Forgotten Ghost | Natasha Romanoff

Chapter 42: Hope

The rhythmic, soothing shaking of the prison van was not helping Katya's tiredness. She had trouble keeping her eyes open and wanted nothing more than to lean her head back and fall asleep. But that couldn't happen, not now, not when she suspected their fight wasn't over yet. 

It was stupid to hope for some miracle that would get them out of there, she knew that. Hope was dangerous, especially when they were led to their deaths, but Katya needed it to stay alive. 

A little bit of hope is effective, effective in wanting to stay alive and see what comes next. Katya had a weird relationship with hope. When she was first taken from her home and forced into the lifestyle of killing, hope had flared in her chest like a big flame. Someday, she would get out of there and be done with the horror. Live a simple life. 

But the more time passed, the more she saw that flame of hope go out. See, when you keep hoping and nothing happens for days, weeks, years, the more you believe it will never happen. It was also painful to hope, she was just torturing herself by not accepting her reality. 

Katya knew she had to let go of it, and she did for a while, when she got really low and saw no way out. But that little flame was always smoldering and she named that fire the reason she was still alive today.

Also in this moment, it wasn't letting her down. These few days had come with all kinds of surprises and weird turns and Katya suspected it wasn't going to stop now.

She hoped help would come soon though, because Natasha turned paler by the second and had trouble staying conscious. Katya was worried that if her wound wasn't patched up soon, she would bleed out in the van. 

Sam shared worried glances with her, and Katya could sense that he desperately wanted to help Natasha, but he could nothing more than sit and watch. He was the least banged up and confused of them all. Katya thought he didn't fully realize what was happening and the danger he was in. She bet he regretted getting mixed up with them. 

Steve, who sat next to Katya, hadn't moved in a long time and his confusion and worry was radiating off him. He stared at the cuffs around his wrists with an empty look in his eye and the gears running in his head. 

From what Katya had pieced together herself, the Winter Soldier apparently was Steve's old buddy Bucky who had reportedly fallen to his death back in '45. She understood nothing of how he was here today, but she could understand why he turned into the killing machine he is. HYDRA has a way of taking out your soul and replacing it with an animal, completely erasing everything a person once was. 

From what she had seen and heard from the Winter Soldier, was that he was nothing more than the monster they made him. But she suspected Steve wasn't going to give up on his friend so easily. 

He was the first to break the tense silence. ''It was him.'' He didn't look up when he spoke, and Katya thought this was more him thinking out loud than talking to the others. ''He looked right at me and he didn't even know me.''

Sam, who was the only one with the energy to answer, looked away from Natasha to Steve. ''How's that even possible? It was like seventy years ago.''

''Zola,'' Steve said immediately, like he had already figured it all out. ''Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and-''

''None of that's your fault, Steve.'' Natasha interrupted him weakly, her voice barely audible. It clearly cost a lot of energy to talk. She could sense Steve's guilt, even if he didn't say it out loud. 

He ignored her words. Clearly, stubbornness was also a big word in his dictionary. ''Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.''

Katya had heard the conversation, but it was all very vague and distant, like nothing really registered in her head. She wished they would be at HQ already so she could sleep in her cell. If they weren't going to execute her immediately that was. They must have some big plan to do it, make a spectacle out of it.