Chapter Text
‘This sucks.’ Yelena declares shortly.
Ava scoffs, then agrees, ‘Yes, it does suck.’
Yelena’s glad they’re complaining now. She’s always been good at that. ‘ And I’m hungry.’
‘Almost burning to death will do that to you.’
John glares at them, but Yelena can easily see the bags under his eyes, the exhaustion painted into his slumped stance.
Yelena doesn’t get tired, mostly because she’s always so tired that it’s hard to distinguish any other feeling. Exhaustion is a funny thing. It clings to the corners of your consciousness and slowly drags you down until you’re so deep that you can’t see the top and you also can’t remember how your eyes normally feel without that heavy kind of pain.
‘We need to regroup.’ Bucky says. He flexes his metal fist, rolling his neck from side to side.
They’d arrived in central Manhattan and are just sitting in the jet, some fancy thing that probably would have been called Stark Tech a decade ago and is now just unbranded wealth. Yelena has absolutely no clue what to do yet because - sue her - she’s never led a team of villains stroke hitmen stroke bodymen stroke… do they call them vigilantes? Probably not. The morals are a dark grey area.
‘I could do with some fuel.’ Ava says.
‘Fuel?’ John repeats, eyebrows shooting up, then wincing as the pain of the fight kicks in.
‘We fight, then we feast!’ Alexei declares boldly, waving his arms out.
‘Can we swap the order of those?’ Ava asks sarcastically.
‘You need medical.’ Yelena glares at John.
‘And I need a fucking massage. But some of us don’t exist out of a solid suit, so-’ Ava drawls angrily.
‘Where can we go?’ John asks. ‘We need weapons too.’
‘Amen to that.’ Yelena sighs.
Silence falls.
‘Well?’ She prompts. Alexei makes some snorting Russian voice she cannot be bothered to try and understand. Bucky shakes his head, John doesn’t even bother to respond. Ava just flicks on her helmet. She seems to do that when she thinks her glare is losing its power.
‘Come on, guys. Seriously? This is New York. You are Americans.’ Yelena wrinkles her nose at John. ‘Mostly.’
‘Mostly? What the hell is that supposed to mean I’m Captain Am-’
‘You used to be.’ Ava cuts in.
‘And I was the Red Guardian!’ Alexei yells.
‘Soldier? No safe houses, no secret hide outs with big big guns.’ Yelena holds her arms up like she’s firing a machine gun. ‘Cha cha cha- you know?’
Bucky stares at her like she’s just suggested he dye his hair pink.
‘Oookay. We are stranded.’ Yelena groans, dropping her head into her hands.
‘Hey! Kiddie , we are not stranded! There is always hope. I remember one day, back in the good old days- oh the old days-’
‘Shut up!’ Ava, John and Yelena shout in unison.
‘We are. We’re stranded. Screwed. We can’t fight her like this, hell we can’t even get in.’ Ava looks like she’s considering phasing through the floor, and quite frankly Yelena wishes she could take her with her.
‘I- I might know a place.’ She mumbles.
Yelena leads them through the streets until they reach a tall apartment block about ten minutes from the tower, it’s very average, no doorman or anything, but a neat row of mailboxes by the door. They trail into the lift and Yelena presses the top floor and it hums upwards.
‘So here we go.’ Yelena shifts on her toes outside the flat front door. It reads 17, and theres the outline of an a beside it, as if it was there for years and recently got taken off. The door beside it is boarded up. Someone’s obviously made the two top floor flats into one penthouse.
She picks the lock easily and swings the door open.
‘ Sestra? Bitch! Are you home?’ Yelena yells, wandering down the corridor, ignoring the others following her. ‘ Please tell me you are not home, and if you are, you are at least clothed.’
‘Don’t be crass, Lena.’ A voice comes from the kitchen and Yelena pouts. She’s been scarred before by trying to sneak into the flat.
The corridor opens out into a massive open plan living area, the outside wall made up of entirely glass panels, looking out over the city. To the left is a kitchen with an L-shaped counter pointing out into the room, and in front of it is a dining table, half cleared for two people, the other half scattered with papers and a board game. Beside that is a curve of sofas facing a wall unit, covered in shelves with books and picture frames. There are a few doors leading out to other rooms, but it just feels so distinctly homely. There's a sharp smell of garlic and tomatoes, and a stack of shoes by the door. The walls are covered in pictures and everything seems lived in and worked through.
There's a woman sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by papers, the half-finished chess game pushed to one side in favour of a file spread out around her.
Yelena hops up to sit on the counter and the others crowd into the kitchen, standing awkwardly. Except Bucky. He just stares at the woman, then shuts his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. But when he opens them again and it’s apparent she is still there, his jaw drops slightly.
‘Maria?’
His voice is terrifyingly weak and she stands, walking over to stand in front of him before responding.
‘Hey, Buck. How are you?’
‘I’m- I’m good.’ Bucky stammers. ‘I thought you were dead. Fury called, he said you were shot-’
‘I had a favour to pull.’ Maria replies simply and he knows what that means. That this flat, this life that she’s living is not named for her, but it’s her home now.
‘Is that Maria Hill?’ John whispers to Ava, who elbows him, then nods.
‘LENA?’ A voice calls from the next room. ‘ Did I hear my little sister?’
‘I am not little.’ Yelena pouts, and Alexei laughs.
‘You are still baby, Lena. You are younger than her too, a baby in comparison to-’
Natasha flies out of the bedroom, baggy shirt pulled on haphazardly and hair wet from the shower.
‘The Black Widow.’ Ava says, dumbly.
Natasha looks from Yelena, to Maria - who just shrugs, to Bucky - who looks like hes about to either punch or hug her, to the motley crew assembled behind Yelena.
‘Not anymore.’ She says calmly, then gets picked off her feet.
‘Ah! Natka! My child! How are you?’ Alexei yells so close to her ear Natasha winces, and resorts to elbowing him in the jaw to be released.
‘Alexei, stop it.’ Yelena hisses.
‘My daughters! Reunited at last.’ Alexei sniffs dramatically as if he might cry.
‘Natasha? You’re-’ Bucky looks like he’s about to repeat himself, then nods. ‘You’re retired, right?’
‘Something like that.’ Nat’s eyes soften, and just for a moment they flick over to Maria, long enough for him to fill in the blanks. Oh, shit. He thinks. So that’s why Stevie never stood a chance.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be dead?’ John interrupts, talking to Maria. ‘Both of you.’
‘Technically.’ Maria shrugs. ‘We’re retired.’
‘That’s industry speak for having death certificates and pulling your cap down around security cameras.’ Natasha grins, her teeth slightly bared at him. ‘Now what the fuck are you doing in my home?’
Twenty minutes later Maria has pulled a frankly enormous lasagne out of the fridge, and it’s bubbling away in the oven. Bucky is talking to her in low tones, hovering over the files open on the table. Ava is eating a baguette, sat on the island, the whole thing in her hand and just taking massive bites out of the end. John is pacing in the corner, trying to be both dramatic and troubled, while Alexei spreads himself out over the couch.
‘We’re going to have to get a new couch.’ Natasha groans, watching him scratch at his bread, her nose wrinkled in slight disgust.
‘Please, after what I saw last time I’m surprised you haven’t already got one.’ Yelena scoffs.
Nat just smirks proudly. ‘You need to learn to knock.’
‘Maybe I think that in the middle of a random tuesday my sister will not be naked with a girl? But no, I am not so lucky.’
‘She’s not just any girl, she’s my wife .’
‘You’re gross.’ Yelena pulls a damp curl and Natasha punches her in the arm.
‘So what are you doing here, Yelena? You guys look… beaten up.’
‘We’re beat, thats for fucking sure.’
They take a moment to watch Ava roll out her shoulder, using the baguette like a stretch stick, and how John is favouring his right leg as he paces.
‘That should be elevated and iced.’ Natasha says, raising her voice to stop him in his tracks. ‘Or someone just needs one kick to take you down for good.’
He looks like he’s about to challenge her, but her posture shifts. Even in torn jeans and a baggy t-shirt Nat is still The Black Widow, and her gaze is rumoured to be deadly. John sets his jaw, but sits down, propping his leg onto the footstool.
‘Take off your boot!’ Maria and Nat shout in unison and he holds his hands up in surrender, unlacing his boots and putting up his socked foot.
‘That’s an Adler.’ Nat says, by way of explanation. ‘Worth more than you are.’
‘I’m a decorated military-’
‘It’s Maria’s favourite.’ Nat says over him. ‘I don’t give a fuck if you’re the King of Wakanda. It’s shoes off.’
‘Don’t be mean to him. He’s suffering.’
‘So are you, Lena.’
‘No, Nat-’ Yelena’s voice is low.
‘Yelena. Do not lie to me, I can see it from a mile away. That is why you avoid me. I can tell how you feel.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Lena.’ Nat says carefully, turning away from the room and focusing on her sister. ‘You are depressed.’
She says it as if it’s as simple as that. As if it’s one emotion neatly packaged in a bow, hiding in the back of Yelena’s mind. It’s a fucking zoo, actually, it’s morphed into a hundred different forms Yelena can’t keep track of anymore. It’s sadness, sure, but it’s hopelessness , and fatigue, and boredom, constant, unescapable boredom. It’s a numbness, a vivid thought when she’s happy that this will never last , and when she’s sad it's a voice that sings in the tone of a gunshot.
‘I’m fine.’
‘I thought I was fine. Then I threw myself off a cliff.’
‘Nat.’ Yelena snaps. ‘Stop it-’
‘They’ll be good for you.’ Nat points to the crowded room. ‘I was alone for five years, thats why I did what I did; why I was so depressed. Now I have therapy, and friends, and Maria. She is everything to me.’
‘I do not need-’ Yelena’s face contracts. ‘That.’
‘Love?’
‘I- No, I don’t- I mean.’ Yelena stammers. She can’t talk about that just yet.
‘Friendship is love too, Lena. A team is a sort of family, I know that better than anybody.’ Natasha looks at Bucky as she says this.
‘They are not my family.’
‘They could be.’ Natasha pats her sister's shoulder. ‘I’ve got some catching up to do.’
Yelena watches her walk over to Bucky, and hug him tightly, almost too long, but then, if you think about what they’ve been through together, it’s a wonder they’re not crying. They speak in low tones, Russian so John cannot overhear, and Yelena just starts to follow when a piece of bread is held out to her.
‘You want some?’ Ava sits on the back of the sofa opposite Yelena.
‘Sure.’
‘So, what is this place?’
Yelena takes a bite to avoid talking.
‘How long have they been married?’ Ava says, as if Yelena hadn’t just ignored her.
‘Uh, since the blip. Three, no, four years.’ Yelena replies. ‘They were together for, like, a decade before that.’
‘They’re cute together.’ Ava’s watching them talk to Bucky, Maria’s arm around Natasha’s waist, the redhead leaning into her shoulder.
‘They’re gross.’
Ava raises an eyebrow.
‘All touchy-feely and happy.’
Ava snorts. ‘You’re funny, Belova. So depressed you want everyone else to be too.’
Yelena doesn’t respond to that, just tears off more bread. It’s pretty shitty bread, to be honest.
‘Does your dad know?’
Yelena laughs out loud. ‘No. He is an idiot. They sleep in the same bed, and they wear the same rings, but he is a Soviet super solider.’
Ava shrugs. ‘People ignore what they don’t understand.’
The oven timer pings.
‘This is weird. This is weird, right?’ John hisses to Bucky as they fit around the table. Maria had ordered Bucky to move in the desk from her office so there was just enough room for everyone to sit.
Bucky just smiles pleasantly at Maria. ‘Thanks, Hill. This is just what we needed.’
‘You can’t fight like this.’ Natasha passes the dish over to Ava. ‘You go and fight… Bob-?’
‘Bob.’ They chorus in confirmation.
‘-Bob, sure, and you’ll lose.’ Natasha giggles to herself. ‘You’ll try and sneak up on him and your stomach would rumble.’
‘That would not happen.’ Yelena frowns.
‘Milan.’ Maria says, raising an eyebrow.
Yelena throws a piece of cucumber at her. ‘That was different!’
‘Don’t throw missiles at my wife.’ Nat throws a fork at Yelena and it lands between her fingers, sticking out of the wood.
‘Children, stop fighting.’ Alexei wrenches the fork out of the table. ‘This family dinner. Is there vodka?’
‘We’re not drinking before a fight.’ John replies strictly as Ava nods.
‘Masha. You are good woman, warning Lena of dangers of empty stomach. She needs to be reminded, sometimes.’ Alexei claps her on the back and Maria winces.
‘I do not need to be reminded.’ Yelena pouts.
‘It is practice for a dumb American husband.’
‘I am not practice!’ Yelena complains, at the same time Natasha takes Maria’s hand and says.
‘She is not going to have a husband, she’s married to me.’
Alexei laughs loudly. Nat just rolls her eyes.
‘We need weapons.’ Bucky interrupts. ‘And a way in.’
‘No problem. We have a dungeon full of guns and cars.’
‘Really?’
‘No.’ Maria deadpans. ‘This is Manhattan, the rent nearly breaks us every month.’
‘We have a stash, obviously. You can clear that out.’ Natasha narrows her eyes. ‘And a moving van.’
‘What the fuck would we use a moving van for?’
‘I cannot believe this.’ Ava sighs, climbing into the back of the van. ‘This is so not a plan.’
‘At least we have guns now.’ Yelena shrugs.
‘We want them back.’ Maria reminds her.
‘Maybe some of them.’ Yelena sing-songs, starting to step into the truck.
‘Hey.’ Nat pulls back on her arms. ‘Come here.’
Yelena rolls her eyes.
‘Lena. Please .’
Natasha pulls her away slightly. ‘You’re going to come back from this fight, and when you do, I’m signing you up to see my therapist. She’s SHIELD trained, Maria-verified, knows about the Red Room. Nothing will spook her. You need to see her.’
‘I do not need therapy.’
‘Yelena.’
‘Sure, I’m depressed, but I- I’m fine. It’ll be fine.’
‘Yelena. Fine is not good enough.’ Natasha reaches out, pushing Yelena’s hair into place. ‘If you’re going to be an aunt, you’re going to have to be more than fine.’
Yelena watches her, the way her gaze holds steady, her palms aren’t sweating where they hold Yelenas. Natasha can lie, but not to her sister.
‘You are- you’re having a baby?’
Natasha nods, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Maria’s pregnant.’
‘She’s pregnant ?’ Yelena repeats, immediately looking over to where Maria is leaning into the cab of the van. She’s losing her touch, she really should have seen it- in her gait, the way she moved, the way she rests on one foot. ‘Holy shit she- she’s pregnant.’
‘Yeah.’
‘How?’ Yelena asks before she can stop herself and Nat huffs, amused.
‘Doner. But it’s-’ Natasha pauses, examining Yelena. ‘Do you know what The Red Room did to us?’
‘Us. They made us- so, so we couldn’t have children.’
‘Yeah, they removed our womb, but they left our ovaries. It’s my egg.’
Yelena’s eyebrows shoot us. ‘It’s your baby?’
‘It’s our baby, yes.’
‘Wow. Alexei is never going to get this.’ Yelena laughs. ‘It’s going to be hilarious.’
‘Hm. For you.’ Natasha crosses her arms.
‘You’re good to go, sestra. ’ Maria walks over, ruffling Yelena’s hair as she moves to Nat’s side. ‘Come back when you’re beaten and bloody, yeah?’
‘You shouldn’t be so mean if you’re going to be a mom, you know.’ Yelena smirks.
‘You told her?’ Maria turns to Nat who grins.
‘I couldn’t not.’
‘Of course.’ Maria kisses Natasha’s forehead. ‘Did you tell her she’s got to get her shit together to be an aunt?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes.’ Yelena pokes Maria’s stomach. ‘I’m going to be the best fucking aunt in the whole fucking world.’
‘Maybe hold back on the swearing around little ears.’ Natasha cradles Maria’s stomach protectively. ‘And don’t poke my baby.’
Yelena watches out of the tiny window as they pull away. Natasha waves, her other hand around Maria’s waist, fingers splayed over her hip to her stomach. Maria just smiles softly, her eyes meeting Yelena’s and when they drive through the drywall, among the screams and the gunshots and the people trying to punch her in the face Yelena makes a vow to herself.
I am going to save Bob. So that he survives, and my sisters survive, and my niece (she was sure it would be a girl) survives. Then I’m going to be the best aunt in the world.
She thinks about what Natasha used to say, about red on her ledger. Maybe this is how she erases it, with child’s colouring pencils and an over-paid therapist.