masked
You stared out the window, observing the beautiful sunrise in Moscow, Russia. The sparse apartment buildings filled the horizon as the morning sun rose slowly, igniting the sky in a stunning orange shade. You never had time to observe and study the beauty around you because you were always too busy setting up combat class. Although you would miss sparring with your students, you were grateful that your hand injury allowed you some peace and tranquility.
“Morning, Widow,” the Soldat snuck up from behind you. “How’s the hand?”
“Geez, you scared me. It’s good, still in pain through.” You took your eyes away from the window and pinned them on the man behind you. Before you could articulate your next thought, he reached for your left hand and raised it to his eye level.
“Why are you here? I told you no fighting,” he said, observing your hand.
“I am the instructor. I am required to be here.”
“I will take over the class today, then. You should rest some more.”
“These are MY students, Soldat. I should look after them. I won’t lay hands on anyone, I promise.” You snuck your injured hand away from his grasp.
“Fine, but I will be leading the class. You can shout corrections you have from time to time,” he said before leaving your side to set up mats for the trainees to use.
“Fine. Make them hate you.”
“What? Why?”
“So they’ll celebrate when I return as their teacher.” The Soldat huffed in amusement as he stood before the room, watching the widows enter the room with their tactical gear on. They filed in onto their designated spot, going onto their knees, waiting for you to speak.
“Доброе утро, Widows (Good morning, Widows),” you command the room with your voice.
“Готов, учитель (Ready, teacher),” all the Widows spoke at once.
“Today, the Winter Soldier will be leading today’s class. This is a privilege, so take this as an advantage. Listen, learn, and be good. Whoever performs the worst will spar with him at the end of the class. I will observe,” You raise your hand to signal the Widows to stand up. You retreat to let the Soldat take the center of the room as he starts the class on weapon handling, pulling out his hand pistol and explaining the anatomy of the gun. You watch as his metal hand wraps around the base, his human hand tracing the gun barrel. You wonder if his notoriety of being an expert sharpshooter comes from his prosthetic or if he’s just naturally that good. Skill like his cannot be taught.
As you observe from the room's shadows, you see a guard from the corner of your eye sneak into the room with stealth that only you and the Soldat could notice. The guard tilted his head sideways, signaling you to join him with news you can only assume is terrible. You look back into the room, seeing the Soldat’s eyes meeting yours before the man closes the door before you.
—-
“My Red Widow, come have a seat.” Viktor’s voice was friendlier than usual. Odd.
“Hello, Viktor. I was in the middle of a combat class. What is the reason for this meeting?” you inquire, wondering about his true intentions.
“How have you been enjoying my gift, darling?”
“He’s great. Thank you for the gratuitous gift, sir.” Viktor studies you intently before averting his gaze towards your bandaged hand.
“What happened there?” he asked.
“Ah, sparring went wrong. Broken knife stabbed me when I was standing up.”
“I thought we taught you better, my Widow. Tell me, how is the Winter Soldier fitting in?” You hesitate before answering. What exactly does he want from this conversation? He’s secretly asking if you’re getting distracted by him. Viktor was always an easy tell compared to Dreykov.
“He’s good with the widows. They appreciate his lessons.” Spin the conversation about the Widows. Don’t answer personally.
“Hm. How are your sparring sessions with him? Is he ruthless like the legend says?”
“Absolutely. I have never been challenged more.” Victor hums in intrigue. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve got a class to tend to. I must leave to oversee their lesson. Dreykov’s direct order.” you interject, getting ready to return to your widows. Of course, that was a lie. You haven’t spoken to Dreykov since he signed you as a trainer two years ago. However, you knew Viktor didn’t have the guts to ask Dreykov whether you were lying, and you needed a good excuse to get out of his office. As you got up to leave, Viktor called out your name.
“Have fun with your gift before he’s confiscated.” For the first time, you were actually scared of Viktor. His voice was unnerving, calculated, and sinister. He knew something you didn't, and that scared the shit out of you.
—-
Night time had fallen, yet you couldn’t stop thinking about what Viktor had told you earlier. Confiscated was a word used when a kid plays too long with a toy, not when it's a human being. You knew the Soldat would leave at one point, which disappointed you. Not only because he was a great combat partner but also because a part of you felt connected to him. He had a hardened shell that took days to crack, but underneath was a man of great character and an even greater heart. You kept thinking back to his hands working on yours, stitching you up after your stupid mistake of stabbing yourself. He was so gentle, something you didn’t even know was possible with a gigantic metal arm. His touch held a warmth that you had never experienced before in your life. You hate to give credit to Viktor, but he was indeed the best gift you could've ever received. Every moment between you and the Soldat went against everything instilled in you since you were a kid. You felt like a child, trusting in him so fast.
You realize the two weeks you have left with him will begin withering until everything returns to normal. No brooding man standing next to you anymore, no fun sparring sessions, no longing looks with the Soldat. Time was limited, and you intended to make the most of his visit. You marched over to your door to see the Soldat in his room; however, you were pleasantly surprised to see him waiting outside your door.
“Oh! Nice to see you. Sorry, I didn't return to class earlier. I was, um. Anyways, why are you-” The Soldat cut off your rambling words by grabbing your upper arm and pulling you back into your room. He swiftly shut the door behind him and looked at you with worry. The Soldat leaned down to your ear, his breath hot against your ear.
“Can’t talk here. They’ve bugged your room,” he whispered. You looked around your living quarters, scanning the room for any abnormalities.
“Follow me.” You took his hand in yours and led him through a maze of dimly lit hallways and four flights of stairs before climbing up to a small ledge with a serene view of silver birch and pine trees.
“What is this place?” the Soldat curiously asked. He sat beside you, his legs hanging off the platform's edge.
“I found it when I was a widow. I often wandered around, and one day, I found this place after a particularly tough training session. I just sat here and thought about things.” You observed the slight breeze that swept past, rattling the trees.
“Thought about what things?” He turned to you.
“Just…” you hesitated. “Wondering what my life would be like if I wasn’t a widow.”
“Why’s that?”
“I never got the chance to live as a regular child. If I did, I would’ve been too young to remember anyway. I wondered how they lived their life compared to mine.” you sighed, looking down at your bandaged hand.
“I know I had a life before all this,” his right arm grabs his metal one, caressing it softly. “I never had time to think about it, though. It was always mission after mission. And even if I could think about it, I’m not sure I would remember any of it.”
“But if you got the chance, would you want to return to a life different from the one you’re living now?” you ask, intrigued.
“Is this off the record?” he inquisitively asked.
“Of course.”
“I would give this life up in a heartbeat.” The Soldat blurted out. He almost looked shocked at his answer, not expecting it to come out so confidently.
“Really?” you look over to him, slightly smiling.
“You wouldn’t?” he asked back. Would you? You had to think about it. The Red Room raised you into the Widow with the second-most kills in Soviet Ops history at only 21 years old. They taught you everything you know and built you from nothing. You would probably be dead by now if it weren’t for Dreykov.
“I don’t know. I owe my life to the KBG, but I wish I had the chance to have a choice. I don’t like to think about hypotheticals, Soldat,” you look into his eyes.
“Why don’t you like them?”
“It makes me think about a life I can’t have.”
“What if it wasn’t a hypothetical? What if you could escape this place and be someone else?” You saw a glint of childish hope in his eyes.
“Dreykov would find me, and he would kill me. Only one other person had done it, and from what I heard, she wasn’t alive for more than 24 hours after her defection. It would be impossible to leave.” You remember hearing the stories about a red-headed girl who defected from the Red Room. She was spoken about in the shadows of the organization so that no other widows could get ideas of leaving. When you asked Viktor about the girl, he told you blankly that Dreykov had eliminated her. That was that.
“It's nice to dream about it, though. Even if it is impossible.”
“Never coined you as the hopeful type, Soldat.”
“Didn’t know I had it in me either, Widow.” Suddenly, a fit of giggles and laughter broke out. You had to stifle your joy in your elbow in case anyone would hear you. The Soldat still had his mask on, so he didn’t face the same issue as you. As you and the man next to you’s laughter died down, you couldn’t help but wonder what his smile looked like. You wanted to see him for who he was: an honest man with a sincere soul. You readjusted your position on the ledge so your entire body faced him. He turned back to look at you to meet your wandering eyes. Hesitantly, you brought your hand out to the edge of his mask next to his ear. You brushed your fingers along the mask, sensing him tense up for a split second before relaxing again. You traced along the outline of his mask, taking your time to absorb every tiny detail about him. As the pads of your fingertips reached the bottom of his chin, you let your heart lead instead of your head. You hooked your fingers underneath the edge of his mask, feeling his stubble graze your nails. As soon as the Soldat caught wind of what you were trying to do, his metal hand came up to grab your forearm, warning you to stop.
“O-oh! I’m sorry, I don't know what came over me. I know it's a privacy violation, but I was just curious-.” Before you could finish, his grip on your arm loosened, and he gave you a slight nod, letting you continue. You grabbed the mask and slowly pulled it off his face, revealing what you had been so curious about all those days. You felt your breath hitch for a moment as you observed the canvas that was his face. He was… beautiful. The moon's soft light reflected onto his face like he was an angel. His features fit together like a puzzle. Every piece complemented the other perfectly. You searched for a flaw, and yet there were none. Admittedly, you looked like a total creep. You stared at the man for a good minute before he swiveled around and faced the void of trees and greenery, turning away from you.
“What’d you do that for?” the Soldat broke the silence with his velvety voice. You had never heard his voice so clearly before.
“Just curious,” you replied, turning to be side by side with the man to your left. You both sat comfortably in silence, basking in the company of each other. It wasn’t long before you felt his gaze on you.
“You’re special, you know that?” he whispered lowly. It was barely audible, but you know what you heard. You swiveled your head to look at him again.
“How?” Instead of answering your question, his hand crept up to cup your face, just like he did the night before patching up your cut. His blue eyes bore into your soul, his pupils darting between your eyes and lips. You were frozen in place. You had never been in such a situation before, and you were unsure of what to do. You placed your hand under his ear, almost touching his nape. You both stayed like this for a while, melting into each other’s touch like they were the only two people on Earth. For the Soldat, it was solace he never knew. When someone touched his face, it was to harm, punish, and demean him. But how you were caressing him made him feel a sense of peace he had never experienced. For him, the world went silent, and the only person he would hear was you. He couldn’t stop admiring you. Your beauty. Your ferociousness. Your kindness. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air with someone as angelic as you.
“Oh! Um, we gotta go before they think something is up,” you panic. You two had been out on the deck for about 30 minutes, and surely someone went looking for the Soldat. You wanted to stay in the moment with him so bad, but your duties always came first. You gathered yourself and began your descent down the stairs into the hallway. You felt his lingering gaze on you as the Soldat placed his mask back over his face.
“Go to the training room. I’ll go back to my quarters. They won’t suspect anything,” you whisper. You get ready to bolt when the Soldat grabs your arm to pull you to face him. He locks eyes with you once more before taking off.