Memories of Winter

You Think You're Free

"Natasha?"

Amongst the wreckage of the newly destroyed Red Room, Natasha stood plagued by a wave of memories.

"Natasha, you ok?"

Her sister Yelena was calling her.

"No!"

It was the truth. Whatever had happened to her mind had left her reeling. She stumbled and fell to the floor.

"Hey, you hurt?"

She squeezed her eyes shut willing the onslaught of emotions to stop. Yelena came to her side, touching her shoulder and repeated her question.

"Natasha, are you hurt?"

Natasha was hurting but it wasn't physical. Of every memory barraging into her consciousness only one thought could clarify it all.
"I was never in the Bolshoi."

"What?" Yelena hadn't misheard her but was baffled by the response.

Natasha was bent over and panting, "I never danced with the Bolshoi!" she shouted exasperatedly as she looked at her sister.

"I know!" Yelena shouted back looking at her sister as though she'd lost her mind, what was she talking about?

Natasha crumpled and allowed everything to wash over her, letting herself feel the emotions raging within. She opened her eyes and looked at her sister, tears streaked the dirt on her face.

"I didn't." Her sister's confused face altered instantly softening as she crouched down beside her. "I didn't know. The mist when I freed the others."

Yelena understood, "It freed you too. False memories."

It was a statement, not a question. The fact that Natasha had believed she'd been a ballerina in the most elite Russian company was ridiculous when she really thought about it. She scrubbed her eyes angrily. How could she have thought something so absurd could've been true? To make her forget. Forget what? Natasha clasped a hand to her mouth suddenly overcome.
"What?" Yelena asked.

"They made me forget him."

"Who?" Yelena demanded.

"James," Natasha replied.

Yelena was bewildered again.
"Who the fuck is James?"

Natasha allowed the emotions to overrun her and for a moment she cried into her hand hiding her uncontrollable grief. It was barely a moment though it felt longer before she regained a measure of control, and she turned to look at her sister again.

"The Winter Soldier. James." Of course, that's not what she knew him as now. "James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky. Bucky Barnes. He trained me in the Red Room. We ran missions together."

Yelena wasn't sure why Natasha found that so upsetting, "And? So?"

Natasha was shaking her head, trying to make sense of the jumble of memories that had flooded her.
"He didn't just train me. We didn't just run missions together. We fell in love. Tried to run away together."

Yelena rolled her eyes, "Oh god!" She relaxed and sat down beside her sister, "You have the worst taste in men. You fell in love with the Fist of Hydra and tried to run away with him. The world's two most notorious assassins and you acted like you were in some Russian fairytale."

Natasha rubbed her face, ignoring her sister's accurate chiding.
"Every time I faced him, there was something, I just didn't know what it was."

"You sure that's not just cos you're a Widow?" Yelena asked.

"No."

"Or cos he's good-looking under that mask?"

Natasha screwed her face up, "No. I mean he is but, as an adversary he's terrifying. Brutal, efficient and without compromise. He nearly killed me twice. No, three times actually, but he never did."