I just wanted to say, thank y'all so much for y'all's kind and supportive comments!! I love you guys <3
And, beware . . . super long chapter ahead!
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"So, there I am ice fishing with my father," Alexei began, much to Yelena's annoyance and displeasure. She reached around Irina and grabbed the Vodka, drinking some. "It's very cold day in this little ice shed. Cold even for Russia, you know? 'Keep the Vodka by the fire,' my father would say to me."
Yelena shook her head, the Lane that Irina was with moments ago completely gone, "Please stop talking." And the Widow and Dreykov's former partner went back-and-forth as Irina awkwardly turned around and scooted back to the side of the bed next to Yelena.
"Please wait."
"Please, no."
"Please wait."
"Please, I don't want to talk."
"Please. Please," Alexei begged. "There is reason why I'm telling you this, okay? Trust me." Yelena stretched her arm out to place the Vodka on the bedside-table, but Irina tapped the woman's thigh and pointed to the bottle. "I am reaching for fish." Yelena passed the bottle to Irene as Alexei's breathing picked up and he began acting out his story, "Oh! I lose balance. AH! Splash! My hands go in the river."
Irina sipped the beverage a few times —to allow her taste buds and tongue to become familiar with the clear liquid before she allowed more of it to flow— as Yelena arched both of her legs again, placing her arms atop her knees.
"In this weather, frostbite sets in quick. My father, he go toilet on my hands." Irina choked on the Vodka in her mouth and coughed, spitting some onto the floor.
"Oh my god . . ." Yelena groaned in disgust, fingerless-gloved hands on the sides of her forehead as she hung her head. "Oh my god, oh my god."
"Urine is 35 degrees Celsius, staves off the frostbite!" Alexei finished.
Yelena snapped her head to him, looking over Irene's head as the dark-haired woman used the bottom of Lane's tank-top to wipe her mouth and chin of the Vodka she spit. "How is this relevant?"
"You know . . . fathers."
Irina paused, her index and middle fingers under the white fabric as they stopped in the corners of her mouth. For a moment, she thought Yelena would give Alexei a chance, but she should've known —the exact opposite happened. Yelena looked away and scoffed as she shook her head, "No. No . . ." the last 'no' broke as she tried to hide her anger and how hurt and bothered she is. Lane turned around slightly, to face Alexei more comfortably so her neck's not craned. Her thigh and knee laid atop Irina's leg that's bent underneath herself. Yelena lifted her right-hand, speaking with it as she spoke, too, "You have done nothing but tell me how bored you were. I was the chore, the job you didn't want to do." She lowered her hand, "To me? To me, you were everything," the Widow admitted.
After the revelation's out in the open, silence consumed the dysfunctional father-daughter duo as they stared at each other. Crickets and other night bugs played their musical songs as Irina kept her head inclined, slowly pulling one of the nearby throw-rugs to cover the Vodka mess she made.
"Exactly. "Yelena faced forward again. She arched both legs up and placed her arms atop her knees again. She shook her head, "You don't care. You don't care. The only thing you care about are your stupid glory days as the Crimson Dynamo, and no one wants to hear about it."
Irina even more awkwardly looked around the cozy room as a longer silence passed before Alexei whispered, "It's the Red Guardian."
"Get out." Yelena demanded her father-figure, but he remained in place. "Get out!" Irina jumped from the sudden outburst, and looked over her shoulder at Alexei.
He met her gaze, then sighed heavily as he stood, disconnecting theirs eyes. The Red Guardian made it two steps before stopping, his back to Irene and Yelena, and he put a hand up to his face, like he's thinking. "I can't remember . . ." Irina's brow lifted at his . . . singing? "If I cried . . ." and his hand dropped back to his side as he turned and walked to the loveseat, " . . . when I read about his widowed bride. Something touched me deep inside the day, the music . . . died." Irina smiled —Yelena's favourite song. She knew Alexei cared. Irina looked at Yelena as Alexei continued, Yelena repeating some words here-and-there. "And they were singing—" Yelena broke their eyes as she inclined her head and chuckled, smiling, "—Bye-bye, Miss American Pie." Irina now grinned, meeting Alexei's gaze. She gave him a thumbs up, to which he chuckled and smiled mid-song, "Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinking whiskey . . . singing . . ."
As Yelena joined Alexei in softly singing the tune, Irina closed her eyes and laid her head on some part —she's not sure which part— of Lane's arm, listening. "This will be the day that I die. This'll be the day that—"
A bright light poured through the windows on the wall the loveseat's on, several engines whirring as they circled and landed outside Melina's home. Startled, Irina jumped and snapped her head to the blinding lights, squinting. She's pulled up from the floor as Alexei got up —facing the windows— and came closer to her and Yelena before he stopped a few feet away.
"Get down, girls," he instructed, and put his helmet on.
"Yelena . . ."
"Get behind me," the Widow cut, using the hand that's wrapped around the dark-haired woman's elbow to bring Irina between herself and the bedside-table.
Irina went to the floor, following Alexei's instructions, as did Yelena. She took some comfort in Yelena being beside her.
She ducked as a dart flew through the window, breaking some of the glass, and shot Alexei in the chest. He scoffed and pulled the dart out, "They think—"
Another dart came through and stuck him in the chest area, followed by several more. Irina ducked again, this time into Yelena as the Widow placed an arm over Irene. In seconds, Alexei fell backwards to the floor, sedated by the tranq-darts.
Yelena's arm slipped some from around Irina, her hand now on the younger woman's back as she leaned forward and grabbed Alexei's hand before she shook her head. She met Irene's panicked gaze and whispered almost inaudibly, "Stay close."
Irina immediately nodded and stood with Yelena as the Widow drew her pistol. She quietly stepped to open the thin cloudy door then stepped back once it's opened, and rounded the corner after a second, aiming her pistol around. Irina followed, stepping quietly. She desperately wished she had some kind of weapon, anything. A frying pan would even work; she's seen the movie Tangled, and that thing messed up plenty of people.
Yelena stopped, back pressed up against part of the bathroom wall. She nodded for Irina to join her, and she did. Lane then rounded the corner again, her pistol aimed in every direction and archway they passed.
The older woman suddenly stopped, and Irina immediately spotted why as soon as she entered the kitchen —an unconscious Natasha.
She quickly and quietly crossed the kitchen and squeezed between the archway and Yelena, and knelt beside Natasha. "Nat?"
Yelena's suddenly up on her feet and spun around, pistol aimed at someone as she stood in front of her sister and Irina, but it's only Melina. Irina could see Yelena's posture relax slightly as she lowered her pistol, so Irene looked back down at Natasha, concerned. There's no sedative darts in or around the Avenger's body on the floor, unlike Alexei.
Something charged and fired just as Irina looked up again —Melina shot Yelena with her Widow's Bite. Yelena groaned and shook, the electricity coming from the red shocks Irina could see some of crackling, until Yelena fell to the floor, she too unconscious.
"Yelena!" Irene shot up and came up to her. She placed both of her hands on Lane's cheeks as she moved the Widow's head, but she's definitely knocked out. Irene looked up and met Melina's gaze in the dark, "Melina, what are you doing?"
"What I have to. I'm so sorry, Irene."
Irina frowned as her brows furrowed. Only Natasha, Yelena, her father and the Avengers ever called her 'Irene', but she didn't have time to fully register that before Melina's Widow's Bite found its next victim.
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Groaning, Irina could hear monitors beep and soft indistinct, muffled chatter as multiple someone's walked around her. Her upper body felt cold and exposed while her entire body ached from Melina's Widow's Bite.
At the mere remembrance of Melina, Irina opened her eyes. A round yellow light's above her, as is another that's just been turned on, and someone hovered over her, clad in white surgical garb and gear. Another stood by, clipboard in hand while a third busied around.
Unsettled by the strangers, she tried moving, but she's completely restrained, and her heart sunk. She wiggled around as her breathing picked up, the memories of Killian surfacing.
"No. No, no, no . . ." Remaining silent, the surgeon turned, picked an object up —a scalpel, Irina realized— and positioned his hand above her stomach. She darted her eyes to the tray he picked the instrument off of and her eyes widened. Next to the different sizes of forceps, clamps and scissors, an oddly u-shaped like tool stuck out.
The surgeon turned to his assistant and spoke in Russian —Irina assumed, given who came after her, Natasha, Yelena and Alexei— to which the assistant nodded to and jotted whatever it was he said on the paper attached to the clipboard.
"No, no." Irina tried to move again. "Please don't do this." The closer the scalpel's razor sharp blade came to her stomach, the more panicked and scared she became. The tip of the blade's inserted into her skin, "Stop, stop!" She jerked and squirmed, hoping to prolong the surgeon, "Natasha, Yelen—YelenAA!" The surgeon deepened the blade slowly, and Irina groaned, "Stop, STOP!" And he did. Wide-eyed and frowning, Irina stopped as a knife whirled over her shoulder and implanted itself in the centre of the surgeon's chest. "Crap . . ." She pulled harder against her restraints as the other two are taken down, out of Irina's view.
"No don't."
Irina immediately stopped. She looked to her left, and her entire body sunk back to the metal table underneath her restraints. "Yelena . . ."
"I got her," Yelena said, speaking like she's speaking to someone else as she came to Irina's side, and cut the straps. "Don't move." Irina nodded. "I pull out in three. One—" the Widow ripped it out, Irina jolting up as she groaned, the scalpel's tossed aside.
"Ouch." Irina inclined her head as she held her stomach, holding the small amount of blood that threatened to escape inside her body. She looked up and met Yelena's worrisome gaze, "What took you so long?"
"You're welcome," Yelena sarcastically answered, smiling, and Irina smiled, too. "Come on. Let's get you down." Yelena wrapped an arm around Irina, and Irina held onto her, gripping a fistful of the Widow's vest and shoulder.
"How did you know where I was?"
Her Chuck's touched the floor, "I heard you. And I had a concealed blade that would've been helpful earlier." At Yelena's answer —the last bit sounding like she wasn't even talking to Irina, again— Irene looked up, brows furrowed. "You called, I came. Isn't that how it works?"
Irina's smile is back as she playfully elbowed Yelena, "I'm glad you answered."
"Me, too." Irina took in Yelena's appearance; instead of her hair being braided to her head, it's in the double ponytails —she liked the double ponytails, a lot. Irina pointed to the Widow's forehead, "Nice face art."
Yelena scoffed as she picked up some gauze pads that are on the tray of instruments, then pressed them to Irina's scalpel wound. "Nice stomach art," she replied, referring to the black ink on the younger woman's stomach the scalpel blade pierced but didn't slice.
As the Widow left Irene's side to search the metal tables for something, Irene frowned —Yelena's composure seemed . . . different. She glanced at the tool used to perform the hysterectomies. "Yelena?" She hummed, muttering "there you are" under her breath as she tossed (her) Irene's tank-top over one shoulder, and picked something else up. "Are you okay?"
Yelena rejoined Irina, white medical tape in hand, and immediately began to tape the gauze pads to the wound. She lowered her head to Irina's stomach —the younger woman's breath hitching— as she tore the tape with her teeth,"Mhm." She did that a few more times before finally standing, then flattening the tape with the pads of her fingers.
Of course Irina didn't believe her, and she should've expected the answer, but she pushed the subject no further. Instead, she looked around the —what she can now clearly see— is some kind of large medical facility. "Where are we, exactly? And where's Natasha and Alexei?"
Yelena removed the tank-top from her shoulder and grabbed each of Irina's arms, carefully inserting them through the correct holes, like she's a child. "Where do you think?"
As Irina grabbed the bottom of the tank-top from Yelena and slipped it over her head, her eyes widened, "We're in the Red Room? Like, THEE Red Room?"
Yelena nodded, her and Irina walking to the exit of the laboratories. "Yes." She then explained the last minute plan Melina and Natasha conjured up, the earpiece in her ear, and cleared up the "concealed knife" thing and how she was similarly strapped. By the time she's finished explaining, she and Irina turned left and exited the laboratories, entering a dimly lit, off-white narrow hall with Yelena in front. "Where did he take the vials?" Yelena randomly asked, Irina snapping her head to the Widow in confusion before remembering the earpiece.
Lane then plucked a cleaning wipe from atop the cart at the end of the hall, stopping in front of a surgical light that's turned off —it looked just like one of the ones that hung above Irene. The younger woman came up behind the Widow, spun her around by her vest, then snatched the cleaning wipe from Yelena's hand.
Irene met her gaze and began wiping the black marker off. Once the mark's gone, Irene used the cleaning wipe to smooth Yelena's hair back, slicking it out of her face.
Yelena smiled and placed her hand on Irina's lower back, ushering her forward until they came to another corner. Yelena stepped out first and stopped, speaking to Melina through her earpiece, "Yeah. Sure." Irina entered the much darker hall, glancing around the small vacant space, "Easy."
"What's the plan?"
Yelena sighed, "We need to expose the Widows to the antidote. Melina said the antidote is in Cold Storage, which is below us."
"So we're just going to walk around the Red Room, chat with some guards and mind-controlled Widows on the way, until we find it? That's not very 'spy like' or sneaky," Irina pointed out, unimpressed. But little did she know, Yelena had other plans.
"No." Yelena nodded up to the opened space in the ceiling.
"That's your plan? Climb in the ceiling?"
Yelena shrugged innocently, "Yeah, why? You don't like it?"
"I don't like heights."
Yelena stepped forward, closing the small distance between she and Irina, and placed a hand on the other woman's cheek. She smirked, "You're in the sky now."
Irina scoffed and pushed Yelena's hand away, "You're not funny." And Lane laughed, but not too loudly.
"I'm not lying! When have I ever lied to you?" Irina remained silent. "See?"
The dark-haired woman sighed heavily, nervous all of a sudden, hands clammy. "Let's just get this over with so we're not in the sky anymore," she said, looking up at the dark-squared blackness in the ceiling she and Yelena are going to be climbing through.
"Hey," Yelena called softly, her quick change in tones catching Irina off-guard. She met Lane's hazel gaze, "I won't let any of the Widows or Dreykov hurt you."
Irina's heart thumped rapidly as her body flushed, and she smiled, "Where is this coming from? Did Nat say something?"
The Widow's expression remained serious yet soft, "No."
And in turn, the other woman's remained giddy, her smile very much present still. "Or those creepy scientists?"
Lane chuckled, "Especially those guys." Irene held her pinky out between their chests, "You are not getting me to do that."
"Why not? Please?"
Scoffing, Yelena rolled her eyes as she interlocked her pinky with Irene's, and grumbled, "Pinky swear . . ."
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"Cold Storage's up ahead," Yelena informed, whispering. Her and Irina then froze in the darkness of the vents in the ceiling as guards matched under them. Once they've passed, Yelena said, "I go first. Don't follow until I say so."
Irina nodded in the darkness. "Okay." She slid the ceiling cover open for Yelena, and the Widow dropped to the ground.
She landed in a pose like Natasha's, and Irina smirked to herself —she's definitely going to rub that in later. Yelena soon broke out of her pose, shuddering as she did so, "That was disgusting." She looked up, waving Irina to come down.
Irina positioned herself, feet first, and slowly dropped through the hole, legs dangling as her feet searched for the floor, even though she knew she can't reached it anyways; it was more of an instinct.
She felt Yelena grab her legs, to guide Irina to the floor. "There you go. Easy," she whispered, looking around while paying attention to Irene. With Lane's hands where they currently are, it was hard for Irina to remain calm and go "easy".
All of a sudden, Yelena loosened her grip and let Irina slide through her arms to her feet. Irina firmly placed her hands on Yelena's shoulders, "A warning would've been nice that time. I could've screamed and alerted someone."
"Relax." Irina removed a hand to re-adjust her glasses. "I knew you wouldn't," Yelena said before she slunk to the wall behind them.
Irina tip-toed after the older woman, forehead creased, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Before Yelena peeked around the corner, she smirked, remaining silent, then barely peeked, leaving Irina flustered.
"How many?" Irene whispered. Still barely poking her head around the corner, Yelena held up her right-hand, having only her index finger up. She suddenly moved, Irina taking her place, and watched the Widow do her smooth, skillful takedown. "Wow," she breathed, smiled in amazement. "That was kind of awesome."
Yelena panted, and said through heavy breaths, "Yeah, well . . . I'm kind of a pro," she panted again, "Red Room and all." Irina chuckled as she entered the small area Yelena and the unconscious guard are in, then stopped. "Are you going to help or just stand there?"
"I'm supervising. And, you know, 'on the look out'. Besides, you learned from us climbing in that stupid ceiling that I don't have strong upper body muscles. After I told you I didn't." Irene then shrugged, and twitched her thumb up, "You're doing an amazing job on your own."
"Suchka," the Widow waved her off and dragged the guard's body to the scanner, groaning as she did so.
"Come on, you're almost there. Just a little more and—" Yelena pressed the guard's hand to the scanner, and she dropped his arm, un-amusedly meeting Irina's gaze. "What?" She stepped toward her and over the man's body, "Motivational support?"
"Really?"
Irina met Lane's gaze and shrugged more innocently than the last time, "What? I'm not good at the 'inside' stuff. I fly. Yet Nat didn't let me drive across Europe . . . what's up with that?"
Despite the situation for Yelena to remain annoyed and serious, she chuckled lowly, "Yet you don't like heights." She and Irina entered the metal doors the now unconscious guard had been guarding.
The hall darkened, "There are plenty of people that don't like heights but can comfortably fly in airplanes, jets, helicopters. It's a real thing." Coming to the end, it T's. Irina looked both directions, each of the two equally as dark, except the hall to the right, there's a small bright section. "Split up?"
"No." Yelena veered right, crouching slightly as she surveyed the bright section of cooled medicines and other things.
She reached up to her ear to re-activate her end of the earpiece, but Irina stopped her. She rushed to her side and grabbed her arm, stopping the motion, "Yelena wait."
Confused, the Widow paused. "What?" She looked behind Irina, readying herself as she stepped in front of Irina, inching toward the entrance/exit, "Is someone coming?"
Irina shook her head, "No."
Yelena turned around and faced Irina again, "Okay, well, what is it?" She inched toward the dark-haired woman, "I have to tell—"
"Melina can hang tight for two seconds." Irina met Yelena halfway, "This can't."
Lane's dark brows furrowed, "Okay . . ." she drawled, slowly. "Well, I don't know what 'this' means." Irina inclined her head, heart pounding rapidly in her ribcage. "Irene?"
"I'm trying," she breathed, and looked up. Irina definitely doesn't remember being this close. "Screw it . . ."
She placed her hands on Yelena's cheeks and captured the Widow's lips in hers. Almost instantaneously, Irina's wrapping her arms around Lane's neck, smiling against her lips as Irina felt Lane gently snake her arms around her waist, careful not to hurt the dark-haired woman.
Fireworks lit and bursted in her stomach as her body became heated up in the moment. Irina couldn't describe the feelings she felt, but one thing she did know, was that she never wanted this moment end.
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