⤷ march 28, 2014
━━━━━━━━━━━
"You know me," she says, catching sight of Natasha hiding behind a van, looking over at her with eyes filled with fear.
Fear of the man in front of her.
The Winter Soldier.
"...Предатель," he says, voice low and muffled.
"Да. Как твои дела? Вы меня пропустили?" She asks, jutting her chin out. Her hands clench, barely contained deep blue, near purple energy simmering beneath her fingers, peaking out in arcs of energy.
The Soldier says nothing, instead raising his gun and pointing it at her. He sets it off, a small explosive shooting towards her.
She rolls to the side, dodging it.
Behind her, she hears a car explode, but focuses ahead.
Throwing out her hands, Irina launches tendrils of dark indigo. They latch onto the gun, but the Soldier knows her. Her attack patterns. He tugs his gun back harshly, pulling her forwards with it.
With a grunt, she rolls to the ground, but twists and makes a steady recovery, back on her feet in seconds.
The Soldier runs at her and Irina can't help the way her body momentarily freezes, stuck in the lights of her approaching demise.
A gunshot.
The Soldier barely dodges it, and Irina looks past him, meeting Natasha's eye as she holds her gun out, pointing it in their general direction. Their assailant turns around quickly, shooting an explosive that has Natasha ducking and hiding away as quickly as she'd appeared.
Taking her chance, Irina leaps forwards, connecting a string of energy between her two hands and, grabbing tight, she wraps it around the Soldier's throat.
They dance for a bit, stumbling backwards and forwards as the Soldier claws at her. Finally, he's able to grab the hood of Steve's jacket and use it to throw her overhead, slamming her into the ground. She lets out a cry of pain at the harsh impact, her eyes squinting open just enough to see a metal hand coming right for her.
She rolls to the side, and the fist connects with the road with a loud noise. The Soldier looks at her, eyes as stony and cold and unfeeling as ever as he removes his fist from the road, a small crater of impact where her head had once been.
This was no training session between them now.
Just like last time, she was his target.
And she didn't know what it would cost her this time to escape.
They both stumble up, and before she knows it, Irina is under an array of punches she can hardly keep up with. She pushes them aside, never able to take one head on. She's never been strong enough for that, even in all her years of training.
One manages to slip past her defenses, seeing a hole in them, and she's hit hard in the gut. Irina flies into the side of a truck, coughing harshly from the impact.
She sees the Soldier take out a knife from his hip and twirl it between his fingers, before holding it with expertise and bringing it down on her.
Irina's hands fly out, grabbing the metal wrist and stopping it in its path. Her eyes are wide, pupils shaking with terror as they dart from the sharp blade to the Soldier, who stares impassively at her.
"Пойдем," she pleads, cursing her small voice, cracking under the fear she felt. She could feel her heart beating erratically in her chest, threatening to burst out. "Please. Just let us go."
The Soldier says no words, instead lifting his other hand and grabbing his metal one with it. He pushes down, and Irina's strength isn't enough.
The blade pierces her, digging into her shoulder. The Soldier twists it for good measure, blue eyes as cold as ice.
Irina screams.
And then the Soldier is off of her, flying back.
A white star replaces the red one.
And Steve looks at her, blue eyes filled with worry.
"Steve," she chokes out. Her knees give out on her, but the knife is still embedded into her shoulder, holding her up painfully. She cries out with pain, and Steve steps up to her.
"Don't move," he urges, free hand hovering over her body, unsure what to do. It's the first words he's spoken to her since New Jersey, at least directly to her face. She wonders why she finds some sense of relief in that. "I'm going to pull it out, oka —"
The Winter Soldier returns before Steve can continue, running at him with a metal fist raised for a punch. Steve turns to him, and lifts his shield.
Metal meets vibranium, and a resounding ring pierces the air.
The Soldier pulls his fist away and grabs the side of the shield, pushing it away and kicking Steve back. He turns back to Irina, who feels herself choking on her next breath.
He takes out another knife, twirling it between his fingers before taking hold of it.
The Soldier lifts it, bringing it down on Irina to finish her off, but mustering what she can, she grits her teeth and holds onto the knife with both hands, using it to kick her feet up and press them against his chest. With a cry, she pushes the Soldier away just in time for Steve to recover and tackle him down the street.
Irina lowers her feet back to her ground, tilting her chin up while her hand grips the knife embedded into her so tight she's shaking. A whimper of pain slips through her. She can't find it in herself to pull it out.
"Hey," soft hands brush over her cheeks. Irina pries her eyes open, meeting Natasha's worried ones tiredly. "Hey, you all right?"
A bullet wound goes just through her shoulder, barely missing over her heart. Blood trickles from it. The brunette frowns. "Are you?" She mumbles out.
"I'm fine," Natasha waves her off. "Come on, we've gotta get this out of you. I'm going to pull it out on three, okay? One —"
The knife is yanked from her shoulder.
With a cry, Irina stumbles forward, leaning into Natasha, who gives a soft hiss of pain, but presses a hand to the back of her waist and holds her up. "You're okay. I'm okay. We're okay, right?"
"We're okay," Irina exhales, trying to believe it herself.
"Bucky?" Steve's voice is faint, filled with confusion.
Irina looks down the street, past Steve's shoulder, where the Soldier is maskless, confusion of his own set in his face. The first emotion she's ever seen on him.
"Who the hell is Bucky?"
Sam dives down from the skies, kicking the Soldier away right as he pulls out a pistol to shoot at Steve. The Soldier rolls away, a deep confusion in his eyes. Irina swears she even sees his blue eyes briefly flicker to her, before he disappears behind a car.
S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles drive in from all sides, caging them in. Irina grips onto Natasha's arm, holding herself up as her heart stutters in her chest with fear.
With S.H.I.E.L.D., came HYDRA.
"On your knees, Romanoff! You, too, Stark!" Agents in black shout at them.
"If she gets on her knees, she's not coming back up," snaps Natasha. "Just handcuff us. We're not going anywhere."
The agents glare at her snark, but say nothing else. They know they've won, that they've got them.
Irina is pulled away from Natasha, her hands cuffed in front of her, tighter than the others, she sees.
When two agents harshly grab onto her arms, hauling her towards a separate truck, Irina can't help the way fear jumps up to her throat, and she starts thrashing about.
Don't take me back.
Please, don't take me back there!
Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease —
"Hey, watch it!"
"Shock her!"
"No!"
"Irina, stop!"
"Calm down! Calm —"
Something slams into the back of her neck, digging into it.
There's a buzz, and then a burst of pain.
Her minds shuts down.
𓆩*𓆪
When she wakes up, it's jolting.
She's in a room. A dark one. Four walls, a high ceiling.
No windows. Just a single door.
Alone.
No one but her.
Immediately, Irina is panicking. She tries to jolt upwards, but she can't. Her eyes darted down to her wrists, to the steel cuffs pinning her down to the table she lays on.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
"No," she sobs. "No, God, please, no!" She cries out, thrashing against the table.
Don't let it be true.
Please.
Please, it can't be true.
She can't be back.
She can't.
Please, please, please!
Get out.
Get out!
Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!!!
Get. Out!!!
She continues to thrash and fight until she can't anymore. Any physical strength is drained from her quickly, leaving her to sob, tears cascading down her cheeks and neck, some falling to her ears. Her chest jerks with every cry and plead and gasp for air she gives.
She's panicking. She's racing.
But she can't get out.
Steve can't be at her bedside, one knee pressed against the mattress as his baby blues shine through the darkness of the night and regard her with oh-so much worry and concern.
Steve.
She wants Steve.
Wants to watch him make her herbal tea.
Wants to wake to the smell of his breakfasts.
Wants to open presents with him.
Wants to make dreamcatchers with him.
Wants to dance with him.
"Steve," she calls out in a broken voice, hoping he'll come for her when she calls for him, like he always does. "Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve... Please, Steve, please..!" She sobs.
The single door slides open. She barely hears it over her chorus of pleas and repetitive calls for her roommate, her friend.
"I'm afraid the Captain isn't coming anytime soon," a voice says.
Irina's words hitch in her throat.
Alexander Pierce smiles down at her.
It unsettles her ten times more than when it did in Stark Tower.
"Nice to see you again, Metatron."
𓆩*𓆪
"S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, it all goes," Steve says sternly.
"He's right," Hill agrees. Nick Fury looks over at her, and she nods.
His gaze darts around the room, looking for someone to agree with him. When he looks at Sam, he's the only one who speaks. "Don't look at me," he says. "I do what he does, just slower."
Nick punches out a breath. "Well..." he sits back. "It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain."
"Now that we've got that down," Natasha speaks up quietly after a long moment of silence, but it's enough for the eyes of the room to cast to her. She stares ahead with a frown set on her lips, her eyebrows slowly drawing together, "we need to talk about Irina."
"Oh?" Nick lifts an eyebrow at her. "Warmed up, have you, Romanoff?"
Natasha flicks a quick, angered glare at Nick, before she looks up at Steve. "They have her. Who knows what they'll do. What if they...?"
"They won't," Steve interrupts her. "Whatever they try, whatever they do...it won't work. Irina won't let them again," he says confidently.
Natasha grimaces. "...Steve, you know her the best out of all of us, but from what I've seen, what I've witnessed..." her voice cracks on her next words, "...she's not mentally strong enough to face them again, to defend herself against them."
Nick's brow furrows as his finger taps against the table in front of him. "Ah, shit," he curses. "They do have her. If Roberts gets compromised —"
"She won't," Steve bites out, fists clenching as he stares at them. "She's strong. She's smart. She knows her stuff."
Natasha lifts an eyebrow at him questioningly. "I thought you were mad at her, for not telling you about HYDRA. Or was the silent treatment just because you felt like it?" She asks sardonically.
Steve grimaces. "I'm not —" he sucks in a breath, calming down. His voice comes out more gentler, "I'm not...angry with her. I just — She should have told me. I was her —"
"Her roommate, someone she's only known for two years," Natasha interrupts. "Steve, she hadn't even opened up to people she had been friends with for four-five years back in New York. Hadn't even told them all her real name. That's progress we might have made, but just because she spills some truths, doesn't mean she's suddenly ready to spill all of them."
Steve frowns. "I was more than her roommate. I was her friend, Natasha. I am — I am her friend," he corrects himself. "And friends tell each other things."
"Some things, yes. Not all things. That's a privilege gifted over time," she says in a stern voice. "And with someone as damaged as Irina, that time is doubled in length. I won't speak for her, but she's hurting. Hurting over her own actions more than you do for her. The last thing she needs," she gets up with a grunt, and Sam's hands hover by her worriedly.
The agent ignores them, stepping up to Steve with a determined glint in her eyes, "is for the closest person in her life right now to be distant and cold over the actions she took that she's already been rotting herself feeling bad over. She doesn't need Captain America. She needs her friend, Steve Rogers, and his unconditional help."
Steve frowns, staring at Natasha with a guilty glance. After a moment of working his jaw, he dips his head down in regret, and sighs. "You're right," he whispers. "I'm sorry."
Natasha looks at him sternly a moment more, before the ends of her lips flicker up. "Don't apologize to me. Save it to the person who really matters. The person who needs our help more than ever right now. Our friend," she says.
After a long, quiet moment, Nick whistles, impressed. "Well, hot damn. I gotta ask Roberts for her secret recipe on how to earn your trust so quickly. That's probably a new record — second to Barton, that is."
Natasha glares at her old boss fiercely, pointing at him. "If I hear a word of that last part getting outside of this room, I will personally make it my mission to find the mole and make them pay," she threatens.
And no one doubts her.
Steve smiles grimly, lifting his eyes, a new set determination in him.
He had to get to Irina.
𓆩*𓆪
"Да. Как твои дела? Вы меня пропустили?" = "Yeah. How have you been? Have you missed me?"
"Пойдем." = "Let us go."
As always all translations are done from Google translate so I'm so very sorry for any mistakes :,)
𓆩*𓆪