May 2003 Moscow, Russia. 19 years old.

Natasha walked into Madame's office like she did every time she returned from her missions. Her black leggings were dusty, the tan boots she wore were spattered with scuffs and a single drop of blood. Her jacket cinched around her waist, was wet with the sprinkling of rain that had caught her as she returned to the academy.

"Status, Natasha." Madame asked as she stood before her desk.

"Completed, Madame. I disarmed the weapons deal and disposed of the three leaders. Their bodies will not be found." She breathed slowly.

"Any injuries?" Madame asked while she write on a paper in a file.

"No, Madame." She replied quickly and withdrew a knife from her thigh holster. Even if she was injured it would have healed by now. The last set of serums she received last year made her more enhanced than ever. Her injuries healed quickly. She moved faster. She was stronger.

Madame motioned for her to return her things to the locker that bore her name in the room. Her weapons and any necessary mission supplies were kept there. She shrugged off the standard jacket she wore on most night missions. The black fabric helped her blend in.

Madame came out from behind her desk and approached her. "You have done wonderfully. You've come so far since last year."

Natasha nodded. Last year was a blur. She remembered her testing. She remembered the soldiers being punished. She couldn't recall why. She remembered… James and all of the mistakes she had made.

She hadn't seen him since that day when they made her watch him be reset. Since then everyone talked. Girls said he was in a cryogenic chamber. Others said he ran away. One girl was firm on her idea that he was dead and that the serums killed him like it did the others. But she knew the others didn't die from the serum. She remembered the gunshots. Gunshots that woke her up out of a dead sleep. She remembered James screaming in pain, and the way he looked at her.

Natasha kept that to herself. She knew if she remembered that something had gone wrong with the brainwashing. A huge piece of the story was missing. Blank when she tried to recall it. Why was he punished? Why did they make her watch?

"What do you remember, Natasha?" Madame asked. Something Madame asked her all the time.

Natasha shut her locker and tugged her tank top into place. "It's confusing." She recalled, and tugged her hair out of the ponytail and combed through the knots. "I don't think I could make a story of it if I tried."

"Don't think too long on it then." Madame handed her a new file. "This one requires some reading. A car will get you to the location at 10 AM tomorrow. Read up on it tonight."

Natasha reached for the file and nodded. She left Madame's office and headed towards the stairs. She flipped through the file as she slowly climbed the six flights that led to her private room. A body slammed into hers and she dropped the file. Papers fluttering all over the staircase.

"Hey, watch it." Natasha huffed and stooped to gather the papers.

A gleam of metal caught her eye and she looked up at the person kneeling on the floor that led to the landing area of the 2ndfloor.

"James…" she breathed and looked at his face. He wore an expression of confusion.

"That's Sir to you, trainee."

Natasha stared at him just as long as he stared back. He seemed unsettled. "I'm not a trainee, you know that don't you?"

She tested the waters. Gathering the last papers and reached for the ones in his hand. He handed them over and his fingers brushed hers. The shock was instantaneous.

Images flashed before her eyes. James kissing her. Them tangled in bed. Sneaking out of the academy. The snowball fight. She had been pregnant. The boys were punished to figure out who she had slept with.

She cradled her head and sat on the steps. Images and words rushing around her head. She had given up. She figured he was dead. It was almost too much to bear.

He helped her up and stepped away. "I know you…" He said unsurely as if he were seeing things too.

She couldn't stop staring, "Yes.. You do."

Footsteps echoed down the stairs from above them. She needed to move. He still looked rooted to the spot, his eyes scanning over her face.

"2 up from you." She breathed and took off up the staircase as she rounded the corner the commander nodded at her as they passed.

Inside her room she buried her face into her pillow and screamed. Absolutely everything came back to her. Every painful memory. The agony she endured to protect him. Part of him maybe remembered her. She wasn't sure what was worse. That he wouldn't ever remember or that maybe all he'd ever be able to recall is that she's familiar.

One of the younger girls brought her dinner and a request.

"Natasha?" The little girl asked as she set the tray of food down on her desk. The little girl stood by the door.

"Yes, Katerina isn't it?" She replied. The girl couldn't be more than 11.

She seemed to smile that Natasha could recall her name. "Do you think you can come help in our classes? I know you're busy being a Black Widow now.."

Natasha remembered how she looked up to the girls who graduated when she caught glimpses of them in the halls. They seemed so strong, so confident, and so untouchable. Did she look like that to this girl?

"Of course I'll come help tomorrow when I'm done with a mission. Save me a chance to be your partner, I'll teach you a few tricks that your teachers won't teach you for a while." Natasha smiled, "Does the soldier still train you girls in combat class?"

"Yes, but not anyone under 15." Katerina pouted.

"Come here, I'll tell you a story." Natasha scooted over on the plush ottoman she used as a chair at her desk. Katerina sat and Natasha handed her the cookie off her plate, she had never been fond of sweets.

She peeled the crust off her sandwich as she always had at her meals she chewed a bite of the simple sandwich and looked over. "Nearly 3 years ago the soldiers started helping in combat. I wasn't paying attention in class and my friend Alina and I were picked to be made an example of."

Katerina was smart and caught on, "But you're really good! Why would they pick you? The teachers keep telling us that you set the bar really high for your scores."

Natasha smiled at her initial comment, "I was the best in all of the classes, but you know what happened when I sparred with him?"

Katerina was eating the discarded crusts. Natasha remembered how hungry she was all the time when she was that age. Growing and training was rough.

"Alina almost died. I interrupted their spar and jumped in. I held my own for a while just because I was fast. But he was stronger, and strength almost always beats agility. He pinned me with one hand and my arm dislocated."

Katerina winced, "He's that strong?"

Natasha nodded, "He's unbeatable. I was 16, and he injured me in minutes. He doesn't spar with you littler ones right now. But you'll have your time soon. I'll come by when I'm not busy and I'll train you and your friends. That way when you are 15, maybe you'll beat him."

Katerina smiled and nodded her head. "Some of the girls were saying you got in trouble. Did you give Madame a hard time?"

Natasha remembered how for many years Madame was a mother figure. She loved Madame. The thought of making her upset or displeasing her was a motivator the drove her towards success. In recent times now, Madame was more of an enemy that she had to keep close.

"I made some bad choices and I almost lost everything I worked for. Don't be like me. Follow the rules, Katerina. They're there to keep you safe here." Natasha said with a sigh.

The clock chimed 9, and Katerina stood up. Natasha handed the girl the other half of the sandwich, "If you hurry you'll have abut 25 seconds before Madame gets into the room for cuffs." She winked knowingly.

Katerina hurried from the room and shut the door. Natasha finished the rest of her slice of the sandwich, devoured the apple, veggies, and roasted potatoes as she read the file.

Another simple mission. A cocktail party at a politician's mansion. She's be posing as guest, poisoning the politician and his friends who had rigged the elections in their favors. This mission called on her ability to talk her way into a situation. Madame had been giving her a variety of missions, gauging her strengths in different areas of her training.

She set the file aside, showered and curled up in bed. Unable to sleep, her mind wandered to the thought of whether or not James would know what she meant by "2 up from you."

She stared at her closed window for a while before deciding there would be no harm if she left it open, other than her disappointment if he didn't come. She opened the window and the smell of fresh rain flooded her room. The breeze that accompanied the rain made her shiver. She hurried to her dresser and fished out a long-sleeved shirt to combat the cold.

She turned around to her bed and gasped as a looming shape pushed through her curtains. James stood there, brushing off the rain from his skin. He looked at war with himself for being there.

"I don't know why, but all I could think about was climbing this ladder. I've done it before?" He questioned.

Natasha nodded, "Last year… You climbed it a few times." She said gently and sat on the bed.

He looked around. He wore red flannel pajama pants this time. She smiled as she remembered how she teased him about looking normal.

"Why are you crying?" He said after a long silence. She hadn't even realized she was. She touched her cheek and brushed them aside.

"I.. It doesn't matter." She breathed looked away. He sat on the bed too, a noticeable distance from her. The last time he was here they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

"I have these dreams…" He said solemnly. "This redheaded girl with a number one painted on her arm dressed in ballet clothes. She's spinning and spinning, and she doesn't stop. Every night she spins until she her arm snaps. Then she starts bleeding from a wound on her side, and she crumbles. To the ground, and she keeps asking me if I got her note." He said quietly. "Some nights she'll spin, and ask me to run away with her, or she'll spin and there's this little girl behind her and they're identical down to every detail. The little one couldn't be more then 4 or 5 and she's got a red star on her outfit."

Natasha felt the air leave her lungs. What he was telling her was a nightmarish collection of memories he had. The one on her arm from the mission. Spinning from her exam. Her dislocated arm from their first spar. The gunshot. Hiding notes for almost a year. What floored her was the little girl. Natasha knew the star on his arm probably matched the star on the girl's chest. Their child. Would it have been a girl?

It was too much. The look on her face must have startled him.

"She's you. I see that now." He said and stared at her with those dark eyes she could have gotten lost in for hours last year. "Who were you to me?"

Were. She forced a sob back at that offensive past tense word. "Those are memories. You dislocated my arm in a spar. I was shot during my tests and you helped out. When we first met, we hide notes to talk to each other for almost two years. You witnessed my ballet exam where I had to spin until my body couldn't take it. You said it was like I died. We did a mission together and I was undercover and the men you too out painted a one on my arm."

James was silent, his brows furrowed in concentration. "Did I ask you to run away?"

Natasha felt a lump in her throat, "No… I did… I was afraid before my graduation. You said… That it didn't matter what happened after graduation. We would always find each other, and that would be our home."

"God…" He sighed and buried his face in his hands. His knuckles were white with exertion. Natasha watched him tug his shirt sleeve up and look at the red star on the mechanical arm. "You seem to have all the answers. What does the little girl mean? Did we rescue her or something?"

Natasha stood up and padded around the room. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself. This was worse. This was worse than remembering. He didn't remember, and he certainly didn't feel how she still felt. She suppressed that longing feeling after they had both been brainwashed. She remembered Madame saying to exclude the last day.

Madame knew if they managed to find each other again, she'd remember and he wouldn't. She'd have to live with that, a permanent consequence for her actions.

"Tell me what you know…" James said quietly, almost like he was afraid of knowing the answer.

Natasha turned towards him, her emotions getting the better of her. "Tell me what you know for a change. What's my name?"

James looked at her taken aback by her outburst. His silence was telling. He had nothing to say. He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. He stared at her, she could see him thinking but nothing was jogging his memory.

"James... Please... Try harder... Please." She whispered. "You know me. Remember me!" Her voice broken with sobs. She no longer cared if crying made her weak.

"I'm trying…" He insisted.

Natasha wiped at her eyes furiously, "I remembered when you touched me." She closed the distance before holding his face in her hands.

His dark eyes searched her face for a few moments and shook his head. Natasha was desperate and pushed him to sit on the bed. Her hands still holding his face.

"You love me!" She whispered. Her eyes stared into his. "And I love you. It was everything, James." She brushed her thumbs across his cheek. "You always did this to me. You would hold me close and your hands would touch my skin like it was made of glass. Remember?" She insisted as he shut his eyes. He was trying.

Her voice was shaking, "You'd kiss my forehead, like this. You made me feel safe when your arms were around me." She pressed her lips to his forehead. She let her lips linger. "Last spring I fell in love with you. You tricked me into a date and I was hooked, James. Remember me…"

His breathing was ragged, his metal hand gripped her waist tightly. The other trapped a piece of her scarlet hair between his fingers. She brushed her fingers against his lips like he always did. "You'd kiss me and when we had to break for air, you'd brush my lips before kissing them again." She kissed him hard, a small relief filled her when he kissed her back timidly.

She hurried to come up with more to tell him. She quickly tugged his shirt off. She stared at him and placed her hand on his scarred shoulder. Fresh tears welled in her eyes, "The first time we had sex… I was nervous and you let me ask about this. Afterwards, I had to leave and I felt cheap. You washed all that away when you said you'd leave me a note. Remember me…" She whispered again.

James pulled her onto the bed. His hands shoved her shirt off and ran his fingers along her spine. She gasped as his lips pressed against the freckle on her spine. She felt the lump rise in her throat, "Do you remember?"

His voice was strained, "I remember this." His hands splayed against her skin. "Keep talking." He breathed. His breath hot against her skin.

Her desperate idea maybe was working. She turned around and ran her fingers along the waist band of his flannel pants. "I made fun of you for these the last time you visited me in this room." She tugged at the drawstrings. "They were blue that time."

He seemed to be remembering as he pushed her down onto the bed and buried his face against her neck. "You came to my room after my first mission. You kissed me like this, when I wanted you to help me forgot the awful day." She breathed, his stubble scratching her neck.

"I want you…" He breathed against her shoulder.

"You said that to me before, do you remember me?" She looked up at him. Her fingers knitting in his hair.

The sorrowful look in his eyes said it all. His hands clenched the sheets and his jaw set in concentration. "I want to… I really do.."

She shut her eyes and breathed slowly, "I'm going to make you remember, if it that last thing I ever do."

His body was tense with anger and frustration. She watched the veins in his neck bulge. She grabbed his face, "I want you. Listen to me. I have more to tell."

James kissed her neck and made quick work of her leggings. Natasha gasped and unknotted the drawstrings of his pants. She bottled the sadness and worked on being hopeful. That maybe the longer she talked the more he'd remember. Or the more they touched, the easier it would be for him to recall the memories.

"The last time you came here…you surprised me." Her fingers knotted in his hair. "I taught you Russian, do you remember that? But I didn't teach you the dirty Russian things you were whispering into my ear that night." She brushed her lips against his shoulder. Repeating the dirty things. He tugged his pants off as she spoke.

He murmured yes in Russian to her delight. He nudged her legs apart and settled above her. "I want you…" He repeated.

She brushed her fingers against his lips to silence them. She knew why he repeated it. Because he was still that considerate boy she fell in love with, somewhere in there he was still there. The boy who watched her every move and constantly watched her because he wanted to do everything he could to protect her when she was the last person who needed such protecting. He repeated it because he was worried he was asking too much. Little did he know that there wasn't anything she wouldn't do for him. Even if it hurt herself in the process.

"Shh…" She breathed. "You already have me, James. You just don't remember yet."

James wasted no time and pressed himself into her. She gasped and wrapped her arms tightly around him as he started moving. He seemed lost in her already, his hand cradling her head to the side to give himself access to her neck.

She moaned softly, "The last night you came to my room…" She panted, "We did this for hours. One look or touch sent us fumbling around the bed. Do you remember what you called me? What name you panted every time?"

He thrust into her at an urgent speed. God she hoped she could get him to remember her name. Her nails scratched at his back tracing the letter N over and over. Desperate for him to say it just once on his own accord. How could he remember a freckle or a word but not her name?

"N…" He gasped against her lips, those dark eyes staring into her again.

"What have you always called me.. Remember.." She panted, her body responding to the frantic pace he set.

She whimpered as he thrust harder the longer he thought. She was so close, her hands clung to his back. "I can't…." He gasped against her jaw.

"Natasha…" She pleaded. "It's Natasha."

His eyes brightened as she said it. He lost himself in her again, his hips stuttering into her as he breathed her name, "Natasha…"

That was all she needed to follow him. Silence wrapped around them. After a while he moved off of her and gathered his pants before retreating to the bathroom.

Natasha sat up, leaning off the bed to gather her discarded clothes. In a flash she dressed, her eyes burning. She buried her head into a pillow and curled up on her side. Pretending she didn't care was the dumbest idea she had, and she was trained to not follow dumb ideas. She had tried so hard to make he remember, but in the end she had to feed him her name.

James returned and his ears picked up on the sobs she tried to stifle with the pillow. He knelt by her bed and pulled the pillow away. She looked over at him as she sat back up. His hair and face were wet. He must have been upset in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry." He started.

Natasha frowned, "Don't be."

He shook his head, "I can't be the one you need me to be, Natasha. I don't remember him. I don't remember anything. It felt familiar somehow. It's not fair to you. You deserve better. I'm not going to remember." He looked incredibly guilty. Natasha suddenly felt used, something she never expected to feel.

"You haven't even tried. Why are you giving up?" She said quickly.

"They reset me every day. I'll forget everything again." He stood up, "You deserve better than what I can give you now."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Who are you?"

James looked at her incredulously, "I know who I am."

She fixed him with a steely gaze, "That's great that you know because the James I knew would never give up this easily."

He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on and disappeared through the widow without another word. Natasha fell back into her bed and numbly wrapped her arms around her pillow. She had done her best, but even that wasn't good enough.

A week later

Natasha held true on her promise to Katerina and attended every combat training class she could. The littler girls were delighted to get to spar her. She was tough on them, but more forgiving of mistakes than Madame ever was. She taught them her best tricks and the little ones caught on quickly.

It was painful being at the training classes when James was there. He was teaching the class about using acrobatics. He motioned to her at the back of the room to join him at the front. Of all the classes she helped out with this was the first that he acknowledged her.

It was stifling in the room. The sun beat through the windows in the late afternoon. She tossed her shirt aside that she had long since stripped of to use as a towel. The girls all sat and watched Natasha square off against their teacher. She waited for him to strike first and flipped backwards, a move she had learned she typically favored in fights. Her feet connected with his face as she arced away.

James staggered then reached for her as she aimed a kick at his ribs. He dodged but she was faster. She sprung into the air and hooked a leg around his neck. Throwing her weight back she took him to the ground. She combined the fall into a sweeping kick on the ground. His hand latched onto her ankle. She groaned as he easily threw her down.

She quickly broke the hold with a sharp hit to his hand. She rolled away and sprang to her feet. James was on her in a second. Her fist connected with his jaw. His hand grappled with hers, forcing it away, distancing her and her quick hits.

Natasha was no longer sad, she was angry. She hissed as she hurled her foot into his side. Again she kicked, then aimed a shot with her left hand to his throat. She threw herself into the air, arcing over his shoulder and looped her arms around his throat. Her momentum made him stumbled backwards. She wrapped her legs around him, her body hanging from his back as he hands forced his head backwards. He lost his balance and they slammed into the ground.

Natasha scrambled onto her stomach but James pinned her like he had all those years ago. She was quicker now and shot her elbow backwards, breaking his nose. He cursed and pushed her arm against her back again. The force of it caused shoulder to pop loudly.

As soon as the joint popped James recoiled. He let her go and stood up. He looked at his hands, but she could tell he wasn't there. He was inside his head. She glanced at the girls who were confused.

"Don't ever lose track of your job." She said quickly to them and flipped forward before propelling herself onto his shoulders. Her legs trapping him in a hold once she got him to the ground. She banked on his distraction.

"Enough!" He barked.

She scowled and let go of him. He stalked out of the classroom and left her stunned in silence. The girls were looking at her. They had an hour left to train. She looked around and quickly devised a plan. "Partner up. I want to see your best acrobatic fighting."

Hours passed as she tried to distract herself with reading. Unable to let the events of the morning go, she waited until lights out for the girls and stood by her window. Still wearing her sports bra and training leggings from earlier, she slid out the window. It didn't take her long to reach where she needed to go.

She swiftly opened a door and hurried in, shutting it silently behind her. The room was empty. The only thing out of place was a board on the floor that was lifted slightly. Where was he? She knelt down and lifted the board and spotted something she had forgotten about. Her trembling fingers lifted three pictures from the hole. The pictures the man took of her and James on the night they snuck out of the academy. One was missing, the one where James spun her in the air before kissing her. She reached into the hole hoping it was still there when her fingers connected with something soft.

Natasha stared at the tiny plush bear he won for her that night. She clutched the bear in her hand and ducked her head. She breathed quickly, forcing herself not to cry. If his room was empty at this time it meant he was gone. After lights out no one was out of their rooms.

She hurried from the room and returned to hers. In the safety of her private room she stared at the pictures and let herself miss him. She had tried, and she reminded herself of that. She tried to help him, but her best wasn't good enough.

She hid the pictures and the bear in a loose floorboard in her room. Over the next few weeks she'd pull them out and look at them before bed. Sometimes she cried, other times it drove her mad that he just disappeared.

Madame kept her at the Red Room for another year following his disappearance. They needed a younger trainer for the new girls and she filled his place. Her missions took preference to her training the girls, and they made due when Natasha had an extended mission. Every day she missed him. Part of her heart seemed to ache constantly no matter what she did.

The soldier program was pulled from the Red Room that year. She suspected that her involvement with a soldier led to its downfall. She never asked about what happened to him, doing so would have given concern that her brainwashing failed.

The year after that she was taken on full time by the KGB. She was no longer held to local missions. She traveled. Months at a time. Taking out threats to Russia before they grew. Going so deeply undercover that she found it hard to separate herself from her role and who she believed herself to be. She was commended mission after mission for her perfection, dedication and her kill count. She was used more than any other assassin.

Nothing was ever mentioned again about the soldiers failed program or the one successful Winter Soldier who disappeared. Assumed dead by nearly all.