latibule
(n.)
a hiding place; somewhere no one could ever find you

•••

"London... its just the place I live to be. It reminds me of the light in my dark place."

•••

Seeing London again was an entirely new experience for Natalia. The first time she had meandered the snowy sidewalks of the capital of England, it had been Christmas Day, two years ago in 1950.

The sky had been dark and the stars had shone through the falling snow. It was cold and dry, which had reminded her of Russia. There were bright and beautiful decorations of scarlet red, shining gold, pine green, and luminous silver hung tastefully in every place that was able to support such extravagant things. There were marvelously decorated Christmas trees in the windows of every shop and twinkling lights hung aglow on every snow-kissed rooftop. The landscape was in celebration. The streets were empty after the long day's celebrations and everyone had retired for a long, peaceful night's rest. And in the distance, the happy beats of parties and soft lulls of hymns could be heard by the listening ear.

And now, the air was warm and humid. The storm had died down a bit, but rain still sprinkled freely. In every patch of grass, vegetation flowered at it finest. Dogwoods had bloomed and oaks were as green as an Irish landscape. Daffodils, primroses, and violets were scattered around the city, whether they were in pots or surrounding the trees.

large bells chimed in the distance as smiling people and chattering families bustled about in their spring Sunday attire. Stores were open, large windows broadcasting their goods, whether they be clothes or spring decorations. Bakeries, diners, and cafes had their door propped open, letting the sooth, inviting odoors disperse in the afternoon air.

Men dressed in sharp suits could be seen entering and exiting doctors' and dentists' offices and banks with a briefcase in hand and stylish hat on the top of their head.

Cars of all shapes, sizes, and colors honked and rumbled about the roughly used London streets. Some people were in hurry, anxious to get to where they needed to be, while others strolled with leisure. Natalia observed couples walking hand in hand. She watched fathers hoist their young children onto their shoulder as mothers looked lovingly upon them. She also saw busy men and women who ran about with hands full and worried, yet determined faces as a result of jobs and errands thrusted upon them.

She watched how all these people went about their day, whether they were silent and determined, distant and distracted, jovial and talkative, or angry and scolding. All these people had a story. They all had a story just as interesting as hers. Just as interesting as James's. And now they were all interconnected. Today. Right here. Right now.

What she was observing for the first time was pure and unaltered life at its most beautiful. Now that she was free, she took the time to observe the freedom in others. The way family, responsibility, love, and hurt drove life on. She finally was forced to think about herself and James. Now that they were free, they had to decide were they would find themselves among all these different people with lives that have poetic meaning and interesting stories.

Would they blend in the busy bodies with jobs and a reputation? Not likely. As James had already said on the boat. Anything like that would have to wait. Would they fall in with the happy families? No. Gaining connections and bonds was the absolute last thing they could do while on the run. Would they become the next couple of beggars on the street corner who gain the reputation of either a sob story or someone who is too lazy to work for a living? Natalia certainly didn't want that.

She finally concluded as she looked around at all the sights of London that she and James would have to fit in by creating their own. They didn't have to have a family or a job or a reputation. Natalia was sure that all they needed was to simply exist under the jurisdiction of only each other.

She looked at James, feeling the happiness spread through her cheeks and smiled. She smiled because in her mind: it was over. She smiled because she no longer needed to live the fantasy James had described. They were their own fantasy. This place was their fantasy. And this light ounce of freedom was their escape.

He smiled back and this time, she knew that it was real. She knew that he was thinking the same thing she was.

"We've got to buy a place to live while we're here. It needs to be more permanent that a motel, but less so than home," James told her, placing a hand on her back.

"We've also got to get some clothes. Ours stand out. They're raggedy and used," Natalia added.

"You're right," James agreed, looking down at their clothes. James wore torn, worn cotton trousers that had a hole on the back of his left knee where Natalia had shot him. There were held up with suspenders that were wearing thin over a dirty, white button up. His shoes' soles had worn slick.

Natalia wore the same threadbare striped, high-waisted flow skirt she she had worn with the same tucked in the same shabby white shirt with the Peter Pan collar. Her shoes' soles were just as slick as James's and her heels were actually wearing to a nub from the exponential amount of walking they had done. And the fact they were both wearing backpacks was definitely strange.

They turned into one of the cheaper looking shops, the bell chiming happily as the light door swung open. Without a word, they split up to quickly grab a fresh, more common outfit they could exchange for their rags.

As Natalia was checking for size of a leather  heel that was laced instead of slip-on, the shop attendant approached her. She was a short, portly woman with a beautiful face and a welcoming smile.

"Would you like any help?" she asked sweetly. Natalia smiled politely and shook her head. It was time for her to use her talents here in the real world.

"I'm fine, thank you," she answered in an English accent and with a polite wave of her hand.

"Whew!" the shop attendant hollered while laughing. "Have you been on a boat?"

"Yes, ma'am, I have," Natalia laughed. "It's where we lost all our things. I don't smell, do I?"

"No, you just smell like the water," she assured. "You said you lost all your things?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Natalia. "My husband and I. They were all stolen while were on the boat traveling home," she revealed falsely, pointing over at James, who had already gotten half of his items together.

The shop attendant gasped, one hand on her large chest and another over her open mouth. She looked at James who was watching the situation from the distance and back to Natalia. "That's horrible," she sympathized. James couldn't help but smiled at his grown up spy.

"There are some horrible people in the world," said Natalia with a defeated nod. Ironic.

"Well— to show you that there are also some good people in the world, allow me to give you each two outfits, no charge," she suggested, placing a friendly hand on Natalia's shoulder.

"No. I can't let you do that," Natalia countered, placing her hand affably on hers, even though this very moment was her goal of the conversation Natalia had nursed. She was a spy. Why shouldn't she use her abilities to get by?

The shop attendant shook her head. "I insist. Bring your dear husband over here and let's see what we're can do."

"Thank you, miss," Natalia credited, taking her hand in her two and shaking it gingerly.  "God bless you."

"It the least I can do for such young people with so little," she assured, pulling James onto the tailor's stand and began to measure him. Natalia and James shared a knowing look as they received their two well fitted outfits that would surely blend into the bustling streets of London for no cost at all.

They didn't bother wearing the new clothes until they found a place to stay. It took almost three days, but they did find a place that was better than nothing. It was located in the lesser a portion of London. It wasn't shabby, but it wasn't magnificent. They apartment required rent. James and Natalia hoped to earn extra money to pay for such as jobs that had been picked up by immigrants over the years. James would find a place to build houses and Natalia would find a job as a maid.

For now, they just had to find a way to change. James hair had now grown to his chin. He was going to keep it that length, for that was good enough disguise. The Red Room would look for the Winter Soldier that left them not the one with long hair. Natalia cut off a bit of her hair and bleached it, seeing as how red was the most unique rarity of the hair colors that existed. She couldn't risk her hair being what gave them away.

After they finished, They looked like average citizens of London simply trying to find their way in a new place full of opportunities.

"I like your red hair better," James commented, as he and his "wife" strolled hand in hand on the dirt path between seas of trees in Green Park. The spring mad the park so beautiful. Flowers bloomed everywhere. The looming oaks that roofed the park provided a handsome shade from the soft glow of the sun.

"I like your hair shorter," Natalia came back. He laughed.

"No you don't," he reminded.

"You got me," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.

"And you also like your red hair better," James pointed out again.

"I do," agreed Natalia, pushing up her curls. "I hate that I had to color it."

He nodded sadly. "It was just too big of a risk."

Natalia's eyes light up as if she had discovered an idea. "We should bleach your hair!"

He smiled unenthusiastically. "I don't think so," he said cautiously, putting his hand on his head.

Natalia clicked her tongue looking suspiciously up at James. "I don't know, J. If I were you, I wouldn't sleep tonight."

"You'd better not bleach my hair Natalia Alianovna," he threatened.

"Or what?"

James crossed his arms in mock pride. "You know very well what I can do."

Natalia did the same, mocking him. "You know very well what I can do."

"You're a piece of work, you know that right?" James asked, putting his arm around her shoulder. She smiled and leaned her head back into him in mock innocence.

"Yeah, but I'm your piece of work."

And that's how they spend the rest of their day. Together in on of the most beautiful places in the world as they talked about things that didn't even matter, just like any couple would have the luxury of doing. If only it could last a little longer.

The warm spring breeze blew from behind, flowing through the leaves, through their hair. The fresh spring ammonia filled Natalia's senses. In her heart, she knew she could be lost here forever. This place, whether it was literal or not, would always be her latibule. To escape, all she had to do was let her mind wander here. To London. To Green Park. Even to the idea of Christmas. To James. This was her latibule.

Dont forget to vote/ comment ;)