Chapter Text
Nathaniel always liked the rain; it soothed him, brought him peace, the sounds of water decorating the streets and buildings with gentle drip drips and pitter patters. When it rained, he could sleep peacefully at night without a care in the world or go for a walk when he needed to clear his head.
Thunderstorms were a different story entirely. On good days, he could sit through a thunderstorm without really thinking too much into it. He could ignore the rumbles and the flashing lights, busying himself with another activity to take his mind off of it. Sometimes it was really easy because Claire was usually around, using her bright smile and terrible jokes to distract him.
On bad days, crashes of thunder were explosions and rumbles were machines. The flashes of light cast shadows on the walls of people he used to know, people he remembered and people he had killed. Not even a good book could distract him on bad days; he’d spend those days alone, hands covering his ears and waiting for it to end while he silently reminded himself where he was, who he was.
Today was a bad day.
“Nathaniel Romanov. New York City. 2016. Not Red Room. I am safe.” He murmured, hands over his ears. “Nathaniel Romanov. New York City. 2016. Not Red–”
A crack of thunder splits across the sky, he jumps out of his skin, loses his train of thought. The machines comes to life; shadows appear on the walls, voices mock him, call him weak. He’s slipping, he needs reconditioning.
No…No…No! He didn’t want to go back under; he didn’t want to go back.
He was safe…He was home…He was…He was…
Who was he?
Oh God, where was he?
Was this Red Room? No, it didn’t look the same. Was he on a mission? Who was the target? Was this their house? Did he need a weapon?
An explosion in the distance, he holds his hands tighter over his ears; a door handle turns and light fills the dark room, nearly blinding him and causing him to flinch back from the figure in the doorway.
Red Room; he was being reconditioned. They were coming to take him away; he could hear the machines and see the doctors on the wall.
The lights come on, he closes his eyes tightly. He doesn’t want to go back; there’s somewhere he needs to be, someone he needs to find, but he can’t remember anything, the machines are just too loud.
“Nat?”
Nat?
“Nat, can you hear me?”
He knows this voice; he opens his eyes.
His eyes find the source of the voice; a woman. A kind face, blue eyes, young. She’s not one of the normal doctors; is she new? She looks too kind to be here in this terrible place.
“Don’t go where I can’t follow, Nat.”
Nat….Nat…Nathaniel.
That was his name, wasn’t it?
Nathaniel Romanov.
He lowers his hands, staring at this woman with wide eyes, knowing he looked more like a frightened animal than a human being judging by the sad look on her face.
“It’s just a storm, Nat. We’re in New York.”
New York City.
“It’s 2016.”
2016.
“We aren’t in Red Room.”
Not Red Room.
“You’re safe.”
Safe.
The woman came closer to him and this time, he didn’t flinch. She smiled at him, soft, soothing, but all he could do was stare.
He knew her…Didn’t he?
He must have known her because when she took his hands, the machines were just thunder and the shadows were just shadows. There was only rain and blue eyes.
“Let’s go to bed, huh? Silly man, sitting in the dark. I was only at the store for ten minutes.”
She was soaked; had she been outside? In this weather? What a stupid, irresponsible thing to do. She could catch a cold or ruin her clothes. What had she been thinking?
“Don’t look at me like that. With a storm like this, we were going to need some provisions. I got that wine you like and everything. I have a feeling we’ll be holed up for a few days. Streets are flooded.”
She led him out of the living room and into another; one with an unmade bed, but an otherwise clean room. It looked lived in, like a home, and she led him to the bed, sitting him down on the edge.
“I will be right back, okay? Stay here. Wait for me.”
Wait for her…He’d always wait for her.
He must know her if he was so willing to listen to her, to trust her, to wait.
She left him in the bedroom, disappearing into what he remembered to be the bathroom. She wasn’t gone for long though and he hadn’t drifted in that short amount of time.
It was still her, but she was in different clothes now. Wet; she’d been all wet, so she’d gone to change. That made sense.
She came back to him, walking until she was standing in front of him and stopping. She studied him, searching his eyes before she seemed satisfied. He knew those eyes, that smile, that purple t-shirt and the shorts with the arrows on them.
He knew that voice; soft, soothing when he was afraid and full of sarcasm when he wasn’t. He remembered her laugh; it was loud. She put everything she had into that laugh of her.
Claire.
She smiled, bright, but her eyes showed she was relieved. She must have noticed the recognition in his eyes.
“There you are. I missed you.”
She bent at the waist, pressing a kiss to his forehead, soft and lingering. He closed his eyes, at peace until she pulled away.
“Let’s go to bed.”
She urged him back until he was laying down and she was curled up next to him, laying her head on his chest. They laid there for a long time, breathing steadily, while his hand slowly moved in a familiar path up her arm and down her shoulder.
Outside, the thunder continued to crack across the sky and the lightning flashed.
Nathaniel Romanov.
New York City.
2016.
Not Red Room.
“Claire…” He croaked out at last, wanting to apologize for everything.
For letting her see him like this, for letting him be seen so weak. She shouldn’t have to put up with this every time it stormed.
Why would she do this?
“You don’t have to say anything.”
It was said with so much warmth, so much…so much love.
Oh.
He fell silent, letting his apology die in his throat. She was so good to him; she always knew how to chase away the demons.
I am safe.
I am home.