He brought up her hands to press his lips against her knuckles. And he stayed that way, drinking in the scent, the taste, of her skin. Reveling in both her strength and her innocence. In her determination, in her... love.
The realization hit him, hard. Almost like a physical blow in the solar plexus, and his eyes and mouth opened, his gaze fixed on her. The glow of her eyes, the cadence, certainty of her voice. The dedication. Yes. This was for him, and him alone - not for the Red Room, not fer the Party, not for the people. Not for the Comrade out there. Only for him. And something inside of him melted, something that he'd held onto since the first time he'd stepped inside her window, something that shouldn't have been possible, that he didn't know (and yet he also knew it well, it fit like it belonged, inside).
"Natalia... people are never meant to actually be perfect. We can, and we do, and we will strive for perfection. But it is... impossible. Unachievable. You are brilliant, and beautiful, and you have so, so much room to grow. You don't have to lose your ... your self trying to fulfill an impossible promise."
His thumb rubbed over her folded fingers. "Live. It's much harder than being flawless. But, please. Live. As yourself."
She already was the brightest star. His brightest, even through all that was starting to leak inside his head - not as memories, but impressions. Feelings. Moments. Things he wanted to give her and knew he couldn't, probably shouldn't - though that part mattered less and less.
"Soar for me, then. Don't let anyone shoot you down. And I'll be proud of you."
The Winter Solder, the perfect weapon of the Project X, was swept in a flood of words, in a torrent of feeling - the things he was supposed to have too little of, and not miss them. But that was all right. So long as he was holding on to her small, strong hands.
no subject
The realization hit him, hard. Almost like a physical blow in the solar plexus, and his eyes and mouth opened, his gaze fixed on her. The glow of her eyes, the cadence, certainty of her voice. The dedication. Yes. This was for him, and him alone - not for the Red Room, not fer the Party, not for the people. Not for the Comrade out there. Only for him. And something inside of him melted, something that he'd held onto since the first time he'd stepped inside her window, something that shouldn't have been possible, that he didn't know (and yet he also knew it well, it fit like it belonged, inside).
"Natalia... people are never meant to actually be perfect. We can, and we do, and we will strive for perfection. But it is... impossible. Unachievable. You are brilliant, and beautiful, and you have so, so much room to grow. You don't have to lose your ... your self trying to fulfill an impossible promise."
His thumb rubbed over her folded fingers. "Live. It's much harder than being flawless. But, please. Live. As yourself."
She already was the brightest star. His brightest, even through all that was starting to leak inside his head - not as memories, but impressions. Feelings. Moments. Things he wanted to give her and knew he couldn't, probably shouldn't - though that part mattered less and less.
"Soar for me, then. Don't let anyone shoot you down. And I'll be proud of you."
The Winter Solder, the perfect weapon of the Project X, was swept in a flood of words, in a torrent of feeling - the things he was supposed to have too little of, and not miss them. But that was all right. So long as he was holding on to her small, strong hands.