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You'd Probably Be Hard To Find; 05-25-erly aftn-(Nat,Laynia,Mikhail)
Topic Started: Mar 24 2015, 12:21 AM (31 Views)
Black Widow
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Moye proshloye eto moye
Creepy Crawly - Admin
[Con'td from Sailing Home Again]

"I admit, Natalia, to some curiosity," Laynia Petrovna began, in the quietly amiable manner that had always seemed to be her way. Darkstar slid into the chair opposite her at the table, watching her with keen, if red rimmed and shadowed, brown eyes. Hovering behind her like an exaggerated shadow, the tall, dark, and silent figure of Mikhail Rasputin, revealing little in either his face or his eyes, even to her, but that was and had always been his way.

They were all well enough acquainted with one another - years of shared history and experiences; those that were good and those best left forgotten - and Natasha paid it little mind, only meeting the broad-shouldered man's eyes briefly and with a nearly imperceptible incline of her head, as the other woman pushed a welcome cup of tea toward her, across the breakfast table that was set to one side of the teleporter's room. Or, Natasha amended, the room that now belonged to her and Mikhail, it being clear he had no intention of leaving her side now that he was again stationed there.

"Always, we are glad to be of any help to you that we might, but you were..." A moment as Laynia seemed to search for the word, finally finishing with, "zagadochny." Cryptic. That drew a hint of a smile, though it was a wan one, Natasha knew, from the Black Widow. And a similar one from Darkstar as she qualified, "By even your own standards."

"Yes, I suppose I was," she agreed easily enough, casually enough, picking up the utilitarian, SHIELD issued cup and sipping from it slowly. Ordering her words and thoughts before lowering it back to the table. Studying Laynia and then Mikhail through shuttered green eyes.

How to begin?

It wasn't a thing she normally struggled with. Not the Black Widow. Always a plan or a strategy. An approach or a procedure. Even when there was no need. It was simply a habit of her existence, even with those where it had no reason and should have no place. Yes, she knew herself and her own habits, but this...this was not a normal thing.

Even by her own standards of 'normal'.

Not to speak of, not to request. Certainly not to attempt to explain, though she supposed some practice at that wouldn't do any harm. There would soon come a time when explanations would certainly be necessary and would just as certainly need to be convincing.

"Something troubles you, Nemnogo Pok," the dark haired man interjected into the brief span of silence. Neither question nor conjecture, it was simply a statement of fact Mikhail made. The man had been wasted as a cosmonaut. He should've been KGB.

Natalia's mouth raised up at one corner, along with an accompanying eyebrow. She resisted the urge to sigh. Little Spider. Only Mikhail would ever conceive of using that form of address. Certainly he was the only one who would do so and expect to get away with it.

As she'd done before, Natasha let it pass with nothing more than that, leaving it to Laynia and her brief look and shake of her head to quell him if anything were capable of doing so. She suspected not, but there was always a chance, the Black Widow supposed.

"Many things trouble me," she returned mildly, eying the large man over the rim of her cup as she lifted it to take another, unhurried sip. That drew a simple nod of acknowledgement, and of understanding, from Mikhail after a moment. Then he removed himself from behind Darkstar to take the chair next to her, dwarfing both it and the table almost comically, though there was nothing comical about this man.

Department x had siphoned the humor from him long ago. Broken him open and attempted to rip out his humanity, as it had done to all of them in one way or another. Tried to replace it with their own programming, their own agenda. No regard for his sense of self. His self. It had...not gone to plan. They were all more fortunate than most outside this room would ever know or suspect that he'd manged to hold the shreds of his sanity together. Or perhaps that a very young Laynia Petrovna had been there to hold those shredded scraps and stitch them back together for him through a force of will much greater than her years.

Now, all that remained of the man Mikhail Rasputin had once been only truly appeared in the presence of the blonde woman across from her. It was a thing Natasha herself understood all too well. Even now, she couldn't say she was certain who Natalia Romanova had been. Or might've been. Before there was the Black Widow of the Red Room.

It was that, as much as the more practical aspects, that had brought her here, to these two people. These two countrymen who were more recent products of the program that had formed her. One of them, in a twisted sort of irony that only Russia could seem to produce, what and who she was only because of Natasha herself. Groomed to lead the group that would finally bring the traitorous Black Widow to justice for her defection. Her crimes against Mother Russia.

Laynia Petrovna had had other ideas, when it was all said and done, and now they were here, expatriates all, and doing what they could to remove the columns of red from their respective ledgers.

Again, Laynia watched her with brown eyes tinged with the red of sorrow. ::Then tell us, Natalia,:: Darkstar began, reverting to Russian, hand curled around her own mug, ::what troubling thing it is that you would speak of today?::

Direct, and that was hardly surprising. Laynia had never been a spy or a covert operative. She'd been a soldier, groomed for that from a child. Directness still came naturally to her, but it did not come without compassion. Or without interest. In some things, Natasha was also direct, but this was more complicated and the redhead found she needed to force the words to the tip of her tongue. Wait for them to gather there as she looked down into her tea.

::A suspicion,:: the Black Widow began, choosing her words in her native tongue as well. Carefully. Perhaps it was an illusion that that somehow made them come more easily. ::Perhaps a folly,:: she added by way of admission. Not a particularly easy one, she found, lifting her eyes back to the other woman. ::I need information, if it exists.::

A lifting of blonde brows from Darkstar. Curiosity mixed with more than a hint of understandable surprise before her eyes turned toward Mikhail. There was a shared look before they returned to her own ::This is more your specialty than my own,:: the Belarussian woman began slowly. Thoughtfully. Pausing for a sip of her own tea. ::What information could we have access to that you do not?::

For any other thing, the question would be a valid one. For more than a natural lifetime, she'd built a network of contacts and resources. All across the world, in any given country, any imaginable government. In this, none of them would be useful in the least. The risk was too great, if there was truth to her suspicions.

::There are a few places, still, that exceed even my considerable reach,:: Natalia answered dryly, a smile that wasn't a smile at all finding its way to her face again. ::What I seek, if it exists, I will need assistance to find. Only a handful would have any knowledge of it at all,:: most of those, long in their graves, ::and even fewer access to what might remain, if anything.::

After all this time, the changes in government, the changes in the country itself, there might be nothing. Not so much as a scrap left. Destroyed, as she knew so much had been. If anything remained, she would never be let near it.

A slow, considering nod from Darkstar and Mikhail's cobalt eyes watching her. Natasha could feel the weight of them, even before she turned her attention to the dark haired man with the nearly unreadable expression.

::Tell us, Little Spider, what it is you seek?:: he requested simply, seeming to look into her as much as he looked at her. Who knew, with this man? Perhaps he was.

Natasha allowed herself a moment, but only that, before she spoke the words. Said them aloud as she hadn't in more years than she could remember, holding the eyes of Mikhail Rasputin. Brought that piece of her past to the present as she'd never imagined that she would. "Zimniy soldat." The words hung there for the space of a moment as Laynia frowned but Mikhail's expression remained as smooth as Natasha's own. ::If there is anything to be found, I pursue what there may be of the Winter Soldier.::

Another look to Mikhail, perplexed and not a little confused, from Darkstar. Then a shake of her blonde head, brows drawn together as she turned back. ::Natalia...:: she began, hesitant and the words trailing away. For herself, the Black Widow understood. It must seem as if she sought information on Ded Moroz, or Baba Yaga. ::This is myth. Propaganda. You, of all people, must know this. You speak of ghosts. A tale to frighten the young.::

Natasha shook her head, noting that Mikhail still held that same, level expression to Layina's more animated one. ::He was no myth.::

Her own memories might often be suspect, but of these she was certain.

Mikhail watched her a moment longer, seeming to weigh some intangible thing in his own mind, then spoke. ::You knew him.::

Again, it wasn't a question or a speculation though the former Soviet spy nodded as though it were as Darkstar's expression became one of surprised confusion, looking between the two of them. Mikhail Rasputin, she was even more convinced, had missed his calling. ::Long ago, in another lifetime.::

Or, perhaps, she wasn't making proper use of her own, Natalia reconsidered, studying the large man in turn. There was no surprise there at all, even to her own, keen eyes, and she didn't think he was an actor of that caliber.

::I don't understand,:: Laynia began, brown eyes moving between the two of them. After what seemed some consideration, her perplexed gaze settling on Mikhail, ::Though it seems you have no such troubles, Mischa.::

::You know something.:: Perhaps she was reduced to stating the obvious, but it was undoubtedly true. His face told her that and so did his eyes. Some flicker there, in their depths. ::Tell me.::

It wasn't a demand. Not quite. Neither was it a request.

::I know little,:: Mikhail Rasputin demurred, but no. That, she knew instinctively, wasn't quite the truth. ::Though I do know that the Winter Soldier was no myth. He was spoken of, still, during my training in Siberia, and he was spoken of as a man. A skilled assassin. A relatively successful project that they would have liked to have improved upon. Expanded. There was still a...great interest,:: he finished as her attention fixed firmly to him.

Yes. Yes, there would have been. It was their entire purpose. The quest for the better soldier. The ultimate super-soldier. The quintessential assassin. Examples of their many and varied methods were sitting at this table.

::Tell me,:: Natalia said again, meeting the eyes of the dark haired man and leaving no room for argument. ::Tell me whatever it is you know, Mikhail Rasputin.::
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Black Widow
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Moye proshloye eto moye
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The teapot had been emptied and what little was left in their mugs had grown cold long ago. It had passed from their collective notice as Mikhail had passed to her what things that he knew. The things he had heard and seen, as far as his memory would allow, of his time in Siberia.

It was a beginning. A starting place. Plans were made, wheels set into motion. Now, the wait began. To see if any of this bore fruit.

"I'll get the message to Nikolai as soon as I'm able. Today, if possible," Laynia assured her. Still not entirely sure, Natalia suspected, that any of this would end in more than a wild goose chase. To be honest, she felt much the same. What she suspected, herself, and what Mikhail had been able to added to that, were one thing. For her, they were enough. Would have been enough. They were not, however, enough allow her to disrupt the lives of those close to her who she respected. Who had had those lives disrupted quite enough.

This was a delicate thing. It would be a painful thing. Pain she would not bring to a friend without being able to bring some hope along with it. Better that it never be known at all than to be only another regret. An even worse regret that nothing could be done for or about.

There were regrets enough to go around.

"He'll do his best, Natalia," Darkstar told her sincerely, looking at her again with those earnest, concerned brown eyes. "But I don't know how long it might take, or if he'll be able to-"

"I know," the redhead assured her, cutting short the explanation she had no real need of, though doing it gently enough. Even the leader of the Winter Guard had limitations. It was a risk. A great one, and she knew that, too. But one Nikolai Krylenko, the Red Guardian, would undertake for the twin sister that he still adored, where ever she might have chosen to place her loyalty. "The chances are slim he'll find anything at all, even if he manages to access those records. Regardless, give your brother my thanks, however it turns out."

Thanks Nikolai might have no use for, coming from her, but they would be given all the same.

"As soon as we know, you will know," Mikhail added and Natasha nodded her thanks to that as she rose. Time to take her leave. There were other places to be and a day of mourning didn't come to a stop to make room for walking too long in the past.

All she could hope to do here had been done.

"I don't suppose I have to ask that you keep this to yourselves," the Black Widow commented to her fellow countrymen as she pushed her chair back against the table. With no obvious place to deposit her used mug, she left it at the table.

"You have our silence, until you no longer need it," Laynia Petrovna confirmed, rising with her, as did Mikhail.

"That is all I can ask." That left little else to be said and she turned for the door, then paused, and turned back briefly, this time with something closer to a genuine smile. "Perhaps there is one more thing," Natalia continued, as though an afterthought. "Accept his proposal when he asks again, Laynia. It's the season for new beginnings."

There was a surprised laugh from Darkstar and something of a smile of his own from Mikhail and that saw her out of the door and into the hallway well enough.
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