The Spider Sisters
“I still don’t like you talking to her outside of drop-offs,” Natasha pointedly looked at her sister's phone as she spoke in her mother tongue.
“And I don’t like when you snoop over my shoulder,” Yelena muttered under her breath, “and besides Melina’s the only one we know of who can synthesize antidote without raising any alarms.”
“When I’m back at work next week I’ll have one of the scientists take a look,” the redhead had already sent a tentative email to FitzSimmons to see if they could replicate the serum, “then we can cut ties completely.”
“Well, not completely,” the younger woman protested, “the farm is still the best place to send the newly freed girls.”
“Like I said, give me a little more time on that one,” Natasha walked over to the stove in the studio apartment she and Yelena had been living in, and stirred spaghetti sauce that was simmering.
The two of them had been in Russia for the better part of two months, at first moving from safe house to safe house as they double-checked that The Room was taken down for good. After that, Natasha purchased a studio apartment in Moscow that they had been living in while Yelena adjusted to reality and free will. Fury and Maria had been able to keep her on “personal leave” for as long as possible, but at the end of the week, she would be leaving the apartment (and her sister) to lead a covert operation.
“Don’t put your feet on the counter,” she scolded, watching her sister hop up on the surface next to her.
“Ugh, you’re such a mom,” Yelena rolled her eyes as she let her feet dangle.
The redhead hummed in response, used to the retort the younger women would give her, “what do you know about Malta?”
“Ooo Mediterranean, is that where they are sending you?” Yelena wiggled her eyebrows.
“Maybe,” Natasha stirred the sauce, it was a recipe she had learned from Maria.
“Three people were mysteriously poisoned in 2004 on the second floor of the Casa Rocca Piccola Hotel in Valletta,” the blonde kicked her feet out and let them fall against the cabinetry below her.
Natasha snorted, “not really the information I was looking for, but thank you.”
“Well, let me think,” the younger woman sat in contemplation.
It was a common occurrence Natasha had learned over the last few months. She would ask her sister about a location, a person, or a time point and while the blonde could pull out some information, oftentimes it was only bits and pieces or relevant based solely on the mission she had been on. Yelena had been under subjugation for so long that her brain was unable to hold on to information outside of what was useful to The Room.
“They filmed the Gladiator movie there,” the young woman finally said with a nod, “and there is a place where local people jump from cliffs into the ocean below them.”
“Did you get to go?” It was a question based on who she had visited the country with while carrying out the mission.
“No, Katarzyna was my handler that year.”
It was all the explanation Natasha needed. Katarzyna was a year younger than her with blonde hair, a round face, and a mean streak that rivaled some of the madams. She had to suppress a shudder knowing that her little sister had been forced to be around that woman for a full year.
“Will you get the plates out? This is almost done,” she nodded towards the food on the stove, thanking the blonde as she filled plates for both of them.
“Truly, I am thankful to your girlfriend,” Yelena slurped up a noodle, “you’re a terrible chef and this is totally edible.”
“Not my girlfriend-” the redhead started.
“Yeah, okay,” Yelena barked out a laugh between bites.
“And second, it’s not like either of us ever learned how to make anything outside of ‘nutrients that are edible’ anyway,” she put the words in air quotes.
It was the truth, she had picked up a few dishes from Laura and May after she defected, but it wasn’t until she started to hang out with Maria more, that she figured out different spices and flavors that worked together. She planned on making a squash soup later that week in honor of the fall season that had crept in during their move.
“Speak for yourself! I’ll have you know I am a great chef,” Yelena argued.
“You make macaroni and cheese every time I ask you to cook.”
“I see nothing wrong with that and sometimes I add things to it. Gah, so ungrateful Natalia.”
“Sriracha and canned vegetables don’t really count as great additions,” she smiled and continued eating as she poked fun at the young woman across from her.
The two sat in relative silence as they continued to eat, Yelena out of habit, Natasha out of comfort as she listened to the city around them. It was one of the reasons she had chosen this apartment; the subtle vibrations of the metro as it ran by the apartment, the smell of Pirozhki being made by carts on the street below them, all of it to keep the memories of silence and order at bay.
Living in small amounts of chaos as a form of therapy was something she had figured out with Clint, a memory she kept to herself. Until now. Yelena didn’t have memories in the way that Natasha did, and so while for the majority of her life Natasha was content to keep them to herself, she now openly shared them with her sister who listened to her every word.
“It’s better, right?” she asked the blonde who was relaxed as she ate, “the background noise?”
“It’s… it gives me something to think about so I don’t-” Yelena visibly tensed.
“So you don’t think about The Room,” her sister finished for her, “Clint picked up on it before I did when I first left.”
She was happy to leave it there, but after seeing how interested in the story Yelena was, she continued.
“We were on the carrier and I thought I was going crazy,” the spy let out a deep breath, “I was in a room on the far end of the ship, World Council probably thought I was going to go on a killing spree or something. Anyway, it was so quiet and I was constantly looking over my shoulder, thinking someone was going to break in and take me back to Dreykov, until one day I got a notice that I was being moved to a different room.”
The piece of paper had been slid under her door, the first thing she thought was that she was being kicked out, or jailed. She read the notice three additional times before she realized it was simply a room reassignment.
“I got to the new spot, right on the side of the ship next to the motors, and thought ‘oh god how am I going to hear anything with these massive turbines’. But it turned out, it was right next to Clint’s room,” she smiled remembering the first time he showed her how the vents could get them around the ship, “Between him constantly talking, and the turbines I could barely hear anything.”
“How’d you hear if someone was coming?” Yelena was practically on the edge of her seat.
“That’s the thing, I couldn’t. By the time I had figured it out, I noticed that I had been sleeping better and checking over my shoulder less. Being here is kind of like that, constant noise and smells and lights that you get to think about instead of the Red Room.”
“Plus, the old people that die here leave behind wonderful clothing,” the younger of the two showed off the sleeves of her sweater, “thrifted this last week.”
“Was that before, or after you freed that widow and broke into the apartment next door?” Natasha was pretty certain that while her sister did spend a lot of time in thrift stores, this particular item was too nice to be on a rack in a second-hand store.
“What?” the blonde covered her mouth in fake abhor, “I will have you know that I only broke in to get better access to the widow in the apartment next door. And… the owner had been dead and gone for weeks before I took this.”
“You’ll get yourself in trouble one of these days,” Natasha rolled her eyes fondly, “the morally grey fashion monger.”
“I expect you do have something written with that title by the end of the night,” Yelena flipped her hair and crossed her legs in her best impression of an editor at a design magazine.
It was moments like this, everything stripped away, that they were “normal”. Natasha loved to write, her sister loved fashion, from an outside perspective they looked like any other pair of sisters chasing big dreams.
Later, as they cleaned up the dishes and lay on the couch, the reminder that they were not normal sisters dragged them back to reality as their phones vibrated simultaneously.
<Msg>
Melina V: Most recent Widow believes 2 under subj. live in Mink. Will send address when available nxt week. Able to go?
Natasha looked at her sister, knowing that she would agree to go. No matter the risk, no matter the distance, Yelena would free any widow she could from chemical subjugation.
“I’ll be at the mercy of SHIELD until the end of the month,” she announced as she watched the blonde who was already typing.
Natasha: Working until Dec.
YB: Send the address and details, I’ll see what I can do.
“You know you don’t have to go, she has other girls at the farm who can give the antidote just as well as you,” Natasha wasn’t sure if the protective side would ever lessen when it came to feelings about her sister.
“If I can go, I will,” the blonde stiffened, “you don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Natasha herself had never been put under subjugation to that extent.
“Any extra time those girls spend under is more time it will take to get them out. Plus with the- with everything gone, who knows who’s controlling them,” she typed on her phone again.
Finally, the woman looked up from her device and smirked, “besides, you’re wrong. I’m Yelena Belova, no one can do it as well as I can.”
“The broccoli needs to be eaten by the end of the week, don’t just throw it away,” Natasha spoke quickly as she wrote on the notepad in front of her, “and the repair guy is going to be here on Tuesday to fix the-”
“Sink,” Yelena rolled her eyes, “and the soup on the stove needs to cool for another hour before I eat it. I got it, systera.”
The redhead looked up from the note in front of her and shrugged, “I know you do, I just-”
“Think I’m going to burn the whole place down by Wednesday,” her sister insisted.
“Nah, I’d give you until Thursday,” she waved her hand dismissively, “what else am I missing?”
“Your flight if you don’t leave soon,” the blonde muttered.
“I heard that,” Natasha threw over her shoulder as she walked into the area they kept their bed and dressers, “okay, your vest is washed and hanging up to dry next to my hoodies. If you wear my stuff while I’m gone, don't get stains on them.”
The blonde had slowly been coming into her own style with brighter colors and textured fabrics that Natasha had categorized as “classically fabulous”. The outfits were everything the Red Room was not, Yelena had gone from black uniforms and uncomfortable sultry attire to long beautiful coats and sparkling jewelry. However, she still retreated into her big sister’s soft, warm hoodies or the tightness of her green vest when she had bad days when the horrors of the Red Room overtook her thoughts. Days like this were the main reason for Natasha’s own anxiety increasing as she got ready to leave the apartment.
“Anything else, anything else,” she absentmindedly drummed her fingers on the duffle bag in front of her, “oh! Halloween is tomorrow, trick or treaters might come knocking but I don’t want you opening the door for anyone.”
Natasha was sure The Room was gone, she was sure that any remaining members had gotten the message about this as well and would not be coming to look for them. Still, she worried about her sister, about her safety both physically and mentally. Yelena averted her eyes as the redhead came back into the room, making herself look like the nervous 20-year-old she was.
“I stashed an extra bag of candy for you on the top shelf,” she gave the blonde a soft smile and a wink, “okay, anything else?”
“No, now go so I can watch in peace,” Yelena shooed her sister out the door while she selected the show she wanted to watch. Unsurprisingly she was re-watching Sex in the City.
“Okay, you have Maria’s number if there’s an emergency and I’m not answering, you go to the address on this notepad if you need to run, and we check in every day, yeah?” She kissed the younger woman on top of her head from where she was seated on the couch.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, now go,” the blonde didn’t look away from the screen, “this is my favorite season.”
“Love you, eat your vegetables, and don't talk to strangers. Okaybye,” Natasha chuckled as she walked to the front door.
“Okay, I don’t hate you, bye!” Yelena laughed as she turned the volume on the TV up.
The Russian pulled the door closed behind her and locked it into place, there was something comforting about the latch of the deadbolt on the door that had been there since it was built in the 40s. The apartment wasn't anything special to look at, but it was old which meant that the walls were made of concrete and the locks were made from steel, another one of the reasons that she had picked it out. It wasn’t new and easily broken into, something she had learned after buying her third or fourth safehouse.
She checked her watch and picked up the speed as she rounded the staircase to the main street. The wind was already bitterly cold as she walked out to the main road, hoping that she could hail a taxi in time to make it to her flight. It wasn’t until she got to her gate at the airport that she pulled out her phone to check for any notifications. Specifically notifications from a certain handler that she could now text without her sister’s peering eyes or jokes.
“The boarding process will begin in 10 minutes,” the man behind the front desk said in a clipped tone over the speaker as she scrolled through her phone.
<Msg>
Ria: Give me a call if you can, not urgent. If not, stay safe.
Natasha: Missed this earlier, free for 10 if you are?
She (not so patiently) waited as she leaned against the glass of the window that overlooked the tarmac. Another few minutes passed before her phone finally vibrated.
“Hey,” she smiled as she answered the phone.
“Not until after dinner… no- Hey Tasha!” Maria shifted her attention from whoever was in front of her (most likely Ellie) to Natasha.
“Bad time?” She questioned, hoping she didn’t sound too desperate. Maria was one of the only people she would call on the phone.
“Nope, all yours- er- I mean. No, it’s not a bad time,” the Commander stumbled over her words, Natasha could practically see the blush blooming across her face.
There was something about the stumble that the Russian found extremely attractive. Natasha had seen Deputy Director Hill laugh in the face of mass murderers three times her size; she had seen the Commander put together a wildly successful mission plan with a cup of coffee, a broken pen, and a single sticky note; she had seen the Ice Queen level world leaders with a single look. But as soon as Ria was talking to Natasha, she would trip over her words as if she was speaking them for the first time.
“Well good, I have several free minutes before my flight and would like to say hi,” Natasha spoke in English for the first time in weeks.
“Well, hi,” Maria responded, “off to the Mediterranean?”
“Yep,” she nodded despite the knowledge that Maria wasn’t there to see it.
“Three-week intel?” leave it to the brunette to know the details.
“Yeah, but it should not be too bad. Maybe I’ll work on my tan,” the redhead glanced down at her pale skin knowing that unless her mark was a beachgoer, she wouldn’t actually get the opportunity to.
“Natasha Romanoff with a tan?” Maria snorted.
“Hey, you never know,” she smiled despite herself, “did you decide to go to the farm?”
They had texted about it a few days prior, Maria was still on the fence about how Ellie would respond to going up to strangers' doors and asking for candy. Natasha understood, she had similar feelings about leaving Yelena alone for the same reason.
“Yeah, we're here now. Laura and the kids say hi to Auntie Nat, Clint said to text him if anything changes between now and evac,” the brunette responded.
Clint was almost always Natasha’s ride home, regardless of where she was located. He was one of the few people she trusted to get her out of bad situations and stitch her up on the plane ride if needed.
“Yes, I will let him know,” she listened as the gate agent started boarding passengers.
“Cool cool cool… so- speaking of when the missions complete- I know it will be a few weeks but um,” Maria cleared her throat, Natasha smiled at the awkwardness, “I was wondering, just because it’s close or whatever but if you don't have any other plans Iwouldbehappytotakeyoutodinner… for your birthday I mean.”
It was true, her birthday was right after the mission was planned on being complete and while she didn’t normally celebrate it, it would be nice-
“Just I know you don’t celebrate so it wouldn’t have to be anything big and maybe you want to see Yelena but if you didn’t,” the Commander's words were rushed as she cut her train of thought.
“As of now, I have no plans,” she got in line and handed the agent her ticket, “and would be happy to have dinner with you.”
“Okay, cool. So I can text you about it then,” Natasha could hear the smile on the other woman's face.
“Thank you,” she smiled to the flight attendant who showed her to her seat, “Yeah, Ria, that sounds good but I have to go.”
“Yeah, yeah of course,” Maria cleared her throat, “I’ll text you, stay safe okay?”
“I will. Okaybye.” she hung up the phone and carefully fell into the persona that she would need to be in for the next three weeks.
As she expected, her mark was in fact, not a beachgoer. Instead, he was a gambling addict which meant plenty of leverage for SHIELD and mostly night work for Natasha as she discreetly followed the man for weeks. It was just after the first week that she gained access to his laptop, and just before the third week before she downloaded all of the necessary files while he threw away thousands of dollars in the casino below his hotel room.
She was in the process of scanning through the information when there was a knock at her door, she wasn’t expecting anyone and slowly released the safety on her handgun as she approached the peephole.
“Fucking Clint,” she opened the door just wide enough for him to slip into the room before punching him in the arm, “you’re not supposed to be here until the morning.”
“Ow,” he smiled and rubbed the sore spot on his arm, “I may have forgotten exactly how timezones work. Either way, I’m here now! Ooo is this the intel?”
The Russian slammed her laptop closed, “maybe.”
“Come on, let me take a peak,” he wiggled his fingers in front of the computer.
“No,” she held it further away from him, “you’re not going to find it interesting anyway.”
“You don’t know that, maybe I will,” the blonde pouted.
“No, now let me finish up and we can get out of here,” she sat down on the bed once more and opened the screen.
“You’re never this secretive.”
“We’re spies Barton, we’re always this secretive,” she rolled her eyes.
“Not with each other,” he had a point, “you’re not like this with me unless it has to deal with- oh God, Tasha please don’t tell me you’re sending this information to another widow.”
She waved her hand dismissively and continued to scan through the data. There was a smaller arms dealer that was buying from this man, small enough to where SHIELD probably wouldn’t actually pay any attention to it. In fact, she wouldn’t have paid any attention to it, if it wasn’t for the location of the trade. Minsk.
“No no no,” Clint flopped on the bed, “you always do this, and then I have to hold on to the secret and you know how bad I am at that!”
It was true the man was terrible at keeping secrets, which given his profession, was alarming.
“Which is exactly why I’m not telling you anything,” she continued to scroll.
“By not saying anything, you’re telling me what you’re doing,” he flailed his arms dramatically, “why am I always getting into these situations with you? All the other agents just do the job and leave, but no, not Tasha. There’s always an element of danger.”
“You’re so dramatic, it’s nothing important anyway,” the Russian finally found what she was looking for and sent the information to her sister.
She jotted a quick note to urge her sister to take competent backup in case there was a link between the two cases (there was no way there wasn’t), meaning the widows still under subjugation would be heavily armed. At least she had a better picture of who Yelena would be up against when she went to free the women.
“It’s important enough for SHIELD to want it,” the blonde propped himself up on his elbows.
“SHIELD wants everything, they’re always looking into gaining more information,” she closed the laptop and slid it into her backpack.
“Says the woman trained by the Soviets,” he walked over and picked up her duffle bag, “maybe we should just do our job and cash the check.”
“Says the man trained by the circus,” the Russian smiled and followed him out of the room, “besides, people should at least have the option of knowing some of this stuff.”
The blonde huffed and closed the door behind him, knowing that there was truth to what she was saying. They continued down to the lobby of the hotel and out onto the main road where Barton weaved them strategically in and out of traffic until they were safely in the hangar of the Quinjet. There he ran through the pre-flight checklist, as well as a once over to make sure she wasn’t hiding any injuries.
“Laur wants me to ask you about your date,” he finished the checklist and slid into the co-pilot seat.
“Not a date,” she pulled the headset over her ears and fastened the harness around her body.
“She says it is,” he flipped various switches and pulled his own headset on, “you gotta give me something to give her so I can say I asked you about it.”
“We’re just,” she started the engine and patched into the local control tower, “getting dinner.”
“Diner, or dinner dinner,” the blonde asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“God, you’re as bad as Lena,” she ignored him and started speaking to the controller.
It wasn’t until they were on autopilot that he tried again, this time sounding less like a pestering teenager, and more like a concerned brother.
“So, this non-date,” he fiddled with the tip of an arrowhead he pulled out of seemingly nowhere, “you nervous?”
“No,” her response was immediate, “well… maybe a little.”
“I would be too, I know she’s like our friend but sometimes when she flips back into Commander mode I get scared,” the blonde shrugged.
If she was being honest, it was actually extremely attractive to her when Ria switched back into the Deputy Director Hill persona.
“It’s just everything is different now ya know?” The Russian leaned back in her seat, “She has a kid, and I have Yelena and I mean I haven’t really seen her for the better part of a year now.”
“Yeah, but you thought the same thing right before we had Coop, remember?”
She did remember, in fact, it was one of the only reasons she had agreed to go on the date, dinner. The months before Cooper's birth, she had distanced herself believing that there wouldn’t be room for her now that they were having a kid. The night Laura went into Labor she called Natasha in anger and tears asking where she was. The redhead took the next flight out and made it right before the birth, never again questioning if there would be enough love to go around for her.
“I remember your wife nearly crushing my hand while you passed out,” she smiled and tried to diffuse the situation.
“It was so hot in that room, and they said it happens all the time,” he muttered.
It was quiet for a moment longer before the archer spoke again.
“I think you just have to stop being afraid of being happy,” he twirled the arrow on the tips of his fingers, “either it will work out, or it won't. That’s life. But either way, you’re going to learn from it.”
“That was- oddly deep for you, Barton. Thank you.”
“What can I say, maybe I’m the next Picasso,” the blonde dropped the arrowhead and picked it up, hitting his head on the control panel in front of him.
Natasha shook her head and smiled, going over his words for the rest of the flight back to DC.
It had taken the better part of an hour (and two video chats with her sister) before she was finally satisfied with her appearance. They had decided to meet in one of the parks by the restaurant so that Maria could drop Ellie off with a friend's family for a few hours while they had dinner.
Her fingers twitched nervously in her pocket, it had been almost three months since she had left Maria’s apartment, she had thought about her every day. The only thing keeping her in the present was the cold air that swirled around her as she rounded the last building. She could see the park, illuminated in a beautiful assortment of colored lights that hung from most of the trees, and glanced down at her watch, right on time.
It was as if the world slowed as she got her first real look at Maria with Ellie. The brunette had just crouched down in front of the child, she had a soft smile as she talked to the girl, seemingly reassuring her as she fixed the child's coat and brushed her thumbs across the curly-haired girl’s cheeks. Get it together Natalia, you’ve seen Maria- no, actually you haven't and this is… this is really doing something for you. She blinked a few more times and started walking again after noticing she had stopped dead in her tracks at the sight.
“Hey Tasha,” Maria straightened herself as she stood, bringing Natasha in for a hug.
She smelled like mint and coffee, she smelled like home. The Russian inhaled as she pulled herself out of the embrace.
“Hey,” Natasha smiled and glanced down to see the small child who had tucked herself behind Maria’s leg, “Hi, Ellie.”
The girl stiffened and waved, unwilling or more likely, unable to make eye contact. She had grown slightly from when the redhead last saw her. Green eyes quickly glanced up from where they were hidden behind Maria’s waist, her cheeks had filled out too now that Natasha could get a better view. She looked more like a 5-year-old and less like a widow.
“Look,” Maria placed her hand on the girl's head, guiding it to where a family of three was walking up, “once second, Tasha.”
“Take your time,” she nodded and watched as the girl pointed to the playground and took off with a little boy.
The brunette talked to two adults, one of which she was pretty certain was a lower-level agent, for a few moments before calling the child back over and giving her a hug. The two signed to one another before Maria kissed the top of the girl's head and waved to the adults.
“Okay, we're good,” she sighed and smiled as she walked up to Natasha, “dinner?”
“Dinner,” Natasha returned the smile and walked with Maria, letting her take the lead. She was certain she wouldn’t steer her wrong.