nepenthe
(n.)
something the can help you forget grief and suffering

•••

"I could see the beauty in his darkness. But he could see the darkness in my beauty."

•••

"Natalia," whispered Yelena from her bed as the woman who had locked her in her handcuffs walked out the door.

Natalia looked over to her friend in a slight panic. Yelena could not see her, however, since it was dark. But in the months that she had been working the four extra hours with the Winter Soldier, Yelena had always been asleep when Natalia arrived and she could easily avoid the question. The Soldier had told her that Madame B wanted her extra lessons to be kept a secret. And Yelena had been suspicious since the first night.

Natalia had been successfully avoiding the question, but now, she may not be so lucky.

"Why do you say behind for so long every night?" Yelena asked, completely confirming Natalia's thoughts.

She wanted to answer in a way that would confuse, but it only made her think. Why did she stay?

She didn't need the extra lessons. She would still be ahead whether she took them or not.

And the day the idea was presented to her, it seemed like a pretty good idea.

But the truth? The truth was, she loved it. She loved the Soldier's company and he seemed to love hers. He seemed to appreciate how she treats him. She notices more and more how cruelly the other trainers along with Dr. Zola And Colonel Luchkov treat him. And all the girls are afraid of him. And in all honesty, she was exactly the same. All the girls-except for Yelena-seemed to cower at her feet. And all the trainers-except the Winter Soldier-treated her like gum at the bottom of a shoe.

She didn't even want to think about Ivan. She'd rather him abuse her like the rest instead of completely ignoring her. The Soldier has to teach her how to use the spy gear in effect of Ivan not caring whether she lived or died now.

And why wasn't she afraid of the Winter Soldier? She wasn't at all sure. She had thought about it, but could never know if she was really right. He couldn't hold his guard around her. Maybe he was the one who was afraid. Around the other girls and the trainers, he was cold, secluded, and angry. Who wouldn't be afraid? Who wouldn't hate?

But around her, she saw something else. Whatever softness his eyes held the key to, Natalia was the one to open it.

Natalia didn't hate Yelena's presence. She had grown accustomed. Yelena was much like her, only she was nosy. But the Soldier! He was quite the opposite. Behind closed doors, he was so different from Natalia. So inviting. At times, Natalia found herself hating the world and her life. She is cold, untrusting, and angry. The Red in her heart begged to bleed out.

But the Soldier! Without his guard, he was warm. Talkative. Sometimes even humorous. They would have conversations as he taught her how to use all the spy gear. They would even exchange words while sparring. But no matter how often she asked, he would never talk about what she wanted him to. She wanted to know how he ended up here. He was always so sad. He did not choose this life like Natalia did. The only time he would ever smile was when it was necessary in a conversation. In fact, most of the time, he was frowning, his face, vacant with all emotion. But not in a hostile way. He seemed dead. As if he had already lived a life and now was in Hell. Maybe that was the case.

He seemed dead inside until Natalia spoke. Then something would come alive. Something that had been buried deeply into his mind.

Natalia knew she was right. She just didn't know how. The Soldier was once a happy, warm man that probably loved to do things like dancing. But somehow he was here. What a waste, she thought.

And why her? Why would he open up around her alone? It made absolutely no sense.

There was no doubt in this world that she was cold hearted. She could not help this because she was raised to be this icy creature, this being void of emotion. Alexi had attempted to heal her cold soul, but his death made the ice grow thicker. The slaughter of Anastasia built up a steel wall. The seizure of her body and mind dropped it into a locked box. And the murder of the only child she will ever have wrapped it in heavy chains. Her soul was within an impregnable fortress of solitude—so difficult to reach you could swear it didn't exist. Yet his opposite personality in his perfectly corresponding situation drew her in. His gaze was slowly picking at the chains.

So how would she answer this question? The way Madame B saw it, it was a secret that could never come to light. It looked like he was giving her extra lessons to put her ahead of the group. But Natalia wanted what it actually was to remain secret. And she figured the Winter Soldier did too.

But what it actually was? A mystery—at least to Natalia.

What a perfect time to utilize her newly obtained espionage skills.

"I dance," whispered back Natalia.

"You dance?" she asked. "Why?"

"Before the program, ballet was my life. I hadn't danced in years before I started staying late in the studio,"

"Dancing was only a cover for me," Yelena said, her tone growing sad. "I never actually learned to dance."

Natalia felt nothing when she knew she should have. She lied to her closest friend. And now she's opened up to her. Yelena trusted Natalia. And Natalia lied.

But it did not affect her frozen, locked away heart in the slightest.

"I love dancing," Natalia said dreamily, not lying at this point.

"I wish I would have been introduced into the program the way you were. I've never known anything else,"

"I don't regret it, though," Yelena stated. Natalia had lied. And she knew that Yelena wanted her to say she did. So that she could agree. But she swallowed her emotions, not wanting to seem unpatriotic.

"Neither do I," she lied, emotion heavy in her voice. Natalia sighed and turn away from Yelena, avoiding any feeling she could develop.

The next day, she went through her usual routine, only having one moment to look forward to. Life in the Red Room may have been brutal, terrifying even, but it was boring.

3 girls have fallen to the brutality of the training. Sparring for the kill hadn't started yet. But everyone was one edge about it. It could happen anytime. And the Winter Soldier has been growing more and more tired it seemed. As if he hadn't gotten any sleep since she had first met him. The bags under his eyes were growing more and more profound and his movements had gotten slower. She was scared for him. Throughout the day, she watched him. She couldn't wait to spend the four hours with him to see if she could help. It had never seemed so bad before.

She waited and waited, taking on the training sessions with ease until finally, reaching the part of her day that she could truly enjoy.

"And good afternoon to you, Natalia," the Soldier said reaching his hand out to her so that she could climb into the ring easier.

"So what are we learning today, Soldier?" Natalia smiled.

"Sit down," he ordered. Natalia did as she was told and sat down, the Soldier doing the same. She looked at him expectantly, ready to soak up anything he may have to say.

"Accents," he said. "I have observed that this will not be in your curriculum even though it is vital to your success as a spy,"

"Accents," Natalia said thoughtfully, now fully realizing that she possessed slight Russian accent and his-American. Even more interesting. Ivan mede her watch and repeat the words spoken in Snow White and the Seven Dwarves so that she could maybe lose her Russian accent. She had done well, but had gained it back when Ivan left her at the Bolshoi

"I recognize that thoughtful look. What, did you not notice your own? You need become more observant, Natalia,"

"I think you're just paranoid," she teased, knowing he was speaking truth.

Usually he would reply with another snarky comment, but he remained serious. "Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature."

His unusual seriousness in this situation helped Natalia would hold the phrase close to her heart in the years to come.

"So... the accents?"

He nodded. "The first and foremost accents you must learn are English and American. English is the most common language in the world and the two accents I mentioned before are the two that will make your language sound more natural."

"Why do you have an American accent?" Natalia asked, mocking his American accent.

And she saw the sadness rise in his eyes again. She could see he was hesitant about speaking. Natalia didn't know what made him trust her the way he did or vise versa.

"I-I don't think..." he stopped for a moment. "I don't think I am Russian. I know nothing of what I was before I woke up years ago, but I keep seeing things... hearing things. My accent. My knowledge. I-I just... I don't know,"

Natalia looked up at him in pity. He was a lost soul. Too far. There was no getting out of this. Whatever this was. Maybe it was hell. An endless loop of training and missions. Seeing the worst of the world. Causing the worst in the world. Being the worst in the world.

"I wish I knew your name, Soldier," Natalia said sadly as she placed a empathetic hand in his knee.

He looked around, his eyes beginning to cloud. "I have no name," he spoke, complying to the people who owned him as far as Natalia knew.

"Everyone has a name, Soldier. Let us find yours," she suggested scooting closer. He looked uncomfortable in this situation. But also happy. He just wasn't used to it, she could tell.

"How would we do that?" asked the Soldier.

"Well... you have an American accent. You are Caucasian. I can see hints of your old personality. You seemed to be fun and humorous. You believe in life after death. So one could only guess you were just a regular young man from New York or something."

He looked confused. And proud. Probably confused that this much was known about him. But proud that he had taught Natalia how to do that.

"And usually American men have slightly generic names..." he said slowly, putting the puzzle together.

"Yes," Natalia said, celebrating. "So we can just go through the list of names and see which one sounds familiar to you,"

"Just because I probably have a common name doesn't mean you'll be able to guess it. There are... you know, a lot of names," he said uneasily.

"I'll start," Natalia said, repositioning her legs. "John."

He shook his head.

"Jacob." Not it.

"Robert?" Nope.

"Michael?" No.

"William?" No.

"David?" No.

"Steve?"

And then something flickered in his eyes. Realization? Remembrance? There was no way for her to know. But he didn't seem like he'd have that name.

"Steve? Huh, you don't look like a Steve," she commented, voicing her thoughts from a moment before

But he shook his head. "No. I... just think I knew a Steve."

She looked upon him with sadness. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if her mind didn't function the way she wanted it too. If she could know the things she knew. Or remember that people she loved.

"Well how about George?"

He shook his head.

"James?"

He looked up a her in surprise.

"That's it."

"That's it?" she asked excitedly.

"Yes!" he smiled.

"James!" she exclaimed happily, attacking him with a tight hug.

He hugged Natalia back, the happiest she had ever seen him.

Once they broke apart, he looked at her, seriousness resumed. "You still have to call me Soldier-at least when people are around."

The mood dimmed almost instantaneously. "I know," Natalia said sadly.

"Why do you do this?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"You treat me like a person. Like I am important. I don't think—well I can't remember a time where someone cared. Or spoke to me as if I was a human instead of a weapon."

"Oh," Natalia said, not really knowing how to respond. "I guess I understand. Everyone treats me as if I were only an object to be used. And those who don't... they cower at my feet. But you. I see that you're dangerous. You're outer shell is dark and brooding. But really, you are a human. Not like me. Deep down, you are a sweet, caring man, trapped in a life you didn't ask for. I don't truly understand what you are or what they do to you, but I want you to know that I can see past that."

She stopped for a minute, gathering herself. "And before you get hurt by too closely associating yourself with me, I want to know that you can see past my beauty. That you can see that I am not like you. Deep down... I am a true monster."

He shook his head. "You are not a monster. You are dangerous. Your beauty does a good job of hiding that. But I can see past the danger. You are not a danger to me. And I want to help you."

"I want to help you too," she told him.

He smiled the small smile that was his equivalent of jumping and squealing with joy. "We can do this. We will grow."

They were two outcasts that would thrive as one, and the more time spent with him in the following months, she understood more and more that he was her nepenthe. Her escape for the cruel world and its people.

Perhaps she was also his.

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