She looks happy.
Or at least content.
Now that Yelena’s living for herself - or at least trying to - there’s nothing stopping her from scouring every piece of media looking for a glimpse of her sister. Not the barbie hero persona that has little girls around the world clamoring to be just like her (which in and of itself doesn’t sit right with her) but the girl who left bruises on Yelena’s shoulder holding her back from running to the man who sold them out. The girl who let her sleep with her face tucked in her neck when she was afraid the monster under her bed would swallow her whole.
She can only see flickers of it in pictures taken right after battles. There’s a glint in her eye as she stands next to her new family - and if her gut twists every time she thinks of the avengers taking care of her sister, loving her, no one but her needs to know. It’s clear in her posture the way she angles her body to protect the others, especially the archer, the way she used to angle herself in front of Yelena.
And on nights she fights not to fall back into her nightmares, when the Red Room seems to have stained her permanently and no matter how much she tries to scrub the blood from her heart, it keeps pumping through her body, she grits her teeth against the thought of Natasha laughing with her new best friend. Of them touching each other casually as if the mere thought of someone laying a hand on her without the intention to hurt doesn’t sting her eyes. Doesn’t make her curl up alone on the bare mattress with her arms around herself until her body is nothing but stupid yearning and she can think of nothing else.
She thinks of Natasha’s hand slipping from hers.
The press of smooth paper to her fingers, her clammy fingers refusing to let go of the last memory she’d ever have of her hero.
Dreams where she imagined seeing her crimson hair, her hand outstretched for Yelena to hold onto. Her mouth shaping around the words come with me. Leaving the red room behind and running away with her sister, validated in her childish assumption that Natasha would save her, wouldn’t leave her behind.
Until she woke up.
Now, it’s hard not to fall back into the role of little sister - the infernal longing to make her sister proud overtaking her hurt, the shards of glass lodged in her heart since she came to terms with her abandonment. Yelena is nothing if not good at pretending.
They find pieces of their old family once again, and it takes everything in her not to scream, to sob at the thought that the woman she cherished in her memories as the only mother she had ever known had enslaved her to a man like Dreykov. It takes clenching her fists, pressing her nails into her palms, to hold herself back from throwing herself at Alexei in an embrace like he isn't the man who sold them into this life.
She agrees to take down the Red Room not just for herself and her sister, but for every girl plucked from her life to be molded into a tool, useful for nothing more than to be used and discarded. She agrees for her - for the girl she had spent months with during an undercover mission years ago. The hours they’d spend wrapped around each other before Dreykov wiped their minds clean. The way they’d kissed, slow and soft - for stolen glances under the dim glow of the hotel light. The days she’d spent taking full breaths in a life both of them spent smothered. Maria. She’ll find her. When everything is over, she’ll find her.
Yelena plays her part for now - and at times it doesn’t feel like she is, it feels like this is who she is meant to be - but she doesn’t know that yet. It’s something she still has to figure out. Perhaps her sister will help her. Perhaps she will leave once again.
But when she falls out of the base to the ground, eyes closed and smiling - this was a pretty cool way to die - and feels Natasha’s weight slam into her, hold onto her the way she’s dreamt of for decades, she doubts it for just a second. Lets herself believe that her fantasy may be coming true. For once, she will get what she wants.
Natasha lets go. She falls alone. And even as she finds her after, meets her eyes upside down the way they did that evening so long ago, even as she falls into her sister, pressing her lips together to keep from crying, she knows that Natasha is going to leave.
All Yelena can do is strip off her vest and hand it to her sister - fight not to wrap herself around Natasha, demand she take her wherever she goes, even if it’s to save them, the family that never appreciated her sister the way they should have. She smiles instead, pretends she can handle being left alone with the parents she both loathes and can’t help but love.
It’s alright. She’ll find herself alone, the way she always has. She’ll go shopping, buy herself more clothes, adopt a dog. She’ll look for Maria, and help any widow she can in finding herself.
And maybe in a couple of years, she’ll be worthy of her big sister’s love again.