Chapter Text
The barely toddler was running around naked from head-to-toe, squealing with no regards to filter any of her childish words, no matter how ridiculous and curious they sounded. Yelena's face was lit up with pure gold, challenging the newfound government system which appeared to be a maternally incompetant Melina and a mostly amused, but somewhat annoyed Alexei.
Ten-year-old Jules had been left dumbfounded on the sofa, wondering where her role in all of this might have been. Seven-year-old Nat had sat not so far away from her, possibly wondering the same thing. How could this have been more important than an assassination? This could not have been a real mission. It all seemed too good... Intense and unrealistic, but good: safe.
The first week had been the worst of it. Exhausted Melina and Alexei had arrived at an incredibly busy airport somewhere in New York City with a fussy and teary-eyed toddler who could not remember the difference between her biological parents and new, along with two unimpressed, traumatized, and overly mature little girls, one shy; one too sarcastic for her own good.
Jules had no further instruction on how she was supposed to belong in this impractical and unfamiliar environment. All she knew was that until she had been given a more detailed order, she would focus acting on what she had been taught about Americans before they left Budapest. She knew that she was meant to be an American. She would live here, she would talk American, adopt an American name, befriend American children, and attend an American school, and that this was her American family. But how was she meant to be part of an American family?
Melina and Alexei scared her more than she thought they might. She felt as though she was walking on eggshells around two Red Room legends: the Iron Maiden and the Red Guardian, who were playing house with three girls in the suburbs of Ohio. Because she was older, she had the benefit of knowing and understanding more than Natasha, so she knew that she was meant to play the part of an American daughter. She was just trying to figure out what that could mean.
She had taken a liking to Natasha immediately. Natasha had unruly and dark ginger hair and wicked features which only softened after she had fallen asleep, which Jules had just managed to see in the moonlight crashing through the airplane window. Jules thought Natasha was introverted, but she didn't mind that. Not really, anyway. She was just quiet and didn't like to speak very often, occasionally stealing a glance at Jules' eyes or shoes.
The youngest had also caught Jules' attention; the two-year-old with remarkable anger issues who threw constant tantrums had already managed to steal the hearts of two Russian agents. Yelena was also soft and patient when she wanted to be, offering to share copious amounts of love without any trace of regret, which left Jules baffled. She was sweet and very much a baby, which sometimes made it hard for Jules to keep her rough exterior truly rough.
Anyway, it was Friday, and the sun had just tucked away for the night. Yelena had already forgotten her biological parents appearances by Wednesday, and she treated Melina and Alexei like they had been old friends, forcing trouble on them as she screeched her way down the hallway naked and covered in bubbles, shouting Jules and Natasha's names randomly.
"Get back here, you!" Alexei grunted, still playing with her. His fuse was running short, though. Jules could tell by the way his shoes had started clanking louder on the floorboards.
Natasha dared to spare Jules another sheepish glance, burying her eyes the minute Jules had caught her staring. Natasha could have been in awe, or there had been something on the oldest girl's face for days on end.
"Should we help?" Jules asked, her American accent fading with the absence of Melina or Alexei to reprimand her for the wrong pronunciation. She was nervous to speak to Natasha, having only exchanged verging on a couple of words with the girl since they had first landed.
Natasha turned her head quickly, uneasy at the idea of having to deal with such a wild and untrained toddler. "Let's wait for instruction," she had said instead. Jules felt a little shut down, because she had expected a kinder-toned response from Natasha, but she had what was given.
Melina thumped downstairs, muttering Russian obscenities to herself as she failed to notice the presence of the two confused and interested little girls.
Jules had stood up and followed Melina to the kitchen with the lack of interest from the Iron Maiden, wondering whether this was something she was meant to do as the oldest daughter of an American family. If her teacher's hadn't lied to her, she was meant to support the family.
Melina shielded her eyes with her cupped hands, clenching the bridge of her nose in distress and heavy frustration, which Jules could instantly tell was from the blonde-haired sprinter. Melina looked truly upset, which both confused and fascinated Jules, watching from afar.
"Melina?" Jules mumbled.
Melina lifted her head instantly, attempting a smile. She did not understand how she was meant to care and provide for all the tiny people in the household. It was only the first week, and this was her fifth time failing to put Yelena into the bathtub without threatening to punish the little thing. It made her angry and confused that she had never been taught how this should work.
Alexei seemed to be doing just fine, though. He had taken to parenting like it was this natural hidden talent he had always possessed, waiting and praying that someday he might be able to flaunt it in front of Melina. She, of course, knew that she had only made that up in her head to feel better, and it did for a little bit. Alexei just possessed some kind of parental instinct that Melina was convinced she would never see inside of herself.
"Hey, Jules," Melina returned with little effort, approaching the blonde-haired child and offering a hand to her cheek. "Mom's tired right now, baby."
Jules managed to feel a little bad, despite the "baby" Melina had managed to mumble which usually would have made her go ballistic. That's how Jules knew she felt bad. Jules had experienced what felt like every emotion possible in this week of adjustment, sympathy being one of them.
"Why don't you go help Natka get her pajamas on and get a snack, huh?" Melina suggested, trying her best to raise her voice authoritatively. "Yelena is being naughty again."
"Okay, Melina," Jules replied, going to turn around. She had stopped herself, returning to face Melina and meet her eyes. "I want to ask you things," she had added quickly.
It took all the courage in the world for Jules to mumble a sentence like that: short and simple, blunt and bold. Natasha was still learning that she could speak up, too. She would have had her skin torn for a comment like that in the Red Room, but not here apparently.
Melina had to resist the urge to dispute the request; the urge to listen to her training and remember the kind of indecent and vile kind of thing she might have been rewarded with for asking such an innocent and simple-minded sentence.
"What do you want to ask?" Melina asked instead. That seemed right. It seemed not too forward or concerned, just interested and caring. That was the way a mother should seem, right?
Jules re-approached the dark-haired woman, trying not to glare too hard at the killer appearance Melina always managed to have equipped on her like some kind of loaded gun. Jules glared at the woman with much admiration, having grown up with stories and legends constantly surrounding her as one of the very few kinds of entertainment she had.
"How am I meant to accomplish my role as this... this American daughter?" Jules had crafted together, wondering if that was the right English sentence or if she had just made a load of gibberish and smashed it together. "Your daughter, and Natasha and Yelena's big sister?"
Melina seemed almost relieved at such a question. She was; highly relieved. Melina had expected the question of her biological family or some kind of rude remark regarding Melina's current pathetic state.
"How do you think, Juliska?" Melina asked.
Jules deadens and freezes up at the affectionate diminutive of her name. She doesn't know how to reply to Melina. She'd much rather be quiet and take the punishment than take a chance and guess wrong. Punishments for guessing were so much worse.
Melina had immediately noticed Jules' lack of response, kneeling down to her level. This was what parents did, yes? They guided their child through the confusion and narrowed it down to their understanding. Melina took a breath as she cleared her mind.
"Big sisters love their little sisters unconditionally," Melina explained, two hands resting on Jules' rising and falling shoulders. "They protect them with all they have and keep them safe. They want their little sister's to be happy and healthy."
Jules is reluctant and stubborn in her decision to alter the definition in her head, but she does. She would protect Natasha from harm, and she would make sure that Yelena stayed as happy as she was now, even if it meant she never learned from her mischief. After clearing her head, Jules parroted the answer back to Melina.
Protect Nat and Lena.
Jules could do that.
Natasha whirled her head around the moment Jules stepped foot out of the kitchen. This time, Natasha was not so quick to keep her curiosity hidden.
Much to Jules delight, Natasha didn't hesitate to talk to her out of fear. "Melina's okay?" Natasha asked quickly, resting her chin against the frame of the armchair, using one of her hands to prop herself up. She stared at her with big eyes.
Jules gave a nod, plonking herself down beside Nat with a realm of sensitivity and comfort. "She's okay, but tired. She wants you to get your pajamas on," Jules recalled.
Natasha felt a little startled that a direct order hadn't come from Melina's mouth; that it had come from Jules. She shrugged off the confusion unnoticeably, standing up from her spot.
Turning her head, Jules resisted any kind of intrusive thought that were still managing to flood her brain after Melina's answer. How seriously was she meant to take this role of protecting Natasha and Yelena? Perhaps she could spare them a couple of minutes alone.
"What about you?" Natasha mumbled, rubbing her forearms out of nervousness. "Are you going to bed, as well?" She was waiting to see if Jules was available for a story of some variety. Jules liked that she could be depended on for small things like that, even if it felt strange at first.
"I'll come up with you," was Jules' only response, fearing to be too eager.
The two girls could hear the bath water splashing onto bathroom tiles as they sauntered up the stairs. If Yelena was in the bath, she would make damn well sure the bath water wasn't.
Natasha vanished into the two girls' shared bedroom and Jules dawdled further down the hallway, running her hand along the railing until she reached the shared bathroom.
Alexei is knelt down on the bathroom tiles, a mat shielding his knees from the spilt water as he tries his best to dry Yelena with a face-washer-sized towel.
"Julie!" Yelena shouts, racing into her. She deserts her towel and father for the awkward and concerned ten-year-old standing in the doorway.
Jules feels as if she's standing there like a deer in the headlights. Jules had only known Yelena for a week, but a week was a significant amount of time in the almost three-year-old's life. A week was a couple of months for this tiny blonde-haired fluff.
"Hold me," the little girl demanded.
So, Jules held her without complaint; skin against fabric. As she did, she stared into the eyes of the infamous Red Guardian, still managing to tower over her despite on his knees, he watched with a level of unmatched intensity. Jules felt needed and simultaneously unimportant.
Yelena's bare skin felt hopelessly soft underneath Jules' damaged and worn hands. She longed for that kind of innocence and oblivion. Then it hit her, and Jules silently wondered when it would happen; when this child's skin would also become as scarred as hers.
It was bound to happen. This playful little girl would end up with her very same fate, twisted and broken and tricked into hours of training and ballet until she could no longer feel her feet. Jules would protect her. She would protect them both.
Alexei continued to stare at her, reading her mind almost. "All right, moi deti," he finally hushed, watching Lena practically crumble in Jules' arms. "Time for bed, yes?"
The girl gave a nod, slipping down from Jules' embrace and back into Alexei's hold. He held her with such big arms Jules felt scared just for a minute that Lena might get lost in his skin. "Say goodnight to Julie, Lena." And a mumble followed.
Yelena and Alexei passed Jules, leaving the oldest daughter alone in the bathroom with her thoughts, some far more disturbing and confronting than others.
Jules wandered over to the bathroom mirror, fists clenching as she considered smashing the glass in this random and irritating disperse of anger and inequity. How could Yelena not be told?
Instead, Jules snapped open her toothpaste and squeezed some out onto her toothbrush, wetting it just a little before shoving it into her mouth.
Why could Jules not work out whether she liked this or hated it? She liked Alexei and Melina, and she liked Nat and Yelena, but most things were so new and uncomfortable it made it hard to think about the good things. She liked that she wasn't in the Red Room, that she could watch the television and draw things that weren't for any reason. She didn't like America, and she didn't like pretending that things had always been this way. She wanted Melina to talk to her and tell her things about her mother or father that she could not have access to inside those walls, because she knew Melina knew things. Perhaps in the morning. Perhaps next week.
Drawing her toothbrush from her mouth, she spat the foamy toothpaste into the sink, wiping the corners of her lips. This was usually around the time Jules would have her wrist handcuffed to the bedframe, but not tonight.
Natasha had managed to enter the bathroom without going noticed, loitering in the doorway with forgiving green eyes and a toy of some kind pressed tightly behind her back. She does not want Jules to see it, despite having brought it with her.
Jules whipped around, deliriously shaking away her thoughts. "I was just doing my teeth," Jules answered without needing a question. "Have you said goodnight to Mom and Dad?"
Natasha gave Jules a silent nod. She hadn't, and Jules knew. She didn't ask anything else, and they walked into their bedroom.
Nat plonked down onto the bed on her side of the room, handing Jules a children's book she had picked before coming to retrieve her from the bathroom.
Jules had only done this once before for Natasha, when she had woken up in the middle of the night. She had asked for a story, and now Jules was sure it would become part of their routine, but it still made her nervous that she might somehow read the story wrong and upset Nat.
Jules held the book in her hands. "Can I sit on your bed?"
"Yes," Nat replied eagerly, trying to mask it with skepticism.
Jules did, gently lowering herself down beside Nat's torso and lifting her legs underneath the covers for a little while to keep warm. She opened the book: written in English and illustrated with drawings that made Jules nostalgic for the feeling of being much younger. She read with passion and tone and clarity, occasionally rattling the bed and shifting her weight to assist the story in coming alive. Natasha hid her smile underneath the sheets, but she loved it.
Jules shut the book, placing it on Nat's bedside table with no prior knowledge as to where the book had actually come from.
"Julie," Nat muttered, making Jules' head turn at the sound of her nickname. "Thanks for reading to me. I like having you as my sister, I think."
Jules felt her heart shatter in all the best ways. This sister thing was easy and rewarding. If all she had to do to earn Natasha's respect and friendship was reading to her, she had this down.
"I like having you as my sister, too," Jules returned, climbing into her bed with ease.