It's not what it seems

2

"Are you really sure about this?" He asked me the next morning at the airport. "I am." I said and walked off to the gate. He followed right behind me. And when he started walking I heard a heavy sigh. He didn't want me to come. Not because he didn't want me around, but because he didn't want me to relive my memories. It was nice of him to care about me, but I still wouldn't let him go alone. He didn't seem to realise how dangerous those people really were. Or maybe he did, it was hard to read him sometimes. "Nat come on, you can still get out of this." "Oh quit it," I said, "I'm coming with you and you'll just have to deal with it." "But you really don't-" I gave him a look that told him to shut up, so he did. We walked to the plane in silence, from Steve's side it was a disapproving silence, from my side a slightly irritated one. It lasted until we sat down on our seats in the plane. Steve broke the silence with a sigh and whispered, "I guess I'll just have to let you go with me then. At least you're good company, very stubborn, but good." I smiled, "Thank you, it's kind of what I do." "Being stubborn?" "When I'm right yes." He sighed, but he smiled.

The plane took off and the country became smaller underneath us. I saw how the trees became green blurs, how they became little specs as we went higher and higher. "Isn't it funny how small we actually are?" "What?" "We're so small, I mean, look at how big the world is," I said pointing out the window, "You can't even see individual trees from up here, and trees are bigger than us." He looked outside, "We're small indeed. And it's pretty ironic if you think of the destruction humans wrought." "Oh god Steve..." "What?" "That you really need to look at al the wrongs of the world." He looked at me, "I guess that's just what war does with a person." "Just try not to okay?" "Hmmm, okay." It wasn't too long before we reached Russia, but Steve fell asleep anyway. I guessed he'd been worrying about Bucky all night. Seems like a thing he would do. I shook him awake and he accidentally slapped me defending himself. "Au, watch out Rogers!" He looked up at me, still a bit sleepy. Then he realized what he had done and shot up straight. "Oh my, I'm sorry Nat, I didn't mean to do that." "It's alright, I can handle it." Nat your whole cheek is red." "Is it?" "Yes, yes it is." I took my phone out of my pocket and switched it to front camera. My whole right cheek was indeed red. I examined it for a while and eventually put my phone back in my pocket. "Good job soldier," I said teasingly with a wink. He looked at me open mouthed, surprised by my reaction. And I laughed at how stupid he looked doing that. "You're not mad?" "Oh come on Rogers, I've had worse."

We got out of the plane, got our bags and went to the hotel were we booked a room. We booked just one room, one with two beds. I wasn't very happy with that, but it was less suspicious and at least I got to drive us around. Steve didn't seem to be very happy about that, especially since I went a bit over the speed limit. "Nat, can you please slow down?" "Oh come on Rogers, don't be such a chicken." "Chicken, why a chicken?" "Because it's an easily scared bird, which makes at a bit of a play on that American bald eagle." He sighed, "can't you do better than that?" "I put some thought in this one chicken, appreciate it." He smiled and shook his head. At that point we arrived at the hotel. It was a big hotel somewhere in the centre of Moscow, pretty close to our target.

Our target looked like a normal ballet school from the outside and partly from the inside, since there was a real ballet room. But I knew there was more in there. I knew there were innocent young girls there, training to become cold-blooded assassins, most of them, if not all of them, against their will. I knew the people who worked there, or at least most of them, I knew the punishments they gave the girls whenever they did something wrong. And I knew I never wanted to go in there. Not again. Our target was the red-room where I was trained. Steve didn't know that, and I didn't intend to tell him. Maybe he'd figure out if we went in, maybe I'd break down right there and that would be very awkward, but somehow I was reluctant to tell him. Maybe I didn't want to tell him because I was sure he'd try to stop me to go in there. Maybe it was something different, like me hating to share my past with others. I think now that it was an equal mix of both. The only people who knew exactly where I was trained at that time were Clint and Fury.