Chapter Text
Alexei
It took time.
For Melina to trust him enough to talk to him, in Ohio and after, it took time, so when she sat quietly as he boasted about their Natasha surviving to graduation, that little Yelena would be next, as her eyes glazed over, and she adopted the iron maiden mask he associated with missions, not his sitting room, he waited. Loudly and impatiently, he waited.
It wasn’t until their third bottle of vodka and his proud proclamation that Natasha would become the greatest Widow in history, and when she retired, would provide a whole batch of mini-widows to serve the Party that Melina twitched. Small, imperceptible without enhanced senses, but there. Alexei flexed, his back straightening proud of himself for noticing… and Melina said he was oblivious.
“Do you know what the Graduation ceremony is, Alexei?” she’d asked.
He repeated what he’d been told, that it made the assassins stronger, better able to serve the motherland. He was wrong. He was so wrong.
Melina, in more detail than was necessary, in his opinion, informed him.
Alexei immediately stormed to Dreykov’s office, ignoring Melina’s protest that he would only make it worse. He was the Red Guardian. He would protect his girls.
Alexei greeted Dreykov like the friend he was. He bragged about his time in Ohio, about delivering the best Red Room recruits in history. He explained that if the girls were given back to him and Melina, they could shape them into the greatest assets the Party had ever seen. No Graduation necessary.
Dreykov smirked, throwing a friendly arm over Alexei’s shoulders. He led him out of his office and down the hall. They wound their way to the medical wing before Dreykov pulled him through a side door.
That was how Alexei found himself staring through a oneway mirror about to watch his oldest go through something that haunted one of the strongest women he knew, his fists clenched at his sides.
“That’s the thing, Alexei,” Dreykov said, eyes snapping cold as quickly as one of his widows. “They never were your girls.” Dreykov raised a hand. Guards swarmed into the room surrounding Alexei, guns dutifully pointed at the Red Guardian’s head.
Alexei sneered at them readying for a fight.
Dreykov lifted a hand to the glass indifferent to the brewing violence. Alexei’s attention was pulled back to the reason he was there. Natasha.
She looked older, but still too small for the medical bed she was strapped to. The doctor stood over her, scalpel in hand, waiting for permission to begin.
“They are mine.” Dreykov said showing too many teeth. He knocked on the window. The doctor pulled a portion of cloth down to reveal a section of Natasha’s stomach… and began to cut.
Alexei took a step forward. A guard’s hand landed on his shoulder. He froze. Of course, he froze. He could rip every one of them apart, but Dreykov… Dreykov his friend, his mind spit the word like a curse… Dreykov was right. Alexei could rip through the guards, smash the glass and grab Natasha before the doctor could cause any more damage, maybe, but Melina and little Yelena, Dreykov could do what he wanted with them, could send them on dangerous missions, use them as cannon fodder against the western agenda. If Alexei fought, it was a death sentence for at least two of his girls.
Oh, Natasha. Alexei’s eyes misted as blood welled to the surface of her skin meeting the scalpel.
Dreykov raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you could use some time, Alexei. Some time to understand who controls Widows.”
Dreykov nodded once. The guard began dragging Alexei away—As usual, Melina was right. He’d only made it worse—Alexei let him.
When his cell door screeched closed, his vision was tinted the same color as Natasha’s blood.
Dreykov would pay.
Yelena
It was over. Dreykov was dead. They controlled their own future, now.
Yelena trailed a finger along the bottom of her vest. She chose it. She bought it. On her own. It was her decision, and it was a good one. It made her happy. She didn’t notice she was smiling until she caught Natasha staring at her.
Natasha who abandoned her, who escaped and never thought to come back. Yelena blinked, refusing to let her smile fall. It was another decision she had to make. Alexei delivered them to the Red Room. Melina created the drug that controlled her for more of her life than it hadn’t. She chose them anyway. It felt like a good decision. They made her happy. She hoped she could do the same for them.
She controlled her future, and she chose her family.
Natasha smiled back.