Chapter Text
Light.
Not the kind of light the sun brings when it rises in the east, nor the kind that it takes away as it falls in the west. It’s not the dim light of the moon, the kind where its visible enough to know that it’s there but the one that doesn’t want to lighten the night sky and dampen the shine of the stars.
It’s not the light of fireflies either.
‘Those are actually part of the Lampyridae family. And the glow, the glow that you see, that comes from a chemical reaction called bioluminescence.’
No. It was too bright and white and harsh to be that of the forest stars either.
All Natasha knew was that she wanted someone to turn the goddamn lights off.
“You know I was quite enjoying the afterlife until you installed these new light fixtures. Glowy bastard.” Natasha said, only realising the croakiness of her voice and the sandpaper of her throat after the words had left her mouth. A few chuckles nearby pulled her out of her thoughts. That was a new feature. Huh. Maybe the lights could stay if she was no longer alone.
“Of course, that’s the first thing you say after coming back from the dead.” A low voice mumbled exasperatedly to her right. The voice was full of emotion, which would usually be unnerving to Natasha, but she was more focused on the words that had just been spoken.
Back from the dead? Okay. Sure. Because that’s plausible.
You used to get emails from a racoon Nat.
That’s not in the same realm as resurrection.
And now you’re also talking to yourself and in the third person. Huh, God has really done a number on you today, Nat. Yeah, he’s definitely not a thing. And if he is, well, he is a horrible host.
Her eyes slowly adjusting to what Natasha had concluded was the horrible artificial lighting of some hospital somewhere brought her out of her head once more. The grey of the ceiling now stood out amongst the squares trying to blind her, the white walls no longer playing the same game as the lights. A slow thumping in her head also brought attention to the aches in the rest of her body, and any normal person would have stayed in the same position in case moving brought on more pain but hey, pain only makes you stronger. Natasha somewhere finds the strength to push herself up, feeling hands behind her and words being spoken before she actually sees the rooms other occupants. When she is comfortably laid back on the now upright bed, she brings her hands to her eyes and rubs them. The room now comes clearly into focuses when she brings her hands away from her eyes. It looks incredibly similar to the medical room at the Avengers Compound and yet, it is not the same. And Natasha would know the difference. She spent a lot of time in there over the years. Feeling stumped yet again, she spins her head slowly to where the voices appeared from before to find wide and familiar eyes watching her. Clint and Steve look uncomfortably rigid in how they’re sat up in the leather armchairs that adorn the side of the bed she’s sat on, whilst Fury leans in the doorway, arms crossed with his usual mirth glimmering in his eye.
“You know, sitting like that can’t be good for your guys’ old man backs.” The redhead said, croakiness slowly leaving her voice the more she spoke. A roll of the eyes from Clint and a breathy chuckle from Steve was all it took for a smile to take over Natasha’s face as she took them in. Her best friends looked tired. Clint’s hair was dishevel- Yeah not the best argument Natasha, it always looks like that. The bags under his eyes were dark, and she could’ve sworn he now has an extra scar over the bridge of his nose. So much for being retired. His ear now adorned what Natasha assumed was a hearing aid, which made her notice his body position slightly favoured having that ear turned towards her. Flicking her eyes to Steve. Well, he looks the same. Super solider serum and all that. Turning her head away from the several men in the room, she lays her head back on the pillow and closes her eyes before taking a shaky breath in.
“Fill me in.” Natasha says forcefully. “And get me my phone.”
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“So, new Avengers compound huh? Pepper kept some of Tony’s flair I see.” Natasha pointed to the weird abstract statue in the corner just off from the kitchen. “Even though the bugger is dead, still always getting his way.” She continued as Steve placed a PB&J in front on her, alongside the half full glass of water she was harbouring.
“You know Tony. His will was full of strange requests. And Pepper… has always been good at her job.” The dirty blonde said as he took the other seat opposite her, beside Clint who was chuckling softly at the conversation.
“I can’t believe he is actually gone.” Natasha said, staring out of the window behind the two men. The early morning sun beaming down on the well-kept lawn. Probably another request of Tony’s. Pulling herself out of her grief, Natasha reached for her phone that sat on the table, scrolling a text chain as if the action would incite a reply. After a couple minutes of comfortable silence, and no new message, the redhead pulled her gaze off her phone and back to Clint and Steve. Steve’s eyes were full of confusion and hesitation. Natasha knew he wanted to ask about what was her sad desperation for a text message. She sighed before turning to rest her gaze on Clint. He was fiddling with his hands as if nervous, which was something she had only seen the archer do when he told Nat that he was thinking about proposing to Laura.
“Clint.” The man’s eyes flew up to Natasha’s face as she said his name.
“She’s alive.” He said almost immediately as he saw the unasked question in the redhead’s eyes. A breath Natasha didn’t know she had been holding in tumbled out of her mouth. She held Clint’s gaze begging him to continue, his eyes flicked to Steve whose head was bouncing between the two of them. Natasha waved Clint’s non-verbal question away quicker than it could be vocalised.
“Are you sure? How do yo-“
“She tried to kill me.”
Natasha snorted. “And yet you’re very much breathing. She can’t have been trying very hard.”
“I was blue and green for months after that. Believe me. She tried. Her knife was very much on my throat when I decided to do your guys’ whistle. Figured I’d be dead if I didn’t try or dead if she hated that someone who wasn’t you did it.” Clint said, his eyes sobering up as the memories obviously came flooding back.
“How long ago?”
“Uh. About 10 months ago. Give or take?”
Natasha sighed at Clint’s answer, running her hands through her hair.
“Uhh, who are we talking about?” Steve’s waving hand coming in between her and Clint breaking the silence that had taken over. A smirk glazed over Nat’s lips as she turned her gaze to Steve. This was going to be fun.
“моя маленькая сестра.”
“Nat. Don’t know if being dead frazzled your mind but I still don’t speak Russian.”
Natasha laughed at the look on his face. “Mind is fully intact Rogers. We are talking about Yelena.”
Steve gave her another confused look. “Who?” Meanwhile, Clint just sighed, standing up from the table, taking the dirty dishes to the sink which sat a few metres away.
Natasha chuckled softly before taking a breath.
“My little sister.”