Orange Juice
Chapter Seven:
Orange Juice
The rubble settled. Steve sighed, his clean shaven face covered in dust. Galina clutching tightly to Natasha’s slack body, heaving and coughing up all of the dust. The explosion was a whirlwind of motions and of fear. Steve could still hear Galina’s gasping breath from beside him.
Steve quickly shoved the ruble from his shield, moving to get them out of this situation. There was no time for hesitation. He glances behind him, seeing Natasha against a cement bolder. Galina checking her pulse, her hands shaking.
“She’s alive,” her Russian accent prominent through her words. The young girl didn’t bother to glance back at him, instead all of her focus was on the older woman.
Fire was all around them. The blistering heat makes each of them sweat. Galina was finding it hard to breathe through the dust and the smoke. She looked to her right as Steve bent down to pick Natasha up in his arms, muttering something. Galina was quick on her feet, following the older man through the rubble. Cold air and hot air mixed, the cool wind blowing dust into Galina’s eyes. She stumbled a bit, wiping her eyes. Her stomach dropped, she lost sight of Steve. She turned in a circle, looking for the blonde man. She could feel the same funny feeling creeping back into her chest. Looking down at the ground she could see his lagging footprints. Following them through the ruble, she saw the older man. He had a look of relief on his face.
“Galina, there you are,” He sighed.
Galina’s heart sputtered, she wiped her face of dust and soot. Who was Galina?
“We need to go.” Steve nodded his head towards his left. Galina nodded her head and led the way. She glanced behind her making sure that Steve was behind her with Natasha in his arms. Her eyes widened as she saw helicopter after helicopter fly above them in the air. HYDRA was on their tail. Steve nodded at her expression and the girl quickened her pase.
⧗
Hours later of walking, the sun started to rise. Alina had grown tired as she walked, her eyes growing heavy. Every so often the girl would yawn and rub at her eyes. The Widow had woken up not too long before the sun was in the sky and started walking for herself. Alina had gravitated towards the older woman with copper hair, glancing up at her eyes to make sure that she was okay. Something that the Captain kept noticing as they walked for hours through DC.
The Captain hadn’t told Alina where they were going, just mentioning a friend’s house. And that they’d be safe.
The Widow didn’t speak or say that going to this friend’s house was unsafe, so Alina nodded her head and yawned. If the Widow said it was okay, then it was okay.
A few more hours of walking, the sun rising in the horizon, pinks, yellows, and blues in the sky, the trio made their way up a side street in a residential neighborhood. They stopped at a blue colored house, standing in front of a glass slide door. Alina stood between the two adults again, the Captain on her left, the Widow on her right. They waited only a few moments after the Captain had knocked on the glass.
Alina was surprised when the privacy glass door opened up almost immediately.
It was the Falcon.
A potential target of her’s.
Damn, this world is small.
Alina squinted her eyes, watching the Falcon’s lips as he spoke. “Hey, man.” he said simply.
“I'm sorry about this. We need a place to lay low.” Alina turns her head to her left, slowly taking in the Captain’s words. It’s so much harder to watch conversations when it feels like you got thrown into a blender, and possibly have a concussion. She looked to her right feeling the Widow shift on her feet.
“Everyone we know is trying to kill us.”
Alina turns to the Falcon in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed. He was watching her. Alina could feel her cheeks turn red, but she was too tired to care for her embarrassment. “Not everyone.” Alina reads his lips, feeling a little bit of relief flow through her chest. Great, she wasn’t going to die right at that moment. But maybe soon.
The Widow was the first to enter. She swiftly made her way through the door, the Falcon side stepping to let the trio through. Alina was hesitant to follow through, but the Widow turned and held out a hand for her. She stared at the woman’s hand, then up to her eyes. Ignoring her outstretched hand, the tall twelve year old made her way through the Falcon’s house. She turned just in time to see the Captain making his way through the threshold, and the Falcon sweeping the area before sliding the door shut and closing the blinds.
* * *
Alina was first to wash up.
She was given a towel, a bar of soap, and a kind smile from the Falcon. She nodded numbly, her eyes wide and lips pressed together. Dashing into the closest bathroom, Alina closed and locked the door. She took a breather for a moment, closing the blinds to the small window and stuffing the towel in front of the door.
It was weird—terrifying even—how the adults she has met recently have been so…kind to her. It was making her feel like they were going to turn around and pounce on her, or worse.
Alina couldn’t help but be nosey. Beside the bathroom door was a closet. She tore through the cupboard, looking for anything. Who knows? This Falcon man could secretly be a creep and have hidden cameras in the bathroom. Alina didn’t know how far-fetched that idea was, but she wasn’t taking any chances. If HYDRA found out that one of their most powerful Asset’s was lally gagging with the enemy, then she would no longer have a head. Scratch that , she wouldn’t have a mind. They’d probably give her a lobotomy if they ever got their hands back on her.
Alina shivered at her thoughts, squeezing her eyes shut. She slid to the floor, craning her neck up to the ceiling, letting her neck painfully stretch out. If she stared at the sky her tears would dry up. She’ll be alright. She won’t cry. Project Glory does not cry. Don’t cry. Scrubbing at her eyes over and over again, seeing silver stars behind her eyes, she exhales in and out, over and over again. Damn it! Get a grip on yourself! The Captain has proved to you many times that you’re safe—that HYDRA won’t be able to get to you! Alina exhales deeply, shaking her head. She needs to get herself together. Quickly standing up, Alina was overcome with dizziness. She gripped onto the circular sink in front of her, feeling the slick coolness of the porcelain sink. Alina exhaled for the millionth time as the dizziness faded away. Slowly looking up, she was met with herself in the mirror.
The poor twelve year old looked like hell, covered in soot and dust, her long copper curls tangled with spare debris in her hair. She sighed, searching her eyes for something. Does she know what? No, she doesn't know what she’s looking for in herself. Rubbing at her cheeks with her trembling hands, she tries to brush off the brown soot on her face. Rubbing at her face until it is raw and red, she stares lonely at her features. At her bony shoulders, her collarbone poking out of her tattered shirt. Oh, yeah, her hideous orange and white striped shirt had ripped a bit when HYDRA sent— SHIELD —sent out a ‘bogie’ to kill their prized toys.
The more that she thought about the events of the day prior, the more she realizes that they were also trying to kill her. That she was just as expendable as HYDRA’s precious agents. She shivered, feeling hot pressure behind her eyes, pricking and waiting to spill. She blew out a breath of air, feeling it deep in her chest, her cheeks puffing out. God, she’s gotta get a grip on herself. She can’t be a baby. You’re a Widow. You’re Project Glory. A Widow never cries, and Project Glory doesn't cry too. What would Rumlow think of you if you were crying?
Alina screwed up her face in disgust. He’d probably like that, though. That bastard.
Swiftly turning around, Alina turns the knob to the shower, using cold water. The shower was fit for one person, and had a glass door with a white shower curtain. Peeling her boots off, and her “normal clothes” as HYDRA would say, she jumped into the shower feeling her bones and muscles ache. Alina scrubbed and scrubbed her limbs until they were raw and burning. The cold water sent a shock down her spine, but it kept her thoughts at bay for now.
Drenched in cold water, Alina took the quickest, most aching shower she’s had the luxury to.
At least, with HYDRA, they’d get lazy and just drench her to the core with ice cold water and call it a day.
Alina shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Don’t think about that right now. Stop it. She got dressed after drying off with a hand towel, making sure to clean up the water that got on the floor. Back in her soot covered clothes, Alina took a breath before emerging from the bathroom, unlocking the door and turning off the light. Her hair was dripping, reaching her lower back. Her eyes flickering from every detail in the Falcon’s house. From the small feature vases and decorations, some pictures of a small family pass by as she navigates through the hallway. Alina manages to find a bedroom with the Captain and Widow, very obviously having a talk. She hesitates at the threshold of the open door, her lips pursed. The Captain and Widow don’t notice her for a moment, and she knocks on the wall, announcing her presence.
The two adults glance at Alina, two different looks on their faces. The Captain looked troubled by her presence, like he had seen a ghost. Which was weird, because she’s pretty sure she didn’t die when the bogie came after them. At least she’s about 62 percent sure. Maybe she did die, and this was some sort of tormentous hell she’s in. She could also be hallucinating, that could be a factor, too.
Alina was about to make a joke, as she imagined her Papa would say, “ I didn’t die from the bomb, did I? ” when the Captain stands and makes his way past her to the bathroom to her right. He gives her a tight–lipped smile and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinches involuntarily, slowly looking up to him.
“Right,” Alina reads the man’s lips as he takes his hand off her shoulder like it had burned him. The Captain nods and excuses himself to the restroom. Alina looks over to the Widow with a questioning look.
“What was all of that about?” She asks, slowly approaching the Widow.
The Widow shrugs her shoulders, scooching over on the edge of the bed, silently inviting her to sit on the bed with her. Alina hesitantly takes the invitation, sitting on her hands, her lips pursed. She looks around the room, feeling the soft fabric of the blue bedspread beneath her hands. Shifting so she’s more comfortable, Alina takes a small handful of the blue bedspread in her hands, like she’s mesmerized by the bedding. The Widow is towel drying her short copper hair, watching Alina gently, her eyes surveying the girl’s posture, how she’s hunching into herself. And god, the Widow can’t believe that she’s…well, here—right now. That Alina is actually real, that she isn’t imagining how her daughter would have been if she were alive. Because she is. Her Galina is alive, she is breathing, and she’s sitting beside you, unharmed—at the moment. Thankfully.
Setting the towel down beside her, the Widow nudged Alina’s leg with her own. Alina’s head shot up, a questioning look on her face.
Before the Widow could say a thing, Alina spoke. “What will happen after HYDRA is taken down? Where will I go?”
The Widow exhales quietly, fixing her own posture. “Well, for one, you’re not leaving my sight,” The Widow smiles at her words, and Alina can’t help but feel that funny feeling curl up in her chest—this time it crept up her throat too.
“But you were my target, Widow—” Alina started, a question on the tip of her tongue.
“I know that you were ordered to watch Steve and I, Galina— Alina . I know that you were on a mission to get information from us. I was just surprised that you are so young, working with HYDRA and all.” The Widow assures Alina. The younger girl’s eyebrows furrow for the millionth time, the Widow’s words registering in her mind.
Alina ignores most of what the Widow said. Of course she’s young. She was born into HYDRA and the Red Room. It’s all she knows.
“Why do you and the Captain call me Galina?” Alina questions, albeit a little harshly. “I’m not Galina, I already told you my name. It’s Alina . Not Galina. If you really wanted, you can call me Alinushka,” Alina paused, biting the inside of her cheek. “My Papa calls me Alinushka, sometimes. If he remembers who he is. If he remembers that he is my Papa, and not the Soldat.”
The Widow pauses, pursing her lips. She was at a loss for words.
Alina waited patiently, sighing and looking up at the ceiling waiting for the Widow to speak up. Moments passed and Alina was growing impatient. “Do you really know about my past?”
Alina watches the Widow’s posture stiffen and deflate in milliseconds. “I do,” the older woman amended, looking anywhere but at Alina. “There are files mentioning you and the Winter Soldier. And Project Glory. They were supposed to be ghost stories, and now, here you are, sitting in front of me. Very clearly not a ghost,” The Widow tries to joke, her trademark smirk growing on her face.
Alina lets a weak smile form on her lips. Of course there were files about her and her Papa with SHIELD. After everything she’s done in her short twelve years on this earth, she’s not surprised. “Is that all you know about me, Widow?” Alina finally asks.
“Alina, you don’t have to call me ‘Widow’. Natasha is just fine.” The Widow—Natasha—corrects the younger girl. “And no, I know more about you than you think, Alinushka ,”
The look that Natasha gave Alina made her eyebrows quirk. Apparently the Black Widow, who had defected from the Red Room back in 2008, knows more about her ? Alina inwardly scoffed at the woman’s words. She didn’t say a thing though, keeping her mouth shut, Alina waited for the green-eyed woman to fess up.
Natasha took that as her que to start this…long, and tiresome conversation that was aboUt to occur. Exhaling and gathering her thoughts, Natasha shifted her weight on the bed, getting comfortable. “Back in 1999, the Winter Soldier was sent to train a select few aspiring Widows in the Red Room. You may already know the beginning of the story, but I’ll tell you anyway. I was among the select few, being myself, and a Widow by the name Yelena. She was like a sister to me, I grew up with her.”
Alina recognised the name, but didn’t speak. She watched Natasha’s expression, seeing flashes of memories in her emerald green eyes. The way her lips quirked up when mentioning Yelena and her Papa.
“The training was rigorous, not for the faint of heart. As time went by, the Soldat and I grew close. I’ll spare you the details. You’re too young to know what happened.” Natasha joked, lightly shoving her shoulder. “A year passes by, and things in the Red Room went to hell—”
“Yes, I know all about this. Something happened to you, to the famous and perfect Black Widow, and you defected.” Alina says matter-of-factly, nodding her head.
Natasha hesitates, nodding her head. “Yes, something did happen.” She pauses, now taking Alina’s hands out of her lap which were playing with the baby-blue bedspread in her nimble fingers. Alina’s eyes trailed their intertwined fingers, then up to the older woman’s gaze. She was looking softly at Alina, a look that her Papa would give her on a good day. She shivered, thinking about her Papa. Alina’s heart ached at the thought. “…you…happened.”
Alina felt her face drain of its color, setting those silver stars once more. “Wha—? No, I was born in 2000, and there is no record of me having a mother. My Papa, he isn’t actually my papa,” Alina tried to explain, with utter confusion on her face. “I had a mother, and a friend up until I was four. Then Dreykov took me in when my mother died.”
There is no way that she’s related to the famous Natalia Romanov, the most cut-throat, ruthless, seductive, and deadliest woman in the entire world. Let alone the Red Room. Alina had already accepted previously that her mother had been some unfortunate poor woman who had given her up, and the Red Room had taken her from there. Her father, unknown, until the Soldat was given a motive for him to stop acting up. Or she’d be punished. That’s the only reason why she is called the Soldat ‘Papa’. They shared no similarities, and neither did she and Natasha…except their same copper colored hair. And Alina’s natural instinct for blood and ruthlessness. And Alina’s one green eye, her other matching her Papa’s ocean blue, and her pale complection—
Alina was spiraling.
“No,” She whispered. “No. You can’t be my mother. Because then…then that would mean that you left me there,” Alina wasn’t looking at Natasha. She was glaring at her lap, her long copper curls covering her face. She was in denial. But everything was starting to make sense. Why Madame B pushed her so much, why she was Dreykov’s favorite, why the Winter Soldier was the way he is, why he remembered copper hair and those emerald green eyes that were boring into the girl’s skull.
Alina felt like her chest was imploding. Like her eyes were going to bulge out and pop out of their sockets and roll down her lap onto the floor. She felt like she was going to barf up whatever her last meal was—or better yet, like she was going to crap her brains out. Whatever her body decided first, well, then that’d be the most pressing mystery.
A short lived wave of anger replaced the funny feeling in her throat. Just for a moment.
“But, that doesn't make sense, I already had a mother, and a best friend. I had barbie dolls, I had my seventh birthday in Pennsylvania before—” Before my whole life turned out to be a lie. A cruel lie. Alina could feel tears pricking at her eyes, making them sting. She swallowed thickly, shaking her head. Natasha, the woman before her, her mother? Her damn mother had left her to die. (Not really, but that’s what it felt like at the moment.) She had left her as a child to grow up in the same place she did, with the same lies, the same pain, the same suffering, the same mental cage, and no way out? God , she’d even left the Soldat—-her Papa! At least he’d stayed and protected her as much as he could—-while his brain was being put in the blender over and over again . Sometimes, Alina was glad that she was deaf, that she couldn’t hear her father’s pained screams.
Alina glared up to the woman beside her, straightening her spine to stare her in the eye.
“Galina—” Natasha tries, reaching out to her daughter.
“ Don’t call me that.” Alina seethes out, “I’m not yours. I’ve never been yours. You left me there, and my whole childhood was just some lie!” Alina swiftly stands up off the bed in a flash. “The one good thing that happened to me in my life, is it just a lie? And if you really are my mother, then you left me there! Just to become an Avenger? A-and forget about your past? You’re—you’re just a fake ! Just trying to cover up your dark past. How many innocent people have you killed? And you just—left me there? You left Papa there? What—to live a life without killing? To be the ‘good guy’? While we’re still stuck there? How could you do that to my Papa?!”
Alina could feel the anger bubbling over, but she didn’t care. There is no way in hell that she’ll be staying in Natasha’s line of sight anymore. Not after this.
“Alina, I didn’t know you were alive.” Natasha tries to stress, her expression almost pleading.
In the few short hours Alina’s known the Widow, she’s had a poker face on. Rarely showing emotion. Yet here she is, pleading for her daughter to understand. To listen.
“Madame B told me that you were dead.” Natasha now, standing face to face with her daughter. “I held your body, you were as cold as ice. And I fought so hard to see you, Galina—I really did.”
“But you still left my Papa there, even though you knew he was alive?” Alina asked, her anger simmering in her core, ready to implode again. “ Why ?”
Natasha put her hands gently on Alina’s shoulders, hesitating when Alina flinched. “There was no possible way that I could have gotten Yasha out safely. They knew about us. HYDRA. And Dreykov. They knew how close we were, and separated us. Saw our relationship develop in the shadows. They eventually punished us for our actions. I barely escaped with my life, Galina.”
Alina felt her throat tighten. Each time Natasah calls her ‘Galina’, it’s like a harsh slap to the face. Of the little girl Natasha sees her as. As someone she’s never been before. “I told you, my name is Alina, my Papa named me Alina. I’m not Galina. I am not your little dead girl. I am alive, here and now. I’m my Papa’s girl, not yours.”
Alina knows her words are harsh. She knows they’re tearing an old wound open. But she couldn’t stop herself. She feels provoked, feels like everything in her life has been a lie. She could’ve been with Natasha all along, if things were different. If Natasha escaped with her before Dreykov and HYDRA found out. She could’ve grown up to be kind, learned how to play guitar, and not how to kill at the age of seven. She wanted to say more, she wanted to ask how— why —Natalia, the infamous Black Widow is her mother. It makes no sense to her, but at the same time, everything clicked. Why she was given to her Papa, why she was taken from her ‘mom’ in Pennsylvania at seven. Everything made sense now. Why she was treated differently, why she’s called, “Project Glory”, why her Papa had memories of a girl with copper hair, identical to hers.
Alina couldn’t breathe. Her surroundings were sliping from her eyes, her hands were growing numb. She shook her head, her trembling and numb hands reaching up to her
Alinushka? A vision of her Papa slips into her mind, Alinushka, read my lips , her Papa asks. That’s right, I’m right here. You’re fine, I’m here. Your whole life wasn’t a lie, her Papa with his sky blue eyes is before her. She’s back in her dimly lit cell, her back to the freezing cement corner, huddled up in a ball. Her Papa is here. He’s here. She’s safe.
Alinushka? Alina, listen to Natalia, she’s telling you the truth, solnechnyy svet. Alina narrows her eyes, staring at her Papa’s thin lips. She slowly nods, feeling a tear escape her eyes. Rapidly blinking, she scrubs her face and eyes, seeing the silver stars again. Her surroundings blend from her dimly lit cell, to the tan carpeted floor and the baby-blue bedspread at the Falcon’s house.
“— lina? ” Alina’s eyes were swimming, she was about to barf. “Alinushka?”
Alina felt fire in her stomach. Burning in her core.
She straightened up and glared at the older woman before her. She couldn’t even look at Natasha. She couldn’t stomach it. She knows that Natasha’s telling the truth, but she still can’t stomach the thought that Natasha was out of the Red Room, living her life as an Avenger, while her ‘dead’ daughter was being tortured, and trained to kill. To become the next best thing in HYDRA’s clutches.
The girl didn’t know what to do anymore. Didn’t know what to say.
She’s just a floating being right now, her mind racing. She doesn’t even feel real. Like this is all some terrible dream. But somehow, this dream would’ve been better than any other nightmare she’s had before. Because at least, she’s able to put a name to the woman her Papa’s been chasing in his memories.
Alina opens her mouth to say something, but it’s like she has no voice. Like her tongue is cut out of her mouth.
Natasha pursed her lips as her emerald green eyes flickered from Alina, to a presence behind her.
Alina swiftly turns around to see what the older woman’s looking at, and sees the Captain in the doorway. He’s saying something to the both of them, but Alina doesn’t bother to read his lips.
Instead, she brushes past the super soldier out of the bedroom.
She can’t even look at either of them right now.
It just feels so wrong.
Leaves a funny taste in her mouth. Faintly of acid, and she wonders if she’s going to barf.
* * *
Alina is sitting with her head down at the table.
She’s pretending that she’s the only one in the dining room right now. Even though she can feel the subtle vibrations of three people in the room through the table, and her chair.
Her hair is slowly drying, draped over her back, leaving a patch of wetness on her hideous orange and white striped shirt. She wants to burn the thing. Better yet, she wants to burn everything in sight.
Lifting her head a bit from the table, she straightens up to sip on a glass of cold orange juice.
She has grown fond of the taste, since this is her first time having it.
At first, she was very skeptical of consuming anything that was laid out on the table. A pile of pancakes, some sizzling bacon, toast, an array of fruits, orange juice, maple syrup, there were even a few omelets, and some sausages for the five of them to have. Her mouth watered just looking at all of the options. But she hesitated. She steeled herself from even letting herself indulge in anything at the table. Because there could be some sort of drug in the food. She had to stay skeptical. Even if Natasha and the Captain trusted the man, or Sam, as he introduced himself to Alina, she couldn’t trust him. He’s a complete stranger.
…That did let the three of them crash in his house for safety.
So, Alina waited for Natasha and the Captain to load up their plates, and try the food.
Once she saw no visible reactions coming from them that remotely resemble any sort of poisoning, Alina slowly indulged in some food.
Now this led her to eat as much as the Captain did, thanks to a version of the Super Soldier serum coursing through her veins.
She even had thirds. And she was already on her fourth glass of orange juice. It was like nectar to her. She couldn’t get enough of it. Same thing with the maple syrup. She’s never tasted anything so sweet before. Maybe she’s dreamt about it before, but dreaming sure does not compare to how heavenly maple syrup tastes on pancakes. She even tried some on an omlet. It was strange, but she ate the whole thing nonetheless. She doesn’t know when her next meal will be, so she let herself indulge. And the food just kept coming.
Maybe that was Sam’s plan. To get everyone’s guard down and pounce.
Alina was a bit mad at herself that she let herself play into Sam’s plan (even if it clearly wasn’t his plan, and he really did just want to let this random kid that showed up on his doorstep with the Captain America and the Black Widow have a good breakfast).
She knows the adults are talking. Discussing some sort of plan to do…whatever. Alina couldn’t get herself to care. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around the information Natasha--her mother --had told her only minutes before.
The adults in the dining/kitchen continue with their discussion, and Alina could feel the tense worry that was coating the room. She just hopes that by the end of today, HYDRA will be taken down, and her Papa won’t be stuck killing like he’s been controlled to do for most of his life. That he’ll finally be free. That she’ll be free with him too.
Maybe she could…possibly get to know Natasha more.
Could make sense of what happened. Why everything happened as it did.
Maybe ‘start over’, and enjoy her life as a preteen for once, and not have to worry about hurting people. She could be just another normal girl. And maybe, all of this anger that she has will sizzle away with time. She could possibly go to school. Continue doing ballet.
“Alina.” Natasha raps her knuckles on the round wooden table where Alaina’s resting her head. The girl slowly looks up, her heterochromic eyes meeting her emerald green ones. Alina’s eyes flicker to Natasha’s lips to read. “We’re gonna get going. We’re gonna pick up a SHIELD Agent, so we need you to either stay in the car, or stay with Steve and I. You’re choice.”
Alina puckers her lips as she sits up straight. She doesn’t want to sit by italy and do nothing. She’s actually itching to do something right now. “I’ll go with you two.” And even as those words burn her tongue like acid, she still would rather be with the Captain and Natasha, than Sam, who she barely knows.
It’s not like she knows the Captain and Natasha well enough as it is, but she knows of them enough to make her decision.