Control

Separation

Chapter Six

1946

I don't know how many weeks pass after that. I try not to think about it. I am not allowed to leave Zola's office without him as my personal escort...and, most often, we have the Winter Soldier at our side.

I speak to no one, even when spoken to.

I have become a shadow on the wall - another cog in the machine. Just like it's supposed to be. A pretty flower that is better seen and observed than heard. I am never asked to do more than is expected of a secretary, even when there are whispers of the Winter Soldier becoming extremely injured.

Nothing concerns me or phases me. I don't really feel anything other than a void somewhere in my chest. I am hoping that, with sincerity, I can fade away into the background. I am hoping that no one will even notice that I am disappearing, that I simply cease to exist.

Unfortunately, I have started to understand what my "new friend'' had been telling me: I was just as much a prisoner as he was. The only way out of HYDRA truly was in a pine box.

I needed to get out of HYDRA.

Zola has not said anything about changing my attire back to men's shirts and slacks. I don't even know that he noticed. He barely speaks to me, except to give me orders. I do not understand how I am still useful to him, but, I do my job. I ignore the Winter Soldier standing in Zola's office. I go back to my rooms every night without fanfare. I shove away my pain. I cry myself to sleep in the darkness.

I cannot last much longer.

I do not know how long this continues. Every day blurs together into weeks. Maybe it has even been months....until, one day, something changes from my routine...

...and it comes in the form of someone leaving something on my desk.

As I am moving files, I notice a very small package, wrapped in brown paper. I feel my face scrunch up in confusion as I pick it up. It's the first real expression I remember feeling in a long time. I look around the office, but there is no one there, except the Winter Soldier, who is ever on guard and muzzled when Zola is present. He isn't going to tell me who left it.

He hasn't spoken a word to me since he carried me through the bunker back to Zola.

I remind myself, with a tinge of...some kind of foreign emotion...that this was better. This was as it should be.

I gently unwrap the package, barely the size of the palm of my hand and I find a small piece of gelatin. I feel my face break into a smile, effortless and painless. "Turkish delight," I whisper, looking at the pink confection. I start to laugh, quietly, remembering how my grandmother used to make them for me. I quickly pop the piece of candy into my mouth, as if someone were going to take it from me, or punish me for the small enjoyment.

The taste of mint and rose water spreads over my palette and I can't help but feel myself tear up. I forgot this taste. I forgot how much I loved this taste. It felt like I was back in my grandmother's arms, in her kitchen in the middle of Indiana. I take a deep breath, knowing that I have to resume work, but, at least, I feel...something...other than numb.

The next few days, things "appear" on my desk without warning. I don't know how they get there, as Zola rarely lets me leave my alcove, but, one moment, my desk is cleared and, in the next, I am given a treat. There are pieces of chocolate that didn't come from my desk, a folded piece of paper that looks like it might be a plane, another piece of Turkish delight...each one making me smile just a little brighter and each one helping me to hold myself together, just a little while longer.