mama
Yelena shows up at Maria’s office that night after dinner as she had been instructed to do by Fury. Natasha was busy with Clint although Yelena was sure if she knew how much Yelena was dreading the visit, she’d be there.
Yelena stands in front of the door for far too long before reaching up to knock. Maria’s “enter!” was firm but nowhere near how cold it was earlier. Yelena enters, keeping her head ducked down as she slides into the office.
“What do you need?” Maria sounded curt and Yelena inhales deeply.
“Director Fury instructed me to present myself to you after dinner,” Yelena answered quietly. “Or else he’d put the tracker back onto me.”
“I see.” There was a shuffling of papers as Yelena dares to peek up at where Maria was sorting through mission reports. “You’re dismissed.”
Yelena turns back toward the door before pausing, half-turning to peer back at Maria. “Do you hate me?” She can’t help but blurt out.
Immediately, the sound of shufflings papers stops. “What?”
“Nevermind.” Yelena shakes her head at the stupid question and moves toward the door.
“Stop.” Maria said firmly and Yelena stops in her tracks. “Come here.”
Yelena debates about continuing forward and leaving but eventually turns around and moves back toward Maria’s desk.
“Look at me,” Maria says and Yelena braces herself before glancing up at Maria. “Tell me why you’re asking that.”
Yelena doesn’t know how to put her thoughts into words. “I broke the rules.” She starts. “You were mad at me.” She doesn’t mention the fact that for a few moments, she thought Maria might have struck her earlier.
“Do you think that just because someone gets mad at you that they must hate you as well?” Maria asked and Yelena doesn’t know the right answer. Maria stands and Yelena tenses up slightly, shrinking into herself as Maria approached her.
Yelena can’t help but flinch when Maria reaches out, surprised when Maria draws her into a tight hug. Maria cups the back of her head to her collar, the other drawing Yelena tight against her. “I don’t hate you, Yelena.” Maria says to her, her voice soft. “You scared the shit out of me. You disappeared and nobody could find you. You could have been hurt or in trouble and nobody knew.”
Yelena swallows hard, the same feeling of guilt rolling around in her gut. She doesn’t apologize unless she really truly means it. Yelena slowly reaches up to hug Maria back. “I’m sorry.” She murmurs into Maria’s shoulder.
“I care about you, Yelena. Whether you believe it or not, I really do,” Maria tells her firmly. “And you deserve to have people care about you. You deserve to have people worry about your wellbeing and health.”
Yelena squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight away the tears that prickle at her eyes. She’s still not used to that yet. She’s only been out of the Red Room for a little more than a year and she still has a lot of things to learn.
She doesn’t regret what she did. She’s sorry she made Maria worry so much but she’d do it again, even knowing that she would find out Melina Vostokoff is alive.
Everything is just a little bit too much at the moment and Yelena gets overwhelmed with emotions, twisting to press her face into Maria’s shoulder as tears finally escape. “You are a good person Yelena. Even if you break the rules and even if people get upset at you. What did we say makes a good person?”
“Intention.” Yelena croaks out against Maria’s collar.
“That’s right,” Maria praised softly, her fingers running along the baby hairs on the back of Yelena’s neck. “A lot of people were upset with you for your actions. You must be very overwhelmed with the negative emotions. I shouldn’t have gotten so harsh with you earlier.”
Yelena shakes her head at Maria’s words. “I deserved it.”
“You do not deserve to be yelled at. I lost my cool with you and acted as your friend instead of your Deputy Director,” Maria lets out a soft sigh. “You can cry, sweetheart. It’s just us.”
Yelena can’t help herself at Maria’s words, bursting into tears as she pressed her face harder into Maria’s shoulder to muffle her sobs. Maria holds her close, swaying her gently in place. She gently guides Yelena over toward the couch when Yelena stops muffling her noisy sobs, calming down enough to stop her sobs.
Maria guides Yelena to sit down, sitting next to her and pulling Yelena against her side. Yelena wipes at her face, trying to take carefully measured breaths to stop crying fully.
It’s okay to cry in front of Maria. She’s one of the very few people Yelena will let her walls down around and cry in front of them, the others being Natasha and Bobbi.
Natasha finds them minutes later, her eyes zeroing in on Yelena and the tear tracks on her face. Natasha crosses the room, eyeing Maria and her hold around Yelena as she reaches out for her sister.
Natasha takes a seat on the other side of Yelena, pulling her into her arms protectively.
Yelena feels safe.
Yelena dreams that night, the same recurring dream of her last night in Ohio before she’s ripped away from her sister on that airstrip in Cuba.
Only this time, she’s stuck standing in front of the makeshift stretcher, her head resting on her mama’s chest and her tiny fingers curled into the soft worn fabric of the blue flannel as she inhales the warm spicy scent of her mama. She’s stuck, her bare feet burning against the hot tarmac as her mama gently cups her head to her chest and Yelena can hear the steady drumming of her heartbeat against her ear.
And then there is Natasha, eleven and frightened, pulling Yelena against her side and away from her mama as the guards haul her away, her mama’s hand following Yelena until it falls limp and hangs over the side of the stretcher.
That was the day her mama died.
Then there was the sharp burn against her neck and she suddenly feels so warm and sleepy like when she’d stay up late at night to watch a movie on the television with Natasha, her stomach full of popcorn and juice as she curls into her big sister in the dark room. There are too many hands on her before she’s hauled over the shoulder of the soldier that grabbed her arm and Yelena can’t do anything about it but close her eyes.
Yelena jerks awake, the feeling of phantom fingers grabbing her wrists makes her yank so hard on the pressure around her wrist that there was a cutting sensation in her hand. Finally, a hand appears and the pressure loosens and Yelena gets free, rolling as far from the restraint as possible until she tumbles over the edge of her bed.
Yelena makes an aborted move toward the door before a hand grabs the back of her neck and Yelena can’t help but give into the pressure, a broken sob escaping her lips as the loss of control once again. The hand moves away just as quickly and Yelena backs up the other way until her back hits the wall and she slides down to curl into a tiny ball.
Through blurred teary vision, she finally sees the red hair of her big sister moving to crouch in front of her and reaching out to try and soothe her.
Yelena presses herself against the wall as hard as she can. “Don’t touch me!” Escaping her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears rolling down her cheeks at the feeling of hands on her body. “Please, no!”
She waits but the touch never happens. It’s been nearly a year since Yelena’s cowered away from Natasha’s touch, too afraid of mixing up what was happening in her mind and what was reality.
Yelena tries to drag air into her lungs and cram the memory of Ohio back into the box in the back of her mind to deal with later but it just lingers, the memory slipping through her fingers like sand, coating her skin and grinding against soft flesh like sandpaper.
Yelena thinks of her last session with Moth and the grounding box she had been shown. She could desperately use it now but they had yet to make one. Yelena remembers the paint chips from the box and tries to pick a color. The first color that comes to her mind is the blue of her big sister’s hair.
Yelena forces her eyes open as her gaze flickers around the room to search for blue items.
Shirt. Hairbrush. Shoes. Pack of gum.
Her mama’s flannel. Natasha’s hair. Natasha’s jeans. The logo on the plane--
No. That wasn’t now. Yelena needs to find things now.
Water bottle. Hair tie. Game Boy case. Pajama pants.
Yelena finds each and every blue thing she can in the room and it reminds her of those I Spy books she got from the library a few blocks away from the house in Ohio.
Yelena's eyes finally land on Natasha, kneeling a few feet away from her with concern on her face. The only way Natasha knew how to comfort Yelena was by touch and when Yelena didn’t want her touch, she didn’t know how to help.
“Natashenka,” Yelena finally whimpers out, pushing herself out of the corner where it was safe to seek out her big sister. Natasha pulls her close when Yelena sprawls into her lap, desperately searching for something to tether her mind to so she wouldn’t keep slipping into memories of something that was never real.
Yelena was fine. She was just fine and then she had to be stupid and dumb and sneak out onto that mission.
Ignorance is bliss, they say. That image pulled up on the computer screen showed a woman wearing Yelena’s mama’s face.
Yet, Yelena’s mama was dead. Yelena didn’t know that woman.
Yelena wonders if her mama was ever real at all.
Was it all a lie?
The hugs, the kissing of scraped knees, being taught how to ride a bike, mother’s day cards, “Pain only makes you stronger”.
Pain doesn’t make you stronger. Perhaps, in the beginning, little things will make you stronger.
But when ten-year-old Yelena lay gasping on the floor as she curls into a ball to protect her vital organs, blows raining down on her back from guards after she failed to kill her opponent, another ten-year-old little girl, she thinks of what a lie that was.
At some point, pain will make you break.
And Yelena broke when her mind was taken from her by the very woman she had once called mama.