"he has a gift for piercing even the most guarded of hearts"
The shrill ring of Peter's phone pierced the silence of his apartment. He fumbled for it in the dark, squinting at the bright screen. "Hello?" he mumbled.
"Peter." Natasha's voice came through, low and urgent. "I need your help."
Peter sat bolt upright, suddenly wide awake. "Nat? What's going on?" Natasha almost never asked for help, especially not in the middle of the night.
"I've been compromised," she said tersely. "They're taking me back to the Red Room."
Peter's blood ran cold. He knew Natasha's history with the Red Room, the place where she had been trained and tortured as an assassin from childhood. If she was being taken back there against her will, it could only mean something terrible.
"Who's taking you? How can I help?" he asked urgently.
The line crackled and Peter heard muffled voices in the background. "No time to explain," Natasha said quickly. "Get to the Quinjet and pick up Yelena in Berlin. She can help. And Peter - hurry." The line went dead.
Peter was already on his feet, heart pounding. Yelena Belova, Natasha's "sister" from her Red Room days. They would need her help to find Natasha and take down the Red Room once and for all. He threw on his Spider suit and web-slung his way to the Avengers compound upstate. Within minutes he had the cloaked Quinjet fired up and was jetting off toward Berlin.
Yelena paced the safehouse nervously. The alert from Fury had been vague - simply coordinates for a pick-up in Berlin and instructions to help Romanoff's protege with an urgent mission. She didn't know what to expect, but if Natasha was in trouble, she would help in any way she could. Her sister had done too much for her to refuse.
A knock on the door had her spinning, pistol raised. "Yelena?" called a muffled voice. "It's Peter Parker. I'm here to pick you up."
She lowered the gun and opened the door. A teenage boy in a red and blue suit stood there, wearing a worried expression under his mask. "Let's go," she said briskly, holstering her weapon and striding toward the idling Quinjet.
As soon as they were in the air, Peter began explaining the situation. "Natasha called me for help. She said someone was taking her back to the Red Room."
Yelena sucked in a sharp breath, hands involuntarily clenching into fists. "Who?" she demanded. "Who would dare?"
Peter shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. She didn't have time to explain. But she told me to pick you up. I think we're the only two who have a chance of getting her out of there."
Yelena nodded grimly. As much as she hated the thought of Natasha in the hands of their former captors, a small part of her was touched that Natasha had called for her help. That she was trusted.
"So you're the Spiderling, hmm?" she asked, scrutinizing him. He seemed impossibly young.
"Uh, Spider-Man," he corrected self-consciously.
"And how do you know my sister?" she questioned. Natasha was not one to form attachments easily.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "I helped her and the Avengers with some stuff awhile back. She kinda took me under her wing, helped me out with my powers and dealing with everything. I guess she's become like a, a mentor. Or an aunt.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Or maybe even kind of a mom to me.”
Yelena blinked in surprise. She had never heard anyone describe the Black Widow in such affectionate terms before. But she could also see how Natasha’s quiet strength and protectiveness could inspire that sort of bond.
“She never mentioned me?” she asked carefully.
“No!” Peter said quickly. “I mean, not until now. But I’m really glad I get to meet you. Mom doesn’t open up much about her past. I know it was really hard for her. She must really trust you a lot to call you for help with this.”
Yelena looked away, throat suddenly tight. She and Natasha had been almost like sisters when they were younger. Only recently had they begun to rebuild their fractured relationship. Hearing that Natasha trusted her and considered her family meant more than she could express.
“We will save her, паук,” she said firmly, meeting his eyes. “And make them regret ever laying a hand on our Black Widow.”
Peter nodded, jaw set with determination. Yelena felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness for this boy who so clearly cared for Natasha. Who saw the woman Yelena was only just beginning to uncover beneath the mythic Black Widow. They would save her, together.
The hours passed tensely as they drew closer to Russia. Peter filled the silence by chatting absently about his web formula upgrades, stories from patrols around Queens, and anecdotes about the other Avengers. Yelena stayed quiet but found herself unexpectedly charmed by his enthusiasm and wit. She was starting to see why Natasha was so fond of him.
“Can you tell me more about Nat?” Peter asked eventually. “I mean, what she was like back then?”
Yelena hesitated, old instinct warning her not to reveal weaknesses. But Peter's earnest curiosity was difficult to resist. Slowly she began to share some of her early memories - training side by side, the thrill of besting each other in fights, secretly tending each other’s injuries away from the watchful eyes of their trainers. Bit by bit she painted a picture of the young Natasha for Peter, one beyond the legend.
“Thank you for telling me about her,” Peter said gently when she finally fell silent. “I know it must be hard to think about that place and remembering everything you went through. But it helps me understand Mom better. She doesn’t talk much about those times.”
Yelena swallowed hard. “There is much pain there,” she acknowledged. “But also...happiness, at times. She is the only family I have left from then. I would do anything to protect her.”
Impulsively, Peter put a hand on her arm. “You have family now too, you know. Both of you. The Avengers, we’ll always be there when you need us. And...I know we just met, but I’d like it if you considered me family too. If you ever need anything...”
Yelena had to turn away to hide the sudden tears in her eyes. The open, genuine emotion from this boy was almost too much. Is this why Natasha cared for him so dearly?
“You...you as well, little spider,” she got out gruffly. “Natasha is right to see you as a son. And that makes you family to me too. I'm your Aunt Yelena.”
The smile that lit up Peter's face was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Yelena couldn't help but smile back, feeling her heart crack open despite her best efforts. Oh, this boy was dangerous indeed. No wonder he had wormed his way into the Black Widow's closely guarded heart.
By the time they arrived at the hidden Red Room base, Yelena knew she would tear the entire place down with her bare hands if it meant protecting Peter and Natasha. As the Quinjet set down silently in the snow and the bay door lowered, she checked her weapons and turned to Peter.
“This place is designed to turn young girls into heartless assassins,” she told him bluntly. “There will be traps, triggers implanting in Natasha’s mind, security measures you can’t imagine. Stay behind me, stay alert.” She pressed a small comm unit into his hand. “I will guide you to Natasha. With luck they will not expect us so quickly.”
Peter's expression was serious as he pulled his mask down over his face and nodded. Together they slipped out into the freezing night, the looming black bulk of the Red Room compound barely visible through the swirling snow. Yelena led them stealthily toward a side entrance she knew from childhood, senses hyperalert for any sign of movement.
Too easy, she thought as they slipped inside unchallenged. They want us to come to them. She gestured Peter to the shadows of the hallway as she scouted ahead, wary of traps. The deeper they went, the stronger the sense of wrongness grew. The Red Room was never vulnerable. If they were inside, it was because they were allowed to be.
When the first wave of black-clad soldiers appeared at the end of the hall, it was almost a relief. She and Peter moved seamlessly into combat, working in unison to disable their attackers. Yelena noted approvingly that the boy’s fighting skills were superb, combining agility and strength with quick improvisation. They pressed forward, leaving crumpled bodies in their wake.
“The cells are below us,” Yelena breathed as they paused to get their bearings. “Down this way.”
They encountered more resistance the lower they went, but between her lethal skill and Peter’s acrobatic maneuvers, the guards didn't stand a chance. At last they reached the final hallway, lined with heavy doors. Yelena could hear ragged breathing from behind them - the cells were occupied. A particularly large force of soldiers waited by the final door. Natasha must be held there.
Wordlessly, she and Peter launched themselves into the attack. Yelena flowed from one opponent to the next, limbs striking with brutal efficiency. From the corner of her eye she could see Peter expertly dodging gunfire while binding enemies with his webs. They were an unstoppable team.
The last man fell with a gurgle just as an agonized scream rang out from the cell. Natasha! Yelena spun to face the door, chest heaving. As Peter dropped beside the keypad to hack the lock, she turned a wary eye down the corridor behind them, certain this had been too easy. Where was the trap, the true test? Her instincts screamed that they were overlooking something.
A flash of silver from above was her only warning. “Peter!” she shouted, but it was too late. The blast caught him full in the chest, slamming him to the ground with a sickening crack. Yelena whirled, guns tracking the concealed shooter even as she registered the unnatural angle of Peter’s limbs. The white lenses of his mask were dark, lifeless.
With a howl of rage, she unleashed her full arsenal down the corridor, shredding the shooter's body and not stopping until her guns were empty and the walls ran red. Gasping, she spun back to Peter’s limp form. The doors rattled behind her as Natasha slammed against them, screaming.
“Peter! Damn you, Peter don't do this!” Yelena dropped to her knees beside him, hands fluttering uselessly over the gaping wound. His chest was still, blood pooling beneath him. “You can’t do this, little spider,” she begged desperately. “Not now. Natasha needs you. I need you...”
She choked on a sob as she frantically dragged him away from the spreading crimson stain on the floor. Behind her the doors finally crashed open and suddenly Natasha was there, dropping down opposite her, white-faced and terrified.
“Yelena,” she gasped, hand against Peter’s torn chest. “Is he..?”
“I don’t know,” Yelena said raggedly. “We have to get him out of here, get him help...” Gently they lifted him between them. Peter's head lolled limply against Yelena’s shoulder, leaving red smears on her jacket. Blinded by tears, she stumbled after Natasha back the way they had come. So cold, she thought numbly. He’s already so cold.
Somehow they made it back to the Quinjet without further incident. Natasha slid into the pilot seat and sent them rocketing up through the atmosphere while Yelena tried desperately to stanch the bleeding from the gaping hole in Peter’s chest.
“Talk to him,” Natasha ordered tersely over her shoulder. “Keep him with us.” Her knuckles were white on the controls.
Yelena smoothed Peter’s hair back with a bloodstained hand. “Little spider, I need you to be strong,” she whispered. “You're going to be alright, I promise. Just hold on a little longer.”
Natasha blinked back tears as she listened to Yelena's voice break. She had done this, she thought wretchedly. Because of her Peter was dying, and Yelena - Yelena who had already endured so much - was having her heart shattered.
“Yelena.” She reached a hand back weakly. Yelena's fingers gripping hers were icy cold. “It wasn't your fault. I never should have called him into this. Never should have let you get close.”
Yelena lifted her head, eyes burning. “Do not,” she bit out harshly. “He knew the risks. He chose this, for you. For both of us.” She glanced back down at Peter's waxen face, her expression softening. “He is special, Natasha. He reminded me that it is possible to trust freely, to love without reservation. I will not regret letting him in.”
Natasha had no words, only gripping Yelena's hand tighter through her tears. The Quinjet never flew so fast.
The team was waiting when they arrived, spirits lifting at the sight of Natasha. But the hope died as Yelena and Natasha carried Peter's limp form down the ramp, leaving a trail of rusty footprints.
“Oh god, no,” Tony choked out, faceplate snapping up. He caught Pepper’s hand in a death grip.
Bruce and Dr. Cho raced forward, conferring urgently as they rushed Peter away on a stretcher. The others looked on helplessly, Clint wrapping an arm around Natasha when she swayed unsteadily.
“He'll make it. Kid's too stubborn not to,” Steve said hoarsely, gripping Bucky's shoulder. His eyes met Yelena's, saw the grief etched there. "You both did good. He knew what he was in for."
She nodded wearily, leaning into Natasha. She had never felt so drained, body and soul. Natasha held her close as they hurried after Peter, unwilling to leave him.
The hours of waiting were interminable. No one spoke much. Natasha kept seeing Peter's crumpled form hit the floor over and over. Beside her, Yelena sat taut as a drawn bowstring, staring at the blood drying brown under her fingernails.
When Bruce finally emerged, exhaustion dragging at his features, they clustered around desperately. “He made it through surgery,” Bruce said with visible relief. “He's weak, but his enhanced healing is already kicking in. I think he’ll recover.”
Natasha's knees went weak. She wasn't sure if the sob came from her or Yelena or both. Steve pumped a victorious fist in the air and clapped Bruce on the back. “Can we see him?” Natasha managed.
Bruce nodded. “Just for a minute. He needs to rest.”
They rushed for the room, Yelena hanging back uncertainly. Natasha caught her hand and pulled her along. Peter looked small and fragile tucked into the large hospital bed, his battered suit traded for a hospital gown. But the steady beep of the heart monitor was the most beautiful sound.
Yelena smoothed his hair gently. “Oh Peter,” she murmured. "I'm so sorry."
His eyes fluttered open at her touch. “Did you...get her?” he whispered hoarsely.
She huffed a tearful laugh. “Yes, thanks to you.”
Peter smiled weakly. His gaze shifted. “Mama spider...you okay?”
Her breath caught at the genuine concern in his voice even now. “I'm fine, little spider. Just glad you are safe, baby.” She picked herself up and leaned down to brush a gentle kiss over his forehead.
His smile widened, then his eyes were slipping closed again. Natasha tucked the blanket around him tenderly. Linking her arm through Yelena's, she led them quietly from the room. There would be time to talk later. For now, it was enough just to take comfort in each other’s presence.
Peter's recovery was steady, if slow. Natasha and Yelena took turns sitting by his bed while he slept, talking softly when he woke. It seemed neither could bear to let him out of their sight.
When Peter was finally strong enough to totter out to the common room with an arm slung around each of them, the rest of team welcomed him back joyously. Tony tried and failed to pretend he wasn't wiping away tears. Yelena hovered anxiously until Steve pressed a mug of tea into her hands and guided her to an armchair.
Watching Peter laugh at something Sam said, color back in his cheeks, Yelena felt the panic that had gripped her heart for days finally begin to loosen. He was safe. They all were. What happened in Russia could stay there. Here, now, was what mattered.
As if reading her mind, Natasha appeared and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "How are you holding up?" she asked gently.
Yelena glanced over at Peter, now eagerly recounting the events of the mission for an enthralled audience. "I'm...glad he's safe. That we all made it back." She hesitated. "You were right about him, Natasha. He has a gift."
Natasha smiled fondly at Peter's vibrant gestures. "He does. A gift for piercing even the most guarded of hearts." Her eyes lingered on Yelena knowingly.
Ducking her head, Yelena felt her cheeks warm. "Well. I suppose he is rather easy to care for."
Across the room, Peter glanced up and met her eyes, his smile lighting up his whole face. Yelena couldn't help but smile back, feeling that traitorous heart crack open once more. Oh yes, loving this boy was inevitable. She found she didn't mind at all.
Four Months Later
The piercing scream jolted Yelena from sleep. In an instant she was upright, pistol in hand, senses straining. Another agonized cry echoed through the Tower. Peter. Heart pounding, Yelena burst from her room and raced toward his, nearly colliding with a wild-eyed Natasha in the hallway. Of course she had heard it too.
They reached Peter's room together to find him thrashing in his tangled sheets, face twisted in anguish. "No, please!" he sobbed. "Mom, Auntie Lena, help me!"
Natasha was at his side in an instant, grasping his flailing hands. "Peter, baby, wake up, I'm here," she soothed. She gathered him close as his eyes flew open, gasping and disoriented. Over his head her eyes met Yelena's, dark with remembered pain.
"Shh малыш паук, you're safe," Natasha murmured, stroking his hair as his frantic breaths slowed.
Peter clutched at her, still half trapped in the nightmare. "I couldn't reach you," he mumbled into her shoulder. "They shot me and I was dying and you couldn't save me this time."
"Oh Peter." Natasha's voice was heavy with guilt, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'll always come for you, I promise, my baby."
Yelena hovered helplessly, wishing she could erase the anguish from his face. Peter had been through so much because of them. Because he cared.
At last Peter's trembling stilled. He drew back, scrubbing at the tears on his cheeks. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Stupid nightmare."
"Not stupid at all," Natasha said gently. "That place haunts us too."
Peter's eyes drifted to Yelena's. She wondered if he could see the memories swirling darkly in her mind, of all the times she had woken gasping from visions of the Red Room. Wordlessly she came and sat on his other side, taking his hand in silent support.
"Do you want to talk about it, baby?" Natasha asked.
Peter shivered. "It was back in Russia. Only this time when they shot me, I just kept bleeding out no matter what you did. You were begging me to stay but I couldn't..." His breath hitched on a sob.
Natasha pulled him close again, meeting Yelena's eyes over his head. There was no mistaking the pain and guilt there, echoes of what Yelena herself still felt. If only she had been faster, better...
"I'm still here малыш," Natasha murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."
They sat in silence for a long moment, the only sounds Peter's shaky breaths and the muted roar of the city outside. Yelena kept her hand firmly clasped in Peter's, this tangible proof that he was here with them, alive and safe. She had come so close to losing him. The thought made her chest clench unbearably.
At last Peter drew away, swiping at his eyes. "Sorry for freaking out on you guys," he mumbled, not quite meeting their eyes.
Natasha tilted his chin up gently. "You have nothing to apologize for. We're your family. We'll always be here when you need us." Her eyes flicked to Yelena, soft and knowing. Family. It was still such a foreign concept. But looking at Peter's tearstained face, Yelena knew it was true.
"Try to rest if you can," Natasha went on, smoothing his blanket. "I can stay..."
But Peter shook his head bravely. "I'll be okay now. Don't want to keep you up."
Natasha looked uncertain but nodded. She bent and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head. "I'm just down the hall if you need me." With a final searching glance at Yelena, she slipped out.
Yelena sat awkwardly, unsure if she should follow. But Peter's hand found hers again, tentative. "Will you stay a little longer, Aunt Yelena?" he asked hoarsely.
Her heart squeezed. "Of course, little spider." She moved to sit against the headboard and Peter immediately curled into her side. She wrapped an arm around him, marveling as always at how well he fit there.
"Talk to me?" he requested softly. "About anything. It helps keep the dreams away."
"Hmm." She carded a gentle hand through his curls as she considered. "Did I ever tell you about the first time your mother tried to recruit me to SHIELD?"
Peter shook his head, eyes already drifting half-closed. "Tell me," he mumbled.
She talked softly until she was certain he slept, recounting their first encounter after the Red Room so many years ago. His steady breathing against her was soothing, driving away the lingering darkness. With Peter safe in her arms, the Red Room seemed very far away.
When Natasha peered in sometime later, it was to find them both sound asleep. Peter's face was smooth and untroubled. Her heart clenched at the sight of Yelena curled protectively around him, her normally guarded features soft. Two people she loved most in this world, her son and her sister, finding solace together. Natasha slipped away smiling.
After that night, it became an unspoken routine that whenever the nightmares came, Peter would seek them both out. Yelena or Natasha would slip into his room and simply hold him until he fell back to sleep. And if some nights Yelena fell asleep tucked against Peter's back, his slim form fitting perfectly against hers, neither commented on it. The closeness was a balm, driving away the lingering ghosts.
During the day, Yelena slowly found her place with the team. To her surprise, she enjoyed Sam's easy banter and movies nights with Peter cuddled against her side. Even Stark's antics failed to irritate as much as they once had. When Wanda coaxed her into a girls night with champagne and pedicures, she realized with a start that she was happy.
Peter seemed to glow watching Yelena relax into life at the Tower. "Told you they'd love you, Auntie Lena." he said one day as he dropped beside her on the couch with an impish grin.
"Yes yes, you were right as usual little spider," she sighed, but couldn't help her answering smile. His enthusiasm was infectious. She tweaked his nose. "Glad to see me fit in?"
"Are you kidding? This is the best." He leaned into her side, eyes drifting closed in contentment. "Feels like you were always meant to be here."
Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, she marveled at how a boy barely grown could possess such wisdom. But Peter had known her heart from the start. "I think perhaps I was," she said softly.
On a rare morning when neither had been plagued by dreams, Peter wandered blearily into the kitchen to find Yelena and Natasha deep in conversation. They looked up with matching smiles, Natasha pushing a plate of pancakes toward him. His chest filled with warmth at the rightness of it.
"Morning sweet boy," Natasha hummed, dropping a kiss atop his curls. "Sleep okay?"
He nodded, mouth already full. Across from him, Yelena's eyes were soft. "Eat up little spider. You'll need your energy for training today." But her stern tone was belied by the way she ruffled his hair fondly. Yes, this was exactly where they were all meant to be.
As the days passed, Natasha was struck by a sense of peace she couldn't remember feeling before. Having two of the people she loved most under one roof, safe and thriving, eased something inside her she hadn't realized was strained. Peter's laughter and Yelena's shy smiles filled the holes left by their shared trauma.
It showed in Peter too. The shadows behind his eyes after Russia had nearly broken Natasha's heart. But now he seemed lighter than she'd ever seen him, with an innate understanding of just when Yelena needed coaxing from her shell or when Natasha needed his particular brand of comfort. Her sweet, empathetic boy. He was healing them all.
If Natasha was being honest, watching his bond with Yelena was her favorite thing. She hadn't dared hope her sister would so readily welcome Peter's affection, but then, few were immune to Peter's charm for long. Whether it was the way he leaned into her side during movie nights or Yelena's undivided attention through his rambling accounts of patrols, they fit together like matched blades. Two hearts once convinced they could only bring pain, now blooming together. It filled Natasha with immense hope.
One night after a mission gone late, Natasha passed Peter's room to find both her spiders curled up asleep, Peter tucked securely in the cradle of Yelena's arms. Chest aching at the sight, she slipped in to smooth the hair back from their peaceful faces. "Thank you мой паучок," she whispered before pulling the door silently shut. They would protect each other when she could not.
If Peter was surprised to find himself waking most mornings wrapped safely in his Aunt Yelena's arms, he didn't question it. The nightmare of losing her and Natasha still lingered, making him crave their closeness, the reassurance of their heartbeats under his cheek. He was endlessly grateful they indulged his clinginess without judgement. Without them, he was certain the nightmares would swallow him whole.
"You're safe malen'kiy," Yelena murmured one night when she woke to find tears on his cheeks. And nestled against her strong, steady presence, he could believe it was true. During the days she trained him hard, driving him to new heights, but she was always there after with a healing touch and proud smiles that left him floating. With Auntie Lena and his Mom, he felt invincible.
If he was being honest, seeing Yelena thrive at the Tower filled him with fierce satisfaction. The smiles that slipped through her stern facade, the fondness in her voice when she called him little spider...He adored this new side of her only he and Natasha were privileged to see. He was honored to provide the same comfort for her that she gave him. Curled together at night, the Red Room couldn't touch them.
And so it was that the ones who had suffered most from that terrible place found healing in each other. Peter's laughter, Yelena's shy affection, Natasha's watchful eye - together they built a home where the past could not haunt them. The love between a mentor for a mother, a sister, and a boy who refused to let darkness in proved more powerful than any lingering nightmares. They were, simply, family.