Her Prisoner

Chapter 6

A couple of days later, Romanoff is back — after knocking and asking if she was welcome. But soon, their chess game is interrupted by an impromptu visit.

Colonel Petranov appears at the door with a wide and disquieting smile. Romanoff did not seem to have expected his visit either. She stands up and goes to sit in the armchair in the corner of the room and crosses her legs.

"Captain, you have nearly been with us for three months," the Colonel starts, walking up to him. "And, eager to be a good host, I have made not to leave any of your needs unfulfilled. And one of the reasons I came here today was to thank you in person for your first successful mission with us."

He pulls the chair Romanoff has just given up for him to sit next to Steve. He leans in to feign some kind of companionable bond between them. He adds in a lower voice: "it has recently hit me that I may have failed at my duty and not have fulfilled all of your needs."

He smirks, puzzlingly. He then turns towards the door and calls out in Russian. The door opens from outside, held by an agent. A slender and lithe silhouette steps into the room with the clicking sound of high heels on the floor.

Steve frowns and looks at her. The young woman, with long and bright blonde falling straight over her shoulders and framing a sharp and delicate jaw, stands obediently in the middle of the room in a navy, and noticeably too thin layered for the season, raincoat and black tights.

"Look at her, Captain. A true gem, isn't she?" the Colonel erupts enviously. "Our country can boast from having quite gorgeous such as the one standing here. I'm sure you've never seen women like this in America?" She has the brightest blue eyes he has ever seen, and her full lips are slightly more colored than her sharp cheekbones. "An ethereal beauty."

He looks over at Romanoff in perplexity. She is watching the girl with an unreadable expression, silent. He wonders if she knew about this, although he doesn't dare guess what 'this' is.

The Colonel firmly gives the girl instructions. She meekly unbuttons her coat, takes it off and drops it on the nearest chair. She is wearing a close-fitted, off shoulder red dress that immediately brings her cheeks more color.

She smiles. "Hello, Captain. Me name eez Irina," she says.

"Her English isn't so good but I'm sure she'll be willing to be some useful words," the Colonel says then loudly snorts at his saucy joke. Steve shoots him a look of pure disdain. Petranov doesn't seem to notice and presses his hand on his shoulder. "If you're a little shy, I can have the surveillance camera turned off for the next couple of hours."

Romanoff uncrosses her legs. Steve's gaze falls on her like an activated magnet. It follows her as she gets up and walks quietly to the door without a glance at anyone. She brushes past the woman like she does not exist and reaches for the door handle. She then opens it and soon disappears.

But Steve's eyes are still on the door, looking at where she was just a moment ago.

"Unless, your fantasies are always filled with another woman," the Colonel purrs. He has a salacious smile. He whispers again, "just say it, and I shall try to have a word with her about it."

His look of disdain has evolved into one of pure hatred. It has become sharper, and it has taken a shape. It has stopped being abstract. Listening to him trying to sell her out like merchandise after raising her as a daughter fills him with disgust.

"I am not interested," he answers coolly.

The Colonel smirks and squeezes his shoulder. He lightly slaps his hands over his lap and stands up.

"Well, Irina is here for two hours. Feel free to enjoy her company as it pleases you. I don't know," he begins then trails off and picks one of the chess pieces between his fingers. "Maybe some chess?"

He sniggers and walks over to the door, ogling the girl like a tempting piece of meat, then leaves the room.

She smiles at him and waits obediently.

The next day, he is expecting Romanoff. She comes at the usual time and sits at the table. Both are quiet, muted by the memory of the awkward moment from the day before, although she does not bear the same stern expression as him.

He cannot talk to her. He feels humiliated. And he doesn't dare to ask. He wonders if she knew about it; even worse, he dreads to wonder whether she approved of it or was the one to suggest it. Eventually, the need to know takes over.

"Did you know about it?" he asks bitterly.

Romanoff looks him straight in the eye.

"He mentioned it a few days ago but I spoke against it," she answers.

She is calm but earnest. He searches in her eyes for some hint of dishonesty but does not find any. It somehow relieves him to know she wasn't in on it.

"So, how did things go with Irina?" she takes on the girl's accent and roll the 'r'. He takes it as her attempt to lighten the mood. "You know, I must admit —although I kind of expected it— I was amazed to see how you categorically turned it down. Many would have jumped on the occasion. It seems like your outmoded gallantry dies hard."

He rolls his eyes. "If you're here to make fun of me, do it quickly and leave."

She smirks. "Actually, it's over. I promise."

She draws a little cross on her chest with her finger. She lets the silence settle down for a little while; long enough to let the facetious atmosphere wane.

"I brought you something," she eventually speaks again in a soft voice.

He gives her a quizzical look.

Romanoff pulls her arm out from under the table and lays her hand, palm down, on the table.

"I came across it very recently and I thought it should be returned to its rightful owner."

She slides her hand across the table and stops when it is close enough. She then delicately lifts her hand, like a jewelry case being open to reveal the gem lying beneath.

He can hardly hold back a gasp of surprise. There is a lump in his throat. He stares at it then eventually voices, unable to take his eyes off of it: "I thought that was gone."

The corner of her mouth rises in a slightly bashful smile. His fingers cautiously reach for it and puts the object to rest in his palm. He then lifts the lid, expectant and afraid, and he finds the photograph of Peggy in the same state that he remembered to be the last time he had a look at it that evening of 1944 before going into the ice. He now begins to perceive how far away that was.

He thought he would never see her again, but there is her smiling face in the palm of his hand. His vision gets blurred and watery.

Romanoff begins to stand up but he looks up at her whilst his thumb is stroking the familiar curves of his compass.

"Don't...you don't have to go," he calls.

She smiles at him. "Of course I do. I shouldn't be here right now."

She walks up to the door and leaves him to his reunion with Peggy.