Chapter Text
*screeching static*
*screeching static*
*screeching static*
*no signal*
The National Weather Service has issued tornado watch number 270, which is in effect until 2 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time. A severe thunderstorm was located and is moving west at 60 miles per hour. Significant wind damage is expected. The storm is sure to also cause widespread power outages. This watch includes the following counties in Ohio: Mercer, Montgomery, Preble, Hamilton, Shelby and Warren.
For your protection, immediately move into an interior room on the lowest floor of your home or a nearby sturdy building. Avoid windows at all costs.
Stay tuned to NOAA Weather Radio and television outlets for the latest information.
*no signal*
The dinner table was suddenly drenched in silence. Forks hovered in the air, pasta sliding off onto the still steaming plates of food.
It took one look out the window and precisely seven seconds, for Alexei to grab Yelena and for Melina to lace her fingers with Natasha’s.
“What’s going on, mom?”
“Nothing you should be worried about. Follow your dad and your sister, now, hurry.”
Melina watched them disappear down the basement stairs, Yelena’s tears already streaming down her face, illuminated by the hallway light just before it went out. She heard her cry out then, heard Alexei shush her, heard his heavy steps and the wind slamming against the house. Storms were not unprecedented here, yet Melina had a nasty feeling in her gut about this one. Still, she swallowed, stumbling back inside the kitchen and rummaging for candles. Candles and a gun, just in case.
She managed a quick glimpse down their street, not a single light or neighbor in sight. Rogue leaves swirled and tree branches bent, caught in a deadly dance with the vicious bashing winds.
“Mommy?”
“She’ll be right down, Lena, stay put.”
“I want my mommy.”
Yelena’s muffled protests struck a chord with Melina, and deep inside her chest, her heartbeat hastened. She let go of the door handle she’d been unknowingly gripping so tight, finally making her way down the metal stairs and into the darkness of the basement.
“Mommy?” Yelena’s hands came out of nowhere, tiny and trembling as they weaved around her thigh.
“It’s all good, monkey. Nothing to be afraid of.”
“Up.”
It took some shuffling, to prop Yelena safely on her hip and hand the candles to Alexei. An odd sense of calm flooded her senses then, when his hand brushed hers and pulled the gun out the back pocket of her jeans, that small exchange more reassuring than anything she’d ever felt before.
“We won’t need that, would we?”
Natasha.
Sitting in the corner, with her knees pulled to her chest. manic, like a caged bird, though only bleeding out of her eyes
“No.” silence “I promise.”
An outstretched arm.
Seven jittery heartbeats.
Fingers laced together.
“Can I sit with you?”
Relief.
Natasha’s hair had fallen out of her braid. It seeped over Melina’s shoulder now, thick and soft and glowing in the candlelight. The same memory bounced between them like a searing coal; the same damp walls and metal rods, the same gushing wounds and broken ribs, the same voice, hoarse and raspy, pleading for forgiveness. Two widows, alone in solitary, together in their solidarity.
With every hellish gust of wind Melina cursed the Red Room. For her broken redhead spider, clinging desperately to her arm. For her tiny ray of hope, dozing off onto her lap. For herself, banging harsh against the inside of her chest, helpless in the hands of an unspeakable monster.
Alexei didn’t know, she never wanted him to know. But he drew her in anyway, careful, gentle, allowing her to settle comfortably. It took every last remnant of her sanity to keep still while he whispered soothing nonsense in her ear, his warm breath mercilessly tickling her skin.
That’s when the siren erupted.
no, no, no
Yelena’s cries were heart-wrenching, her tiny frame shuddering with indescribable fear. She was feral, tugging at Melina’s shirt and slamming violently against her legs as the monotonous wail flooded the basement. Alexei struggled to peel her off, pressing her to his chest instead and stroking her back, praying he would never ever have to see this tiny human in such agonizing distress again.
Natasha, on the other hand, was frozen in her place. Her lashes trembled, moan after moan tearing through her lips. But she never moved.
Or breathed.
It took Melina way too long to notice. Her gentle pats hastily turned to desperate shaking, praying, pleading, for the girl to blink and god, please god breathe in.
Her heart shattered, over and over, as the siren rose and fell; as she watched Alexei and Yelena and Natasha, realizing there was nothing but those three that mattered more. Visions flashed before her own eyes, of a warzone and an evil man, of a chain and whips and loaded guns. All choked-up herself, she locked eyes with her husband, each of them cradling a helpless child.
make it stop
i can’t
Three-hundred and fifteen seconds in hell. That’s how much it cost to know that she was capable of love.