Backstabber

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"Yelena, what did you do? What did you do?!"

Yelena Belova didn't register the frantic inquiry. Her ears rang. Her whole body shook. Nerves fully shot, eyes dead.

She looked down. Her hands were coated in blood. An impossibly sharp knife in a back. It was a swift death for the man lying limp before her; a job well done... so why did something feel so off?

Yelena had killed hundreds, hell, maybe thousands, over the course of her career, snapping necks and slitting throats like it was her day job. Granted, the vast majority of those kills were not exactly of her own volition, but it was still her body, still her skill set, still her reputation.

So, when confronted with the man whom she thought murdered her sister, she did what she did best, what she was raised to do.

She killed.

But... something ate at Yelena, nipping at her like the biting wind of a frigid December night in Manhattan. A pit formed in her stomach, heavy and leaden, and she stomped down the possibility that she had made the wrong choice. Clint Barton deserved to die.

Right?

"What the fuck did you do?" Came the voice again, more distraught now.

Horrified, Yelena turned, feeling something other than numb for the first time since she buried her blade in Clint Barton's back. "You were not supposed to see this..."

"You-" Kate's voice cracked like the ice beneath her as she knelt by the man, boots crunching on the scarlet stained surface below. "You actually did it... I was too late..."

"Kate Bishop..."

"Don't you 'Kate Bishop' me," she spat, shaking her head in disbelief, disgust, and rage. "I can't believe I ever thought you were different."

The words hit Yelena harder than she thought they would, and the presence of the archer brought her back to reality momentarily. They had to get out of here, and fast. With this kill, Yelena's name was at the top of a lot of lists, and with Kate here, lingering over a body, contaminating the scene, the optics were not great for her either.

"We must go," Yelena urged, taking a chance and grabbing Kate by the elbow.

"We?" The archer yanked her arm away, enraged. "We?"

"Unless you want to get arrested," Yelena responded, every hair on her neck raising as she analyzed her surroundings, body still coiled to strike like a cobra. More police cars pulled up every passing second; straggling tracksuits struggled to their feet. The assassin stepped toward Kate again, speaking gently, a far cry from the brutality she had exhibited just minutes before. "We have to go."

Eyes flashing, mind running through scenarios, Kate knew she was right. Her boot prints were scatttered around the scene just as Yelena's, dozens of witnesses saw her rush in to check the body before it was even cold. For all the cops and FBI knew, she was an accomplice to the murder of Clint Barton.

Thoughts fractured into a million different pieces, asking a thousand different questions, Kate felt as though she was having an out of body experience as she vaguely felt Yelena tug her by the hand. The archer barely registered sprinting for cover, slipping through alleyways and side streets.

The festive shine of Christmas lights dimmed the further Kate and Yelena slinked into the shadows of the city that never slept, and after tonight, Kate wasn't sure she would ever sleep either.

"Stop." Huffed Kate after what felt like hours. Her lungs burned, cramps spread across her abdomen like painfully blooming flowers. "Just... gimme a minute."

Catch Me When I Fall // KateLena AUWhere stories live. Discover now