Widow's Shadow

IV: Consideration

January 15 2027

Istanbul, Turkey

Deep black and crimson water ran down Natasha's curves as she stood in the shower. The steam of the scalding hot water hugged her tightly, her skin turning red from its pressure. The coal black dye that helped her through previous missions slipped off her auburn hair and swirled into the drain. She winced as the water thundered and stung her scrapes and bullet wound. Its pain distracted her from the nightmares that has taken her hostage in the cold moments of the day and the night. The nightmares of losing someone, someone who was dead in your mind for so long that its memories is coated in heavy dust and the nightmares of someone ripping you apart and throwing your sanity into the darkest parts of the ocean.

Natasha's wounds weren't only external but internal. They never fully heal, they are never lathered in so much joy or happiness. That's too much to ask for, it's too much to long for.

Water raced down her face, masking the tears that began to rush through. Bold, red strands of hair plastered on her face, back and neck was now wrapped around her; covering her face. Her palms found the white tiling of the walls of the shower, she leaned on its cold surface and slowly slipped to the floor. Tears rushed in at a more rapid pace as she hugged herself, the water running over her body.

The sound of the locks clicking into place was blurred by the sound of splashing onto flesh and tile. James walked in, he stopped to a halt and stared at the cloud of agony that surrounded Natasha. Hurt for the only woman that mattered so much to him had slapped him harder than anything he'd felt in his life. His legs began to move as he knelt down and held her, water soaking into his black shirt and pants.

Natasha felt his arms curl around her waist, picking her up to his chest and rocking her back and forth. His heartbeat filled her ears and his soft voice comforted the riot going on in her head. She could feel his hair grazing her forehead as he leaned in and kissed her.

"YA zdes', ya vsegda zdes' (I'm here, I'm always here)." He repeated over and over again into her ear, his lips touching her skin.

Her breathing slowed and her tears were gone. She turned to look up at James who had a sad but reassuring smiled planted on his beautifully carved face. How can someone look so wounded but be so beautiful at the same time?

A moment later he stood up, turned the faucet off and pulled a towel from off the rack, placing it around Natasha's body. The hot water that once cloaked her slipped away faster than she could breathe, she shivered under the downy towel.

Natasha got up and dried herself, rubbing her skin until it went a light shade of red. James sat on the toilet seat as Natasha pulled her shirt over her head and stared into her reflection. Her eyes were swollen and red, her fingers stroked her cheek for a split second and looked away. Finding herself out of the bathroom; not wanting to stare at what she already knew was damaged.

James stood behind her. "You should get some sleep." He said so quietly it felt like a whisper.

She turned her head and nodded, too exhausted to even argue. She threw her sweatpants on the couch, and slipped under the cool sheets; falling asleep even before her head hit the pillow.

James smiled as he saw her chest slowly rising and lowering in a steady rhythm. She hadn't slept properly for months and her depravity was catching up to her. To see her finally give in and nap even after the anger and resentment she been feeding herself was more than James could possibly ask for.

He then headed to his duffle bag and pulled out a small first aid kit. With everything that went on in those few moments they had completely forgotten about the wound on Natasha's shoulder. He took out some ointment and some gauze and placed a clean bandage on her, throwing the other away.

After taking a deep breath he sat on the couch and replayed the day in his head, everything was so planned out, everything was in their favor then in a split second it was gone. Ripped out of them quicker than they could twitch. What stood out the most for him was the resurrection of the Winter Soldier Initiative, for decades among decades he was the only living and successful soldier out there. The others, even though they were considered deadly, were taken down in their sleep.

So how after erasing what was left of them, could someone find enough to try to recreate or even take the time to look into the subject? He couldn't wrap his mind around any possible motive.

Marlisa Zola, she was never brought to the attention of anyone, not even as a caution of suspicion. First in her class, an A student, has everything any student would dream of but no one ever questioned what field she was in or where she went after graduation? James couldn't believe that no one was smart enough to even have their suspicions, after all, she is a Zola.

James too was tired, tired of it all but Natasha needs closure and if it means getting out of this, dead or alive, he'll do it. He'd do anything for her if it means being with her.

He got off the couch, pulled off his boots and laid beside her. His face nestled in her shoulder, feeling her warmth and her smooth pearl-like skin. It was the most amazing feeling laying with her and he never wanted to forget this kind of affection. The one that kept him from silencing the voices that harassed him with a bullet.

It was all her, she saved him and he could never thank her enough.