Archive of Our Own

There’s a very, and Yelena means very, annoying beeping sound that woke her up from her much-needed beauty sleep.

She groaned, eyelids cracking open to sterile lights and the sharp tang of antiseptic in the air.

Where the fuck is that noise coming from?

Infuriated, she lifted her arm to swat at the noise only for fire to lance through her side, ribs screaming like she'd taken a direct hit from a truck, bandaged torso pulling tight with every shallow breath.

“Блядь,” she hissed through gritted teeth, head lolling back against the pillow as the pain sharpened her focus. It seemed she was back at the Watchtower’s infirmary, IV drip sticking in her arm and the steady beep of the monitor keeping time with her heartbeat.

The former Black Widow stared at the ceiling for a moment to catch her breath, trying to keep the tears that were prickling at the corner of her eyes from spilling due to the excruciating pain.

Then, she tried to recollect herself enough to recall why she was here.

Valentina had sent her to rescue hostages from an abandoned shipping port in New Jersey—a straightforward solo mission, at least on paper. Yet at the last minute, the team insisted that Bob tag along, calling it a good chance for him to ease into fieldwork, even if his powers were still unreliable.

According to Walker, he could at least be a good human shield, but Yelena did not appreciate the joke in the slightest. If it weren’t for Bob gently herding her toward the Quinjet, she would’ve had Walker on the floor by the collar before anyone could blink. Hell, maybe throw a punch strong enough to make him rethink his sense of humor, even though it was impossible with their strength differences.

Stupid super soldier serum.

Raking her brain some more, she tried to recall what happened after that.

Bob.

Where was Bob?

She swallowed, fighting back the sob that threatened when it felt like she was swallowing glass.

The heart monitor was starting to spike, the beeps climbing higher with every ragged breath. Soon, her vision started to blur, and Yelena knew she was losing consciousness again from whatever they had pumped into her.

Suddenly, a familiar silhouette moved closer.

For a heartbeat, she thought it was a hallucination. Then the shape leaned in, and she caught a faint scent of cheap cologne and something that was distantly like her childhood home. Her breath hitched when she realized it was Alexei.

Why did he look so distraught?

She was okay.

Don’t cry, Daddy, I’m okay.

She tried to form words, to ask what happened, to demand answers about what happened to Bob, but the only sound that came was a strained wheeze. He smiled in that small, soft smile she hadn’t seen since childhood and pressed a calloused hand to her hair.

“Тише, моя маленькая,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You need to rest, Lena.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she found herself following, as she did when she was a child.

By the time she awoke again, it was because of the sound of phasing.

Ava was pacing—or rather, phasing—from one wall to the other, restless energy bleeding through her every movement. She’d vanish halfway through the bulkhead, reappear a few feet away, muttering under her breath as if arguing with herself.

“You’re giving me a headache,” Yelena rasped, her voice cracking. “Pick one side of the wall and stay there.”

Instantly, the former S.H.I.E.L.D agent froze mid-step, halfway materialized through the wall before she fully phased back into the room. Her head snapped toward the bed, eyes wide. It was the first time Ava actually looked rather panic-stricken, which wasn’t a good thing at all.

How bad did she look?

Probably not as bad as how she felt, right?

“You’re awake,” she breathed, the words more relief than accusation, though her shoulders were still tight. She hesitated a moment, as if unsure whether to move closer or keep her distance. “Glad to see you decided to join us again.”

Yelena smirked weakly, every muscle protesting.

“Unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d still be dreaming about being anywhere but here.”

Ava exhaled, and it came off as half a laugh and a sigh before she finally stepped closer.

“How are you feeling?”

She snorted, trying not to exert her breath too much as she plucked the annoying heart monitor from her finger. “Exactly like how I probably look by that consoling look on your face. Which, by the way, looks terrible on you.”

Ava crossed her arms and sank into the chair beside the bed, metal legs scraping softly against the infirmary floor, and it almost made Yelena want to hurl by how loudly it seemed to her current state.

“Glad to know you’re still as lively as ever,” she retorted dryly.

If she had the energy and didn’t feel like she might hurl, she would have rolled her eyes. 

“What the hell happened?” Yelena asked, with no patience for small talk. Rather than answering, Ava paused, studying her like she was trying to gauge how much truth Yelena could handle.

“What do you remember?”

Yelena frowned.

If Ava wasn’t answering right away, that was never a good sign.

Her head throbbed as she hummed, trying to think—which was difficult when every nerve felt like it was on fire, her skull pounded with what was definitely a concussion, and whatever medication they had pumped into her veins wrapped her brain in cotton.

“Val sending me on a mission to rescue some civilians that were taken hostage and…” she started slowly. She trailed off as the memory hit, sharp and sudden: Bob’s face, the chaos, the gunfire.

Fuck.

Yelena inhaled sharply and, fueled by a surge of panic for him, began yanking at the needles and wires hooked into her. The monitor wailed in protest as Ava shot up immediately, hands reaching to stop her.

“Yelena, I don’t think that it’s best to—”

“I don’t care,” Yelena snapped, batting her away as much as her weakened state allowed. Her breath hitched, chest burning, and the room spinning so quickly that she had to close her eyes for a moment. “Where’s Bob?”

She remembered now.

Bob was keen to follow her inside rather than stay in the jet.

Convinced her that he’d be on his best behavior, and he wanted to learn, to be of help. 

However, an ambush occurred as Yelena was trying to evacuate the others.

Bob jumped in to defend Yelena from the rain of bullets and, in a moment of rage for trying to hurt her, decided to grab the leader before he could escape by basically smashing through the walls.

In the process, it destabilized the entire building, raining tons of steel beams and masonry before Bob realized what he had done. Yelena had told Bob to rescue the other civilian first and then…

She blacked out.

Refocusing her attention, she saw Ava’s face tighten, a telltale sign she was rattled.

“He’s… not in the right mind to talk to anyone right now,” she said finally, voice low and careful, eyes flicking away from Yelena’s glare.

“And you guys let him be?” Yelena shot back, her voice rising despite the stab of pain it cost her.

The room still spun, but anger was a sharper focus than any drug.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. “It’s kind of more complicated than that.”

“Ava, start talking,” Yelena growled, forcing herself upright an inch even though it felt like she might actually faint from the pain. It didn’t matter, especially not with the gnawing sensation that something was wrong settling at the bottom of her stomach. “I’m not asking again, where the hell is Bob?”

They stared at each other for a beat, and then she sighed.

“He’s down in the basement with the others.”

The others? Alexei, Bucky, and Walker?

“Why?”

She swallowed and then cursed under her breath.

“Bob asked to be locked up until someone from Wakanda can…transport a cryostasis chamber here.”

“What?”

There’s no way she could stay still now.

Her stomach churned as she pushed herself out of bed, barely able to swat Ava away.

As a matter of fact, Yelena was certain she would have face-planted onto the cold infirmary floor if it wasn’t because Ava lunged forward at the last second, phasing halfway through her arm to catch Yelena’s weight without either of them solidifying into a full collision.

“Yelena, you’re not supposed to move, damn it,” Ava hissed. Her grip was firm but trembling, not from fear, just from Yelena’s recklessness. “You’re gonna rip your stitches and bleed out before you hit the door. You suffered from four fractured ribs, punctured lung—”

“Cryostasis? For Bob?” she interjected. “Why? Tell me he’s not…”

Yelena trailed off, refusing to finish it, but Ava’s silence and refusal to answer were enough. She quickly looked out the window, doing a mental calculation. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out since Alexei visited her, but it must have been more than twenty-four hours.

Shit.

Was that why Ava was there?

To make sure she wouldn’t try to stop them?

Well fuck that.

Yelena planted her feet, stubborn fire outweighing the vertigo.

“Take me to him. Now,” she gritted out, ignoring the way little black spots danced at the corner of her eyes. It seemed she had taken a hit that was worse than she expected, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now.

She wouldn’t forgive herself if Bob went through what she thought he was going to do.

“Yel—”

“Please.”

Her one word made Ava pause.

Since they had worked together as a team, Yelena had never once pleaded for anything. As the leader, she could bark out commands, crack humorless jokes to cut tension, or stare down threats with ice-cold focus.

So to see her like this?

Ava’s resolve cracked as she nodded once, sharp and reluctant.

“Fine. But if you pass out, I’m dragging you back here myself.”

She looped an arm under Yelena’s, and together they shuffled toward the door.

The Watchtower corridors blurred past in sterile silence. Yelena’s breath came shallow, world tilting, but she bit down on the nausea through sheer determination upon realizing what was now at stake.

Bob.

She had to see Bob.

Whatever hell the mission had unleashed, she wouldn’t let him choose this route.

As they stepped into the elevator leading right now to the basement, neither of them talked, but truthfully, Yelena wasn’t sure she could without hurling. And staring at herself in the reflection, she almost recoiled.

If she didn’t know any better, it looked like she was moments from death itself.

Her face was a map of bruises, purple-black splotches blooming across her cheekbone and jaw, a split lip still swollen and crusted. Bandages wrapped her torso beneath the thin hospital gown, blood already seeping through in faint red stars where her stitches strained. Her hair hung limp and matted, eyes sunken with feverish shadows, the whole effect making her look like a ghost who'd clawed her way back from the wrong side of a grave.

“How long was I out?” she rasped.

“About twelve hours,” Ava answered.

Damn.

By the time they reached the basement, which was designed as a reinforced safety bunker—thick vibranium-laced walls to withstand bombs, alien invasions, or another end-of-the-world mess like the Battle of New York—Yelena had to physically seize tightly on Ava’s shoulder from collapsing.

Alexei, Bucky, and Walker were already there, too wrapped up with whatever was going on to notice them in the beginning. Yet it didn’t take long for Alexei’s head to snap up first, his broad frame turning with a mix of shock and raw relief flooding his face before it turned concerned again.

“солнышко?”

Bucky turned as well, metal arm glinting under the red emergency lights.

“Why is she out of bed, Ava?” he demanded.

“Fuck, she looks closer to death’s door,” Walker unhelpfully chimed in from where he leaned against the cell wall, arms crossed, his face set even though if you looked close enough, you could see the concern flickering in the tight line of his jaw and the way his knuckles whitened on his biceps.

Yelena waved off their fussing with a trembling hand, breath ragged. “Is Bob here?”

They all winced, which told her everything she needed to know.

“You told her?” Bucky asked Ava.

“What did you want me to do?” she hissed. “I told you this was a terrible idea.”

Yelena stared at the high-security containment cell that was supposedly capable of housing gods and even an enraged Hulk now. Her stomach twisted harder than her ribs at the thought of Bob in there by himself.

“Open it,” she ordered, voice steel despite the waver as she broke away from Ava and went to the door. She squinted, trying to see Bob, and her heart flipped when she saw he was still in his Sentry suit with his back turned.

His head was bowed, refusing to turn.

Shut down from the world.

Alexei stepped forward, hesitant before his daughter.

“Lena, маленький, he asked for this. He’s not safe. Wakanda’s on route with the chamber—”

“Open it,” she interrupted, eyes darting to Bucky. “Now.”

The fact that they’re now treating Bob like he was a self-detonating bomb was enough to make her blood boil hotter than the pain lancing through her side. She didn’t blame Bob in the slightest for what happened.

Because if it weren’t for him, she would have been dead, but they didn’t get the full story.

No, they all jumped to fuckin’ conclusions like Bob himself.

“Well, we would open it if we could,” Bucky maintained. “As soon as you came back, Bob locked himself inside. We tried several times to talk to him, but he refused to acknowledge us, aside from requesting to be placed in a cryo chamber, which Ayo is coming now with. He even used his powers to block the outside world out.”

“The fact his other side didn’t come out yet is a miracle,” Walker mumbled.

“Walker,” Ava hissed.

“What? I’m saying it as it is,” he sneered.

It was clear they’re all tense, the air thick with unspoken accusations and frayed nerves: Alexei pacing like a caged bear, Bucky’s fingers flexing rhythmically, Ava looking like she wanted to rip everyone a new one, and even Walker’s casual sneer not quite hiding the strain in his posture.

Yelena leaned harder into the door for support, ignoring the fresh bloom of red soaking through her bandages. She looked at the control panel, clicking her tongue loudly when her vision started to blur.

“So no one knows the code?” she questioned, hating how much of a broken rasp her voice had turned into. She watched everyone shake their heads and narrowed her eyes at the panel, numbers and symbols swimming before her.

It was human nature to go with a familiar code, something tied to muscle memory or a half-remembered habit: birthdays, anniversaries, important dates. Yelena’s mind raced despite the fog, sifting through dates in her half-dazed state.  

A sensible person would have entered random keys so that it would be nearly impossible to guess. However, she knew that even in panic, people defaulted to patterns, especially someone like Bob, who buried sentiment under layers of logic but couldn’t fully shake the human part.

Her fingers trembled over the panel as she entered a date that was special to them.

The date they decided to cross from teammates to something more after a near-death op in Prague—07-22—raw and reckless after a near-death op in Prague, when he'd pulled her from rubble, and she'd kissed him instead of saying thanks.

Her heart and head were pounding as the lights turned green after a moment. The locks disengaged with a deep, resonant clunk, heavy bolts retracting as the door hissed open on pneumatic slides.

Ignoring everyone’s stare, she practically dragged her body inside.

Fuck, how much time did she have before she fainted again?

Hopefully long enough to convince him otherwise before he did something stupid. 

As soon as she stepped in, Bob whipped his head towards her.

His eyes widened, and he jumped out of where he was seated, and Yelena almost chuckled that he looked just as exhausted as she did. His hair was sticking up in all directions like he had been running his hands through it, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Yelena,” he rasped, voice cracked like dry earth. She could imagine that he probably hasn’t eaten, drunk, or even slept since he brought them back. “No, wh-what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be in here with me.”

She snorted, staring at him head-on. “Yeah, what about you?”

He flinched at that, gaze dropping, fingers flexing uselessly at his sides like he wanted to put distance between them and couldn’t quite make himself move. Instead, she watched him fiddling with the black band on his wrist with his hand, a nervous tic of his that he never quite got out of.

“You don’t understand,” Bob forced out, throat working. “I… I lost control out there, I…I didn’t think of the repercussions, I didn’t think I didn’t think, I just reacted, like a weapon pointed and fired. I’m not safe, not around you. Not around anyone.”

“That’s bullshit,” Yelena shot back, harsher than she meant, but she didn’t have the strength for gentler. “You had a dozen chances to hurt me. To hurt others, and you didn’t. You shielded me, remember? Unless I hallucinated you throwing yourself in front of a bunch of bullets.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he said, laughing once, humorless. “This time, you got lucky. Next time…I…Yelena, I’m not going to be the reason you end up...end up...hurt again or worse. I…I could never forgive myself.”

“So you’re just going to sit here until they bring a cryo chamber?”

“It’s better this way,” he muttered, gaze falling to his shoes. “At least then…me and the…the other ‘me’ won’t have a chance to get out since I can’t die. And…w-when you guys really need me, then I can be of use again before being placed back.”

She took a shaky step closer, every inch agony, until she was within arm’s reach.

“You can’t seriously mean that.”

“I do,” Bob whispered. “I want this.”

Yelena realized how defeated he sounded, how terrified he looked, and how ashamed his eyes were, hollowed out, shoulders curved inward as if he were already half-buried in ice, the man she loved bracing for his own erasure, as if he had never mattered.

It hit her like a gut punch that he'd already made up his mind.

Bob resigned to being a weapon on pause rather than risk becoming one again.

And nothing was going to change his mind.

Though truthfully, she was about to puke. Everywhere ached, her body trembling nonstop, surprised she was even standing at the moment. Breathing hurt like shattered glass in her chest, fractured ribs grinding with every inhale, and she knew this argument was going nowhere. She was reaching the limit of her patience and whatever fragile thread was holding her consciousness at the moment.

So, she turned to face the others, staring at them through the open door.

“Fine,” she rasped, voice barely above a whisper, before turning her attention back to the others and keeping her voice stern, “Close the door, Bucky.”

“What?” Bucky and Ava exclaimed at the same time.

“Lena, no, you need to rest,” Alexei urged.

“He’s right, you’re in no position to be out of bed,” Walker upheld. “You’re being stupid.”

“Don’t care,” she sternly stated, and then turned her attention back to Bob, who was looking at her. “I told you that we stick together from now on. If you want to put yourself in that stupid box when they come, I’ll be there too.”

Bob’s face crumpled, raw panic flashing through the fog.

“Yelena, no, you can’t. You’re hurt, you have to rest, you’ll—”

“No,” she snapped. “You don’t get to make that call alone. You’re part of this team. You’re…” Her voice faltered for a second, the word catching on her tongue. “You’re mine. So if anyone gets to decide whether you go into an ice box, it’s both of us, not just you playing martyr.”

“But…what about what I want?” he whispered.

“To hell with what you want,” Yelena hissed, grabbing him by the front of his golden suit. Every word and every breath she managed out of her body came with a loud wheeze, but she ignored it. “If you want to get in there, be my fucking guest. Just know that if you go through with getting in there, I’m never, ever going to forgive you, Bob.”

Bob blinked away tears, the glassy sheen in his eyes catching the cell’s harsh light, one traitor drop escaping to track down his cheek before he could scrub it away. He swallowed, rubbing it away.

“You’re so stubborn.”

“And you love me because of it,” she mumbled. “So, guess you have to deal with it.”

She made her way to sit down on the bench where Bob had been moments before, every step a battle against the vertigo clawing at her edges. She patted the seat next to her weakly, about to tell him to sit—to breathe with her for once—when suddenly the room spun like a bad centrifuge.

Ah, shit.

Не сейчас. 

Always with the collateral damage.

Black spots swarmed her vision, and her body finally buckled like wet paper.

The last thing she registered was Bob’s face of wide-eyed horror shattering through his own fog as he lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the floor. His arms cradled her against his chest, solid and warm, calling his name as darkness swallowed her whole.

When Yelena stirred awake again, relief washed over her first. There was no incessant beeping assaulting her ears this time. She cracked her eyes open to dim light and the familiar shadows of her own bedroom, surprised they'd hauled the medical gear back here instead of leaving her in the sterile infirmary.

Good.

Her fingers twitched, and she gently maneuvered her head to see someone asleep beside her.

Bob had now changed into an oversized sweater that swallowed his frame, head awkwardly pillowed on the edge of the bed, neck cricked at an angle that looked painful. She lifted her heavy hand, running her fingers through his messy hair. Instantly, he stirred at the touch, eyes fluttering open until they locked on hers—soft, exhausted relief flooding them.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice still rough.

“Morning,” Bob replied, shifting closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you're here and not in the chamber,” she chuckled.

Bob winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “You... you have to promise me not to ever do that again, Yelena. You were bleeding internally from your injuries; you should have stayed in bed that day.”

“Mm.”

“Promise me, please,” he urged. His voice dropped softer, eyes searching hers with that quiet intensity, fingers tightening gently around her hand. Yelena eyed him steadily, her thumb brushing idly over his knuckles despite the lingering tremor in her arm.

“So long as you promise you wouldn't ever do something like that again without consulting me.”

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, thumb tracing her knuckles in slow, soothing circles, like he was anchoring them both. He bent down and kissed it, letting out a shaky breath like he might start crying again.

“Bob, I'm not mad. Well, okay, not really.” She managed a faint smirk, even as her eyelids drooped more heavily. She resisted the urge to yawn and looked around. “How…long had I been asleep for?”

“Almost two days.”

That makes sense.

“Were you with me for the last two days?”

“I was, alongside the others who took shifts, but... I didn't leave,” he admitted it like a confession, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again, raw vulnerability there. “I couldn’t…I wanted to be there when you woke up.”

“See? We're supposed to stick together from now on. I’m still waiting on that promise.”

“Okay. I promise, but…what if something like that happens again?” he asked, his brow furrowed, the fear not fully gone. “What if…I allow my hastiness to get the better of me again and end up hurting you or someone else?”

Yelena shook her head, firm despite the ache pulling at her chest.

“You won't," she affirmed sternly. 

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you, and even in that moment, you still listened to me when I told you to get the others out first before coming back for me,” she simply stated. Then, she tugged weakly at his sweater, voice fading into a tired murmur. “Now come lie down with me before I drag you down here myself.”

Bob didn’t hesitate, kicking off his slippers and sliding onto the bed beside her with careful grace, mindful of her IV lines and injuries. Yelena slotted herself against his body like they were interlocking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, with her head tucking perfectly under his chin, one leg draping lazily over his, his arm curving protectively around her waist.

She inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of him grounding her more than any drug.

Safe.

Home.

Finally.

A yawn escaped her despite her best efforts, body surrendering to the exhaustion as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his breath warm against her hair. “You know…I’m almost certain now that everyone on the team knows we’re in a relationship.”

She hummed contentedly, burrowing deeper into his chest until the steady thrum of his heartbeat drowned out the world.

“Wasn’t a secret anyway,” she mumbled, words slurring with sleep, her fingers curling loosely into his sweater. Bob chuckled softly, the vibration rumbling through her like a lullaby, his hand stroking slow circles along her back.

“Sleep, Yelena,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in days, sleep finally claimed her, soft and dreamless for once.

Commission by RoryNans on X/Twitter.