Widow Sisters and Friends (Restoring Our Broken Hearts)

From the Start

Almost as if Natasha had somehow magically summoned the girl, Yelena came stumbling through the door, her eyes big and wide as she peered inside. Natasha swiftly hid the knife underneath her pillow, not wanting any questions. Not that she really thought that the pudgy little thing was even able to ask any, but she was not about to take chances. Besides, since she was here, one of the older agents were likely not too far behind.

"You're supposed to be in bed," Natasha pointed out, her voice not as gruff as it would have been with anyone else. Yelena jumped a little at the sound of her voice, but she quickly looked at her.

As soon as those sparkling eyes locked onto Natasha's, Yelena's entire face lit up in a smile, and she hurried over as fast as her far too tiny, far too clumsy legs could carry her. Natasha felt a strange fear and trepidation creeping upon her even though she knew logically that she was capable of killing this creature.

However, somehow even the thought of remotely injuring the girl hurt her far too much.

"Pretty!" Yelena called, reaching up toward Natasha as her pudgy little fingers made grabby hands toward her from where she was perched on top of the bed. Natasha just stared at her blankly for a moment, taking in the fact that Yelena obviously thought her name was Pretty. And Natasha truly had no idea how Yelena had come up with that when Natasha knew that she was not pretty at all. Not truly.

"No, it's Natasha," Natasha corrected, her voice not able to conjure quite as much as steeliness as she would have liked. She wanted to be harsh to Yelena, but something in her kept her from addressing her as she normally would other girls with which she had come into contact in the Red Room. Of course, something about Yelena just was not like the other girls in the Red Room.

"Natty!" Yelena excitedly changed her name as she continued to wordlessly ask to be picked up. Natasha sighed but something in her was pulling her toward the little curly-haired blonde.

"It's Natasha," Natasha reminded softly and with a small hint of exasperation.

However, she did finally reach out to Yelena very hesitantly, and Yelena moved her arms a little in excitement. Natasha uncertainly took hold of her, pulling her up onto the bed as she let her sit there before her. Natasha eyed her oddly, and Yelena grinned widely with a laugh.

To Natasha's shock, Yelena suddenly started to crawl toward her. Natasha's eyes widened with uncertainty as she gazed at the girl.

"What are you doing?" Natasha questioned, backing away a little as she scooted toward her headboard and tried to escape her. Natasha felt a nervousness building within her. She did not know how to handle something so gentle and soft. She was the utter and complete opposite of that.

However, Yelena continued to smile that mischievous grin as she grew nearer. Natasha continued to back up until her back hit the headboard.

"Woah, woah, what are you—"

Natasha immediately stopped as Yelena crawled in the space between her legs and moved up her torso a little to rest her head on Natasha's chest. Natasha completely froze, her legs framing either side of Yelena's body.

She scarcely breathed for a long time, her eyes wide and wild as she just stared down at the blonde head of hair resting against her so trustingly.

Something weirdly warm was blossoming in Natasha's chest, and it was a feeling she had never really experienced in her entire lifetime. It was something that was strangely real. Strangely emotional.

But widows were made of marble. They felt nothing but perhaps hatred for other girls, loyalty to the Red Room, and a desire to win.

So how was she supposed to explain what she was feeling so oddly intensely right now? What even was this emotion? She had never felt it, and it scared as well as thrilled her. She wanted it to leave but at the same time, she never wanted it to disappear.