Chapter 3
How long had it been? How long since Natasha woke up in that hospital bed in New York? The day she woke up to her new life.
Those first few days in shield custody had been such a blur. She vaguely remembered running through the streets of Moscow, shot and failing fast. Natalia had realized that his might be the end. That after all she had done, even after she had escaped the Red Room, she was going to die in some unnamed alley on the outskirts of Moscow. The last thing she remembered of Moscow was an arrow whizzing by her head, hitting the brick wall behind her. Was she on a plane? Were men yelling? She couldn't remember. What language were they yelling in? It was English. They were speaking English."… So you thought you'd just hoist her over your shoulder and bring her in?" one man yelled.
".. .she was already shot…" the other, a deeper voice, yelled back. She remembered that deeper voice. It belonged to the arrow. 'Don't' move or the next one will pierce your skull' the voice called. He spoke in Russian, but it wasn't her Russian. It had an accent. It had an American accent. He was farther away, up high, was he on the roof above her? How had she not seen him? How had she not seen an American with bow? She must have passed out again, because the next thing she knew she was in a hospital bed in restraints. She also knew her fogginess wasn't just from her injuries. She was drugged.
"Где я?" she mumbled. Where am I?
Natasha startled awake again. The sun was streaming in the windows. She's slept in the chair beside Peggy's bed.
The older woman stirred, and Natasha smile as brightly as she could.
"Hello Ma'am." She said in her best possible American accent.