Her Prisoner

Chapter 10

He follows her without the ounce of a doubt. She leads and he goes along. He trusts her special agent skills to get them away and he has faith in her to do what is right to keep him safe.

Natasha runs and never slows down like she has done it before. She is fast, methodical and efficient. Her breathing is fast-paced but not frantic. She looks like she could go on for hours.

She slides down snowy sloping grounds like a feather then speeds up the pace again.

After half an hour, she takes them into a forest. She ventures into the deepest part of it swiftly and with ease.

After a while, she slows down the pace. It is less urgent but guarded. She eventually stops and crouches down before a tree. She slips a hand into the cavity at the base of the trunk and pulls a bag out.

She opens it and takes out a heavy coat, then guns and munitions. She hands one to him. She also gets a cellphone out, money from different currencies.

"How come you had this, here?" he asks

"I'm a spy. I have many of those scattered all around the globe. For rainy days," she comments with a smirk.

She puts on the coat and zips it up. "They're on our trail right now. They will assume we are heading South to the closest village, which means a tactic team is heading there as we speak."

He nods. "So, what do we do?"

"We keep moving across the woods then head West when the snow starts to fall to cover our tracks. It's longer but the safest route we got."

She zips the backpack and puts it on.

"Why did you decide to help me?" he asks.

She adjusts the straps and looks up at him. "You were right," she begins, staring into his eyes. "I could let you out if I really wanted to. And I realized I wanted to. Sorry for the little act the other day, by the way. We were being watched and I had to be convincing."

"When did you realize you wanted to," he says quietly.

She grins matter-of-factly. "When I understood I couldn't take that shot."

They watch each other in silence, exchanging a dozen thoughts with a simple gaze.

He grins back at her. "Thank you," he utters the words softly.

And although he had doubted it at times, he finds solace in the confirmation he was right to put trust in her. As irrational — insane — it might have been to let himself believe it, Steve eventually came to the point he saw a friend in Natasha. A reliable one. One he could risk his own freedom for, because his guts, or maybe a little voice in his head, have been telling him he could trust her. Despite the facts, despite the odds. He overlooked who she was and her surroundings, and through all these thick smoke screens, he saw Natasha.

She is the one he is following now. Not the Russian assassin, nor the Colonel's protegee.

Natasha.

______________________________________________

She is no longer running now but still maintains a quick pace. The air grows cooler. She was correct — it is only a matter of time before the snow falls.

Natasha is silent for the most part of the journey. She seems pensive, enwrapped in tyrannous thoughts. He knows what she must be going through and he feels he has no right to step in it. Closely beside her, he stays away from her internal turmoil, mindful not to encroach on her privacy.

They walk relentlessly for hours from plain to plain — it seems Russia is an incessant series of the same white landscape.

Natasha tells him they will be safe when they reach St-Petersburg. It is still a very long way, though. The nearest small town is miles away.