Work Text:
2016
Yelena holds the door open, allowing you to shuffle in behind her, before she motions towards the sofa. You immediately move to follow the unspoken command, perching yourself at the very edge and pressing your body into the armrest as if you could become part of it. The blonde, meanwhile, takes a central seat on the opposite chair. She rests her elbows on her knees and leans forward, with her chin resting on intertwined fingers. Her brows are minutely knitted and her gaze pounces on any movement you make – you realise she’s analysing you.
Well, two can play at that game.
In an instant, you come away from the armrest and relax your back, spreading yourself into a wider stance… everything you can do to level your authority, even in the older Widow’s own apartment.
“Y/N, don’t do that,” she scoffs before changing her position again; she’s leaning back now with her arms crossed over her chest, though her attention to you remains as analytical as ever.
“I’m just sitting.”
“Widow’s don’t just sit.”
“Then what do you want me to not do?”
“Don’t be a Widow.”
“I am a Widow.”
“I know. Don’t be.”
You huff, now unintentionally copying her pose once again when you cross your arms and sulkily lean back into the cushions. “You are very confusing, Yelena, how should I not be what I was raised to be? What you trained me to be.”
Yelena winces a little at the reminder. Ten years older than you, the woman now sitting across from you had been your assigned trainer for eleven years in the Red Room, from your arrival at age six and right up until last month, when she’d broken free of the chemical control and escaped into the real world. Everything you knew about espionage and violence, everything you hated to be, came from her teachings, and you’d been just about ready to pass it on to your own mentees when she came and freed you from the Red Room’s control.
What they forced her to do to you would always be a sore spot for Yelena, but, regardless, she schools her expression back to neutral, then smiles. You eye her suspiciously.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You ask how not to be a Widow? You are already doing it; do you think Dreykov would approve of that stance?”
Yelena laughs as you quickly scramble back to the perfect pose she’d once drilled into you. “Dreykov is not going to punish you, he is dead. At least, I think he is dead,” she frowns, “though he has escaped being blown up once before, so you can never really know. Either way, he must be very badly injured and probably also dead, so you can relax.”
When you don’t shift, Yelena stands up and takes a seat beside you. “You’re free , Y/N. They can’t control us anymore. Our lives are our own and, from now on, they always will be.”
She finally closes the gap between you two when she sees tears forming in your eyes, pulling you close but leaving a loose arm on your shoulder – giving you the opportunity to escape her grasp should you want. You don’t. Instead, you press yourself further into her side and let the tears flow.
“Stay here with me?”
With the careful way she suggests it, you can tell it’s something she’s been dwelling on for a while, rather than an impulsive response to your show of emotions. “We’re both new to the world, we can work it out together, if you’d like that? I’ll keep you safe, I promise. You can just be 17.”
You don’t respond instantly, already growing quite comfortable with being tucked in Yelena’s arms, but when you do nod, Yelena notices; she smiles and pulls you a little closer.
»»————- ★ ————-««
2005
“Yelena?”
“Да” (Yes)
“Это ваше. Поддерживайте его в живых.” (This one is yours. Keep it alive.)
You’re shoved harshly in the direction of the young blonde. The guard who pushed you laughs as you stumble, but Yelena catches you and keeps you on your feet. You try to pull yourself closer to her side, latching on to the first show of kindness you’ve had in weeks, but the teen prises you off of her and positions you behind her back – she doesn’t look at you, only staring down the guards until they leave, before she grabs your arm and leads you into a small adjoining room. She slams the door and you startle, your vision clouding with tears as you realise things aren’t going to go back to normal, that this woman won’t be your saviour.
“Вы говорите по-русски?” (Do you speak Russian?) she asks; it’s not harsh, but it’s not as soft as your mother’s tone either. The tears begin to flow.
“English?” she tries again, this time you nod.
“I spoke only English at your age,” the girl says, “you must learn Russian though; I will help, but the trainers will perfect it.”
You don’t reply and eventually the older girl sighs; she takes a step forward, but still lingers awkwardly across the room from you, not wanting to get too close. “I am Yelena. What is your name?”
“Y/N.”
“I’m going to be your mentor, Y/N; do you want to learn new things?”
You’re not sure what to make of Yelena, but, at 6, there’s a lot of things you want to know, so you nod shyly, then ask your first question, “what is going to happen to me?”
Yelena notices the shake in your voice, and she’s been an assassin long enough to infer what you must have seen, what instances brought you to her. She comes a step closer again and purposefully softens her voice, “you’re going to stay here; you and I, we are going to be a team from now, okay? We’ll do some training and that will keep you safe. I’m going to try to keep you safe.”
“Do you pinky promise?”
The older girl hesitates, staring down at your extended finger as if it were a gun pointed in her direction – but at least she’d know how to handle that. The longer your hand hovers, extended, the more Yelena worries, knowing this isn’t a promise she can make in full confidence, but she can’t disappoint you either.
She wraps her own pinky around yours and shakes on it, “I promise,” she says at last, “I’m going to keep you safe. I just need you to listen to everything I say.”
»»————- ★ ————-««
The adjustment period is hard – certainly harder than either you or Yelena expected. Contrary to your original expectations, Yelena doesn’t give up the assassin lifestyle, and she doesn’t force you to either; it’s all the two of you have known, and you’re too ingrained in it to manage a completely clean break.
For one, neither of you have birth certificates or any form of ID at all, and you find out very quickly how necessary those are. Yelena puts her contacts to good use and obtains birth certificates and American passports for the both of you; the legalities are dubious, but she’s now officially your older sister, which gives her guardianship status over you – because apparently a 17 year old needs that in the real world, as if you don’t have several lifetimes of maturity and experience under your belt already.
You’re grateful for all the steps Yelena has taken to look after you: from signing you up to a boxing club for the familiarity of training, to telling Valentina that the two of you could only be employed as a pair, ensuring she’d be there to protect you even on missions. You want to repay her for everything she’s done for you, but you’re still learning the limits of the real world – your resources were practically limitless in the Red Room if it completed the mission, but that is certainly not the case anymore. So, instead, you’re forced to turn to the internet for adequate methods of thanking your lifelong friend.
You start small: flowers, household chores, cooking… anything you can find, but most end up in chaos. Flowers gave you hay fever, it turns out; your meals have to be scraped out of the pans and taste worse that the Red Room canteen; and, much to your annoyance, Yelena refuses to let you do all the chores, immediately stopping you and taking over for ‘her turn’ if you'd done it the night before, which only gave you more to thank her for.
Eventually, you conclude that if you want to thank Yelena properly then you should stick to what you know: murder, maiming, and incredible violence… though she tries to discourage that now, so you shift to simply risking yourself, doing everything you can on missions to keep Yelena safe.
It works the first few times, you get a few bruises and scrapes, but that's nothing unexpected in your line of work and, more importantly, Yelena comes out unscathed. She seems ignorant to the actions you're taking, which is how you aim to keep it; you know she wouldn't approve of you putting yourself at risk just to keep her safe, but that's how the Red Room taught you to perform and, after everything she's done for you, it's what you're willing to do to thank her.
»»————- ★ ————-««
2013
“You ready, Y/N?” Yelena smiles. The two of you are in matching bodysuits, sitting in the back of a jet destined for Manchester, England. You nod and double check the various weaponry attached to you.
Yelena reaches behind her, pulling out a map which you’ve memorised by now, and lays it on the table between you. “There’s two floors to this facility,” she recaps, “they’re developing weapons and we’ve been assigned to retrieve blueprints for all of them. Where do we find them?”
You point quickly to the corridor of offices. “Locked filing cabinet in office 2, if intelligence is to be trusted.”
“And which route will we take?”
“From the bus stop, into the woods within the perimeter. The back entrance will have only one guard between 0130 and 0200, giving us a window to enter. This corridor here,” you point, “has a guard, so we must pass while their back is turned. Stairs are unguarded. Two rights and we’ll be at the offices. There’s a ladder to the roof and an escape route from there, which is how we’ll get out.”
“Good. You have learnt it well. The Red Room demands perfection, but you are going to make them proud.”
Hours later, you aren’t so sure. You sit by her hospital bed, knee bouncing with worry as the medics operate on her; the steady beeping of her vitals acts as your only comfort, but you know first-hand that it could switch at any second.
Behind you, a door opens and closes, causing a noticeable shift in the atmosphere of the room. The medics stand taller, the guards lower their gaze, and you immediately stop your movements, knowing exactly who has walked in. You stand to attention and turn to face the tall, boney woman in front of you, though you bow your head in respect just as the guards did.
“A word, Y/N, outside,” Madame B instructs. She doesn’t wait for a response – she knows you wouldn’t dare give her one – she simply turns on her heel and has you follow her back out of the door like a puppy on a leash.
“Explain exactly what happened. And I don’t want excuses.”
“We were fighting the guards for some time, there were far more than Yelena and I had expected–”
“I said no excuses.”
“Sorry Madame. We left one of them for too long and he was able to take a shot while my back was turned – it would have hit my head, but Yelena noticed and stepped in between, receiving the bullet just to the left of her heart, puncturing her lung. I brought her to medics quickly-”
“I don’t need to hear the rest,” the woman cuts in. “Yelena is one of our best Widows, whereas you… you are expendable, Y/N, and I expect you to know it. Until you train yourself to be better than Yelena, then it is your responsibility to put your body on the line to keep her safe, no matter the cost to you. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“You will go to the training room immediately. If you think your life is worth more than Yelena’s, then we will put that to the test – incapacitate the five Widows in there without taking a hit, and you will be excused from punishment this time.”
The task is impossible, you know that, you may defeat the others, but not without one of them landing a blow, and once they do that, you will be beaten to within an inch of your life for failing the task. Regardless, you nod towards Madame B and march to the training room with your head held high; you deserve the punishment, you know that too. You are expendable, Yelena is not.
All five girls jump at you. This is what you deserve.
»»————- ★ ————-««
2017
You were always aware that something would eventually go wrong, each mission where you threw yourself recklessly into danger was only testing your luck. You accepted the risk, but when it actually happens, well… you hadn't prepared for the consequences.
After four months of obtaining only minor injuries, you and Yelena are on another mission in Upstate New York, dressed to the nines at some CEO’s mansion. You don't care to remember his name since, if all goes to plan, he'll be dead at the end of the night anyway.
The party is already buzzing when the two of you walk in and, after a quick scout of the area together, the two of you separate and mingle with the guests, establishing your presence in the main hall until there's an opportunity to corner the host away from spectators.
It's going well, you think, until angry yells sound out from the other side of the room, loud enough to drown out the music. Guests look up curiously, just as you do, until you see Yelena thrown onto the stage. A handful of bodyguards emerge from the crowd to surround her, all readying their weapons in her direction.
You don't think, you just barrel through the gawking crowds to tackle your mentor out of the firing line. Yelena is back on her feet in an instant and you try to do the same, but a sharp pain keeps you down. The crowds are screaming now, and hopefully fleeing as you're overwhelmed by a chorus of gunshots.
You counted 7 guards before. They are no problem for Yelena to take down alone, but you don't allow for that. Ignoring the excruciating pain as you move and pretending you don't notice that your shirt is soaked in blood, you roll yourself onto your back, reaching for your holster and taking out the last three guards in rapid succession. Their attention was focused on Yelena, making it easy for you to do.
In a now empty hall, Yelena finally releases the breath she's been holding and looks around to congratulate you, until she sees you right where she left you, lying flat on the stage.
“Y/N!”
Her face interrupts your view of the ceiling and you yelp when you feel her hand clamp over your ribs. “I know, I know,” she whispers, face filled with worry as her dialtone begins.
“Natasha?” she says when the person answers at last, “I need you, please , we need medics at my location. I don’t know, the best the Avengers have got. You have good ones, right?”
The world seems to fade at the edges and you relax into your tired state. But then Yelena is snapping her fingers in front of you and her tear-stained face comes back into focus.
“Stay awake for me please, Y/N.”
“Natasha, hurry,” she sobs once again.
You can't help it; everything fades to black.
»»————- ★ ————-««
The view when you next wake up is a complete shift to the dark but extravagant mansion you'd fallen asleep in. Everything is blinding white and purely functional; you're not unfamiliar with the set-up, but the location is new, you think. After visiting so many, the hospitals begin to blend together.
“Y/N,” someone beside you gasps, and you mentally scold yourself for not checking you were alone before you opened your eyes. Madame B will punish you for that.
No, Madame B is gone. It is only Yelena now, and she doesn't punish you anymore.
You shrink away all the same when Yelena comes into view, knowing you are the cause of her red-rimmed eyes and the dark bags underneath.
“You almost died, Y/N!” she shouts, and tears prick at your own eyes. You didn't want to disappoint her, just protect her. “I've noticed it for months but I didn't bring it up because I thought you knew better than to risk yourself like this! Missions are not the place to be reckless, what were you-”
She stalls suddenly. Your eyelids, which were previously squeezed shut, open slowly, cautiously and carefully checking for Yelena's reaction. Her face softens when you catch her eye and suddenly she's rushing forward and trapping you in a hug.
“I'm sorry, I shouldn't yell, I'm sorry. I just want to protect you, always, and seeing you like this… it's…”
She sighs, and you interrupt.
“No, I'm sorry, Yelena. This wasn't meant to stress you out or have you worrying about me. I wanted to keep you safe, you know, like you always used to do for me. And after you freed me from the serum and then everything you did to look after me afterwards, I had to find a way to thank you. And I tried all the things Google said like cooking and gifts and everything! but they didn't work, so I thought that maybe keeping you safe would be enough to express my gratitude and make us equal, even if I got hurt in the process.”
“Oh, Y/N,” the older Widow sighs again, a teary smile overtaking her face. “I know it's hard, but we're not in the Red Room anymore; not every interaction is transactional, and not every mission has to have an expendable agent. In fact, none of our missions will have an expendable agent – it's you and me as equals, alright? Both of us are surviving them and I won't have any other outcomes.”
You nod and she continues.
“You're my best friend, Y/N, and my little sister in every way but blood; I'd have done – and I still would – anything to protect you in the Red Room, but that's not how it has to work anymore. And as for looking after you goes, it's my pleasure to do it; it's not something you need to pay me back for because just getting to spend time with you and have you around is all I could ask for. Just get through this, Y/N, get out of this ward and come home, and that will be the only thing you ever need to do for me.”
»»————- ★ ————-««
You're still weak, so Yelena has her arms around you and your body is pressed into her side, but you're walking, forward and forward until you cross the threshold.
You're home.
A few weeks longer and you're back on your feet without assistance, standing next to Yelena in the kitchen as she teaches you to cook – starting easy with some basic pancakes after you said you had a craving for them in the hospital.
“Keep an eye on the pan,” Yelena instructs as her phone starts to ring in the other room, “flip it in 30 seconds if I'm still gone.”
She walks out. You set down your knife and the strawberries you had skillfully been cutting to stare directly at the pan, mentally counting down exactly from 30.
“I don't want a mission, Valentina,” you hear Yelena say from the living room. You don't let it distract you.
“Y/N is grounded from missions until they're back at full health, and I'm not going without them. I told you before, we work as a pair. That's non negotiable.”
You're flipping the pancake when Yelena walks back in, using the spatula instead of risking a pan flip. The older woman scoffs and gently nudges you out of the way so that she can take the pan back.
“Spatulas are for wimps,” she claims confidently, “let me show you some real skill.”
Both of you take a step back: you towards the door, and her towards the centre of the room, before she flicks the pan with her wrist. The pancake goes flying high into the sky, hits the ceiling, then falls unceremoniously back down to splat on the floor.
You both stare at it in silence.
“This is why I used a spatula,” you say at last.
“Maybe we should get a dog.”
“Where did that come from?”
“Well then it could eat the floor pancake.”
“Or we could just pick it up.”
“Yes, go on then,” she grins, moving forward to put the pan back on the heat and pouring more batter into it.
“Oh I would but, you know, I'm injured,” you say with false disappointment, “from when I saved your life, remember? So I probably shouldn't bend to pick it up.”
“You are a nuisance, child,” Yelena grumbles under her breath when she goes to pick the pancake up. You just grin… until the floor pancake is thrown directly at your face. You yelp and quickly dodge it; it smacks against the fridge this time so you catch it and finally put it with the food waste.
Eventually, a stack of successfully flipped pancakes fill the plate, enough for you and Yelena to enjoy your fill. Throughout the meal, you forget all about your squabble in the kitchen, and you believe Yelena had too, so when she smiles and turns to you, saying “you wanted to pay me back for the hospitality, right?” you nod earnestly.
“Then I think you can do the dishes for us both!” she continues, handing her empty plate to you before relaxing further into the couch. With a flick of her wrist, but a beaming smile on her face, she shoos you away.
“Because a gunshot and bleeding out for you isn’t enough,” you huff with a roll of your eyes, playfully kicking Yelena’s leg as you stand. “Some people are never satisfied.”