Chapter 8
Gamora peers through the blinds, scanning the street outside, before huffing and sinking into one of the chairs around the table. “There’s no one out there right now. This is the perfect opportunity to leave.”
“There’s always someone out there,” Steve mumbles. Natasha isn’t sure if his incoherent speech is due to his old age or the fear due to the ubiquitous monitoring of Ultron.
She also isn’t sure which one makes her more uncomfortable.
Tony takes a moment to stop biting his nail to rest his hands on the table and look at Steve through steely eyes. “You’re absolutely certain Pepper and this reality’s Tony don’t have a child? Maybe they just had her in secret to avoid...you know.” He waves his hand above his head, implying the omnipresent Ultron of this reality.
Steve shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tony. They don’t. This reality’s Tony creates and believes in Ultron. He wouldn’t hide from–“
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Rogers,” Tony interrupts, pointing his finger at him. “Or should I say tighty-whities? That’s what people your age are rocking, no? I created and believed in Ultron, too. And look. If everyone had listened to me, well.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “You told us yourself. The snap didn’t happen here.”
“But look around, Tony,” Steve says. “We lost a lot of our personal freedoms. SHIELD and Ultron monitor everything. You even have to get permission to throw a party or have a barbecue. If you’re gone for more than three days without telling anyone, people search your house and go looking for you.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Loki asks, leaning comfortably in his seat. “Half of humanity was not killed away here. I fail to see why you’re focusing on the negatives.”
The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity.
Natasha shivers, remembering looking down on Loki in Germany. It had been the first time she’d seen him, and she already abhorred him for what he had done to Clint.
Speaking of...
“Gamora’s right. We can’t just wait around here,” Natasha says, thinking of Clint and Laura and her alternate self that wouldn’t die to save them. “Our goal was–“
“To get home,” Loki cuts in. “There were many rocks in the road, yet it still led to you coming back home.” To illustrate his point, he gestures to Steve’s small but homey kitchen.
“We don’t belong here,” Natasha counters. “There can’t be two of us running around here. We have to go back to where we belong.”
“If the Space Stone is here, I can use it to open a portal and try and find my family in space,” Gamora notes. “We just need to get to the correct time. How did you all do it before?”
“Pym particles,” Steve answers. “And trust me, I’ve tried to get more, but Bruce is supposed to be bringing me back, so mine will work to get me home. If we just got more particles, there’s no guarantee that they’ll land you in the right reality. Plus, the Tesseract isn’t here. Thor took it back to Asgard with him and Loki back in 2012. In this world, that Ragnarok thing didn’t happen.”
“Ragnarok?” Loki questions, leaning forward with interest.
Before Steve can answer, there’s pounding at his door.
Gamora gets back up, peeking through the window at the front porch. She swears. “It’s one of the droids.”
“They probably want to question you guys today,” Steve guesses. He slowly stands to his feet. “Hide upstairs. I’ll make something up.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Steve,” Natasha says, her lips quirking up into a smile, but she’s not lying.
“Perhaps I can be of service,” Loki offers. He points to one of the many picture frames on the wall. “Are any of these people your neighbors?”
Steve nods. “The man in the green sweater, Stan. He lives down the block. He’s a writer. Everyone in the neighborhood loves him.”
Loki materializes into Stan, spinning around for approval. Natasha tries not to focus on the fact that Loki actually just helped them and grabs Tony, ushering him up the stairs quickly with Gamora right behind them, while Steve goes to open the front door.
Gamora opens a small closet door and shimmies her way in, nodding to Natasha as she shuts the door behind her. Natasha pushes Tony into a small room that looks like a study, with tall shelves and a desk cluttered by piles and piles of papers. She quietly shuts the door behind them and stands behind one of the shelves while Tony scrunches down to sit behind the desk.
Downstairs, Natasha can hear one of the Iron Legion droids interrogating Steve on their whereabouts.
“I signed them out under my name. They were quite tired, so I figured they would be more up to an interview later this week,” Steve says, trying to be friendly. “They just went to explore around the neighborhood. They’ll be back later and then I can take them back to the Council.”
“That’s against protocol for visitors,” the droid reprimands. “Mr. Rogers, you have been given one warning. If this continues, you will be summoned to the Council for alternative measures.”
Loki then says something as Stan, but it’s too muffled for Natasha to hear over the sound of Tony’s labored breathing.
“Oh, God,” he moans, burying his face in his hands. “This isn’t what Ultron was supposed to be. It wasn’t. This isn’t even the right Earth. Morgan’s not here, and you’re not even friends with Barton...” He looks up at Natasha, a sad smile on his face. “Look, when we’re in front of the Council, if you can get a chance to get out of here, you take it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.”
Natasha kneels down in front of him, resting a hand on his shoulder. She shakes her head; this omnipresent monitoring system is obviously putting a damper on their plans, but she’s not about to leave Tony. Not now, not after everything they’ve been through.
I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.
“Sorry, Stark, you’re stuck with me,” she teases, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not navigating this world without you.”
Tony gives her a genuine, relieved smile, resting his hand atop hers. It’s evident now more than ever that Tony never wanted to fly a missile into space above New York, never wanted to snap his fingers with the gauntlet, never wanted to die. But he did it because no one else could, or would, and he had to make the sacrifice play.
Natasha is almost apologetic that she didn’t recommend him for the Avengers Initiative. Almost. Everything happens for a reason.
A few minutes later, the droid leaves. Tony crawls out from behind the desk and moves toward the door to exit the study, but Natasha silently grabs him and shakes her head.
“It could be a trap, Stark. Think a little,” she whispers. “Think of all the capabilities you gave the Iron Legion. Don’t be so trusting.”
Tony gives her a look similar to one Sam would give her whenever he thought she was being over-dramatic.
Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid?
The sound of the front door opening makes them both tense. The droid is back in the house, criticizing Steve’s overgrown trees and bushes, claiming they’re too restrictive to the interior of his home. Loki, as Stan, indignantly tells the droid that he never received any warnings about his hedges, and they’re twice the size of Steve’s.
Eventually, the droid leaves again. This time, Steve calls out, “It’s all clear to come out.”
Natasha gives Tony a smug grin and follows him down the stairs, Gamora behind her.
“So,” Steve says when they’re all seated around the table. “The Council has to meet with you guys today. I told them you were just out exploring a bit, so we should be there in no later than two hours. That should give us just enough time to come up with a cover story.”
“And what, pray tell, do you think that should be?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows.
“We’ll just tell them we were in space for a while, and we’re old friends of Steve’s,” Gamora suggests. “We all have alien DNA now. We can get them to run some tests to prove it. That’ll explain why we were in space. If this planet hasn’t had any more contact with anyone out there besides Thor and Asgard, we should be good.”
Steve furrows his eyebrows. “Alien DNA?”
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun with the enhancements, buddy,” Tony chirps, clapping Steve on the shoulder.
Natasha likes Gamora’s plan, but there’s something the green-skinned woman hasn’t thought of. Contrary to popular belief, Natasha doesn’t like being the negative one, but someone has to do it. Optimism isn’t permanent.
The only thing permanent in life is impermanence.
“That’s not going to work,” she says.
“Why not?” Gamora asks.
“Steve, who’s on the Council?” Natasha says, turning to face him.
Steve blinks. “Uh…sometimes different additional people are brought in for certain topics. Peggy was on the Council back in the 90’s after retiring from being SHIELD’s director. I was an honorary member for a little during topics on civil wars. But the permanent members of the Council right now…” He looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “There’s a few people from other countries you all probably wouldn’t be familiar with. King T’Chaka, from Wakanda, is on it. And Ross and Tony Stark are on it, too.”
Silence ensues. Tony sighs. “Shit.” He then covers his mouth. “Oops, sorry, Cap. Just sort of slipped out; I’ll watch my language.”
Steve sighs. “Tony—”
“Is there any way we can get this reality’s Tony to be omitted from this particular Council meeting?” Natasha cuts in.
Steve shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. Major decisions, especially ones involving apparent aliens from outer space, including one who tried to destroy New York, require a majority vote. If Tony’s not there today, the Council will be an even number.”
“I can appear as Stark,” Loki offers. “All we’d need to do is keep this reality’s Tony otherwise occupied.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. ‘Otherwise occupied?’” Tony asks, making a time-out symbol with his hands. “I don’t like the sound of that. Besides, this reality’s me is going to know he missed a meeting. Last I checked, none of your powers include being able to change people’s memories.”
Natasha considers Loki’s plan. It would work, if they can get this reality’s Tony to believe he had been in the meeting. She briefly considers just locking him up for the day until they can get an approval to leave, but she scratches that idea. Good plans take time. There’s no guarantee that they’ll be able to leave today.
Plus, Tony probably wouldn’t be too happy about locking his alternate self up.
“Wanda,” Natasha says. “She can probably manipulate his memories long enough. You think you can call her up, Steve? Does she work for SHIELD?”
“She doesn’t,” Steve answers slowly. Natasha doesn’t like his reluctant tone. “And I couldn’t call her, even if I wanted to. Because SHIELD stayed…well, SHIELD, Loki’s scepter just stayed with it. No human experimentation done. As far as I know, the Maximoff twins are just normal Sokovian civilians.”
Natasha runs her fingers through her hair, harshly enough to pull out one of the red-to-blonde strands. She fixates for a moment on her hair so she doesn’t have to think about how everything is working against them in this reality. Why did she have to get such a good hair dye? No other person she knew had dye that was still visible after five years.
“Are you still close with T’Challa?” Tony suggests. “Maybe he’ll let us crash in Wakanda for a bit. They’re guaranteed to have something to help us.”
“I’m an old man, Tony. I don’t run around with friends now. This is the most social interaction I’ve had for the last couple of weeks, actually,” Steve admits. “Even if we were friends, I don’t know that he could help us. Here, his father is still alive. King T’Chaka rules Wakanda and makes all executive decisions.”
Natasha closes her eyes for a brief moment.
Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred.
Unless you need to move a piano.
She opens her eyes. They definitely need to move a damn piano.
“We go to the Council. We tell them who we are and how we got here. Honesty is the best policy; we’ve learned that the hard way before,” she decides. “They’ve seen strange things before. If they don’t like people coming in from space, they shouldn’t want us to stay here too badly.”
Gamora turns to Loki. “You said you came to this reality using the Space Stone somehow. Why can’t we just use that to open a portal?”
“The Space Stone usually only opens portals to different parts of the universe, not alternate universes,” Loki says. “Besides, even if we wanted to try that, we can’t. I don’t have it. Something that powerful attracts much unwanted attention. It was out of my possession before I even landed on Sovereign.”
“I agree with Natasha,” Tony notes. “I mean, one of the people deciding what will happen is me. What’s the worst that can happen?”
~
“Am I the only one with a brain here? Are the holographs working correctly? There’s no static? Everyone heard what was just said, correct?” The Council’s Tony Stark rambles, pacing back and forth at the front of the large meeting room. “You come here, breaking our rules, and want us to help you? On what world does that make sense? Ours, I guess, right?”
“Tony—” Steve starts, but the Councilman raises his hand to stop him.
“First of all, only Pepper and Happy call me Tony. That’s Anthony, or Mr. Stark, or genius-who-came-up-with-this-planet’s-security-system to everyone else. Second of all, you, Captain, are in direct violation for not only lying to the Iron Legion about where illegal aliens were and what they were doing, but also harboring them and abandoning your volunteer post early.”
Natasha steps forward, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. She angles her body so that all the Council members have a clear view of her, but the hologram of King T’Chaka has the closest view. She’d always respected the king. She hopes she can continue to do so after this.
“I know this sounds far-fetched. Believe me, I can barely believe it myself, and it’s happening to me. But we’re just asking for amnesty; don’t arrest us, provide us with some tech so we can try and figure out how to get back to where we belong, and we’ll be out of your hair.”
Anthony scoffs. Behind Natasha, Tony curses under his breath.
King T’Chaka folds his hands together, the hologram flickering for a second. “You have said that other beings were threatening you, hence your seeking for a new haven. How can we be sure that you will not use our resources and leave us to deal with whatever might come our way, looking for you?”
Natasha gives him a polite smile, remembering words he’d said once, a lifetime ago, a whole world away. “Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.” She adjusts her body so that the Council all has equal sight of her; she’s now addressing all of them, no single one targeted. “Should any threat come your way because of us, we’ll do whatever we can to defend this planet.”
The Council members regard her seriously for a moment. Gamora shifts her weight on her feet next to Natasha. Loki, disguised as Thor, audibly cracks his knuckles nervously.
Finally, King T’Chaka nods. “I vote in favor. It might seem like we are losing by providing technology, but we have gained much more than it appears. The knowledge that alternate realities exist is unprecedented. This is a historic day for research.”
Slowly, the remaining members of the Council vote in favor, following T’Chaka’s lead. The last Council member to vote is, of course, Anthony Stark. Natasha would roll her eyes if he wasn’t a key part in deciding her fate.
“It is a historic day for research. We had no idea alternate realities exist,” Anthony muses, tapping his chin in mock thought. “I wonder why we didn’t know. Could it be because, maybe, someone who knew this was possible omitted this information?” His gaze rests on the elderly Steve.
Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, Stark. It wasn’t my place to tell. I had no idea they were going to come here. I just came to live a life with Peggy.”
“Yes, and may she rest in peace. But,” Anthony continues, his hands waving, “your late wife was one of the ones who voted in favor of SHIELD and Ultron working together. And you were breaking the rules that she helped put in place by not telling us where you’re really from, Captain.” He pauses. “So that makes you over a hundred years old, huh? And you still haven’t been promoted? Not even Major America or Colonel America? Jeez, by this age, I’d have expected you to be at least General America, with the way my dad used to talk about you.”
Tony steps forward. Natasha almost hates the fact that she’s not shaken by two of the same person facing each other.
“Look—can I call you Tony, since I am you? I’m gonna call you Tony,” he says. “I know you don’t want to help us. Hell, I wouldn’t want to help us if I were you. But I have to get back, to my Pepper. We…” His voice cracks. “We have a daughter.”
This immediately makes Anthony freeze. He stares at Tony seriously. “You’re shitting me.”
“I’m not,” Tony says, a watery smile on his face. “Her name is Morgan.”
Anthony shakes his head, a shocked expression on his face, but his mouth is smiling. “After Pepper’s weird uncle?”
“She prefers the term ‘eccentric,’ but yes. That’s the one.”
Anthony looks around at the other Council members. “Okay. Fine. I vote in favor of helping these guys, but under some conditions. First, there are some researchers, myself included, who would like to study time travel and alternate realities further. You all will help with that before we give you any ship or develop any new tech for you. Second, there’s a mission SHIELD has had sitting in the dust for awhile, too big for its normal agents, but too small for the entirety of the Avengers. I think you would be perfect to complete it, Natasha, you said? And…me.”
Natasha regards Anthony curiously. He seems serious enough, but if what Steve said is true and that she wasn’t on the Avengers here, wasn’t even on the good guys’ side, how would he know she would be perfect for the mission? She prepares to ask, but Loki, as his brother, beats her to it.
“This sounds like a mighty plan, friends. I, the god of thunder, approve,” he boasts, grinning exaggeratedly. Natasha bites her tongue; even she could do a better Thor impression. “The lady Gamora and I will answer any questions you have about our different realities while Natasha and Tony go on this mission. Is that all your criteria?”
“Nope,” Anthony answers, reaching into his briefcase on the table. He pulls out a casual jacket and dress pants and tosses them at Tony. “Nanotech, new suit. It’ll help you with the mission. And the third condition, Steve stays here, confined to the Council, until the mission is complete and all research questions have been answered.”
Immediately, Natasha, Tony, and Gamora step forward defensively in front of Steve.
“You’re interning him?” Gamora asks incredulously. “I thought humans were supposed to be peaceful.”
“That’s not something we’re agreeing to,” Natasha adds, glaring at Anthony. She hadn’t particularly liked when Tony had confined Wanda to the compound, but it had been in her home that she knew with someone she trusted, not a government building filled with people who now viewed Steve as an old man whose identity was based on breaking the law.
“Internment is peaceful,” one of the Council members says from a hologram. “He will be fed and looked after until the first two conditions are met. How long he stays here really depends on you all.”
Steve sighs. “Guys, it’s okay. I can last here. They’re right. The internment center here isn’t what you’re picturing. I’ll have my own room, bathroom, three meals a day, outdoor privileges—”
“You get all that at your own house, too,” Natasha reminds him. She looks up at the Council members. “We’ll agree to the first two conditions, but not the third. We’ll do what you want; you’re just going to have to trust us.”
“Trust you?” another Council member scoffs. “You may have gone straight in your world, Ms. Romanoff, but in ours, the Black Widow is one of the top assassins in the world. We’ve been trying to eradicate her for quite some time now. We don’t even know her real name; the underground organizations that are anti-SHIELD and anti-Ultron have much more information than we could ever conceptualize.”
“Natalia Romanova,” Natasha replies evenly, not letting her gaze waver. She cocks her head. “You can trust me. Natasha Romanoff.”
Steve rests his hand gingerly on her shoulder to whisper in her ear. “Nat, I once watched these guys debate for three hours if the SHIELD logo should have straight or curved wings on the bird, and in the end, they just made two logos. Trust me when I say I’ll be treated fine. And if I’m not…” He glances down to his hand that’s peeking out of his pocket, and Natasha follows his gaze. In his hand is his Pym particle, shining red and secretive. “I’ll see you back home.”
“See you in a minute,” Natasha whispers back. She nods to the Council, speaking up. “Fine. We agree to your conditions.”
“Great!” Anthony says, clapping his hands together. “Well, no time to waste. Gamora, Thor, if you could follow me, I’ll drive us over to the labs. I’ll call Selvig and some others…Thor, you know Selvig, right?” Without checking to see if they’re following, Anthony waves at the holograms and they disappear. The other Council members who had been there in person exit the room after.
Gamora nods at Natasha. “Good luck. Do you still have your comm unit?”
Natasha pats her unit, securely tucked in her back waistband. “Got it. If for some reason we’re not responding, don’t let us hold you back from finding your family. Steve has a particle that can help transport him back to our real time, and Tony and I will figure something out.”
“Oh, we will?” Tony asks jokingly.
Natasha turns to Loki. It’s difficult to glare at what looks like a happy Thor, a Thor who hasn’t experienced the death of his mother, father, and entire home planet, but she manages. “Look after each other. Don’t play any tricks. If you mess this up for us, I’ll make you beg for death.” She remembers Clint and Laura and their kids, and she means every word that she speaks.
Loki merely chuckles and nods. “What emotion, Agent Romanoff! I take it to heart. Don’t worry, it is not in my best interest to reveal who I really am here.” He and Gamora begin to exit the room before Anthony gets too far ahead of them. “Remember, there are many rocks in the road, but it will still lead to coming back home.”
When the door shuts behind them, it’s just Natasha, Tony, and Steve left. She’s surprised at the emotion that makes her unable to speak for a minute. She remembers countless banter between the three of them on and off missions and knows that the thrill of cracking jokes in the middle of a life or death situation is close to being over. Steve isn’t going on missions anymore, and Natasha knows once they get back to their true home, Tony isn’t going to ever leave Pepper or Morgan again.
“Well, I should head over before a droid comes to get me,” Steve says. He hugs Natasha tightly and shakes Tony’s head firmly. “Good luck with whatever they give you. I know you guys can do it. If you’re not back in two weeks from today, I’m going to use my last Pym particle and get back; Bruce, Sam, and Bucky are waiting to pull me back there. If you somehow get particles, because no one’s pulling you back—”
“Hey, I know how quantum physics works,” Tony says, giving him a smile. “We’ll figure it out. Two weeks, we’re not back, you go. And don’t tell anyone we’re here, either.”
“Don’t want to get their hopes up or risk anyone coming here after us,” Natasha adds.
“I was just thinking that my surprise presence would literally be the greatest gift any of our friends have ever gotten, but that too.”
Steve wishes them luck again before exiting the room. A moment later, the door opens again, and Coulson walks in.
Natasha’s breath catches in her throat. In her reality, Coulson had been revived and was leading a new secret team, but because that was a secret, she rarely got to see him. The last time she had seen him was Nate Barton’s baby shower.
“I guess Loki didn’t kill him here,” Tony mutters to Natasha. She internally sighs; that’s another secret she’s going to have to explain to him later.
“Hello, Mr. Stark. Ms. Romanoff,” Coulson says, but it’s different than what Natasha is used to. The Coulson she knew had always been affectionate toward her, someone she trusted, but this Coulson was cold and indifferent. “Here are your mission debrief files. Transportation is waiting for you outside. Because you aren’t active-duty SHIELD, or even from this planet, we unfortunately cannot use our resources to provide any backup or extraction should you need it. The UN and International Ultron Pact would have a fit.”
“We understand,” Natasha says dryly.
“I’ve never been on a secret-spy mission before like this,” Tony mentions, grabbing one of the files and holding it up. “But this seems particularly…light. Shouldn’t there be more?”
“That’s all the information we have on the mark,” Coulson says, giving him a tight smile. “And the mission is clear: eliminate the target.”
“And who is that, exactly? I don’t like being handed things. I don’t want to open this.”
“It’s me,” Natasha says shakily, staring at the paper of her file. In large letters, at the top of the page, reads: “TARGET: BLACK WIDOW.”
~
“And what would you like for Christmas, Natalia?”
Eighteen-year-old Natasha grins at the Winter Soldier. She’s proven to be the best of the Red Room, and because of this, Madame B agreed to let one of the Hydra super-soldiers train her to enhance her abilities.
“Are you getting me something, Zima?” she asks coyly, using the Russian word for ‘winter.’ His superiors didn’t give him a name, only call him Soldier, but Natalia found that inhumane. At least Madame B called all her girls different things to give them some semblance of an identity.
In a split second, Zima swings his prosthetic arm toward Natasha’s face. But she’s prepared. When they started training together nearly a year ago, Zima had used this trick on her; distract her with an emotional topic and then attack. She’d fallen for it, the first time. She won’t fall for it again.
Natasha rolls out of the way, dodging, and flips to her feet. She uses the snow on the ground to slide down between Zima’s legs and trip him. When he falls to the ground, she runs at him, wrapping her thighs around his neck and squeezes them tight, attempting to cut off his air supply. He grabs her shoulders and easily throws her to the ground, the snow softening her fall. He’s about to offer her a hand up, this short training session over, when Natasha grabs a snowball she’d made earlier and launches it up at his face, temporarily blinding him. She takes advantage of this to double-kick him in the stomach, and when he doubles over, she uses her legs to flip him to the ground. She kneels on his chest, making a gun with her hands, and pretends to shoot him.
“That was a cute trick,” he says, gently pushing her off. They both sit in the snow, side by side, breathing hard. “But you’re not playing in the snow with most of your marks. That would never happen.”
“I know,” Natasha huffs.
She takes her finger and writes her name in the snow. наталья.
Zima silently uses his finger to trace what Natasha calls him under her name. зима.
“I do wish I could get a Christmas present,” Natasha admits quietly. “I had a mark last Christmas who had gotten his children so many toys and treats there was barely any room for me to hide his body anywhere in the house.”
“You do not need presents, Natalia,” Zima assures her, though from his tone it’s clear he thinks she’s being silly. “You have your sisters and the motherland.”
“And you, Zima,” Natasha says, cheekily smiling, but she means it. He’s the first friend she’s ever had who hasn’t been also been a competitor, and she trusts him with her life. He’s the only person she’s ever met who she can say that about.
Zima wraps an arm around her shoulders. Natasha relishes the warmth. It’s snowing and the temperature is below freezing, but outside is the only place they have privacy. This makes some of the other girls tease Natasha that she and the Winter Soldier are lovers, but that’s not true. Natasha loves him, and she’s sure he loves her, but she doesn’t want to marry him.
There are different types of love, she has learned. There’s the love that she tells Madame B she has for the Red Room; the love she sees in her target’s eyes when he thinks she is going to kiss him before she actually kills him; the love her sisters show on their faces when Madame B lets them have extra dessert; the love she has for Yelena, the second best, even though they’ve tried to kill each other on multiple occasions; the love she has for Zima, for Winter, even though she doesn’t know his birth name and she isn’t sure he knows it either and they have to sneak away to dangerous conditions to have a single conversation alone.
Her love for Zima is her personal favorite.
This love isn’t dangerous, she has reasoned with herself, because if Madame B made her choose between the Red Room and Zima, she would choose the Red Room. She knows that he would choose Hydra and his superiors over her. It doesn’t bother her. It might bother her more if he would choose her over Hydra, because then that means he’s not the best, and then he shouldn’t be training her.
“I don’t know if I would consider myself a gift,” he says, a playful tone to his voice. “I didn’t get you anything for Christmas.”
“I didn’t get you anything, either,” Natasha points out.
“But you would, if Madame B wouldn’t punish you for it. I didn’t even think about getting you a gift. Why would I? Who are you, even? What’s your name again?” Zima asks, jokingly nudging her.
Natasha giggles as they roll around in the snow. “Who are you? I only associate with people who actually know what all the positions are of ballet.”
“Oh! She thinks she’s funny, this one!” Zima exclaims, tugging on a lock of red hair. “I go back to the cryo tomorrow and this is how she says goodbye.”
Natasha laughs, but the mirth behind the action is gone. Whenever Zima is frozen, it always takes much of her effort to coax him back to where they were in their friendship, to get him to actually speak and act like the man she knows. Whenever they’re training right after he ends a stasis stay, he forgets it’s a training session and becomes dangerously close to killing her, forgetting what they’re doing, forgetting who she is for real.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” she whispers as she hugs him tightly. “I’ll have a proper present for you. My next mission is to America.” She’s never told Zima, but she guesses that he was originally from there. His accent is great, almost impeccable, and he can speak nearly as many languages as she can, but there’s a certain way he pronounces certain words that makes her certain he isn’t from her Russia.
“I’ll have a present for you, too, Natalia,” he replies, his voice muffled by her hair covering his mouth. Natasha tries not to frown at his words; they both know he won’t have a present for her because he won’t remember to get her one.
“You don’t have to get me anything, Zima,” she assures him. “All I ask is that you could at least recognize me.”