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Кем бы ты ни был: Whoever you are

Чего бы ты ни хотел, у меня этого нет: Whatever you want, I don't have it

Отдайте диск, и мы посмотрим, правда ли это: Give me the drive and we'll see if that's true

Я уже продал его: I've already sold it

Yelena hadn't been sure if relieved was the right word when no one asked about the lines of bruises across her neck or the patchwork along her arm or side.

Still, even if they had, she really didn't know what to say. It was hard to explain that an unknown assassin kept interfering with what appeared to be just her missions, and everytime he did he made it his personal goal to send her back to the Red Room looking like she had just fought a damn bear.

Her superiors, once again, didn't comment, and though a few Widows left lingering looks, none of them seemed too bothered when she put them off with a hard glare. Her training took up again after a week out for her injuries. By the time she got back into her routine, she felt restless.

Whether it was from having done nothing but sit around and wait for her body to cooperate, or the memory on repeat of her most previous fight, Yelena felt like a caged animal and was almost anxious to start back up again. Her days of training turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Time passed with her usual assignments.

Yelena didn't know why her counting was so precise, but she knew it had been eight months, two weeks, and three days since she had come into contact with her mystery opponent.

So, when she had been cloaked in the shadows behind an old shipping crate of an abandoned port, Yelena took a steadying breath as she glanced over her shoulder solely out of habit. Her last few missions had been quiet and lower on the radar, but that didn't stop her from still taking the time to fully check her surroundings.

He hadn't shown his face since their last encounter, but she wasn't holding her standards high that he wouldn't do it again.

Footsteps approached from the other side of her hiding spot. Crouching down, Yelena removed the pistol from her holster and cocked the safety back. The light click was lost in the brisk wind through the maze of crates.

As the footsteps became louder, Yelena took a measured breath as she realized there was more than one set of feet with him. Bodyguards, probably. She stayed low and waited in the shadows as three men came around the corner and continued walking forward. With their backs now to her, Yelena took a few steps into the clearing.

Both bodyguards were larger than her original target, but she had no complaints. The bigger they were, the easier to hit.

Four bullets rang through the night, the first two hitting the man on her target's right square in the back.

The one to his left whipped around and fumbled with the gun in his coat pocket. The other two bullets pierced one through his stomach, the other in the center of his chest. Her target froze and put his hands up, the color in his face draining as his bodyguard slumped to the ground, blood already pooling around him.

"Кем бы ты ни был," he gulped. "Чего бы ты ни хотел, у меня этого нет."

"Отдайте диск, и мы посмотрим, правда ли это," Yelena replied, thrusting the gun forward to which her target stumbled back. "Or I can take it from your corpse, whichever you prefer."

"I - I don't have it, I promise you, I swear," he stuttered, a trickle of sweat dripping down his forehead. "Я уже продал его."

"To who?" Yelena demanded. When her target opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words to answer, she scoffed and took another step forward. He almost tripped over his own two feet.

"I swore I couldn't say," he said, eying her gun like she was holding a live cobra. "They made me prom - "

His words were cut short as a shot fired.

Yelena looked down at her gun in confusion, wondering if there was a misfire. She cocked it open to check and frowned when all but four of her bullets were still there. When she looked up at her target, a dot of red quickly spread across the front of his white dress shirt.

His eyes were wide and his shoulders went stiff, and she watched as his body hit the ground between his two bodyguards.

Uncertain as to how to feel now that the one person (forcefully) willing to give her answers was lying dead before her, Yelena frowned and looked up at the surrounding crates.

A familiar figure jumped off the edge of a shipping crate at least a dozen rows away and disappeared into the maze of them.

Her jaw clenched, and her hands curled themselves into fists, the one holding her pistol shaking against her grip.

Keeping her weapon level in front of her, she slowly made her way back towards the edge of the clearing where she had first emerged. Her eyes darted over every available hiding spot he could have found, but her eyes finally snagged on one just across the clearing from her.

A shadow took a step forward as he leveled something in his arms. Yelena gasped and dove for cover.

Bullets showered across the corner of her shipping crate, their echo downing out the noise around her. Wincing at the sound, but not trusting herself to cover her ears, Yelena pushed herself to her feet and took off down the way she had come. A full moon hung in the sky above her, lighting and obscuring her path with twisted shadows. She ducked in and out of dark corners and crevices (or anything that would remotely hide her from him), but kept her senses dialed to ten.

The dock had fallen completely silent. That's what had worried her most.

Keeping her pistol ready to fire, she pressed herself against the wall of another crate. The cool metal did nothing to ease her racing heart as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Ahead of her, the ocean spread out as far as the eye could see and disappeared beyond the horizon. A railing long since rotted away stood between her and the black depths of the ocean's edge. The wind slammed the waves against its side, and she strained her ears to hear anything other than the splashing water.

Taking slow and silent steps, Yelena released another deep breath as she dared herself to take a peak around the corner. What good that had done her in the past she wasn't thinking about in the moment, and she just as quickly ducked back when she caught sight of the person she was looking for.

Another shower of bullets hit the crate as she took off in the other direction.

Crates lined the dock's edge, some rotting and practically falling apart while others appeared relatively new. She darted behind the corner of one as a bullet whizzed past her, barely missing her head.

Her side with a grazed scar tingled, but she didn't dwell on it.

What she needed was higher ground. And she had plenty of options.

Knowing it was a risk, Yelena reluctantly pushed the safety back again. She shoved it into her holster and warily eyed what was probably her only chance of escape. The crate she had chosen had been pushed almost directly against the dock's side, a tip away from falling into the ocean's waters. She was thankful it at least supplied her with a ladder - even if it had more rust than metal left to it.

Pulling herself up onto the top of the crate, Yelena crawled the rest of the way on her stomach. She had been all-too-relieved she wasn't wrong; the crates had an amazing view point across the port.

She held her breath as she scoped out the top of every one of them, her pistol locked, loaded again, and ready to fire.

The wind brushed a few loose strands of hair in front of her face, but she paid them no mind as she kept watch. A small movement in the corner of her eye from a few crates over put her on point.

He barely poked out around the corner, but that's all she needed.

Yelena fired two, and gritted her teeth when both missed. She planted herself flat against the crate as another round pinged against the wall of the crate, some of the bullets soaring over her head and out into the ocean.

Her mind reeled for a split second at a sudden pause in fire, but the light click of an empty trigger eased an ounce of her building worry.

All he had now was a pistol and some knives. She could handle that.

Yelena hadn't dared move for another minute as she waited to hear from him. She slowly lifted her head again when she didn't, and angled her gun to the spot he had occupied moments before. It was empty now, and her breathing hitched in her throat.

The chill raced down her spine, and she was on her feet before he reached the top of her crate.

She didn't even want to risk letting herself breathe. There was a quiet clink of metal, and she immediately fired three warning shots out of pure instinct. Yelena cursed herself and forced her stance to stay low and ready. Against her better judgment and hours worth of her superiors telling her not to follow her gut, she took a few slow steps to get to the center of the crate, her gun angled down towards the ladder.

The sudden thud behind her nearly gave her whiplash as she turned to face it.

He slowly rose from his landing and came to his full height. Yelena hadn't been able to keep her eyes from widening. Her mind tried to comprehend the possibility that he could have jumped, although the crate was nearly ten feet.

Her eyes locked on piercing blue. No goggles, no paint, only a mask to keep him a secret. His left arm glistened against the moonlight, and she took note that both his hands were empty. She knew better than to think he couldn't fight without his weapons, though.

He simply watched for a moment, his eyes never straying from hers. She did the same, and leveled her gun to aim right between his eyes. He didn't even blink.

"I'm only going to ask this once;" she growled. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer her.

Much like their previous meeting, he only took a few steps forward. With each one he took, Yelena carefully took a few back. She learned the harder way that distance seemed to do her just. He quickly picked up on her pattern and took a step to the left. She followed, and the two began to walk a slow circle, her gun still aimed at his head and their eyes never leaving each other's. She hadn't dared.

On their second round circling one another, Yelena had stolen a glance down at the metal hand disappearing behind his back. As quick as it was gone, it swung forward - and she too had a gun directed right between her eyes.

She didn't miss the way he had taken a step forward with the motion, but she willed herself to stay where she was. The barrels of their guns were almost touching, no more than an inch between them. Both her hands gripped her gun, but she kept her face as impassive as she could. A metal finger curled around the trigger of his own.

His eyes bore no emotion. She saw it again - or more so what she didn't see. Nothing.

Whoever had come up with the term "cold-blooded killer" had been on to something.

Every one of their chance meetings before she had given him the opportunity to make the first move. But the tables had turned. Yelena kept her face stoic for a single beat before she struck.

Darting a hand out, she gripped his wrist and yanked herself forward. It had become more of a habit between them, and she brought her knee up with all the force she could.

He glared down at her and latched onto her arm as he tried to shake her grip. Yelena had been able to feel the bruises forming, but she held firm. As one hand holding her very life at bay struggled to keep the gun pointed away from her head, she took the opportunity and reached for his face.

She had known it was catty to begin with, but she needed a distraction. Yelena tried everything that came to mind, ranging from clawing her fingernails into his eyes to at one point tugging on the loose strands of hair hanging in front of them. He released a muffled growl, and his eyes snapped open, burning with a fury that could have melted her on the spot.

Wrenching his other arm away from her, he gripped her wrist to the point she had been sure he had crushed the bones. But already having what she needed, Yelena had curled fingers against his skin just as he shoved a foot against her stomach and threw her back across the crate.

Yelena hit the metal with a sickening sound, but immediately rolled back into a hunched stance. It had taken her a moment to realize what she had managed to grab when he tore her away from him. Eyes darting down to the mask in her fist, her eyes widened as she fully took in his face for the first time.

A light stubble ran along his jaw, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. Though the rest she had already seen, a deep and forbidden thought had crept into her mind: he really was quite handsome.

Slowly rising back to a standing position, Yelena dropped the mask and stared into the icy blue depths of his eyes. In a strange way, she dared to consider them to be like the ocean, just within reach over the side of the dock: dark, mysterious, dangerous…

She berated herself for thinking such things and lightly shook her head, coming back to her senses as she glanced down at the gun just beside his boot.

A cold wave of reality hit her full force as she realized she had dropped her weapon in the heat of grappling for a hold on his mask. Something in her stomach dropped as she watched it shatter beneath his weight when he took a step forward.

His gun leveled right where she had aimed. Its barrel looked down at her, and the faint click of its trigger cocking into place echoed with the waves of the sea. Yelena kept her eyes planted on him as she took a deep breath. Questions she needed answered had sat on the tip of her tongue, but she had forced them back when he - oddly enough - beat her to it.

"Who the hell are you?"

She didn't know what she had expected his voice to sound like. It was low and deep, bordering on rough. She stood her ground and narrowed her eyes, not letting her thoughts betray her surprise that he was the first to speak. Or the fact he was rather good-looking.

"I asked you the same thing," she snapped. "Seems only fair I refuse to answer."

The operative across from her remained impassive. The only indication she knew that he had even heard her was a slight twitch in his brow, almost (dare she say) surprised that she had even spoken to him.

"You're here tonight."

She honestly couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement, but she took it in stride of being both.

"No, no, I'm a figment of your imagination that you've fought twice now, and the one that won't be left to her own business," Yelena had drawled, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. "I am standing in front of you as nothing but a hallucination that wasn't here to begin with."

Again, she saw his brow twitch. But the glimpse of a spark caught her attention in the depths of his icy gaze. Something along the lines of what could have been amusement.

"Why?"

"You ask me that question when you're the one who has continuously interfered with my missions," Yelena snarled in reply, her sarcasm melting back in the gravity of the moment. She still had a gun pointed towards her head, and an operative that learned how to talk standing across from her that had dropped his amusement, if it was even there to begin with. She internally scolded herself for losing the only thing she had saving her ass.

"What missions?" he asked, holding his arm steady as he took another step forward.

Yelena took one back in return, and it was then she felt the light spray of the ocean hit the back of her neck. The water was just over the edge, and she was trapped between a watery escape and a bullet to the head.

A plan slowly began to unfold in her head as she kept her eyes locked on his.

"And why would I tell you that?" Yelena shrugged. "Maybe it's a secret."

"You came to take out a target," he growled. Another small step forward, another small step back. "Who for?"

"That would ruin the point of a secret if I'm not mistaken," she replied, arching her brow in return. He ignored it, but she didn't miss the way his hand tightened around the gun in frustration. She was running out of crate as it was.

"Then I'll ask you one more time - who are you?"

He extended the gun further, enough so that if she had leaned forward, the barrel would have been pressed right where the bullet was supposed to go.

But she had another idea in mind as she released a slow breath. She needed all the air she could get.

"I'm afraid I can't say."

Yelena took a chance.

She swung her foot around and kicked at his hand holding the pistol. As if having expected it, he side-stepped it with immeasurable ease and brought his arm up to block the blow she attempted to make at his face again.

With no mask hiding his face, she caught sight of his lip curling with disdain, their small banter-play well done and over with.

She lunged and did what lasting damage that could buy her enough time could. Her elbow went square for his chest (that did nothing to move the solid wall of what was apparently pure muscle that Yelena refused to acknowledge), and her other hand swung around and met with his jaw. He didn't even stumble as his eyes darkened with a fury that sent a shiver down her spine.

But Yelena had seen its last specks of emotion flicker by as the wind carried her down towards the water.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Yelena broke the surface of the water as her body was encased in the cold darkness of the ocean's waves. She didn't hear the final shot of his pistol, nor did she see him lower it back to his side as the moon fell behind the clouds and the Winter Soldier was once again clouded in the shadows.

The screen had long since switched to another news feed story, but Yelena paid it no attention. Mindlessly reaching her hand for the remote, she turned it off as she looked down at the playful Fanny wagging her tail in anticipation for a midnight treat.

Memory upon memory clouded her mind, and the past she had tried to leave behind came back in one soul-wrenching rush.

The research she had finally looked into after their last intertwined mission consumed her thoughts, reminding her of exactly who it was she had seen. And how she had been more than lucky to escape with her life not just once, but three times.

His face and features were hard to forget, especially when they held the emotion of a weapon and trained killer rather than another target in the Red Room's way. It had filled her with a selfish notion of pride at the time that she had faced the Winter Soldier single-handedly. Most of the intelligence community didn't even believe he existed, and he was personally credited with over two dozen assassinations.

Now, it was replaced with the dread of wanting to simply forget. Closing her eyes, she brought her hand up to her face and rubbed her temple. She took in a slow measured breath, and released it just the same.

As quickly as it had come, she forced the memories to subside.

Glancing down at Fanny again, Yelena strained a smile and reached a hand over to scratch behind her ears. Fanny accepted it with no hesitation and followed her owner as she rose from her seat.

She cleaned her place at the table and finished the dishes in silence, save Fanny's light trots around the apartment. Yelena flipped off all the lights and made her way back down the hall towards one of the spare bedrooms. The pillows were askew and sheets a mess, but Yelena enjoyed it all the same. The imperfection of her nightly schedule wasn't something she was proud of.

To say the least, the way she woke from her bed in the morning was completely different than when she would drift off to sleep. The comforter could be snuggly over her, and by the morning, it could be on the floor surrounded by the rest of her sheets. It was Fanny's tilted head of concern standing there each morning that forced her to find the goodness in her moments of sleep. The rest was…well, anything but rest.

Climbing into her bed, she gave in to Fanny's pleading eyes and allowed her up on the foot of the mattress. She circled a few times and plopped herself down beside Yelena's feet as the blonde turned off her bedside lamp. Even in the darkness, Yelena lay wide awake as she stared at the peeling ceiling.

She was already preparing herself for the morning, as she knew tonight - like every other - she was about to get a visit from her past.

Hey y'all!

Part 3/3 is now up and running for you guys, and I hope y'all enjoyed this little flashback story line portion, and I promise, this does have an impact on some of the future chapters! But I will be updating again here shortly, and like I said in previous Author's Notes, I will try to keep a consistent update pattern of which will most likely happen on weekends - still deciding though so keep an eye out!

Be sure to leave a review if you're enjoying so far!

And, as always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, or night!

-Summerwinds

P.S. PLEASE NOTE FOR TRANSLATIONS:I would like to point out and make it clear that I am not Russian, I have not studied the language, and if I misused a word, phrase, or anything like that when using it in my story, I sincerely apologize!