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cntrpt · 1 year

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[Part four of If we got each other, and that's all we have]

Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff; Post-Endgame/Post-Hawkeye Fix-It Fic;

[Ch. 1] • [Ch. 2] • [Chapter 3 | Words: 7693]

It was dark.

No noise, no sound.

Nothing.

There was a numb stillness all around her.

She felt cold.

Memories had started to come over her all at once, flooding her, and as she had helplessly watched her own past unravelling before her very eyes, she had found herself drowning in it.

All the missing pieces where suddenly within her reach, but they were all over the place, and kept mixing up with forged images, self-induced fantasies, dreams and nightmares, and it was all too much, she couldn't, she couldn't—

But then, all the turmoil had shut down, and there was black and silence all around her, a soothing sense of terrifying nothingness.

But now she remembered.

She remembered it all.

She was left with nothing but time to put all those puzzle pieces back together again, as she had done many, many times already.

Each time was different.

This time, she just needed a little longer.

But it was fine.

She had already done that, she would do it again.

She would be fine again.

Just keep breathing.

But there was also something else there with her, in the nothingness.

It was a strange feeling.

She was — holding it?

Something tangible.

That was new.

But it didn't feel like a threat. It actually felt...safe.

It was soft, and welcoming.

She tried holding onto it, and a faint warmth started creeping into her, quietly spreading, before fading away just as it had appeared.

Yelena immediately found herself missing it, so she tried reaching for that same feeling again, this time with no intention of letting go.

ты в порядке. You're okay.

She just had to focus a little more. Her surroundings were already becoming brighter, discernible. She could feel her mind clearing, starting to put one though after the other.

"дыши." Breathe. Yes, she needed to breathe.

A sudden dizziness came upon her as she realized that now she was able to also feel things around her, light pressures on her skin, wisps of hair fluttering around and against her face.

"Елена?" Yelena.

Wait.

With unnatural effort, she blinked away the remnants of the haze that had enveloped her, letting the pale moonlight seep through.

She weakly turned her head from side to side, taking in the outlines of what was around her from her sitting position, focusing on every shape and their arrangement in the room.

Her gaze eventually fell on the person facing her, and she stilled.

Natasha. Right.

She felt all the pieces fall into the right places, retracing neatly every step that had led her, them, to this very moment, while the images from her flashbacks were now quietly relegated into the back of her mind.

She felt present.

But when she was able to fully take in Natasha's form, she couldn't suppress a new kind of sinking feeling forming into her stomach.

It was not as blatant and suffocating as it had been, but it was there, uncomfortably nagging at her from the inside.

The redhead had shifted on the bed from her previous position, and was now sitting cross-legged right in front of her.

Her controlled demeanor displayed a calmness that Yelena found to be oddly soothing, something she could safely rely on, but at the same time she was also able to read the trepidation written all over her features and the worry set deep into the other's searching gaze.

She felt the strong desire to make that concern disappear, to reassure her that she was fine, and that in a few minutes she would be back to be okay, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth and her body wouldn't relax.

She had seen, she knew that it was her. With each passing moment everything around her was becoming a little more real, but so did the sting of guilt building up in the pit of her stomach, and there was still something, something refraining her, that—

"ты со мной?" Are you with me?

The sudden question snapped her back to attention, leaving her staring blankly at Natasha.

She blinked a few times as the words registered.

Her eyes wandered briefly around the room before locking with the ones staring right back at her.

Yes.

She found herself still unable to get the words out, so she just nodded slowly, with more uncertainty than she had hoped for.

Even so, she clearly saw relief flashing across the other's face and features, feeling some of the tension in her body melt away.

She lowered her gaze, and realized that she was still holding Natasha's hand, only now her grip had turned almost painful as she kept clinging to it with all her might — like it was her only lifeline.

She let out a soft breath and loosened her hold a little, their joined hands — hers still safely secured between both of Natasha's — now resting almost placidly on top of her bent up knees.

She felt a thumb starting to lightly rub the back of her hand, stroking it gently, and she focused on that feeling while her mind wandered.

Thinking back to what had happened in the past minutes, something caught her attention.

She quickly cast an inquisitive glance at Natasha, before getting back to stare at the circular, soothing motion on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Russian?"

The redhead's movements stopped for just a moment, as she quizzically looked at Yelena, before she grasped the meaning behind the curt question.

"Ah..."

She shrugged slightly, her gaze dropping to their hands too — almost sheepishly, as Yelena curiously noticed — while she suddenly seemed completely absorbed in what she was doing.

"I— I just thought it would have helped bringing you back to me faster, I guess."

Back to her.

Yelena smiled feebly.

She brought up her other hand, letting go of the bedsheets she was still clutching at her side, and placed it on top of her sister's, giving a light squeeze.

"Thank you."

Natasha exhaled and nodded, still without looking up. She readjusted her hold on Yelena's hand, so that her fingers interlaced with those of the other one covering hers, then cleared her voice.

"So, what...what happened?"

Yelena swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath, the question not coming unanticipated.

She knew that she needed to at least try and explain herself.

"I remembered."

Natasha's eyes found hers again, a look of surprise now settled into them.

"Oh."

Yelena shifted uncomfortably under her piercing gaze.

She could see that it was only searching for something that could tell the other if talking about this was okay, and if she was okay, but it was making her feel...exposed. Extremely self-conscious and with nowhere to hide.

She wasn't used to it.

"The memories, they..."

She draw in a shaky breath and tried pushing through it.

The worry filling Natasha's eyes, the fear she had seen crossing her features just moments before, the slight insecurity now present in her every movement, it was all her doing.

She owed her this.

"It was...too much all at once, I suppose. I just— I couldn't take it. I shut down. Sorry."

Natasha shook her head, both of her thumbs now stroking the blonde's fingers and rubbing circles over the back of her hand.

"Don't be, it's alright. I'm— I'm not sure there's a proper way to handle this. Probably I would have done the same."

Yelena forcefully pushed away any sense of comfort the words were trying to offer her.

She gritted her teeth, suddenly feeling a wave of irritation at herself running through her body. It was raising and bubbling, and she couldn't help but let it spill over in her next words.

"It's just...usually it happens faster, or at least I snap back without blacking out, or whatever that was."

Her shoulders sagged in defeat and she shook her head, tiredly.

"I thought, with time, it would get better. Not...not this."

She closed her eyes trying to calm down and regain her composure, focusing only on taking long, slow breaths, and nothing else.

Until she heard Natasha speaking up again.

"Does this...happen often?"

Great.

Sighing, she looked up at her, already on the defensive, reading herself to be met by meditating green eyes filled with disbelief, pity, shock maybe, or even hurt in discovering all this just now.

But she found none of that.

No matter how hard she searched for more, all she could detect was the slightest surprise, along with genuine curiosity, and that same hint of concern that had yet to leave the other's gaze, and which had now subtly deepened.

She released a shaky breath, trying to relax.

This was Natasha. It was okay.

"No...no, not exactly. Some times more than others. But it's still better than it used to, so..."

Natasha remained quiet for a while, musing, her gaze lost.

Yelena looked up at her, seeing her swallowing, before she finally spoke up.

"You mean when you got back? After...after the blip?"

The blonde blinked, not expecting the question.

"I mean— yeah, that was...it was pretty bad."

She took a deep breath.

This was Natasha.

"But I also meant in the Red Room. You know, with the chemicals running through my body and...and everything."

She tightened her hold a little, not looking at the redhead.

"There wasn't much I could do about it then, it's not like I had a safe way to know what was real and what not."

Natasha's movements faltered, and Yelena immediately knew what was going on in her mind. She quickly went on, trying to keep her from falling back into a guilt spiral.

"So I guess I'm better now, but you— you saw that, you saw what happened. It still sucks, and I— I'm sorry, you—"

She shook her head, not really knowing how to continue.

Shutting her eyes, she let out a resigned sigh.

"I'm sorry."

She heard Natasha shuffling a little closer, her still crossed legs pressing against her own ankles, but she didn't dare look at her.

"Yelena, it's—"

"You keep saying it's okay, but clearly it's not!"

She froze for a moment, her eyes now wide open and taking in the redhead's startled expression, as a twinge of panic made herself wince.

She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but she didn't understand how Natasha could still pretend that everything was fine. How she could still want to stay here.

"I— it just keeps happening. Maybe less frequently, but it's still— I almost shot you!"

Natasha's jaw clenched, but she just kept staring back at her calmly, and she couldn't understand why.

"I almost shot you, and I still didn't— I couldn't recognize you, and it will happen again!"

The reality of her own words truily sunk in just then. She couldn't keep Natasha close, she couldn't ask her that, this.

Natasha shouldn't have wanted it in the first place.

"Yelena—"

The redhead's feeble attempt at drawing her attention was futile.

"I know it will happen again..."

The realization had left her torn.

She didn't want Natasha there, she couldn't pretend that from her. But she was scared of seeing her leaving one day, scared that she might decide to not come back, scared of what would happen to herself.

She was dangerous, and she knew it. A ticking bomb. But the thing was, she didn't want to be alone, not after rediscovering how good having someone actually felt.

Not again.

She locked eyes with the redhead, panic taking over. She didn't know what to do.

"I'm— I am messed up, and I might be broken, but I am not crazy, I swear, I'm not, I'm—"

Natasha shifted on the bed, surging forward and suddenly leaning above Yelena's knees to reach her forehead with hers.

She gently pushed the blonde's head until it bumped against the wall behind her, firmly keeping it in place.

After the initial shock wore off, Yelena let herself slump a bit, relishing the light pressure and focusing on Natasha's eyes, taking in the seriousness they held within.

She was left breathless by the hard, piercing look she was met with, but there was still an attentiveness there — promise of confidence and assurances — that prevented her from shying away.

"You are not crazy, and you are not broken."

The redhead talked like she wanted to engrave the words into her mind, keeping her pinned with her gaze.

"And maybe you're right, it's not fine, but what I meant is that it's okay if, sometimes, something is not."

She was speaking carefully, keeping her tone low and quiet, but to Yelena it was like she was shouting right into her ears.

Her breath hitched, and she draw their intertwined hands into her lap and closer against her stomach, hanging on the redhead's lips.

"There's nothing wrong with that. Not everything needs to be fine for it to work out."

Her voice had reduced to merely a whisper now, and Yelena fought not to let herself be lulled by it and bask in its warmth.

She was about to open her mouth and attempt a weak resistance, but Natasha wasn't done yet.

"So, you might not be fine. Maybe I'm not either. Maybe no one is ever completely fine, and that's okay."

Her fingers brushed the blonde's again, resuming their soothing pattern.

"You'll be okay."

Yelena squeezeed her eyes shut briefly, letting out a shuddering breath, before turning her gaze down toward their hands.

"How...how do you know that? If—"

Natasha pulled away just slightly to try and catch her eyes, giving her a significant look, a knowing smile teasing her lips.

"Because I'm older, so I'm wiser."

Then her gaze sobered and she went on in a softer tone.

"And I need you to trust me on this."

"That's—"

The blonde's eyebrows had furrowed in bewilderment at the first statement, but eventually she let out gentle huff and relaxed against the other's forehead, pushing a little in turn.

"I trust you."

Natasha gave her a small smile and released a breath, relaxing visibly — her chest tightened a little when she realized that her answer hadn't been so obvious to the redhead as it was to herself — before closing her eyes.

This time, Yelena kept looking at her, wanting to take in as much as she could of the rather rarely peaceful image unfolding around her.

They allowed themselves to simply be there for a few moments, just listening as their breathings mingled with the sounds of the night all around, reveling in each other presence.

She felt the redhead shift vaguely against her and saw her eyes slowly fluttering open.

A whisper seeped through the silence, still not quite breaking it.

"And even if you were crazy, why would that matter?"

Yelena was frozen in place when the other's gaze finally met hers. She didn't know what to say.

How do you even respond to that?

Natasha pulled away, lifting her head to bring her lips at the top of the bridge of her nose. After a moment of hesitation, she placed a kiss right between her eyebrows, lingering when Yelena let out a small sigh and momentarily closed her eyes at the contact.

She then withdrew all the way back, bringing their hands up onto the blonde's knees and letting her head rest on top of them.

Yelena kept staring back at her wordlessly, thinking about everything and nothing at all at the same time.

She had always known that Natasha had a soft side, and that she was one of the very few people that got to experience it, but it never failed to surprise her how at ease the other seemed to be in her company.

She was well aware that what they went through, it changed people, it made them lose the ability to trust, to rely on others, wary of contact, cautious, cold, hard.

Alone.

But Natasha was still there with her, touching her with no reluctance nor qualms — or at least, not about Yelena — and she was warm, and open to talk, and had always respected her boundaries and let her take her time and have her space.

Yelena had never thought she would ever let anybody see her own soft side. She hadn't even been sure she still had one, after years of harsh nothing.

She had never imagined she would have let herself be this comfortable around another living human being — living, and breathing, and moving, that could want and pretend things, that could come and go as they pleased, that could leave when things from her own past would eventually come out — but she didn't have to worry about any of that with Natasha.

She knew her. And what she didn't know, she still understood.

It was nice, not having to worry.

A good feeling.

One she didn't want to let go of.

But it had already happened, twice.

And it had left her scared, and cold, and alone again.

Then, recently, she had started to find herself happy more and more often, unconsciously getting used to the feeling, and it was terrifying.

It was terrifying because it could end any moment, and all she could do was wait in fear, spiraling out of control and hopelessly trying to keep herself together, struggling not to lose any piece along the way like she almost did tonight.

She knew eventually it would all end, it was life, and life was ruthless, and merciless, and it leaves you with nothing, one way or another.

And she couldn't escape it.

She couldn't escape.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Yelena blinked, slowly coming back to the present, the fog clearing once again.

Natasha was staring at her in concealed concern, still leaning on her knees with her head propped on their hands, her attempt of a smirk not reaching past the curve of her lips.

She furrowed her brow.

"What?"

The other seemed to untense a little at her response, releasing a breath before shrugging slightly.

"I don't know. It's something weird americans say when asking what you're thinking of. It took me a while to figure that one out. I didn't understand why Clint would want to pay me in the first place."

There was a beat of silence while Yelena took in the new information thrown at her.

"I'm pretty sure pennies are british, Natasha."

The redhead snorted softly, tilting her head to the side and resting her cheek against her knuckles, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I told you it was weird."

Her smile died down a little as she turned her attention back on the blonde.

"So, what's on your mind?"

Yelena leaned her head back against the wall, letting out a resigned breath.

She carefully slid one of her hands out from where it was tucked under the other's chin, bringing it up to push some strands of hair out of Natasha's face and behind her ear, her fingers skimming over the silver earrings.

She then placed her fingertips against the other's forehead, her thumb brushing along the bridge of her nose all the way to the tip.

Her digits started running over every bit of skin she could reach, following her jawline, her chin, up to her ear and over her eyelids, slowly tracing her features.

Finally, she cupped her cheek, her movements coming to a stop.

Natasha simply closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, letting her do what she needed.

Her thumb stroked a little spot there, grazing a wrinkle near the corner of her sister's eye.

It wasn't there the last time she had took the time to look this closely at her.

More than five years ago, apparently.

She took in a shuddering breath, keeping her eyes locked on that little reminder of the passing of time.

"It will happen again. Eventually. You'll die."

And you'll leave me behind.

Natasha stiffened, holding her breath for a moment as she cracked her eyes open.

Yelena quickly went on.

"If I don't die first, of course."

She saw the redhead's jaw clenching, an unreadable expression taking over her eyes.

Yelena could tell she was debating about saying something or not, so she patiently waited for her.

Eventually, she released a soft breath, whispering quietly.

"Yeah. I think about that, too."

Natasha turned her head slightly in the blonde's hand, trying to hide her own distress by placing a kiss on her wrist.

The admission didn't surprise Yelena as much as she felt it should have.

She gently cradled Natasha's head as it leaned heavily into her palm.

"It's just...not fair."

The redhead's lips curled up in a faint smile.

"No, it's not. It has never been."

Yelena knew what she meant. All the time they had lost, all the things that were stolen from them, the experiences they could never get back. "But we're here now. We still made it." Yelena nodded slightly, trying to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat. It felt nice to finally be talking about it, but it didn't make it any less hard. "And I think..." Natasha trailed off, trying to collect her thoughts and choose the right words. "I think it's okay to be scared of that, too." She brought up one of her hands to cover the back of Yelena's, still on her face. "After the blip, I thought I had lost you. That I couldn't protect you for a second time. And for five years, I thought about it every day." The words were coming out strained, but Natasha kept pushing through. Yelena didn't want to make her relive memories that were clearly painful, but she didn't find in herself to stop her. She needed to hear them, she wanted to keep listening, and be part of whatever Natasha was letting her in. "Then came the chance to bring you all back, and finally I could do something. But that meant..." She let out a shuddering breath, shaking her head, while the blonde's chest tightened. "And I couldn't let Clint— I couldn't, I had just gotten him back too, and if that worked, then Laura, the kids, they—" Yelena squeezed the hand that she was still holding, the thumb of her other one brushing away a tear that had escaped Natasha's eye. It had pained her that her sister had considered Barton's life more worthy of saving than her own, and she had felt rage at knowing that she had given up the chance of being there when Yelena would have returned. But she understood now.

And it pained her that she understood that it had really been Natasha's only choice. "I had resigned myself to never see you again. But this time I was okay with that, bucause I knew you would...you would have been okay." Yelena's vision was getting blurry. She wanted to say something, remind her that she hadn't been okay, she had almost killed her best friend and thrown her sacrifice in the air, but the words were stuck in her throat. "So, when I got back, this time we have right now, it felt like a gift. And since I started seeing it that way, the thought of it being too short is a little less scary." She smiled weakly. "It's not always ideal, but it helps." Yelena's brow furrowed as she thought it over. She had never believed that life would bestow any gift, not to her. But she couldn't deny that Natasha's perspective was comforting, and she wanted to believe it, too — believe that it was finally their turn. She thought that, at least, she could pretend for a bit. Her attention was suddenly caught by the seriousness that appeared behind the other's eyes, which kept intently searching her owns, until Natasha averted her gaze and spoke again. "If I'll go because I'll die, that won't be my choice. It will never be my choice to leave you. So, please know, I won't be actually leaving you. I'll still be there, right with you, just...differently. I need you to know that." Natasha never raised her eyes as the words left her, and that's how Yelena knew they were coming from one of the deepest parts of her. Talking sincerely never came easy, especially for them. They were taught it was dangerous to trust anybody with bits of you, so it was better to hide it all under layers and layers and layers, until you almost forgot it existed yourself. Yet, here Natasha was, digging and pushing everything aside, every layer, every excuse, every lie, baring herself right in front of her. "And I don't know if there's something after death, I don't...I don't remember anything from Vormir, I'm not even sure that counts. But if there is, I'll be right there waiting for you, whenever your turn might be. Anywhere, in any form, I don't care. I can assure you this, and I need you to believe it. Please." Natasha raised her eyes to look at her expectantly, hesitation written all over her face, but she was forcing her gaze to remain steady. Yelena pulled her hand away from the other's face and brought it up to her own eyes to hastily try and clear her vision. Then she nodded, her throat tight. Natasha's hands were now both around her other one again, and she felt them squeeze gently as the redhead let out a shaky sigh of relief. They were both quiet for a while, until, to Yelena's surprise, Natasha shifted a little uncomfortably and broke the silence once again, whispering like she was talking to herself.

"And you are not broken, because—"

She visibly swallowed, before settling on continuing.

"Because I'm not. Clint told me that, and he made it pretty clear."

Yelena frowned, looking at her questioningly.

Natasha met her gaze briefly.

"I—"

She cleared her voice, suddenly looking extremely self-conscious.

"Do you mind...do you want to lay down?"

Yelena felt like the other wouldn't be able to keep talking if they remained sitting face to face, so she nodded.

Whatever it was that she wanted to say must've been particularly personal, and the blonde felt a strange mix of eagerness and worry growing within herself.

Natasha seemed to appreciate her understanding, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go. She then pulled back and moved away, shifting on the bed until she was with her back against the wall, right at her side.

Yelena scooted forward and laid herself down, turning on her side so she could still look at Natasha, whose legs were once again stretched out in front of her.

The redhead eyed her appreciatively, before reaching down and starting to run her fingers through her hair, looking away.

Yelena closed her eyes at the feeling, drawing a little nearer and silently waiting for her to say something.

Finally, she heard her taking in a steadying breath.

"The first days after Steve took me back, I felt...constantly dazed, light-headed, not— not really okay. But everything was still blurry and confused, and I was so relieved to see you all again, to have you finally back, that I— I didn't care, I thought it was normal, I wanted to pretend that everything was fine."

Yelena looked up at her.

She was staring straight ahead, her gaze lost but focused.

"Then I started to feel more...more present, and it was okay, that was good, I thought...I thought I was okay."

Her voice wavered toward the end, the hand in Yelena's hair now still.

The blonde noticed that the hand in Natasha's lap had resumed its fidgeting, her fingers scratching and rubbing against each other in nervousness.

She brought up her own hand and placed it on top of them, making the movements coming to a stop.

After only a moment, Natasha took hold of it with both of hers and started to play gently with her fingers.

"But there were still times where I felt...distant, far away. Detached from where I was and what I was doing. I needed things to ground myself, to keep myself in the present, but that was not always...it didn't always work."

Yelena suddenly thought back to a few times when she had found Natasha to be acting a little strange.

The redhead would suddenly appear at her side out of nowhere, or draw closer to take her hand while not even looking in her direction, seemingly focused on something else.

A couple of times, she had even found herself unexpectedly wrapped in the other's arms — which had no apparent reason to be holding her that tightly — all the while not a word had been uttered from the both of them.

She had simply thought that after five years believing she was dead, Natasha sometimes needed to make sure that she was really there.

Maybe she was only partly right.

"And in those moments I felt— I felt wrong. Not necessarily about myself, but about everything else."

The redhead's hold tightened a little.

Yelena realized that she had been holding her breath and forced herself to let it go, trying to keep it under control.

"I was happy to be back, I really— but it all felt wrong. Like I didn't belong there."

After that, she went quiet.

Yelena glanced up at her and saw that her jaw was clenched, her posture grown stiff, while she was still staring into nothingness.

She found enough strength in herself to talk in a whisper.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She already knew why. Of course she did.

But she still wanted to hear it.

Natasha took her time to breathe in and out, shutting her eyes.

"I didn't tell you, because I didn't want to upset you."

Here it was.

Yelena nodded even if she couldn't see her, pondering her words.

"Have you told someone?"

Natasha winced imperceptibly, her breath hitching.

"I...talked to Laura, one night. She had noticed something was off, and that time it was— I got really scared, I—"

Yelena shuffled closer and nudged the side of her leg with her nose and forehead, trying to convey that she wasn't mad.

That she understood.

The redhead seemed to relax a little, opening her eyes and flashing her an apologetic look.

"Then Clint got there too. They made me talk, they asked questions, they kept saying it was okay. And the more I talked, the more I felt...there. Like it was not only in my head anymore."

Yelena was not angry, nor disappointed. She just wished she could have done more.

"I'm glad you did. Talk to someone, I mean. That you have them."

She squeezed her hands briefly.

"And I'm proud of you for reaching out."

Natasha nodded slowly, getting back to tracing shapes and meaningless patterns on her hand and around her fingers.

"Sometimes I still feel like that, you know. Like I don't belong in the moment. But then I think about you, Clint and his family, Steve and the guys, and I...I really don't want to be anywhere else."

Yelena glanced up again and saw that she was now staring at her.

"And what do you do?"

A flicker of guilt flashed across Natasha's face, but this time she held her gaze.

"Usually I try to talk with Clint. It's— it's gotten better since I started doing it."

Yelena thought about it for a moment, and she could feel the redhead's piercing eyes searching her owns in growing distress.

Finally she resolved to hesitantly pose the very question that had been buzzing inside of her since the beginning.

"Will you...will you talk to me, too, next time?"

Natasha released a breath and some of the tension in her body with it, but she looked down at her uncertainly.

"I don't want to make you deal with this, you don't need to. I can—"

"But I want to."

She seemed taken aback by the abrupt interruption.

"I want to know what's going on in your mind, too."

Yelena was staring at her resolutely, hoping the other could see the seriousness and honesty behind her words, and accept them.

Accept her and let her in, too.

Natasha stared at her for a few moments, pondering silently.

"Okay."

The blonde blinked a couple of times in surprise at the quick response, then she broke into a little smile, before Natasha spoke again.

"But you'll have to let me help you through this, too."

The relief on her face rapidly faded away, and she frowned.

Of course that wouldn't have come without a negotiation.

But this, her...it was different.

She couldn't trust herself.

Natasha was still looking at her expectantly, and she couldn't hold her gaze any longer.

She slowly shook her head.

"I don't want to hurt you."

Natasha brought one hand back down to her hair and started combing through it, moving away the blonde locks that had fallen on her face.

"You won't. And we'll figure this out. Together."

Yelena rested her forhead against the side of her thigh and closed her eyes, huffing.

"You know this is not your fault, right?"

She felt her shifting slightly and instantly knew she was about to try and argue back.

"Yelena—"

"It's not. You don't need to make up for anything."

The other stayed quiet for a while, and she wondered if maybe this was the right time she could get it through her head.

But she started to think that it was an impossible task when she heard Natasha taking in a breath to speak again.

She would never stop trying, though.

"It will always be my fault, you cannot change that. But that's not why I want to do this."

Natasha could be very obstinate when she put her mind to something, no news here.

Right now, it was pointless to even try and talk some sense into her, and the blonde was way too exhausted for that.

Yelena shrugged and sighed.

"Yeah, have it your way. Then why are you so stubborn that—"

"Because I love you."

Yelena's eyes snapped open and her breath hitched at the naturalness in the redhead's tone.

It's not like it had been left unsaid between them, but it was still such a relatively new concept — for them both — that the way it had slipped out so easily from Natasha's lips this time had left her lost.

There was no reason for it, nothing special had happened, no tragic event or heartfelt reunion, and it definitely hadn't come out as a joke.

She had said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it had felt...different.

But nice.

Like a dim warmth that softly spread and settled in under the surface, a steady consciousness slowly taking root.

She turned her head further against Natasha's leg to hide her dangerously crumbling expression and shiny eyes, lost for words and her throat tight.

The redhead held her head securely, pulling her closer without ceasing to stroke her hair and toying with the tips, her other hand still firmly grasping Yelena's.

Eventually, the blonde hesitantly let go of her hand in favor of grabbing the hem of Natasha's shirt, lightly tugging her down.

Her sister seemed to understand the message, pulling away a little and starting to reposition herself.

Yelena scooted back to give her more space to lie down, and waited until she was completely settled to shuffle nearer and lean her head against her shoulder.

Natasha shifted to make herself more comfortable, slipping one arm underneath the blonde's body and around her waist to pull her close, so that she was now tucked against her side.

A peaceful quiet filled the room once again as they were both lost in their own thoughts.

Yelena focused on the sensation of Natasha's fingers fiddling with the folds of her shirt, which had slightly wrinkled up from all the moving and turning.

She could hear her soft breaths just above her head, see the ribcage expand with each one of them right under the redhead's other arm, that was placidly resting on her stomach.

She fought the sudden urge to drape her own forearm over her chest to feel its regular raising and falling, opting instead to safely snuck it between their bodies, clasping it against herself.

She found it was easier now, laying here like this, to think back to the events of the night, so she took some time and did just that, the possibility of risking another episode not feeling so scary anymore.

It was then that she realized something.

"I think...I blacked out because I felt safe enough to do so."

And it was true.

She had never allowed herself to shut off everything around her since being freed from the mind control, there was no safe place for her to do it.

She wasn't ready to trust the world, and maybe she would never be.

But she could try and trust Natasha.

The redhead let out a soft hum in acknowledgement, then she reached to take her hand in hers, gently extricating it to bring it up to her lips and press a quick kiss on her fingers, before holding it to her chest.

"I would be lying if I said you didn't scare me...but now I know, and I'm here, we're both here, so that's the only thing I care about."

Yelena felt a twinge of pain at remembering those first months after being blipped back, and she wondered if that was how Natasha had felt for five whole years.

She lightly clutched the fabric under her hand, feeling her sister's steady heartbeat beneath her palm.

Guilt and shame resurfaced once again within her, as she thought about the state she had let herself be found in by the redhead.

"Maybe...maybe I should have said something, I'm sorry. It's just—"

"You don't need to explain anything, it's okay. I mean, I would have preferred to know sooner, but you did what it felt right to you, and that is enough for me."

Yelena frowned, peering up at her and lowering her voice.

"Yeah, but I made you worry."

"Stop that, I can assure you, I've had worse."

Saying this, Natasha tightened her hold around her, and the blonde quietened, knowing precisely what she was talking about.

She finally let go of the redhead's shirt and wrapped her arm securely around her middle, Natasha's now free hand moving up to her shoulder and absently starting to play with her sleeve.

The soft rumbles of the occasional cars passing down the streets had become even more sporadic now, and there was mostly silence around them.

Yelena was almost starting to consider closing her eyes and let herself be lulled by it, before it was suddenly broken by Natasha's soft whisper.

"I was thinking..."

She instantly pushed aside any proposition of sleep, moving her chin above the other's shoulder to give her her undivided attention.

Natasha wasn't looking at her, focused on a spot on the ceiling.

"If we're to do this...this helping-eachother thing, if we are— I mean, it could be a great excuse to find ourselves in the same city, in the same place more...often..."

She trailed off, swallowing and not adding anything else, leaving the next move to Yelena, whose eyebrows had drawn together in confusion.

She wasn't exactly sure about where the redhead was trying to go with this.

"You mean like...spend more time together?"

Natasha huffed and let out a soft chuckle that reverberated under Yelena's body, slowly shaking her head.

"Yeah, I suppose...if you're okay with it, and when you have time of course. I just want—"

She faltered and then abruptly stopped, making the blonde grow curious.

She tilted her head a little to try having a better look at her face, noticing the hint of nervousness that had appeared in her expression as the other shifted her gaze on everything in the room but her.

"You want what?"

Natasha froze and glanced at her briefly, before sighing in defeat and uttering her next words tentatively.

"I would like to spend as much time as I can with you."

Yelena stared at her wordlessly, trying to decipher the seriousness behind her statement and assessing the level of commitment that was being implied.

Maybe taking her silence as reluctancy, Natasha went on to explain further, still averting her gaze, but with a determination that wasn't there before.

"Like we said, we've already lost a lot of time. And I was wrong thinking it would be better to separate you and my Avenger-life. So far, it did nothing in keeping you safer or giving you any sense of normalcy."

She took a deep breath, before turning her head a little to meet the blonde's eyes as best she could.

"I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Yelena swallowed hard, trying to keep in check her own emotions and keep her thoughts rational.

"But...what about the Avengers? And the Bartons, and...?

Natasha eyed her with genuine curiousity.

"What about them?"

Now she was really tempted to think that the redhead was messing with her.

Was it really not obvious?

Was she missing something?

She looked at her skeptically.

"I mean...aren't they your family? Shouldn't you be there for them? Stay with them?"

She saw her expression relaxing a bit as realization settled in behind Natasha's eyes, feeling her whole body suddenly untensing under hers.

The redhead considered it for a moment, then stared at Yelena with a dept that sent shivers down her spine.

"They are, but...at the end of the day, they have their own families. Just like I have you."

She hesitated for only a second.

"We're family, no?"

She had tried to ask it lightheartedly, in an attempt to partially get rid of the solemnity from before, but it was clearly coated with slight uncertainty and a nervous hopefulness.

Yelena blinked in shock at her words, taking it all in.

When it became evident that Natasha was waiting for an actual answer from her — and that she was definitely not joking — she set her jaw, turning her face and shifting a little to bury it in the crook of the redhead's neck, breathing out.

"Yeah."

Natasha let out a little sigh of relief, pulling her closer and almost drawing half of her body on top of herself.

She let her, sinking in the embrace and abandoning herself to the feeling of not having to be ready to fight at any given moment for once.

Of letting someone else look out for her.

It almost felt wrong, getting rid of that weight, but it felt too good to actually be wrong.

"What did I even do to deserve this?"

Natasha shrugged, starting to lightly draw one of her hands across her back, her fingers ghosting over those spots where she knew the blonde wore some of her worst scars.

"You just had to be yourself."

After a beat, Yelena let out a huff in mild disbelief, trying to hide away by pushing her face further against her. "That's sappy." But she couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as she heard a short, quiet laugh resonating in the redhead's throat, before Natasha rested a cheek against her temple. "Sometimes sappy is fine." Yelena thought about it. She turned slightly to press her nose under her jaw and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Yeah, she could live with that. For the first time in maybe forever, there was nothing to worry about, nothing that couldn't be dealt with in the morning. And she wouldn't be alone this time. In a random and small apartment, far away from Russia, far away from America, she was feeling the safest she ever had, like nothing could touch — or even get near — her, and that for a while she could just be. Letting a few minutes ticking by, she noted that Natasha's breaths were starting to become longer and slower. Moving cautiously, she placed a final kiss on the redhead's neck before trying to make herself more comfortable, shuffling a little down her body to go rest her head right under Natasha's collarbone. She liked falling asleep like this, pressed against the redhead's chest, the prickling of the fabric of an old SHIELD t-shirt turned into sleepwear against her skin, keeping her grounded, with the heartbeat directly below her ear as a reminder that her sister was here, alive. And she knew that Natasha, even though she never said it out loud, found deeply soothing finally being able to hold her like this, to feel her tangible and real — there between her arms, after five years spent picturing the blonde crumble into a pile of ashes somewhere unknown, like her friends and half of the universe had done just in front of her. Yelena nuzzled her nose against her shirt, taking back her focus only on the present. She was here, and she was okay. Natasha was here, with her, and she was okay, too. Nothing else mattered. As her eyes were slowly sliding closed, she suddenly remembered something, something she needed to say. She whispered as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb the warm stillness around them, the words coming out slightly muffled from were she was pressed against the redhead. "I love you too, by the way." Nothing happened for a few seconds, and she was already mentally noting to repeat it in the morning, when Natasha shifted sleepily and bent a little to place a kiss on the top of her head. Repositioning herself, she adjusted her arms around Yelena, as she nestled better into her, and she slowly started running her fingers up and down her spine. Yelena sighed and closed her eyes, this time allowing herself to easily drift off. She was finally home. They both were.

Did you know I'd run all day

Just to maybe hear you say

That you are falling too

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aemeth1 · 2 years

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The Return of Natasha Romanov

Doctor Strange brings Natasha Romanov back from the dead and Kate Bishop witnesses the… intense reunion of Natasha and Yelena.

#black widow #natasha and yelena #natasha romanov #yelenat #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #yelena belova #yelena x natasha #natasha romanoff #kate bishop #hawkeye series

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yeahlenas · 3 years

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yelena belova | best fanfic recommendation list

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

welcome to my masterlist of yelena (and natasha) centric fanfiction - there’s not too many out there, but i suspect the tag will explode after the movie finally comes out. but until then i thought i’d share with you the works i’ve found and that i enjoyed immensely!!

this list includes fics with yelena as the main character (not too many), and others where yelenat is the main pairing (romantically/platonically), or yelena is not the main character but still is important and featured.

hopefully this list will give you some new epic content and inspiration for your own works! (cause let’s be honest the internet needs more of these incredible characters)

my own works:

starting this off with some shameless selfpromo hehe ≧◡≦. i never really wrote fanfiction before the character of yelena came and gave me so much inspiration and motivation!!

if i had to perish twice (edge of tomorrow au)

status: completed 1/1 words: 19,549

a loooong and good one (unbiased) to get you started!! this is by far the longest piece of writing i’ve ever done and i’m super proud of it! this is an au of the movie edge of tomorrow, and yelena is the main protagonist. there is also implied stucky and a lot of the avengers show up throughout. yelenat is the main pairing! you don’t have to watch the movie to understand it (i hope), i’ve tried to explain it in the fic to the best of my ability! (that being said, watching the trailer helps and ofc the movie is the very best option, it’s on netflix!)

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082565

i tend not to weep

status: completed 1/1 words: 3,166

natasha and yelena’s cover is blown, and when they escape their plane is shot down - injured yelenat, hurt & comfort and angst.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334447

i’ll be the actress (starring in your bad dreams)

status: completed 1/1 words: 2,610

two russian assassins walk into a bar. it doesn't go how either of them had planned.

a crossover with killing eve, in which yelena meets the mysterious character of villanelle during a mission.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617044

you’ll have a good time with all of these amazing fics:

drip (that’s the sound of your ledger) | LOVE THIS ONE

“ There were whispers, after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fall. They followed Natasha wherever she went, until she could ignore them no longer.

Welcome back to the Red Room.”

status: completed 13/13 words: 86,222 author: songofdefiance

THIS. this fic came out of nowhere and hit me until i was down (and then some more) with the pairing of nat and sharon which i didn’t know i needed!!! great twists, fun adventure, and yelena is giving me all the feels in this one. high re-readability!! the entire fic is incredible and 10000% worth your time - it is also the first in an incredible series, and yelena features more heavily as we go along. i wish i could read it for the first time again!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156134

part one of the this won’t end with a whimper series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156134

black widow: from brooklyn with love

“Rosa Diaz thought her past was dead and buried somewhere out in the Siberian tundra. But when Natasha Romanoff shows up at the 99 with a smile and a bundle of secrets, she knows she has no choice but to finish what Red Room started.”

status: completed 12/12 words: 37,573 author: wonderlander090

i love brooklyn99. i love yelena and natasha. the genius of wonderlander090 wrote a fic of everyone together and it’s SO MUCH FUN! features badass ladies, red room feels and overall epicness.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387431

black widow

“After she released every piece of her secrecy to the world, Natasha Romanoff flees to get back her feeling of being a competent spy. Unfortunately, her old enemies have resurfaced, and have plans that force Natasha to meet old partners and old horrors. “

completed 17/17 words: 58,155 author: clarkesjade

the author’s wonderful take on the black widow movie. personal stakes, dark enemies and espionage with the great trio of nat, yelena and bucky against the world.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284406

taipei

“Yelena is nowhere to be seen, and considering the circumstances, Natalia knows far better than to presume that means she made it out.”

status: completed 1/1 words: 1,518 author: novoaa1 (@ultralightdumbass)

yelenat banter, the best banter there is!! in which yelena and natasha’s paths crosses on a mission.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994090

part of the chance encounter series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809355

remember when we used to play?

“Natalia loves Yelena as fire loves innocence. It destroys and ruins and is doomed.”

status: completed 1/1 words: 2,315 author: hellotomyoldheart (@hellotomyoldheart)

a couple thousand words to step on my heart a couple thousand times :)) a yelenat with red room feels, and just a shit ton of feels in general lol help

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664936

youth (makes fools of us all)

“In 1994, a young Widow is assigned an important mission playing the wife of the Red Guardian. In 1994, two students are selected to accompany them.In 1994, against all machinations of the Red Room, a family is made.“

status: completed 1/1 words: 4,871 author: sanctuaria (@aleksandrachaev)

no words for this beautiful piece!! with the release of the new trailer something like this is canon now, and the entire idea of pretending to be a family and then natasha and yelena becoming one in their hearts is just OWWW, run me over instead, it’d hurt less

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954776

what a wicked game to play (to make me feel this way)

“after you win the games, you lose.” hunger games au.

status: complete 1/1 words: 60,545 author: taylorswift (not THAT ts haha (at least i dont think so??))

this is a clintasha au, so don’t expect tooo much yelena. i love the relationship between yelena and nat in this one though, so here it is!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957505

you made it this far (just a little bit more)

“I'm dead, Yelena says, I killed myself in that room, Natasha didn't need to shoot me for that, and isn't sure it translates.”

status: completed 1/1 series 3/3 words: 35,939 author: notcaycepollard (@notcaycepollard)

yelena is the main character in part 3 of this time travel fix it series. feels a bit au because (obviously) a lot of things were changed and their lives end up being very different. very happy take on everything and if you want some good old serotonin and good times for our characters, this one is so good!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913387

part 3 of the a flame in two cupped hands series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538677

the end (for now) (◕︵◕)

as you can see i get all my yelena fics from ao3, i think that site is just so wonderful and easy to navigate!! i’m updating the yelena tag often, and i’m constantly looking for new good fics to share - so if you’re interested, bookmark this/follow me for future updates! if you have any personal favorites from ao3 that i’ve missed, or from other sites, do not hesitate to share them with me so i can update the list!!

(also i tried to tag the authors i could find on tumblr but idk if it worked?)

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venussaidso · 3 years

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Normal People: ship nat with steve, maria, bucky, bruce etc.

Me, a casual weirdo: ships nat with loki, yelena, clint and harley quinn................

#at least im self-aware #blackfrost #lokinat #clintasha #yelenat #harleynat #natasha romanoff #black widow #natalia alianovna romanova #read fanfiction of these rarepairs then there will be no turning back #lokinat have over 500 works on ao3 and i love it #clintasha aint a rarepair but its become a hated ship :(#it used to be sooooo popular from 2012-2016 #rennersson too

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incorrectyelenat · 4 years

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Yelena: so what's it like living with the avengers?

Wanda: once, i asked natasha for water while she was pissed at me, and she brought me a glass full of ice and said "wait" .

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42wallaby-way-sydney · 4 years

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@widowwivesweek

Day 7: Soulmate AU

>>> [link]

>>> I’ve spent my days waiting for you, searching the crowds for your face. I stopped breathing the moment you recognized me, as you captured my soul with your gaze.

Everyone had a daemon. This was just as known as the sky being blue and grass growing green. To be without a daemon was like walking around without a head. Completely unnatural and not right.

Not everyone has a soulmate.

Playlist:

Когда растает лед by Dima Bilan

Born To Be Yours by Imagine Dragons

космос by Kristina Si

ближе by Elena Temnikova

My Boots by Lights

#widow wives week 2020 #widow wives week #widow wives #yelena belova #natasha romanoff #yelenat #soulmate au #daemon au #my writing #fanfiction #my edit #aesthetic #playlist

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widow-world · 4 years

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Okay but can someone PLEASE make new Yelenat fanfictions? I’ve deadass read every single one on every page of Archive of Our Own, and every single Wattpad.

#yelenat #yelena #yelena belova #crimson widow #black widow #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #yelena x natasha #widows #red room #comics #earth 616 #mcu #lesbians

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nymph-of-books · 4 years

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I can't use the cut because Tumblr so don’t scroll down further than the first ten numbers if you want to do it yourself!!

I was tagged by no one hehe i just found this and thought it'd be fun!! Pick 10 ships without reading the questions! 1. Piper and Annabeth (Riordanverse) 2. Artemisia and Maile (The Ash Princess series) 3. Abby and Leah (Simonverse) 4. Clarisse and Silena (Riordanverse) 5. Natasha and Yelena (Marvel) 6. Anne and Diana (Anne of Green Gables/Anne with an E) 7. Ty Lee and Azula (Avatar: The Last Airbender) 8. Hestia and Athena (Greek Mythology) 9. Luna and Ginny (Harry Potter) 10. Catra and Adora (She-Ra) Yes I did use only wlw ships what about it? (Questions under a cut.) Tagging: Anyone!! I WILL BE DISCUSSING THESE SHIPS SO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO GET SPOILED DON'T LOOK FURTHER Questions! 1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6? Hmm, as I started shipping it in the series, it was probably that episode where they were either seperating from each other or reuniting?? anyway, there was this moment that diana said that she'd never love anyone like she'd love anne, and then anne replied in a shocked tone, "you love me?" "of course i do." i probably didn't quote this perfectly so don't kill me 2. Have you ever read a fanfiction about 2? Haha no, I wish, the Ash Princess fandom is practically non-existent :( 3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr? Honestly, I haven't seen much fanart of Ruegard!! But I normally don't have ships as my pfp/icon/screen saver 4. If 7 were to suddenly break-up today, what would your reaction be? I mean... they technically did,,, even though they're not canon... 5. Why is 1 so important? Honestly, their dynamic as canonical best friends is incredible. They're literally the brain and the heart, and they cannot live without one another. 6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship? It's a cute ship but they have their angst!! 7. Out of all of the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry? HAHA i can't answer this honestly but pipabeth/1 was the first that came to mind. 8. Out of all of your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond? Honestly? My first answer was 5/Yelenat 9. How many times have you read/watched 8’s fandom? I can never read enough greek mythology!! 10. Which ship has lasted the longest? I can imagine Hestia x Athena/8 has been shipped by Ancient Greeks, so I'd say them! 11. How many times, if ever, has 2 broken up? They kissed once?? So they never really broke up. 12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8? 8 are literal goddesses, so they'd win because of immortality. But never underestimate 2. 13. Did 5 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason? Yeah the MCU are homophobes. Or maybe they're canon we do not know yet. 14. Is 4 still together? I'm lowkey crying right now. R.I.P. Silena, even though they never were canon. 15. Is 3 canon? Yes! They're a bisexual power couple :) 16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win? Again, 8 are literal goddesses, but I don't think 3 6 and 9 would win out of everyone. To be honest, they're all lesbian power so they'd all win together :) 17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 10’s ship? I mean,,, they've both almost been killed a bunch of times. And Glimmer was flirting with both of them at some point. Glitradora anyone? 18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond? Honestly? Probably Leah x Abby. They're from my favourite book so... 19. Do you spend hours a day going through 1’s tumblr page? Yes! 20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she´d break them all forever, which ship would you sink? 4, since it's not canon and will never be. R.I.P. Selena :(

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cntrpt · 2 years

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Thoughts have been thought

"One more thing."

She focused her attention on his next words as he closed the file.

"The subject to be tested is Yelena Belova."

—

She wanted more than ever to grab the blonde's arms and yell at her what the hell are you doing, don't listen to them, listen to me but she didn't.

[Part three of If we got each other, and that's all we have]

Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff; Red Room setting;

Words: 5,429

and nothing's wrong when nothing's true

The echo of the soft, deafening ticking coming from the clock on the wall behind her was bouncing on every surface, spreading everywhere, reverberant. So loud. It was nagging at her senses — blatantly not in time with the rhythm of her own heartbeat, which she was trying so hard to control and set accordingly — starting to drive her crazy.

The only other sound that managed to warp the silence filling the small room was the occasional rustling and shuffling of papers, brushing against the dark, wooden desk that separated the two of them. It felt like the air moved by each movement went straight to her lungs, only for it to remain trapped there, barely allowing her to breathe.

"Do you have any idea why I called you here, Natalia?"

She blinked, the suddenly spoken words pulling her out from the daze she had fallen into in the past few, endless, minutes. Her presence had been requested by one of the officers that afternoon — an older widow had personally come to get her, escorting her in his office — and after the usual formalities, since the door was shut behind her, not a whisper had been uttered, leaving a thick air of expectation all around them. The only thing she had gotten out of the widow, now gone, was that she was not about to be punished for anything her brain was already starting to try and recall having done. It was of very little consolation.

She didn't know the man — he was not one of the handlers of her group and she didn't recognize his features, completely unfamiliar — although evidently he knew her. She realized the papers were now resting on the desk, scattered under his crossed hands, and he was watching her carefully, studying her, waiting for an answer. She stared back.

"No, sir."

After a moment, he nodded once, shifting his gaze on one particular file, laying just between them. He picked it up, starting going through the documents.

"Good. I'll try and make this quick. In the last few years, I've been supervising the science department, as a specialized team worked on an old, as much as ambitious, project of the Red Room."

He continued flipping through the pages, as if he was looking for something. Natalia couldn't read anything from where she was sitting across from him, so she just eyed his movements, trying to decipher his words.

"Back in the day, we didn't possess enough of the knowledge necessary to make that vision more than a mere fantasy, but recently our scientists were able to make some significant progress."

She couldn't figure out where he was going with this. His hands stilled, and he met her eyes.

"What do you remember about your first operation undercover? You know, the one in America."

Natalia was taken aback by the abrubt change of subject. Nobody had brought up that mission for years — even when she thought about it almost every day — and the sudden question, now hanging in the air like a Damocles sword, felt like a cold shower on her. She didn't let it show on her face, choosing neutral ground to try and buy herself some time, in order to figure out what he wanted her to say.

"Well, I was young, my only purpose was to increase the credibility of the other agents' cover. There was no need for me to know the main objective, and I was not given any further detail."

He was studying her every word. She knew it. As he stayed silent, she cleared her throat, then attempted to ask a question of her own.

"What is all this about, sir?"

He stared at her a moment more, before clicking his tongue and dropping his gaze once again on the file in his hands.

"There was this idea, long ago, that it would be possible to achieve something that many of us craved, while many others feared. Something that would grant the complete loyalty and efficiency of soldiers and agents of any kind, without having to waste those who don't, or can't, meet our expectations. No more worthless deaths, no more needless...practices. Everyone would be a valuable asset."

Somehow, she managed to show herself unaffected by his words, just listening carefully and slightly furrowing her brow in what she hoped would come off as a focused look. Within her, though, a whirlwind of emotions was starting to make her thoughts erratic and blurry. What the hell was he talking about? A sudden feeling of dread started creeping into her, but she didn't have the time to fully process the new information.

He paused and closed the file, laying it down, his piercing gaze back on her. He was still gauging her reactions.

"What I'm saying here is highly confidential. But I've been told that you are one of the best graduated widows of the Red Room, so I have to trust in your discretion. This has not to leave this room."

With him watching her intently, it was now clear what he was trying to read into her. They obviously needed something from her, and he wanted to make sure she actually could be up to their expectations. She wasn't eager to discover what would happen otherwise.

"Of course, sir."

As she held the man's gaze, that lingering wariness still in it seemed to give in, and she braced herself for whatever might come next. He finally sighed and parted his lips again to speak, leaning toward her and lowering his voice, as if about to tell her a secret.

"We're talking about mind control, Natalia. They aimed to develop chemicals capable of subjugate one's free will, and prevent this way any mistake that could potentially jeopardise a mission, blow someone's cover, endanger other operatives, and so on. It was intended as a...cure, for the weakest minds."

She held her breath while his words sunk heavily into her. They wanted to control their minds as much as their bodies. They wanted to rip from them the only place where they could allow themsevels to feel something. Where they could feel human. What would be left, then? Were they planning to do it to her too?

On the other hand, all the pain they endured, all the one they caused — that she caused — would it still be theirs? Was it better to do something knowing —but would you even know it? — that it was not you in control? Would you still hold yourself responsible? She wasn't sure, but it somehow scared her that he was making it sound almost desiderable. Almost.

"But, as I said, this came with the drawback of a very low understanding of the matter by our part. Our research came to a dead end. Until your mission in Ohio."

The confusion that hit her all at once must've showed on her face, because he flashed a little smirk her way — satisfied with himself for having caused her mask to momentarily crack — and soon went on explaining.

"All you need to know is that the two operatives that were with you were supposed to retrieve key intel about the human brain, which they successfully did. That data was being misspent there, in America, so they brought it home."

Successfully. Among all of what the man had just said, that word stood out to her the most. She felt a wry laugh starting to build up inside of her. Yes, they successfully made her feel happiness, gave her everything she could've ever wanted, and then ripped it all away. They successfully built the perfect life around a three year old child, and then threw her into hell, tearing her — their — reality to pieces.

A wave of shame washed over her, as memories that were supposed to stay hidden in her deepest self suddenly resurfaced, flashing right before her eyes. She should have been better than that, she was supposed to control them, and not let anyone notice when it was them controlling her. It could put her — or worse, the ghosts in her memories — in danger, and she knew in that case she would never be able to forgive herself, there would be nothing left to control her, she should have buried them deeper—

"We could use your help."

Her attention was back to him in an instant.

"Some months ago, they were finally able to synthesize a prototype of that serum that was originally conceived. They've been running tests ever since, refining it, and now we believe it's time we move to the next step. We need to gather data about the limits of the serum, and in order to do so, we want you to fight against one of our selected test subjects."

Natalia allowed herself a few moments to process everything. They were actually doing it. They were doing it, and they wanted her to be a part of it. If it worked, it could mean either good or really bad for her. Did they really trusted her enough to let her out of their control? Was she next?

"Why me?"

The man, that had been watching her carefully the whole time, let out a resigned sigh, as if he was expecting this question, and raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I can't say you were my first choice. A much less experienced girl would have been just fine for this task. But our scientists insisted that, precisely for your skills, you would have been able to make us get all the kind of data we need, without ending up killing the subject, or getting killed yourself, which would both be unnecessary waste."

There was something off about his explanation, something that she couldn't grasp. Maybe it was the fact that, for the first time, they wanted her for her ability to control herself not-to-kill. It was a chance to prevent someone else from dying, while also proving that she didn't need a serum to do what they asked from her. She straightened in her seat.

"What do I have to to?"

He gave her a brief smile and a nod of approval, picking up another paper from the ones still scattered on the desk, looking down at it.

"You'll just have to drag out the fight as long as you can, possibly until somebody will tell you to stop. No fire weapons, it'll be mostly hand-to-hand combat, but you can use whatever you'll find already there. Meet us in the small training room on the second floor tomorrow, at dinner time. Nobody will be around, and nobody will ask questions."

She gave him a sign of acknowledgement while storing the information away. If this was Red Room business, it was not like there was someone else in there who would care about her whereabouts, and skipping dinner definitely wouldn't be a problem. Now she just had to wait for him to give her cue to leave.

"One more thing."

Natalia focused her attention on his next words, as he closed the file and began watching her with a seriousness that made the atmophere around them shift suddenly, now charged with something she couldn't identify.

"The subject to be tested is Yelena Belova."

Oh.

The time in the room freezed, and Natalia with it.

So that's why.

The pieces started to fall into place.

That's why they wanted her.

His whole demeanor and the strange looks. Those questions. The mentions of Ohio. All the praises, the secrecy, the glorification of their doings, the importance of her involvement. But after years, she could see straight through them, under their lies, their empty promises and subtle mind tricks. They wanted to use her against Yelena, and it was the perfect opportunity to also use Yelena against her. See if feelings could get in the way of the serum and, in that case, how it would affect widows and if they could handle it. See how Natasha — Natalia, she reminded herself — would have handled it.

They were going to make them fight eachother, Yelena injected with that thing that could have who knows what effects, all the while both of them were to be studied like rats in a cage. Realization hit her that they must've been experimenting on Yelena for a while now, trying to mold her into a puppet, and she had to increase her efforts in not letting the anger rising within her show.

First, a long time ago, they had taken Yelena from her. And now, they were trying to take Yelena away from herself.

She refrained herself from clenching her jaw or thightening the grip where her hands were resting on her thighs — he would've noticed, his eyes never leaving her — not trusting her voice to come out steady either, so she just stayed still, waiting, leaving the next move up to him.

"You've proved yourself and your loyalty to the Red Room many times, Natalia. But I want you to know that you can choose to back out, if you think this could compromise your status. We'll find someone else."

He was testing her. She knew there wasn't much of a choice. Not only because she would have been admitting that she actually had a weakness — a weakness that they would make sure she would get rid of — but because her replacement wouldn't have wasted the chance to prove their worth and skills, if given one. That meant, no holding back. Overpower the opponent, get them the data they needed and then finish the job. That was the one thing Natasha wouldn't allow to happen.

This time, she could actually do something to prevent it. The hardest part would be not letting Natasha slip through and make them see Natalia in that room instead, so she could save them both. There was no other choice.

"I'll do it."

—•—

The room was still empty when she got there. She had made sure to show up early, in hopes of getting the chance to take a look around and have some more time to collect her thoughts. Since she had left that office, myriads of memories and possibilities have been swarming her head, intruding in her sleep, and she had spent the past twenty-four hours trying to shut them off and reach the right space of mind to go through with this.

Her footsteps, although light, pounded soundly against the hard floor, the echo following her as she examined the place. It seemed like an old, small gym, now redesigned, a one-way mirror replacing part of the wall facing her. She couldn't tell if there were already people behind the glass, or when they would be, so she made sure to keep a straight, almost annoyed look on her face, as she averted her eyes and let them roam over the other few things in the small space.

There were benches on each side, wall bars and ropes, still hanging but clearly disused, that framed the empty middle of the room. Her gaze was drawn by the metal table that occupied one of the corners, and she moved closer to take a better look at what was on top of it.

The surface was pristine, meaning the items placed there — knives, batons, some strings and other scattered working tools — were for them to use. She noticed something sticking out from one of the borders, which upon further inspection revealed itself to be a syringe, taped under the table. She was still crouched down when she heard someone approaching the door, so she swiftly stood up and turned, just in time to see the man of the previous day coming in and halting after a few steps, his stance stiff with his hands tucked behind his back.

"That is for you, should something go wrong. It's a powerful sedative, it knocks someone out for hours, so of course we would prefer it not to be used."

Natalia nodded and moved away, walking to the center of the room.

"The team is already settled. We'll be watching from behind that glass and I'll communicate with you through the speaker."

He pointed to the general direction of the wall, and she supposed it was incorporated in the frame of the mirror.

"Are you ready to start?"

She swallowed the dry No that got caught up in her throat and let out a much more acceptable "Yes, sir," to which he smiled and turned away, raising his voice.

"Let's proceed."

As soon as the words left him, the widow that had been sent to call Natalia and a woman in a lab coat walked in. Squeezed between them, she spotted a glimpse of blonde hair, that one particular shade she knew she couldn't ever forget even if she tried.

When she brought herself to look at her face though, she had to suppress a shudder, the figure presenting in front of her nowhere to be found in any of her memories. There was no trace of that bold expression the Yelena she remembered assumed when presented a challange, no ghost of that radiant smile she got used to think about when she felt cold and alone. Her eyes were empty and staring right ahead to the floor, while the women at her sides supported part of her weight. She was slightly swaying from side to side, seemengly struggling to keep upright. She seemed...drained. Tired. Natasha felt a sharp twinge constricting her chest and her throat burning, realizing that she had been involuntarily holding her breath. She was able to recognize her only because it was her.

She had to use all her might to refrain herself from bolting forward, grab Yelena right then and there and run away. Were they really going to make her fight like this?

Suddenly, Yelena raised her gaze and met hers. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion for a moment, and she parted her lips as if about to say something, but then Natasha saw her eyes widening as something must've clicked in her. She swayed harder and almost stumbled forward, but the hands at her sides kept her still in place.

Never had Natasha seen someone act like this, show this little composure and make it to the next day. Yelena must've been important for them, they needed her. As much as she hated it, she couldn't help but feel glad about it, and proud of her once so-called sister. She couldn't let it show on her face though, so she just kept staring behind an impassive mask, as all kind of different emotions passed through the blonde's eyes.

The man was saying something to the other two agents, but in that moment Natasha couldn't bring herself to care enough to listen. She had seen something light up in Yelena's expression, something painfully akin to hope, but she knew there were people watching, waiting for her to make just the wrong move, and she couldn't, she couldn't.

And then that something died, the spark gone, leaving those pained and painful eyes filled with uncertainty, while they remained firmly locked on Natasha's.

She had to avert her gaze, unable to bear it and scared of what else she could find, focusing her attention on the two women at the blonde' sides. That's when she noticed the older widow moving behind Yelena, taking hold of both her arms to keep her steady, while the other one was pulling a vial out of her pocket, a needle ready in her other hand. Yelena didn't even glance at her, as the woman prepared the injection. She had now lowered her gaze to the redhead's feet, her form defeated and her eyes lost.

The man approached the three of them, turning his back to Natalia, lowering his voice as he spoke to the blonde with a tone that made the redhead' skin crawl and her hands imperceptibly twitch.

"You did very good so far. One last effort and we'll have enough data to work on. Remember, this time it will be a real match. Do as we talked about. Don't hold back."

Yelena's eyes flicked in his direction as he started to pull away, then the woman in the lab coat grabbed one of her arm, and her head snapped towards Natasha, a hint of panic clouding her vision.

Natasha could only watch helplessly as the needle sunk into soft skin, and the unknown liquid began working its way into her sister's body.

It felt as if she was witnessing a complete transformation, Yelena's eyes losing little by little any trace of the previous turmoil, while her back straightened and her figure became more imposing, more confident. Her attention seemed still directed to the redhead, but there was no focus. She was just standing there, with no display of emotions, ready and waiting for orders. It scared Natasha more than it probably should have.

The widow released her and followed the other woman, as they both headed out of the room. The officer stared at the blonde intently for a few seconds more, before eventually speaking up.

"Widow."

Yelena focused on him.

"This is your target. On my signal, attack to kill."

He then turned to Natalia, addressing them both.

"Wait for my order."

They gave him a curt "Yes, sir," before he started toward the door, leaving the two of them alone.

Natasha subtly tried to draw in a deep breath, finally turning to face Yelena, now just a few meters away from her. She was met with a cold stare, devoid of any emotion, so unlike what it was just before and so unlike Yelena. A chill ran down her neck, while she reciprocated with one of her own. The only sound in the room was the relentless beating against her ribcage, spreading in her throat, pounding in her ears. Could Yelena hear it too? She hoped she did. It was the only thing she could give her.

She was almost startled when it was suddenly replaced by the crackly voice of the man, descending on them from every direction, causing her heart to skip a beat.

"Let's begin."

Natasha refocused just in time to see Yelena lunge forward out of the corner of her eye, as though the words had set her free from invisible restraints. She immediately followed suit and leaped sideways, trying to keep a certain distance between them, still taken aback by the sudden reaction. The blonde slowed down and turned toward her, the both of them cautiously starting circling around the center of the room, like predators in a cage, studying each other.

Slowly, with each step she took, reality set in. Yelena was attacking her. She was attacking her with the intention to kill her, she could see it in her face, her stance, her movements. Natasha found the slightest relief realizing that she could still read through the blonde, even after all those years and even when she wasn't really herself.

She noticed that the look in the other's eyes was harsh, almost feral, except that underneath it all it was empty. She couldn't understand where Yelena stopped and the serum began, but she had no time to try figuring it out. They couldn't go on like this for long, they needed to do something, or somebody else would've made them take action on their own terms.

She resolved to take the matter into her hands. Her mouth went dry as she took a calculated step in the blonde's direction, leaving her an opening that she promptly went for.

They fell into an apparently ordinary sparring routine, Natasha mainly dodging and blocking the hits whilst assessing her opponent, but she could already tell the difference from the fights she was used to. Yelena was not warming up, her blows were sharp and rough enough to knock somebody out if not avoided, but she was keeping them predictable, colliding again and again with the redhead arms, resulting in nothing more than early bruising.

Natasha couldn't understand her strategy —if she even had one — and she heard a small, faint question arise inside of her, wondering if maybe her sister was actually there, fighting by her side from within, trying to get a voice and gain a semblance of control. She wanted more than anything to grab the blonde's arms and yell at her what the hell are you doing, don't listen to them, listen to me but she didn't. She didn't, and she threw instead a punch of her own to the other's stomach — it had been left uncovered for the briefest of moments, but it was enough for her instincts to kick in — and she felt as if she had hit herself when she saw Yelena slightly recoil from the surprise more than the blow itself.

In a split-second, something changed in her stare. Natasha managed to see her eyes ignite just before her legs were swept from under her, the blonde already withdrawing her outstretched one to get back up on her feet and launch herself into the next attack.

Natasha rolled onto her back and slided to the side, standing up as she found herself right behind Yelena, and she took the chance to wrap one arm around her neck, while the other went down to pin her forearms against her body. Her impulse of not hurting her, though, had caused her movements to be just a bit too slow in tightening the hold, and the blonde's head suddenly shifted and crashed into her chin, splitting her lower lip and making her lose her grip.

Yelena immediately slipped away and spun around, Natasha already sprinting toward her, and they went back to wrestling eachother to try and get the upper hand.

At some point, Yelena's hands found their way to Natasha's neck, and as soon as the redhead felt them closing up around her throat, she bent her arm and shoved her elbow in the blonde's face. She forced herself to shut out her thoughts and suppress every other instinct that could possibly resurface, as she wrapped her legs around Yelena and flung her against the wall a couple of meters away.

She was still crouched down when Yelena slowly started to drag herself up once again, blood dripping down her nose and staining the floor, reaching for the table nearby to support herself. As soon as she spotted what was on top of it she paused, glancing briefly at Natasha as she was starting to raise as well. She swiftly snatched one of the knives and turned around, starting toward the redhead.

Natasha launched herself at her, dodging the blade and tackling the blonde to the ground, grabbing her wrist trying to disarm her. They rolled on the floor with Natasha's blood blending with Yelena's, which was staining their clothes and smearing them both.

They came to a stop when they bumped into one of the table legs, Natasha pinning Yelena down. Thanks to the favorable position, she managed to get hold of the weapon and lower it to the blonde's neck, confident that she would have blocked it since she had deliberately left her arms free to move.

Nevertheless, she couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her when Yelena's forearms collided with her wrists, the knife close to her throat but not enough to be a threat.

Natasha's blood kept trickling down her chin and started falling down, gathering on their hands hanging between them and dripping on Yelena's chest, just above her collar bones. They were at a stalemate.

Yelena was watching her defiantly, and ignoring their heavy breaths and the ringing in her ears, Natasha realized that they hadn't been given order to stop.

She swallowed hard and locked eyes with Yelena, starting to push downwards against her weaker but lingering resistance. As the blade draw closer, she saw the blonde's eyes widening slightly, and in that moment she knew that her sister was still down there, and she was watching her.

She saw her own carefully disguised fear hidden behind the blonde's gaze — she saw it because she knew where to look — but they both couldn't do anything to prevent the side of the weapon from reaching her strained neck, resting against her throat.

The blade gradually dug into the smooth skin, leaving a horizontal mark that started bleeding almost immediately, Yelena's grip now trembling — or were it Natasha's hands? — as a faint, strangled noise left her. She had to stop, why wouldn't they tell her to stop? An inch more and—

"Enough."

As soon as the word registered in her brain, she threw the knife away, sending it clattering against the wall on the furthest side of the room.

She masked a shaky sigh of relief amongst her ragged panting, placing her hands at either side of Yelena's head to support herself, as she leaned forward and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to quiet down the pounding in her ears.

When she reopened them, she was met with the sight of Yelena's head suddenly jerking from side to side, her entire form squirming in distress as she tried to focus her blurred eyes on her surroundings. When she looked up and her gaze met Natasha's, her breath hitched, quickening, and the redhead could see confusion and — tears? — starting to fill her eyes.

She stared down at her in horror, realizing that the serum effect was vanishing and was leaving the blonde in a way-too-emotional state to let anybody see her like this. Even she herself wasn't sure how much more of the sight before her she could take.

So, when the door opened and footsteps could be heard approaching them, she did the only thing she could think of clearly in that moment, shooting out her arm to snatch the sedative from under the table, before swiftly sticking the short needle in Yelena's neck.

The blonde's eyelids started drooping almost immediately, and when the newcomers stopped by their side, she was already barely conscious.

Natasha teared her eyes off of her sister's face to look up at the few people now gathered around them. The officer from before was inspecting Yelena's form, taking in the blood on her face and clothes, before his attention shifted on Nataha. She held his gaze while he kept watching her thoughtfully, as if they were having a silent exchange.

"We'll have to take her to the infirmary. Pick her up and follow me."

He turned around and made his way to the door, while the other people began scattering around the room.

Natasha pulled herself together, getting off Yelena and carefully slipping her arms under her body to lift her. When she was settled, she started toward where the man was waiting for her outside, but slowed down when she felt the blonde lightly squirming in her arms.

Lowering her gaze, she saw Yelena's half lidded eyes staring back at her with an unreadable expression in them, her face pressed against Natasha's shoulder. Slowly, her arm raised from where it was resting on her stomach, and she placed her hand on the redhead's cheek, gently brushing it with her fingers. Natasha was so stunned that she almost stopped dead in her tracks, unable to do anything but staring at her wide-eyed.

After just a moment, Yelena's hand started sliding back down, her fingers leaving bloodied trails behind them, and her eyelids closed all the way.

By the time they reached the man, she was just lying limp there, dead weight against the redhead's chest, hot-breath feebly hitting her collarbone from where Yelena's head had now nestled slightly over her shoulder. Natasha held her a little tighter to hide the tremor in her hands.

She followed the man through the halls, neither of them saying a word, her grip not loosening until they reached the infirmary and she had to place the blonde on one of the beds there.

As she was setting her down, she found herself mouthing a silent "I'm sorry", the feeling of the man behind her — his eyes never leaving her back — haunting her.

Once he dismissed her, she made her way out at a steady pace, fighting the increasing urge to turn around, hurrying as far away as she could from there when she was sure to be out of sight.

Later, she will spend hours in a random bathroom on the first floor, trying — failing — to wash away the blood on her face and the guilt staining her hands, a new aching settling in her chest that will not leave for too many years.

#angst #hurt/comfort #red room #mind control #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #natasha and yelena #yelenat #marvel #black widow #fanfiction #black widow fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #yelena belova fanfic #fic #mine

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cntrpt · 2 years

Text

She was hearing many voices, but she found herself unable to put a face to most of them. Some were teary and excited, others mournful and filled with remorse. Some were angry. Some she recognized herself in.

If she was forgetting things...

[Part four of If we got each other, and that's all we have]

Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff; Post-Endgame/Post-Hawkeye Fix-It Fic;

[Chapter 1 | Words: 3099] • [Ch. 2] • [Ch. 3]

Tell me if you think that's wrong

If I let you know I'm here

Cause I am falling down

"They say there's a diserter. I heard it's Romanova."

She made it. She's free.

"Yelena, nobody's coming. Not for us."

"What do you mean, I saw her, she's—"

"No, she's not."

She's not coming back for you.

"Our family was never real, so..."

Liar.

Is this real?

"It was real to me, too."

Go. Save the world.

"I'm sorry, Yelena. Natasha is gone."

No, I can feel her, she's still here—

She has to.

"Maybe you'd like a shot at the man responsible for your sister's death."

He is real. He can be killed.

"She made her choice. We just have to find a way to live with that."

Tell me how. Please.

"Steve went back for her. It finally worked."

No. No, It's been months. It can't—

"It's me. I'm really here."

—•—

Yelena's eyes snapped open as she awoke with a start, the breath caught in her throat threatening to suffocate her.

Her head was floating, as the words wrenched from carefully tucked-away memories rang out again and again in her ears. She felt paralyzed. She felt numb.

The telltale signs that she had just come back from a nightmare.

No screaming, or crying, or full-out panic, no, a life spent withholding any sort of emotive reaction had taught her better than that. But this didn't mean her heart was going at a nearly regular pace, or that she could hear anything above the whispers crowding the empty room enveloped in the dark, her eyes scanning wildly what little she could see of her surroundings.

As soon as she recognized the outlines of the small apartment she had settled in, almost a week before, she forced in a deep, shuddering breath, slowly letting it out while squeezing her eyes shut again.

Not this again. But by now she knew what she needed to do.

She started going through what she knew for sure; she was in a temporary safe house in Berlin, some sort of fancy one-room apartment that Mason — she supposed — had somewhat got for her last-minute. She had stopped by Melina's farm for a few days to check how things were going down there, in Russia. She was on her way to go back to America — she couldn't recall exactly why she had to make her way back there of all places — but she guessed she could leave that for later. Natasha was...

"I'm sorry, Yelena."

A sudden twinge made her chest constrict. She tried to wade through the fog occluding her mind, frowning deeply in concentration.

Her sister was...

"Natasha is gone."

She could feel her breaths starting to come out faster. One of her hands went up to press on her forehead and eyelids, pushing away strands of messy hair as she tried to focus.

"It worked."

She was hearing many voices, but she found herself unable to put a face to most of them. They were fragments scattered all around her mind, each one telling her different things and conveying many conflicting emotions. Some were teary and excited, others mournful and filled with remorse. Some were angry. Some she recognized herself in.

The point was, as it had always been, what was true?

Ever since she could remember, most of her dreams and nightmares had been a blurred merge of memories and fantasies. After being subjugated to the chemicals of the mind control, she had started to find more and more difficult to tell the difference. She would wake up with images burned into her brain of missions she didn't remember taking part to, fragments of a life she hadn't lived, and scenes of a life she wished was hers to live.

She was free now, but she was still subjected to her own mind.

When she had been told that five years had passed with her frozen in time in that bathroom, and that Natasha was dead, all of it had worsened. She would wake up believing that it had all been a figment of her own imagination, just for reality to harshly hit her all over again shortly after.

She had dreamed that Melina, with her science that could control lives, could control death too. That her sister's friends — so called earth's mightiest heroes — could actually bring her back. That they could've done something. That she could've done something.

"It's me."

Her jaw clenched as she fought the tears threatening to well up in her eyes. She had imagined it so many times.

And yet...something still felt off.

She lowered her hand and stared at the ceiling in contemplation. She was going to America. She had made a stop in Berlin.

But why was she still in Berlin?

She had always tried to avoid staying in the same place for more than a couple of days while on the move, and that habit had sticked with her over the years.

Tentatively, she pulled herself up to a sitting position, studying the room around her and drawing in some steadier breaths, her hands shifting to firmly grasp at the sheets.

She couldn't remember.

The fabric was rough, and felt real under her touch.

She racked her brains searching for an answer that wouldn't lead her thoughts back to Natasha — because Natasha was dead, and she was so tired of hoping for something different and be let down each and every time. She came up empty.

It was like there was a dark hole in her mind, and the more she tried to dive in to reach for the missing pieces, the more she risked being drawn in the darkness and dragged to the bottom, with no way out. Trapped.

Panic started to rise in her chest, creeping into her mind. She clutched at the sheets harder.

If she was forgetting things...

No. She couldn't think like this, she couldn't handle it. Not now.

With one sharp motion she hastily pushed the covers away, swiftly making her way to the door separating the bathroom from the rest of the apartment. Her feet padded lightly on the floor, but the soft noise was enough to momentarily quiet down the voices in her head.

She focused on that until the door slid closed behind her, her knuckles turning white gripping the door handle, her thoughts directed on maintaining her breaths steady.

Dragging herself to the sink, she quickly turned the faucet on, reveling in the feeling of cold water running down her hands and flowing between her fingers.

Her stomach tightened uncomfortably when she closed her eyes to splash some water on her face, and she couldn't help the little sigh of relief that escaped her when she opened them and found that nothing had changed — she ignored the part of her that felt slightly disappointed.

Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her as she leaned forward, hands open and safely resting against the countertop, and she tried looking through her own image, searching for answers.

"It's me."

The words kept ringing in her ears, and there were those scenes, flashing right before her eyes — the avengers all gathered in one place, Natasha's body colliding with hers and the familiarity of arms tightening around her, the feeling of not wanting to let go — making her feeling like she was going crazy.

It didn't make any sense. Of every scenario she remembered having ever dreamed of, this felt different. Brighter.

More dangerous.

She forcefully shook her head and reached out to the drawer under the sink, hastily pulling it open. Mechanically, her hand went for the handcuffs she kept stashed there — she always brought a pair along wherever she went, for any eventuality — settling them on the counter. Staring down at them now, she wanted to throw up.

She inhaled deeply, curling her fingers against the sink's edges and pressing her palms and fingers down.

In the few times she had seen Natasha after taking down the Red Room, they had tentatively addressed the subject, the redhead sharing her own personal experience and some things that had helped her get through it at the time. She had made Yelena promise to call her if she ever felt like resorting to them again. That she would have answered her phone at any hour, no matter what, or that she would call her back as soon as possible.

Yelena almost let out a wry laugh at the memory, while her chest kept constricting painfully and her mind screamed something she didn't want to hear.

The first time she had felt the need of having that cold metal around her wrist again, to let it dig into her skin, had been the first time she had really tried to sleep after the blip. She had used them also the following night. And the night after that one as well.

The handcuffs had returned to the bottom of her bag only when she had left to hunt down Clint Barton.

She didn't remember how much time had passed since she had last used them, and she really, really, didn't want to reset that count. But, right now, they felt like the sole, familiar thing around her — or anywhere, for that matter. They were the only tangible connection to her past that she could rely on. A past that was very much fucked-up, no doubt, but that was hers, something nobody could ever take away from her, and of that she could be sure.

She didn't want to go back to sleep. She didn't want to do anything, really. But she needed this.

Yelena remained in the bathroom a few more minutes, until something caught her attention above the sound of water running down in the sink, making her movements pause.

It had been just a fleeting moment, but she was sure she had heard it — a muffled clattering, coming from outside.

Slowly turning the water off, she wiped her hands on the towel nearby and reached down under the drawer, grazing the gun taped there, all her senses heightened. If someone was trying to break into the apartment making this much noise, she was sure it couldn't be too much of a threat. But there were no windows in the bathroom, and if they were already in, that meant she was stuck in there. And while she was confident that she could easily take them down even with limited space, she didn't particularly like the feeling of being trapped, especially when she was already struggling to escape her own mind.

The only thing she could keep thinking of, was that she had to get out of there.

A minute passed by, in which she kept completely motionless, barely breathing, her whole body tense and ready to strike. But no noise other than her own heartbeat was reaching her ears.

Her free hand slid on the counter to grab the handcuffs, holding them tightly and drawing them at her side.

Maybe they had gone away. The apartment was supposed to be empty, maybe it was some naive burglar that, upon seeing traces of her presence, gave it up and ran off. Or maybe, they were outside the bathroom door, waiting for her to come out.

Maybe she had just imagined everything.

But then, she heard a quiet shuffling coming from the direction of the front door, not quite near enough to mean that someone was close to the bathroom, and her body reacted in a matter of seconds.

Her hand darted and grabbed the gun, the other shoving the door open while her legs moved of their own accord, rushing outside, and in no time she found herself standing at the furthest corner from the entrance, just beside the bed, the gun ready and aimed at the doorway.

She was about to pull the trigger, waiting just as long as she needed to find a non-lethal spot on her eventual opponents' bodies, but her hands freezed around the weapon.

Her heart, that had been hammering in her chest since she had woken up, felt like it had now completely stopped, replaced by a huge weight twisting and growing inside of her, compressing her lungs.

On the doorway — geared up as if she had just gotten back from a mission, one hand on the door handle and a duffel bag in the other — there was Natasha. Or at least, she was seeing Natasha.

With her eyes locked onto the figure standing right in front of her door, the memories of the nightmares came rushing back to her, flooding her mind with renewed force, pressing more urgently.

She couldn't breathe.

Natasha had let a slightly startled expression slip on her face, but once she realized it had been her who had just stormed out of the bathroom, her shoulders visibly relaxed, and her lips curled into a gentle smile, one of her eyebrows slightly raising in light mockery, and it was all so painfully familiar—

"Ah, there you are."

Her ears had started ringing again, and it took her a moment to notice that Natasha had started to talk. Yelena managed to draw in a shaky breath, and could simply watch as the redhead gave her a small grin and turned to shut and lock the front door.

"Sorry, I didn't want to scare you. I know, I know, I said I would arrive in the morning, but we finished early, so I...thought—"

Natasha had turned around, her voice trailing off. She was now staring at the gun still pointed firmly toward her, Yelena's grip not loosening in the slightest. The blonde could see her eyebrows furrowing in confusion and her gaze shifting down to the handcuffs that, she realized just now, were still in her hands and dangling from her hold on the weapon.

Natasha's eyes briefly met hers — making her feel uncomfortably exposed and suddenly aware of the heavy and labored breaths coming out of her — before moving to the bed, taking in what she could see of the room and the crumpled state of the sheets in the dim light coming through the window.

Yelena tried to swallow, but she noticed that her mouth had gone dry. She felt like paralyzed, her mind split into multiple parts, each of them telling her mixed versions of the same story.

She wanted to believe the one that was trying to remind her all that had happened in the past few months, remind her that Natasha was indeed alive and now standing here with her. But that would have meant believing in resurrection, bring magic and space and gods into the picture. And she just couldn't do that.

She believed in death. She believed in deception. In the red of blood that would inexorably spill out, if you just cut deep enough. In the cold of Russian winters, and the cold of lifeless hands. In bad jokes. In torture. In pain. She believed in not to trust anyone, not even herself. And she didn't know what to do.

When Natasha raised her gaze again, it was filled with worry and uncertainty, and Yelena felt a pang of guilt settle deep into herself. The redhead took a hesitant step forward, letting go of the bag at her side.

"Yelena—"

"Stay there!"

Both of them slightly jolted at the hoarseness and harsheness in her voice, but Natasha did stop immediately, cautiously raising her hands in front of her.

Yelena stepped back, but she bumped against the wall. Her finger was still grazing the trigger.

Natasha tried again, softer.

"Yelena..."

"Please."

This time, her voice came out smaller, weaker, a pleading tone and words that she didn't seem able to control.

"Please, stop."

Natasha went quiet, and they stayed like this — seconds that seemed hours — searching each other's gaze, until Yelena's eyes flicked briefly to look at a particularly dirty and frayed spot right under the shoulder of the black suit.

She had already seen Natasha in similar conditions a few times, on her way back from missions that left her covered in dirt, blood and scrapes. Her mind wouldn't have had to make up that image from nothing, it would have been easier than that.

The redhead followed her gaze and took a moment to consider her own appearance. She then looked at Yelena, seemingly lost in thought. Then glanced down at her bag on the floor, and at the bathroom door between them. Finally, her eyes shifted back to Yelena, a new resolve now settled within them along with the still evident hesitation. She made sure to let the words out slowly.

"Yelena, I'm not sure what's going on, just...just listen to me for a second."

Maybe it was something about the way she had said it, a coaxing tone that was meant to convey safety. Maybe, deep down, she wanted to listen to her, an involuntary desire to cling onto every word the other might utter next. Maybe she just couldn't bring herself to do anything else. Either way, Yelena found herself listening. Natasha took it as her cue and went on, talking softly.

"Now I'm going to come closer and go into the bathroom, so I can get rid of these clothes, ok?"

As she had said it, she slowly lowered her hands to pick up the duffel bag from the floor. Yelena didn't move a muscle, didn't say anything as the redhead gradually started toward her, never breaking eye contact.

"It'll be okay, I promise. I won't be long, and when I come out we'll figure this out together."

Natasha stopped when she reached the bathroom, stretching out her hand toward the door left ajar from the previous outburst, and pushed it open.

She then stared intently at her one last time, opening her mouth as if about to say something else, before thinking better of it and disappearing into the other room.

As soon as the door closed, Yelena felt like she could finally breathe again. She waited a few seconds more, and then forced herself to start taking long, deep breaths, allowing her eyes to slid closed.

It had never been like this. Usually she could snap back to reality before succumbing to any self-induced illusion, and to the pain or hope they brought with them. She didn't know if this was real, or if it meant that she was too far gone now for even fight her way out of her own mind.

Yelena lowered her gun only when she heard the shower starting, and the apartment filled with the sound of water falling.

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cntrpt · 2 years

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👀

She wasn't sure Natasha was actually aware of her presence, her eyes still searching for something she couldn't find, all her efforts seemingly put into keeping a steady breathing, ready to fall into a perfectly modeled mask.

—

She had never begged for mercy, and she thought she would die before ever doing it. But this wasn't about herself, this was about Natasha, and she was willing to do it for her. She just hoped that Melina would too.

—

"I was worried you would come looking for me."

"Do you wish that I didn't?"

[Part two of If we got each other, and that's all we have]

Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff; Red Room setting;

Words: 6734

you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester

Left.

Right.

Cold, green, piercing eyes.

Timing.

The slightest shift in weight.

Back in a perfectly balanced stance.

Control.

Strands of red had started to fall from her tightly pulled up hair, but she seemed not to care, never faltering in the moves she had performed countless times before, following the ever-changing sequence with practiced ease.

She had to put on a show, after all.

Faintly aware of the multiple eyes mesmerized by her fluid movements, her focus solely on the task. She was deadly graceful, fast but precise. Elusive, untouchable. Unapproachable.

Like everyone else, Yelena could only watch, sitting on the training room floor amongst all the other girls. All wore the same enraptured gaze, carefully studying the older widow in front of them. A widow that an old, tiny part of the blonde persisted in calling sestra, an hidden spot that in moments like this made itself known by filling with pride.

Suddenly, she was snapped back to attention, along with the neck of the man who had just fulfilled his role as the Black Widow prey.

He was one of the newest Hydra recruits, perfectly expendable. Plenty of them there. It wasn't unusual for groups of widows to be transferred for a few days to some Hydra bases, in order to experiment variations in their training. The number of soldiers there was much higher, and older widows had permission to use some of the most unexperienced ones to teach fighting techniques to the younger girls.

Yelena dreaded the notice of such special-trainings, because some widows wouldn't come back from them — accidents, they said.

Yelena also eagerly awaited it, because they were the only moments she could find herself close to Natasha. It was not certain, the senior widows that went with them weren't always the same, but just the possibility was enough to light her up with sparkles of hope, hope she needed in order to be part of the group of girls that would come back.

In the Red Room, their paths rarely crossed, and when they did, no lingering nor sign of recognition would have been tolerated.

But here, it was different. Many handlers were Hydra's, and if they knew, they mostly didn't care about possible connections between widows. Here, they were simply two in a crowd of nameless weapons.

So, while Natasha would performe her demonstration, Yelena could safely let her eyes take in her figure, seemingly studying the moves displayed before them, while internally she would be noting all the changes from the latest memory of her she had.

And when the girls would be divided into pairs to try to replicate the sequence, and the older ones would walk around to make sure of its correct execution, Natasha could slow down her pace while passing by Yelena's spot, and observe her posture, her arms, her face more thoroughly. And if her eyes never dwelled on the opponent girl, even while hastily pointing out some adjustments to the pair, well, nobody ever said anything about it.

Then she would turn her head and move to the next girls, never looking back.

Each time, Yelena had to refrain herself from calling after her to ask for some other advice, for a little more attention. But they couldn't risk more than that, Natasha — always the most cautios one — wouldn't have let her, but it was enough. It had to be.

So, today Yelena watched, as red hair tinged of a different, more bloody shade.

Tomorrow, maybe Natasha will supervise her sister as she'll do the same.

A week later, they will start waiting for the next notice, hoping to survive long enough to do this all over again.

—•—

She wasn't there.

Yelena walked down the corridor with blossoming apprehension, an unusual feeling that had started making itself known only moments before — poking at her gut, twisting her stomach — and was now reverberating throught her whole body, permeating all her senses.

After dinner, her group was starting to head out, as the older widows swarmed into the room for the shift change. They strolled past them neatly, not showing any sign of the fatigue they should have been feeling, consequence of their own training session after a day of tutoring the younger girls.

Yelena had observed them carefully, quick glances that made for an approximative inspection, and then dared to double-check with a sinking feeling in her stomach, upon realizing that her attention hadn't been drawn by any redhead.

Natasha wasn't with them.

Maybe she had decided to skip dinner. Or she had been held up at training. Yeah, that was probably — definetly — what had happened. From their first day at the base, not a dinner had passed by without their paths crossing in a sort of silent farewell, it was like a tacit agreement between them.

But she found no comfort in her deduction, since extra-training had always meant anything but good. Her pace slightly increased while she kept strolling through the corridors, now hoping to run into her there, whatever might have been the reason of the redhead's lateness.

As she approached the training area, somewhere, hidden to her view, a door slammed open, and voices suddenly started flooding the halls, instantly dissipating all her last hopes. They were clearly coming in her direction, the raising volume of their snickers, at what had to be some sort of joke, and the following shushing still giving them away.

She was quick in turning right and slowly heading towards the sleeping quarters, mingling with some other girls lingering in the hall, so as not to attract undesired attention.

As they passed by, coming briefly into her view — they were three soldiers, not enough old to be of the highest ranks, but nonetheless exuding that peculiar confidence that accompanied who was aware to be untouchable, privileged — she tried to grasp bits of what they were talking about.

" -one of the best? Surely didn't seem like it, back there, if- "

Yelena didn't like where this was going. At all.

She waited a few seconds more, until the only noise left was of the blood pumping in her own ears, then turned back in her track, and went straight in the direction they had come from.

Nobody was around — nobody should have, this late in the evening — the place still and silent, the echo of her steps following her through the corridors, looking hastily left and right for a lead.

She was about to start examining each and every room in the facility, when she spotted a door slightly open a few meters away, on her left.

She slowed down and carefully made her way to it, sharpening her senses and readying herself, every possible scenario she could think of now flashing before her eyes.

She peeked through the opening, feeling her blood run cold when her eyes landed on a faint trail of blood, smeared on the floor and continuing out of her view.

Shuffling forward and realigning herself, she sucked in a sharp breath as she took in the sight of a figure, huddled against the wall.

There she was, Natasha, legs drawn to her chest and arms crossed above them, the uniform disheveled and messy, her hands rubbing and scratching mindlessly at her upper arms. Her gaze glassy and far away.

It was such a contrast image to what Yelena had seen just mere hours prior, that she found herself freezed on the spot, staring at an unusual handprint, right there, on the wall — unusual not because it was blood, but because it was Natalia's — while her muscles refused to move.

Finally, she shook herself out of her trance and stepped right away into the room, trying to contain the suddenness of her actions — even if every part of her ached to just run in as fast as possible, but this was what Yelena needed — closing the door behind her.

As soon as she had first touched the door, Natasha's gaze had hardened, her hands steadying, nails now digging into the skin. She seemed ready to stand up and bolt — or, in a worse case scenario, simply walk away, like nothing had happened.

"It's just me."

Natasha's head snapped vaguely in her direction, but her eyes remained unfocused. Still, Yelena could see the way her posture slumped a bit and her fingers unhooked slightly, the way her body knew that this was someone that could be trusted.

She tentatively stepped forward, hands raised and open in front of her. When she saw no reaction from the redhead, she took courage and slowly made her way up to her.

Yelena crouched down, keeping a short distance between them. She was at a loss of what to do, never really having been in the position of offering something — help? — to someone else, least of all her sister. From what she could remember, it had always been the other way around.

She wasn't even sure Natasha was actually aware of her presence, her eyes still searching for something she couldn't find, and all her efforts seemingly put into keeping a steady breathing, ready to fall into a perfectly modeled mask.

They couldn't stay there, anyone could come in, and she didn't even want to think about the consequences. But she couldn't leave her like this either.

She let her gaze wander around the room, taking in the silence that filled the place, while a thought started to form in her mind.

Her eyes darted back to Natasha, a new determination settled within.

"Can I touch you?"

No response besides a hitch in her breathing at the sudden noise, the only sign that she had heard the blonde.

Yelena exhaled and waited a few seconds more, before continuing more softly.

"I'm going to grab your arm and help you up, okay?"

She didn't actually expect an answer, but she wanted Natasha to know that she had the power to choose.

After a beat, she cautiously reached out and brushed her fingers on the redhead's, where they were still clawing at her skin.

The grip constricted for a moment, then it loosened ever so slightly. Yelena took this as her cue to trail her hand all the way to Natasha's shoulder and slip it around her back, stopping between her shoulder blades, never breaking contact to let her movements be known. Her other hand was now resting on the scarred arm, holding it while she started to lift both of them up.

She was almost taken aback by the ease with which Natasha followed her lead and let be pulled to her feet, folding her arms around herself in the process — whether it was to shield herself, or to prevent Yelena from seeing the stains of blood on her training gear, the blonde didn't want to know.

She started toward the exit, Natasha leaning more firmly against her, but still with that haunted look that had yet to falter.

Having made sure no one was around, Yelena opened the door just wide enough to let them slip through, then lead the way through the several corridors that separated them from her selected destination.

One good thing that came with staying at Hydra's facilities was that they were bigger and with a different organization regarding common spaces. Shared rooms generally could accommodate up to six or eight soldiers, and the largest ones were always assigned to the youngers. So, during their brief time there, most widows were provided with individual rooms, something they knew was to be treasured — because there was nowhere else they would have been really let be alone. Now, Yelena only hoped not to run into anyone, while she tried to get the two of them to her own.

This late in the evening, almost everyone who was not still dining should have been in their room, not coming out till morning. Watchmen — soldiers and Red Room's keepers — made sure of that, walking up and down the halls all night, disappearing only at the crack of dawn.

They were halfway through, and Yelena was starting to think that maybe they would be able to pull it off smoothly, for once in their lives.

One more turn to the right, and they would have made it. She released the breath she had been holding, as the junction at the end of the corridor came into view.

That was her first mistake. She realized it too late, when rhythmic footsteps could already be heard approaching from the left end, too fast to turn around and change path. Her second one was freezing on the spot, not releasing her grip on Natasha, even worse, tightening it.

The redhead gave no signs of aknowledgment, but her eyes were now fixed in direction of the echoing pounding, her gaze steeled with a deadly stare that meant only one thing.

Maybe they were screwed, but the other person was too.

However, Yelena felt both of their bodies stiffening at the appearance of a figure that many would have deemed frightening, threatening, or at least felt intimidated just by being in her presence. But not them. She didn't know what their feelings were or should have been, but one thing for sure, they weren't scared of her.

Melina.

She had noticed them too, turning slightly and stopping dead in her tracks, not far enough as to let the briefest flash of shock on her face go unnoticed.

And suddenly they weren't there anymore, and they weren't themselves, but two children, sneaking back to bed after a mission to retrieving late night snacks, about to be scolded by their mother and receive a lecture about the importance of sleep and sticking to rules.

But that was another life.

Shrugging the fog of her memories off, Yelena's hand on Natasha's back went up to her far shoulder, drawing her closer protectively, because she remembered she didn't know who this woman was. She only knew who she had pretended to be, a long time ago, but now she found herself clinging to the possibility that not everything had been a lie, trying to convey it all in her eyes locked on the woman's.

She had never begged for mercy, and she thought she would die before ever doing it. But this wasn't about herself, this was about Natasha — about her sister, about Melina's daughter — and she was willing to do it for her. She just hoped that Melina would too.

Still, she couldn't help that hint of defiance in her stare that she reserved for the world, daring it to do her another wrong, to throw something more at her.

It wasn't the first time she had come across Melina, but it was the first one out of the Red Room. Especially when General Dreykov was around, it wasn't rare for her to be spotted walking in and out of his office, with or without reports. During her visits, she would usually stop by sparring mats and ballet classes to watch over widows practicing. Yelena herself had felt her eyes laid on her form, fighting off the urge to reciprocate her stare for the few seconds she had the older woman's attention for herself.

Except, this time Melina was actually seeing them, both of them, with all their scars, her eyes lingering on the ones that were not bleeding, the ones she was responsible for.

The blonde saw her gaze roam over Natasha's body — she didn't know how much awareness of the situation the redhead actually had, but she felt her form shrinking subtly beside her nonetheless — an unreadable expression on her face.

After what seemed like an eternity, Melina's eyes came back up and met Yelena's, looking at her meaningfully.

She gave a curt nod and turned around, walking back down the way she had come from, her pace slower.

Yelena started moving on autopilot, and before even realizing it, she was dragging Natasha down the final part of the corridor and by the row of doors, stopping only in front of hers.

Pausing for a moment, she glanced back, but Melina had already vanished.

—•—

Yelena closed the door behind her with one hand, the other still around Natasha.

Still gripping the doorknob, she exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment as she let the adrenalyne wear off, trying to process the events of the past thirty minutes. Had she made the right call? She was in no way prepared to handle this. What if she had just made things worse? What if Melina-

All of her worries faded into background noise when she felt Natasha shifting and pulling away slightly from her. She let her go, giving her time to take in her surroundings and giving herself a chance to think about what to do next. She hesitantly cleared her throat.

"So..."

The silence was becoming unbearable, and her voice cut right through it, drawing Natasha's gaze back on her. She felt a wave of relief washing over her, noticing that it had regained some sort of clearness.

"Welcome to my- "

She gestured lightly around, trying to ease a little of the tension engulfing her. Natasha was watching her like she was seeing her for the first time, her brow furrowed, trying to reassemble the missing pieces in her memory. She finished in a whisper.

" -place."

Yelena shifted uncomfortably, the intensity of the other' stare making her wanting to run away or sprint forward and crush into her sister's arms all at once, like she used to — when she stained herself red with strawberries, when the dirt on her hands was only that, dirt, and when she actually was her sister.

Instead, she swallowed hard and started fidgeting with her fingers, looking down intently.

"I- I didn't see you. At dinner. When- "

"I was worried you would come looking for me."

Her eyes snapped back up, Natasha's voice raspy and low, almost unrecognizable, nevertheless trying to convey firmness in her tone. She had an indecipherable look on her face, and Yelena was taken aback by being the one she was putting on that impassive mask with. It was only when she noticed the redhead's hands' slight tremble — she was trying, and failing, to conceal it — that she regained the courage to speak and ask.

"Do you wish that I didn't?"

She could see the conflict unfolding behind her green eyes, rationality telling her what they both knew she should have said. Its defeat was revealed by a tired sigh and a softening in her gaze.

"No."

Yelena felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest, finally allowing her to breath properly, as silence filled the room once again. She was still trying to figure out what she should do or not, but when she noticed Natasha's stare shifting to a point behind her, starting to go back somewhere Yelena couldn't follow, instantly all she knew was that she wasn't going to let it happen. She had to snap her out of it. Her eyes fell for a moment on the blood staining the other's clothes.

"Do you...I mean- "

Natasha's attention was back on her in an instant, and she had to swallow before continuing.

"If you want...you can use the bathroom. And my shower is free, I've already gone before dinner."

The redhead furrowed her brow, pondering her words, her eyes still distant. Yelena went on talking, trying to keep her here.

"I just thought that...you know, after- "

The words caught in her throat as soon as she saw Natasha tensing up.

" -training."

She finished in a little voice, standing still on the spot as she waited for a reaction. Natasha slowly brought up her hands, examining the dried blood onto them and under her nails. She then trailed her gaze on herself, as if taking in her own condition for the first time. Finally, she raised her head and nodded, a still confused look in her eyes. Yelena nodded back.

"Okay..."

She moved a couple of steps towards her, but stopped immediately when she saw Natasha backing away, her arms once again crossed in front of herself. Her head turned to the side, jaw clenched, refusing to meet the blonde's gaze.

Yelena understood, she really did. Still, she couldn't help feeling a pang of hurt at the involuntary rejection. She assessed the situation for a few seconds, before turning to her right and opening one of the drawers in front of her. She pulled out some underwear, extending her arm for Natasha to come and take them, her eyes not leaving the plain colors of the clothes before her.

A moment passed by, then she felt the redhead shifting and drawing nearer, hesitantly taking the items she was being handed, then heading toward the bathroom.

There were a few beats of silence, then a whispered "Thank you" before the door shut.

Yelena dared to close the drawer and move away only when she heard the water starting running.

She felt like stuck in the worst nightmare she had ever had, and at the same time in one of her best and most recurring dreams.

Usually though, it was Natasha coming to rescue her, gun in hand and a plan to escape, telling her that everything would be alright. Lately, she had found these dreams becoming more and more rare.

She approached the small wardrobe on the other side of the room, starting rummaging through it for the sweatshirt and sweatpants she used to sleep in. She then selected a sweater and another pair of sweatpants, similar to hers, to give Natasha.

The Red Room provided everyone with all the types of clothes they could need, from uniforms, to training suits and even some more plain ones, usually to be brought along in long missions and stayings like this.

They were all identical from girl to girl, some wouldn't need them for long anyway, and in that case the newly ownerless garments would have been quick and easy to reassign.

Yelena let her hand trail along the dark fabric, as she set down the pieces of clothing on the bed, then proceded starting changing into her owns.

She was finding hard to belive that the girl, woman, in her bathroom was the same kid she knew all those years ago — ready to go against her own past and training to protect her 'little sister' from a whole unit of soldiers and Dreykov himself — the same woman she had seen just that morning — killing a man with the coldest expression she could muster. She realized she had so many layers. Yelena couldn't help but wonder if those three years had been one of the fake ones.

She pushed that thought away almost instantly. Natasha wouldn't have risked her own life to keep her safe if she didn't actually care. All those stolen glances through the years, Yelena couldn't have imagined them. She couldn't, because if she did...she just couldn't.

She was brought back to reality when she realized that the silence surrounding her had prolonged for too long. The shower had been turned off for a while now, and the quiet shuffling that followed had now been replaced by a deafening nothingness.

She made her way to the door separating her from the redhead, not wanting to leave her alone for too long. She knocked gently.

"Natalia?"

The name sounded foreign coming out of her lips, but she gave it a try nonetheless, unsure of where they stood with each other. Nevertheless, it was met with silence.

"Natasha?"

She tried again, almost scared to pronounce that name out loud. It was the first time in years.

When once again there was no reply, she grabbed the door handle.

"I'm coming in."

Yelena gave her one more moment, before opening the door. The sight she was met with was not one she would have easily forgotten.

Natasha was in the underwear she had been given, standing in front of the mirror situated above the sink. Her hands were raised, her fingers trailing along the bruises covering her neck and her eyes glued to the reflection staring back at her.

Yelena held her breath while taking in the multiple red, and blue, and purple marks that accompanied old — more yellowish — and fresh cuts littering the other's body. Natalia Romanova was supposed to be untouchable. They always told them that she was one of the best. So, what did this mean for the others?

The blonde moved instinctively, stepping in and positioning herself right in front of the redhead, blocking her view. Natasha barely looked at her, eyes once again distant and glazed. She slowly reached out and grasped at her hands, pulling them away.

"Hey..."

Natasha followed the movement, blinking twice and then furrowing her brow, keeping her gaze locked onto their joined hands. Yelena glanced at the open door and let out a shuddering breath, looking back and searching her face for any sign of discomfort.

"Come on."

She gently tugged her towards the other room, Natasha letting herself be led without any resistance. They left the bathroom behind them and slowly made their way to the bed, Yelena maneuvering the redhead so as to make her sit on the edge of one side of it. She eyed the redhead worriedly, feeling her chest constricting when she noticed that Natasha had yet to make a move to let go of her hand, her eyes pointedly to the floor.

With a tentative, final squeeze, she let go first, grabbing the sweatpants lying on the bed and kneeling down, starting to slip Natasha's legs throught them. Being this close, she was able to discern the different shapes and sizes of the blue splotches that were concentrated on her inner tighs. She paused for a moment, suddenly feeling the quiet rage that had been swirling through her now threatening to spill over.

She motioned for Natasha to hold onto her shoulders and stand up slightly, so she could pull the sweatpants all the way up — and as an excuse to hide her face from her, trying to maintain her composure for the sake of them both. Still not uttering a word, Natasha swiftly complied, and Yelena decided to take it as a good sign.

When Natasha was seated again, the blonde tentatively met her gaze while starting to pull away, and was relieved to finally be able to detect something — confusion, mainly, but there was also a hint of apprehension — behind the unusually dull green.

"I'll be right back."

Yelena returned from the bathroom a few seconds later, hairdryer in one hand, a wet towel and bandages in the other, which she placed on the bedside table. She beckoned Natasha to bow her head and turned the thing on, the loud noise filling the room being sort of alienating, giving her the chance to try and clear her mind.

With her free hand she started to untangle the damp hair, trying to keep her touch feather-light, but soon she felt Natasha's scalp pressed more firmly against her palm, her head faintly following the movements.

She didn't remember the last time someone did something like this for her. She only knew that it had to have been her mom — not the Iron Maiden, but her mom — who, on their last year in Ohio, had gotten into the habit of combing, and drying, and braiding their hair for them. She hoped her last time hadn't been one of those in which she would run around the house, mom chasing her, hairbrush in her hand, both yelling for her sister to come and help them. Or maybe she did. She wondered if that had been the last time for Natasha too.

She kept running her fingers through the red tresses — her fingertips lingering whenever they passed on what had to be an old, little scar, near the nape of her neck — until they seemed dry enough. It didn't go unnoticed that, by then, Natasha had been with her eyes closed for a while, although she was quick in opening them when she sensed Yelena turning off the hairdryer and putting it away.

The blonde fetched the wet towel and turned back, taking one of Natasha's arms in her hand and starting to wipe the crescent-shaped marks to make sure they were clean. It was not really necessary, but she felt like she needed to do this anyway.

When she was done, she took the bandages and carefully wrapped them around it, before moving to the other arm and repeating the same process. Still without saying a word, Natasha was keeping her gaze locked on her every move, with a somewhat thoughtful espression on her face. There were a couple of times her breathing changed briefly, but then her jaw clenched, as if she was refraining herself from saying something.

When Yelena raised her head to proceed tending to her split lip and the cut on the forehead, she noted how her mouth swiftly opened and closed right away, her gaze returning obstinately to the ground. Yelena didn't push though, busying herself with dabbing at some persistent dried blood just above the chin — that had been trickling down her lips for suspiciously long — keeping it up and steady with the fingers of her free hand.

When she felt satisfied with her work, she moved one hand to the back of Natasha's head, the other brushing the cloth against her forhead. That was when she suddenly spoke up.

"They..."

She trailed off almost immediately. Yelena didn't falter in her movements, just waiting for her to continue.

"They're going to do this to you, too."

She paused at that, hand still midair, the other tightening imperceptibly over the red hair. She glanced at her face, but it was unreadable as ever. She couldn't tell if it was a statement meant for her, or a realization that had hit Natasha herself. She pondered how to reply. The last thing she wanted was to upset Natasha more. But it was also the first time they could actually talk to each other in years, and she even less wanted to lie. The towel resumed its motions.

"They already did."

She could instantly feel Natasha's whole body stiffening under her touch and her breath hitching. She winced.

Maybe she should have lied.

She tried to backtrack somehow.

"I- I mean, it was not exactly- "

"I'm sorry."

It was a whisper, but Yelena was able to catch the words anyway. She stopped again, pulling away slightly to get a better look at Natasha. Her face was tense, a moltitude of emotions now flooding her eyes, undoubtedly reflecting some inner, deeper, overwhelming feelings she was finding herself forced to deal with.

Yelena lowered her gaze, and saw that her hands were back at grasping tightly at her arms, rubbing over the bandages. She quickly kneeled down and moved to cover Natasha's hands with hers, effectively making them coming to a rest.

"Stop it, or I'll have to do this all over again."

Natasha averted her eyes, lowering her voice even more.

"I'm sorry."

It was not for the bandages. Maybe it wasn't even about what she had just been told. Yelena sighed, inspecting her arms.

"Me too."

She got up, setting the towel aside and picking up the sweater, unfolding it. She motioned for Natasha to lift her arms, proceeding to guide them and her head through the holes. After it was pulled all the way down, her body now fully covered, Natasha's form seemed to relax a bit. Yelena went to the nightstand to collect the items used and put them back.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she found Natasha in the exact same position as before, but now there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes, her hands fidgeting with the sleeves covering them. She stepped closer, insecurity creeping into her again at the sight.

"What are you doing? You...don't want to sleep?"

Natasha's head snapped in her direction, then she lowered her gaze on her hands, frowning.

"I don't think I should stay here. It's not- It's not safe. If- "

"Nonsense."

The bluntness with which Yelena said it surprised them both, the redhead's eyes back on her. She didn't meant for it to come out this harsh, but what did Natasha expect? That she was still that cheerful six-year-old child, jumping into things without thinking it through? This was her choice, their chance, and she wasn't about to miss it or fuck things up. She tried to soften her voice.

"What will happen if they see you wandering around at this hour? If you're caught sneaking out of here?"

"You shouldn't have brought me here, in the first place."

She had almost forgottend how stubborn Natasha could be. Almost.

"You really think that I could have just left you there? That I could ever?"

Natasha didn't respond, looking at the floor and clenching her jaw. Yelena released a breath.

"It's safer if you leave early in the morning."

She made her way to her and grabbed the hem of the blanket, starting to lift it up and motioning for Natasha to get up.

"Here."

The redhead eyed her for a moment and then glared at the pillow, furrowing her brow as she considered her options.

"Please."

At this final, whispered plea, Natasha finally surrendered. She tentatively stood up and allowed Yelena to pull down the covers, walking around her and plopping down on the bare mattress. When she was settled, the blonde lifted and lowered the blanket over her, effectively tucking her in with a satisfied sigh. She then went back to her own side of the bed — which ordinarily wasn't suited for two people, but it was still large enough to let them both enough room to move — and got in as well.

Natasha was laying on her back with her arms resting on her stomach, pointedly looking at the patterns traced by her fingers on the covers. Yelena tried to ask the question in the most casual way possible.

"Lights on or lights off?"

The redhead's hands stopped and she cleared her throat.

"Off. It's okay."

Yelena reached out for the switch above her nightstand, the one that regulated every dim lights in the room, and darkness enveloped them, cracked only by the moonlight seeping through the half-open window. Once her eyes had adjusted to the shadows, and she was able to distinguish the outlines around her, she turned, and found out that Natasha was now staring at her, gaze unwavering for the first time that night. Yelena settled down and onto her side, locking her eyes with her shimmering ones, trying to decipher what was within them.

Natasha held her stare for a few moments more, then swallowed, turning back towards the ceiling, her hands resuming their nervous fiddling. Yelena moved a inch closer and reached out to rest her hand above them. She forced herself to keep it in place when she felt Natasha tensing, hoping not to be herself one more cause of the other's upsetting.

"You didn't have to do this."

It was so sudden and so low that Yelena almost missed it. She stroked her thumb on the back of one of her hands.

"But I wanted to."

It fully hit her then, that Natasha's whole demeanor was more than likely springing from a place of guilt and self-loathing, feelings that she must have been carrying with her for all those years, since that day they had been taken away. The fact that she wouldn't meet her eyes, that she was so reluctant to accept that Yelena wanted to help her. Maybe she even felt like she didn't deserve it. The blonde already suspected that, but had never thought about the failure that that day must have represented for Natasha. The blonde thought about it as the day her sister had been taken away from her, and she was always just glad when they could see each other — alive — even if only for a few seconds. Maybe Natasha wasn't so happy to see her, to be reminded of her mistakes each time their eyes met. But Yelena wasn't going to let her despise herself for that.

"I missed you."

Natasha's hands twitched under hers. She turned her head slightly in Yelena's direction, seemingly about to say something, but then she thought better of it. With a hint of hopefulness, Yelena felt her starting to move, but then she realized that she was turning on the opposite side, giving her her back, the blonde's hand now finding itself resting above her hip. She pulled it back as if she had been burnt, afraid to have read this all wrong. Maybe Natasha simply wanted to forget everything and leave their past behind her, but she didn't know how to tell Yelena. And the blonde was just making things harder for her.

She still had her arm half-raised between them, and was about to withdraw it and turn away as well, when suddenly she felt Natasha shuffling backwards until her back brushed against Yelena's outstretched hand.

She freezed, caught of guard, unsure of what to do next. After a few seconds of debating herself, she sucked in a breath, pushing her hand forward and very hesitantly splaying it against the fabric of the sweater. When Natasha didn't pull away, on the contrary, some of the previous tension seemed to leave her at the touch, she dared to start tracing circles with her thumb, sliding her hand up and down in a soothing motion, and then tentatively bringing it back to where it had been before, just above her side.

At that, Natasha began moving backwards once again, slowly shuffling closer until her back was pressed against Yelena. The blonde was left so dumbfounded by this, that she found herself paralyzed, her mind trying to catch up with what was going on. She was able to recover only when she felt Natasha's stiffness increasing at her lack of a reaction, her shoulders shrinking uncomfortably. She swiftly lowered her free arm, the other now squished between them, encircling her middle and pulling her close. Natasha finally relaxed more fully, releasing a breath and wriggling a bit to make herself comfortable. Yelena tightened her hold as much as she could, mindful of the redhead's injures.

She let her forehead rest against the back of Natasha's head, taking in that now-different, yet familiar, scent that made her feel at home for the first time in years. She closed her eyes, her hand starting to play with the folds and wrinkles of the sweater.

"I'll give it back before I go, don't worry."

Yelena opened her eyes confusedly at the suddenly murmured statement.

"What?"

"Your clothes. I'll put mine back on, so nobody will suspect anything."

Yelena almost laughed at her always-extreme caution, noting that it hadn't changed. But she didn't, because she knew where it came from.

"It's just a sweater. They all look the same."

Also, she didn't want her to wear those clothes again, at least not so soon.

"But then, I don't know if I will be able to return it. If we'll ever- "

She trailed off, because there was no need for it to be said out loud. If we'll ever be together again. Yelena's grip became more firm.

"You can keep it. It's just a sweater, Natasha."

"No."

The sudden reply startled her a bit. She saw her tilt her head and nuzzle the fabric. If they weren't this close, Yelena wouldn't have been able to hear her.

"No, it's not."

Natasha's hand found hers on her stomach and intertwined their fingers for a moment, giving a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you."

She then slided it up to take hold of Yelena wrist, her thumb tracing along the invisible red mark around it, that she knew was there.

Yelena couldn't respond due to the lump that was growing in her throat, emotions overwhelming her as all the built up tension and anxiety of the previous hours melted away.

She pushed herself up slightly and raised her head to place a kiss on top of hers — a gesture that felt both completely wrong and definetly right — memories of a younger Natasha doing the exact same to her washing over them.

Repositioning herself and settling down, Yelena buried her face in red hair without fear of suddenly waking up.

For tonight, this was enough.

#the way I delayed this for a week because I had to wait for the right vibes to write the last part properly #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #red room #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfiction #yelena belova fanfiction #natasha and yelena #yelenat #black widow fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #yelena belova fanfic #marvel #black widow #fanfiction #mine

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aemeth1 · 2 years

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The final chapter of "The Return of Natasha Romanov" :)

#black widow #yelenat #yelena x natasha #yelena belova #natasha romanov #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

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cntrpt · 2 years

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"Just..."

The blonde took a moment to breathe in and out, then she briefly glanced to the side.

"Speak to me?"

[Part four of If we got each other, and that's all we have]

Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff; Post-Endgame/Post-Hawkeye Fix-It Fic;

[Ch. 1] • [Chapter 2 | Words: 4054] • [Ch. 3]

Natasha stepped out of the shower, already starting to dry off with the first towel she had found in the bathroom. Her body was moving automatically while her mind raced, trying to reflect about what she needed to do next.

She wanted to go back out there as quickly as she could.

Clearly, Yelena had woken up from what she supposed had been some sort of nightmare not too long before her arrival, and she couldn't help but beat herself up a little at the thought.

While she rationally knew that it was impossible for them to be together all the time, the only thing she could keep thinking of at that very moment was that she should've been there.

She owed her this, at least.

She had convinced herself she had saved her from the Red Room, in that damned Budapest mission with Clint — then kept a distance between them, afraid to discover that she had not — hoping Yelena would have been able to live a better life than hers, and had ended up abandoning her even deeper into their clutches.

Years later, she had prayed her sacrifice would have been enough to bring Yelena back and let her finally live — give her the opportunity to experience a whole world that had been forbidden to her, to them — and instead she had left her alone and with no answers.

Again.

The truth was, if she had to be honest with herself, that she was scared as hell.

Since their first unconventional family reunion, from which now years had passed, the time she and Yelena had spent together had been very limited. In the rare talks they had over the phone while she was still on the run, both of them tried to keep the conversation light-hearted and pleasant, always dancing around more serious tones and dodging heavier topics.

They had even crossed paths a few times, sharing a ride or a motel room when Yelena, going after some widows to free, happened to be in her same area. But while they were fully aware of the demons they both carried within themselves, neither of them knew the proper way to broach the subject. Even in the few emotional moments they had shared — mostly after a nightmare or a bad flashback — they were always tiptoeing around each other, offering only as many comforting words and gestures as they deemed necessary, both blocked by the fear of overstepping and not doing enough at the same time.

After Natasha's return, they had started to try and be more open with each other, gradually taking small steps trying to rebuild that relationship they had repeatedly been denied.

But so far, she had never seen the blonde in such a distressed state, and she was terrified to do the wrong thing and mess everything up.

Natasha shook her head and rapidly toweled her hair, deciding that for now it would have to do. It was not that cold in the other room, she could manage.

She reached for the duffel bag at her feet and started rummaging through her stuff, pulling out a pair of shorts and the first loose-fitting t-shirt she found.

She remembered there had been one time — not long before she had met with Steve to finally come up with a plan and break out the others from the Raft — where Yelena had surprised her in yet another cabin in the midst of nowhere, this one provided with a working generator, that Mason had been so kind to find her.

Yelena had caught her in one of her bad days.

She had been alone for weeks by then, and the night before had happened to be one of those where her thoughts wandered dangerously on their own, spiraling out of her control.

Thought after thought, they had kept creeping and crawling into her till morning, poisoning her mind and draining her body.

With nobody else around, she had grown used in letting these feelings loose, allowing them to completely overwhelm her, soaking into them until they eventually would subside on their own.

Yelena had broken in mid-morning, not giving her the time necessary to realize what was going on and pull herself together. It didn't take her long to look past Natasha's startled facade and notice her unusually reddened eyes and the smeared wet streaks along her cheeks.

With slight confusion mixed up with barely concealed concern, she had just let out a simple but hesitant You okay?, and Natasha almost cringed remembering how she had so easily crumbled at that, feeling unable to even keep her eyes open and dreading the moment she would've had to explain herself.

Yelena hadn't said anything else though, just closing the door and heading toward her, ignoring the way Natasha wouldn't meet her gaze again.

She had simply sat down beside her on the floor — as close as she could without them touching — and waited, their backs resting against the wall.

When it had been clear that the blonde wasn't going to leave, everything had just overcome her again, and Natasha remembered feeling so exhausted that, eventually, tears had silently resumed escaping her eyes on their own, without her permission.

She was just so tired.

At some point, everything around her had become muffled and remote, but she remembered there was also a sense of safety enveloping her, a feeling of understanding, that she had just found herself surrendering to it, allowing her head to tilt to the side and lean against Yelena's shoulder, her eyes drifting closed.

When she had woken up, almost ten hours later, she was tucked up in her bed, a tray with different types of foreign-looking pastries and a glass of juice placed on a chair that had been dragged to her side. She had found also a quickly scribbled note there that her sister had left, to confirm that she hadn't imagined it all.

Natasha had felt a pang of guilt upon realizing that the short time Yelena had carved to go find her, she had instead spent looking after her messed up self, but part of her had felt also relieved to not having to face the blonde after she had seen her vulnerable like no one else ever had.

She had found no better words to message the blonde than a simple thank you, hoping that the other would grasp the far deeper meaning hidden behind it.

She pushed the bag out of the way against the bathroom wall, turning toward the door.

Yelena had found a way to be there for her just in the way she needed her to be.

It was her turn now.

She took one last steadying breath and opened the door.

The window had been opened, letting the night breeze flow in along with the sleeping city's sounds, the moonlight and the night lights now filtering through more freely.

Yelena was laying on the bed, hands clasped and resting on her stomach, staring at the ceiling. She didn't give any sign of acknowledgement, but Natasha knew it was impossible she hadn't heard her.

Taking a careful step forward, she pulled the door half-closed behind her and waited. Her eyes were searching intently for any kind of sign, but the blonde remained perfectly still, almost unsettlingly so.

She was about to take another step, but stopped right away when Yelena's hands suddenly tightening their hold against her shirt.

She saw the blonde closing her eyes, before one of her arms slid down on the mattress.

Her fingers lightly patted the empty space at her side.

Natasha let out an imperceptible sigh of relief, slowly starting to cover the distance separating them and simultaneously keeping a close eye on Yelena's movements, in case she changed her mind.

But soon she found herself standing right beside the bed, the blonde's eyes still resolutely shut.

She tried to softly call her, searching for permission in a whisper.

"...Yelena?"

The blonde's eyes snapped open and met hers for a fraction of second, before her jaw visibly clenched and she turned them to the ceiling once again, her still outstretched hand going back to grasp at the other one.

Natasha decided to take it as a sign to go ahead, and she slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress immediatly dipping under her weight.

Since Yelena didn't show any visible reaction, she went on maneuvering herself so that her back was resting against the headboard — her legs stretched out in front of her, with one going to rest over the other to take up less space — while her hands immediately started fidgeting with each other in her lap.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but everything she wanted to say seemed like the wrong thing. The words were pressing to get out, but they kept getting stuck in her throat, tasting bitter on her tongue.

She desperately wanted to say something comforting, to make Yelena know that she was there, and that she could confide her whatever was in her mind, whenever she felt ready.

She wanted her sister to feel safe with her. Because she felt safe when Yelena was around. But she didn't know how to tell her that.

"Stop doing that."

Natasha almost jumped off the bed, startled by the sudden comment coming from her side. Yelena had spoken in a low voice, but it had resonated loudly in the silence filling the place.

She glanced down at her questioningly, trying to hide her own distress. The blonde just kept staring at the ceiling.

"With your leg. You're making everything tremble. It's like a earthquake."

Turning her head, she noticed that one of her feet had started bouncing lightly from side to side in an involuntary motion.

She immediately stilled it and pulled her legs toward herself to sit cross-legged, clearing her voice.

"Sorry."

At least Yelena was speaking to her. It was a start.

She went back staring at her hands, trying to come up with something to encourage the blonde to open up, or at least to let her know what she needed from her in that very moment.

But Yelena beat her to it again.

"Can you—"

The words were spoken even more quietly than before, and Natasha had to look down at her again to make sure she hadn't imagined hearing it.

Her voice had lost the ironic touch from before, now replaced by a very uncharacteristic uncertainty that immediately caught the redhead attention.

She pulled herself up a bit trying to wordlessly transmit Yelena that she was listening to her, and that whatever it was she wanted to ask, it was ok to talk with her about it.

"Just..."

The blonde took a moment to breathe in and out, then she briefly glanced to the side at Natasha's knees, where her legs were still crossed and resting at her head level.

"Speak to me?"

The redhead was a little taken aback by the vaguely abrupt request, but she perked up a bit nonetheless at the prospect of finally being able to help, somehow.

Yelena wasn't pushing her away.

She tried to search her face — it was still firmly turned toward the ceiling, but this time Natasha noticed that her neck and jaw were tense, contradicting the rhythmic rise and fall of her ribcage — looking for some more information to work on.

"What do you want to hear?"

Yelena stayed silent for a few seconds, and then shrugged slightly.

It was impossible to read what was going on inside of her, and it was painfully frustrating.

The blonde squeezed her eyes shut before responding.

"Tell me something. Anything."

Natasha nodded to herself, frowning in thought as she considered her options and what topics it would have been better to avoid.

Eventually, she settled on something simple and domestic, as if she and Yelena were just catching up on what the other had been up to since the last time they had seen each other.

She could only hope it was the right choice.

"I don't remember if I told you, but last week I went to the Barton farm. Me and Clint had agreed that I would stop by to pick him up and give him a ride for our mission, so I could also see Laura and the kids."

She risked a glance in the blonde's direction.

"They asked me about you, by the way. You really made a great first impression on them. They would like to meet you again, sometime, if you'll ever feel like it."

Yelena had met Clint's family a few months before, after Steve had come back with Natasha and she had asked her sister to be with her when she would finally go and see them again, the first time in more than five years.

Clint had to assure Yelena that he didn't resent her for what had happened in New York, that he would talk with his wife and that he was sure she would understand, too.

Eventually, Yelena had agreed to go with them, though it was more because she didn't feel ready to leave Natasha's side again after only a few days that she had had her back.

Natasha could tell that Yelena was feeling extreme unease especially about meeting Clint's children, but she had made a very good job at disguising it, and they had actually warmed up to her pretty soon.

She had never felt happier than when she could finally introduce Yelena to her other family, but she also understood that the blonde needed time.

"Laura wants to remind you that their door is always open for you, you know?"

The blonde's eyes had fluttered open at some point as she listened silently, and she had such a distant look in them that Natasha was a little surprised to see her suddenly frowning in concentration — confusion? — at that last mention.

She feared she'd gone too far bringing that up, so she quickly went on changing subject.

"Anyway, me and Clint left and met up with Maria to discuss the details of what exactly SHIELD had requested us for. We had been told that it was a simple in-and-out kind of thing. One distracts, the other retrieves the information. We didn't believe for a second it could be as easy as that, of course."

She tried to make a dramatic pause, and when Yelena locked eyes with her — a slightly questioning look on her face — she felt the tiniest sense of victory start blossoming within her.

She held her gaze for a few moments, then broke into a small grin.

"Turns out, besides a few more agents than anticipated that got in our way, it was indeed that easy."

Yelena looked away, letting out a small huff that encouraged Natasha to keep going.

"I mean, sure, it was my first official mission after I got back, but, come on."

It was said in a light tone, meant to be a joke, but it did not go unnoticed how Yelena swallowed hard at that.

She fell silent for a few seconds, not sure what to say next.

The silence was not entirely uncomfortable, regularly interrupted by the sounds of cars passing by in the streets below them.

But it was prolonging for too long now, and Natasha was worried that Yelena would get too caught up in her own thoughts.

Eventually, she couldn't take it anymore.

"Yelena, what's going on?"

She had tried to whisper it as softly as possible — a direct approach was a huge risk, but she needed to know.

She got no answer, though, the blonde just keeping to stare blankly ahead, almost not even blinking.

"I...I can't help you, if I don't know—"

Yelena suddenly squeezed her eyes shut, weakly shaking her head, and a new doubt crept into Natasha's mind.

She really didn't want to suggest that, but she felt like she had to.

"Would you— would you prefer to be alone?"

To her surprise, the blonde's eyes shot open and immediately found hers, frowning deeply.

"That's— no."

Natasha saw her expression briefly morph into one of slight panic, and she could've sworn that she had heard her breathing momentarily picking up.

"Don't leave."

She tried to mask the relieved sigh that escaped her, feeling that lingering knot in her stomach finally loosening a little.

"Ok."

Seeing that Yelena kept staring at her insistently, she tried to offer her — and herself — further reassurance, firmly looking into her eyes to get her point across.

"I'll stay."

The blonde's posture then seemed to slightly relax — her body sinking a bit more into the mattress — before she fully turned to lay on her side, properly facing Natasha.

Her legs were bent and drawn together, and her arms immediately wrapped tightly around her own middle, as if shielding herself.

She seemed to be seeking for some sort of protection, while — maybe unconsciously — still leaning toward the redhead, who was becoming more and more confused by the minute.

Nevertheless, she kept holding her gaze, fighting the urge to turn away and hide from the intensity of the blonde's stare.

She noted how the other's eyes were becoming increasingly misty, and eventually Yelena was the first to break eye contact, lowering her gaze in the general direction of Natasha's body, without actually seeing it.

"I don't know if you're here."

It was murmured as if she was talking to herself, but Natasha heard it loud and clear, and, to some extent, it confirmed her suspicion.

She was well aware that both her and Yelena had recurring nightmares, and that some times it was harder to snap back to reality than others.

She was also aware that occasionally Yelena found it even harder, given the shorter time she had spent free and the overall different experiences they had endured.

She had wondered many times if the mind control might have had some long-term effects, somewhat making things even worse for her sister, but Yelena had always shied away from the argument, and she hadn't wanted to push her too much.

Then, after Thanos, and the snap, and her own death, it had kind of faded into the background of her mind.

She had even thought that maybe, during the months she had stayed dead, something might have gotten better, or that it had become easier to deal with, since she had yet to see any sign of distress from the blonde. She had found no occasion to ask.

And now she was starting to regret it.

She was about to try and figure out something to say, but Yelena swallowed and continued.

"I...when I went on missions, sometimes I would have no memories of them afterwards. Or I would be left with...wrong memories. I think it depended on the prototype of the serum they were using. Or the amount."

Natasha didn't know this.

How could she? She had never bothered to ask.

Yelena didn't want to talk about it, but neither did she with her own emotional baggage when Clint had first brought her to SHIELD, and god knows how many people they had sent to talk to her, before eventually she had slowly started to stop closing herself off.

She should have been there more for her, she should have insisted, she should have seen, she—

"Sometimes I would see things. That weren't there."

While saying that, Yelena briefly glanced up at her face, a meaningful look that almost made Natasha stop breathing.

"And I—"

She stopped to clench her jaw, her eyebrows drawing together as a single tear escaped her eye, slipping over the bridge of her nose and sliding down her opposite cheek.

She turned her head to wipe it on the pillow, her other eye being temporarily hidden in the folds of the bedsheets, and Natasha couldn't help but wonder herself if she had missed any other tear since the blonde had started talking.

"Right now, I— I don't know..."

She shut her eyes, letting out a resigned sigh that the redhead felt reverberating down her own soul, realization and guilt stinging deep into her.

"I just don't know."

Yelena fell silent with her eyes still closed and her arms tightening around herself, gripping at her own shirt.

Natasha was frozen, unable to move a muscle, but she pushed throught it until she found her voice again.

"I'm sorry."

It had come out strained, the same way Yelena's eyelids fluttered open once again to look at her. She cleared her voice before resuming.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you more. I should've known."

Yelena immediately shook her head with a new determination, firmly locking eyes with her.

"No, no, it's okay, you let me choose my own pace. I appreciated that. I— I wasn't ready."

She loosened her grip around herself.

"And you couldn't have known."

Natasha swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat, looking away — why was she the one being consoled here? Couldn't she simply be there for Yelena too, without making things about herself? — her attention back to her own fingers.

"I...I don't know what to do. How to help."

A beat passed, then, unexpectedly, she felt Yelena shifting and scooting a little closer to her.

"You're already doing that, I think. Being here, talking to me. It helps."

She glanced down to the blonde, taking in the sincerity behind her gaze.

Yelena managed to crack a faint smile, but it felt fake, made to reassure her.

She hesitated for a moment.

"How...how are you feeling? Right now?"

Yelena took some time to think it over, staring blankly ahead and frowning in concentration.

"Better. My memories are still a mess though."

She gave Natasha a brief once-over.

"And...I can't shake off this feeling that it's not really you. I can't be sure, I'm— I'm sorry."

It was Natasha's turn to softly shake her head, even though inside of her everything was twisting painfully.

"Don't be. It's okay."

She allowed the silence to fall over them again for a few seconds, then she made up her mind and straightened, slightly pulling herself up and turning her body toward Yelena, so that she was sitting cross-legged in front of her.

The blonde simply eyed her curiously, so she went on and carefully brought one of her arms up in front of her, opening her hand and holding it out for Yelena to touch — whenever she would feel ready.

She hoped it wasn't too much.

Yelena was staring at her fingers suspiciously, but there was also a longing behind her eyes that she was somehow trying to fight off, and Natasha realized that maybe, maybe, she didn't know what to do either.

The blonde glanced up at her, studying her face for a few seconds, then turned her attention back on the hand in front of her with new resolve.

She slowly started to raise her own arm, ignoring the way her breath momentarily hitched and was now coming out more shallow. Natasha noticed though, frowning and keeping a close watch on her movements.

As the other's hand draw closer, now only mere inches from hers, she saw it slightly tremble, but Yelena was paying no attention to it.

"Wait—"

She started to withdraw her own hand, but Yelena's suddenly surged forward and held onto it tightly.

Now there wasn't much more she could do, except firmly return the grip, squeezing lightly, and wait.

She watched with growing apprehension as Yelena's eyes became instantly more unfocused, her breathing ragged and quickening, while the grasp on Natasha's hand tightened.

The redhead brought up her other arm to cover both sides of Yelena's hand with her owns, effectively sandwiching it, hoping this would ground her somehow.

"Yelena—"

The blonde scrambled to sit up, shuffling backwards until her back was against the headboard. She clenched the bedsheets with her free hand, her eyes wandering hastily around the room.

Natasha followed her movements, feeling an unusual wave of panic starting to rise within her too, but she needed to stay rational.

"Hey, hey, look at me—"

She tried to catch her gaze, tried to make her listen and focus on her voice, or her touch, or anything.

But Yelena couldn't hear her anymore.

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