Head Is Not My Home

My Mouth, Your Lips, Your Hands, My Hips

Natalia Romanova pulled a man into her room. That was definitely not something the Red Room would allow. Worse still, the man was the infamous Winter Soldier. They would certainly consider this kind of behavior to indicate he had been compromised. In short, this was probably the stupidest thing either of them had ever done. But she couldn't let them dictate every part of her life. She needed to be in control of something.

"Natalia," he breathed into her hair when she turned around to shut the door behind them. She didn't know his name, if he even had one. Asking would spoil the mood, would bring up things neither of them wanted to think about right now. So, instead, she slid her fingers through his hair and drew his lips back to hers. His arms wrapped around her, the left one a little more distant. Was he afraid he might hurt her with it?

The heat of being surrounded by him made it hard to concentrate, but she wanted to make sure he understood. "Wait," she whispered.

He froze immediately, then started to move away.

Her hands stayed his retreat and she waited until he looked at her. "There has to be something that isn't theirs. You're... you're the only one who understands that," she told him.

His right hand gently cupped her cheek and he brushed his lips across hers. "You're the only one who looks at me like I'm... like I'm a person."

She ached to be able to call him something besides Soldier, realizing with horror how thoroughly they had taken everything from him. Was that to be her fate as well? Would she still know him when it was?

Shaking off that thought, she pulled him close again. Even if... even if that was her future, she would delay it as long as possible. He touched her like a dying man seeks rescue, and she was no less desperate. They were a blur of skin and hands and tongues and she couldn't keep track of how they progressed to her bed, or when they took off what clothing. It was the most life-affirming thing she had ever done, and she nestled against him afterward, thinking it would have been worth it no matter what happened.

"Natalia," he murmured some time later. She'd been nearly asleep and dragged herself awake.

"Yes?" she asked, turning in his arms to look at him.

"I should go."

More alert now, she nodded regretfully, glancing away.

"What are you rethinking?" he wanted to know, sounding worried.

She kissed him reassuringly, aware of what he was likely concerned about. "I just wish you didn't have to leave."

A slight smile crossed his lips and he looked relieved. "Me too." His arms tightened around her and he let out a sigh.

"You don't regret doing this, do you?" she wanted to know, afraid that maybe this would cause him more pain than anything else.

He chuckled, the sound unexpected and clearly something he hadn't done in a long time. "Natalia, this is the best thing that's happened to me for as long as I can remember," he told her sincerely and kissed her firmly.

"That's good to hear," she whispered. Pulling him to her, she made it clear that she wasn't ready for the night be over just yet.

He snuck out far too early and she hated to see him go. Especially since she didn't know when she could see him again. She'd pressed a last, desperate kiss to his lips before watching him leave and hiding a smile. Was there anything the Winter Soldier wasn't good at?

It was hard to concentrate during the day, but fortunately no one suggested she have any further treatments. She was very tired as she moved through her daily routine. Soon enough, it was night and she was all too happy to sink into her bed, even if it was alone. His scent lingered and an almost contented sigh slipped out of her before she slept.

The next morning was harder. She was alert enough to worry that someone might find out, that they hadn't been sufficiently discreet. But many days usually passed between seeing him before, and not catching a glimpse of him for a day now was nothing to worry about. He was probably working, as she should be.

They were training for something and Natalia worried when her instructors no longer pushed her as much as they had been. Was something amiss? Was she no longer pleasing them? Did they know of her rebellions? No one had mentioned that colonel – Shostakov – and perhaps her failure there made them no longer value her.

Determined to find out how tenuous her future might be, she began to keep a closer watch on the other girls. They were still excelling, still being taught harder lessons every day. So perhaps she had lost her edge. The thought frightened her and she threw herself into her work, determined to impress.

After a week of this, she was exhausted and lingered over her dinner, too tired to eat quickly. The hall where they took their meals was nearly silent as always. One of the other girls, Elena, suddenly began screaming. Everyone jumped and swiveled to look at her. There was no reason for her reaction, and a couple of men got up, heading toward her.

As soon as they got close, she fell silent but lashed out. The only weapon available was her fork, but she used it to devastating effect – proving how good their training really was. That galvanized the rest of the room, jumping to their feet and backing away from the scene, some leaving entirely. Natalia joined the rest, aware that she must maintain the illusion of her programming, and that such a scene would surely shock and dismay a ballerina.

"Return to your quarters," Madame B's imperious voice came out of nowhere and Natalia jerked her head to see where the woman had entered the room.

Everyone began streaming out and Madame B headed for Elena, speaking in a soothing voice words that were too quiet for Natalia to hear. Was all this because of the treatments? Elena had been here far longer than she had, had been one of those getting them for a much longer time. Would Elena recover? Or would they all eventually snap because of what was done to them?

People were milling about outside the hall and there was general confusion and disorder. That was rather rare in the Red Room, and Natalia decided to take advantage of it. Especially as she felt in need of reassurance. The Winter Soldier had been subject to their treatments for far longer than any of them – hadn't he? She had heard of him years ago, and Elena couldn't have been here that long.

A wave of disappointment engulfed her when she reached his room and found it empty. She lingered in the hallway, unwilling to return to her room unsuccessful. Biting her lip, she listened for the sound of anyone approaching. Although, if she did hear someone, she wasn't sure how she should react. It might be him but it might not.

Instead of hearing either, she heard something else – a shower. There were locker rooms in most sections of the facility and she was impressed by the thought that he might have his own bathroom. Trying several doors before finding the right one, it appeared that he didn't have quite that much privacy. Still, the nearest rooms were empty and there were only three showers. So he likely expected to be alone despite the door not locking.

It occurred to her that it might not be him, so she listened intently. He didn't say anything, but she was pretty sure the unique sound of water hitting metal could only be his arm. No one else had such a thing. Hesitantly, she removed her clothes and wrapped herself in a towel, thinking of reasons to explain her presence here should she be caught, and moved closer.

A hand shot out from behind the curtain to grasp hers and pulled her inside with a 'ha!'

She cried out in surprise, then smiled at the Winter Soldier in relief.

"Trying to sneak up at me? You're not that good yet, Natalia," he told her in his slightly accented Russian.

"Speak in English, I need the practice," she told him.

A devilish grin crossed his face as he pulled her closer. "Well, then, let's practice."