Inheritance of ash

The time after the song

The next morning, Kate woke up with that heavy, cotton-stuffed feeling behind her eyes — the kind that meant she hadn't actually slept well, just collapsed. She blinked against the sunlight sneaking through the curtains, groaning as she shoved an arm over her face. For a second, she didn't even remember where she was.

Then the night before came back in fragments.

The song. The look on Yelena's face. Walking out. Steve showing up. Her own ridiculous tears that she'd tried to hide against the car window.

Kate sat up slowly, noticing the sweatshirt she'd fallen asleep in wasn't hers — definitely Steve's. It was oversized, smelled faintly like laundry detergent and coffee. It felt too warm, too safe, and yet she tugged it tighter around herself.

Her phone was on the nightstand, blinking with unread messages. Group chat chaos, mostly. Vicky spamming with memes to "lighten the mood." Wanda's texts gentler, short check-ins. Natasha hadn't texted her directly, which meant she was probably pacing the compound kitchen instead, waiting for Kate to surface on her own.

And Yelena?
Nothing. Not a single message. Not a single word.

Kate's stomach twisted, like someone had just pulled the floor out from under her. She pushed herself off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor, and went to the mirror. The makeup Wanda had put on her yesterday was smudged, messy, but somehow still clung to her eyes, making her look like she'd been out all night. She stared at her own reflection, and the words Yelena had not said looped in her head, louder than anything else.

She wanted to be angry. She wanted to blame Vicky for picking that stupid song. She wanted to laugh it off, pretend nothing happened.

Instead, Kate just whispered to her reflection, "You're such an idiot," before splashing water on her face.

The compound felt quiet when she crept out into the hallway. Too quiet. Kate hated it.

That was when she heard voices in the kitchen — Wanda's low, calm tone, Vicky's brighter one, almost like she was trying too hard. And Natasha's, steady and clipped, grounding both of them.

Kate froze just short of the doorway, heart hammering. She didn't know if she was ready to face any of them yet. Especially not Yelena.

But Yelena wasn't in there.

And that made Kate's chest ache slightly better.

Vicky spotted her first. She sat perched on a stool, hair still slightly messy from sleep, Peter tucked in beside her with a plate piled high. Her face lit up with something between relief and guilt.

"Kate," Vicky blurted, setting her mug down too fast, sloshing coffee over the rim. "I'm sorry—about last night. The song—I shouldn't have picked it. I wasn't thinking. Really, I wasn't."

Kate opened her mouth, then shut it. The apology sat heavy in the air. She gave Vicky a little shrug, the kind that said it's not your fault. She meant it.

Natasha, leaning against the counter with her arms folded, watched her carefully. "How are you?" she asked. It wasn't soft, but it wasn't sharp either. Just steady, a question without pressure.

Kate tugged Steve's sweatshirt tighter around herself. "Fine," she lied.

Wanda was at the stove, stirring her tea without drinking it. She turned her head slightly, her tone gentler than Nat's. "You don't have to be fine, you know." Her words were even, but her mind was a mess—Amy's laugh, Amy's smile, Amy's bye, Avenger still looping like a song she couldn't switch off. She pushed it aside before anyone noticed.