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It starts off complicated.
*
In Kate's defense, the last thing she expects as she's half falling asleep in front of the news is for a stranger in tac gear to goddamn materialize in her living room.
"Holy shit—" She half falls, half rolls off her couch, snatching her collapsible baton from the coffee table and launching herself at the stranger before they can attack first. Her first hit goes through the masked assailant, like they're nothing more than a ghost — but the hand that grabs her arm and shoves her back is very, very material. Unbalanced, Kate struggles to right herself, and uses her momentum to lunge at the stranger. This time, her baton connects with their leg, and they drop to one knee on the floor. It would be a good thing except that they're also fast as hell on top of apparently being able to dematerialize at will, and suddenly, Kate's legs are being swept from underneath her, sending her toppling to the floor on her back. She rolls, stands, and leads another charge, which once again goes right through her adversary, shooting her balance to hell. It's not helped when the apparent ghost grabs her arm and twists it back, putting Kate in a painfully tight shoulder lock. Kate struggles, trying to break free—
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Everyone calm down!"
Kate's eyes widen and she looks over her shoulder towards the voice, at the window — the familiar, accented voice.
Yelena stands at the window, hands up in a universal cool down gesture. Her hair is shorter than the last time Kate saw her, slicked back, and she's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, the look incongruously casual on her.
The stranger lets go of Kate and she stumbles a few steps away, already spinning on her heel and raising her baton—
"Kate Bishop," Yelena snaps, cutting Kate's momentum. "I said cool it."
Kate blinks, frozen mid movement. Her gaze goes from the now still stranger to Yelena, who's in the process of closing the window behind her. Once she has, she crosses her arms and turns to the masked attacker.
"I'm not introducing you to my friends if you're going to attack them," she says with a pointedly raised eyebrow.
The stranger shakes their head and their — mask? helmet? folds away, revealing a woman that's maybe a little older than Kate. She's got dark hair tied back in a low bun, light brown skin, and striking green eyes. She's also remarkably pretty, Kate can't help but notice.
"She attacked me first," she says in a low, slightly accented voice.
Yelena turns to Kate. "Did you?"
Okay. "Hi," Kate says, lifting her hands by her head in a gesture of complete, confused surrender. "Who are you, how in the hell did you materialize in my living room, and what the fuck is going on?"
A smile flits across Yelena's face. "Kate Bishop," she drawls, leaning back against the wall, "meet Ava. Ava, this is Kate Bishop."
The stranger — Ava, apparently — nods in her direction. Kate is still a little too lost to return the gesture, but the name rings a bell, and, after a moment, Kate places the face.
"You're one of the new Avengers," she says, dropping her baton on the couch.
"We're not calling it that," Ava and Yelena say at the same time.
Kate shakes her head. "Yeah, whatever, but you're one of them, right? The ones who defeated that... shadow nightmare dimension thing?" She'd been out of New York at the time, visiting Clint at the farm, but she'd heard plenty about it since then. It's been what, three weeks?
"Something like that," Yelena says, airy, like it's no big deal.
There's a pause, the only sound the TV still going in the background. Kate clears her throat. "So, uh." She glances from Yelena to Ava, and back again. "Can I... help you guys with something, or...?"
Yelena brightens. "We need to know where to find the best pizza in New York," she announces.
Kate stares.
*
It doesn't really get easier after that.
*
It's not that Kate saw Yelena that often before. She used to show up from time to time, sometimes to get Kate out of trouble, sometimes for a spar, sometimes only to get some food together. Her visits had gotten spottier, actually, as the months had passed after Christmas, until it'd become a pretty rare thing to find her lounging on Kate's couch.
She starts showing up again, after that day, more than before, even. Always unannounced, of course, and usually through the window, but Kate doesn't mind. She seems... happier than before, less down and drawn, and Kate won't lie, it's kind of a relief to see.
It's just... Ava tends to be there too, these days.
She's difficult to read, to say the least. She doesn't say much, and has a tendency to look at Kate with an intensity Kate finds a little unsettling. On the flip side, Yelena doesn't seem bothered by her taciturnity; in fact, it almost seems like they don't even need words to talk, sometimes, communicating in glances and raised eyebrows and quick half smiles.
Not that Kate minds. Or cares. She's fine. Totally fine.
Okay, so maybe there are some things she kind of minds. One, in particular, actually.
It all comes to a head on a random Sunday morning. Yelena and Ava show up at fuck off o'clock in the morning, as is their habit, through the window for the former, out of goddamn nowhere for the latter. As Kate struggles to wake herself up and makes coffee — thank god she's actually got three separate mugs now — Yelena declares that Kate's form has gone sloppy (which it has not, by the way) and that it's time to get back into practicing regularly. The statement is followed by an argument is somehow followed by the three of them moving Kate's couch and coffee table out of the way, leaving the rug free to be used as a sparring mat.
As the challenger, Yelena goes first against Kate, and it's fun — or at least, as fun as getting her ass kicked can get, which is more than Kate would have initially expected. They go a few rounds, the way they did back in the day, and Kate manages to land a few hits, even manages to win a bout, and feels altogether pretty good about it, considering Yelena moves like goddamn lightning at times. By the time they're done, Yelena concedes that Kate's form has not gone that bad, and Kate is flushed with victory and adrenaline — and probably grinning like an idiot.
That takes a hit when Ava and Yelena go a round.
Kate watches them, mouth slightly open, as they trade blows, fast enough that they blur. Yelena seems to have learnt how to work with Ava's frankly unfair advantage, and she feints, catching her with a vicious hit that makes Kate wince — but Ava wastes no time in returning the favor. They grapple, fast and hard and no holds barred, and that's the problem, isn't it? That's what Kate minds: the truth that she can't ignore anymore.
Yelena holds back when she spars with Kate.
Something in her expression must give her away, because when Yelena and Ava finish their bout, Yelena turns to Kate and frowns. "Everything alright, Kate Bishop?"
Kate forces a neutral expression — and probably does a shit job of it, based on previous experience — but the words escape her anyway. "You go easy on me."
Yelena looks stricken for a moment, before she gets her expression under control, but it's confirmation enough; it feels like a punch to the stomach. "Kate—"
Kate shakes her head. "I don't need you to hold back on my account," she says, trying to steady her voice. "I can handle it."
"Not really."
Wow. Kate has never in her life felt this shitty over two words. The flush on her cheeks is embarrassment now, mixed with a thread of simmering anger at being so clearly patronized. "Alright," she says.
Yelena closes her eyes briefly. "No, I didn't mean—"
"I think it's pretty clear what you meant, actually."
"Kate—"
But Kate is already turning to Ava, who's watching them quietly from the other side of the rug. "Spar?"
Ava turns her water bottle over in her hands, and her gaze flicks to Yelena, which pisses Kate off beyond words.
"With me," she snaps, and Ava looks back at her. For a moment, she just watches her, unreadable, but eventually, she nods, and Kate falls into stance on her side of the makeshift sparring mat.
It goes about as well as can be expected, when it comes to facing an expert fighter who can dematerialize whenever she wants. That is, Kate gets her ass handed to her on a plate, and pretty violently too — she's going to have bruises for a few days, and her head is ringing by the time they're done. She also lands precisely zero hits, which is an additional bruise on her already fragile ego.
But at least Ava does her the courtesy of not holding back; and that? That's worth more than any bruise.
*
After the sparring incident, Kate doesn't see either of them for a little while. She's starting to wonder if she should show up at the Tower — everyone knows that's where they're staying, for all their claims that they're not the New Avengers — when there's a knock at her front door one evening.
To her surprise, she finds Ava and Yelena standing in the hall. "So you do know how to use the door," she says, dry and mild, before doing a double take and taking them in.
They're both in tac gear, cuts and bruises on their faces, their hair mussed, their shoulders heavy with exhaustion. Kate's been watching the news, saw that Valentina woman talking just now, about the rogue research facility her Avengers just dismantled, and the pieces click.
"Did— Did you guys literally just come in from a job?" she asks, already knowing the answer, not quite believing it either way.
Yelena ignores her question. "You up for Thai food?"
"Seriously, don't you guys need to see a doctor or something? You look kind of rough—"
"Kate Bishop." Yelena snaps her fingers in Kate's face, which, rude. "Thai food. Yes or no?"
Kate says yes.
It's a silent, subdued affair; both Yelena and Ava look so exhausted that Kate doesn't want to risk being an extra weight with questions they clearly don't want to answer. They head to the place down Kate's street, place their orders, and sit in a booth by the window. Their food has just arrived when Yelena's phone buzzes.
She checks it and makes a face, before refusing the call. "Valentina," she says, like she's talking about a piece of gum stuck to her shoe.
But the phone starts buzzing again a few seconds later. And again when Yelena declines the call. And again. And again.
With a muttered curse, Yelena grabs the phone, stands, and heads outside, picking up as she goes. "What?" she snaps, before the door shuts behind her.
Kate pushes at her food with her chopsticks, unsure what to say. To her surprise, Ava speaks first.
"You drop your guard."
Kate looks up, startled. "Sorry?"
Ava's not looking at her, focused on her food. "When you fight," she elaborates. "You get caught up in the offense and you forget your defense. It's a dangerous mistake to make."
Ok, wow. Kate's kinda struck speechless.
But Ava isn't done. "You're talented," she says, taking a sip of water. "Just a little sloppy."
"Thanks?"
Ava smiles; it lasts a microsecond, a barely there sort of thing that somehow softens her features. "She's not holding back with you on purpose, you know."
Kate snorts. "Okay."
"No, seriously." She looks up, meets Kate's gaze, her eyes green and striking and difficult to hold. "She's just... different, with you."
"Yeah; the word you're looking for is patronizing."
Ava shakes her head. "No, not when you're sparring, just... in general."
Curiosity flickers in Kate's chest, an itch. "Different how?"
The other woman drops her gaze, pushes her pad thai around; shrugs. "Easier. Softer. Less... sharp."
Kate raises her eyebrows, but Ava continues.
"Today's job was... difficult," she says, and it sounds like an understatement, but Kate doesn't push. "But since you've been here, it's like... it's easier to carry. For her. I don't know."
Kate's gaze slides from Ava to the window, through which she can see Yelena, looking exasperated as she holds the phone to her ear. She's seemed plenty sharp to Kate, throughout all the time they've known each other, but... Ava knows her. Spends more time with her. Sees her on the job. She's got to know what she's talking about.
Ava takes a bite of food with another shrug. "That's why she goes easy on you, I think. Not on purpose, just... how it is."
"I don't want her to go easy on me, though."
A muscle ticks in Ava's jaw, but she says nothing.
Kate watches her, thoughtful. "You don't go easy on me."
Another shrug. "No reason to."
"Could you train me?"
Ava blinks, looking genuinely stunned. "What?"
"I can't get better if everyone I spar with tries to spare my feelings," Kate says, serious, meaning it. "I know you won't try. Can you train me? Help me get better?"
"I—"
The door to the restaurant slams shut, startling them both. "One day, I am going to throw that woman into the Hudson," Yelena says, sliding back into the booth next to Kate and picking up a pair of chopsticks. She fishes in Kate's bowl and steals a bite of chicken. "So," she says, glancing from Kate to Ava, and back again, "what did I miss?"
Kate looks at Ava, who's gone back to staring at her food. Her expression is perfectly impassive, betraying nothing of what just happened. "Nothing," she says.
*
Later, when Kate gets home, her phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: a gym address, a date, and a time.
*
The training is rough.
Ava really doesn't hold back, which was the point really, but when you put that together with the whole dematerialization thing, well. It means Kate is pretty much out of her depth.
She's also not one for being distracted; their sessions are all practice, practice, practice: no chit chat, despite Kate's tendency to run her mouth, even when they're fighting.
It's intense. Afterwards, Kate is always exhausted, and sore as hell — but she also knows she's getting better. Ava is a surprisingly good teacher, giving good advice, with a keen eye for every mistake Kate makes (of which there are many, apparently). Better yet, she doesn't hesitate to call Kate out on them, and always tells it like it is.
It's... refreshing. No one's ever really been honest with her — not even her own mother. Everyone's always trying to make things easier for her, thinking she won't be able to take the truth, won't be able to handle it. And so, the brash way Ava calls her form shit is a welcome change, even if it is a bit rough on the ego at times.
Ava and Yelena continue showing up at Kate's apartment; no more sparring sessions, but they show for food, or a movie sprawled on Kate's couch and rug, or, on one notable occasion, some first aid after a job gone wrong. Even Lucky stops startling every time Ava appears out of thin air — Kate never does, though. Progressively, a balance starts putting itself together. Kate wouldn't say she and Ava are friends, but they understand each other.
Neither of them mentions their sparring sessions to Yelena. Not that they discussed it ahead of time — they just don't. That works fine for Kate.
And then, one day, Kate comes home from work to find Ava, alone in her living room.
She can tell right away something is wrong: Ava's pale, and agitated, fidgeting and pacing, and she zeroes in on Kate the moment she walks through the door, with a scary intensity.
"What's going on?" Kate asks, dread building in her gut.
"Yelena."
She'd expected it, but her stomach drops all the same. She puts her backpack down and steps closer. "Where is she?"
"I don't know. I was in the quantum chamber—" Kate has no clue what that's supposed to mean "—and when I came out, there were signs of a struggle and she was gone." She shakes her head, wrings her hands, continues her pacing. "The others are on a job on the other side of the country, and I think someone used that — made their way in and took her."
"Took her?"
She lets out a long breath before facing Kate. "The job, the other day. The difficult one? It was a Red Room offshoot, working on mind control, and some of them got away. I think those people grabbed her, because she used to be a Widow."
The Red Room; mind control; Black Widows — it's all got the shape of something where Kate is painfully out of her depth.
But Ava looks panicked, and exhausted, and like whatever a quantum chamber is, it might have taken a toll. She needs Kate to be steady, and so Kate takes a deep breath and focuses. She heads to her laptop, left on the nearby kitchen counter. "Does she have a phone? Not a burner, an actual phone that she keeps."
"What?"
Kate forces her jitteriness down — tries to be cool and clipped and sharp, not emotional and rash. It doesn't come naturally to her, but she gets the feeling that's what Ava needs right now. "A phone," she says again, already pulling up the Bishop Security login page.
"Yes," Ava says eventually, coming closer. "Valentina forces us to keep a steady phone number, but what's that got to do with—"
She trails off when she catches sight of Kate's screen. Kate's entering her credentials, which, somehow, were never revoked — not that she's complaining, and after all, it's not like she uses this regularly — and the software opens, waiting for a phone number to track. "What's the number?"
Ava sharpens up, and rattles off the number. Kate enters it, sends out the search, and—
Bingo. The software dings with a location. Somewhere by the docks, a warehouse of some kind, if the map is any indication.
Some of the panic seeps out of Ava's demeanor, replaced by pure steel. "Let's go," she says.
But Kate hesitates. Thinks about calling Clint, about calling for help; what if she isn't good enough for this? What if she fucks it up?
"Hey." Ava meets her gaze, steely and urgent. "She needs us right now. She could be out of the country in an hour, or worse. We don't have time to discuss this. We need to go."
Kate swallows hard; nods. "Alright," she says, and goes to get her bow.
*
Later, Kate will remember the evening in flashes: the warehouse, dark and filled with shady black ops types; Ava's face, set in grim determination despite her exhaustion; the moonlight glancing off the water; Yelena, strapped to a gurney, an IV in one arm, her face bruised and bloodied; shouts and yells, in English and Russian; being back to back with Ava, fighting their way out with Yelena between them; the ring of a gunshot; the searing burn of a bullet grazing her arm; the piercing wail of sirens, and the blinding blues and reds of the cops closing in on the warehouse; their escape through the back alleys, each with one of Yelena's arms over their shoulders. It'll blur together, a mess of adrenaline-choked sensations and images, until the whole thing will feel like a fever dream.
But for now, Kate sits on her own couch, holding a glass of water, while Ava cleans up the bullet graze in her arm with some antiseptic from the first aid kit Clint got her last time he was in New York. She does her best not to wince at the sting, not to flinch — it's tricky, but Ava is skilled, and mercifully quick and sure of herself as she goes. The injury's stopped bleeding, which means Kate gets to skip the stitches.
It's all quiet; only a few cars drive past outside at this hour, and there are a few sirens in the distance. And of course, Yelena's breathing from the other room, pained and ragged — but maybe that's just the memory of it, that refuses to leave her brain. Just like the image of it: Yelena, dazed and confused, drugged with god knows what, barely able to stand, shivering and feverish, all but passing out on Kate's bed.
Ava swipes some gauze over the wound, cleaning it in ever widening circles. She's been quiet ever since they've returned to Kate's apartment, and suddenly, the silence is too much to bear. "Why did you come to me?" Kate asks, the words escaping her.
Ava pauses briefly, then continues her movements. "What do you mean?" she asks quietly.
"You could have gone to that Valentina woman. You would have had a STRIKE team at your disposal. Hell, you would have had every cop in New York at your disposal. So." She looks up at her. "Why come to me?"
Ava stays quiet for a long time; long enough that Kate thinks she won't answer. But eventually, she says, "I couldn't know how they'd react to a STRIKE team. They could have killed her the moment they realized they were made. I needed stealth, and a two-person operation is stealth."
It makes sense; Kate's ashamed to say that she hadn't thought of that. She nods, looking down.
But Ava continues: "And... I'm still not sure of Valentina," she says, and tapes a bandage in place over Kate's wound. She hesitates, and then: "It's in her best interest to help us now, but I don't know when or how those interests change. I couldn't be sure what she would do. I don't trust her."
Kate looks up, surprised. "But you trust me?"
Ava meets her gaze, quiet and thoughtful. "I trust that you want Yelena safe," she says eventually. She glances at the door to Kate's room, where Yelena is still dead to the world. "It's something we have in common."
Kate's throat is a little too tight, but she swallows past it. "Yeah," she breathes. "That, and terrible taste in women."
Ava laughs. It's so startling that Kate stares a little, the sound raw and exhausted, but real, almost musical. She smiles at Kate; a real, proper smile, conspiratorial and amused, and Kate's stomach flips. "Yeah," she says, shaking her head. "That too."
Kate tries to get herself together. She must be more tired than she thought, but in her defense, she did get shot at tonight. "Thank you," she says, and means it. "For trusting me that much." She gets the feeling earning Ava's trust, in any way, is no small feat.
Ava nods. "You're welcome."
Kate's about to suggest they try and get some sleep, when Ava winces. The next moment, she phases out, flickering a few times; panic spikes in Kate's gut.
"Shit," she says, holding her hands out, unsure what to do. "Are you injured? You didn't say anything, so I thought—"
But Ava's shaking her head. "No, I'm alright. It's just—" A hesitation. "I didn't get to finish my session. In the quantum chamber."
"Ok, you know I have no idea what that means, right?"
Ava blinks, looking genuinely surprised. "Oh. Right. I have molecular disequilibrium. It's what lets me do... what I do."
"That sounds... serious." Kate's never heard the term but she doesn't love the sound of it.
Ava hums. "The chamber helps. With the pain, mostly. Keeps me corporeal for longer periods of time. Especially when I've had to use my abilities a lot."
Like she had that very night. Suddenly, the exhausted, pained tension in Ava's shoulders makes a lot more sense. "You can go back to it," Kate says, and then, when Ava hesitates, adds, "I'll watch over her. Nothing will happen."
But Ava shakes her head. "I'd rather be here."
Kate isn't convinced. "You're clearly in a lot of pain right now," she points out, as gently as she can. "You need to take care of yourself, too."
"I can handle it." Kate gets the feeling she's speaking from experience, which does not help her feel better.
"I know," she says, and smiles a little, trying to be encouraging. "I'm just saying you don't have to."
Ava blinks at that, but before she can say anything, the door to Kate's bedroom opens.
Out stumbles Yelena; she's gripping the doorframe to stay upright, and her skin is still much too pale for Kate's liking. "Kate Bishop," Yelena says, and almost manages to swing her usual imperious tone, "why am I in your bed?"
Kate stands and makes her way over. "Not only were you in my bed," she says, "but you're also going back there right now."
"No, I'm not."
"Oh yes you are," Ava says, standing and crossing her arms as she watches her and Kate.
"See?" Kate asks brightly. "You're overruled." With a firm hand at Yelena's elbow, she turns the woman around and guides her back to the bedroom. It's much too easy to push her down to sit, then lie onto the bed, a sure sign that Yelena's still out of it. Ava follows at a short distance, saying nothing.
Yelena's head lands against the pillows, and she squints at the two of them. "You both look terrible," she announces. Her gaze zeroes in on Kate's bandaged arm. "Kate Bishop, did you get shot at?"
"Long story," Kate says, because she is not in the mood for a lecture. "For tomorrow. For now, sleep."
Yelena raises an eyebrow. "You sleep," she declares and, with a surprisingly strong tug at Kate's wrist, unbalances her until she topples over onto the bed with a small yelp, facedown into a pillow.
By the time Kate manages to flip over and come up for air — how did Yelena even manage that, she's drugged up and has no leverage — Yelena's shifted to the side of the bed, and is signaling at Ava to come closer. "You too, Starr," she says imperiously.
Ava takes a step back. "I'm good," she says. "I'll keep watch."
Yelena rolls her eyes. "No need. I've got security on this apartment."
"You what—" Kate starts to ask, but gets shushed.
"Non negotiable," Yelena says, and gives Ava a look. "Come on."
Ava approaches — looking a little like the bed is a nest of snakes, but still. She looks even more tired in the low light, drawn and small, and Kate's heart clenches a little at the sight. She shifts to make room and holds out a hand in an invitation.
Ava doesn't move to take it, but Yelena gets impatient; her hand strikes out and snags Ava's wrist and she pulls the same maneuver she did on Kate, unbalancing her so she comes toppling down over the mattress.
After that, there's a bit of a blur of movement and tangled limbs as they all try to get comfortable in spite of Ava's suit and their various injuries, but they work it out eventually, Yelena in the middle, Kate against the wall, Ava on the side of the door. There's a few more creaks and groans as the bed settles, and then quiet.
Kate listens; to the cars driving past, to the air whistling through the badly insulated window, to Yelena's breathing, as it slowly evens out into sleep. Once it's deep and regular, she looks over, and catches Ava's gaze. They trade a glance; a smile.
And, as sleep starts to drag her under, Kate thinks that, maybe, this doesn't have to be so complicated after all.