Chapter Four

"Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices." — Alfred A. Montapert

Moscow, Russia — 1994

It was quiet here. Natalia looked in the mirror, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the skinny redhead looking back at her. She didn't recognize the girl. She rarely saw her own appearance. It was the appearance of a real person and when Natalia tilted her head, so did the red-haired girl. Curious green eyes stared back at her, blinking when Natalia did. Her hair was getting too long — it was messy. Natalia didn't like it. She looked away from the mirror; she didn't like the girl who stared back at her. Natalia didn't know her. They weren't the same. That girl looked sad and helpless. Natalia was neither of those things. She was determined. She was strong. That other girl was just weak.

She pulled herself to her feet, taking off her loafers and sliding her feet into her pointe shoes. Tying the ribbons securely, she started to move. There was no music here, not at this time of night, but she didn't need it. All she wanted was to dance. She saw the photos on the walls of the pretty Bolshoi ballerinas and Natalia decided that she was one of those pictures, not the small girl in the mirror. She moved gracefully through the studio, sweeping across the floor to music only she could hear. But she kept one eye on the clock. She could only stay for so long — an hour at most.

But it was an hour of freedom. Not long ago, Natalia had discovered the truck that left at night, headed for the city to get the food and supplies that kept the Red Room alive. And she had begun sneaking out, making it on and off of the truck before anyone noticed her and doing the same when it was time to go back. She knew that she could get into trouble. It was the kind of trouble that none of the girls would dare risk — except Natalia. She wanted to see where ballerinas really practiced and dance in a real studio. And it was beautiful. She never wanted to leave. But then reality set back in and the hour was up and Natalia had to run back to the truck, ballet shoes thrown over her shoulder, and it was back to the Red Room, hoping no one had noticed that she was gone.

Natalia paused, looking once more at the clock. She only had ten minutes left. Her arms fell to her sides and she decided to stop early this time. So she untied her shoes and slipped back into her loafers. They were so ugly in comparison to the soft pink fabric of her pointe shoes. Looking up, Natalia found herself looking back in the mirror. The same sad, weak little girl stood there, ballet shoes dangling in front of her. That girl would never become a ballerina, Natalia thought bitterly. Then she chastised herself. That girl wasn't meant to be a ballerina. She was going to be a spy — an assassin. She had no business wishing for things that would never be.

It didn't stop the sad sigh that escaped her as she headed back through one of the studio's windows, her way in and out of her secret haven. She shut the window behind her securely and took off running. She had to make it back to the truck.

The next morning, Marta was staring at her. Natalia glared and the other girl looked away for only a moment before she was staring again.

"You weren't here last night. I heard you coming back in. How do you do it?"

Natalia ignored her. Marta kept whispering questions at her and Natalia shoved food into her mouth so she could keep from answering. They were obvious questions such as 'how do you get out of the handcuffs?', the ones that were always attached to their bed frames at night. The answer should have been obvious. It had been painful at first but she had learned how to dislocate her thumb so that she could slip her hand in and out without anyone noticing. Now she could do it in complete silence. The pain was worth it for that one hour of freedom every night. But she didn't tell Marta this. It was none of her business. She knew Marta was her friend but she wasn't going to share her secret. It was Natalia's and Natalia's alone. And in the Red Room, she had learned not to trust anyone, even Marta. She couldn't risk Marta telling someone else.

Their day went about as usual. Natalia couldn't help but feel distracted. During her ballet lessons, all she could think about was the studio and how this was nothing in comparison. She had to keep from yelping when she received a slap in the face for losing her focus and not realizing when their instructor was talking. She looked up, her cheek stinging, and she could see the disappointment in her instructor's eyes. Natalia had never understood why she received those looks when the other girls only saw harsh eyes and heard rough words.

"You have the most potential, Natalia, focus!" she snapped.

The comment took her by surprise. That was the closest thing she had ever gotten to a compliment from one of her instructors — except for James, of course. No, not James. The Winter Soldier. She had never told anyone of their little conversation. Natalia was certain she was the only one who knew his name and she would keep that secret too. She got a bad feeling whenever she thought about what would happen if anyone found out. She had no way to explain it so she made sure to keep her mouth shut instead.

She felt another slap across her cheek and Natalia winced. Her instructor just shook her head and walked away, continuing the lesson. From then on, Natalia focused, forcefully keeping her thoughts from drifting. No matter how long the days felt lately, she had to focus.

Natalia felt the uncomfortable pop of her thumb as she wriggled out of her restraint and held her breath as she forced it to pop back into place. She vaguely wondered if she could do any permanent damage to her hand this way but nobody had seemed to notice what she was doing to herself so she decided that the answer was no. She found her loafers and ballet shoes and hurried out of the room. The advantage to being small was how light her footsteps were. She could practically run and make no noise. She snuck through the kitchens but stopped suddenly when she heard heavier footfalls that she knew did not belong to her. Spinning around, Natalia's eyes widened.

"Marta," she hissed, almost angrily.

She took in the other girl's appearance. Marta didn't shrink away from Natalia this time, merely holding up her head defiantly. She was holding her hand awkwardly and Natalia realized she must have stayed up, watching, and seen what Natalia had done. She winced in sympathy then shook her head, glaring again.

"Go away," she whispered.

"Take me with you," Marta said forcefully.

Natalia blinked in surprise. Marta almost never stood up for herself like this, even against Natalia. It had been established years ago that Natalia was in charge. Natalia had never really thought much of it but now it took her aback to witness Marta acting like this. She shook her head.

"No."

She would not let Marta come. It was enough of a risk going by herself.

"If you don't bring me, I'll tell."

Natalia watched her friend carefully. Marta was too timid for that but, then again, this was unlike her. Natalia pressed her lips together and finally nodded rigidly. She couldn't risk it. But then she saw the look in Marta's eyes. The other girl was always too easy to read. She just wanted to get out — she wanted to escape, just like Natalia, for a little while. Natalia urged her forward and helped her into the truck. Then they were on their way, into the city, for their one hour of freedom.

Marta was laughing. Natalia hadn't heard Marta laugh for a long time. The other girl spun about, not as gracefully as Natalia, but she was happy. Natalia stood near the window, watching her silently. She didn't really want to share her little haven but a part of her couldn't help but feel a little glad to have someone with her. She was glad to see someone smiling and not because they had hit their target or won a match during their training. She sunk down to the floor, just watching.

That caught Marta's attention. The other girl ran over, reaching for Natalia's hands. She pulled her friend up, tugging her to the center of the studio. They both stood in front of the mirror and Natalia took a good, long look at the scrawny redhead and mousy, doe-eyed girl by her side. Marta nudged her with a grin.

"Friends forever, right?" she asked, looking at Natalia in the mirror.

Natalia was quiet. For a moment the girls in the mirror just looked like two regular ten-year-olds. Their minds were older than that, Natalia knew, but their reflections were just an image of the girls they could have been. Natalia didn't know much outside of the Red Room but the mirror showed her something else that just felt… different.

"Right," she replied quietly. That seemed to satisfy Marta who took Natalia's hands and pulled her away from the mirror. Best friends, Natalia thought, even though she found the words foreign and uncomfortable. But, in a different world, that is what they would have been. Somehow, she knew that and, for the first time in a long time, Natalia wished she could have been someone different so those words could have meant something real.

They danced for the rest of their hour before Natalia warned Marta that they had to get back to the truck. They raced back, almost late, and scrambled into the back. But this time, something unexpected happened. The driver opened his door again, slamming it shut as he came around to the back. He must have forgotten something, Natalia thought in a panic. She ushered Marta further back, hoping they could hide properly. As the driver looked into the back, Natalia hardly dared to breathe.

It was too late.

"What on earth—" The driver stared in surprise then frowned. "Get out."

Natalia exchanged a look with Marta and together they obediently got out of the back of the truck. Immediately, the driver grabbed them both by the back of the collar and dragged them toward the cab. He told them to get in, the two girls squished together awkwardly on the passenger's side as they drove back to the Red Room. This was it, Natalia thought. She couldn't even blame Marta. It was inevitable that one day she would get caught.

The drive back was silent. The moment they returned, the driver forced them out of the cab, and grabbed them both roughly as he dragged them back inside. Marta whimpered and Natalia shot her a glare. But Marta was already struggling to get away. The driver shouted at her to stop squirming and that was what got the attention of one of the night matrons. When she saw the scene before her, she muttered something under her breath about getting the headmistress.

Natalia tried to push away the sensation of dread filling her belly. She closed her eyes and let the night matron lead them away. They were taken to a room Natalia knew all too well. She swallowed thickly. The night matron made them sit down on a bench across the room and said that she would be back. She locked the door behind her.

"I'm so sorry," Marta whispered.

Natalia just shook her head.

This room was the room she hated the most. An important part of their training as spies was the ability to withstand interrogation. It didn't matter that they were young. They were told that the younger they learned, the better equipped they would be to face whatever their enemies could throw at them. The older girls had been through this too. It didn't take much to explain what went on in this room. Slowly but surely, girls in the program were being weeded out. Natalia had not been one of them. It didn't matter what happened here; she would not be one of them.

The headmistress returned with Olga Ivanovna, the English instructor that Natalia had come to hate. They were followed by two men who had begun working with the girls in much of their training. They weren't the Winter Soldier but they were both brutal. Natalia had heard rumours that they were part of a program for boys, the Red Room's counterpart, but no one had ever said anything to confirm it. They had two small tubs of water. Natalia closed her eyes tightly. It wasn't a punishment, she told herself, it was just another part of her training.

It was just another part of her training.

It wasn't much of a comfort when she felt her head forced underwater, held under until she could feel her lungs burning. The headmistress had been saying something, a lecture of some sort, but Natalia hadn't been listening. She was trying to remember how long she could hold her breath. She wasn't allowed to be scared and yet she was. Every time she was let up, gasping for air, she shot a glance toward Marta, just to see if she was still alive.

"Don't hurt her," Natalia found herself begging. "It wasn't her fault!"

"Weak," Olga Ivanovna muttered.

And then Natalia couldn't hear anymore. She opened her eyes underwater, barely able to see small bubbles as she exhaled too quickly. She felt like she was choking — suffocating even. She hadn't been prepared. There were black spots in her vision and she kicked out behind her viciously. She felt her foot hook around someone's ankle and she yanked them forward so when they stumbled off balance, they pulled her head up with them. She sputtered and coughed but she wasn't done yet. Natalia grabbed the man's arm, twisting it until she heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. She shoved him back violently, not caring that it was her sloppiest work ever.

As soon as he was down, she went after the other one, holding Marta down. He wasn't prepared for the way she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling her forearm tight against his trachea. She would never be able to break his neck, she knew that, but she could easily choke him to death. She kept her surprisingly strong hold until he went limp in her grip but that didn't stop her. Natalia waited. No one tried to pull her off of him. Finally, she knew he was gone. She practically felt his last breath leave his body and she pushed him away, staring.

Natalia had never killed anyone before.

She was breathing heavily, looking around the room frantically. The two older women were watching her with a look of… were they impressed? Natalia couldn't tell and she didn't care. She sunk to the floor next to Marta, looking down at her friend. She had to choke back a sob when she saw her friend's lips were practically blue.

"Marta…" she whispered. "Marta!"

And then Natalia was screaming, shaking her friend's body, trying to force her to wake up. She couldn't stop screaming, sobbing incoherent words when she realized that her friend was dead. She wanted to take back every word she had ever said about Marta being weak. Natalia wanted to take it all back if it meant that Marta would be alive. She had to take it back. Natalia shrieked when arms wrapped around her, trying to pull her away. She kicked and screamed, even going as far as to bite the arm closest to her. But they didn't flinch.

"Grab her legs," someone said.

And then she was in the infirmary, still sobbing. Olga Ivanovna was standing nearby, watching as the doctors and infirmary staff quickly restrained the girl. Natalia fought but she couldn't escape. She kept repeating 'bring her back' over and over again. Someone tried to comfort her, or at least that's what Natalia assumed they were trying to do. It wasn't working. Eventually, she felt a prick in her arm and everything felt drowsy again. She wouldn't let them. Natalia wouldn't let them do anything else to her. They had killed her friend, they had murdered…

When she woke up again, Natalia could hear the faint mutterings of doctors nearby. She was used to that. Everything ached. Her lungs hurt. That wasn't usually a part of her check ups. She groaned and someone turned toward her.

"She's awake."

They went about checking her vitals, their usual routine before the tests. But this time there would be no tests. As everything came back, Natalia kept silent. She couldn't cry again. Marta was dead. She looked up and Olga Ivanovna had been replaced by one of the night matrons. The woman came over to help Natalia up once permission was given to take her back to her room. Natalia stood and walked along beside the night matron without a word. She didn't know how much time had passed but clearly it was still nighttime because everyone else was asleep.

She lay down without argument, allowing herself to be cuffed to the bed once again. And then the night matron left. Natalia lay there in the dark, staring blankly at nothing. She kept twisting her wrist against the cuff, but she wasn't trying to escape again. This time, she just waited, letting it dig into her skin. After a little while, she could feel the blood running down her arm. She took a deep breath, trying to forget. But she couldn't and she knew it.

That night, all she could dream about was the sensation of drowning… but every single time, she lived. That was the worst part.

The Winter Soldier was back. Natalia was glad for it. It meant their training sessions would be harder than ever. Natalia relished it. After all, she had killed a man the night before. So when she trained the next day, something had changed. She was even more vicious, more brutal than ever. Her technique had improved over the last year, especially since the Winter Soldier had become one of her teachers. He seemed to pay special attention to her for reasons unknown. But it seemed even he was surprised by Natalia's performance this time around.

They were using knives this time and Natalia didn't even hesitate to send a sweeping blow across Yelena's cheek. As soon as blood was drawn, the match became near-lethal. And Natalia would have won too, if the Winter Soldier hadn't stopped her. She shrugged him off, walking away from the mat, ignoring the shocked look on Yelena's face as she wiped away blood, only smearing it further.

Natalia sat in their changing room, knife in hand still. She remembered the girl in the mirror with the messy hair. Angrily, she grabbed her ponytail and tugged the knife upwards, straight through it. Shaking out her hair, her curls only just brushed against the back of her neck. She put the knife down next to her and stared at the ponytail in her hand. It was then that the Winter Soldier appeared in the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold. There were still rules after all.

She could see his eyes looking between her and the ponytail. Natalia looked away.

"They killed her," she said, as if that was some sort of explanation.

Instead of responding, the Winter Soldier just nodded— no, James nodded. Something passed between them, wordless but understanding. And then he left, leaving Natalia alone again.

If they had wanted to break her, there was no longer any doubt. The Natalia that had dared try to make a friend was gone. They had made her a killer. And Natalia couldn't deny the satisfaction of feeling that man's life leave his body. But she had killed out of anger. Now she had to learn to kill without emotion. That would be easy enough, she thought.

They had left Natalia with nothing.