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Three things wake Natasha up simultaneously: the sound of thunder, the feeling of a tiny finger jabbing her side, and a breath that smells like toothpaste and chocolate chip cookies hot on her face.
“Natasha,” a small voice whispers — the owner of the tiny finger and sugary breath, no doubt.
Her suspicions are confirmed when she cracks her eyes open, coming face-to-face with Yelena, bedhead making her hair stick up like one of her Trollz dolls. The image would be comical, really, if not for her eyes — wide and watery.
“What is it?” Natasha asks, propping herself against her pillow.
“It’s scary outside,” Yelena whines, thumb halfway in her mouth. She’d been doing better breaking the habit, but the rain — heavy against the window — had washed away all the progress for the night. Just like the “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” Natasha thought. Ironic.
“Can I sleep with you?” Yelena asks, eyes glistening with hope and fear.
Natasha bites her lip, a million thoughts swirling in her brain. This was not an uncommon request from Yelena. Her little sister woke her up on average once a week, sometimes with a nightmare, sometimes with the fear of monsters under her bed, sometimes simply because she was bored and wanted a middle-of-the-night playmate.
Natasha didn’t mind, indulging her every time despite the fact (maybe even because of the fact) she knew it would never fly in the Red Room. And while she insisted she didn’t mind, after the fifth time finding them curled up together while waking them up for school, Melina had gently told Yelena that Natasha deserved her space and privacy and that she needed to try her best to stay in her own bed.
She’s torn. On one hand, she wants to comfort Yelena, but on the other hand, she doesn’t want to upset Melina. It was strange, this feeling. She isn’t scared Melina will be angry, exactly — she had never raised her hand toward them, never even raised her voice, really, except for the time Yelena ran into the street and narrowly missed getting hit by a kid on a bicycle — but she worries she might be disappointed. That thought was even more frightening somehow.
“I…” Natasha starts.
The small moment of hesitation is enough to make Yelena’s face screw up in betrayal. It’s a move Melina would deem “drama queen behavior” — an American phrase she learned from a glittery t-shirt they saw at the mall once.
“If you don’t let me, I’ll tell mom you threw up at school that one time and didn’t tell her,” Yelena says, voice equal parts threat and desperation.
And it’s really not fair. The only reason Natasha didn’t tell her — and sternly told Yelena not to blab as well — is because it was clearly just the school’s weird, greasy lasagna and not the stomach flu and she didn’t want Melina to fuss over her and put her field trip to the science museum the next day in jeopardy.
Natasha’s compassion fades for a moment, her sisterly instinct to tattle taking over.
“If you do, I’ll tell her that you snuck a second dessert after you brushed your teeth,” she shoots back. She doesn’t mean it — would protect Yelena from everything, even something as harmless as a light scolding — but she needs the leverage blackmail provides.
Yelena gasps, throwing her hand over her mouth. “No I didn’t,” she lies passionately, the words muffled under her palm.
The two engage in a quick staredown until another boom of thunder shakes the house, Yelena’s hands moving from her mouth to cover her eyes instead. She brings her knees to her chest, curling up in a small ball.
It’s too much for Natasha to bear, and she grabs the blanket, preparing to invite Yelena underneath it and accept whatever consequence may be in store.
Except before she can do so, the nightlight in the corner of the room clicks off, shrouding the room in complete darkness. Despite her covered eyes, Yelena can sense this, her body frozen in fear.
“What happened?” Yelena squeaks. “Where’d the light go?”
“The power must have gone out,” Natasha rationalizes.
A flash of lightning illuminates Yelena’s small, trembling frame, and Natasha can see her forehead crease in an anxious line.
Natasha prepares for Yelena to throw herself into arms, but she does the opposite, slipping out of the bed and beginning to scurry toward the door, deciding this is too big an obstacle for even her big sister to surmount.
“Where are you going?” Natasha whispers, scrambling to follow her.
“To get mommy and daddy,” Yelena replies at full volume, no such discretion for the still-sleeping members of the household.
“Yelena, no,” Natasha hisses, dodging stray toys left on their floor. She herself is having trouble navigating the terrain, and she’s careful — it’ll be a miracle if Yelena makes it to her destination without splitting open her lip, knocking her two front teeth out.
“Yelena, stop,” she tries again.
She knows Alexei has to get up early for work, the smell of coffee waking her up most days. And she knows Melina is a light sleeper — most nights when she wakes up to get a glass of water, she finds her in the living room, sitting on the couch with a book and mug of tea. The last thing she wants is for Yelena to ruin their sleep because she couldn’t do her sisterly duty of looking out for her.
“Please,” Natasha pleads one last time, but it’s to no avail. Before Natasha can catch her, Yelena has already sprinted through the door and is jumping onto Alexei’s chest. He awakens with an oof.
“Well, this is a strange alarm clock,” Alexei muses, voice thick with sleep. The minute he sits up straight, Yelena bounds into his arms, latching onto his side like a monkey.
Melina stirs next to him, rubbing her eyes and propping herself up against the headboard.
“What’s going on?” she asks, gaze shifting between Yelena and Natasha, who's still standing in the doorway.
“The storm,” Yelena says, bottom lip trembling. Her cheek is plastered to Alexei’s neck as she debriefs the situation to Melina. “Made the light go bye-bye.”
“That’s no good, is it?” Alexei asks, patting her back and moving to get up. “I’ll go to the garage, get some flashlights and candles.”
“No,” Yelena says, clutching onto his shirt and trying to pull him back onto the bed. “Daddy stay.”
“It’s all right, little one,” Melina says, gently attempting to pry her iron grip from Alexei’s sleeve. “Daddy will be right back. You stay and wait here with mama.”
Yelena considers this for a moment before relenting, allowing herself to be switched to Melina’s arms so Alexei can stand and head toward the door.
“Back in a jiffy,” Alexei promises, squeezing Natasha’s shoulder as he makes his way into the hall.
Natasha stands in the entryway, fingers fidgeting. Her mission is over — Yelena is sufficiently calm — and she’s not quite sure what to do now. She supposes she could go back to her room, but part of her doesn’t want to leave her little sister. Wants to stick around and make sure she’s okay.
And as she sees Melina hold Yelena tight, whispering soothing words into her ear, she feels a small twinge in her heart. The ache of something she doesn’t quite understand but must be obvious on her face somehow.
“Natasha, would you like to come lie down with us?” Melina asks softly.
Natasha shakes her head, though she can’t make herself walk away. “That’s okay.”
“Are you sure? There’s room,” Melina says, scooting herself and Yelena — now clinging to her like a magnet — over a few inches and patting the sliver of empty space on the bed.
Natasha chews the inside of her cheek, contemplating. She can’t say no because that would be a lie — she does want to feel the warmth of being snuggled under the blankets, the warmth of cuddling next to Melina. She just knows she shouldn’t.
“I’m not scared,” she says instead.
“No, but I think your dad is,” Melina replies, a loud whisper. The revelation makes Yelena pop her head up from where it’s been buried in Melina’s side.
“Really?” Yelena asks, eyes impossibly huge from the information.
Melina looks down at her, nodding seriously. “Really.”
She switches her gaze back to Natasha, eyes saying something more important than her mouth — a sincere invitation disguised as a tiny lie to make her more comfortable. “I think he’d feel much better if both his brave girls were nearby,” Melina says, peeling back the blanket, motioning Natasha to join them.
“Okay,” Natasha relents, taking a step toward her before she can change her mind. She stiffly crawls into the bed, the whole idea making her feel a bit childish. She was taught that was the worst thing you could be — small and weak and needing protection.
But when Melina wraps her arm around her, pulls her close, it doesn’t feel like the worst thing at all. Far from it. Maybe even one of the best.
She’s surprised at how easy it is to melt into her hug. How safe everything seems wrapped in someone else’s embrace.
The boom of thunder — the loudest yet — causes Yelena to wince, dive her head underneath the covers and clutch onto Melina tighter. The volume can’t help but surprise Natasha, too, and she feels herself flinch ever so slightly. Melina wordlessly kisses her temple.
“It’s right outside, mama,” Yelena sobs.
“It seems close, doesn’t it?” Melina nods. “But the actual storm is far away. Do you remember your numbers, Yelena?”
“Yes,” Yelena peeks her head out from the covers, the blanket now pulled tightly under her chin. Her face, though slightly skeptical, is tinged with pride. “All the way to 30. Everyone else in my class can only go to 10.”
“That’s because you’re my bright girl,” Melina praises, tapping her on the nose. “Believe it or not, we can actually figure out exactly how far away the storm is. Next time you see lightning, start counting, and then once you hear thunder, stop, okay?”
“Okay,” Yelena says, taking a deep breath. A moment later, a flash of lightning pierces through the sky, and she begins apprehensively prattling off numbers until she hears the clap of thunder.
“That was 20,” she announces, shooting Melina a nervous look. “Does that mean it’ll be here in 20 seconds?”
“No, no,” Melina laughs lightly. “Patience, little one — we’re not through yet. Now we have to divide that number by five.”
Yelena frowns, a look of intense concentration overtaking her face. “But...I didn’t learn that yet.”
“Your big sister did. Right, Natasha?” Melina turns to her. “Do you remember 20 divided by five?”
“Four,” Natasha nods confidently. She and Melina had done flashcards for hours — the answer is second nature.
“Very good,” Melina says, giving her arm an encouraging squeeze. “So that means the storm is four miles away.”
“How far is that?” Yelena asks, face still scrunched in confusion.
“Far,” Melina assures her. “Farther than the grocery store and swimming pool, even.”
“That is far,” Yelena agrees seriously. The swimming pool was a good example, Natasha thinks — she suspects Yelena might have broken a record for the number of times one could ask “are we there yet?” on a 10-minute car ride this summer.
“Exactly. Nothing to be afraid of,” Melina says just as Alexei returns with a small box of supplies.
“I found two flashlights and a couple of candles,” he says, setting the box on the dresser and retrieving the supplies. He lights a match before igniting the candle wicks, pushing the assortment to the back of the dresser to keep them firmly out of Yelena’s reach.
“Are we having a slumber party?” he asks, testing the flashlights and retaking his spot on the bed.
Yelena pulls away from Melina, putting a hand on Alexei’s arm.
“Only so you won’t be scared, daddy,” she says earnestly.
Alexei briefly glances at Melina, mouth curved into a smile, before dropping his face to look at Yelena again.
“Oh, good,” he says, wiping at his brow, playing up his sense of relief. “I was quaking in my boots.” He puts his hands on Yelena’s shoulders, gently shaking her as she giggles. “But I feel much better knowing you two are here.”
After a few moments, he flops them both so they’re lying down. Natasha can hear Yelena catch her breath from the laughter, see her face from the faint light of the moon, expression falling slightly now that the distraction is gone.
A rumble of thunder rolls through the sky, and Yelena slides down, burrowing herself further under the blankets.
“Do I have to go to sleep?” she asks quietly.
“Sleep?” Alexei scoffs. “Who said anything about sleep? No, no — we can’t miss prime puppet show conditions, can we Natasha?”
“Um...no?” Natasha asks, the question catching her off guard.
“Bah,” Alexei shakes his head, dissatisfied. “Where is the conviction? My love, please help me instill the importance of this sacred custom to our children,” he says, flashing a pointed look at Melina.
“Yes,” she agrees, mock graveness. “An ancient art form indeed. Crucial to practice.”
Yelena’s face twists in confusion. “But...we don’t have any puppets.”
“Ah, little one,” Alexei shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He clicks the flashlight on, pointing it toward the ceiling. “Look up.”
Yelena gasps, and Natasha slowly lifts her own gaze. She has to admit, it’s rather impressive — there’s a shadow on the ceiling that looks miraculously like a bear.
Natasha leans up, craning her head to look at Alexei, trying to figure out his secret.
“How’d you do that?” she can’t help but ask.
Alexei smiles at her and holds up his hands, his fingers contorted into a shape. It doesn’t look like much in person, but the shadow on the ceiling is uncanny. It’s a magic trick, a neat disguise, not quite real but beautiful nonetheless. Like this whole mission. This whole family.
“Teach me, daddy! Teach me!” Yelena bounces.
“Well, we can’t have two bears, can we?” he asks. “What animal do you want to be?”
“Hmm,” Yelena ponders, tapping a finger on her chin, deep in thought.
“You could be a jellyfish,” Alexei prompts, wiggling his fingers and tickling Yelena’s neck, only stopping to put his hands on top of one another, moving his thumbs. “What’s this?”
“Turtle?” Yelena guesses excitedly.
“Turtle,” Alexei confirms with a smile. He moves his hands to make a snout, snorting. “You could be a pig,” he offers.
“Fitting,” Melina scoffs. “Considering the mess you two leave everywhere.”
“But pigs are clean animals, aren’t they?” Natasha asks reflexively, blushing when Alexei and Melina both turn their heads to look at her. “Sorry,” she apologizes, cowering down slightly, suddenly worried Melina might not take too kindly to being corrected by a fourth-grader. “I just...I thought I remembered that from my class’ animal unit. But I could be wrong.”
“No, you’re absolutely right,” Melina agrees, something that looks like pride shining in her eyes. “They’re some of the cleanest animals around. Most intelligent, too.”
“So really you mean to say that we are tidy and brilliant,” Alexei smirks at Melina, reaching over Yelena to give her a playful nudge.
Melina rolls her eyes, but her mouth curves into a smile. “Brilliant, yes. Tidy — I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I know! I know now!” Yelena says, arms raised in victory. “I want to be a dog! Because they’re fluffy!”
“And playful and fearless,” Melina adds, lightly poking her in the stomach. “Just like you.”
“That one’s easy,” Alexei says, helping Yelena fold her hands just right until there’s a puppy on the ceiling. Yelena barks, content, and Alexei shifts his gaze toward Natasha.
“What’s your choice?” he asks. “You can be anything you want. Anything at all.”
Anything she wants. She wants to be Natasha, sister of Yelena. She wants to be Natasha, daughter of Alexei and Melina. She wants to be Natasha, part of this family, forever.
But she knows that’s not what he’s asking. So instead, she flashes him a bashful peace sign. “Rabbit?” she asks, bunny ears appearing next to Yelena’s dog.
“Aha!” Alexei laughs. “That’s my clever Natka!”
“Independent and curious,” Melina nods at her. “Very appropriate.”
Natasha feels her cheeks grow red, that warmth — unfamiliar but nice — washing over her again.
“And what about you?” Alexei asks Melina.
“Mm,” she muses for a moment. “Surprise me.”
Alexei smiles, the answer coming a little too fast, a little too passionately, for him not to have been thinking about it.
“You, my love, are a fox,” he says. “Swift and sharp.”
Natasha can’t be sure — even with the flashlight, it’s still pretty dark — but she thinks she can see Melina’s cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink, too.
“Foxes are good parents,” Natasha says quietly, finding a newfound safety and confidence in that wave of warmth filling her chest. “We learned that in class, too.”
“I have such smart girls,” Melina’s mouth says, but the fingers through her hair say thank you. Say I love you, too.
She tilts her face to look at Alexei again — so he can’t miss the message behind what she’s saying. “So are bears.”
“Well,” Alexei clears his throat, puffing out his chest. “Papa bear has pretty great bear cubs.”
“Storytime?” Yelena’s eager voice cuts through the moment.
“Indeed. I’ll start us off,” Alexei lowers his voice, getting into character. “Once upon a time, there was a big, burly bear in the forest. He was just eating his honey—”
“Like Pooh!” Yelena exclaims.
“Exactly!” Alexei agrees. “He was eating his honey when he came across a little dog, who was…” he holds his hand to Yelena, who’s practically bursting to chime in.
“Eating honey, too!” she finishes.
“Wonderful,” Alexei claps his hands together. “Maybe they were having a little tea party, hmm?”
“Yeah!”
“So the bear and the dog were having a tea party when all of the sudden a rabbit hopped over and asked…” he nods toward Natasha.
She considers for a second before settling on: “Got any jam?”
“Oh, rabbit!” Alexei says, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m so sorry — we are all out of jam. But our friend fox is bringing some over soon. Fox will be here right away…”
“But unfortunately, Fox is currently stuck in traffic,” Melina adds. “Lots of bad drivers on those forest roads.”
Their laughter mixes in the air — their unique symphony. Natasha giggles so much her stomach aches. Twists in a way that’s not from fear or nausea or hunger but from feeling so full, so happy, so complete.
She knows that she will eventually have to find her way back into the shadows, become Dreykov’s puppet again, but just for tonight, they are harmless shadow puppets — nothing more, nothing less — and it’s everything.
The story gets progressively sillier, and eventually, Yelena’s eyelids start to get progressively heavier until Natasha can hear the telltale sounds of her faint snore. The three of them stop the story after that, the room engulfed in silence, but it’s not bad. It feels nice. Safe. Infinite.
After a while, a faint click can be heard. The fridge starts humming again, and Natasha can see a small light turn on through the bottom crack of the door.
“Power’s back on,” Alexei observes.
“And the rain has nearly stopped,” Melina adds. The droplets that pounded the windows earlier have lightened to nothing more than a sprinkle.
“I can carry her back,” Alexei offers, beginning to pick up Yelena.
“Can we stay?” Natasha finds herself blurting before she can think about the words. “Just for tonight,” she adds meekly.
Not forever. Just tonight. Maybe that’s enough.
“Of course you may,” Melina says, fingernails soft on her scalp.
“My whole family together,” Alexei says, settling back against his pillow. “Just how it should be.”
Together, Natasha thinks. She likes the sound of that.
Alone, she feels like the nightlight: small and powerless. But together? She thinks maybe — just maybe — they can weather any storm at all.