned.

"What happened to her?" Barkov shouted.

Natasha, while her head was forced up, did not look at Barkov. Playing afraid. The men in the room shouted in Russian. Blaming her for her injury. That she fought them. They were lying to Barkov to save their skins.

"This child…" Barkov took a cloth from his pocket and wiped the blood from her cheek, "Fought back and you couldn't think of another way to subdue her than ruin her face?"

The men's fear was filling the room. Marking her face was bad for business, even she knew that. Barkov snapped his fingers, almost unnoticeably to other. Natasha saw it. A man from the back fired two shots. Both men who had been in the room guarding were dead.

Natasha flinched and fell out of line like the other girls, shrinking away. More so because she was pushed and not of her own will to protect herself. It was chaos. Men surged around the room pulling the girls back into line. Barkov himself grabbed her arm and tugged her into place.

He pulled Natasha forward and left to walk down the rest of the line. He pulled 5 more girls forward. Without talking the ones still in line were filed into the next dressing room.

"Take #1 to the room." Barkov said as he left.

James followed Barkov out without a glance back at her. 3 men stayed behind with the other girls and one pushed Natasha down a hallway. He opened the door and pushed her inside. The door locked noisily from the outside. With a backwards glance she saw no way to undo that from the inside. At least not a way a normal person would know. It proved no challenge for her.

The dressing room she was in was probably meant for a prima ballerina. Or a lead dancer for the ballet. It was ornate. Well decorated and comfy. Barkov sat on a couch.

"Come here." He said roughly and pointed to a spot in front of him.

Natasha blinked and moved to the spot.

"You have cost me two men, and you haven't even been sold. You are a problem." He stood up and tugged on her bound wrists. Zip ties were an amateur move. She could break from them in seconds. Perhaps others couldn't and that worked for them.

She leaned away from him. Barkov circled around her. His fingers trailing across her arms, down her back and across her hip. "You know what I do with problems?"

Kill them? She assumed but didn't say a word. Men like Barkov liked to hear themselves talk. His question wasn't mean for her to answer it. It was mean to scare her with the possibilities he could do to her for being a problem.

Barkov pushed her forward, her knees knocking into the couch. "You're either smart or stupid, girl, which is it?"

She knew anger would be next. She didn't suspect him to lay hands on her so soon. He shoved her into the couch. She couldn't react quickly enough to prevent getting her hands trapped under her. Her bound wrists were pinned under her weight, Barkov's hands pushing her into the couch. She was pinned against the couch. She kicked her legs out as she felt Barkov's mouth on her shoulder. It made her blood run cold. Real fear bubbled in her stomach. This was not ideal.

Natasha screamed into the cushion as Barkov bit the tender skin against her neck. The last time she had been bit was when Alina fought her in a mock fight and played dirty. This man was sick, she was glad it was her. She'd kill him the minute he made a mistake.

"Oh, quiet now or I'll have to kill you." His weight shifted backwards, a hand pressed against her back but there was the mistake. He wasn't putting his weight into keeping her down.

Natasha pushed her arms into the couch and rolled off the couch. Barkov growled and caught her foot. Not quickly enough to subdue her. She twisted from his hold and scrambled to her knees. In a sharp angled thrust against her stomach she snapped the zip ties.

Barkov lunged towards her, a fury in his eyes. She reached for the clip in her hair struggling to get it look. Barkov struck her before she got the clip free. It skittered across the floor, several feet away.

He pinned her left hand to the ground, his hot breath blew into her face. "Stupid girl." He breathed. His hand gripped her knee, intent clear now. She suspected that Barkov's audiences with the girls were of the disgusting sort.

Natasha pushed her knees into his stomach, the cement floor tugging at her skin. She jabbed her knees harder and got Barkov to break his hold on her arm. She connected her elbow to his nose and rolled away as he recoiled in pain. She was inches from the clip when his hands slapped against her ankles. Her fingers connected with the clip before Barkov pulled her back.

With the clip she had the control now. Barkov didn't know it, but he would. She let him overpower her. Letting him think she was giving up.

He grabbed her throat and stared down into her eyes. Angry dripping from every inch of his being. His hand traveled down to the skirt on her hip. Momentarily distracted by his own perversions. She stabbed the butterflies wing against his neck. Severing the artery there and kicking him off her. She stood up, watching him bleed out in surprise.

Barkov died in seconds. Natasha panted and lifted the bracelet to her mouth. If it was a communication device how would she hear James respond? She frowned. "Barnes…" She whispered. "It's done."

3 minutes passed and Natasha paced the room. It was silent outside the door. The only thing that had changed was the largest bead on the bracelet was flashing red. When she couldn't take it anymore she approached the door and picked the lock with a bobby pin she found in the room.

She cracked the door open and was met with the barrel of a pistol. James instantly lowered it and sighed.

"Follow me." He breathed and hurried down the hallway. Natasha followed, noting the pile of bodies near the stage. James pushed her into the waiting car and it sped off and he stayed behind.

(So the math for anyone who's going to be upset or not like what I've done here. I've done my research. James was born in 1925. Natasha born in 1984. James was captured by HYDRA in 1945 ish the end of WWII. I do not know how long James was in HYDRA's lab and all that. So for my fic's purpose, he thinks its 1946. Because I've made Natasha 18, there for 1984 pus 18 years makes this story take place in 2002.)