Tried to Fake Better
It had been forty two days since Lena and Natasha Morse arrived in New Jersey, a stretch of time that felt both agonizingly long and unnaturally short. The hum of the ceiling fan mimicked the buzz in her head, a constant reminder that she was still here and utterly lost. They had settled into a house that still felt foreign, the walls adorned with pictures of places she had never seen, people she didn’t recognize. The past few weeks had passed in a blur of trying to fit into the mold of the girl that Melinda and Phil expected, but she was still unsure of what they wanted her to be.
Her sister's protectiveness was both a comfort and a burden. Lena could sense the tension in Natasha’s posture whenever Phil or Melinda approached her. Natasha trusted Coulson a little more than she trusted May, but Lena didn’t share that sentiment. In her eyes, they were still strangers, no matter how many times they smiled or tried to engage her in conversation. Bobbi called every week, and Melinda would pass Lena the phone so she could listen to the blonde agent prattle on about anything. Lena had reverted back to her silence, unwilling to speak more than a few words. Another psychiatrist she had been forced to see, courtesy of SHIELD, had given her the label of selective mutism. Phil and Melinda took it in stride but her sister did not. Natasha would ask questions when they were alone, worried someone had hurt her. In her sister’s memories, Yelena was a six year old chatterbox who talked to anyone that would listen. Sometimes it hurt to remember that Natasha barely knew her. Even in the Red Room, Lena was silent. It was easier to stay quiet, she had watched the talkative girls fall to others using their weaknesses that they had unconsciously revealed through idle conversations. Most had learned by Twelve. On the other hand, Natasha was outright and brazen with her words, using them to cover her fears. Under the cover of night, Natasha recounted to Yelena about how things changed in Fifteen with the girls working with the KGB. Their men were brutal and if you were too silent, they took it as submissive and that was never a good thing. Lena watched as her sister’s eyes glazed over as she spoke about it, and all she could do was squeeze her hand. It filled Yelena with a new fear of returning to the Red Room. She was practically a prodigy before she left, but would she have even survived Fifteen? Yelena didn’t like to think about that, because what else could she be good for? But she also didn’t want to be good for that. Even still, she tried not to dwell on it and focused on learning the rules and performing as Normal Lena Morse.
As the days passed, Lena found herself growing restless and antsy. Melinda and Phil hovered over her, not quite sure what to do or how to treat her. They seemed caught between trying to parent her and trying to give her space but she felt suffocated. Yelena had barely said more than a few sentences to them in the time that she’d been there. It wasn’t for lack of trying. She tried to plan words, simple answers to their questions but she couldn’t stop the nauseous sensation that she’d be punished for anything that came out of her mouth. She should be grateful but she couldn’t even muster up the words to be normal for them. Her birthday loomed just around the corner, and with it came a whirlwind of bad memories. For her, birthdays were never a good thing. They were just reminders of loss, of the girls she had known in the Red Room, people she had killed, each one a ghost lingering in the back of her mind. Another year older only meant more responsibilities to take on.
In the evenings, the stillness of the house pressed in on her. Natasha was under the impression that she no longer cuffed herself to the bed frame but she kept the cuffs that she had from SHIELD. In her dreams, Lena was trapped in a loop, watching the nameless girl die again and again due to her failure. She should’ve waited to make sure the target was completely alone, she could’ve saved that little blonde girl that reminded her so much of herself. And then the dream would shift, the girl turning into Sasha, Anna, Katya, and so many others she hadn’t bothered to learn the names of. In Seven, she had known most of the girls by name. By Nine, she no longer cared enough to remember because there was no point if they were just going to die like the others. The final straw was when she watched from nearby, a younger version of herself with keys in hand, letting out a single scream before the Widow who had the face of Melina silenced her. But the sound of screams didn’t stop, she watched in horror as the scene shifted to the airport watching her dying mother and screaming for her father.
She woke up fighting, feeling hands on her. Still cuffed to the bed, she dislocated her thumb to get out quickly and threw the person touching her to the ground. The lights went up and she could see three different figures, unable to make out any of them through her tears. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the figures standing around her, but her brain couldn’t process the faces, not yet. She tried to move, but found herself frozen in place. She didn’t recognize the room around her, didn’t know where she was. Her instinct screamed at her to run but a figure blocked the door. Another wave of panic washed over her but she suppressed it to prepare for punishment. It had been so real, the loop of death and failure replaying in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. Her stomach churned violently, and her legs threatened to buckle beneath her as she stumbled backward again, hitting the wall. Why was she so weak? Natasha’s familiar voice broke through the haze, red hair pulling her back to reality. “—you’re okay, look at me, you’re okay. Breathe Lee, you’re safe. It’s just me.” There was an uncertainty in Natasha’s voice but her green eyes locked on Yelena’s keeping her grounded long enough for her to start breathing again.
The haze of the nightmare cleared as oxygen made its way to her brain and two things hit her at once. Her thumb was throbbing, and Melinda and Phil were standing in the doorway. Something was familiar about the way they loomed, still and watching, like the handlers. Her pulse spiked in panic. She messed up. Lena’s breath came out in shallow gasps, her body tense with terror. She had never woken anyone up before. In the Red Room, they had taught her to be silent, to keep her nightmares hidden, to never scream. They were marble after all. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking with fear. She wasn’t even sure what language she spoke, but the words spilled from her mouth without a thought. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I apologize.” Her mind was racing with possible consequences. She hadn’t stepped a toe out of line yet and she didn’t know their methods. The punishments in the Red Room varied, but the lesson was always the same. Control yourself, or someone else would. Lena’s eyes darted to Melinda, who stepped closer. The slightest movement made her flinch violently, a sharp intake of breath escaping her. Don’t touch me. She couldn’t say it, but she wanted to scream. She was in no place to make demands and the fear paralyzed her throat.
“Lena…” Melinda spoke softly, a gentle murmur meant to calm her, but all Lena could focus on was the proximity. The closer she got, the harder it became to breathe. She pressed her back against the wall, wishing she could disappear, blend into the shadows like she had been trained to do. Lena’s knees buckled and she slid down to the floor, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she trembled uncontrollably. She couldn’t stop the apologies that spewed from her mouth and ran together. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” It was at that point that Natasha broke eye contact to practically shield her. “I apologize for the outburst Madame, I will take the punishment as you see fit, it was my fault.” Her sister’s words brought Yelena back to herself and guilt threatened to overwhelm her. Natasha had taken Malick in place of her, but she deserved this punishment. Melinda immediately spoke clearly, “No, you didn’t do anything Natasha.” So Melinda decided for them. Yelena stood up, face completely blank and bowed her head. “Yes Madame, I will accept any punishment you see fit. Natasha did nothing, I apologize for the disruption and my immaturity.” Natasha tried to push her sister behind her but Lena resisted, not willing to have both of them hurt for her mistake.
Melinda’s voice came again, soft and firm, not at all what Lena had expected. “No one is in trouble, Lena. We just wanted to make sure you’re both okay. You can call me Melinda, remember?” Yelena blinked, her brain struggling to catch up with the words. Her gaze remained fixed on the ground, and her face stayed blank. She couldn’t afford to show anything, not when she didn’t know the consequences. “I’m fine,” Yelena replied, her voice mechanical, hollow. Melinda looked toward her hand, her dark eyes sharp and assessing. "Your thumb," Melinda said, her voice calm. "Can I look at it?" It wasn’t a request. It was an order phrased like a question, and Lena’s body moved instinctively before her mind could process what was happening. She extended her hand, and something akin to relief fell over her. Breaking bones was a mild punishment compared to the other things they could do. If all she had to face tonight was a broken thumb, she could accept that. Melinda’s hand reached out, but instead of the harsh grip Lena had expected, her touch was gentle. To her surprise, Melinda carefully inspected the thumb and was even careful not to disturb it. Phil, still standing nearby, had been watching the whole time. “Mel, what do you need?” “Ice,” Melinda replied, her tone unwavering. “It’s dislocated.” Phil nodded and disappeared down the hall to get it.
Yelena stood, unable to understand what was happening. The silence between her and Melinda stretched on, as if the older woman was waiting for Yelena to say something, to explain herself. But Yelena had nothing and continued to look down at the floor. Natasha hovered near her, unsure of what to do. Neither of them wanted to disobey a direct order. Melinda knelt in front of her, level with Yelena’s blank face. “Can you look at me, honey?” Her voice was gentle but Yelena still flinched. Despite her hesitation, she met the woman’s eyes anyway. “Can I help you fix it?” Natasha moved at her words, “No. Don’t touch her.” Melinda moved her hands away slowly, “Okay. It’s dislocated, do you know how to put it back?” She directed the question to Lena who nodded. Even children knew how to fix a dislocated thumb. Lena took the pause as permission to move and quickly popped her thumb, quickly resuming her initial stance.
Melinda raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn’t say anything. She had seen many people in pain, some of whom were highly trained agents, yet few handled injury with the eerie calm that the young girl in front of her displayed. Lena had barely flinched and seemed almost emotionless. Phil returned with the ice pack, breaking the silence, and handed it to Melinda, who offered it to Lena. "It doesn’t hurt," Lena said, avoiding Melinda’s eyes, her voice distant, robotic. "I know," Melinda responded gently, holding the ice pack out still, "but it will help with the swelling." Lena hesitated, her gaze flickering between Melinda and Natasha. Natasha gave her a small, reassuring nod, still tense. After a long pause, Lena took the ice pack and roughly pressed it against her thumb. Melinda waited a moment before asking softly, "Is there anything you need?" Natasha’s response was quick, almost reflexive. "No." Melinda gave a nod, not pushing further. "If that changes, just knock. We’re right down the hall." Phil, who had been watching with concern, offered a brief smile before both he and Melinda left, closing the door quietly behind them. The moment they were gone, Natasha was by Lena’s side, her demeanor shifting from guarded to concerned, like a switch being flipped.
"Let me see," Natasha whispered, gently taking Lena’s hand and inspecting the injury. She pressed the ice pack against it with more care than Lena had shown herself and guided her back to the bed. Lena tried to pull away. "I’m fine," she repeated, but there was no conviction in her words. She had taken care of her injuries by herself for so long, it felt strange to have Natasha fussing over her. Natasha ignored the protest, tucking her sister back under the covers. Her hands moved gently, brushing stray hair from Lena’s face. “I’m here,” she murmured, her voice soft, filled with an affection she rarely allowed herself to show. “No one is going to hurt you, Lee. I won’t let them.”
Lena’s throat tightened, a lump forming as she fought to keep her emotions buried. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t resist either as Natasha sat beside her, stroking her hair with light, rhythmic motions. “Go to sleep, I’ve got you.” The soft hum of the ceiling fan, Natasha’s steady breathing, and the warmth of her hand in Lena’s hair slowly eased her back into sleep.
As her eyes finally drifted shut, her last thought was of the possible consequences that awaited her in the morning.