Her Prisoner

Chapter 3

Training began shortly after their last chess game. Three or four times a week, he is escorted to the training room where he goes through a serious of various workouts, from new hand-to-hand combat techniques to live fire exercise with modern weaponry.

Romanoff is always there to supervise. And the Colonel comes from time to time both to gauge the promptness of the training and not to let his presence be forgotten.

Although it is just trading a cage for another, those afternoons have soon become a time when Steve can let off steam. How many times did he strike the punching bag till it would break open thinking about his captivity? He generally sends the bag flying farther away when he punches thinking about his past life. This would forever remain his greatest pain.

"How are you sleeping, Cap?" Romanoff once asks him as she stood beside the punching bag.

He feigns not understanding and keeps on punching. He always trains till physical exhaustion. And for the first time since waking up in the new millennium, he had a full night sleep.

"There is this thing called PTSD that veterans, or anyone else for that matter, can suffer from. You've been through a lot and it would be ludicrous to think it could not concern you."

"I read about it," he answers. He once found a book about it in his personal library.

She nods slowly. "So you know, PTSD or not, how sleep can become a tedious chore. Staring for hours at the blank ceiling, watching the moon rays dance across as your mind is being assaulted by restless memories."

He halts and looks at her. He can tell she has been there, too. "It's happened to you, too?"

She furtively looks away then back at him. "Yes. I wish—," she interrupts herself abruptly. She probes him for a little while, gauging whether she should finish her sentence or not. "I wish I hadn't gone through this alone. If you have one of those nights, you can ask the guard to come and get me. I'll keep you company."

He holds the bag steady. He is not sure to understand the motive behind her proposition. "What makes you think I would want you to be the person to be here with me if it happens?"

Her pupils search into his. "Because I'm all you've got," she says matter-of-factly. "And because when it comes to insomnia, I know that any company is better than no company."

She gives him a silent nod and walks off promptly. Part of him blames himself for being so harsh, and it is immediately followed by another part of him cursing him for blaming himself.

"Romanoff," he calls softly. Somehow, he hopes it is low enough for her not to hear it.

She turns around to look at him. "Thanks," he says.

The corner of her mouth rises very slightly and she goes away.

When Steve resumes hitting the bag, he punches it hard, sighing at himself. He must be the first idiot to ever thank his offender.

At the end of his second week of training, Romanoff leans the ropes of the ring with great nonchalance. Steve notices she is wearing the workout gear. She sends away the agent sparring with him with a simple nod.

"Want to fight me, Rogers?" she propositioned suavely. She tilts her head and arches an eyebrow. "Come on, we both know you've been dying to give me a sound thrashing."

He shakes his head and looks away from her tantalizing expression as he represses the amusement threatening to burst out. "That's not entirely...untrue," he trails off with a smirk.

She frowns. "What was that?" she exclaims with utter surprise. "Were those your teeth? And was that humor?"

"You certainly know how to be subtle about it," he comments.

"I'm nipping it in the bud before you begin to spiral into merriment."

He rolls his eyes, something he hasn't done since 1944.

She holds on the ropes and jumps over them, into the ring.

"Are you ready?" she says, adjusting the bandages wrapped around her palms.

He frowns, feeling an irrational upsurge of panic. "I'm not going to fight you," he says.

She puts a hand up to her hip. "Rogers, I'm gonna need you to cut out that outdated gallantry and try to beat the crap out of me, instead."

He begins to look for Dimitri, the agent she just sent away. Dimitri is in his early twenties and he's a nice kid. Their sparring sessions are the occasion for him to practice his English. And he admitted just the day before having some authentic collection cards of him. Steve suspects he will soon ask him to sign them. At least, when he musters the courage to do it.

"Forget about Dimitri," she reads his thoughts. "He doesn't have enough experience and he pulls his punches with you."

"Because you won't?" he asks.

She smiles deviously. "Exactly."

Steve is nervous. He's never fought a woman before, and funnily enough, he doesn't want Romanoff to be the first one. Maybe he would find it easier if it were someone he didn't spend so much with; or if it were someone he abhorred. He does not abhor Romanoff and it is a problem in itself.

"Don't worry," she says. "You won't hurt me."

He is about to protest but she runs at him. He dodges her and she goes past him. She flips around.

She attacks again but he cautiously captures her first in his hand. "I don't want to fight you."

She rolls her eyes. She bounces and clasps her legs around his torso and the back of his neck before throwing him forward to the ground.

"It would be far more satisfying if you actually showed some resistance," she breathes out, her face a few inches above his head.

"Give me time," he manages to say under her. She lifts her leg to release him.

He gets up. "How did you learn to fight like this?" He has never seen any woman (not even Peggy), — or anyone — use such combat skills.

"I did ballet," she answers matter-of-factly.

He opens his mouth, puzzled, but she attacks again before he can say anything.

After many efforts, he finally cedes and fights back. The sparring is very successful; it seems he learns to adjust to her fighting techniques. Soon, he could anticipate her next move.

He eventually takes control, and as they both to the ground, he reverses the positions and winds up on top of her.

"Are you hurt, yet?" he asks as she is catching her breath.

She smirks.

"That's very impressive, Captain." A voice calls behind them with a thick Russian accent.

Both stiffen and get to their feet. The Colonel is standing by the ropes, just where Romanoff was a while ago. He is smiling but the smile does not reach his eyes. His thick features and his square jaw give him a hard expression.

"Are you ready to get back in the field?" he asks.

"It's not like I really have a choice," he answers coolly.

The Colonel sniggers then motions Romanoff to come over. She slips between the ropes and they begin talking in Russian.

Steve can't help but notice that her demeanor has completely changed. Around the Colonel, she is the Black Widow; she is meek and obedient.

He tries to decipher but he barely understands two or three words. The Colonel's voice is firm and inflexible.

He is finishing to give his instructions and Steve catches something.

"Da, Papa," Romanoff says before saluting him with a nod and leaving the room.

This one doesn't need translation.