She never really had secrets, but she never did speak about her time with the Soldier.

It was painful to think about. Painful to remember. Painful to bear witness and be powerless. Honestly, there was a time where she probably would have cried in relief to see him again.

A familiar face, in a ocean of strangers, in a world she didn't understand. Someone just to be there. To be someone. As capable as she was in combat, she didn't know a thing about the outside world. It was too loud, too colourful. Too much.

She didn't know how to get food, where to sleep, and the thought of Hydra or the Red Room finding her, drove her away from everything and anything that could be traced to her. She did her best to try and learn what she could to…live in the short time she'd been away. Whatever that meant…but she couldn't do it. She didn't know anything but the Red Room. It was her life. So, she stayed in the shadows, re-appearing or disappearing like a ghost when she needed too. She'd simply replaced one prison with another.

She never really thought she needed people, until the Soldier which turned out to be deeply unfortunate. She ended up depending on him too much, and it got him caught again. Which is why, seeing him, standing there. She felt no joy.

She just felt…pain. Guilt. Hatred, at herself. Because how dare she? How dare she feel happy to see him, after she doomed him even longer? How could she have not have come for him? How could she after everything, even look him in the eye if she didn't?

How could she see him again knowing of his sacrifice for her, when she knew it hadn't mattered in the end…

The first time she trained with the Soldier, he'd hit her so hard, she passed out for ten hours. The second time, he'd shattered every bone in her left arm. The third, he'd broken her collarbone and all her ribs.

To be honest, he really scared her by then.

She was used to being the one doing the kicking and breaking of bones, not the one getting kicked. At the time, she supposed that's why they'd sent her; punishment described as progress.

It didn't help that when Daisy, Lula and Caina trained with the Soldier, they nursed bruises and cuts whist she nursed broken bones. Sarai, by some miracle or curse had been completely ignored by him and thus, did not have training with the Soldier.

She didn't understand why he appeared to detest her compared to the rest. Considering he never said a word, had a permanent scowl and stared at you like he was going to blow your head off with his gaze. It didn't help that everything was longer with him. Longer training sessions that ranged from hand to hand combat to marksmanship that would lead on for hours at a time without stopping.

It didn't help that everything she did was wrong to him. He checked her on everything and much like Mother, he'd often smack her with a stick when she didn't stand right, or if her grip was wrong.

Whilst the other girls fluttered between their usual mundane schedules and only had training with the Soldier every third day. She was the one half-dragging herself back to bed past midnight only to wake up at four to begin her sessions, if she was lucky enough to not have passed out.

At the end of the second week, she'd found her bed and mattress being moved by four of the men down the long hall, past the doors to the closed section of the Red Room. And soon after Mother coming to collect her. She'd been placed in a dark room, small and cramped with tiniest vent in the corner. Her bed, mattress and handcuffs had been placed there, with her small box containing her uniforms, undergarments, sewing box and ballet shoes, and in the lining the last few pieces of Emily's chocolate.

She sat down on the bed, already feeling constricted in the room. She wasn't used to being on her own like this. She'd always been around people, around her widows. They all ate together, changed together, slept in the same room, breathed the same air. She supposed she never really connected with many of them, but how could they not be connected by what they've endured?

Luckily, she didn't have to wait long before someone in a thick white coat came in, leading her down another hall into another room.

It had been the first time she'd been in the room with a Chair.

The Soldier was sitting on it. The same blank empty look in his eye, while some white coated people fussed and muttered all around him. The white coat that had lead her there; was a tall balding man, that honestly looked like one good kick in the shin would kill the guy. Nevertheless, he kept a tight hold on her shoulder. She could see why; the room was much like the others in the Red Room, bare white walls and dulled tiled red floors. Everything else, looked like the stuff out of nightmares.

Florescent lights that seemed to burn into her eyes. A large black chair, with weird circle machine above it was in the middle of the room, the Soldier sitting on it. The white coats moved around him, holding out strange looking equipment that made even stranger noises and whirs. A couple tables covered in books, papers, a couple other strange looking machines and screens and one or two laptops. Laptops were something of a big deal, she'd never seen one in the light. It looked like a thin silver brick.

"All done," one of the white coats said to the Solider in Russian. "You may leave."

The Soldier got up moving robotically towards the door. She'd been so busy looking at the Soldier, she hadn't noticed the white coat who had been guiding her, drag her towards the Chair until he pushed her on it.

She knew the second she sat down, she was in trouble. It seemed to scream at her to move; white coats-clever monsters-had already tied her hands with brown belts, with a thick metal buckles on the Chair's arms.

"Don't worry," said the man who'd been speaking to the Soldier. "This won't take long."

She took a breath, panic settling in her stomach. What was the protocol for this? What was happening? She'd never seen anything like this, and she definitely didn't like the long thin tube thing white coat was cleaning.

She did her best, to not worry. In the beginning it wasn't too bad, some standard stuff the Red Room did. Shone a light into her eye and seemed surprised when she blinked. Ogled at her tongue and tapped her all over with a small wooden hammer. Took her temperature, and used something else to listen to her heart. Despite that, she still had to clench her fist tightly, fighting every instinct to run away.

Then it started to get weirder, they started to put strange white patches on her head, that didn't do anything at first, until they started to give little shocks every now and then. They were talking all over each other, their words overlapping and overloading her brain.

The white coat that had spoken to her, pulled out the the long sharp thin tube thin. A needle looking silver wire connected to the tube. He must have noticed her looking at it. He smiled. "Don't worry, everything going to be fine."

She mover back, not wanting the needle anywhere near her. They didn't seem to like that. The white coats gripped her from behind the chair, holding her down.

It wasn't until that moment she noticed he hadn't moved.

The Soldier was standing a few feet away, his hand on the doorknob, but his eyes still looking at the Chair. Had he been standing there the whole time?

She shook her grips, fear twisted into her gut. It was too much. The lights, the sounds, her heart slamming against her, a tightness in her chest choking her.

"Stay still," the Soldier said softly. She wouldn't have even known he'd spoke if she wasn't looking right at him. "Stay still." he repeated. His voice was softer and far kinder than she imagined.

But, really stay still? That was all he got? It seemed much easier said than done for a start. And how could she, how could she be complacent-when they were doing whatever the hell they were doing?

The grip began to give way, the buckle loosening. The white coats were trying to hold her down, but she was wriggling too much, managing to knock a few of them backwards, sending one crashing into the wall.

That stirred a reaction. The Soldier glancing between her and the white coat that was crumpled on the floor. Something flickered though his eyes. She pulled harder on the grip, the grip snapping loudly, when she'd torn it off. She tried to yank the other, while fending off the swarm of white coats. The Soldier moved forward. For a split second, she thought he'd help her.

He didn't.

In one swift move, he'd crossed the floor, one arm grabbed her shoulder, forcing her back down, the other holding her head down. She was screaming at this point, trying her best to move.

It was pointless of course. Just like the first time she'd met the Soldier, it wasn't a fight.

Stay still. That's what he said. She shut her eyes, forcing herself to stop moving. Her heart was in her throat, but she remained still; the warning in her ears remaining. Stay still.

He'd been attacking her for over three hours. Attack. Attack. Attack. She slammed hard onto the cement. Her limbs shook, but she forced herself to get up, to move, to stand. She'd do this all day if she could. If only her body actually co-operated…

He stood over her, she could see his large imposing shadow. Here it came. She shut her eyes.

His hand gripped the back of her uniform, picking her up easily holding her in the air, her feet dangling. Oh, no, he was going to throw her again, wasn't he?

To her surprise, he didn't, instead he gently set her down on her feet. She wobbled slightly, still feeling unsteady. He stared at her for a few seconds, before sharply turning around, walking down the hall.

She watched him leave, awkwardly looking around. She didn't know her way around this building without him or Mother. Was he coming back? Did he just leave her? Was she supposed to follow him?

The Soldier marched back, the ever present scowl on his face when he faced her. She had to step back a bit and look up a lot to see him. The Solider picking her by the back of her uniform again, turning around and marching back down the hall.

So she was supposed to follow him. Well she felt stupid now.

He held her up and walked up around the winding halls, before promptly dumping her on the floor in front of her temporary room. "Sleep." he said, already moving down the hall. She furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what was the catch.

He stopped. There it was. The other shoe was dropping.

He turned his head slightly, the longer brown locks, covering most of his face. "Rest, we'll try again tomorrow." he made paused mid-step, back-tracking again. "You better sleep, I'll know if your pretending. No mischief, Solnishka."

She blinked. Solnishka?

She nodded. "Yes, Soldier."

He seemed to accept that answer, gesturing for her to go inside first. She only heard him leave, when she'd closed the door.

It had been about seven months (give or take), since she started training with the Soldier, and she had to admit; he sort of grew on her. As bad-tempered and scowling as he was. He still scolded her though, but he'd stopped hitting her with a stick.

Even when she stolen one of his guns to target practice, and incidentally took out some of his hair, and had played with one of the silver balls from his jacket, which turned out to be a grenade. She was sure it would have killed the both of them, if he hadn't reacted fast enough and grabbed her and taking cover behind on the large pillars.

He even spoke to her now. His favourite word was: "No."

Most of the time, the conversations sort of went like: "Can I-"

"No."

"What if-"

"No."

In any case she took it as a sign, she was doing alright. Like it or not, this was the closest thing to 'an fun adventure' for her. Like it or not, he was the closest thing to...well, to her.

She'd been so used to seeing him all the time. Hovering around her, teaching her, scolding her…It had been strange when he wasn't there at the time he usually was to collect her. In his place was a white coat, who'd informed her that the Soldier was resting today and that she was to run over her usual training drills until tomorrow.

Now, if it had been five months ago, maybe-just maybe she would have brushed it off. But the Soldier, resting? She doubted he even slept. She wouldn't have believed he ever ate if she hadn't see it herself.

After she ran her training drills, she awkwardly moped around the court, boredom quickly setting in. If she was following her usual schedules, she would probably be doing language training, or needlework, ballet or having cartoon time. But since she'd been in the Soldier's care, he decided the schedule. But now, he wasn't here.

She glanced down the hall, scampering down to her room. The Soldier stayed behind one of these doors too, she just needed to find the right one. Carefully walking past the doors, peaking into each keyhole or under the door, pressing her ear against the door in hopes of hearing a heartbeat.

After the first six not working out, she finally found presence in the seventh. She bent down, squinting her right eyes in hopes of getting a glimpse of metal. She didn't have to wait long. He was in here.

She quickly checked to see if anyone else was around, before she quietly knocked on the door. "Solider? It's me." she whispered. Nothing. But she felt determined today.

"Soldier? What the matter? Are you hurt or something?" she said teasingly. She waited patiently for a response, the silence suddenly feeling heavy. "Wait, are you actually hurt?" she mumbled, the small grin instantly disappearing.

She didn't need him to answer, though the thought was alarming. Silly as it was, she didn't think anything could hurt him. She could easily pickthe lock, but found that she didn't want too. Instead she pressed her ear against the door. "Soldier? I'm bored." she started.

Nothing. Was he hurt badly? What would get him to come out?

"Soldier? Okay, you rest. I'm going to do target practice. See you later." she said, walking on the spot to make it seem like she was gone. If that didn't get him to move, she didn't know what would. None of them were allowed near weapons without supervision (a rule she sort of didn't follow), but she noticed he was particularly stingy about it, especially when it came to guns.

After nothing happened, she supposed she should go. She hadn't walked a few steps, before she heard the door open. He picked her up, like a sack of flour and promptly dumped her into her room.

"Go near them, I'll shoot you myself, understand?" he hissed under his breath, slamming the door in her face, before she could get a word in.

She sighed, opening the door. The Soldier right outside, who then again pushed her back inside, slamming the door again. She scowled, wanting nothing more than to slam the door right back at him.

She paused, waiting a few seconds, before slowly opening her door peaking out. He moved a bit funny. Usually he had a slight incline to his left side, given the metal arm, but today it was like he was forcing himself to move more to the right. Deciding to risk his wrath, she quickly ran to catch up, poking him lightly on the right.

He stopped dead, not looking at her, but not scolding her either. She bit her lower lip, awkwardly touching his arm. "Soldier? You did get hurt." she said softly. "Why didn't you go to the doctors?" she asked, referring to what the he called the white-coats. Doctors, healers, people who made things better. She didn't like that description them.

He gave her a look, that told her he would shoot her if she didn't keep quiet. "Go inside." he said firmly. She knew that tone, that was a order. Against her better judgement, she nodded her head, turning around quietly walking back.

"Solider?" she said, pausing midway. "I hope you feel better."

He grasped her arm tightly, not hurting her, but she could feel a strange sense of need in his grasp. "Do…do you still have thread?" he asked slowly, looking straight ahead at the wall. She paused, thread. She was sure there was some left in her little box. "Hm."

He sighed.

"This is cool, I've never stitched a person before." she said, threading the needle slowly.

"Don't get excited." he said. "I can't reach there."

It was a awkwardly placed cut, deep, on his right shoulder blade to the top of his back just under his hair. No wonder he couldn't stitch it himself. His left arm couldn't stretch to reach it. He'd managed to clean it, (sort of) so she just picked up the cloth and wiped up the remaining specks of dried blood that was still there. He was bruised too, large blotches of purple, blue and green mingling together. She thought he must have gone on some sort of mission or something, however…something that hurt the Solider…was far and few. She let out a breath, glancing down at the needle. Now or never.

She slowly thread the needle though his skin, making the first stitch. She poked her head over his shoulder. "Am I hurting you?" she asked unsurely.He hadn't moved, but she didn't want to end up hurting him anymore.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, as if he'd never heard the question. "No." he said softly. She nodded. "Okay, tell me if I am." she said,continuing her small stitches. After a few minutes she'd finished, tying the thread. "Plaster?" she asked, holding out her hand for it.

She noticed a bit of white dust on his hair. It felt cold like frost. She dusted it off, smiling. They weren't really allowed to play will any sort of snow, despite living in a place where it covered most surfaces like a blanket.

"What?" he asked. She shook her head. "Nothing," she said, more frost coming out in her hand. She reached out excitedly showing it to him. "See your getting old."

"Brat."

She smiled. The Soldier handed her the plaster. "Why did you look for me?" he said softly. She stuck the plaster on, why did she come looking for him? Easy. She missed him. She patted the plaster down, poking her head over his shoulder. "I was bored."

He smiled. She never seen him do that before. The small action changed his entire face instantly. is face became younger, dulled eyes looked brighter, and seemed to have glitter in them. It fascinated her how different a person looked from such a small change.

"What?" she asked, jumping off the bed, sitting down on his box of things in the corner. He slowly reached out, gently touching her hair with his hand. "Solnishkamoya, you give me a headache."

She smirked. "You too." she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He smirked. "Brat."

"Where are you going?" she asked, moving under his left shoulder to see weapons he had displayed on the mattress. "Mission?" she asked, reaching out the touch one of his weapons. He swatted her hand away from them, moving her to his right side. "Hm. Go, I'm busy." he said, shooing her away.

She pouted, already finished with her usual training drills and such. "I want to come." she mumbled out before she could stop herself. He shook his head. "No."

"I've never been out on a mission yet," she said, sitting on the floor next to him. "What's it like? Is it exciting?"

"No."

"It's not?" she said in surprise. Usually most widows had to complete their training and have their graduation ceremony before they were given assignments. But those deemed the best at training, and most trusted; like Yelena Belova and Natasha Romanoff were often given assignments alongside older widows or their handlers. It was known as the highest of achievements among the girls.

Then again, the Soldier must have done missions for years. They probably lost their novelty. "Makes sense, you're doing it since the dinosaur time." she said, re-calling the creatures from cartoon time.

"Go play or something, kiddo, I'm busy." he said, cleaning and loading his guns, sliding some of his knifes from his mattress into its holsters and pockets in his uniform.

"But-"

"Solnishka," he said firmly. "Go now."

She sighed, wanting to argue, but had long since recognized the 'definite 'no' tone'. "Okay, come back soon." she said. The Solider grunted, which she supposed was the closest she'd get to goodbye.

She'd hadn't made it two steps from his door, when she was face to face with the Soldier's handler…Pierce.

Her heart fell into her stomach.

He smiled widely at her, it made her insides twist and suddenly she wished she listened to the Solider sooner. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"Hello there," he greeted in English. Pierce was a old man, with golden hair, dressed in a suit and a few pins. American government pins. She would have analysedthem more, but she wasn't sure if she was actually allowed to look at him, deciding the safest things was the look down.

"Hello," she replied quietly in English. She wasn't sure if she might be in trouble. Since she'd started her training, she'd been under the Soldier's care not Mother's. She'd found that his 'rules' as such were different.

He spent time with her before and after training. After a while she was allowed to come into his room and talk to him when she wanted too. He'd sit with her until she fell asleep after the doctor's where finished poking and prodding her like a guinea pig. On bad nights, he'd mumbled out gentle Russian lullabies. He said it would help her sleep. On good days, he'd pat her head and said praised her on something she'd perfected.

In short, he did things that Mother or any other adult in the Red Room never did. He was nice to her. She didn't know much, but she'd figured that Pierce was his 'Mother', his handler. Would he be upset with the Solider? She hoped not. She knew the things Mother did to her when she was upset. Somehow she felt that Pierce might do something worse.

She hadn't heard him, but she was grateful when she felt his hand on her shoulder. The Soldier greeted Pierce with a silent bow of his head, stepping closer to Pierce, moving her behind him with his hand.

"Prepping for your next assignment?" Pierce asked calmly, his eyes moving between them. The Solider nodded.

"Good, we should get going," Pierce said. The Soldier nodded his head, pushing her away from him. "Go." She nodded, instantly turning around, moving down the hall. Doing her best to fight the instinct to not the run into her room, close the door and hide under her bed.

"No." Pierce said. They froze in place.

She couldn't breath.

"Let's bring her along," Pierce said, walking down the hall. He spoke strangely. He talked as if he was asking, instead of telling. Instantly, the Soldier grabbed her arm, dragging her with him as they followed Pierce down the hall.

He didn't look at her, but his grip felt tight. Desperate. What was waiting for them? What horror was there that he seemed afraid?

They moved into a new building, one she'd hadn't seen before. Pierce opened the door, by typing something in an keypad. They went underground into a darkened room. The room was dark, concrete. They passed strange pod like things that made her shiver as they walked past. Doctors and SWAT moved around them, behind large glass windows and above them. In the middle, slightly lower than the floor around them. The Chair.

It looked larger than the one she'd been taken too, but it had the same ominous feeling. She felt sick, when she noticed instead of belt buckles, there were large thick metal bars.

This was not for her.

Pierce stopped. The people around them; SWAT with guns larger than her, and doctors with white coats and needles with strange liquids in them, acknowledging him.

"Let her go." Pierce said to the Soldier.

His grip tightened on her arm, she though he just might just snap it again. Pierce glanced at him from behind and the Soldier reluctantly let her go; walking to the middle of the room. Clearly he knew what he had to too. She could see him glance behind every few steps.

Piece smiled at her, watching the Soldier step into the middle of the room, sitting down on the chair. "You know," Pierce said conversationally. "You're the best of our program, our little star pupil."

The chair's bars tighten over his arms, two on the metal arm, one on the other. The doctors moved around him, SWAT walking around, on the level they stood. Behind her, one of the men in SWAT had his gun trained on her. Moron. Not that she could do anything; even in a ideal world where she could attack. The Solider would be shot. Not worth it.

Once again, she would have to be docile against her will.

"How's training with him?" Pierce continued. "I've seen the videos, he's a bit of a hardass with you. Jesus," he chuckled, recalling them. "I suppose he sees your potential. Like I do."

She swallowed, biting the inside of her cheek. The doctors moved back, one of them putting a mouth guard in the Soldier's machine started up, loud whirr and purrs that hurt her ears.

"I've seen you before, you're very impressive. A natural born killer. Enhancing that, well…it changes everything for us. You've see her right?" he asked the man who had the gun trained on her; the name RUMLOW printed in white on the corner of the uniform.

"Yes, sir."

Two parts of the machine attached to his either side of his face. He started to breathe strangely, not silent; it was like he couldn't catch his breath, taking in long rasping ones instead.

"I mean, I've never seen something like that without it being taught. Fast, efficient, no hesitation-"

Then the screaming started. It was the most awful sound she'd ever heard. "Your hurting him…" she whispered. She didn't want to hear this, see this…

Pierce shook his head, taking her by the shoulders. "No no, I'm helping him." he said gently. The screams getting louder, the longer the machine stayed. "See, he gets a bit confused sometimes, and this helps him."

"It doesn't sound like its helping him." she said, regretting her words instantly. She shouldn't have done that. She should not have done that. Pierce smiled, his hands digging into her shoulders. Taking back to a superior was like writing a death sentence. Except they didn't kill you, they just made you wish you were dead.

She bit the inside of her cheek, until she felt the familiar taste of iron in her mouth. The machine stopped, the parts on his face detaching themselves. He jerked his head roughly, his breath still coming in long and rasping.

"Hold her." Pierce said to Rumlow. Rumlow gesturing to another man, who grabbed her by the arms. Rumlow pulled out a gun, pressing it against her head. She hadn't even noticed, her attention on Pierce, watching him pick up a red book, a star pressed into the leather.

"Longing."

"Rusted."

"Seventeen."

He'd begun to shake his head slightly, as if trying to get water out of his ears.

"Daybreak."

His face screwed up in pain.

She shut her eyes.

"Furnace."

"Nine."

"Benign."

His breath began to slow, relax.

"Homecoming."

"One."

"Freight car."

Silence.

"Soldier?" Pierce said, closing the book. She slowly opened her eyes. She'd seen this look before; the very first day she'd met him. She didn't like it.

"Ready to comply."

"Good," Pierce said, setting down the book, bending down slightly. "You see that little girl over there?" he said, pointing at her. The Soldier eyes locked on hers, like a predator to a prey. He nodded.

Pierce sighed, clapping him on the back. "Good. Kill her."

This had clearly been planned. Whether it was a test or a punishment-not that it mattered if she was dead.

Rumlow had long since dropped the gun from her head, the doors had been opened. She was glad, she was fast. She flown out of the room, before he'd manged to make it out of the chair. She found out why. Running into the last room, the doors were locked, large metal bars were around the room. On the side, white-coats were all around her, SWAT too. Certain doors had been opened.

This was it.

A actual cage fight. No place to hide, no place to run.

She could hear him coming.

This was so unfair. She didn't have anything to use around her-she didn't-

No. Shut up. Focus. This was no different from lethal combat training, except her opponent was a large metal-armed master assassin. She could not cower. She refused. She let out a breath.

Calm.

She knew from experience, there was no point in going for the metal arm. Speed was essential. Stabbing the right arm, left her open to be attacked by the left arm. He favoured his left side, because of the arm. If she attacked the left leg-

He was here, right outside the door.

Curtain rises. Showtime.

She ran to the bars, using them to launch herself like a bullet. He'd just opened the door, when she slammed into him. They both crashed on the floor. The Soldier always had weapons on him, and she knew where they were. She took her chance, sliding one of his knives one of his pockets.

He'd grabbed her in a choke-hold, throwing her across the room. She controlled her landing, throwing the knife. It hit his left leg. But it wasn't deep enough, yet. He came at her again, unrelenting and fast; while she ducked and blocked.

He caught her by her hair yanking her back, pulling her in another choke hold. She kicked the knife in with her right leg. He yelled in pain, and she couldn't help but wince at the sound itself.

She grabbed another one of his knives, stabbing him with it though her clothes. The blade cut her own skin, but it hurt him enough to release his hold on her. She pulled the blade out, putting some distance between them. If she wanted him dead, she would have plunged the blade into his neck, in his brief moment of pain. Why didn't she? She knew she shouldn't be fighting him. He should be the last person she should ever fight.

They stared at each other.

She twirled the blade in her hands, he pulled out one of his own. He swung, she ducked the blade swipes, before he grabbed her arm showing her blade into the concrete. He grabbed her and threw her against the bars.

She slammed into them, hitting the floor again. The fight between her and Emily flashing past her eyes. Once again, it felt like predator playing with prey. Intrigued to see how far the prey would go, until it released it was futile.

She could see his boots, coming closer. She curled her hand into a fist, pushing herself up. She wasn't going down this easy. She'd do this all day if she had too.

The gun was pressed against her forehead. His metal arm around her throat. She didn't know how long it went on-felt like forever until he'd manged to pin her down, gun to her forehead. Was this it? Was this how she was going to die? She had to admit, it was better than getting her neck snapped by Caina, Lula or Daisy. Better than Mother or one of the older widows shooting her execution style from behind. But him?

It hurt a lot more that she thought, and she didn't mean actual physical pain. It hurt her inside. Which she didn't really understand. He was a bitter old thing. They barely spoke, at least 80% of their time together he was either scolding her or training her. Yet, he patted her head and when she couldn't sleep, he sat in the corner on the floor until she did.

He mumbled out old Russian lullabies and no matter how many questions she had, that she usually shoved down in fear, he answered patiently. Maybe it hurt because, she realized that despite all his strength; he was just as powerless as her. In the end, they were all Red Room. All Hydra.

He was just as much one of 28 ballerinas in the Bolshoi, as she was.

For a split second, she wanted to kill him. Not out of hate, or anger, out of hope. Maybe death may give them what life had taken. Maybe if she killed them both, the seemingly endless suffering may just end.

She could smell the lead, hear his finger almost painstakingly pulling the trigger. She shut her eyes.

The bang was deafening.

She crumpled to the floor, her hand grasping her ear. Pain was shooting though her body, but she was only looking at him. The Soldier holding the gun, looking very confused. People around them looked surprised too. Someone dropped their clipboard.

He hadn't shot her. He'd blown her eardrum, but he hadn't shot her. The bullet had embedded itself into wall, just few centimeters from her head. He hadn't shot her. Even when he choked her out and slammed her into a million different things He hadn't shot her. If she tallied injuries between the two, he easily came out higher. He hadn't shot her. He could have easily snapped her neck rather than draw it out with a bullet. He hadn't shot her.

The order had been clear to kill her. But he didn't.

Why?

The confusion vanished, the Soldier turning the gun on her again. She stood up, despite her shaking.

Shoot me. Shoot me now. Let me die standing, if I am to die at all.

"Enough." Pierce said, walking up to them calmly taking the gun from the Soldier. "We've seen what we need to see. Please take her back to her quarters, training will resume tomorrow. Have her ready by December, I want to test her again before we move on to Phase 2, understood?"

The Soldier nodded.

"Good. Dismissed."

Just like that it was over. Like a bullet embedding itself in a wall, all the anticipation and anguish, all it did was crack concrete.

She'd have been lying to herself, if she wasn't a little bit wary after that. Not of the Solider himself; of the cage that they were trapped in. As silly as it was, while she knew Pierce had been his handler, she never thought he'd had that much control over a person. It was terrifying.

The Solider had distanced himself from her again; but she didn't really scare easy, and it turned out all it took was incidentally burning of one of his eyebrows to make things go back to some semblance of normal. However, December had come faster than she thought, and the anxiety of what she had to face had sky-rocked.

"Lock the gate." Piece ordered. The Soldier gripped the gate, painstakingly slamming it shut. Back in the cage.

"Okay, let's begin."

A man was thrown in, dressed in a strange black skintight uniform. He looked angry.

He didn't bother to survey her, or taken into account their surrounding. He just attacked. She caught the fist. He was strong, very strong. But this time, it was different. This time, she had no qualms about hitting him back. No qualms about killing him.

She pulled his arm back, pulling him down to her height, sending sharp punches to his abdomen. He grabbed her throwing her against the wall, she kicked him back. Pushing off the metal bars, using them to propel herself forwards, she kicked him backwards. She ducked his strike, breaking his bone on his left leg.

He yelled, she didn't care.

He grabbed her, throwing them both onto the floor. She felt him hit her in her abdomen, feeling the familiar crack of a bone. Two ribs, maybe three. She kneed him in the gut, punching him in the face. Grabbing his hair, slamming his head into the floor. He grabbed the front of her shirt, throwing her across the room. She hit into the bars hard.

Okay. Four ribs, maybe a organ. Whatever. She was done playing.

He spat out some blood. Now.

He hadn't yet picked completely picked himself of the floor, when she sprung from her crouch, wrapping her legs around his neck, slamming him onto the floor. He raised his arm, but she'd already slammed her foot into it, breaking it too. It cracked the concrete. Any harder, she might have pulled his arm right out.

If he was screaming, she couldn't hear it.

Grabbing his hair, wrapping her arms around his neck. She snapped his neck, letting him fall from her hands. She sprung up, looking down at him.

She didn't know what possessed her to do it. She brought her foot down over his chest.

She heard that. The crack of his ribcage, the blood that now pooled out of him on the gray floor. It looked like there was a dent in his chest. That was…brutal. Even for her, yet at the back of her mind, a tiny voice said; you did what you had to.

Silence.

All she could hear was her own bated breaths, white clouds of smoke. She would have laughed, if not for the current situation. The man was dead. She wasn't. Ok. Good. She stepped back, holding her side in pain. She thought her organs might fall out if she let go.

"Remarkable." Pierce said, breaking though the silence. The gate creaked open, Pierce walking up to her. He raised his hands; for a second she though he was going to hit her. Instead, he started clapping. Then Rumlow did, then all the SWAT and white-coats.

They applauded her like a ballerina making her debut. Pierce smiled at her, stroking her hair the familiar gesturing of care; felt ugly and unwanted from him. The cheers became louder.

The Soldier stood silently. She couldn't look at him.

"You have no idea what you are, what a gift you have." Pierce said. "I don't want you to worry about what's going to happen next. All you need to know is you are helping us save mankind. Save the world." he said, stepping closer to her, wrapping his arm around her, smiling. "The Soldier has been a asset to Hydra for years." he said quietly to her. "However times are changing, and we need to keep vigilant for us to survive. Besides," he said, tucking some her her hair behind her ear. He'd pulled some strands out.

"Everyone needs a failsafe."

She'd slept deeply. Not out of comfort, out of incredibly strong medication. After the man, Pierce and his band of crazies was around her like a fly. He came into her room, walked her to places, and made her fight three others like the man.

The Soldier was there, he watched from the background when Pierce was around. He'd pick her up and carry her to get treated by the doctors, afterwards. On the days where she could barely walk. He'd sit, falling asleep on her floor more than his own bed. It was the only time she felt safe enough to close her eyes.

That night, she never slept so deeply in her life. Still, she felt alarm when she'd felt his hand over her mouth. "Shh. The guards." The Solider said, slowly removing his hand from her mouth. "Get up, we're leaving." he said, unlocking her handcuff.

"What?" she whispered, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The Solider half picked her up, draping a thick white coat over her shoulders.

"Leaving now, put on your shoes," he said, pointing too them on the floor at the foot of her bed, laces already untied. She quietly slide of the bed, putting them on. Clearly not fast enough for him as he'd already bent down, tying the laces on her right boot.

Leaving? Where? Surely they weren't taking her on a mission this late?

"We're leaving here. Now. Shoes? Good. We should-"

"Sarai," she mumbled, the sick girl flashing though her mind. "We should take her with us." If they was one person who should leave, it should be her. He nodded. "Go get her quickly. We need to leave."

She nodded. Now or never.

She remembered the snow, the biting cold and the pain from her side. She was hurt more than she cared to admit. It didn't help that they needed to keep moving, not just to outrun any potential guards or kill squads, but to keep up with the Soldier's long strides.

Sarai had been pushed to the front, the Soldier guiding her from the middle with her next to him. But she'd been dragging her feet, her head spinning, little black smudges blurring and fading in and out.

The wind blew harshly, making her stagger back slightly, before her body slammed down into the snow. That was all it took. She fought the goddam Winter Soldier, yet winter itself had taken her down "Solnishka?" The Soldier called. "Solnishka?"

She couldn't answer, she couldn't even move. She felt him pick her up. He was warm, like a heater. She could just fall asleep right there and then. Yes…sleep…she could sleep now.

"No." he said shaking her slightly. "Stay awake. Solnishka. Awake." he snapped. She forced her eyes open. He patted her head. "Good. Good, stay awake." he said, pulling her close to the heart. Zipping up his own coat with her inside it, holding her tightly as he began to walk again.

She didn't know long they were walking, every once and a while; he'd remind her to stay awake. It was comforting to listen to someone's heartbeat. A strange level of calm that passed though when you listened. It was steady and calm. It was sad.

She remembered the hounding of dogs and roars of engines broke though the Soldier's heartbeat. They were coming. They were coming.

He broke into a run, grabbing Sarai with one hand, holding her with the other. They flew past the trees, though the snowy mountains and planes. Until he reached it.

Supply trains. He'd set Sarai down. "Find the furthest and soonest out of here." he said. She nodded, running around before shouting for the one at the end. Lights were being turned on. The sounds of trucks and dogs were getting closer. He ran to the one at the end, a few men with guns pointing it at them.

He fired two shots, tossing Sarai onto the train. "You need to keep her warm. Make sure she doesn't sleep, not until she bleeding's stopped. She had a fever. Give her something to eat. If she's not fine in three days, you need to take her to a local clinic far away from here, they should help and not ask questions. Understand?" he ordered. Sarai nodded.

"Go to the front, make them move this train." he said. Sarai nodded again, disappearing into down the train cars.

The Soldier glanced behind him, trying to set her down on the train. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to let go of him. Eventually he manged to pulled her off, setting her down on the train. It was starting to move, loud whistles in the air.

"What are you doing?" she asked, grabbing his hand. "Come on."

"You won't make it off the platform if I come." he said, trying to pull his hand out of her grip. She tightened it even more. "Come on!" she shouted, trying to force him into the train. He shook his head. "They'll catch you if I don't distract them."

She scoffed. "We can take them, come on!" she said, trying to pull him up. He pulled his hand out of hers. "No. Solnishka. No."

"They'll do it again. They'll make it worse." she cried, desperation slamming into her. Was he serious? Where the hell did all this damn nobility come from? He didn't need to be, out of all of them, he should have high-tailed it on this train first.

"Solnishka moya," he said, tucking some hair behind her ear, touching her cheek, patting her head. "Don't let them get you." he said, he was walking now, the train was speeding up.

She could hear the shouts. Roaring of engines and troops of footsteps.

"Solider!"

"Don't let them get you. You don't want to give me headache, hmm? Don't let them get you." he said, firing his gun, still keeping up with the train. Bullets were starting to fly.

"Don't leave me! Soldier!" she screamed, the train now at full speed. He'd stopped running, turning into a blur of black and silver.

"Come back! Come back!"

Thoughts?