Chapter 15
There’s a bruise on her jaw that she can’t hide. She doesn’t flinch as the commander’s fingers grip her chin and pull her head up to look at it. This is the tenth time she’s showed up on base. She’d spend a few hours with the director while they wait for John to finish up whatever he was doing. Then she’d be sent off with John to return to base.
“What happened?” The woman questioned, her thumb brushing against the bruise.
She’s quiet. “I got in a fight…” It was the truth. She was the victor. She killed them. “At school.”
The commander lets out a hum, pulling her hand away to instead rest it on her back to show her toward the director’s office as usual.
She retakes the usual seat in front of his desk to wait for John Daniel to finish for the day. The director isn’t there. The commander settles her with more paper and pens but has to leave when a message comes through her earpiece.
“I’ll be right back,” The woman said, briefly touching the top of her head before leaving.
The room is empty. She pulls the flash drive from her shoe and plugs it into the computer. She just has to wait for the light on the flash drive to turn green.
Only moments after the light turns green and she pulls it out does the door swing open and she freezes.
“Who are you?”
She’s had a gun pulled on her plenty of times before. Still, the sight of the director that had laughed and called her ‘little miss’ pointing the barrel of his gun at her frightens her.
“I--” She steps back, the flash drive gripped tightly in her fist. “What?”
The director steps into the room. She moves back until her back is pressed against the wall.
“Who are you?” The question is repeated, the gun not wavering from its place. “Who do you work for?”
She keeps quiet because whatever they do to her will surely hurt less than whatever they have planned for her when she gets back.
He moves his hand out and she flinches, expecting the hit. She glances at his hand in confusion when it never makes contact.
“Give whatever you took back,” He said, his hand held out, palm upturned as he waits. “It’s okay. Just give it back.”
She can’t. They’ll kill her if she fails. He jolts forward to take it and she shoves the flash drive into her mouth.
He grabs the front of her shirt and she forces herself to swallow the piece of equipment.
“What did you take?” He demands, shaking her with the grip on her shirt.
She won’t reply. She waits until he hesitates before she twists in his grip, using her small stature against him and relieves him of his gun.
He raises an eyebrow as he watches her. “Do you know how to use that?”
She looks down at the gun and flicks the safety off, holding it up to point it at him.
She doesn’t want to use it. She doesn’t want to kill anybody.
She wants her mama and her daddy and her sister. But her mama’s dead, her daddy gave them away, and they took her sister from her.
“Put the gun down,” His voice doesn’t waver despite the fact she had a gun trained at his head. “Nobody needs to get hurt.”
“I can’t--” The words slip past her lips before she can stop them.
“We can help you,” He promises. “Put the gun down. We can talk.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.” She repeats quietly, steadying her breathing as her finger lay on the trigger.
“We can help you,” He says once again, his hand held out as if meant to soothe her. “Nobody has to get hurt. Come on. It’s okay. Give me the gun.”
“Director?” The door opens, the director turns, and the gun goes off.
Yelena wakes up in Natasha’s room. Her sister is curled up around her, fast asleep.
Yelena is still, taking a moment to try and remember what had happened.
Natasha’s arms are wound around Yelena’s stomach, pulling her close. Yelena couldn’t get up without waking her.
Not that she wants to. Yelena wants nothing more than to turn and burrow into her sister’s hold and sleep.
She’s tired. Tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of forgetting.
She doesn’t want to be Yelena Belova, Widow from the Red Room.
She wants to be Yelena Belova, Natasha Romanoff’s little sister.
She wants to be six years old again and blissfully unaware of the horrors that the world held.
She wants her biggest fear to be the monster that lives under her bed that her daddy will valiantly battle each night before bed.
She wants the worst thing her mama had done to be burning dinner to the point that they had to eat fast food.
She wants the biggest secret she held was the fact that her daddy snuck her and her sister a bar of chocolate before dinner.
She wants the only scars on her body to be from roughhousing with the neighborhood boys when they said she couldn’t play football with them.
She wants the only dancing she knew to be from taking the ballet class that the local YMCA offered.
She wants her first kiss to be with someone that she liked at her school and not from a grown man when she had barely turned double-digits.
She wants to be able to rebel against the rules without fear of being beaten into submission if she steps even a toe out of line.
She wants to be the little girl that was left behind in Ohio.
Is it even possible to mourn for someone you never got to be? Grieve for a life that you never had?
She doesn’t even realize that she’s crying until a tear slides down her cheek and jaw, tickling just under her ear before sinking into the soft pillowcase.
She turns and presses her face into Natasha’s shoulder. Natasha awakes with a slight jerk but barely hesitates pulls Yelena closer.
Yelena doesn’t break into heaving sobs but she does allow herself to cry, tucking her head between Natasha’s chest and the pillow as she feels tears fall.
Natasha tugs the hair ties from Yelena’s hair, carding her fingers through the braids until they unravel. Yelena squeezes her eyes shut.
“I’m sorry…” She whispers, her words muffled in the fabric of Natasha’s shirt.
Natasha strokes her hair. “You know that I’m not mad at you, little one.” She said softly. “I’m not upset.”
“I don’t know how to keep doing this,” Yelena whispers the confession, her fingers curling into Natasha’s shirt to try and pull her closer. “I’m so tired, Natasha.”
Her sister’s lips gently press against her forehead. “Everything is going to be alright, I promise,” Natasha mumbles the words against her skin.
Yelena wants to believe her. She really, really wants to believe her.
She wants nothing more than for everything to be alright. To be able to just curl up with her sister and know that everything will be alright.
But there is something swirling in the pit of her stomach, a churn that tells her that something bad will happen soon. Nothing can ever stay good for long, Yelena’s learned that through the years.