Russia
Winter/Spring 1997
Winter was on its way towards turning to Spring, but any hint of warmth was still a long way off. Nadya barely noticed. She barely noticed the way the frigid, early morning air burned at her cheeks or that, even encased as they were in thick gloves, her fingertips were beginning to numb. She had been conditioned to be resistant to the cold since she was a child. Besides, she was Russian; she was practically born used to the cold.
Besides, the cold cleared her head. And right now, it was in desperate need of clearing. She was on a mission, and for that she needed her wits about her. There were far too many thoughts and emotions swirling around up there and she was failing utterly at locking them away as she had been trained.
In one way or another, they all came back to the Winter Soldier.
It was becoming a pattern that was quickly growing as tiresome as it was problematic.
After that first time, Nadya had made herself swear it would never happen again. And she hated herself all the more every time she had given in to her overwhelming desires and his over the last several weeks.
Each time had been the same; hard, rough and desperate, each encounter over almost as soon as it began. Her body always ended up littered with bruises from the force of his grip and she could see the marks on his own skin lingering into the next day, reminding her of what had transpired. Her guilt and shame always warred with the resurgence of heat through her body whenever she spied a mark she'd made, recalling easily the feel of him driving into her as she dug her nails into his scalp. Or how she hadn't cared as the sharp edge of the table he'd pushed her back over had dug painfully into her flesh, her discomfort inexplicably adding to her pleasure. The sight of his features overwhelmed with pleasure were all but branded into her memory, as was the way his low, sighing groans as he came always seemed to vibrate intoxicatingly through her.
It was easier to think of the consuming burn and frenzied pleasure than of what came after: traces of bewilderment, confusion and apology, even concern as he drew away from her, leaving her sore and panting and all but curling in on herself as guilt and remorse inevitably crushed in on her for giving in and using him so wantonly.
It was easier to think of the feel of him against her, flesh searing flesh as he touched her, as he moved inside her.
It was easier than thinking of how bewilderingly tender he always was after it was over, especially when she didn't finish along with him.
It was easier than thinking just how much closer to the surface the man trapped inside the Winter Soldier seemed to be when they stole away their scorching moments of pleasure together. But the brainwashed assassin always inevitably reasserted itself when it was over and their pulses calmed. And perhaps she was deluding herself, but since their secret trysts had started, he seemed less blank and uncomprehending than he had at first, as though part of him was fighting back against his programming and their affair was somehow making it easier.
She kept hoping that, one of these times, it would be enough that...but it was foolish. A foolish, childish, wishful thought. Still, she hoped...
But even though it was easier not to think on how deceptively close the lost person he used to be came to emerging, or how close to aware he sometimes seemed, or how gentle and almost fretful he was toward her afterward, she still clung to those moments. She clung to them desperately in her secret heart of hearts as proof that he was—somehow—there and genuinely willing when they were together. Her rational side insisted it was nothing more than a fanciful notion, but it helped ease the weight of her guilt, even if it was only fractionally.
It had been those secret thoughts she'd clung to early the day before, when Madame B had sent Katerina to summon her to the supervisor's office.
Somehow Nadya had managed to keep her nerves under tight control when she entered the room, tamping her uneasy fear away and forcibly restraining herself from clearing her throat anxiously. Nadya had little idea what to expect when she'd received her 'summons' but she'd expected nothing good. Part of her had anticipated at least an oblique dig at her refusal to let the Winter Soldier use her, or even an outright order that she should do so. But part of her also doubted that any such thing would happen. She had made her position very clear to her Training Mistress about that—that she had ultimately and impulsively given in was beside the point. Besides, that Madame B was sure to try and take advantage of Nadya's refusal in some way was all but a foregone conclusion. She certainly hadn't seemed overly upset about it.
Madame B's face had been just as unreadable as always. A pair of KGB administrators had been sitting in one corner of the office, watching her with veiled expressions while one of the Winter Soldier's handlers had been standing just behind the two men. Nadya had managed to stand tall under their scrutiny though, and had taken an odd sort of comfort from the sudden idea that, in a way, by inadvertently complying with their wishes, on some level she was simultaneously subverting it. At least, that was what she was allowing herself to hope...
But then a flicker of movement by her side had caught Nadya's attention, drawing her eyes from Madame B's stoic mien to where Katerina had come to stand beside her. She hadn't left the room as Nadya would have anticipated, but instead had taken her place next to Nadya. Her groupmate's features had been just as indifferent as their supervisor's...save for the smug glint in her hard, dark eyes. It was then that Nadya had begun truly fighting back a flutter of panic deep in her gut.
"Katerina," Her attention had been jolted back to the Training Mistress. "Tell us again what you saw." Nadya had nearly flinched then, though her whole body had tensed at the sudden realization of what had happened: Katerina had seen her...with the Winter Soldier. A cold, prickling sensation had broken out over Nadya's skin even as she'd looked defiantly up at Madame B, hiding her panic and hoping she was the only one who noticed the way her own heart had begun racing with anxiety. Katerina had stepped forward, the smug glint seeping across her face to curl her full lips for the briefest of moments. One of the KGB administrators had shifted then, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. Nadya had forced herself to remain absolutely still.
"She was—with the Winter Soldier, Ma'am. I heard noises through an open door and when I looked inside, well, I saw them—together." Katerina was a good actress. Nadya had always known that, but she'd really pulled out all the stops in Madame B's office, even getting her cheeks to flush as though embarrassed by what she'd seen. But there had been no hiding the satisfied glint in her eye. Her eyes always gave her away.
There was no denying that Katerina wanted Nadya gone. That had been obvious even before she had attacked her on the roof weeks before. They both knew it was only a matter of time before one would be expected to kill the other. And they both knew Katerina was no longer a match for Nadya. Not after the Treatments failed to take in the dark-eyed girl.
They were trained to be the best; unbreakable, unstoppable and merciless. They were taught to use every weapon at their disposal. Every weapon. They learned that using their own sexuality could be just as efficient in pursuit of intelligence as their wits, guns or their fists. It was a poison that they'd been taught to wield. Escorts and Mistresses to the rich and powerful—one even a former Red Room recruit who had worked and seduced her way into the confidence of a very prominently placed official in order to keep an eye on him and, if necessary, take him out—had been brought in to instruct the older girls on the skills that had them rising so high; not just basic seduction, but the arts of listening and companionship and how to inspire the intimate confidence of their targets. Their final test had been an actual assignment, plying their target with their newly taught skills and the promise of sex—sometimes even the fulfillment of it—in the pursuit of intelligence...or assassination.
So sex became nothing more than another tool for them, another weapon in their arsenal to be used to accomplish their mission, be it espionage or assassination. They learned that pleasure and desire were unimportant, incidental if it happened at all; in retrospect, that very expectation was probably a contributing factor to Nadya finding herself so rash and defenceless in the face of her suddenly very real desires. They'd learned sex was not a personal indulgence, but a tool only. It was a concept reinforced early on, especially to Nadya's group; years before, when they were still very young, one of the older girls had been caught in an affair with one of their trainers. The trainer had become the disgraced recruit's next test. And the recruit was subjected to more and more brutal tests until she broke barely days later. There had been no doubt that she had paid the price for breaking that rule.
So there was no denying what Katerina had been hoping to accomplish by reporting on Nadya's meetings with the Winter Soldier. Nadya had seen it in her groupmate's sharp eyes. "Her legs were around his waist, and they were both moaning as he—" Madame B had mercifully raised a hand then, silencing Katerina's affected hesitance and unease as she reported what she'd seen. Irate disappointment a flashed across the other girl's face for a split-second as their supervisor had cut her off. Nadya had nearly smirked at the quickly hidden expression; Katerina had been hoping to see Nadya squirm.
Well, she never got that pleasure...not that she saw, at least. It was then that Madame B had turned to Nadya.
"Well, Nadya. What have you to say," the older woman had asked then, her voice frigid, her eyes narrowed critically at Nadya. Nadya had simply met Madame B's eye and remained silent. Not that she had been able to speak in that moment, anyway; her heart had been fighting for space in her throat even as it had all but closed up in dread. But then Madame B's lip had quirked.
And Nadya had instantly felt even worse than in the moment before.
"For all the vehemence of your refusal, I had little doubt you would see reason and elect to comply with our expectations. Despite the conclusion that your service had little of the desired effect, you have done well." Had Nadya not felt so stricken with guilt and shame at the misbegotten praise, she might nearly have felt a flash of amused vindication at the way Katerina's cheeks had flushed with angry humiliation as the other girl had realized Nadya had been acting with permission. She certainly hadn't missed the flash of hatred in those dark eyes as their supervisor had dismissed the other girl. Katerina was the embodiment of the cold mercilessness the Red Room fostered. She relished in her kills and her ruthlessness. That alone would have been enough to make Nadya wary of her.
But it was what Madame B had said next that had truly shaken Nadya, uttering the words that had made each breath feel like a shard of ice was slicing into her belly. Words that had abruptly and drastically changed the course of her life...especially when Madame B had explained exactly what they meant.
"It would seem you are ready for your Graduation, Nadya Ivanovna."
It was enough to send a shiver through her even now. Nadya wrapped her coat more securely around herself, shaking her head as though the action could help clear her thoughts.
Distraction was deadly. It was one of the Red Room's earliest lessons. But even as she carefully surveyed her surroundings, alert to even the slightest hint of movement while slipping into the dimly-lit garage and making her way among the parked vehicles, part of her mind remained stubbornly jumbled. She couldn't afford to be distracted. Not by memories of the Winter Soldier, not by Madame B's praise or her pronouncement...
...not by Natalia's concerned bewilderment earlier that day, after Nadya's meeting with Madame B...
Nadya had been sitting on her cot just hours after her meeting with the Training Mistress, gaze and thoughts equally distant as she clutched her knees tight to her chest. Her mind had been a conflicted minefield even then, Madame B's announcement still weighing heavily over her. Enough to make her feel even more sick than she had already.
But she hadn't been so distracted that Natalia's appearance at her side could have startled her. She hadn't even looked up, merely shifting to allow the younger girl to squeeze onto the narrow cot next to her. Drawing up her own knees to mirror Nadya's pose, Natalia had leaned against the older girl, her delicate chin coming to rest on Nadya's shoulder as she had studied her friend's face. Her presence had been a comfort, one that Nadya had been in sore need of just then.
"Madame B's not happy that you missed the dance class just now," she had said softly after several moments of companionable silence. Nadya had only nodded, acknowledging what Natalia had said. She had expected as much. "You know she's likely already considering the best way to reprimand—"
"I know, lisichka," Nadya had murmured listlessly. Natalia had given her a sharp look, revealing not only that the younger girl had suspected as much, but that she had found Nadya's tired disinterest startling.
"Then why did you miss it?" Nadya had been hard pressed to bite back her sigh even as she'd fallen back on her training to forcefully ignore the way her stomach churned unpleasantly. It was one aspect of their training—ignoring and pushing past physical discomfort—that Nadya had been finding far more useful than usual. She had also begun to find her use of it rather ironic...especially given what the techniques were allowing her to hide.
Not that she would be able to hide it much longer...
Natalia had frowned at Nadya's lack of reaction, dismissive or otherwise as she might have expected. But she had wrapped her arm around her friend while her chin still rested lightly on her shoulder.
"What's going on, Nadya?" Nadya's eyes had slid shut at the question as she had pushed her conflicted thoughts and nearly solidified plans aside. She'd turned to lean her forehead against Natalia's with a faint smile. But the action had only caused the younger girl's frown to deepen. Shifting, Nadya had proceeded to loose an arm from around her knees to wrap around the redhead, placing a kiss on the younger girl's forehead.
"It's nothing, lisichka," Nadya had assured her, "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."
She wasn't. Not even close. No. She was scared and she was desperate. She had been then, she was now.
After quickly disengaging the driver mechanisms so she could open it manually, the garage door slid open almost soundlessly. It was a bonus of the facility being so immaculately cared for. That being said, there was still no way opening one of the bay doors would go unnoticed.
Just as one of the vehicles leaving the facility without authorization definitely wouldn't go unnoticed. An alarm was probably going off somewhere.
Nadya had very little time. But she had been trained well. She knew to move quickly and she knew precisely what she was doing. As she retreated into the garage, no longer quite so dim with the door open, her instincts truly began to take over, her mind switching tracks from jumbled and conflicted to coolly rational.
She couldn't afford to doubt herself. And she couldn't afford to hesitate.
But Nadya's heart still nearly stopped even as her hand latched onto the handle of the car she had decided on.
The barely audible sound of a scuff across the concrete floor crashed across her awareness like a gunshot. Her fingers tightened painfully around her bag even as she prepared to toss it into the car. Slowly she turned, her whole body on high alert and balanced on the razor's edge of readiness for either fight or flight.
Only to sag at the sight of him standing almost impossibly still between her and the open garage door, watching her with his emotionless steel-blue eyes. All instinct fled, leaving Nadya feeling suddenly more uncertain and vulnerable that she'd ever felt in her life.
She'd been caught.
She'd failed.
Her eyes began to burn as her breath felt like it was being squeezed from her lungs, taking every trace of confidence with it. The Winter Soldier just watched her in silence.
Had it been anyone else to catch her...
For the briefest of moments, her head tried to find a way to get out of this; fight him, reach for the gun on her hip and try to shoot him, try to outrun him...hell, even try to seduce him to give herself a chance to make a break for it... compromised as it was, her conscience openly rebelled at the last thought, nearly convincing her stomach to join in with its objection. But more than that, she found she couldn't bring herself to settle on any of them. She had no will to fight him.
Besides, her rational mind supplied, even if she had wanted to, she had no chance against him. The Winter Soldier was faster, stronger and likely had orders to retrieve or kill her that she knew no amount of sly reason, quick talking or attempted seduction would be able to dissuade him from.
For all the effect she liked to believe she'd had on him, he was still the perfect soldier.
The only way to stop him would be to kill him.
And even if she wanted to, she knew she was no match for him.
They stared at each other, breath misting in the frigid air wafting into the garage.
And then, silently, he was taking a step forward, then another. As he drew closer, Nadya tensed, struggling against the tremor of fear threatening to break through. That fear sparked her instinct to find an escape again, her bag dropping to the ground as her hand instinctively went for her sidearm. But it withered in the face of his approach just as it had at his appearance. Part of her knew she should be trying anyway—better to go out fighting, to at least try to win her freedom—but another part of her, a grimly pragmatic part, knew it would be futile. Another, smaller part still, insisted it would be deserved...a relief even. A hot trail slid down her cheek as he came to a stop before her, the moisture burning coldly on her skin in the frigid air. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear looking at him as the familiar wave of guilt rose through her.
But then his thumb brushed across her cheek, and Nadya's eyes shot open to stare at him in shock. It was such a tender gesture, so concerned despite the lingering blankness in his eyes that warred with his familiar bewildered look, that more tears soon followed. Men born to be killers did not wipe away tears. And now her attempt to run was going to force him to kill her. For that, she hated herself all the more. Her eyes slid shut again as she struggled to keep any more tears from falling.
"Go." Nadya jerked at the rough murmur, barely comprehending at first that it had come from him. As her gaze latched onto his, her mouth fell open in astonishment, her chest clenching at the myriad emotions suddenly surging through her at that one, hoarsely-spoken word. It had sounded almost painful to say, as though he hadn't spoken in a long while, or like the effort to get it out had been immense. His jaw clenched as he looked down at her, something flickering in his gaze. Her breath hitched as she realized what was warring so forcefully against his programming.
The concern and apology—the awareness—written in his eyes was enough to send her tears spilling over again as a tiny, persistent—and wholly undeserved, a small, virulent part of her hissed—sense of relief went through her.
And then he simply turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the garage, one hand still wrapped around the handle of the car door and the other on her gun.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
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