𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.
"Time. Space. Reality. It's more than a linear path. It's a prism of endless possibility. Where a single choice can branch out into infinite realities, creating alternate worlds from the ones you know. Each a reflection of what could have been...some heroes will rise, others will fall. And nothing will be the same. I am the Watcher. I am your guide through these vast new realities. Follow me and ponder the question... What if?"
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓-𝐈𝐅...
...Lizzie Carter were a Black Widow?
"Сообщить о досье оружия."
Report Weapon Dossier. General Dreykov moved to sit back in his chair, watching as the red monitor registered his request on a particular subject. Suddenly, the young woman's image appeared, following a series of other files listed: history, relocation, ledger, partner(s), experimentation. All at the drop of a hat. A disgruntled sound came out of Dreykov's voice when he sorted through the files. Pictures of two women appeared on the screen, a blonde and a brunette, with a number of surveillance photos of them around the world. The blonde's had an alert through her name, defective. The second woman, untraceable.
"Pull up all connections to the deserters."
Dreykov watched their names come on the screen, profiles side-by-side. Instruction of destruction. That was the work the Red Room did. Elizabeth Carter knew the Red Room as long as one could know it, just as it knew her. Her history was extensive and started before she was even born with the infamous Peggy Carter. The Red Room and HYDRA had been long-time affiliates, and when they were first notified of a Sharon Carter being born as the first girl in the Carter bloodline, alerts went off. They could have taken her; they would have tried, but the Red Room knew she would be defective immediately.
So they waited, and a second alert came out about an Elizabeth Carter being born in Brooklyn, New York to Michael and Sophia Carter. Four years after her sister, Dreykov went through the same procedure to identify her potential. He decided on her third birthday that she had a destiny to be his. At four, she became a new person. She excelled at everything from a very young age. Elizabeth Carter was specifically chosen—she was specifically taken, as she was genetically built for a life of training...a life of perfection. Dreykov gave her that.
She was thirteen when she killed a person for the first time. It was praised afterwards by her instructors, telling her that she was on her way to being a prime contributor to the Black Widow Ops, a smaller association driven by the most viciously trained of young women. When she was fifteen years old, she had murdered a total of twenty-three strangers, and five other girls in her class during a 'kill-or-be-killed' match. The Academy continued to give encouragement through brutality, though, which ended with her graduation ceremony. The ceremony was anything but congratulatory. She graduated prematurely and found herself working in controlled, experimental missions alongside a various number of Widows.
Partnership was an evolution of Elizabeth Carter's life in every variation of timeline. Each have been different. In some, she saved the world alongside her partner, Peter Parker. In others, she conquered the world with Loki Laufeyson by her side. All have been special, and not every one has been happy—but I must not intrude, I must only Watch as a woman is born into a multi-verse of purpose—a multi-verse of partnership.
"Agent Carter. Meet your new partner, Agent Belova."
They were opposites in every form. Elizabeth Carter was three years younger than Yelena Belova, but had been among the first of the Black Widows in her class to migrate into higher ranks. Partnership was her asset. Yelena Belova was a defect, swept off the streets and instantly placed into an undercover mission when she was a child. Innocence built inside of her long enough that she was defiant and that meant eyes were on her constantly. There was no pure excellence, but control—proving that she was the strongest through every pain they put her through—and because of that, she moved up. She graduated. She began her life as a Widow outside of the Red Room, a Team Leader at nineteen of a congregation of specific Widows.
Specifically chosen. Names built from a list, gone through every analytical process, and every rate of error, until the official report left Dreykov with a partnership unlike any other between the two women. Perhaps there was more to it than an indestructible, killing machine in the form of two assassins—something more volatile, in an attempt for a perfect creation of one singular individual. One that had not been attempted before in human subjects.
"I do not do partnership," were the first words twenty-year-old Yelena spoke to a seventeen-year-old Elizabeth when they appeared on their first mission; that was their first moment alone, without the training, without the prying instructors, without the experiments on a train to kill a government official. "This mission, we show we can work alongside one another, but I do not want to be chained to you. You'll only get me killed."
Elizabeth only smiled, leaning her head back against the train's headrest. They would be there for a few hours as they traveled, and she had already laid herself out with her legs on the seats in front of them. "You doubt partnership because you have never allowed yourself to have one. You see our training as a necessity, and you work like a robot. That is not how this works...you must see me before I see myself. I have learned you. But you know nothing about me. That puts the odds against me much greater."
"You know nothing about me."
Elizabeth's lip twitched in amusement, her eyes peering further up the train when she noticed a man get out of his seat and begin walking down the aisle. "You know nothing about yourself."
Whether or not the older Widow wanted to admit it, Elizabeth had gotten to know her partner. Understanding the small movements of an individual, reading their physical language, and what was not spoken maintained a talent Elizabeth had that other Widows did not. At least, not to the degree she could. To her, it was second-nature, and that was something Yelena feared. Yelena had a cold-exterior to her that did not seep inside of her soul, and no one had found their way past those defenses in a very long time. Not even her own mind.
"You contradict yourself. If I do not know myself, how could you know me any better?"
"Like I said, I am trained to," she explained casually, glancing down at the small map pamphlet and beginning to pick away at the paper. "I was taught to know my partner better than myself first. You were taught to know your enemies better than yourself first. There is nothing wrong with that...but that is how I stay alive, and they stay alive...you will never become the best if you refuse to let your control aside long enough to let another assist. There is greater training in relinquishing control."
Yelena grew silent, then she turned to glare out the window. "Have you finished hearing yourself speak enough?"
"Truly? I was just about to begin reciting Othello. You're no fun."
"Fun is what gets you killed. Fun is not what we learned."
Elizabeth hummed, shifting when the man moved to pass them, her hand heavy against the knife hidden. Still, she remained present in the conversation. "I learned fun in other ways. You should try it sometime."
"Sleeping with the other Widows will not benefit me in any way," Yelena dismissed, a twinge in her mind at the thought. "I hope that is not what you expect out of this mission. I know the rumors."
A smirk appeared on Elizabeth's lips and she looked over at her again. "You listen to them."
"Lilliana tried to slice my throat when she heard they assigned us to each other."
"Ah, well," the other girl winced. "She is still not pleased with the change...and I have no intention to sleep with you. A nice wait staff or a rich politician, possibly."
Yelena frowned. "I don't understand the desire for pleasure."
"You've never had the desire?"
"No."
Elizabeth seemed to reflect on that despite Yelena's ease to respond. The younger woman relaxed back in her seat, which prompted Yelena to drop the hutch in her shoulders and accept that she could not spend the entire ride in a defensive position. Yelena knew that, despite Elizabeth's posture, the arm rests had been kicked up to provide a swift motion from the assassin should anything go awry. However, Yelena also noticed that her body was positioned in such a way that it benefited Yelena's route as well. Partnership.
There was a calm silence between them before Elizabeth spoke again, quietly. "Did you hear about Oksana?"
Oksana had been one of their primary instructors during the time of their partnership assessment, and she had been an active Team Leader alongside her partner, Taisiya, for over a decade. She was also one of the very few women either girl had encountered within the Red Room that remained warm. Not only to her partner, but to the younger Widows she led. She had been recruited into a different division months ago, and they had yet to hear anything about her. Until a few days ago.
"I did," Yelena replied, but there was restraint coming from her throat. Neither of them moved, keeping their eyes in respective locations.
Oskana and her partner had been the selected Team Leaders to the division of Widows under a specialized mind-enhancement. Not all of them had been subjected to the treatment yet. Not that they knew. Elizabeth had her suspicions, and because she had those suspicions, she knew that her mind still remained within her own possession. There were other Widows she had encountered who stared ahead with emptiness in their eyes; body language Elizabeth could not read because there was nothing to read. Those Widows were a shell, encasing a weapon for Dreykov beyond what conditioning could not.
"You know we will be next."
Yelena did know that. Elizabeth knew it too. If they were testing partnerships under the operation of mind control with Oskana and Taisiya, then they would be next in line. The blonde flexed her fingers against her knee and it was caught by the other girl. "This mission is the control."
To base their performance.
Elizabeth frowned, and then for the first time in a while, she glanced over at Yelena. "I won't let anything happen to you, Yelena."
"That's part of the contract, no?" was the reply, and when she didn't hear anything after, Yelena turned her head in the brunette's direction to raise her brows.
"It's part of mine."
Yelena frowned this time, much deeper in her face. "What does that mean?"
"I excelled in every partnership test because I lack self-preservation where others do not," she said honestly, the pointed value at the end hinting at Yelena's capabilities. Elizabeth did not look deterred talking about her flaws, not like Yelena had seen in other Widows. Most would rather die than admit they did not excel in every field; most did die. "You are looking at me like a man looks at a fool. I have the skills to keep myself alive, but if it were to come to a decision that would allow my partner to return, then I would sacrifice myself to that..."
Yelena saw the beginning of a crease appearing on her forehead as a thought tormented her present-self. That happened often to them, as what they learned battled with what they thought.
"I worry..." these words were harder for Elizabeth. Yelena stayed attentive and watched, giving the silence time to settle between them. "I worry that is the only thing left they have to take away...because when I am not myself, then who do I become to others? To my partner?"
The thought loomed over Elizabeth like a dark cloud settling into its terror for the night, but it also stumped her partner—because she was not raised in partnership. The only companionship she had ever known was the memories from her childhood, back in Ohio before the world froze for her indefinitely...and the girl seated next to her, a stranger to her mind, admitted a fear that would have her killed. Her loyalty was not to her self, not even to Dreykov or the Red Room, but to her partner.
Before Yelena could understand why the girl had just expressed so much to her, the anguish lifted from Elizabeth's face and she smiled at Yelena. "Should I begin with the first Act of Othello, or would you prefer the interesting points of the tragedy?"
"Was this your attempt to bond?" Yelena asked, raising her brows as she sat back in her seat.
"Oh, no. That will come when we come to blows over who gets to shoot first. By the way, you call call me Lizzie. Elizabeth makes me feel so old."
"Hm."
There was another settling of silence between them before Yelena spoke again.
"If it happens...I'll get you out. I promise."
Those words were the first of a number of years of promises.
▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟐
"If you could go anywhere, right now, where would you go?"
"Hmm...New York."
"Oh! The tree!"
Yelena's burst of excitement, her eyes lighting up in childlike adoration, and the small lift of her body off the stool made her partner grin almost instantly. Their actions worked beyond their conscious thought, and Lizzie had moved to stand in front of Yelena to remove any unwanted attention she may have brought on. A year ago, seated on the train, these actions would have made Yelena angry. For the first few months of their missions, the way Lizzie choreographed herself to Yelena's every move left her feeling like she was being babysat. Like she couldn't take care of herself.
A year later, and after a bullet taken to Lizzie's spleen when the woman jumped in front of her, Yelena barely noticed when it happened. "Yes, the tree...it feels like the home of America. Where I come from. I'd like to think I would live there in a different life."
"Have you never been to the states?"
"I have," she confirmed, and her shoulders relaxed and she moved back, allowing for a better view of the Gala they were attending. Lizzie glanced back at the bar and took hold of her beer bottle, sipping it. "There was a mission in D.C. with my partner and I. Our friends from the other company helped us out."
Yelena and Lizzie could work around the language of civilians. Espionage and undercover missions were always easy for the two of them. For two individuals that talked a lot, they found that benefited them in the field. Bystanders heard two women speaking about business and travels, and suddenly they were a boring conversation to overhear.
"Did you have fun while you were there?" Yelena asked, picking up her glass. Straight vodka, likely. Lizzie didn't ever ask.
She raised her eyebrows at the blonde. "Are work trips ever fun?"
"Sometimes."
"Not this one."
That intrigued Yelena, and she let her hand fall from the glass to look more intently her way. "What happened?"
"Fight broke out between the supervisors."
A crease appeared on her forehead, thoughts swarming her like a dark cloud. Ones that the Widow had purposefully kept away. D.C. had been an event in her timeline that she wished could be erased. Splinters into her skin, ones that could never be pulled no matter how desperately she tried. Yelena knew that the conversation would end shortly after that. She noticed the way Lizzie shrugged out a tension in one of her shoulders. A scar lined that same shoulder. Yelena never asked about their stories. She had enough of her own she never wanted told.
"My partner at the time quit that day."
Yelena's face fell, and with it, so did her heart. A nauseating emotion settled in her gut and she pushed away the glass completely. Lizzie observed all of actions, and a part of her wished she had chosen a better time to have that particular talk. Neither one of them were in the right attention-span to be looking for their target of the night—a man from Sokovia selling stolen items from the Red Room. He was meant to be the mission, not the one from D.C., and Lizzie did her best to pull herself back into the present and not the past.
Yelena recovered, but her stare remained on the side of Lizzie's face and not the rest of the room. "Were you good friends?"
"Yes," she said monotonously. Then she paused and flickered her eyes to Yelena for a second, allowing only her to see the anguish hidden behind her eyes. "We worked together for a year."
"...not a fun work trip."
A choked laugh came out of the eighteen-year-old. "No. Not a fun work trip."
"Well. We can take one to New York."
"After this one?"
The question once again assaulted their ability to compartmentalism themselves in the field. Yelena's body tensed up at Lizzie's question and the mournful hope for something that they knew could not happen. Their futures had been decided for them. Lizzie had more aggression over the sore subject, and her distaste over the situation would have gotten her killed if anyone but Yelena ever saw. They knew what was waiting when they returned to the Red Room. Preparation had already begun, and the only item left to check off was their assignment that night.
Tomorrow, they would no longer be themselves. Tomorrow, neither girl would hold fond memories of the Rockefeller Tree or Othello. They would have nothing but what they were told to be.
"Yes. After this one. I promise."
▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂
𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
There had once been a time when Yelena and Lizzie were taken by an enemy of the KGB in Austria. The mission had been destined for disaster after an argument between the women in the middle of the hotel hallway, but those words were forgotten four hours later when Yelena had been forced to watch them torture her partner. That night scalded both of their memories—memories that had been taken from them—and Yelena almost begged for them disappear again as she sat against the cement wall, never taking her eyes off the woman tied to the chair a few feet away.
Waiting for Natasha to return with the red-vials made Yelena want to claw her heart out. The organ had already been severed in two when she had to knock Lizzie unconscious, and they went to blows like they were children again, training under the supervision of Oskana. They weren't fighting to kill then. Yelena had never been on the end of her partner's barrel like that. The emptiness in her partner's eyes, lacking everything but a brand in her brain to kill. There was no recognition—no acknowledgement of the six years they had spent working together or the promises made on their lives—nothing. Nothing. And that broke Yelena to a bitter end.
A sharp inhale was taken when twenty-four year old Lizzie Carter started to wake up. Yelena would be the first person she saw, the person meant to stand next to her, not the one meant to tie her up like they were enemies. Immediately, the Black Widow recognized what she had woken up to and started to assess her situation. Feeling out the restraints and after ten seconds, she had finally noticed Yelena sitting off in a corner inspecting her too.
"Yelena."
Yelena ignored the internal flinch at her name and raised her eyebrows. "Hm. You remember that, one, yeah? Was it before or after you tried to break my jaw that the name came back to you?"
"I remember everything. Yelena. I'm your partner. Let me go," she begged, tilting her head to look at her. When Yelena stayed put, the woman thrashed again within the confines. "Yelena...I promise it's me...you have to let me out. The other Widows will be looking for you, and I can't protect either of us like this."
Yelena glanced down at the knife in her hand. The blood glistened against the metal, making Lizzie freeze. "What did you do?"
"Took out your tracker while you were unconscious...oops."
Now, there was a sharp inhale from Lizzie that made Yelena's lips twitch into a smirk. She continued to watch—everything that wasn't her partner and everything that was. The way her jaw set in annoyance was all Lizzie, but the calculating eyes and the slight twist of her wrists was the chemically-altered part of her brain trying to break free—trying to kill Yelena. Trying to finish her mission. Hidden deep within the strings of Dreykov's control, just like Yelena had been. Just like Yelena remembered in her nightmares.
"I killed Oskana."
There was a sound across the room similar to a scoff. "The target was your mission. The target was eliminated. Then you defected. Now you're my target."
"I was in there," Yelena's voice got thicker, and with it, her accent. "Felt like drowning, you know? Swimming and swimming and swimming...trying to reach the surface...but you never quite get there—but you know what's happening. The whole time...and it never ended. Not until—"
"—you found purpose?" the assassin chuckled sarcastically, turning her head back to meet Yelena's eyes. There was nothing familiar in the exchange of glances. "I know my purpose. I'm going to kill you."
"Not the first time you've said that to me."
Lizzie looked up at the ceiling lights, flexing her wrists once again to free herself. "Why are you stalling? What are you waiting for?"
"My sister," Yelena said casually, but the answer received a momentarily pause in Lizzie's movements. "Sweden, the assassination of Borysko...thirty-two hours into surveillance, a redhead appeared, and I missed my shot. You never reported the error because I told you I knew her."
"Time to correct that error."
Yelena was on her feet the moment Lizzie broke free of the restraints, rolling away behind a number of storage boxes. A string of curse words at Natasha rolled off her tongue as she adjusted her grip on her knife. When a quick flash of a black-suit caught her eye, Yelena ducked and pushed a row of the boxes into Lizzie. A frustrated sound came out of Lizzie when she jumped to her feet, her hand hitting something solid from the mess. A rolling pin hit the side of Yelena's ribs with enough impact to take her breath away, but she shoved her feet against the ground to skid away from the next blow.
"Yelena..."
Yelena didn't get the chance to say anything back, readying her knife for a painful but survivable wound to her partner's thigh. But then, there was the sound of someone shouting "catch!" and both women turned at the order. Yelena watched Natasha send the red-vial through the air, but unfortunately, Yelena was not the only one who followed the instruction. Lizzie caught the vial, staring at the red concoction inside of it in confusion. That was enough time for Yelena to slam her hand down onto the top of the vial, producing a layer of red particles into the air that clung to her face.
Instantly, disorientation hit and the young girl was lifted from a fog of four years gone. Yelena suffered as she watched. A sensation similar to a hard punch in the head struck the younger woman, and she fell to her knees, gripping onto her temples to try and stop the pain. When the whimper escaped her mouth, Yelena's grip overwhelmed Lizzie's senses and she broke down into sobs. Natasha made her way slowly into the room and met eyes with her sister, just for Yelena to turn back to her partner and gently urge her face up. The redhead watched, an overwhelming grief in her own chest. Her partner was in a jail cell right now. Hers needed her, and Natasha couldn't be there. That was a pain she understood well.
When she took a few steps back to retreat and give them a moment, Yelena's head shot up and over to her. The siblings shared a silent understanding before Natasha made her way outside, waiting in the stolen vehicle for their next destination with Clint Barton heavy on her mind. When she could no longer see red hair, Yelena returned to the woman collapsed in her grip, and a wave of feelings caught in her throat. Six years. Six years the two of them had been partners, and for four of them, they were under. So far under they stopped recognizing themselves in the mirror—so far under they no longer recognized each other.
That had always been Elizabeth's greatest fear, after all...loss is a motion which remains unchanged by time. One cannot exist without the other...so to say the same for Elizabeth and those who have known loyalty from her—with such loyalty, must also exist great loss.
"Yelena..." Lizzie mumbled as she met Yelena's pained eyes, clawing at the white suit the woman was wearing to ground herself back to reality. Her eyes were already checking to be sure she hadn't injured her, panic rising to her ringing ears. "Did I hurt you? Are you okay I...What did I do?"
"I got you out. I got you out, like I promised."
Another shudder wracked through Lizzie's body at the realization, and she felt Yelena's hands grip her tighter in response. But they were free. The conversations before they had undergone the experimentation—when there was still some semblance of them inside of their minds—when escaping was a dream, one they could envision like The Black Widow had...but then they lost...and not only did they lose themselves, but they lost each other. Partnership no longer held any of its true form, only a motion of puppets working under one string.
But she got them out. There was a moment of silence between the two women as they stared at each other, before Yelena pursed her lips at Lizzie, a small smirk tilting on them. "You hit me with a rolling pin."
"You stabbed me."
"I almost did it twice," Yelena confirmed, holding up the knife in her hand in a 'told-you' fashion. "And I only did that to get your tracker out. I made sure you were unconscious before. You're welcome."
"Thank you," was said softly from Lizzie in reply. Yelena paused, seeing the genuine honesty of gratitude for more than just the tracker—because she had taken away the root of her agony, and that was not something Lizzie could ever repay her partner for. She glanced down at her wrists, a small exhale of relief at the lack of the Widow bites. "You took them off."
"We saw what happened to the other Widow when she broke free."
Elizabeth's eyes went back to her. "Oskana..."
"She didn't even fight back. Not like I wished she had..." Yelena's jaw clenched and she tilted her chin to the ceiling, avoiding the tears threatening to spill. "The parts I remember are hazy like a nightmare, but they replay...over and over again...she died so that I would be free. So that I could free the others. I could free you."
Lizzie's chest hitched at the memories she had of fighting Yelena only minutes ago. "I would have killed you."
"Good thing I am better," came smugly from Yelena as she tilted her lip into a smirk. The humor faded when Lizzie gave her a jaded expression in return. "You left your arm open for me to get rid of your gun."
That admission carried weight. Weight that sunk the younger Widow further into her battered body. They were taught basic defense when they were first brought up in the Red Room, and of the many that were drilled into their brains, leaving yourself open to lose your weapon was one that they killed girls over. Lizzie had watched a classmate die by an instructor at eight because of it. To know that she'd made such an error in the field meant that there was still something fighting the chemicals in her brain. That, in itself, gave her hope. That perhaps not even mind control could defeat her loyalty to Yelena.
"Do you have more of the antidote?"
The empty vial had been cracked when it hit the ground, but Lizzie still rolled the device in her cut palm. How odd, that such a small thing could change their lives. "We have a few left, but not enough to free them all."
Lizzie's eyes narrowed on her partner, noticing what her words could not. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Natasha and I...we're going to the Red Room."
She breathed out heavily, looking at Yelena like she'd just stabbed her again. "That's not possible. The location of the Red Room—"
"—is unknown, but we know someone."
"Who could you possibly know?"
"One more mission, and then it's over. Then, we can go to New York. Like I promised."
"...through infinite realities comes the appearance of individuals capable of being the greatest heroes our universe has ever seen...and with their stories, lies the key to hope."
...WHAT IF?