The Asset

Chapter 2

He was dreaming of rain. It pounded on the high tin roof, a dull roar that echoed through the empty gymnasium. The hour and the storm had been enough to draw their audience away, but he hadn't returned to quarters. He'd rather be here, in the stillness of that constant thunder, lost to the rhythm of flesh meeting flesh. Besides, no one looked twice if two operatives wanted to put in some late night training.

Natalia squared up across the ring and sent a swift kick toward his middle. He caught her ankle, smiling as she raised her eyes to his. But her face shifted, becoming older but just as beautiful, alight with the clarity of freshly etched memory. This had happened before. Had they come for him again? Was she testing him? But this was wrong. They should be in America, an underground SHIELD facility. This place was half a world away, somewhere he hadn't been in decades.

The Natalia who crouched across the ring was young again. So was he. He could feel it, a lightness of years lifted and horror yet to come. This was a memory.

"<Well?>"

"Speak English. You need the practice."

"Where are you? You look far away." She was looking at him the way she used to, seeing things about him that no one else could, things he had forgotten.

But it was when, not where. Could he tell her that he'd seen the future, that these weeks in the Red Room were the only ones they'd ever have? Could he tell her that he was her prisoner, that he'd done terrible things, that all he deserved from her in the end were weighing stares and guarded questions?

The rain drummed on. It felt so real - the cool sweat on the back of his neck, the ache in his muscles, the heat rushing through him as she crossed the ring. With her looking at him like that, he couldn't bring himself to tell her she was just a ghost.

"Do you surrender?"

He smiled. "To you? Always."

She was in his arms then, pressed hard against him, her lips finding his. The thrill of it was staggering, the danger of discovery, the passion that neither of them had expected to find in a place like this. Reality still tugged at him, but he no longer cared. One hand slid to her hip, the other tangling in her hair. She was soft beneath him, painfully so. The ache that rose in him was tinged with regret, but he could taste her, feel the heat of her as he buried his face in her neck. She moaned appreciatively, her hands sliding lower. His mouth found hers again, her laughter warm against his lips.

A blast of cold hit him full in the face. It snatched the breath from him, the wind stinging his cheeks. Rain filled his eyes. No, not rain. Snow.

Natalia was gone. He was crouched behind a tree, a knife in each hand, making his way through the forest under cover of darkness. With the falling snow, it was almost serene. But he could feel them out there in the night, the enemy just ahead, his unit waiting behind while he cleared a path. He knew these woods. Another memory, years before the last.

The Hydra base would fall tonight, one of many on their path toward victory. He hadn't survived to see the end of it, but they said they'd won. His mission was to take out the perimeter guards, swiftly and silently, to keep their approach concealed. He might not be America's favorite soldier, might not have Steve's strength or speed, but he had found other ways to prove himself.

The first guard never saw him coming. He took him from behind, wrapping him in both arms and driving his blade into the soft flesh of his throat. The snow was falling harder, white and pure, painted with a sudden splash of red. The second guard tried to fight back, but he was good, even then. This was what he'd been meant for all along.

When it was over, he stared down at them, letting the cold seep through him. His chest heaved, his breath misting before him. The forest was quiet again, the knife dripping in his hand. His good hand, both of them strong, both of them real. He'd done his job well. These men were Hydra. Considering what had happened since, he could almost believe they deserved it, that he owed them. And yet he couldn't look away.