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1.
A few weeks after the fall of the Red Room, Yelena's trip to free chemically subdued widows brought her to New York. It took her longer than she expected to locate the safehouse her sister was staying at. It shouldn't have surprised her, Natasha had always been the best of them. Yelena was peripherally aware of the fact that Natasha was a searched criminal in the United States more than in any other country. She couldn't help but wonder what the reason was for her to be back anyway. So, she decided to pay her a visit.
She climbed up the side of the nondescript building, using the night darkness as a cover, and silently picked the lock in one of the windows. She stepped into the bedroom, where the only personal touches she could see were the dirty clothes thrown on the floor and the unmade bed. Yelena made a face, but continued to step towards the only light she could see inside the apartment. As soon as she peeked into the living room, she heard the sound of a gun being cocked. Natasha was standing halfway in front of a woman who was sitting on her couch, her gun pointing right at Yelena's head. It took her a second to recognize Yelena, but when she did, she scowled and lowered her gun.
"Yelena, what the hell? Are you trying to get shot in the head?"
"Glad to see you too, sister. Yes, I'm fine, thanks for asking," Yelena said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She smirked at her sister's annoyance. It never got old. She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, peering inside. "Ugh, how do you live like this?"
"Takeout," her sister answered dryly, not a hint of shame in her voice.
Yelena took a jar of pickles out of the fridge, one of the only edible things she could see, and started eating one. When she walked back into the living room, Natasha was standing beside the couch, arms crossed, and the other woman was eyeing her warily. The coffee table in front of them was littered with what looked to be official documents.
"You can't just break into my apartment, Yelena!"
"Watch me," Yelena smiled.
She leaned against the doorway and continued chewing on the pickle. Her gaze lingered on the woman still sitting on the couch. She had a military background, Yelena could tell from the way she carried herself. Aside from that, the reason for her being there certainly had something to do with the papers strewn on top of the table. Natasha noticed her gaze and sighed, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that telling Yelena off was only encouraging her.
"Yelena, this is Maria Hill. Maria, this is my annoying little sister."
"Oh, you're that Maria Hill. The SHIELD one."
Yelena tilted her head to the side, trying to reconcile her mental image of the woman who had been second in command of an espionage division with the one sitting on her sister's couch. They weren't conflicting images per se, but Yelena hadn't known the woman was close to her sister. She tried to decipher what the documents on the table were, but she was standing too far away from it to tell.
"Yes, that's me," the woman admitted, giving her own assessing glance to Yelena. "I've heard a lot about you."
"Oh, have you?" Yelena smirked and looked at her sister again. "Miss me much, sister?"
"Not at the moment, no."
Yelena chuckled, then bit into another pickle. Maria tried to hide a disgusted expression, much to Yelena's amusement.
"So, what are you up to?" She finally asked. Sue her, she was curious.
"Preparing for my trial," Natasha explained. "Maria's giving me a hand."
"You know you could just go back to the farm, yes? No need to be in the US."
Natasha shrugged, but hesitated before responding.
"It's where I had my first home, after Ohio," she said, giving Yelena a meaningful look. "I don't want to lose that."
Yelena felt emotion tighten her throat at the reminder of their childhood together meant to Natasha. At the confirmation that Natasha was willing to go through a trial to have to stop sneaking around. She felt a surge of protectiveness overcome her, and leveled Maria with a threatening look.
"Can you keep my sister safe, Maria Hill? I can break her out of prison, but if I have to, it won't be pleasant for you."
"She won't go to prison," she answered, the serious certainty in her voice reassuring Yelena in a way that not many other people had ever managed. She was starting to see why the woman had earned her position. Yelena nodded. Then, she turned to Natasha once again.
"There's a widow that's been sighted in the city."
"Do you need help?" Natasha offered seriously. Yelena appreciated it. She knew that helping in such a matter would not be beneficial to her, if she truly wanted to attend a trial.
"No, there's someone else who's coming to give me a hand tomorrow."
It was usually a job for two people, the chemically subdued widows too dangerous to face one on one. At the moment, Yelena just needed a place to crash. Natasha seemed to understand.
"You can take the bed, we're not finished here yet, anyway."
Yelena nodded, then leveled one last look at Maria. If Natasha trusted her enough to bring her to her safehouse, she supposed the woman couldn't be that bad.
"It was good to meet you, Maria Hill."
"You too."
Yelena nodded her goodbye to both of them and left the open jar of pickles on top of the coffee table, closing the door of the bedroom behind herself. The soft sound of conversation started again soon after, and Yelena easily drifted off, safe in the knowledge that her sister was nearby.
2.
Yelena heard about Natasha's trials granting her pardons from a TV program. Frankly, she was offended. She decided to visit again, partly to complain about being left out of the loop by her sister, partly to congratulate her. She was glad it had worked out, but not really surprised. Yelena had looked up everything she could on Maria Hill after her last visit, and she begrudgingly admired the woman. She could see why Natasha liked her.
She used the same method to get in as the last time; she waited until it was dark outside to sneak in through the bedroom window. The lights of the living room were on, but unlike the last time, she could hear some kind of noise coming from further inside. Yelena walked towards the noise, trying to decide whether she was hearing a conversation or simply muffled music coming from the kitchen. There, the lights were also on, a mouthwatering aroma filtering through the open door. Either her sister had finally learned to cook, or she wasn't alone. Curiosity got the best of Yelena.
The moment she peeked in, she wished it was a gun pointed at her that she saw. It was Maria Hill again. The woman had her sister backed into the kitchen counter, trapping her with a hand on either side of Natasha. They were kissing. The split second it took them to notice her presence and step away from each other was enough for Yelena to know.
The person who'd helped her sister win the trials was trapping her against the counter, kissing her. Was this the payment she demanded? How had Natasha not told her anything? They'd both lived in the Red Room, but they weren't anymore. Memories of guards and superiors ordering her around, of them rewarding her, punishing her... It didn't matter which it was, whether the hands on her left bruises behind or seemed gentle on the outside. She could never say no. Yelena wouldn't allow her sister to go through that. Not after they'd destroyed the Red Room. They were supposed to be free. Yelena saw red.
She watched it all unfold from her eyes, as if she was watching a scene from a movie. Her body moved on instinct, too fast for either of the other women to stop. She grabbed one of Maria Hill's hands, twisting it behind her back. She needed to get her away from her sister. She needed to free her. The woman cried out, trying to twist out of Yelena's grasp. She was strong. Yelena had fought stronger people. She pushed Hill back and away, against the opposite wall of the kitchen, and laid her forearm on the back of her neck, pushing her against the hard surface. Her hold on the woman's wrist was unyielding, the way she slammed her against the wall utterly violent.
"Get away from her! You will not touch my sister! How dare you use her, how fucking dare you?" She said, words coming in Russian, frenetic and uncontrolled. "She doesn't owe you! I will-"
"Yelena!" Natasha cut her off. Yelena realized it wasn't the first time her sister had called out her name. "Let her go, sister. Yelena, stand down!" Her final words matched Yelena's tone, harsh Russian reminiscent of the orders she had been given for most of her life.
Yelena gasped in a sorely needed breath, her grip on Maria loosening on instinct.
"Listen to me, sister. She did not attack me. She is not harming me, I promise."
"But-"
"No. Dreykov is gone, sister. The Room is gone. No one will harm us like that again. Please, Yelena, let her go."
Natasha's hands were carefully laid on her shoulders, gently urging her away from the woman she had pinned to the wall. Yelena's hands trembled with unreleased tension as she finally let go. Maria Hill was not Dreykov. Her sister was all right. To her horror, Yelena felt her eyes well up. She turned away from both the other women, trying to compose herself, to compartmentalize thoughts that were jumbled up with memories and nightmares. She distantly heard Maria gasping for breath and Natasha checking her over. Yelena was too busy trying to control her trembling hands, though, doing her best not to fully break down. Natasha could take Maria Hill down with no problem, Yelena logically knew that. She also knew that depending on the situation, that didn't matter at all. If the woman had demanded payment for her help... Gentle hands could be as harmful as violent ones, when one couldn't say no. Yelena knew that all too well. She felt Natasha's gaze fall on her a moment before her sister spoke up.
"Yelena? Are you okay?"
Yelena swallowed, trying to get her feelings under control. Her sister's worry for her felt undeserved. She turned back to watch them. She just needed to make sure her sister was safe. The thought of her having to... No. Yelena couldn't stand it.
"Why did you kiss her?"
"Because I wanted to."
The honesty in Natasha's voice was what finally brought Yelena back from the dark turn her thoughts had taken. She knew people kissed others because they wanted to sometimes. It just wasn't what Yelena was used to. Not yet. She was happy for Natasha, glad to know her sister was finally at a point where she could.
"Do you promise?"
The words felt childish and pathetic as they left her mouth. Yelena couldn't bring herself to take them back, though. She needed to make sure. Natasha stepped closer to her, eyes soft and deeply sad.
"I promise."
She drew Yelena in for a hug. Yelena allowed herself to melt into it, burying her nose in the crook of Natasha's neck. She normally wouldn't allow herself such a show of emotion, especially in front of a stranger. Yelena knew, though, if Natasha trusted Maria enough to allow her into her space, to want to kiss her... She knew she could trust Maria too. They stayed like that for close to a minute, until Yelena had finally relaxed once again. Then, Natasha stepped back enough to look her in the eye as she spoke once again.
"Go sit down on the couch, hm? I'll bring you dinner."
Yelena nodded, then stepped out of the kitchen. With the door open, she could keep Natasha and Maria in sight at all times from her seat on the couch. They spoke quietly enough that Yelena couldn't tell what they were discussing. She saw as Maria rubbed at the shoulder she had twisted and couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse. After a few minutes, both women came into the living room carrying three plates of food, water and cutlery. It was some sort of chicken with tomato sauce, definitely the source of the heavenly smell she had noticed as she came in. She braced herself for a second, then spoke up.
"I'm sorry about hurting you, Maria Hill."
"I understand it was triggering for you. No harm done."
Yelena felt shame bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She looked down at the food on her plate. Losing control like that shouldn't happen to her. She was supposed to be better.
"There were several times when I was back from the Room when I almost killed people by accident," Natasha said. Yelena looked up again, surprised. "I once attacked Clint because he approached me from the back. Gave him a concussion before he could even react. It'll get better."
"Thanks," Yelena answered, still uncertain. She smiled faintly and let her empty stomach take hold of her. She took a bite out of the chicken on her plate and her eyes immediately widened. "Oh my God, what? How is this so good?"
Natasha laughed openly and Maria smiled, clearly satisfied.
"Better than mac and cheese, right?" Natasha asked smugly. Yelena reluctantly nodded. It was high praise coming from her. Then she looked at the woman who was clearly behind the delicious dish.
"I like you," she gave her approval, her mouth still half full.
"Well, if I have your approval..."
"Ha! Still a long way from that, Maria Hill."
"How do you know it wasn't me who cooked that?" Natasha interrupted them, crossing her arms over her chest. Yelena and Maria shared a look, then both snorted.
"When did you become funny, sister?"
"See if I ever make you mac and cheese again..." Natasha answered, still feigning offense. Yelena smiled, the tightness in her chest unfurling slightly.
She started eating in earnest, then, no other words leaving her mouth. Only once she finished did she speak up again.
"Congrats on the pardons, sister. You know, you could have told me. I heard from the TV."
"I'm sorry, it's just been a bit chaotic lately."
"It's fine, you can just say you don't care about me," she said, dramatically putting her hands over her heart. Natasha rolled her eyes.
"You can take the leftovers."
"Yes!"
Yelena smiled triumphantly, taking it as the peace offering it clearly was. She eyed Maria Hill, who was sitting down next to Natasha on the couch. They’d sat down just far enough from each other that they weren’t touching. Yelena hated that she was grateful for it, despite everything. Still, she wanted to have a talk with Maria Hill. It looked like she had a job to do before she left New York. Natasha didn't allow Yelena and Maria to be left alone that night, but Yelena was certain that it wouldn't be that hard to find a moment to have a conversation with the woman. She slept on the couch of her sister's apartment and was gone by morning.
3.
The following day, she waited outside of Stark Tower. She knew that was where Maria Hill currently worked, which was annoying. The security was so high, she would need to scout and form an entire plan before being able to ambush her there. It was something she could easily pull off, but Yelena felt like there was no need, really. Maria Hill was probably aware enough of her skillset, so she didn’t need to show off. She waited until it was close to lunch break and used her burner phone to type a message to Maria's number. She had stolen it from Natasha's phone the previous night. She hoped to be away from the city when her sister found out about that, though.
She typed the name of the bar she was in and signed it with 'Y.B'. She knew curiosity would do the rest. If Maria turned out to be involved in an emergency, which was far less likely with her job at Stark Industries than with the job she used to have, Yelena would ambush her on her way back from work. She'd rather avoid following the woman in the dark if she could, though. Maria Hill was sure to have a gun on her.
About ten minutes later, Yelena saw her coming into the bar. When Hill sat across from her, Yelena pushed a beer towards her.
"I'm on the clock."
"It's got no alcohol," Yelena said, a grimace appearing in her face, like it hurt her to say those words. A reluctant smile pulled at the corners of Maria's lips.
"You know, I expected this conversation to involve more sharp objects and less friendly drinks..."
"Just because you don't see them doesn't mean they're not here, Maria Hill," Yelena sassed back, frowning as if disappointed. She knew that Hill was probably more than aware of that fact.
"Should I be worried that this is poisoned?" The other woman tilted her head towards the drink in front of her. Yelena snorted, the frown disappearing from her face as fast as it had appeared. Her smile was strained, though, clearly fake. It was intended to look fake.
"Maybe. Should I be worried about my sister?"
Maria took a sip out of her beer, not hesitating once. Then she put it down on the table and schooled her expression into something serious.
"I love your sister," she admitted easily, her gaze never once faltering. "I've spent a long time looking out for her, I'm not about to stop now."
Yelena tilted her head to the side, not allowing a hint of approval into her expression. Maria returned her inscrutable gaze, not at all rattled by her.
"So you're what, dating?"
"Yes," Maria answered. "I'm sorry that was how you found out."
Yelena's gaze hardened. She felt a stab of shame once again, at knowing that this woman had seen her lose control.
"You'll be even more sorry if I ever find out you hurt her."
Maria nodded solemnly.
"I have no plans to ever hurt her."
They shared one last serious look and then Maria averted her eyes, took a drink from her beer. Yelena appreciated the honesty. She took a drink out of her own beer, finishing the remaining half of it in one go. Then, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Maria was looking at her with an amused twinkle in her eyes.
"I thought Natasha and you weren't related."
Yelena shrugged, and couldn't help but smile as she answered.
"We're both Russian."
Maria smiled back at that and drank another sip of her beer. Then, she cleared her throat before looking at her watch.
"Look, I have to go back to work. Maybe swing by later, we can continue this talk."
“Maybe,” Yelena agreed. "Goodbye, Maria Hill."
She stayed seated in her booth long after Hill had left the bar, pondering her offer. A new message illuminated the screen of her burner phone. Maria had sent her an address. Well, at least she wouldn't have to figure that one out by herself.
When the night fell that same day, Yelena found herself looking up at an apartment building close to Stark Tower. She'd done two tours of the city block already, trying to gather her guts. Why was she there? She didn't need to spend time with Maria Hill, she didn't need to be her friend. She took a breath. Yelena had taken no missions where she had to assess a mark since she got out of the Red Room. She refused to start now. She did like Hill, though. Maybe getting to know her wouldn't be that bad. Some more threatening could never go amiss, either.
Absurdly, Yelena ended up walking towards the portal instead of looking through the windows to find a good spot to sneak in. She had already caused really bad impressions on her the first two times they met each other. What was one more? The part of her that somehow wanted Maria to like her ended up winning, though. Yelena pushed the button on the intercom. The buzzing of the door unlocking almost made her jump, as she reached out for the knife hidden under her jacket. She took another breath, then looked around subtly before getting in. Yelena took the stairs up, mentally taking stock of the weapons she had on her, of the corners that could be used to hide in and the ways out. That was one habit she would never get rid of.
Maria's door was open and she was leaning against the doorway, in jeans and a t-shirt. She had her hair loosely tied back and that, paired with the clothes she had on, was the most casual Yelena had ever seen her. She supposed it wasn’t really a high bar. The smell of cheese drew Yelena closer. She was already starting to suspect where it came from. Maria took a step back and let Yelena in.
"Very classy, Maria Hill," she commented, as she took in the impeccable order of the apartment.
"Thanks," Maria answered absentmindedly. "Natasha said something about mac and cheese last time, right?"
"You've made me mac and cheese?" Yelena turned to look at the other woman, almost gaping.
"Yeah," Maria shrugged. "Don't tell any of my employees, though. I have a reputation to maintain."
Yelena snorted a laugh, then paused to consider Maria for a moment. The woman had opened her home to her, had bothered to meet her in the bar and prepared her one of her favorite foods for dinner. Maria walked to the kitchen and guided Yelena to the living room, giving her a plate of the mac and cheese. They both sat down on the couch. Then, Yelena didn't waste any time before digging in.
"If you're trying to blackmail me into liking you, it's working," she commented with her mouth full.
"That was my master plan all along."
Yelena gave into the urge to smile and set out to devour the rest of her dinner. Maria left her to it, checking something on her phone in the meantime. When she finished eating, barely minutes later, Yelena set the plate on the coffee table
"You better keep your promises, Maria Hill. Now I know where you live."
"I won't break them," she said, certainty in her tone, in her every nonverbal gesture. "It was nice meeting you, Yelena."
Yelena blanched out, all ideas of new ways to threaten Maria flying out of her mind after hearing the genuine comment. She nodded awkwardly and got up.
"Farewell, Maria Hill."
The moment Maria saw her heading for the window, she spoke up.
"Please, use the door."
When Yelena jumped out of the window, she heard Maria Hill's long suffering sigh and laughed.
4.
Months later, Yelena found herself visiting New York again, just to get away from the farm and the other widows for a while. She needed to ask Natasha, because none of the other widows were close enough to her. None of them seemed like they would understand either, based on what Yelena had seen so far. How could they have moved on from what the Red Room had done to them so quickly? Why were its effects only lingering on Yelena?
She had stumbled across some widows talking about people they had slept with since they were free, about the fact that one of them had started a relationship with a man she had met during one of their missions to free another widow. They were all moving on and Yelena was stuck. So, even widows who'd been chemically subdued could. Why couldn't she?
Yelena rang the doorbell, too deep in her thoughts to bother with climbing to the window. She walked up to Natasha's apartment in a daze.
"Yelena?" A green eye peered from the cracked open door. Natasha unlocked it and flicked the security switch of her gun on, leaving it on the table next to her.
"Natalia. I need to talk to you."
It was a testament to how distressed she must look that Natasha didn’t comment on her use of the Russian name. Her sister guided her to sit down on the couch and took a seat in front of her, on top of the coffee table. The brush of their knees together was a comforting touch that Yelena used to ground herself while gathering the courage to speak up.
"I think the Red Room broke me," she spoke, voice weak and pathetic, eyes welling up despite her best efforts to remain stoic.
Natasha frowned, leaned in to reach for Yelena's hands with her. She didn't comment on the fact that Yelena's hands were in cold sweat, just tangled their fingers together in a familiar gesture.
"It broke us all a little. We can rebuild ourselves, Yelena, you know that."
"But I can't," Yelena took a breath, trying to find the words. "Like how you have a girlfriend and you kiss and you do couple stuff and I can't."
Natasha's gaze was open and understanding as she tilted her head to the side. It made Yelena want to scream and break something.
"Do you want to?"
"No. That's the problem. All the other widows can and I can't want that," she explained, voice uncomfortably rough. "Why? I want to want that, sestra. They took half of my childhood, how can they also take this away from me?”
A single tear fell down Yelena’s cheek, despite her best efforts. Each word that she said only seemed to make the stinging in her eyes and the choking sensation in her chest worse. Natasha’s eyes softened, and she looked sad. Not pitying, not disappointed, just plainly sad. The feel of her calloused thumb wiping away the tear, the softness of the gesture making up for the roughness of her hands, only made Yelena want to cry harder. She swallowed up the sobs that wanted to tear through her.
“Yelena…”
“Maybe I just don’t deserve it,” Yelena interrupted her. Now that she had started to speak, she couldn’t seem to stop. Thoughts that had been plaguing her for so very long, whether she was conscious about it or not, seemed to spill from her lips. If they stayed unvoiced, Yelena feared that they would build up inside her until she burst from the inside out. “I’m not good, I don’t- “
“You are.”
The certainty in Natasha’s tone snapped Yelena out of her spiraling thoughts. She looked into her sister’s eyes and held on.
“Yelena, you are good. The first thing you decided to do once you were free was to help others. They made you do bad things, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”
Yelena felt her own face twist with a silent sob. Natasha didn’t even stop speaking. She just leaned in and wiped her tears away, her hands warm on Yelena’s cheeks.
“They took so much from us, but we’re still us. Even after everything,” Natasha seemed to take a longer breath before she continued. “The first time they caught me kissing a girl, they made us fight to death. Then they locked me up in solitary for a week… With her body in the room.”
Yelena felt herself frown in righteous anger, the emotion overriding everything she had been feeling until then. She wanted to go back and make them pay, even though they were all dead. Instead, she reached up for her sister, holding onto her arms and leaning in until their foreheads were pressed together.
“I’m sorry.”
“It didn’t change me,” Natasha finished weakly. “I don’t think what they did changed you either. If you don’t want something, you can’t be missing out by not having it, sestra.”
“Can’t I? You all seem so happy. I want that too. I want someone to love me…”
“I love you.”
Yelena didn’t bother to hold back her tears after that.
By the time the sun had set, Yelena found herself laying on Natasha’s bed and staring at the ceiling, sleep elusive. Her sister had insisted on her staying the night, and Yelena had been unable to refuse. There was always a part of her that seemed to unfurl when she knew her sister to be close by, a feeling of safety settling over her that she didn’t seem to get anywhere else. Slowly, she allowed herself to relax into the mattress. As sleep began to overtake her, Yelena was awakened by the sound of someone opening the door of the apartment. For a moment, Yelena couldn’t help but reach for the knife hidden under her pillow. Then, she took a moment to think. No attacker would come in through the front door of the apartment, much less use keys. As she heard the muffled sound of a hushed conversation through the door, she sighed in relief. It was just Maria.
Still, she resigned herself to at least another half hour of staring at the ceiling until the rush of adrenaline provoked by what she had thought (idiotically) was an attack dissipated. She heard the sound of the microwave, silverware and plates being moved around, in between bits of conversation the words of which Yelena couldn’t discern. Slowly, she felt herself relax once again, the background sound of Maria having dinner with her sister strangely soothing. After close to half an hour, Yelena heard a set of footsteps getting closer to the door of the bedroom. There was a knock on the door, soft, so as not to disturb her if she were sleeping. Yelena sat down on the bed, her knife well within her reach, and waited. As the door cracked open, she saw her sister peek in. Yelena felt her own shoulders drop in relief. Natasha’s face held a question, but she seemed hesitant. It was a rare thing to see in her.
“Yelena?”
“Yeah?”
Natasha came into the room and took a seat on the bed beside Yelena.
“I think you should tell Maria what you just told me,” she blurted out.
“What?” Yelena asked, bewildered. Natasha knew just how hard that conversation had been for her, so why would she ever…?
“She can help. Please, trust me, sestra . She can help you better than I can.”
Yelena wanted to keep questioning Natasha. She wanted to laugh and cry and run away, because she had never signed up for telling Maria anything at all. She did trust Natasha, though. If her sister thought it would be good for her… Well, Yelena would be hard pressed to find anyone she would trust more than her sister.
“Can you tell her?” Yelena found herself asking. She hated how weak her voice sounded, but she wouldn’t take it back. Natasha seemed about to argue, but in the end, she just nodded.
“Okay.”
She looked at Yelena with a half-smile on her lips and leaned in to kiss her forehead. Yelena’s breath stalled in her chest at the tender gesture, and she couldn’t help but smile. It was such a strange feeling, at least to Yelena; the warmth that pooled in her chest and somehow made her feel like it would all be okay. It felt childish. But, then again, after the life she’d had, Yelena thought that she was entitled to at least a bit of childishness. Natasha pulled back, a twin smile at her lips that made Yelena feel like she understood. Then, her sister got up and headed out of the room, back into her living room. The sound of a hushed conversation picked up again, and Yelena tried to ignore the nervous pounding of her heart as she waited.
Some minutes later, she heard another set of footsteps get closer to the door before Maria appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, loose hair and rolled up work shirt complimenting the tired look in her eyes. She probably thought that she hid it well, but Yelena could tell that it had been a long day for her as well.
“Can I come in?”
Yelena shrugged, but Maria didn’t come into the room. She might not have seen the gesture, but most likely, she was waiting for a clear answer.
“Yes,” Yelena said in the end, voice rough and with a mildly irritated edge to it.
Maria walked in, leaving the door of the room half open. The light coming from the living room illuminated the room just enough for them to be able to see each other as Maria leaned into the wall next to the bed, keeping her distance. She seemed to pause for a moment, before speaking in a soft, low voice.
“I thought I was broken for a long time. I thought that I had been broken,” Yelena felt her stomach tie itself into knots as she listened, not really surprised about the direct approach Maria was taking. It felt easier to know that at least she wasn’t going to beat around the bush. “My father was… not the kindest man. He marked me in more ways than one. And I thought for years that he’d broken me.”
Yelena didn’t know how to feel at the confession, at such a personal thing being laid out in the open, being revealed to Yelena without any sort of coercion or torture taking place. She didn’t know how to feel about the similarities in their experiences, about the fact that Maria was dating her sister, despite everything.
“I fell for other women, sure. But if I had to go anywhere further than a kiss, I panicked. So, I thought I was broken, and I thought he had done it to me.”
“But I don’t,” Yelena interrupted. “I don’t fall in love with people. I can’t have that.”
Because, as broken as Maria thought that she’d been, it didn’t compare to Yelena’s experience. Not really.
“Is that really a bad thing?”
Yelena just huffed in response.
“Well, that’s easy for you to say, Maria Hill. You got over it in the end.”
“I’m still not sexually attracted to anyone,” Yelenna wrinkled her nose at that, despite herself.
“But you’re dating my sister,”
Maria just shrugged, then answered like it was the simplest thing in the world, “I’m romantically attracted to her. I’m in love with her. I’ve learned that I’m not broken, this is just who I am. I’m asexual. Some people aren’t romantically attracted to anyone either. They’re aromantic. Some people aren’t sexually or romantically attracted to anyone, they’re aromantic and asexual.”
Maria’s words hung in the air for a few seconds as Yelena’s brain scrambled to make sense of her words. If there were other people like her, if it was common enough to have a name, then that meant that it had not been the Red Room that made her like that. It was just who she was, just like Natasha.
“I can lend you some books or send you some online resources to look into it, if you want. Just know that you’re not alone.”
Yelena took a few seconds to calm down, trying to make it seem like she was just thinking. Inside, though, she was being bombarded by conflicting emotions.
“Am I that thing? Aromantic and asexual?” She asked, trying to sound plainly curious, and not like she was hanging on every word out of the other woman’s mouth. The words felt heavy on her tongue, laden with a meaning that Yelena still didn’t know how to feel about.
“Only you can know.”
Yelena repressed the urge to frown. It made sense, but it was irritatingly cryptic anyway.
“Thanks,” she said, voice trying to sound nonchalant and failing spectacularly. She would have been beaten up for that in the Red Room. Beaten up or worse. Yelena reminded herself that she wasn't there anymore as she took in the silhouette of Maria leaning against the wall. There was a new feeling of kinship growing in her chest, as she realized just how completely understood the conversation had made her feel.
“Anytime.”
Maria walked out of the room and the sounds of soft conversation ended up lulling Yelena to sleep. When the morning came, the only sign that she’d been there at all was the unmade bed and a gap in the bookcase.
5.
Finding her was only slightly easier than finding Natasha had been. The thought felt heavy as it settled on her chest. Moscow’s weather was cold and unrelenting, familiar in a way that didn’t help her feel much better. Yelena stretched out her hand and trailed her fingers through Fanny’s soft fur, doing her best to stay grounded in the present.
The park was beautiful in the golden light of dawn, green and shimmering water and a solitary figure seated on a bench, steam slowly rising from the cup in her hand. She hadn’t aged a day. But, then again, neither had Yelena. There were new lines forming around her eyes, though. Grief and stress and too many responsibilities resting on the shoulders of someone struggling not to fall on her knees. Yelena knew how that felt. Yelena knew it far too well, knew too much of her grief to pretend like she didn’t understand right down to her bones. She tried to speak, but words stuck on her throat. Everything she could say, they both understood. Everything she wanted to say felt too monumental to be conveyed through something as simple as words.
Yelena sat down next to the woman and focused on breathing evenly, sat forwards with her elbows resting on her knees, petted Fanny; all of it an excuse not to look her in the eye.
“Why Russia?”
“I speak Russian. Agents were needed in Russia.”
Her voice sounded rough from misuse, her tone flat and emotionless, on the surface. Yelena heard what she wasn’t saying, then promptly wished she hadn’t. Natasha taught me. Yelena nodded and swallowed thickly.
She half wondered if Maria would ask questions of her own, got her answer in the form of thick, heavy silence stretching out. She hadn’t known Barton when Natasha… before . Hill was different; too much like Yelena in all the ways that mattered. She knew she would understand the way no one else could.
“I almost killed Clint Barton.”
“Almost?”
“He… he knew our whistle.”
Maria hummed, a stall while she got her bearings.
“I’m not surprised. They were joined by the hip in the early days. And later too, I guess.”
Yelena felt those words like a punch in the gut. Everyone had gotten more time with Natasha than she had. Somehow, she found herself unable to resent Maria for it.
“How were they?”
“Fucking unbearable.”
Yelena shifted until she could look at Maria. There was the tiniest smile at the corner of her lips, fondness and irritation and desperate sadness. Yelena found herself smiling as well, despite the itch of forming tears in her eyes.
“Miss her too?”
“Always,” Maria answered, and it was heartbreaking certainty. She shook her head, tried to will back the good humor in her voice and only half-succeeded. Yelena appreciated the effort regardless. “Did you know she would come home from a mission and leave her bloody clothes all over the floor for me to pick up?”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm-hm…” Maria breathed in, and Yelena heard it waver. The smile on her lips was strained and her eyes were miles away. “Isn’t it stupid that I miss that, too?”
Yelena didn’t have an answer. Maria leaned forward, letting her question hang heavy in the air, and let Fanny smell her fingers. She petted the dog gently behind the ears and seemed to smile despite herself. Yelena felt herself smiling, too, sad and genuine on her face.
“Did you figure it out?”
As out of nowhere as the question seemed to be, Yelena understood immediately. She felt a familiar knot of tension forming in her stomach, loosened by months of self reflection and put into perspective by loss and the grief that came with it.
“Yeah,” she answered, and hearing her voice go weak with it felt stupid. Maria only smiled at her, as if knowing exactly what she was thinking.
“I’m glad.”
A simple answer, pride and warmth and something that made Yelena want to cry. She was sick of crying. Sick of knowing that Maria wouldn’t ask anything else of her, sick of feeling sick. The words grated, sounded strange and tilted, but Yelena forced them out anyway.
“I’m aromantic and asexual.”
It felt like a weight dropping from her shoulders. Words said aloud that made it real, somehow. Not alone , they echoed.
“Thanks for telling me,” Maria looked her in the eye, determined and grief stricken, despite it all. “Natasha would be proud of you.”
The words rang out and ripped at her heart, spilled like molten iron filling her lungs. Maria, once again, seemed to somehow know. As sick as Yelena was of crying, she felt like it had been eons since someone hugged her. It was utterly ridiculous, feeling safe in the arms of a person she’d only met a scarce few times. Yelena couldn’t care less.
+1
The scene was familiar, bad weather and all. Yelena thought that, perhaps, that last bit was to be expected, in London. A video of a shooting in Moscow had gotten to her all the way in the US, and Yelena wondered when, if ever, would the neverending loss stop taking from her. She hadn’t been there, and now she stood over another grave for it.
Shapeshifting aliens were par for the course now, and as much as she wanted to kill another man for revenge, she couldn’t bring herself to it. Not when she knew just how loyal both women had been to him. Not when, despite how much she wished for him to be lying, she knew he wasn’t.
So, Yelena stood over a grave and tried not to give into the urge to sink to her knees. Fanny nosed at her hand from where she was sitting beside her, and Yelena found herself being inordinately grateful for her presence. She ran an absentminded hand through her fur and willed the name on the grave to change for the tenth time. It did nothing.
Life in a world where the extraordinary tended to happen routinely sometimes did that to a person. Posed the question of just why her life had to always be stuck between the gritty grime of reality and the loss that came with trying to fight the otherworldly.
“Give my sister a hug for me, Maria Hill.”
For once, wind and the smell of coming rain were the only answers she received. Yelena closed her eyes and breathed. There would be time to join them. Before then, Yelena had more important things to do.
She turned around and left the solitary grave and the smell of fresh flowers behind. On her hand, her phone screen turned on. As Fanny trailed behind her, a dial tone rang to the letters written on the screen; KB . Yelena took a deep breath and answered the phone.
“A team ?”