eighteen

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A fly buzzes around her head tauntingly and distractingly as she attempts to study the Accords in the now quiet meeting room.

Evgenia wasn't stupid. She knew that she was welcomed into the meeting for a reason. General Ross and all those men and women with their fancy jobs in the government knew who she was. Not as the daughter of the Black Widow but as the apprentice of the Winter Soldier - who's blood coursed through her veins. 

The small figure in Korea had been masked but it didn't take much for people like Ross to put two and two together.

So this was why she has her head in the thick book, her conversational English grasping for familiar words and phrases as to decipher the complicated words and laws, knowing that the clock is ticking and that she is running out of time.

Decide, Zhenya. A voice in her head whispers. Which side do you fight for? 

She understood Tony's perspective.

People had died as a result of the Avenger's actions and maybe it was time that a third party came into play to stop all the deaths.

But she also understood Steve's side.

HYDRA had happened and it has happened to her firsthand. People had agendas and agendas could change.

Zhenya sighs and bats at the fly again. It was such a complicated decision that she shouldn't have to make. But it's not a perfect utopia and if it were, she'd have her leg and her father back or maybe she wouldn't be in America instead in a cozy, warm, civilian home in Russia.

She closes the book and blinks her eyes. Tomorrow. She would have her answer by tomorrow.


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It turns out that there is no tomorrow that patiently awaits her answer.

Mama rushes into her room, early in the morning, dressed head to toe in black as if to attend the funeral that Uncle Steve had hurried to during yesterday's debate.

'There's been a change of plans. The UN has moved the signing to today and not on Thursday. You have a bag already packed?' 

It's more of a statement than a question because it was Natasha herself who helped Zhenya pack a backpack with essentials in the case of an emergency. The girl nods yes anyway.

'Good. The jet's leaving in two hours. Pick a nice dress or something.'

Her mama turns to leave.

Zhenya's mind is churning with answers and ideas. Too many answers and ideas for such a simple yes or no question.

'Wait.'

The former spy pauses by the door.

'I can't sign it.'

'Zhenochka.' Her mama's eyes are ones filled with an emotion a little like uncertainty. 

'Mne zhal Mamulya. I can't, I know that it is the only way to prevent more deaths but Uncle Steve was right. Politicians and all those big men in fancy suits have agendas that we cannot trust.'

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