And Escape Better
The rest of the day seemed to pass like still frames of a movie. Disjointed, but Lena went through the motions. She was quiet when she got into the car, Phil didn’t push. Instead, he told her about his day and his job teaching at the nearby university, something that definitely had something to do with SHIELD, Lena had deduced, as some sort of Instructor. She didn’t think that Phil could be a Guard, he was too kind. She had to pinch herself hard to keep those memories at bay. When they arrived at the house, she stood emotionless through Natasha’s visual inspection and subsequent disappearance, the hurt from yesterday reappearing as she heard Natasha’s door lock. If she wasn’t so fragmented, she’d be grateful that her sister still cared after the words she’d hurled yesterday.
She ignored the coldness of her hands, missing the heat where Natasha would hold them to keep her grounded when she got like this. Time passed around her bubble of loneliness without Yelena noticing it. When she was called down for dinner, she sat silently, pushing around food and avoiding Natasha’s burning gaze. She smiled tightly, nodding to assure Melinda nothing bad had happened, she was just tired. Melinda didn’t push and if she could feel anything, her eyes would have watered as she fell into the hug offered. But she was Normal and Fine and she just needed a break from being Lena Morse. As the evening went on, Lena retreated to her room under the pretense of exhaustion. It wasn’t a lie, she was tired, just not the kind sleep could fix. Before she could escape, Phil pushed a Lunchable into her hands and she was able to muster up a grateful smile.
Her body felt like it was moving through molasses, and when she reached her bed, she didn’t even bother changing into pajamas.The loungewear she had put on after shedding her uniform earlier would work well enough. She just crawled under the covers and pulled them tightly around herself, hoping for a moment of peace.
But sleep didn’t come easily. Faces from the day passed through her mind, guilt making her nauseous. They had no idea what she’d done, what she could do. No idea what it took for her to sit there in that classroom and pretend to be normal. And yet, the longer she tried to convince herself she was fine, the more she felt like a stranger in her own skin. What if she hurt someone? The dream shifted like it always does, watching the little girl die, watching her mother bleed out, to watching herself kill countless people who had taken the faces of her new classmates.
When she woke up gasping, all she could feel was the overwhelming guilt that was trying to suffocate her. Normally, her sister would have burst in by now, alerted by the small sounds of Lena’s distress. But the room stayed silent as she removed herself from the tether to her bed. After the Thumb Incident, she had been careful to wake quicker and Natasha had learned not to touch her before she woke. Lena’s throat tightened and she felt stupid as tears welled in her eyes. She used to be strong . Marble . She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, the loneliness settling in her chest like a weight. There was no animosity in Natasha’s eyes at dinner, but the silence still stung. The walls in her room felt too close, she couldn’t stay here.
She needed to get out, just for a moment. Just to breathe.
Without thinking, Lena slid out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt over her head, shoving her feet into shoes. The house’s security system was well-designed, but she was better trained. She bypassed the alarms with ease, slipping into the cool night unnoticed. The quiet suburban street stretched before her, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The air was crisp, sharp against her skin, but it grounded her in a way the confines of the house couldn’t. Her feet carried her without direction, the rhythmic crunch of her sneakers on pavement the only sound. She walked past neatly trimmed lawns and darkened houses. It all felt so foreign.
She found herself at a children’s park about a mile away, the swings swaying gently in the breeze. The playground was deserted, the equipment casting long, eerie shadows in the moonlight. Lena sat down on one of the swings, wrapping her fingers around the cold chains, looking up.
The stars seemed brighter here, unobstructed by city lights. She tilted her head back, her gaze fixed on the expanse of the sky. It reminded her of the nights in Russia, where the stars had been a rare comfort during her training. They had been the only constant, even as everything else around her changed. Ohio had stars too, though they seemed gentler there. Softer. She remembered lying on her back in the grass with her mom and sister, tracing constellations with her finger. Her mother’s voice would hum softly, jumping in every so often, as a young Yelena tried to explain each one from memory. Lena blinked back the sudden sting of tears. A part of her wonders if Natasha misses their parents as much as she does. A smaller part of her wonders if her sister craves the structure of the Red Room like she does. Lena finds herself missing ballet. She misses knowing what to expect, she misses the way the music numbs her mind. She missed knowing her place in the world. She almost misses the Red Room. The weird homesickness makes her nauseous to think about.
Why is she out when so many others are still there? She doesn’t deserve the luxury of dinner, of friends, of a family, not after everything she’d done. Not when a twisted part of her misses it, even though she had longed for freedom for so long during Seven and Eight. By Nine, she had given up dreams of a normal life. Now she had it. And she didn’t know what to do with it. So she sat, eyes trained on the stars as she swung. The cool air surrounding her and the squeaking of the poorly-oiled chains reminded her that time was still passing but she stayed there until the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon. When the deep blues gave way to soft pinks and oranges, Lena made herself stop. She adjusted to the lack of motion and stood up to make her way back.
Lena approached the house as quietly as she had left it, her steps light and deliberate. Climbing back up to the second-floor window of Phil’s office was easy, the AC unit a perfect placement so she could get a grip on the gutters. She slipped inside, her feet landing silently on the carpet and she quickly made her way back to her room. Her heart sank when she opened the door. Melinda May was sitting at her desk chair, arms crossed and her expression blank. Lena knew she wasn’t supposed to leave without telling anyone, especially for so long, but she also knew that Melinda was fair. She knew the consequences that everyone had agreed on when they made The Rules and it was soft in comparison.
“Good morning,” Melinda said, her voice calm. Lena froze for a second before stepping inside and closing the door softly behind her. Her eyes flicked to the clock, it was barely past six. “Morning,” she replied, keeping her tone neutral. Melinda tilted her head slightly, a brow raised. “How’d you get back up to the second floor?” Lena shrugged, forcing her face to remain impassive. When Melinda’s silence made it clear she was waiting for an answer, Lena gave in. “I climbed.” “Naturally,” Melinda said, her lips twitching slightly, though her gaze remained steady. “Want to tell me where you went?”
“I just needed some air,” Lena said, moving to sit on the edge of her bed, mirroring Melinda’s posture. “I wasn’t gone long.” Melinda’s silence stretched between them, heavy and pointed. Lena shifted under the weight of it, her gaze dropping to her hands. “You weren’t just outside the house,” Melinda said after a moment, her voice soft but firm. “You left the neighborhood, didn’t you?” Lena’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she nodded, her voice quiet. “I went to the park. I needed to breathe, I really didn’t notice how far I went.”
Melinda’s expression softened, but her voice remained steady. “Lena, you can go outside when you need to. But we need to know where you are, your safety is our number one priority.” “I’m sorry,” Lena murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, more guilt filling her. “I just didn’t want to bother anyone.” “You’re not a bother,” Melinda said firmly. “We all care about you, and that means we need to know when you’re struggling. Taking off alone in the middle of the night isn’t the answer. I was really worried when I saw your bed empty this morning.”
Lena nodded, her throat tight. “I won’t do it again,” she said quietly.
Melinda gave her a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes but carried an unspoken warmth. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” she said. “And thank you for coming back.” Lena’s heart twisted at her words, not exactly in pain, but a weird sad warmth. Lena hesitated again, trying to hold back the desperation in her voice when she finally asked. “Can I... can I practice ballet somewhere?” Melinda raised an eyebrow at the change in subject. “Ballet?” “It helps me,” Lena said quickly, afraid Melinda might say no. “It helps me focus. We learned there, but it helps me and I miss it.” Melinda didn’t even pause before nodding. “Of course. We can figure out a place for you to practice. We can even go shopping later to get you what you need.” Lena blinked, her surprise evident. “Really?” “Really,” Melinda said, her tone warm but firm. “And thank you for telling me. It’s important that you have things that help you.”
A small, tentative smile crept onto Lena’s face, and she glanced at the floor. “Thanks.” Melinda stood and approached her, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “You’re welcome. But about sneaking out,” she added, her tone shifting slightly. “Based on the rules we all agreed on, no TV and you need to keep your door open for today. Okay?” Lena nodded readily. Though both she and Natasha despised sitting at the table and writing out the rules and their consequences, they did assure Lena in a way.
“No other punishment,” Melinda added, her voice softening again. “I forgave you the second you walked back in the door.” The unexpected words caught Lena off guard, and she found herself looking up at Melinda with wide eyes. “Why?”
“Because you came back,” Melinda said simply. “That’s all that matters to me.”
“I forgot that I have people that might worry now.” Lena admitted softly, wringing her hands and pushing back the tears she felt forming. She’d been so singular before. No attachments. “What if there’s something wrong with me?” “There’s nothing wrong with you,” Melinda said, her voice steady. “You’re adjusting. You don’t need to have everything figured out right now honey, you have so much time. Give yourself grace.”
Lena didn’t really know what to say to that. Melinda didn’t know everything she’d done. So instead of dwelling on that, Lena changed the subject hesitantly. “Would it be okay if I still call Bobbi today?” “Of course, she was texting me last night asking about you.” Lena’s heart clenches a little at that. Bobbi cared about her. She had said as much, plenty of times now, but she had gone out of her way to ask Melinda. Yelena had people that cared. Melinda got up, and headed for the door, “Alright, you can catch about an hour of sleep now or you can join me to do Tai Chi?” Despite her exhaustion, she knew sleep was not her friend right now. And she had to admit that being invited to one of Melinda’s solo Tai Chi sessions felt nice. Lena nodded in agreement and followed Melinda downstairs.
Six months ago, Yelena Belova knew her purpose in life. Her life was predestined, chosen for her and she knew everything. But the only one who cared about her was lost, stuck in a photostrip she’d somehow kept hold of. Now, a few weeks shy of twelve years old, she knew nothing. But she felt warmer than she had in years. She didn’t have to rely on fading memories to defrost her soul anymore.