Chapter Text
Natasha had only felt this sick once before. Wanda had messed with her mind and that of the other Avengers, and it was worse for her because while for them it was a hallucination, for her it was a memory.
And Natasha is sure that if she were under any new mind spell, it would be you she would see.
Both lines go silent, and each of the four has a different reaction.
“Y/N...” Valentina continues, with the same controlled calm as before. Natasha flinches as if she had been punched in the stomach.
No one around her dared to say that name, not out loud, not like that. It was like touching something sacred with dirty hands.
But Valentina says it with an offensive ease, as if she had the right. As if she had earned the privilege of saying it.
And Natasha feels her blood boil, because no, she doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t have that right.
“Good for everyone, except for herself... that's what they told me” the woman continues without interfering, and a long silence follows “do you think she died like a hero? Tony Stark died like a hero, next week they'll name another avenue after him... that's how heroes are made. No... Y/N didn't die a hero, she died brutalized, young and scared...”
Valentina is a great manipulator, she would encourage Yelena to drink and find out whatever there was to find out... but was she really wrong?
Even with the cynical tone, as if she wanted to open the eyes of everyone in that kitchen to the cruelest reality: The world chooses who becomes a legend and who is forgotten.
Not all heroes receive recognition, your suffering was erased, and perhaps even romanticized, when in fact it was a dirty, unfair, inhumane death.
And Valentina is using this not only to shock, but to justify what she says next:
“In a way, I gave her a second chance, that's what I did... I gave her a chance to have a minimally dignified life and this is how she repays me...” the woman ponders to herself, and it is only at this moment that Natasha comes out of her trance, taking the cell phone from Yelena's hands.
“I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but don't you ever dare say that name again” she spits with a rage that she still controls.
“Ah, the Black Widow, the best of them all... what a title! I really admire your work, from villain to heroine...” the smile in the woman's voice makes Natasha hover her thumb over the button to end the call “you don't want to do that... you know, Miss Romanoff, I wonder... after all this, you must wish you had left Y/N at that flower shop”
Natasha's heart broke when she heard those words, the truth of them like a dagger piercing her chest. She wanted to hang up the call to protect herself from the raw honesty, but she couldn't.
A part of the ex-spy, a selfish part, wishes she had. It's selfish because you would still be there with a man you would never truly fall in love with, trapped by a feeling of debt and fear that you saw as cowardice.
Isaac would still be a victim and wouldn't spend Sundays at his grandmother's house with his parents and siblings, you would never find out the truth, and a part of Natasha is selfish for wishing you never had because at least you would still be alive, closing your flower shop, coming home and being welcomed by a hot dinner and the love of your child.
“Y/N wouldn't have chosen anything different” was the truth that Natasha clings to. Since you were a kid they told you that you were born to bleed, and they made sure you did it, and you did it without ever hesitating, without ever wishing for another option. And Natasha doesn't know why she's justifying herself to Valentina.
“Enough! Don't you dare talk about Y/N like that in front of Yelena again or you'll know why I carry my title... goodbye, Valentina”
“She's here” is a bad joke, the worst one of them. That's what Natasha thinks. At some point Valentina will laugh and give meaning to this pain she feels in her chest... this hope.
“I said enough” Natasha’s voice is firm, but her her fingers tremble. It's not anger, not just anger, it's panic, it's hope, it's a hole opening up beneath her feet. She wants to turn it off. She needs to turn it off. "How is this possible?" the words escape, Natasha curses herself for saying them, but it's too late.
"Your friend, Tony Stark. Genius, philanthropist... it's funny, isn't it? How the world was left... orphaned. Without direction, without its great hero. No one knew how to protect certain... precious things" the woman smiles in her voice, she's having fun. Natasha hates this, she also hates the fact that she wants to hear more, even with a knot in her stomach, even with bile rising in her throat.
"What did you do?"
"A time machine? The greatest technology in history, Natasha... left to its own devices"
"You stole the time machine" she says as if it were absurd - because it is.
“It’s not like anyone would use it. Potts is retired, raising that snot. Riri Williams? A promise, but that’s all... the world needs people willing to make decisions. Courage, Romanoff. You were so good at that...”
“Oh my God...” she doesn’t want to believe it, but she does. Because it’s the only thing that makes sense in the midst of the chaos she feels. “And what? You went back in time and kidnapped her? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?!” She’s irritated now, deeply because just the mention of it makes her feel like your image has been desecrated, your rest.
“Oh, I wouldn’t give her that much credit. But yes, I confess that the idea of having the woman who destroyed armies as the starting point of an unbeatable project caught my attention”
Natasha closes her eyes.
Because even after death, even after the sacrifice.
They still see you as just a weapon.
While she sees you in that flower shop, laughing with Isaac on your lap.
She sees you with your bloody hands and tired eyes.
She sees you falling.
And it's in that instant that Natasha understands: You're alive.
And she doesn't know whether to scream or cry.
Because the woman on the other end of the line is lying.
Or telling the truth.
And neither option is safe.
"What went wrong?" is all she can ask in a voice that barely comes out.
"Well, I'm not fucking Tony Stark... and none of my engineers are, we tried once, the answer? Successful, at least that's what we thought... but you know what's even more brilliant than time travel? Interdimensional travel”
The words fall like an earthquake.
Natasha's stomach sinks.
It's not just the absurdity of the idea. It's what it implies.
If it's not her Y/N... then who?
“You brought someone from another reality...” she whispers, as if trying to put the puzzle together with the wrong pieces. “You took someone from her own life, from a world where maybe she was at peace”
“Or maybe she was in pieces” Valentina replies, without hesitation. Natasha barely hears, her head is too full of images, sounds, the memory of the touch of your skin, the way you laughed when you forgot you were a survivor.
She wants to ask if it’s you.
She wants to hear that it is.
But she’s afraid of the answer.
“Is she the same?” the question comes out as a request.
“She reminds of you”
“That doesn’t answer my question”
“She has the same face. The same body. But... let’s say the flower shop doesn’t exist in this world”
Natasha’s heart breaks once more.
Because the flower shop wasn’t just a place. It was the symbol that you had achieved a life far from blood, from fear, from war.
If in this reality you never had that...
You're still bleeding.
"Where is she now?" Natasha's voice is firm now. Warm. Deadly.
"Oh, God knows how I wish I knew...” the woman sighs, Natasha's eyebrows furrow "wrong dimension, wrong Y/N, we didn't know anything about this version, we didn't know how... unpredictable she could be" the woman admits with a trace of shame. "I know you want to find her now, I say you should run the other way"
"We don't have time for riddles anymore, Valentina" everyone around the room is tense and confused.
“Not me either, my dear. After she catches you, she’ll come after me. That’s why I called, I want to make sure you stop her”
“Why would she come after us? It’s Y/N...” Only then does Yelena have the courage to speak, because she doesn’t like how fearful Valentina’s tone sounds when she talks about you, it’s you...
“It’s not your Y/N, well... you’re not her Yelena... in this Y/N’s universe, she was still raised by the Red Room, she still went to Ohio, she still suffered the plane crash...” the woman’s hesitation seems to last an eternity.
“But...?”
“But the day she suffered the plane crash, she also lost her Natasha and her Yelena...”
The silence that follows is thick, suffocating.
Yelena lowers her eyes, her fists clenched, she says nothing, because she knows there’s no consolation for that kind of truth.
Melina leans against the wall, as if the weight of that revelation were physical. The scientist herself wanted to understand, to calculate, to design. But her mother? Her mother only feels devastation.
Natasha takes a step back. Her hands shake. Not from fear.
From denial.
“Maybe would you like to know that this isn't the worst part?" Natasha almost feels like laughing, of course it's not the worst part, it never is.
"And what is the worst part?" as if they weren't all broken enough.
"Well, isn't it obvious? There was a reason why your Y/N became the Winter Soldier, not something emotional, like something physical. A betrayal that would change the entire course of her life... your betrayal Alexei”
The man’s name falls like thunder inside a temple.
Alexei doesn’t react immediately.
It’s as if the word “betrayal” has crossed the distance between Valentina and him in a straight and accurate line, sticking in the middle of his chest. He blinks, once, twice, and for a moment he doesn’t seem to understand. Or maybe he understands too well.
Yelena and Natasha’s eyes dart towards the man they call father, but they say nothing, no one says anything. The air is too heavy to carry words.
Melina closes her eyes, as if praying for silence, for one more second of ignorance.
Alexei steps back slightly, his shoulders tense, as if he were about to be called to contain some explosion.
The man seems to shrink before them. His chest sinks, his brow furrows. His eyes shine with a dull, defenseless glow. For the first time in a long time, he has no bravado, no jokes, no pride.
“In her world, Alexei... you didn't just cause the accident that turned her into the Winter Soldier... you caused the accident that killed Yelena and Natasha”
Valentina's words aren't spoken coldly, but they're not spoken with pity either. They just exist.
Alexei staggers back a step, as if he's been hit by an invisible punch. The silence that follows is excruciating.
Yelena looks at him with wide, glazed eyes, as if her mind is trying to shield her heart from what she's just heard. She looks small, like a child again.
Melina doesn't say anything, she just crosses her arms, but not as protection, but to contain the trembling in her fingers.
Alexei brings his hands to his face. His fingers press against his eyes, his forehead, his skull. As if he could erase something from there.
As if, with enough force, he could undo a mistake that wasn't even his direct version, but that carries the same origin: him.
“No... no...” his voice is low, hoarse and desolate. Alexei falls to his knees, without dignity or defense.
Yelena kneels beside him, she looks at Natasha, but Natasha doesn't look at anyone, her eyes fixed on the floor as if they could find a way out of this nightmare, an explanation, a reason, anything that doesn't force her to feel what she's feeling.
Natasha closes her eyes, just a woman facing a pain that doesn't belong to her... and, at the same time, belongs more than anything. In the silence that dominates the room, the sound of everyone's heavy breathing is almost deafening.
And then Valentina, with a low voice, almost giving up:
"God have mercy on us”
The call ends. But the weight of what was said, of what was revealed, remains there, hanging like a sentence. Natasha opens her eyes.
A decision begins to form behind them. Because now, more than ever, she knows: You're alive.
And you are coming.