A Different Call

A Winter Knight

A.N. Sorry for the lack of updates I'm in university right now and finals were a lot this year, but I hope this chapter makes up for it. Also, let me know if you want another chapter of Bucky and Nat in the Red Room before we jump back to present time. Warning of referenced non-con and antisemitism.

Natalia was walking back to the dorms when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. Natalia could see wrinkles and few liver spots from her peripherals and knew that it belonged to the headmistress. Natalia couldn't think of a reason that Madame B would need to talk her as Natalia had been working with the American for the past two weeks......unless Yelena had run and snitched about Natalia's bragging in the dorms.

"You've been requested for the night," Madame said, not offering any more information, though Natasha could supply some from prior experience.

Being requested meant that it was someone of high rank – although it wouldn't be Ivan, he would grab her himself – as guards couldn't request any of the girls, though they did have the habit of luring girls to their bedroom with the promise of extra food. Natalia really didn't want to spend the night entertaining some old Russian man as she had been sore from her lessons with the American, not that she gave any hints to the pain that she was going through. But those men did have better beds than the ones that the girls had in their dorms where one had to be careful to not sleep on any exposed spring, and at times they were given food by whoever they were entertaining.

Natalia let Madame steer her down a set of halls that Natalia was not used to, which was odd as Natasha was one of the girls that was requested quite often – a combination of her skills in the program and her lineage.

"He will be here shortly," Madame said, as she shut the door leaving Natalia alone in the room. She never was a woman of many words.

Natalia examined the room and was shocked by how bare and industrial the room was, it seemed like a larger and less crowded version of the girls' room, nothing like the styles of rooms she was normally requested to.

Nevertheless, Natalia began to follow her routine for these situations and became to strip herself of her uniform, wishing that she could magically make the bruises that dotted her skin fade away from existence. Not that Natalia despised her bruises, they were a mark that should you survived as well as a reminder for what you did wrong, but she did hate that the men tended to give them more attention during meetings like this. After folding her clothes and setting them in the corner in the order that she had been taught by her instructors -pants on time, as people didn't tend to report a woman in only a bra and it's easier to pull on a shirt while running. Natasha sat on the bed, underclothes still on as she wasn't sure what this particular visitor preferred.

After a few minutes of sitting and trying to ignore the goose skin that was forming on her arms the door to the room finally creaked open, allowing the possibility for noise from the hallway to penetrate the otherwise silent room. It wasn't from the hallway that noise came though, but rather form the girl sitting on the bed and the long-haired manned standing in the hallway, though the latter quickly shut the door upon seeing the pre-teen sitting on the bed.

The Soldat grabbed the clothes that Natalia had set in the corner and threw them at their owner, with surprising skill given that he would not look at the young girl. "Put those on," He barked.

Natalia sat there stunned as she had never had a man tell her to put more clothes on, but quickly recovered and scrabbled to do what the man had said, hoping not to incur the anger that she had been exposed to during training.

A few minutes passed before the solider spoke again, "Are you dressed?"

"Yes sir," Natalia responded, now standing by the foot of the bed, eye cast down as though her feet were the most interesting things in the world. Natalia took a moment to close her eyes and prayed to a God that she didn't believe in that these were not her last moments on Earth.

The room was silent until a cold metal hand was curled around Natalia's chin and the frightened girl let out a quick gasp, that would have gone unheard if the only other person in the room wasn't standing inches in front of Natalia.

"It's ok, I'm not here to hurt you." The man's voice was rough as though it hadn't been used for years, though from the way that he interacted with Natalia as well as his own handlers the idea of not talking for years didn't seem too far-fetched.

"If you are not here to kill me and you're not here to have sex with me, then what are you here for?" The red-headed asked, with more bravado than she should have been sporting.

The American didn't strike at her for the insubordination but rather mustered a smirk onto his face, "What is your name?"

"Natalia." While the pre-teen didn't know the American's name, she had thought he knew who she was, everyone except the other widows had access to all of Natalia's information. "A-and you didn't answer my question."

This time a chuckle was pulled out of the metal-armed man, "I wanted to help you. I heard one of the other trainers speaking about what he wanted to do to you." The brunette moved to sit on the bed before patting a spot across from him, an invitation that Natalia accepted. "Something in me got angry at that and so I tried to do what I could to fix it. Good thing you are such a good student and they decided to reward me."

"It made you angry?" The disbelief was heavy in the girl's voice and would have been heartbreaking if it were not for the undercurrent of venom and caution that accompanied the statement.

The man nodded, "Something inside me wanted to tear the man apart for talking about you like that, almost like an instinct. And before you ask, I don't know where it came from, let's not forget that you aren't the only one that is brainwashed, at least you know your own name."

"You don't know your name?" The man shook his head, long hair getting in the way of his eyes. After a few moments of silence, the young girl spoke up again a glimmer of determination in her eyes. "Yasha."

"What?" The man asked, he knew Russian but not enough to understand the word that had just left the young redhead's mouth.

"I can call you Yasha, it fits you somehow, although it is linked to the Jews so I can understand if you don't want it." While those outside the Red Room's walls may not follow of the beliefs of the old Soviet regime, inside the stone-cold walls the cold war was burning hotter than ever. Natalia had spent may days hearing about the Jews and how their greediness was what ruined the communist government and how their untrustworthiness led them to sell secrets to the west.

"Yasha is fine," Yasha dropped his voice, "But you must only use it when it is you and I understood?"

The young girl nodded, undoing the fragile ponytail that her hair had been in.

"Good now come here." The man patted next to where he was sitting, and Natalia crawled over the bed. The man shifted his body so that his torso was parallel with the redhead.

"What are you doing?" She asked, a curiosity that she hadn't had in a long time bright in her voice.

"Braiding your hair, it will make your life so much easier." The man answered, a caring tone in his voice.

"Where did you learn?" Natalia asked once the man was done and her hair secured with a rubber band.

"I don't know, maybe the person I was before knew." Yasha laid back, making himself comfy on the bed. "Now go to sleep you'll need to be awake for your lesson tomorrow."

The pre-teen groaned but followed the instructions none the less, curling up to the soldier's side before drifting off to a peaceful sleep.