Natasha Romanoff (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fallaces_sunt) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ten_fwd2014-06-03 12:11 pm
fallaces_sunt) wrote in ten_fwd2014-06-03 12:11 pm
Entry tags:
Deck Eleven: Holodeck Two (Volga River, circa 1930s)
This is not the smartest idea she's ever had. The library is open; she could be reading, reading just about anything she'd like. She could be in the gym working the edge off her tension. Hell, she could turn this holodeck into a gym that she's familiar with. Test out her ability to actually handle the fake reality with something safe and mundane.
That would be sensible.
Instead, Natasha is sitting on a low pier on the west bank of the Volga River, her slacks rolled up to her knees as she dangles her toes in the water and very carefully monitors her unease.
It's late spring, a vague point in the 1930s. The only people are those working on the occasional cargo ship as they travel up and down the broad expanse of the river, but there are plenty of birds. Location, just south enough from Volgograd that she can't see it.
This might not be the smartest idea she's ever had, but she knows better than to actually go to her hometown. And at least she's got a copy of the complete Sherlock Holmes stories to keep her company.
[OOC: As per normal Trek holodeck set-ups, anyone can walk in as long as they don't mind entering in mid-program.
Open until I say otherwise! :-) ]
That would be sensible.
Instead, Natasha is sitting on a low pier on the west bank of the Volga River, her slacks rolled up to her knees as she dangles her toes in the water and very carefully monitors her unease.
It's late spring, a vague point in the 1930s. The only people are those working on the occasional cargo ship as they travel up and down the broad expanse of the river, but there are plenty of birds. Location, just south enough from Volgograd that she can't see it.
This might not be the smartest idea she's ever had, but she knows better than to actually go to her hometown. And at least she's got a copy of the complete Sherlock Holmes stories to keep her company.
[OOC: As per normal Trek holodeck set-ups, anyone can walk in as long as they don't mind entering in mid-program.
Open until I say otherwise! :-) ]
no subject
"We're partners," she says at last. "We built that. And we built it thanks to missions, and training, and late night pizza. On what we did together. Not...because we both remember how rare telephones used to be.
But Steve...Okay. You remember the Depression. Well, we didn't have that in my country. We had a famine. And if we talked about it, we were arrested for spreading anti-Soviet propaganda." Her mouth twists. "There was a lot of things we were arrested for saying. The only reason anyone who wasn't there knows now is that eventually, word got out. You can even buy books about it. In an actual bookstore.
The wonders of the modern age."
no subject
Steve isn't a spy. His life is an open book, and to have something like this in common is too great a coincidence to not be intentional. He's tried opening up to Natasha, and she's shut him down. It's not easy being that honest about what he's going through with anyone but Peggy, but he wanted to think...
Looks like they're just not there yet. He hears what she's saying, carefully taking his heart off his sleeve and swallowing down the burst of anger that rises in its place. The point he takes away is that there's information she'll never volunteer, that the bond he sees is not one she does, and whatever he's looking for he should look elsewhere. Honesty and trust between partners, that's the most important thing to Steve.
And they gave him a spy.
He catches the dryness in her last comment, shooting her a sidelong glance. His lips part, realization washing over him. For years now she's been giving him things to catch up on. Movies, music, history, science; he makes lists so he won't forget between missions. He thought the 20th century Russian history was just her way of getting him to show interest in things that happened outside of his own country, but maybe it was the only way she had of telling him about her past.
He chuckles wryly. "Like I told you, I've been busy. Guess now I've got plenty of time to read up here."
no subject
"Guess you do."
no subject
He has more questions. This conversation is going to play on repeat in his head for days before he can really come to grips with it, but he's already started internalizing everything again, sticking those thoughts and memories he can't articulate back inside his head. SHIELD wanted him to see a counsellor after the Battle of New York, but he can't see that the guy did him any good.
Some burdens you just have to carry yourself, he guesses.
"You still want to go for a run?" he asks, voice grittier than earlier but without the anger of a few minutes ago. He seems distant, half here, but he turns to give her his attention without shying away from her eyes, and he plans to take her recommendations more seriously in the future.
In fact, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his notebook, quickly scribbling 1936, Volga, Soviet famine while he waits for her answer.
no subject
(The intensity of that terror really kicked off in 1937; Steve's a smart boy, he'll catch on.)
She meets his gaze, and tilts her head a bit. But it's more playful than the intensity of before, a willingness to not shut him out completely.
"Yep. If you're still game, Rogers."
no subject
"To be honest, a run sounds good," he says, slipping the pencil into the spine of the notebook and putting both away. He's got a lot of frustration to work out of his system. "And it'll be a good opportunity to see what this place can throw at us."
He smiles at her, the kind of diplomatic smirk that doesn't reach his eyes all the way. But there is one more thing that should be said. He glances at his feet, twisting his heel into the dock. "Thank you for trusting me."
no subject
Then she smiles, and highlights just how serious she'd been only a moment before.
"I know better than to race you...so north or south?" she asks, rising briefly on her toes to stretch her feet. Running sounds like a very, very good idea.
no subject
"North," he says, squinting into the distance. He likes the look of the terrain, and there's something about going north that feels like coming out on top. "Lucky for you I'm not dressed to race, so I think I'll keep a leisurely pace."
He smirks, knowing she gets what "leisurely" means for him. Hey, she still might be able to keep up if she changes her mind.
no subject
"Gracious of you, Rogers," she says, making a face at him. Captain America can be a jerk, who knew.
Not that she objects to jerks; she's one herself.
Which is a good reason for why she starts to take off towards the path.
Keep up, Cap.
no subject
Steve's still stretching when the blur of red locks go screaming past him, each stride she takes echoing in his bones from the wooden dock underfoot.
"Oh, it's going to be like that, is it?" he calls after her, shaking his head. All right, fine. If she wants to make it a contest, then they'll make it a contest. It's a hell of a lot easier than talking, anyway.
Steve jets off, the creak and shudder of old wood rattling like it might come apart, anger sinking into the river beneath like pebbles lost to the deep.