Head Is Not My Home

Secrets Lie in Our Wake, Your Kiss Tastes Better Outside the Light of Day

It seemed that Natalia would be undercover as a ballerina for a long time. Their actual performances were never more than once a week, but their assignments were every evening. Some party or another was going on that the girls were expected to attend. The ballet company was on the move, first through other Soviet countries before going to the West. Natalia supposed this was to make sure they were tested before be allowed to work somewhere with more freedom.

This was not the first time Natalia had left her homeland, but the other trips had been short and uneventful. Mostly, Ivan had people he wanted to meet and they wouldn't or couldn't come to Moscow. The meetings were clandestine, and brief, so Natalia had seen little of the world as they hurried back to Moscow to claim never to have left it.

Now, with more time to explore, Natalia was amazed by how different life was in these places. Things that affected the rest of her country had never been directly part of her life, not with Ivan to take care of her, and certainly not in the Red Room, but she knew how common they were for her fellow Russians.

Not that she was given much in the way of free time. Madame B kept them busy, training all day and going to parties late into the night. They were given specific assignments at each party. Sometimes it was as simple as coaxing a secret out of a particular individual, sometimes it was something more complicated, like convincing a mark that they had known each other previously in order to gain unparalleled trust.

Natalia had no problem completing any assignment she was given. Some of the girls struggled, she was pretty sure, but no one mentioned anything in her presence. No one was sent home, so they couldn't have been doing terribly. Still, Madame B always seemed happy to see her, which must mean she was doing better than the others.

Weeks passed and she didn't see the Winter Soldier. It was hard to remember what made her a human being, not just their tool, without anyone to talk to. She flirted with people at the parties but could never share something that was actually true about herself. Covers could be more effective if she included some facet of her own personality, she had been taught, but felt it was too risky here.

So, Natalia retained her first name and nothing else about her life. Her ballerina self was born in a small town far from Moscow, to proper proletariat parents. It was a great honor to be selected by the Bolshoi and to travel to Moscow to be trained. Her parents were very proud of her achievements. It was good to be able to show those bourgeoisie Europeans and Americans what a common Russian girl could do.

Talking about her parents and her life in provincial Russia was an entertaining exercise in creativity. She was always careful to ask the person to whom she was speaking where they came from before referring to her place of birth, to be sure she didn't accidentally make herself from the same place. If necessary, she could always claim that her birthplace was such and such, but she had been raised by an aunt in another town and remembered the first place poorly.

Mostly, though, she spoke about dancing. That was what everyone wanted to hear. So she talked about when she'd started, how she had been selected, the grueling nature of the art, what flexible positions her body was capable of achieving now. That last one was only when it was necessary for some calculated effect, of course.

Once they left the Soviet Union, she no longer saw Alexei Shostakov. That was relief. Madame B had given her a specific assignment regarding him, and she had a sinking feeling that it wasn't just to continue smoothing over their introduction. He was a valuable mark for a closer look at the Russian government, and Madame B was the sort who wanted to know everything. She wasn't satisfied with merely working against other countries, not when presented with an opportunity to influence her own.