Widow of Siberia

Chapter 5

1992

Her black hair was silky smooth, just like her mother's. Soft and delicate as it glided through Melina’s fingers. Vienna sat fidgeting as she knelt between her mother's knees, back to her as she combed through the strands ready to braid it out of Vienna's face. 

With a soft smile on her face, Melina hummed a gentle melody as her daughter's hair slipped through the comb like it was made of water. 

“Mama,” the two year old said, standing before Melina had the chance to start braiding her hair, “ap-apple now?”

“Can Mama finish your hair first?” Melina asked, reaching out to stop the child from running off. “You've got more tests today.”

A hand gently around her wrist, Melina pulled Vienna back to her in a tight hug as the little girl giggled. The Red Room tested Vienna regularly to see what was becoming of their experiment. Cognitive analysis, motor functions, development. All of it was tracked and compared to that of other children. 

“Then ap-apple?” Vienna asked, leaning into Melina’s shoulder. 

“Then we can have apples, yes,” Melina smiled, resting her cheek on top of Vienna's head as she just held onto her daughter for a moment. “Come on, sit still just a little longer.”

Guiding her with her hands, Melina turned Vienna and knelt her back down on the floor in front of her. She moved as quickly as she could, braiding the silky black hair tightly to keep it in place. Two French braids, each tied with elastic. 

“Close your eyes,” Melina said, putting her hand between Vienna's face and the hair spray as she contained the little wisps of hair left over. “There we go.”

With a soft kiss onto the top of her head, she released Vienna to get her energy out before the other scientists and commanders arrived. As expected, Vienna ran straight to the kitchen where the apples were. She was an intelligent child, developing well but not exceptionally. The numbers the Red Room were expecting were impossible. Children struggle and regress, it is how they grow. 

#####

2025 

Heart aching like it had been freshly broken and not ripped to pieces thirty two years ago, Melina closed her eyes as she brushed through her hair. It wasn't as soft as Vienna's had been at that age but Melina could still picture what it was like to feel her daughter's hair. She couldn't look at the mirror in front of her. They looked alike. Even now, even beneath her scars, Melina could see herself in Vienna's face. She could see Vienna in her's. 

Putting down the comb, her hands moved steadily to braid her own hair into the pinned crown that kept it off her neck. 

“Are you alright?” Natasha said, that gravel in her tone, soft and almost soothing. 

Melina took a breath, letting her hands fall to her lap as she sat up straight. “I am glad that you are back. I mourned you deeply, I want you to know that.”

“It's fine, Melina,” Natasha said, waving off her concern as she walked over to perch on the end of Melina’s bed, behind the chair she was sitting on. 

Turning, Melina reached out to hold the side of Natasha’s face, brushing her thumb against her cheek as she looked into her green eyes. Her eldest child. 

“I don't want to lose anything else,” Melina said, pulling her hand back as Natasha managed a sad smile. “I know she will try to kill us again, she doesn't know anything else. But I can't leave her there.”

“We won't–” Natasha started but Melina cut her off. 

“I'm sorry I did for you and Yelena.” Her voice was gentle like it had been in Ohio, but Natasha didn't have to question her sincerity this time. “I had a baby at home but I lost her anyway. Part of me wishes I'd just taken the two of you and run.”

“We can wish all we want,” Natasha breathed, containing her tears as they threatened in her eyes, “it won't change anything. We can only change what is in front of us.”

“How long have you been so wise?” Melina chuckled, a soft smile on her face as she leaned on the back of her chair. 

“Years,” Nat chuckled softly, standing from the bed again, “decades.”

With a soft chuckle of her own, Melina smiled at Natasha as she left the room. It had been years but the feeling of conviction was growing stronger in her, Natasha made it infectious in that way. The risk was high, and she didn't want to trade any of their lives for Vienna's, but if Melina could get her daughter free of the Red Room, she needed to try. 

#####

Vienna's hair touched her shoulders after the months away from Sidorov. Novikoff cut it even and left her to shorten it or let it grow, it hadn't mattered to him, it was Sidorov who had hacked it short for the Mind Oven and her mask. Sitting in a rundown motel just outside of Houston though, Vienna ran a hand through the mid-length black strands and wondered what to do with it. A ponytail was easy but also easily grabbed. She had seen other Widows with intricate braids that seemed to keep their hair out of reach. It had been twenty years since she'd had hair to braid. Vienna didn't remember how. 

Laynia entered with a soft knock. They were sharing to save on space, using two rooms was better for them than five. She had been in the shower and her hair was still damp as she walked over to her bed. 

“Didn't think you'd be one to stare at a mirror,” Laynia commented, rubbing the towel in her hands on her hair. 

Vienna didn't answer. She felt stupid to ask for help, and even worse to hold such pride that stopped her from asking. 

“You're not still mad about the hat, are you?” Laynia asked, resting the towel in her lap as she looked over at the back of Vienna's head, “it really did look good on you. It was a little funny but only because of how strict you are.”

“It is just a hat,” Vienna said, her eyes down and not looking at the mirror. 

A light frown on her brow, Laynia leaned forward to watch Vienna's expression. “So, is this just your usual face?”

Jaw tense and skin tickling, Vienna spoke. “I don't remember how to braid my hair.”

“Oh.” Was all Laynia had in response. It wasn't what she was expecting. Something so simple it wouldn't be considered an important secret but also felt more vulnerable. 

“I can always cut it,” Vienna said quickly, trying to roll her shoulders loose from the tension but failing. 

“No.” Laynia stood from the bed and walked cautiously over to Vienna like she was a skittish cat. “Unless you like it short, but I can help you braid it.”

“Just show me how,” Vienna told her as Laynia came into view of the mirror, “I will take care of myself after that. And don't tell anyone about this.”

“Your secrets are safe with me, Krasnyy,” Laynia smiled, standing behind her as she tried to decide whether to put her hands in Vienna's hair or not, “I value my intact organs too much. Shall I start?”

Vienna nodded, ready to watch Laynia’s every move intently. Her eyes followed Darkstar’s every movement, each section of hair and twist of the strands as she kept the braid tight to her scalp. Laynia’s hands were warm as they moved through the soft, black strands, trying to keep herself composed and not stroke along it. She had met stray cats before and Laynia knew how tentative they could be, only allowing contact in a certain way and defending their boundaries violently if they had to. 

“There. Did you see it?” She asked, taking a deep breath as she removed her hands from Vienna after securing the end of the second French braid. “I can do it again if you need it.”

“No.” Vienna said, shaking her head slightly as she stood from her chair. “This is fine.”

Nodding Laynia stepped back and let Vienna pass her. The Red Widow hadn't had someone touch her so gently in decades. She could still feel the soft caress of Laynia’s fingers on her head as she sat down on the bed beside the window, her back to the Darkstar. 

“Goodnight, Laynia.”

“Goodnight, Vienna.”