stupefaction
(n.)
the state of being stupefied

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"can you remember who you were?"

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When she got off the plane, she made sure to follow James wherever he went, staying as far away as possible until she could find the right moment to approach him. It would definitely not be in a densely populated area such as the ones they were surrounded by, of course. She needed to get to him before he got back to Siberia. She knew that was where he was going as soon as he passed the annex in Moscow where she used to receive orders.

If she didn't intercept the Winter Soldier before he boarded a jet to Siberia, then the mission would multiply in difficulty and it would prove even more unlikely that she would ever happen to succeed.

Natalia stalked her the Winter Soldier carefully and he silently and invisibly made his way to the outskirts of the city by trailing rooftops and traveling in the shadows. The new setting that they found themselves in was a ghostly, poverty stricken area that was mostly abandoned.

Black and white sale  papers and red and gold propoganda pages flew around in the chilling, snowy wind as the old paint peeled from the old stores that contained old goods sold by old men. Old goods that probably would never be bought due to the declining, communist economy. The gray, snow colored neighborhoods were as empty and silent as a graveyard besides the few stowed away orphans and elder couples who were destined to die in the this solemn place.

But the city. The store. This was it. This should be where James boarded the Hydra jet to Siberia. This was also where Natalia can take him down. She watched through her snow caked windshield (besides where her wipers had discarded the white mess) as James stepped out of the car he was driving and walking into a small family store, now in full gear. This obviously had to be a safe place to be seen, or there was no way the Winter Soldier would let himself be seen.

This must be a base or a safe house of some sort. She got out her car quickly and bolted acorss the street to crouch beneath the window, peeking out just enough to peer in. She watched him says a few words in Russian to the store owner.

Then the store owner pulled a knob on his counter that revealed a secret door that was disguised very well behind the counter. The owner gave James a nod and sent him through.

Natalia quickly shed her our clothing to reveal her old hydra uniform that she still wore on mission. Maybe the man had outdated information as to who he should let in. Or maybe he didn't care about who he let in. As long as they had the official Hydra sigil on their arm. She also had a red star to signify the Russian flag.

Even if the man was well informed, it wouldn't matter. If he didn't let her in with ease, she'd do it with force. She didn't care how ugly it got as long as she was leaving with the serum in one hand and James in the other. And if she had to follow him to Siberia, then so be it.

She straightened her back and held her head high as she would have when she was under the jurisdiction of Russia and Hydra and entered the store with the flawless grace that was her strut.

The store owner looked her up and down, noticing her marks, along with everything she was hoping he didn't notice.

<Your uniform's a bit outdated, eh, dear?> he asked, placing his elbows on the counter and leaning forward, peering into Natalia's eyes.

<I am here with the asset. I've been lost for some years, and he has had the kindness to find me and bring me back to my rightful home,> Natalia told him, hoping it would suffice. The "store owner" peered into Natalia's eyes suspiciously.

<You're here with the Asset, yet you would in alone. He walks in alone. And he speaks nothing of you. His mission was only to bring back a serum. It had nothing at all to do with an outdated woman.>

<He found me. Saved me from myself. Don't you know who I am, sir?> asked the spy. She eyed him with curiosity and apprehension. Would he fall for her lies?

<Hmm,> he said slowly, looking deeply into the eyes of the petite spy. He was trying to intimidate her. That was impossible. Maybe he didn't know who she was. <I know a missing traitor that fits your description, yes. But how can I know that you are her? For all I know, you're a whore off the streets. An American spy? A French chef. I don't know who you are and I don't care who you are. You are not In my instruction and the Asset said nothing of change. You don't even know the asset's name.>

Was he trying to play her? Surely he had a description or picture. She hadn't hanged much at all through the years. Maybe he knew that the Black Widow wouldn't know the Winter Soldier's name and he was trying to know her identity for sure. She wanted his to think she was the Black Widow coming back to Russia.

<I do know his name. The Asset,> Natalia spoke up. She was gambling with this. The man could know about her past with the Winter Soldier. But he could also know that she was wiped. He could also be under the impression that her training went smoothly and she never learned his name in the first place.

The store owner pursed his elder lips and looked at Natalia it smug disbelief, crossing his arms. <What is it then?>

<He is know as the Winter Soldier,> she told him truly. Would that be enough. He continued to look expectant. This was one of the biggest gambles she had ever made. What did he want to hear? She took and deep breath and continued. <He was once known as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the United States of America.>

The clerks eyes grew wide as he reached under the counter slowly. <So your not the Black Widow.>

Natalia shook her head. She gambled wrong. She still had to play it of, however. <No, sir. I am the Black Widow.>

The clerk shook his head. <No. The Black Widow would not know the name of The Winter Soldier. Not many do. But you are someone,> he says, revealing that he was pulling our a gun from under the counter. <Someone who needs to to be seized immediately.>

Quicker than the man could pull the gun all the way on Natalia she made quick maneuver over the counter and turned the gun on him, making sure that he was the one to be shot in the moment. Once the elder Hydra Officer was dead on the floor, Natalia put the gun where he had it and sat him up on a chair so that it would take longer for people to realize his fate. She put back the knob she watched him do for James only minutes earlier, revealing something she would never have wished to see.

Hydra had grown. It had spiraled. It was something different than what she  had always known. All he officers, jets, tanks, and weapons minor to major had glaring red skulls with the snakey hydra tentacles protruding out of it. They all jumped out at her like slaps to the face.

They were all reminders of the terrors she had experienced in her past years. The red began to bleed and the skulls began to scream at her. She heard Madame B's voice and felt James's thrashes, pounds, and pummels. She saw the face of Alexie as he told her goodbye for the last time. She saw the pleading eyes of the only friend she had ever made in her childhood, begging Natalia not to kill her. She felt the shatter of Draykov's daughter's neck under her fingers. She saw the flames engulf the children's ward of the hospital.

Everything she saw here - the orderly bustle of Hydra officers and the pounding hammers and spark blows tools in the hands of Hydra-hired mechanics working on the hundreds of machines - it all reminded her of the inevitability of the fact that she and James were monsters just and much as they were victims.

And officer stopped before her and saluted, bringer her out of her dark thoughts.

"Hail Hydra," he said proudly, then went back on his way. Natalia, responded in the manner she was required if she were to keep the scam up, then went on her way, being sure to impersonate the Black Widow that everyone remembered.

As she walked, she found herself lost in herself, hearing only the more quiet-than-not clicks of her wedged combat boots on the tile floor and the slamming, throbbing thoughts inside her disturbed mind. As the years past, the dull sensation of strangeness in her mind was something Natalia had grown accustomed too.

All she knew was that many of her memories were true while just as many were fabricated. She can't trust anyone that she remembered. Was James horrible? She didn't think so, but she had just as many fuzzy, jumbled memories of him treating her the way Madame B did as she had of him being the man she preferred. How could she be sure? All the missions she had with him, she had two versions. On Christmas Eve of 1950, she didn't know what happened.

Did James tell her the traditions of Christmas? Did he kiss her with the softness of the feeling called "love". Did they consummate those feelings that morning? Did he hold her close and teach her to dance the way lovers did at the gala.

Or was he cold and rude to her. Was he harshly professional. Did he only act close when it was absolutely necessary to the mission. Was her the cold and distant man that that set of memories put on display.

She hoped it was the former. She hoped that under the heavy veil that the Hydra placed over him that it was she sweet, loving man who was just as hurt and victimized as she was (and probably more). Maybe if she saved him, they could heal together. Maybe this time, instead of being afraid, they would escape to America. To avoid arrest, they could approach the legalities of it all. Natalia Romanova never existed. James Barnes died in 1945.

And they could find peace. Maybe not all the way to happiness, but they might just be able to find peace. She found herself looking back on the times where they nearly found peace in Europe. They may have been moving from place to place, but no one was hurting them.

She was nearing what she thought was the jet take off deck, when she felt a cold, rigid hand wrap around her neck and another take her left arm, shoving her into the door on the right side of the hall all before she hand to chance to look up to see her captor.

By the time she could look up, she was pushed into the pitch black closet closet, still held down by her captor, unable to see anything.

She was being held down, yes. But whoever was doing so, they were doing it carefully in a way that wasn't hurting her or cutting off any oxygen. There was only caution in the grasp.

"Who are you?" James's voice rang out through the dark. He was so close to her, his breath hot on her forehead. She could feel the heat off his body. She could smell the must and pine scent that sunk into his new leather on the mission.

She was in a state of stupefaction. He had approached her. He was curious about her. He left his gun f or her.

What if she could save him? Her stomach churned and fluttered all at the same time. This was the moment.

But could she seize it?

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