BLACK WIDOW

saudade

saudade
(n.)
a deep, nostalgic, and melancholic longing for something and/or someone often accompanied by the denied fact that what one wants will never come back

•••

"i could keep you safe. they are all afraid of me."

•••

Natalia checked her holsters to make sure all her weapons were in place and at the ready. When she was positive that they were, she disappeared into the dark, as James had taught her. This meant that he had surely done the same. Unless he was waiting on her to kill her.

She let her leg muscles contract as tight as she could muster, then sprung up to the tree branch above her. She decided it would be better to attack from above. It would be better that way.

The cold, dry air reminded her of Moscow. Her home. The smell of the dirt and pines, however, sent her mind in a different direction. It hadn't even snowed in the area yet. She found herself missing the snow many times.

Natalia silent crawled over the branches and under vines, going tree to tree, just as a spider would. Funny, since she was known as the Black Widow. She had to hurry and kill the Winter Soldier before he could get to Howard and te Super Soldier Serum.

Then her mind came to a complete halt. Kill him? It was the unspoken truth that that was the only way to get her job done. But she hadn't thought of it. Could she really kill James? Her eyes grew wide and sweat began to appear on the back of her neck.

She went from tree to tree until she was finally there. She spotted his bike. And so much to her surprise, he was there too, leaning against his motorcycle, his metal arm propped up on his abdomen as he quietly traced the manufacturing lines in his titanium arm.

He was so precious. So mistreated. But he was dangerous. Unstable. And it wasn't even his fault. He was an evil thing against his own will. Natalia looked him up and down. He hadn't changed much since the 50's. He had aged as much as she had. Maybe only a year or two. He wore a new suit. No scratches or holes. His boots had no scuffs. But the suit was different. It reminded her of a straight jacket.

His holsters were different too. At one time, they lay across his chest diagonally. Now, only one was strapped across his chest like chains. And over his face, he wore a black mask molded perfectly to his fine face. Natalia didn't see a reason to put a mask over the lower half of he face. Howard would recognize him by his eyes.

It was a muzzle, Natalia realized. The Black tinted goggles he wore: those were to protect his identity. She continued to study her former lover. His hair was longer and bit unhealthier. He was smaller too. Slightly malnourished. But she knew that he was no less dangerous.

She remembered the day she met him. The way they took to each other immediately. How much he suffered. How he understood her. She could feel him embrace again. She could taste his lips. She could feel him move inside her. Feel his love and support. His constant concern for her welfare.

She pulled out her pistol with a deafening silence. She felt her heart beating in her ear. Sweat running down her back. Eyes brimming with tears. She wasn't sure she could do it.

The higher she held her gun at the man before her, the more memories flashed before her eyes. Everything her taught her. When they danced. When they talked about anything for hours on end. The few hours of sleep that she had ever gotten while she was in Russia were when she laid with him. The only laughs she could remember were something he had said or done. The only smiles she ever expressed were because of him.