Natalia Romanova was the golden child in the Red Room - the star pupil, the teacher's pet, the best of the best. Everybody knew it, including all the girls in her cohort, including Y/N Y/L/N.
But just as she was the favourite, Y/N was the least fav...
Chapter Three: "They can't need us forever, right?"
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19 years old
I let myself flop onto my bed with exhaustion when I returned to my apartment. The long missions were the worst – not that there was a way to rank assassinating people and stalking people from worst to best, but at least with an assassination, it was quick and I could move onto the next case. The long, drawn-out missions were exactly that – long and drawn-out. And I had no patience for them.
Just when I began to get comfortable, planning on going to sleep there and then, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and groaned quietly, assuming it was my handler for this particular mission. When I pulled it out though, I was instantly revived upon seeing Nat's name on the front screen.
Sitting up quickly, I flipped open my phone and couldn't help the smile from appearing on my lips. "Nat."
"Y/N, you answered."
"Of course I answered," I said like it was obvious. "How are you?"
She chuckled quietly. "I'm good, I guess... I just wanted to hear your voice. See how you were doing."
Her words warmed my insides and it was almost criminal the way she made me feel – for someone who was raised to put the mission first, everything else second and– well, emotions weren't even on the list, I struggled to accept the way Nat could make me feel. It wasn't something I should have gotten used to, not with the way our lives were, but selfishly, I let myself indulge. Even for a quick phone call. As long as I got back to the mission, I told myself, it was okay.
"I miss you," she continued, and she sounded shy as she admitted it.
"I miss you, too," I said quietly. "You have no idea."
We'd call each other whenever we could, but that wasn't often. Our job required us to work with other Widows, and the last thing we should have been thinking about is seeing each other. So, short calls every few months were all we had to look forward to.
"Are you still in Sokovia?" she asked.
"Yeah, this mission doesn't seem to want to end," I joked, but it was halfhearted.
"At least you're close to home."
"I wouldn't consider Russia or the Red Room a home."
If there was anything that could come close to a home in the world, it would be her. But I would never dream of saying that aloud.
"Very true," she agreed, mumbling.
"You sound different," I changed the subject, hoping to lighten the mood. "Your accent is... kind of American."
"Almost like I've been undercover for the past year in America," she said sarcastically, and just as I'd noticed, her usual Russian-accented voice had an American lilt in it now. "It's kind of stuck when I've been using it all the time."
