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Kate should’ve been used to Yelena showing up at her place at all hours of the night, amused every time Kate was startled and threw the nearest object at her (hot sauce bottle, remote control, cell phone, shampoo bottle...don’t ask), but when Kate woke and threw a pillow (really, that was all you could find?) at the silhouette, that smile didn’t carry its usual sharpness.
Kate knew better than to inquire further, merely flicking on her lamp, flipping her cell over to see the time and groaning at the numbers (3:47am, seriously?), “It is really too early for this game, Yelena.”
The blonde huffed, “I have shown up at much worse times.”
That was true.
“Three hours before my last exam of the semester?”
Something moved behind those hazel eyes, “Do you want me to leave?”
Was that hurt she heard?
Kate sighed, forcing herself to let go of her frustration at being woken up in the middle of the night, reminding herself that Yelena was still finding her place in the world and that, even though her and Clint were finally on (tenuous) speaking terms, she didn’t really have anyone else to talk to without putting on a front.
Even for a trained assassin, that wasn’t sustainable.
“I guess three hours of sleep is enough.” She pushed herself up and out of bed, tying back her hair into a ponytail, smiling at Yelena as she padded past. “Are you hungry? I bought the mac ‘n cheese you like.”
Yelena smiled back, following her into the kitchen.
Kate bent to pull the saucepan from the cabinet, feeling eyes on her as she filled it up with water and set it on the stove, making sure she heated the right burner before turning and resting her elbows on the counter. She leaned forward, “Whatcha been up to?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with, Kate Bishop.”
And that’s not the least bit ominous. “You just wanted to pop in for some girl time?”
“You said I was welcome any time.”
A statement that I regret every day since, Kate thought to herself half-heartedly, shooting a smile at the woman to let her know she wasn't really all that upset. “And you are. I was just...surprised is all.”
Yelena hummed, sinking onto one of the barstools and resting her chin in her palm, blowing a strand of blonde hair that had escaped her braid out of her face (the only outward sign that Kate could see that she’d been in a fight before she’d shown up).
Kate went through the process of making the macaroni; waiting for the water to boil, pouring the pasta into the bubbling water and stirring it until it was soft and pouring into a strainer over the sink, practically on autopilot the entire time due to how often she made it for herself, taking note of Yelena’s silence throughout it all.
She’d never had as much patience as most and silence wasn’t something she could stand for long, but this was the first time it had ever felt disconcerting. Uncomfortable. Like there was something that was supposed to be happening. Something to fill the silence.
But Yelena just stared off into the distance in rare showing of ignoring her surroundings and Kate wasn’t naïve enough to think that it was because she felt safe enough to do so in Kate’s presence. They hadn’t been friends that long and that hypervigilance instilled in her from such a young age would never fade.
Something was wrong .
She tried to scan for injuries, but there were none visible, no marks on her jeans or hoodie. No bulge of bandages underneath that she could see, although Kate knew better than to look for any signs of pain or discomfort.
Yelena had the unnerving ability to hide whatever she was feeling if she had to.
Kate stirred in the cheese flavoring pack and butter, “Any particular reason why tonight?”
Yelena blinked, refocusing on her, “I thought you said this test wouldn’t be hard.”
Kate didn’t know why Yelena was trying to push her buttons, but she refused to take the bait as getting in an argument with her was like being stupid enough to get into a physical fight; both of which Kate was guaranteed to lose…painfully. “It’s not that, I just…I want to know why right now?”
“What is with the incessant questions?”
“I just want to know if you’re…okay.”
“I am fine. It is you, Kate Bishop, that is worried for nothing. Just tired.”
“Okay.” Kate replied with a shrug, acting like simply being told not worry would just erase the worries entirely, and she knew Yelena could sense that the topic was merely tabled, not dropped, but neither said anything as Kate readied two bowls of mac ‘n cheese and set one and a bottle of hot sauce in front of Yelena. “Here.”
Yelena’s barely-there smile was genuine, “Thank you.”
Despite the odd hour, Kate did eat the entire bowl of macaroni, her internal worry growing as she watched Yelena eat maybe five bites and push the rest around with that same distant look and it took a lot on her part not to ask her how she was.
Kate cleared the dishes, “Did you want to watch a movie or something?”
Yelena slid out of the stool, “Sure. You pick.”
Kate did, selecting some random rom-com that required little attention, taking the opportunity to watch Yelena as discreetly as she could out of the corner of her eye; the woman’s eyes slipping closed not twenty minutes into the movie, her head resting on Kate’s shoulder and she didn’t have the heart to move her until it was over.
Maybe she really had been tired.
She nudged Yelena gently, not in the mood to dodge a knife or fist at the moment, “Hey.”
She didn’t wake up.
Kate frowned, “Yelena?”
Still no response.
Kate’s shoved down her worry as her mind jumped to the worst-case scenario, searching underneath her jaw for a pulse, panic flaring bright at the weak one she found, and eased herself away from Yelena, gently laying her down on the couch and placing a pillow under her head.
How had Kate not noticed how pale she was?
She pulled back the blanket and went cold.
The stomach of her hoodie was red with blood and Kate shoved down the last of her panic, feeling the calm wash over her like it always did when she drew back her bow, breath even and hands steady as she hurried to her kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors.
She cut open the hoodie to see a ripped t-shirt with bandages peeking through the tear, the scent of copper causing nausea to rise in her throat as she also cut away the last pieces of the t-shirt around the wound site.
Kate took a deep breath before cutting away the bandages and peeling it carefully away from her skin, the carefully cultivated calm shattering at the sight of the gunshot wound to her torso still bleeding heavily.
Kate hurriedly ripped open a pack of gauze and pressed down.
Yelena didn’t make a sound.
Kate could feel the panic pushing at the walls, tears stinging her eyes as she stared helplessly at the blood immediately welling up through the bandages and her fingers, the sticky warmth staining her hands a brilliant scarlet.
Her breath hitched, but still she remained calm and steady as she dialed 9-1-1, mechanically answering the dispatcher’s question as every ounce of attention remained on her friend, arms burning from applying pressure but the ache was easily cast aside; years of martial arts and gymnastics and archery had long taught her to ignore any and all discomfort.
So focused on her, that she nearly decked the paramedic that had gone to gently pull her away, not feeling as apologetic as she probably should’ve been as she forced herself to step back and allow them space.
A police officer approached her and Kate resisted the urge to bolt, knowing that they were just doing their job; taking a deep breath and allowing some of the genuine panic to steal over her body, hating the way her hands trembled and her heart began to race.
“Miss Bishop?”
“Kate.” She corrected, glancing back as Yelena was gently lifted onto a backboard and grimacing at the blood that had soaked into the blankets and cushions, staring down at her own blood-stained hands and feeling suddenly nauseous.
The officer acquiesced, “Kate. Can you tell me what happened?”
The upside of Yelena being so damn secretive all the time was that Kate wasn’t lying as she said she didn’t know. That Yelena had shown up in the middle of the night wanting girl time. That no, showing up in the middle of the night wasn’t unusual and no, Yelena told her nothing about what happened.
Kate could make assumptions, sure, but in all honesty, she had no clue.
Yelena was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside of an enigma (and the irony that Churchill said this regarding Russia was not lost on Kate). She still kept so much of herself hidden and while Kate was rather good at digging for information, she hadn’t done so with Yelena even if Yelena had done just that about her.
Growing up in the upper echelons of the New York wealthy, she was used to her information being out there for everyone to see, including her trauma (her father’s death, her mother’s betrayal, etc.) so she could respect wanting privacy even if she wasn’t afforded the luxury.
From the little crumbs she’d been given, Kate understood.
“Did she...”
“Look, I appreciate that you’re just trying to do your job, but can this wait?” Her eyes followed the gurney that was hurriedly being rolled past her, distantly noting how Yelena would hate being strapped down and probably stab the paramedics if she woke up. “I need to go with her.”
“Are you family?”
The question was a sucker punch and Kate sucked in a sharp breath, the defensiveness finally rearing its head and she was sure her eyes flashed, if the look on one paramedic’s face was anything to go by. “She’s my sister.”
Everyone in the room knew that, legally, that wasn’t true, but they didn’t argue.
The detective handed her a card and Kate took it, following behind the gurney, thankful that Grills had taken Lucky for the walk (as studying for finals didn’t leave much time for walks), making sure to send him a quick text to keep him for a little bit longer.
She receives a thumbs up emoji in response and smiles to herself, shutting off the screen and stepping out onto the front steps, hissing as bare feet stepped onto icy, snow-covered concrete, and remembering that it is January in New York and that she was wearing only a tank top and thin pajama pants. “Fuck, it’s cold.”
She waved off their concern as she climbed into the ambulance, taking the proffered coat and multiple pairs of medical booties with a small thankful smile before settling in and watching as they work on Yelena.
She watched the heart monitor, glancing at the monitors and trying to decipher what each of the numbers mean when the beeping increased and Yelena began to thrash against the straps, Kate surging forward and finding those fever-bright hazel eyes, “Yelena. Yelena, hey!”
Her words were a slurred mess of Russian that Kate couldn’t understand and she didn’t know where Yelena thought she was, but she had a general idea what she thought was happening to her and Kate’s heart broke the same moment anger burned in the pit of her stomach. “Yelena, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
There was the distinct sound of a blade slicing the bindings and Kate jumped in front of the poor paramedic, catching her wrist in a feat that wouldn’t have been possible if Yelena was at full strength, but her hands were slick with blood and her grip wasn’t great, the blade slicing deep in her palm as the knife slipped. She hissed in pain, but didn’t let go, holding those eyes with her own, “It’s me, Yelena. It’s Kate! It’s Kate!”
Yelena blinked, “Kate?”
“Yes.” She smiled, “It’s Kate.”
Her brow furrowed, “What...”
Kate finagled the dagger from her suddenly slack grip, holding it behind her with her injured hand for the paramedic to take and helping her lie back down, “You were shot, Yelena. We're on our way to a hospital now.”
Yelena looked afraid, “No hospitals. No!”
Kate’s eyes stung at she held her down, hating the whimpers escaping from Yelena, “I’ll be right here with you the whole time, alright? I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay. You’re safe, Yelena. You’re safe.”
“Safe?”
“I promise.” Kate’s voice cracked.
Yelena’s gaze struggled to hold hers before slipping closed and Kate’s stomach dropped when the machine started going haywire and the EMTs pulled her back just as it flatlined, frozen to the spot when realized that Yelena’s heart had stopped. That she was dying.
“No...” Her throat was tight, “Please, no...”
Kate could only hold her breath until, miraculously, the beeping resumed and Kate sank down onto the bench, wordlessly allowing one of the paramedics to work on her hand, and it wasn’t until the ambulance finally came to a stop in front of the hospital that Kate finally managed to move.
Fissures crept along the barriers she’d used to hold back her emotions.
Yelena was hurried in an operating room and Kate was sat down in the waiting room, legs bouncing and fingers twitching for her bow, a punching bag, anything to expel the nervous energy before catching the nervous glances being shot her way.
She must look a sight for ER personnel to be staring at with poorly shielded worry, finally getting to her feet to find the nearest bathroom before shutting and locking the door behind her. The sight that greeted her in the small mirror explained everyone’s concern.
Her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes were wide and wild, dark hair coming undone from Yelena’s careful braid and she was covered in blood; smeared across her cheek and neck where she’d propped her phone and halfway up her arms save for the bandaged hands where she’d tried and failed to keep Yelena’s blood inside of her, pale purple pajamas stiff with rust-colored stains...
She looked like a victim of a goddamn slasher movie.
And none of the blood was hers.
Her breath hitched, an iron band squeezing the last of the air from her chest and she wanted to scream. She wanted to break something. She wanted — No needed to do something. Anything to make the pain she was feeling go away.
She’d felt flickers of this when Dad had died, but had been stemmed with the realization that the Chutari that had destroyed the penthouse and crushed him beneath the rubble had died, and she hated that she’d ever felt that angry, that vengeful...
She’d understood how Clint’s grief and anger had created Ronin, in that moment.
Dad was gone and buried, her mother was in a cell, and her friend, her sister in everything but blood was currently fighting for her life and Kate was alone in a way she hadn’t since that singular moment in Grills’s apartment, staring down at her phone as the last of her family crumbled apart.
Clint had been there, though, stalwart and calm.
He’d called her his partner then.
Your mess is my mess.
Clint…
She’d seen the weight Clint carried as though it were a physical thing, only lessening when he was surrounded by his children with his wife a comforting presence at his side. But the shadowed grief in those pale eyes would never fade.
And Kate didn’t want to add to it.
She refused to cause him more pain.
She turned the sink on as scalding as it could, wetting a wad of paper towels and squeezing hand soap onto it and scrubbing at any flecks of blood she could find, not caring in the slightest as the stitches in her palm pulled painfully or if she scrubbed her skin raw.
But there was so much. Too much .
She squeezed her eyes shut, fingers curling white-knuckle tight around the edges of the sink in an effort to keep them from shaking but the barriers had fallen and the fear and the grief washed over her like a tsunami, her breathing gasping and ragged, sharp vision going dark at the edges.
A panic attack.
She hadn’t had a panic attack in nearly five years and she’d had Mom there to pull her out of it, but Mom wasn’t there. Mom wasn’t there and Yelena was in surgery and Clint was ninety minutes by the quickest flight.
She was alone, completely alone.
Her hands went numb and she released the sink, knees kitting the tile with bruising force, but she couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel the burning in her chest as breathed too fast, too shallow. Couldn’t feel anything as everything poured from her like blood: the pain, the grief, the guilt, the anger…
Only numbness and cold.
“I’m sorry.” She choked out through the tears, “I’m sorry.”
A hand settled on her shoulder and Kate lashed out with her injured hand, scrambling away until her back slammed hard into the far wall, her vision distorted with tears and darkening further as she struggled to breath, sinking to the ground.
An older nurse was crouched in front of her, just out of arms reach, hands extended palm out, “Hey, hey, it’s alright.”
Kate shook her head, “It’s not. It’s not…”
“You’re having a panic attack.” Her eyes were a clear, warm hazel, reminding Kate of the rare moments of real genuine warmth she’d glimpse in her friend. “I’m here to help. I’m not here to hurt you. You safe.”
“You’re safe, Yelena. I promise.”
“Can I come closer?”
Kate managed a jerky nod, still unable to slow her breathing, but relaxed as the warmth of another body settled her and Kate drifted, faintly aware of the woman guiding her breathing into something much smoother and slower, listening to the steady heartbeat until her own matched it and she finally became aware of her own surrounding once more.
Embarrassment washed over. “I’m sorry about...”
“Not a problem at all, dear.” She offered a small smile, “Is there someone I can call?”
“No, I...” she cleared her throat, fishing her cell phone out of her pocket and grimacing at the congealed blood smeared across the screen, “I have someone I can call, but I don’t...it’ll take time for them to get here and...”
“I understand.” The nurse smiled, “Call and then we’ll get you a change of clothes.”
…
Kate flipped the phone idly in her hands, tossing it back and forth as she waited for a text from Clint saying they’d landed or an update from the doctors working on Yelena, resisting the urge to pace up and down the halls.
She knew the saying, that no news was good news, but every second that passed, that earlier panic tied to weasel its way back, but she refused to fall into again. Clint would be coming and Yelena was being helped.
She wasn’t going to be alone. Not for much longer.
Kate kept repeating that, over and over again.
Maybe if she said it enough times, it would be true.
“Kate?”
She spun around, finding Clint in the doorway. “Clint?”
Without a word, he gathered her in his arms, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Kate closed her eyes, burying her face into his chest and beginning to cry.
“Shh. It’s okay.” Clint pressed a kiss to her forehead, a fatherly gesture that she hadn’t had in over a decade. He rocked her, steady hands rubbing up and down her back, whispering soothing words over and over again that Kate couldn’t really decipher but eventually, she was able to finally calm down enough to pull back.
“I’m sorry.”
Clint frowned, “For what?”
“Not seeing that something was wrong sooner.”
He hummed, guiding her into the waiting room and into a chair, “If Yelena didn’t want you to see it, Kate, then there was nothing more you could’ve done. She trusted you enough to help her, though, and that counts for a lot, I would think.”
Kate stared down at her hands, “I guess.”
“Family of Yelena Belova?”
Both Kate and Clint straightened up, speaking simultaneously, “Yes?”
The doctor smiled, “Your girl’s a fighter. She’s gonna pull through.”
Kate sagged into Clint’s side, the weight finally lifted, and smiled.
Everything was going to be okay.