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Beesh
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Beesh
The sound of the punching bag's pummeling reverberated throughout the empty gym in highly meticulous intervals.
Beesh
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Beesh
“You working out your quarrel with that punching bag, Agent Belova?”
The rich undertones of Director Fury’s voice were calm, in the empty room. He paused, in the doorway, waiting for the blonde to speak.
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“It is early, for an old man like you, Mr. Director Fury,” Yelena said, in even breaths. “I am frankly surprised to see you.”
Nick Fury glanced at the clock on the Avenger’s gym wall.
04:47
“Indeed. Which is an obvious reason why I am annoyed to be here.”
Beesh
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He walked over to the first aid area, humming as he searched for things, with a clear purpose. Yelena kept pummeling the bag as the Director started an Epson salt/ Hibaclens soak and ran warm tap water into a basin. When he finished, he turned the water off, and walked over to the hanging bag.
Yelena continued her punches, not looking up. “Stop staring,” Yelena growled, as she continued her relentless strikes. “It is creepy.”
“I ask again, Agent Belova,” Nick looked back and forth between his agent and the bag. “You worked out your quarrel with this bag yet?”
“I have no quarrel with the bag, Director.”
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“Hmm,” He murmured. “Makes me think of the saying...'an ant has no quarrel with the underside of a boot',” he mused, as he tugged on her elbow. “But in this instance, I’m not sure who is the ant and who is the boot.” He gently pulled her towards the sink, giving her a very rare smile of understanding. Something in his gentle expression made Yelena relent and walk with him. They exchanged no words as he calmly unwrapped the bloody bandages that ensconced her knuckles.
With care, he dumped them in the trash can, and placed her hands into the basin. Yelena’s expression flickered momentarily with a grimace, before it quickly schooled into a neutral expression. If he noticed, he said nothing, as he busied himself looking for ointment and bandages while she soaked.
“How did you know where to find me?” She asked after a moment.
“The same way I knew how to find your sister.” He said quietly.
Yelena eyebrows shot up. “What?”
Fury chuckled, as he brought his collected supplies over to Yelena, dumping them down all at once. “I wouldn’t be much of a Director If I didn’t know my people, Yelena.”
Yelena remained silent as he gently tended to her wounds. “It’s true. I know all of you a lot better than you think I do. I’m not talking just what’s in your personnel file - I’m talking what’s here,” he tapped on her head, “ but most importantly, what’s… here.” He tapped with one finger over Yelena’s heart.
Yelena cast her eyes down, looking at her hands in the soothing soak.
“Would it surprise you to know, Agent Belova, that I did this very soak with your older sister many years ago?”
Yelena looked up startled. “What?”
Fury chuckled. “For what, I suspect, is the very same reason?”
Now the veteran spy actually looked surprised. “What?” She repeated.
He pulled her hands out of the water, and gently blotted them dry. As he applied antibiotic ointment across the macerated knuckles, he continued. “Oh yes, indeed. Natasha Romanoff was an absolute force at baseline. When provoked or angered, however… watch out.”
He looked over, nodding towards the bag.
“When I walked in, that time, she had beat the stitching and the casing off the side of the bag. Stuffing was literally coming out of it.”
“Such a poser…”
They both chuckled. He began rolling kerlex over the injured hands. “Would it surprise you to know it was for the exact same reason?” He taped off the roll, with a pat.
Yelena shook out her arms, flexing her fingers. “Thanks,” she nodded, not meeting her Director’s eyes. “I doubt that…by the way.”
He walked to the expensive Stark water filtration system, shaking his head, muttering “water used to be water, in my day,” and poured two glasses. He handed one to the sweaty mess next to him, and Yelena took it gratefully and drank it quickly.
“And, you’d be wrong, actually.” Fury replied. “You and your sister have more in common than you even realize.”
He smiled.
“It was at a Stark party... not unlike the one last night, in fact,” he looked off with a faraway smile, “that a very incandescent Carol Danvers literally blazed into the ballroom causing quite a stir.”
At the mention of the name, Yelena’s face grimaced. The tension in her body was obvious.
“Drinks happened, the night became more rowdy…I think I even remember a Conga line, at one point,” he chuckled.
Yelena was sharing none of his mirth. “However, I most remember the aforementioned Captain Marvel being quite taken with one of the newest Avengers,” he looked at Yelena. “A one certain Ms. Wanda Maximoff.”
Yelena’s eyes widened, then she grimaced. “глупая сука,” she muttered, under her breath.
“I’m going out on a limb, and guessing that is not a nice word, Agent Belova.”
Yelena just scowled.
“As I recall, there were all kinds of grand gestures and whiskey shots, they finally took it to the back yard to see who could blow up more stuff- Wanda with her…”
Fury made some odd hand jive gestures, causing Yelena to chuckle, despite herself.
“…or the Captain, with her pulsar force jets.”
That statement did NOT elicit a similar chuckle.
Nick Fury refilled his glass as he offered an observation. “I do recall a certain redheaded Avenger who was not as amused by the goings-on as the rest of the crowd. She was especially un-amused,” he paused, mulling out loud if that was grammatically correct, “by the congratulatory hugs the good Captain gave Wanda, when Pepper finally broke up the fun.”
The room was silent, save for the sound of water consumption.
“So…what did my sister do?”
Nick laughed fondly. “Well, I would assume she paced in her room for hours, knowing her. Then, when I surmise she got tired of that, she ultimately came in here,” he gestured around to the gym, “and beat the hell out of that bag.” He pointed at the hanging punching bag.
He paused for a moment, reverently, as though he could see ghosts of the past.
“Then,” he continued, “she let me patch her up, a little. Not unlike you.”
Yelena grumbled.
“Then, she heard me out. I asked her, “Nat…why are you letting this bother you so much? You are the most calculated, decisive person I have ever had the opportunity to work with. If I need something to get done, you are the first Avenger I would ask.”
“What did she say?”
“What do you think she said?”
Yelena scowled. “Stop answering my question with a question. That’s so annoying.”
“She tried to tell me she had no idea what I was talking about.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head. “What was so obvious to me, and everyone around us, was that Ms. Romanoff had learned she was human, much to her surprise. That she had a real weakness for redheaded witches, it turns out. That she had the capacity to feel.”
He looked pointedly at Yelena.
“What was also obvious to me, from having known her for years, was it was affecting every aspect of her life. She was working so hard to deny this fact, it was impacting – severely – her judgment and her performance. By trying so hard to act unaffected, and denying her heart's true desire, it was screwing everything up.”
Yelena frowned, listening.
He arched his eyebrows, in response. “I’m just sayin'…by trying so hard to act “natural” …you know, unaffected? She was completely unnatural. It was throwing off the entire team’s vibe. A few of the Avengers got injured, in fact, on a simple recon mission.”
“Huh,” Yelena mused.
“Not to mention, it was eating at her soul. Plus I think it shocked her to learn she had one…” He looked at Yelena, pointedly. “You know...a soul.”
Yelena rolled her eyes. “I followed what you meant, Mr. Director Fury.” She huffed.
“So the conclusion was, I told her to get off her ass. Stop beating up a stupid bag, and herself. Maybe recognize the wake up call that happened to her the previous evening, and allow herself to realize she deserved a little happiness.”
The room was silent.
Finally, Fury looked at Yelena meaningfully. “I heard there was one hell of a target practice show, last night.”
“I don’t know where you heard that.”
“Around,” Fury answered. “Something to the effect of the current Hawkeye put on quite a sharpshooting show last night, and might’ve cut into Barton’s legacy.”
“Barton,” Yelena huffed. “That’s like saying you’re the fastest sloth.”
Fury looked at her meaningfully.
“Fine.” Yelena relented. “Kate Barton did well. She hit 20 out of 20 bullseyes.”
“Mmm-hmm. And how many did her challenger hit?”
“17 out of 20. But shooting a fireball... out of your hand .." Yelena made a disgruntled noise. "It is far less difficult, in my opinion.”
“And yet, someone stormed off, is what my sources tell me.” Fury nodded in a knowing manner. “Someone clearly not pleased and unimpressed with the impromptu tournament.”
Yelena squared off with the Director, clearly annoyed. She spoke words in rapid succession, her Russian accent heavier than usual. “What? Now it’s MY fault that I don’t like some show off fly-by-night Captain Marvel that is not around for all of the tedious work? Who just waltzes in all the time when its a big showy moment and does the inappropriate hugging? So what?” She huffed.
Fury spoke calmly. “How many texts and calls have you gotten from Kate since you left?”
“I have no idea. I am not a switchboard operator.”
He looked at her.
“Okay, fine. Thirty-seven.”
“I guarantee with certainty Kate Bishop has not called Carol Danvers, once.”
“What’s your point, Mr. Director Fury?”
“I recommend you learn from your sister. Because one of these days, someone might actually swoop in, and they might actually make an impact. People just want to know they matter, Yelena. They don't want to guess…they want to know.”
Yelena’s eyes went as big as saucers.
He continued, more gently. “Fortunately for you, that day is NOT today. Today, I’m pretty sure there is no man, woman, or child that could take Hawkeye’s eye off the target. You hear what I'm sayin'? You should count yourself lucky.”
Yelena was speechless.
“So, I’m going to ask you the same question I asked your sister: what are you going to do about it?”
Yelena looked at Fury, blinking.
Then, in one swift motion, she turned on her heel, spun around, and stormed out of the gym, with a determined look on her face. Without saying a word, she left the room and he could hear her determined steps as she stomped down the hall toward the Avenger’s residence suites.
He chucked to himself, and waited a solid five minutes before he pulled the ancient flip phone out of his pocket. Dialing the first number on the speed dial, he heard a familiar voice pick up.
“Thanks." Fury said. "You did me a real solid.”
He heard a sigh on the other end. “Jesus! I hope so! You fucking owe me, Fury.”
“Oh, I know!” He laughed.
“No, I mean it!” Carol Danvers replied, firmly. “It took Natasha a year to speak to me. A year!! And an entire year more before I worked up to telling her it was YOU who put me up to it, in the first place!”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m sure this go around will resolve itself much faster.”
He heard Carol’s deep laugh on the other end. “Good Lord, I hope so. Those Black Widows hold a damn grudge, that’s for sure….hey! By the way, Director Cupid, that Kate Bishop is one helluva shot!”
He laughed.
“Well, I have shit to do," Carol said with a laugh. "But, congrats on getting another toaster. Do me a favor, in the future, if you don't mind…save the calls for actual real world missions. Oh, and...take care of yourself, and give my Flerken a kiss.”
“THAT I will not do.” He said with mock indignation. “I’m down to one eyeball!”
He closed the flip phone with a grin.
THE END.