[open]

[krasnaya_vdova]

who: Ava Orlova & Other People
what: Memories
when: Memshare Event
where: Dreamscapes
warnings: Emotions, shitty familial relationships, violence, Red Room type trauma, child murder, child torture, I'll update as needed.

[ooc: All memshares are dreamscapes unless your name is Natasha Romanoff. If we didn't plot something, feel free to tag-in and get something random, or PM me or hit me up at natalia_vdova for any and all plotting needs.]


For Tony

The darkness bleeds into familiar sounds, hushed voices almost drowned out by the soft drone of the engines of a departing quinjet. Ava watches her own memories, doesn't notice that she's not alone at first as three people approach what's clearly the SHIELD Triskelion. There's Ava' looking a little younger, but also a little pale, a bottle of water clutched deathly tight in one hand. There's a dark-haired boy walking next to her, holding her hand, and then there's a rather sour looking Natasha Romanoff. The similarity between Ava and Nat is more obvious when they're standing so close together. They approach the security door, and as it slides open, there's a familiar face: Tony's face. Briefcase in hand, three-piece suit that probably costs as much as a low-end car.

The boy stops dead in his tracks, wide-eyed as Ava stops too. "Is that--?" He asks, like he's seen a ghost. Or, you know, an Avenger.

Natasha just shrugs, a touch of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Like I told you. I have friends in low places." Friends. That's Natasha's word for Tony.

"Agent Romanoff, what are you doing here? Or do you just happen to be stopping by to submit your proprietary plan for alternative energy subsidies, too?" He grins, teasing lightly.

"Not so much," Natasha says, crossing the distance and pulling him in for a brief but easy hug. "I was hoping you'd be here, actually."

"First Saturday of the month. Where else would I be?" Tony points out, a cock of his head to the side. "I thought you were off hunting bad guys in Bahrain?" It's friendly, the easy conversation of two people that keep in touch enough to know each others' schedules, including what part of the world she's in shooting at people.

"Turns out the bad guys are hunting me. Surprise." Natasha quips with an easy shrug as she pulls back a step. The two teens just watching quietly for the moment; the boy in shock and Ava's a little pale, like she's maybe not having the best day.


For Bucky (616)

Ava doesn't sleep easily, even now that she has her own room. Nightmares and memories, but tonight it feels different. She's there, watching her memories, like some kind of ghostly observer. Less visceral. The world fades into being, two teenagers in a room in the Triskelion; all grey walls, perfunctory bunk beds that seemed like they'd fit better in a prison, blue lights on the door lock. Ava's clearly younger, but only by a few years, maybe seventeen. The boy seems about the same age; short dark brown hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders. He looks at Ava like she puts oxygen in the room, though Ava seems distracted by something else, a tension as she moves. She lets go of his hand, pulling her backpack over her shoulder and getting ready to open the door, sparing a conspiratorial look back at him.

He nods, "You go left, I'll go right."

But Ava shakes her head. "I've got a better idea." She murmurs, opening the door. "Hey," she calls, getting the attention of the SHIELD agents patrolling near the door. She puts her hands up, a charming smile, brown eyes guileless. Just a girl, not a threat. "It's just me. Can I ask you for a favor?"

She holds up a roughed-up iPod, and manages to talk one of the agents into letting her use his comm to test the speaker, drawing him in when he reaches to retrieve it. It takes them a few seconds to put down the agents; Ava slams the door into his skull hard, though the sound thuds more than rings. She steps into the room as his partner charges, and the boy grabs him and slams his head into the frame of the bunkbed.

In a matter of seconds they've dragged the bodies out of immediate view, stolen the agents' earpieces, key cards, and sidearms, though the commlink the boy takes seems to be broken. It takes them twelve seconds after that to make it to the elevator. He's about to press the keycard to the panel, but Ava grabs his hand, touching a finger to her ear.

Instead, they slip down the hall to an alcove where the stairwell is; another two agents. Ava grins as she looks over at him, magnetic. "Now you take left, I'll take right."

Comments

[advanced]

He shouldn't be surprised.

He's had other people invading his dreams, so why shouldn't he be in someone else's? It's actually more of a relief, he'd rather be seeing the intimate details of someone else's life than have his splashed all over without any opportunity for hiding it. Though once he sees who's stood next to him, his heart does go out to her a bit.

People like them, they shouldn't be laid bare like this.

"...sorry."

[krasnaya_vdova]

"It's not your fault," she answers softly, looking over at him. She'd been in his dreams, so she supposed there was some parity to it at least. That doesn't mean she hates it any less.

The blackness gives rises to a different sort of darkness. There's a younger version of Ava here; a child, maybe seven years old. The walls are some sort of Russian military complex, all metal and barred doors. There are men in Russian military uniforms, and a group of young girls in grey clothes that don't seem nearly warm enough for the cold. They all look to be around the same age as Ava, but she's small, petite, underfed.

Beside him, she tenses, and there's recognition. "I don't usually remember this so clearly," she comments, as if that can detract from the horror that she knows is coming. And it is clear, all sharp details, down to the stars on their shoulder boards and the guns the soldiers carry.

[advanced]

The surroundings are at once alien and completely familiar. He might not know this exact base or those exact soldiers, but he's been in places like this over decades and he knows what's coming.

"Dreams make things clear that we'd rather stay muddied, and never let us see the things we wish we could remember."

He almost reaches out to her, an aborted twitch of his right arm, but in the end he doesn't know her well enough for that.

[krasnaya_vdova]

For Ava, this was her home for a period of years, even if it was never any home at all. There's a sad nod of her head at his words. "You're right. I try to remember my mother sometimes, but I always end up here," she admits softly. They don't know each other well enough for him to offer comfort, or for her to ask for it, but she does shift just a little closer. Proximity is good, even when nothing about this is.

There's a sharp bark of a command in Russian, and the girls form into two lines, heads slightly bowed to the floor, watching as a man approaches them. The girls are hard, despite their young age. Hard and hungry, grasping to survive. Ava's probably about seven, the only redhead, and if James is sharp he might catch that her eyes are brown here instead of the sharp blue of the young woman that stands near him in the dreamscape.

"But you shouldn't have to see this. No one should," she murmurs quietly. What she really means is that she doesn't want anyone to see. The very sight of him makes her flinch: Ivan Somorodov. In her dreams he was usually a demon with blacked out eyes, but this is worse. Just a man in a uniform. It makes her shoulders tense, watching as he looks them over. Ava was his favorite. But in a place like that, being anyone's favorite wasn't a good thing.

He points to her and one of the other girls, and they move to the center of the room. Ava's smaller, but well: she's still standing here.

[advanced]

Bucky knows what she means. There's no way that she actually means that he doesn't deserve to see this stuff, because he's seen this and worse before now, he's lived a long time and there's nothing that could be done here that he hasn't already gone through himself. It's just a case of privacy, of not wanting to show those ragged edges to anyone else.

He turns to face her, grown and aware of him, rather than pay attention to the training that seems likely to be about to begin. It's a small concession to trying not to see, but it's the best he can do.

"This is your dream, perhaps you can change it if you try?"

For Natasha (616)

[krasnaya_vdova]

She's starting to hate this feeling. Watching her memories. Knowing that someone else is watching, even if she doesn't always know who at first. It's the interior of an airplane, low murmured voices that at first don't quite form into words. Ava's a little bit younger here, probably about seventeen, and there's a boy next to her, seated in first class with the arm up between them so she can lean into his side. Dark hair, warm eyes, but he looks confused, like he can't quite piece something together.

"How could I forget that? And why don't I remember my mom being there?" He reaches up, running fingers through the strands of his dark brown hair.

"People forget things," Ava says softly, like it's a truth of the world. Something she knows too well, like she understands what it is to lose parts of your memory. "Even dogs."

The boy quiets for a moment, then he looks down at her, eyes studying her face. "You didn't." There's a darkness that settles over her face, shadows that fall over Ava's brown eyes. "How do you remember anything about me, Ava? We never met before, I'm pretty sure about that."

"Alexei," she speaks slowly, hesitant. "Sometimes I remember much, much more than that," she admits with an uncomfortable shrug of her shoulders.

"You mean like how you know things about Natasha Romanoff? How I know Russian?" He pushes and Ava nods, though you can tell in how her body language becomes more closed-off just how much she dislikes this conversation.

"It's not always about her. And it didn't just start now." She looks up at him, watching his reaction.

"Who are your dreams about? Besides my dog?" There's a pause, like he's trying to fit pieces together. "Wait-- you mean me?"

Ava nods. "I dreamed you. About you. Before I even met you."

[latrodectus]

Natasha draws a breath in— or maybe she isn't really breathing. It's hard to tell. She has an impulse not to look, the way you turn out of politeness when someone's skirt gets caught, but of course she can't, of course she wouldn't, anyway. Natasha isn't that kind of hero. She watches every bit of it, trying to fit things together, but of course they don't. Dreams, Russian, the way Ava closes herself off with her shoulders. And another name—

"Alexei?"

It was a common name, of course, and she didn't recognize the boy. But it had been her husband's name, the one the Red Room had taken from her, the man she thought she had loved for a long time. She must have. More than anything else, that was the loss that she'd sharpened, until it was something she could hold by the hilt.

But it was surely a coincidence.

[krasnaya_vdova]

It's Natasha's voice that catches her attention. She hadn't been able to help staring, watching herself, and watching him. Alexei-- breathing, talking, trying to puzzle out the pieces of a mess that Ava hadn't entirely worked out, even now. He was alive, and Ava lost herself in that for a few moments. It's not until she recognizes the voice that she turns to face the other woman, takes a step or two closer in the dream.

"He was--" She tries to find the words, and she falters, because she's never really had to explain this before. It's her secret tragedy, the thing that had finally bridged the gap between her and Natasha in her world. That loss that only they could really share. She speaks of him in the past-tense, which probably says enough. "--I loved him," she says finally. It's probably the most true thing she could say, even aside from trying to dodge the tangled puzzle of her life.

The words come sharp and anything but weak. She hasn't spoken them outloud since the aftermath of the fight in the cisterns in Istanbul. Not since she felt him turn to marble. The memories don't pause, though and Ava tries to keep her suffering buried. Even if it hadn't been just her suffering.

In the memory, Ava's blushing as she finally gives up and pulls out her sketchpad. "Just don't freak out, okay?" She asks Alexei. "I've never shown anyone except Oksana." And she puts it in his lap and he thumbs through it. An old house in old Stalingrad, a dark forest in the snow, a dog, a young boy with that dog, and more. There were other pictures too-- the Avengers, Natasha herself, crumbling buildings, facilities, some sort of Russian lab, and even the Bolshoi theater. But the boys' life was there in her carefully drawn sketches that captured every line: Ava had been drawing him since long before they met.

"But I don't remember this," he says slowly, somewhere between awed and horrified. And then, quieter: "Why can't I remember?"

Memory is tricky, for both of the teens. They talk about the house in one of the drawings, and Alexei frowns, studies it a little closer. "You've pulled off a weird perspective here, though. You'd basically have to be standing on the roof of the house across the street to see it like that."

He turns the page and points to another drawing. "This one, this just happened. Sofi's party. On Dante's back porch. This one looks like you drew it from all the way at the end of their yard, where the hedge is." Alexei shakes his head. "Which is only weird because I thought I heard something out there that night."

"Busted. I've been living in Dante's hedge for three years now; he's not too observant." Ava makes a joke out of it, but behind her eyes, there's a creeping realization. She seems unsettled, but she rests her head against him, and he tugs her a little closer. She doesn't sleep. The memory starts to shift, seeming to morph into something less claustrophobic than the airplane.

[latrodectus]

"I knew someone by that name, once." She doesn't know Alexei at all, anymore, and last she saw him he was wearing that ridiculous ninja suit. (What is it with men, and their fascination with ninja?) He was sill stewing in some prison, somewhere. He must have been different, before. It is a very common name.

But the dreaming doesn't show her Alexei. Instead, Natasha is sitting in a cabin, between a lake and a forest, light streaming in through the windows. An old woman sits, stick straight, with mirrored glasses, wearing black like a Russian monk. She is holding a baby.

"I think you should hold her," she tells Natasha.

"No." Natasha's legs are crossed— she is sitting like a supplicant.

"Coward," the woman says, and the words settle like leaves.

"Maybe I am," replies Natasha, who keeps very still. The baby's name is Rose, and that name fills up the space like something solid, though it has not been said out loud.

[krasnaya_vdova]

Ava is quiet for a moment, processing that fact. Sometimes it feels like they're a scrambled puzzle, or a mirror reflection-- things in common but in all the wrong ways. "What was he like? Your Alexei," she asks after a moment, her heart twisting in her chest.

He died, she almost wants to say, to admit to someone how much she's lost, watching as the memory starts to fade out. He died because when he asked, she told him not to leave. Because she took him to Odessa, because he was Natasha's little brother, and some days it feels like he died because she couldn't help but love him. But she doesn't know how to talk about those things. Any more than she knows how to say that his name was Alexei Romanov, and what that meant.

The memory that comes instead isn't Ava's, and that's a small solace. It gives her time to breathe. It's Natasha's, she realizes. A piece of something that doesn't fit into the narrative she already knows, and it seems more distant than it was when they were linked. This is watching, not feeling her feelings and breathing her breath, memories that are more than memory.

The woman calls Natasha a coward, with a baby in her hands, and Ava can't help but watch. It seems like a small moment, but there's something about it that feels more tense than comfortable.

[buildsomething]

He should be used to it by now, considering. Standing back and watching himself. This is different, though, and Tony can tell immediately. It's not some other version, not an alternate, that's him grinning easily with Natasha without a visible care in the world. It's him down to his bones and he doesn't remember this at all. And there's only one person he can think of who's known him longer than he's ever known her.

"She brought you right to me," he finds himself murmuring in a tone that's not quite wondering. It takes a moment for him to break attention from the Tony and Natasha standing there to the pale younger woman. And then he turns and she's there too, standing in the peanut gallery just like he is.

"Ava?"

[krasnaya_vdova]

"Hey," she says with a wry curl of her lips. She might not be Natasha, but she's not exactly a fan of these sort of displays. Although so far this one is relatively harmless. He already knows about the OPUS program, her connection to Nat, so these are just details, like seeing the movie instead of reading something in a history book.

"Enjoying the show?" It's light, teasing because it's easier than her discomfort.


In the memory, Tony points out that guns always follow Natasha, so no, he's not surprised. "The guns I can handle," Natasha says grimly. "It's the rest of it that's getting to me."

"You mean the rest of them?" Tony asks, his gaze shifting from Natasha to Alexei and Ava, and she promptly starts to blush.

Natasha nods. "Ava, Alex, this is Tony Stark."

"Look. It's a small human. Hello, small human." Tony waves at her, eyes twinkling, and Ava freezes, star-struck.

"Hello, Mister-- Iron-- Stark," she manages, half-choking on the words, reaching up to shyly fidget with the bright copper strands of her hair in an attempt to hide her awkwardness.


In the dreamscape she winces. "Please never bring up that happened." Although Ava thinks the odds on that might be pretty low.

[buildsomething]

"What, I'm supposed to just ignore the fact that the very sight of me makes you tongue-tied?" It's a tease of his own in return, but there's something a bit more genuine under it.

He knows that Ava's been through some shit, and that even the scene in front of them isn't as innocuous as it seems. But in that particular moment, everything is so easy. The camaraderie between himself and Natasha, two teenagers who clearly have no idea what to make of the fact that they're standing in front of someone they've only ever seen on the news. For this little bit, everything is simple. It's kind of nice.

"I think I'm almost hurt that you're clearly not as impressed with me anymore," he adds, flashing a grin in her direction.

[krasnaya_vdova]

"That'd be nice. I actually managed to forget that I called you Iron Stark," she says with a touch of a laugh, shaking her head. Compared to the memories that have been thrown around before this? This is almost warm, comforting. It had been nerve-wracking at the time, given her fears associated with SHIELD. But now?

"Who said I'm not impressed? You're just less intimidating," Ava said with a sly smile.


"So what's going on?" Tony gestures grandly, leading the little group into the Triskelion, Natasha walking at his side as the teens trail behind.

"You have no idea," Natasha says with a sigh.

"Let's see, you show up at SHIELD nerve central with two small humans in tow, and one of them just so happens to be a redheaded Russian girl. Why is that story familiar? Why?"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Are you quite finished?"

"Oh, I think I'm just getting started." Tony says, eyes glimmering.

And the odd part is how the memory splits. Ava gets escorted to the infirmary, where the boy stays a constant fixture at her side as SHIELD medtechs proceed to poke and prod and examine her to within an inch of her life as Ava seems about read to punch someone. Apparently she'd fainted, if Tony picks up on the chatter. Natasha and Tony, meanwhile, hit up the brass for unfettered access to the SHIELD mainframe, there's a phone call to Maria Hill, since Fury was apparently too busy for Russian Assassins, which left them talking to Pierce. "You're really going to say no to half the Avengers?" Natasha asked.

"The cute half," Tony added, leaning over her shoulder with one of those Tony Stark smiles. For some reason no one seems to quite trust Tony. But, a few minutes later they were in, collecting the two teens from the infirmary as Ava's memories merge back together. And then they're alone in a room of server bays and those glowing display walls.


Ava had told Tony about how she had Natasha's memories, but even for her it's a little strange, seeing it so viscerally. Someone else's movie in her head, she'd called it once. "I'd only seen you on C-SPAN, heard about you in the lessons on science and tech and just about everything else. And then you were just-- you know. It was a bit much, having just been shot at about half an hour ago." She's smiling, though.

"I'm glad I met you. For what it's worth. Even if everything else-- sucked."

[buildsomething]

"Of course you're glad you met me, everyone should be." It's rote, almost autopilot as Tony's brain tries to catch up with everything he's seeing. His own mind tends to operate on more than one level pretty regularly, sure, but even he's not quite at the level of two sets of memories at once. He casts an almost curious look at the girl next to him before he attention turns back to the memory.

Dualities aside, it's incredibly weird to see himself from the outside like this. He's seen himself on countless news broadcasts and youtube videos, but like this, with something he has no actual memory of, it's like watching a someone imitate him. And from here he can see the suspicious looks that other Tony is getting, the eyeballs from SHIELD. He has to wonder if that's him or the eventual moles in the system coming out.

"Glad I could help, though." That's a bit more quiet, absent-mindedly genuine.

Steve (MCU)

[krasnaya_vdova]

"Steve," she says softly, looking at the blonde that appears in her dreams. Ava's dressed in black in this strange piece of dreamspace, but her bright red hair is visible in the darkness. He gets a smile, a shrug of her shoulders. At the least she doesn't have too many secrets from him. He knows most of the pieces of her story. But when the memory slips into focus, her face falls. Because few secrets didn't mean none.

She's young here; probably about thirteen, shabby clothes, but they do seem to actually fit her. Red hair and wild eyes, a shadow creeping through a hallway, silent, the tramp of heavy-boots that echoes, a murmur of voices calling orders. They're close, but she presses out of sight and a few moments later they pass her by. The brief flash shows SHIELD uniforms as she manages to skirt past a camera. She seems to be in some sort of safehouse or underground base.

"You shouldn't see this," she says softly, looking at him. She can't help feeling a little ill at the thought.

[stevegrogers]

"Ava," Steve responded, eyes gazing around to try and determine where they were and what kind of plans they needed to make. There always needed to be plans and means of escape lately, never really allowing for many moments of rest or peace. But what did Steve know of quiet or Ava either for that matter from what she told him so far of her life. Shield had more corruption than even he anticipated originally.

Opening his mouth, he shut it quickly when he saw another Ava moving in front of them. A memory then? A wisp of a dream or more likely a nightmare from the shield logo on the ones marching forward. A sense of dread filled him, a tightly coiled panic deep in his gut but it didn't feel like his own.

"What is this? What's going on?"

[krasnaya_vdova]

"A memory," she says softly, her voice hushed, like part of her is worried about attracting the attention of the men in the hallways despite herself.

"I told you after Natasha rescued me that SHIELD had me captive. This was-- I tried to escape," she explains. This isn't the bad part, not even close. She's hardly more than a child here, but you can see the fear and the teeth-clenched determination in her eyes. "I wasn't hiding it from you. But it's not my trauma, it didn't seem right to tell," she says softly. "But I haven't told him, either," she admits, watching her younger self. "Not this part."

There's something in the way she looks at Steve, like she's worried, not sure if he'll understand. The young teen girl moves through the hallways, soundless, and Steve can probably tell that she's good at this, even at this age. But then it goes bad. There are two men in the hallway, and she turns, tries to run, and she's agile and fast, but there's nowhere for her to go. They grab her and she kicks one of them in the face as the other picks her up off her feet.

He just glares at her, then shakes his head, putting a hand to his split let. "Take her. He said to bring her in. You think you can handle her?" And then Ava's being bodily dragged through hallways, until they reach a heavy metal door that even now, in the dreamscape, it makes her shudder, makes her tense. There's a flicker in the memory, as if some subconscious desire to not see what follows.

Natasha (MCU)

[krasnaya_vdova]

Ava sees Natasha, and it makes her heart sink a little because her memories have so many landmines when it comes to the other woman. These dreamscapes, or whatever they are; tours down memory lane with people she wants so much to keep insulated from her past getting guided tours of pieces of her life. "Natasha," she says softly. Even in this place she's still in her pajamas, but that's hardly what she's worried about.

When the memory comes into focus, it starts with Ava and Natasha standing in a room in the SHIELD Triskelion. Ava looks upset, a little younger here; maybe seventeen. She's pulling some sort of fried electronics from her face, throwing them to the ground as she heads to the door. It's locked, SHIELD agents in the hall and she yells something, though it comes out as whispers. The words don't come in clear until Natasha crosses the distance, awkwardly putting a hand on the girl's shoulder like handling an angry teenager is not quite part of her skillset. "Ava... I know this is hard."

"Oh please," she snaps, turning to face the woman with bright red hair the same color as her own. "Don't. Just don't. Don't act like you want to be my friend. I'm done. You're not my sestra. I don't have a sister and I don't even know what became of my parents." There's a sort of frustration under the anger, that feeling of being trapped, as if the room they're in makes her choke. In the background there's a brief flicker of Tony, apparently deciding that leaving the two alone was the best play here, he says something, but it's lost in the shadows.

"I know how it feels to lose your parents," Natasha says, trying another tactic. "If you just let me--" But Ava cuts her off.

"No. I'm not falling for that again. I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore." She's angry. A sort of faith and innocence to the intensity of it. As if it matters.

Watching it as it transpires, there's a tension to Ava, because she knows how this argument ends. Her blue eyes are fixed on Natasha. "Sorry," she says quietly. Though whether she's apologizing for the argument, or for not saying something before is hard to tell.

Continued

[krasnaya_vdova]

There's a long pause, and there's something there in the expression on Natasha's face. Like she thinks that Ava should be afraid, that she can't see the sentiment as anything other than optimism, stubbornly naive. But she presses anyway, trying again.

"Look, Ava. It might not seem like it, but I'm here to help. I'm trying to keep you from getting your brain fried by Ivan for the second time. I was there, remember?" She's trying to reach back to some common history, that night when Natasha pulled Ava out of burning wreckage, shielded her with her own body, but Ava's jaw just tightens. Wrong move.

"You were there?" She scoffs, almost derisive, bitter. "You were never there when it mattered. You don't get to do this- to pop back into my life when you feel like it, to play the hero again. I've been doing fine on my own, just the way you left me." There's an under-current here, of promises broken, of a girl that had expected more from Natasha, a girl that wanted more.

"Fine?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, looking at the redhead girl in all her anger. "You're a runaway. You live in a basement of a former YMCA and you mostly eat at shelters and soup kitchens. You're basically a homeless person."

Her cheeks flush so they almost match her hair, and that's anger because oh, that truth cuts. "At least I'm not skulking around fencing tournaments with my fake face," she says belligerently as she gets her bearings. But as she does, it kindles into anger, and her brown eyes burn. "Glad to know you've been watching, sestra." The word is all venom. "Glad to know that you care." She yanks an old, roughed-up iPod out of her pocket and throws it at her. It hits the ground just in front of Natasha and skitters across the floor in the quiet that comes with the violence of the gesture.

"You can keep it. In fact, you can keep all of your stupid birthday presents with no name and no card. I never wanted them. All I ever wanted was one familiar face in an entire country of strangers. But I guess that was too much for you." Her fury quiets a little, and Natasha takes a breath. She completely fails to address Ava's anger, the hurt and the anger that have heated into this bubbling bitterness and vitriol. It's because she can't- because it's all true.

"Just hear me out. I have an idea. And I wont let Ivan touch you. I give you my word." It's an almost easy suggestion, but Natasha hits all the wrong words, offers the wrong things.

"Your word? Where was your word for the last eight years? Where were any of you? All SHIELD has ever done was lock me up alone and tell me it was for my own good, which I can tell you was no good at all." There's venom there, words not said, that take the vague shape of words like you left me, you hurt me, you left me alone for eight years and now you pretend nothing's wrong.

Natasha on the other hand, barely seems to be able to help her frustration. "Yes, I'm sorry you had people feeding you and trying to keep you alive."

"Keeping me alive? Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't." There's a darkness there, in the words, where Ava's anger bares a little bit too much of herself, skirts the edges of a sort of hopelessness she'd never admit to outloud. It seems to spark something in Natasha, though. A sort of genuine emotion, anger that overlays the earlier agitation.

"Don't say that. You have no idea what you're talking about. Your life wouldn't have been better; it would just have been shorter--" Ava turns like she's about to walk away, like she just can't take any more of this. Natasha is grasping for something, like when it comes to Ava she just doesn't know the right words and she hates that not-knowing.

And then: "Was it the radiator or the headboard?" The question low, soft, breathed like a secret never to be shared. Ava stops, stills, brown eyes wide as her shoulders tense. "When you cried or said you were hungry, if you refused to follow the rules or if you didn't thank them enough for choosing you. Where did the handcuffs go?"

There's a long moment, the silence stretching like it might snap, like Ava might just keep walking, like this is something she's unable to face, let alone talk about. But then she turns, her expression one of uncertainty, but her lips are pressed thin and fierce. "The sink. A pipe under the sink." Natasha looks at her like she understands: better acoustics. So the other girls could hear her scream.

"I don't-- Before SHIELD I don't remember much, but I remember that. I think I got used to what they did. I think we all did. But what he said-- I never got used to that." Natasha's eyes are intense on Ava, but she just shrugs. Like she can't say anymore, like this is as much connection as she can allow herself to make. Two red-haired Red Room girls. And if Natasha can make the right connections, there's something sinister in that admission that she can't remember.

Steve (616)

[krasnaya_vdova]

As much as Ava is getting a little bit sick of this whole thing, giving guided tours of pieces of her memories, it's worse this time. Worse when she sees where she is, and knows just what's about to happen. What someone could see. She almost hopes that it's Loki just because he's already seen her like this. But she's not that lucky, of course. There's a lot of shame and self-hate tangled up in her powers, things she doesn't usually talk about.


In the memory, it's Ava and two other SHIELD trainees, in those recognizable black bodysuits as they move through a very crowded subway station. Someone familiar with New York City might be able to recognize it as Herald Square. Ava's on point; and they're chasing after a dark figure that moves a little strangely as he cuts through the crowd. Ava's telling someone over the comms to cut him off before he makes it down to the platforms.

She's trying to be good, to work as a team, so she stays with the others, gives directions, but resists the urge to just do things herself. But there's that itch between her shoulders, that desire to push. She's trying here, even if it frustrates her, especially when the person she'd been talking to doesn't make it in time. And it's down on the platforms where things go bad. With the crowds, the other agents can't seem to be able to keep him from getting close to the edge.

It seems to happen in slow-motion, almost. The oncoming train, the way their target elbows someone off the edge of the platform in front of the oncoming train, and in the commotion three people fall. Ava's already moving, not playing nice, but fast, fluid and dangerous, amid a shout at the team to not lose him. One of those swords striking the wall, and the surge of electricity plunges everything into darkness. It's impossible to track her except by the blue glow of her eyes until she's silhouetted in front of the headlights as she throws herself in front of a train in a rather stunning display of utter recklessness and disregard for her own life.

I AM SORRY I AM THE WORST. I thought I responded to this!!

[livingsymbol]

The memories are disturbing. Steve is steadfastly trying to avoid exposing his own and almost by some practical joke has stumbled into others' minds, making him feel like he's stepping into a secret room uninvited. The situation is more intense because it feels real, a world built around them, and it's almost familiar, making a chill run up Steve's spine. He sees SHIELD agents, recognizes them easily, and sees the tell-tale stiffness of trainees in the ones that are the focus of the memory. Ava is one of them.

Steve feels himself follow the scene as it plays out, like he's the camera watching the team in action. He sees the more antsy two hurry to follow their directives, fumbling in their motions while Ava tries to help coordinate them. The struggles of a new group play out for him in the station and he watches, mesmerized by it all. He sees the train; the shove; the falling civilians.

He tries to yell and leap forward, but it's a memory. So Steve watches as Ava moves, diving off the platform and into the path of the oncoming metal behemoth as the lights go out. He stands at the edge of the crowd, a piece of the scenery watching the redhead disappear in a wash of light.

"Ava?" His voice sounds out of place in that memory. A hollow sound that is too clear. Too invasive. "What happened?"

She had to have made it. Something happened. Steve waits, breathing muted as he listens for any sort of response from her.

you're great!! IT'S FINE :D

[krasnaya_vdova]

She walks over to stand next to him, a little nervous, her hands fidgety as she tries to hold herself still, watching as she moves in the memory. "Steve," she says quietly, trying to keep everything even as it plays out, even if she's admittedly tense. Ava's all fluid and grace, deadly, even as she goes over the edge of the platform, and she knows just where she got that from. That instinct to protect other people with such a clear and maybe worrying degree of disregard for her own safety.

"Watch," she says softly, even if part of her doesn't want him to see this. The way that her eyes spark, electric blue, first her irises, then spilling out, the way there's that blue glow over the center of her chest, visible through the fabric of her uniform. The way her skin ripples with currents of energy, shifting to sea blue, making the red of her hair even more stark.

There's energy, blue light, electric that courses along the surface of the train, pulses out, courses along the rains. There's the sound of metal on metal, the groan of it warping, gold sparks that shoot in the dark. One hand up, the other still gripping her swords. She doesn't flinch. The train stops short with a shudder of metal. Once everything stills, once her eyes are the only part of her that glows, she climbs back up to the platform and helps the people she saved up onto their feet, directing them in the direction of the exit.

"Tell me you got him," she calls over her communicator, heaving a sigh of what seems like it should be relief, though she still seems tense. She then moves toward the subway car, wrangling the doors open, but most of her attention is on making sure no one gets hurt as people get off. No rushing, no one knocked down, and it only takes a little bit of yelling over the din.

She doesn't look at Steve, just looks at the Ava that moves in the memory, the people. "I miscalculated a bit, though. Didn't just stop that train." She admits softly, holding herself like she's waiting for something. And she is- judgement, revulsion, that way people look at her once they realize what she is.

There's an announcement that comes over the speakers about suspended train service, and once the platform's cleared Ava just sighs and waits for the cleanup.

[anotheroldsoldier]

They don't have the Triskelion, but they do have the Helicarrier, and the surroundings are similar. Grey walls, clean lines, lots of tech. A cell, maybe? It only takes a couple seconds to place that this is yet another shared... dream, or something. Whatever is going on this week. He hates it, can't help but feel like he's intruding on someone else's head no matter if it's his dream or another's. None of this should be happening.

He recognizes Ava, but he doesn't recognize the boy. Not a face he can begin to place from his own world's SHIELD database. Someone she knows, though, clearly. He watches them take out the guards, SHIELD agents, making their way to an elevator.

A passive observer, he just watches, because it's impossible not to. "SHIELD, huh?"

[krasnaya_vdova]

At the question she nods, and there's something vulnerable about how she holds herself as the memory plays out, like if she could she'd gather every piece of this in her hands and hold it to her chest. She's in pajama pants and an over-sized tee-shirt and she looks at him, wide-eyed for a moment before she smiles, a little lop-sided, trying to make this better.

Alexei, alive and smiling, warm brown eyes. Two agents on the floor as they move down to the next floor. "Yeah. They found out about the connection I had with Nat. They were going to lock me up again, and I was.. worried about what they'd do to me." Alexei and Ava move together in a way that isn't normal. The boy is good too; not as graceful, rougher, a little reckless, but they move together in a way that never made any sense.

She's not the only one with Red Room training. Ava might have a particular skill for disengaging a handgun with a sharp kick to the wrist, but Alexei's good too. They whisper in Russian, and there's a lightness to Ava despite the situation. Bucky might also note that for all that she has Nat's skills, there's something of herself in them -- in that Natasha probably wouldn't have given up on stealth about thirty seconds in and opted to punch her way through every SHIELD agent in their way.

"Turns out SHIELD were HYDRA, so maybe it was a good thing."