Yelena needs her fair share of angst too don't ya know (as if she isn't already traumatized and mentally ill enough)
Content warnings: Depression, Natasha, Yelena angst my poor baby
Yelena Belova considered herself an intellectual in badassery. A connoisseur, if you will. A maestro. A legend.
She absolutely did not feel like a legend right now.
While it was true that she never got to properly enjoy the high that came along with jumping off of buildings and leaping between moving cars, she was generally able to find some comfort and bodily rhythm in running. The Red Room had stolen indescribable amounts of precious life from her, but she was lucky enough in this one regard.
Yelena could run.
She wasn't running from anything in particular of course- no. No one was chasing her, and she had no end goal in mind, but the air was so sharp and wonderful in her lungs that she kept pushing her body until the pain had built and eventually faded.
Runner's High, Natasha had told her once, her sister's voice deep with exhaustion over a call late one night before the Blip. You run and you don't stop and everything just melts away.
Simply put, Yelena was addicted. If she were to make a list of her favorite things, Natasha would be number one. Vodka and running would be remarkably close to each other, along with her sort-of-parents, her dog, and the vest she had given Natasha all those years ago.
Funny thing was, it didn't feel that long ago to Yelena. She lost five years and her sister in one fell swoop, and Yelena had no experience to show for it.
So she ran. Away from the grief, away from the terror of being lost and aimless and oh so alone. Because of course she was running from something. Yelena wasn't stupid enough to convince herself she was okay. She wasn't, but she was at peace with that. Or she hoped she could be one day, anyway.
Yelena was the world's best child assassin. She was 30 years old, had a dog, and had more blood money than she knew what to do with. She had parents who loved her and whom she loved back dearly, even if the situation was very strange and they were rather dodgy at best. She was a daughter. She was a killer. Maybe even a friend.
But she was not a sister anymore. And that title had mattered most.
She indulged herself, letting the tears fall and freeze against her cheeks as she continued to run. She had bought new running shoes just the other day, and the uncomfort of breaking them in only fueled her further. She didn't actually have any errands to attend to, as she had told Kate before disappearing as quickly as she could.
There had been something there with the archer, and it scared Yelena. So she left. Very smart.
Сука.
It was well into the afternoon and brimming over into the evening before Yelena's body finally gave out, and she forced herself to scale a small building before collapsing onto the roof to catch her breath and rest. She ignored the cold of the cement underneath as it bit through her thin layers. In her haste to get out of Kate's orbit, she hadn't thought to grab a hoodie from where she had her clothes stashed in a closet she knew Kate never used.
Yelena sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, frost nipping down the inside of her throat and deep into her lungs. She spread her aching limbs out slowly, stretching the muscles as they shrieked and twanged. Yelena only exhaled at the pain, welcoming the familiarity.
The clouds above her were a crisp ivory, puffy and swollen and dipping into celestial pools of purples and reds. A few stars twinkled out shyly, doing their best against the NYC light pollution.
We're both upside down.
Yelena screwed her eyes shut and rubbed a hand over her forehead. Another headache was forming, and the cold seeping into her skin wasn't helping.
Forgive me, little sister.
She lets out an angry sigh and rolls onto her stomach, scooting forward to prop her arms up on the lip of the building and rest her chin on her wrist. The part of the city she had ended up in was vaguely familiar, and she took a moment to mull it over before realizing she was only a block or two away from Kate's apartment. She had barely even made the discovery when she spotted a familiar figure trudging along through the freezing January air, arms laden down with grocery bags.
Yelena watched Kate Bishop carefully until she turned a corner, and was gone. And until the sun went down, her eyes stayed where the archer had just been.
————
Yelena spends the next morning walking around the city outskirts with her dog, Fanny. The akita was beyond delighted to see her human when Yelena picked her up from the canine hotel last night, and they cuddled in a crappy bed at a cheap hostel Yelena had rented for the night. She needed her puppy, and who knew how Lucky and Kate would react to her?
Her legs ached from her run yesterday, but the pinch in her muscles was a welcome distraction from it all.
New York was a completely different place if you timed it right. Yelena settled onto a park bench, leaning into the cold wood and metal. Once again, she was grateful that there was no snow. She may be able to ignore the freezing January weather when it was dry, but a wet and cold Yelena made for a very cranky Yelena.
Fanny hopped up onto the bench with her, perching herself tall and proud next to the blonde. Yelena smiled softly, her hand running through the dog's thick coat. "You'll need a haircut once the sun comes back, huh, girl?" she muttered, burying her face in her scruff. Fanny yipped and nuzzled at her cheek with a cold nose, her eyes bright in the morning glow.
"It is beautiful out here," the assassin breathed to herself, appreciating how the people-filled buildings and general noise faded away with the distance she put between herself and the city. "You and I will have to check out Central Park soon, I suppose. We have yet to see it. Kate Bishop would probably have some strange recommendations."
Yelena's dog huffed and licked at her hands, looking for treats. The blonde huffed a laugh, giving in after only a moment and pulling the bag from her coat pocket. Fanny immediately gave a hopeful whine and hopped down to sit on the pavement, tail wagging as her body quivered with anticipation.
Yelena could only let out a deep laugh, holding a treat up in the air between her fingers and twirling her hand in a circle. Fanny obeyed easily, spinning quickly and sitting right back down with large eyes.
Yelena clicked her tongue and held her palm out, and Fanny handed over her paw. A flattened hand with palm down got the dog on her belly. Another click and a hand raised high in a fist had her standing on her back legs, and once every treat was gone, Yelena grinned at her pride and joy.
"So smart, so precious, cute cute puppy," she cooed, rubbing Fanny's ears and fawning over her in proper motherly fashion. The rest of the morning went nearly the same, the two traveling around to various locations where Yelena would muster up another bag of treats from her coat and fill Fanny up on them.
It was around noon when she finally made up her mind about what to do next. She had left Kate Bishop rather abruptly, and something nagged at her gut, insisting she hurry back.
She didn't know why. Yelena didn't like not knowing.
"I suppose I need to figure out why I'm still in this awful country, don't I?" Yelena conceded to Fanny, looking down at her adorable pup with a pout that was nearly perfectly replicated. "Kate Bishop does not need a bigger ego. I am not just here for her."
Fanny blinked and gave a doggy grin, breath fogging in the air as her tongue lolled.
"Natasha was here. For a long time. She made a home and a life for herself. That is why. For my Natasha."
Natasha was a perfectly logical and viable reason. But Yelena knew that she was lying to herself, at least a little bit. It stung, but not too much. Natasha would want her to find a reason to smile.
Yelena would never tell anyone of course, but she was secretly beyond relieved she had not killed Clint Barton. The retired Avenger was the last living connection to her sister, the only other person in the world who loved her as much as she did. If she had snuffed out his life and later learned of the precious stories and memories he had held, the weight of grief would have completely taken her under.
Kate Bishop = Clint Barton, she would reason with herself. Get to Kate to get to Clint to get to Natasha.
If only it were that easy.
Yahoo! I'm sorry :,) But also Fanny!! <33
Translations:
-Сука (Suka): Bitch
Kate Bishop counter: 5
QOTD: Do you like to run?
This chapter's meme:
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