𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄.
chapter twenty
what they deserved
They're safe. At least for now.
The Taskmaster goes after them in the wrong direction, climbing down instead of up where they've hidden away in the crawlspace. People still run and scream in the subway station below, but no one knows where they are. Svet stays huddled up against her mother, hand fisted into the back of her jacket, trying to control her panting breaths.
When Yelena quietly groans, Natasha looks quickly at the blonde, "You okay?"
"Yeah, great plan!" She sasses as she slowly sits up and ties off a makeshift bandage for her bleeding arm, "I love the part where I almost bled to death."
Natasha nearly rolls her eyes while Svet giggles a little, wiping her cut and bleeding palms on her black jeans. They sting at the contact but the sting also feels good. It reminds her that it could be worse. A little glass and blood is nothing compared to everything else before.
For a moment, both Svetlana and Yelena take a look around. The crawl space is small but not uncomfortable, and it looks nearly as if... well, this is the sort of safe place that has been used before.
"This is cozy."
Natasha glances up, "Barton and I spent two days hiding out up here."
Svet lets her finger trail along the games drawn onto the metal wall, head cocked thoughtfully, lips pulled into a small smile. Bucky taught her a few of these, on those many hours sitting in the middle of the night, unable to sleep in some safe house in eastern Europe. When she wasn't telling him stories, Tic—Tac—Toe became the game of choice. Papa always let her win.
Yelena makes a face, "That must have been fun."
They sit in silence for a few more moments, just their heavy breaths filling up the emptiness now between them.
"So, that was the Taskmaster?" Natasha finally asks, "Who the h—ll are they?"
"Dreykov's special project. He can mimic anyone he's ever seen. It's like fighting a mirror. Dreykov only deploys him for top—priority missions."
Her mother squints a little, shaking her head, "This doesn't make any sense."
"Well." Yelena lowly bites out, "The truth rarely makes sense when you omit key details."
Natasha snaps around, asking through gritted teeth, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You didn't say one word about Dreykov's daughter."
Svet glances cautiously between them, feeling tension ripple like electricity through the air. She never knew that Dreykov had a daughter, nor does she know what this has to do with her mamulya.
But then Yelena accuses, "You killed her."
"I had to." Natasha's voice is purposefully flat when she nods, "I needed her to lead me to Dreykov."
A chill sweeps over Svetlana's skin, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms on the back of her neck.
Natasha remembers that day. So clearly. As if it were only yesterday.
She remembers Barton's voice in her ear, the way her accent still sounded Russian, sitting in a car down the block, watching a child enter her father's building. She was just a little girl, like her own daughter. Natasha thought about her baby, then too, as she watched someone else's baby climb the steps. Dreykov's daughter would have been only a few years older than Natasha's, just starting school, two braids hanging down her back.
She remembered her baby and then she blew someone else's baby up.
"Dreykov's daughter was collateral damage." It pains her mother to say it, Svet can see that now, "I needed her to be sure."
Light flashes over their faces from subways passing by, setting a vicious limelight on their whole scene. In the flash of darkness, Svetlana reaches out and takes her mother's hand. It's warm and rough, and Natasha holds it almost too tightly.
Yelena stares at her, "And here you are, not so sure."
She sucks in a sharp breath, "I needed out."
When neither Yelena nor Svetlana look away, Natasha has to instead.
But the words unsaid hang painfully in the air between them:
Yes, Natasha got out, but she left two scared little girls behind.
They eventually make their way out of the crawlspace, none of them speaking. They blend back in with their surroundings and make their way out of the city. By the time the sun begins setting, they've finally reached a gas station far enough away to not draw any unwanted attention.
"The Red Room's still active." Natasha is the first to speak in hours, glancing between the others as they enter the small store, "Do either of you know where it is?"
Svetlana swallows hard, "When they... When they took me from Papa in Siberia, they never said and they sedated me before arrival."
"Same with me." Yelena agrees, striding further ahead, making herself busy, "Every Widow is sedated on entry and exit for maximum security. And he moves location constantly."
Natasha pauses in the door, "I'm just finding it hard to believe that he could stay off my radar."
"Well, it's not smart to attack an Avenger if you want to stay hidden. I mean, the clue is in the name." Yelena explains dubiously, plucking different medicines from a messy shelf, "Dreykov kills you, one of the big ones comes to avenge you."
Natasha stills, looking as if this has... hurt her feels a bit, "Wait, what are the big ones?"
"Well, I doubt the god from space has to take an ibuprofen after a fight."
Natahsa stares.
Svet winces.
Yelena does not apologize. Instead, "Where did you think I was all this time?"
Natasha doesn't apologize either, slipping between both girls to wash her hands in the nearby sink, "I thought that you got out and were living a normal life."
"And you just never made contact again?"
"Honestly, I thought you didn't wanna see me."
"Bullsh—t." Yelena scoffs an embittered laugh, "You just didn't want your baby sister to tag along, whilst you saved the world with the cool kids."
"Sister?" Svetlana straightens immediately, eyes snapping between the two women, "You are my mama's sister?"
Yelena is just going to answer when Natasha slides between them, voice taut, "She isn't really my sister."
Svetlana flinches and Yelena stills, peering first off into space before looking sharply back over her shoulder. She paces through the small gas station, pulling a few items off the shelves to keep busy.
Hurt, wounded, Yelena strikes back, "And the Avengers aren't really your family."
Svet shifts uncomfortably in the tension between these women, these sisters.
When Natasha doesn't respond to that, Yelena asks, "Why do you always do that thing?"
"Do what?"
"The thing you do when you're fighting."
Natasha tilts her head and raises her brows curiously.
Svet, however, understands immediately, gasping a bit, "Oooh, you... You mean, this thing?"
The young redhead crouches slowly, one leg extended to the side, one hand stretched back, glancing up at the blonde for confirmation.
Yelena gasps right on back, "This is it exactly! Natasha, Natasha, watch! The... Like the..."
Natasha has been watching the entire time so far but her brows just climb higher when Yelena joins Svetlana in that crouching position, both now low down on the floor in the middle of the gas station.
"This thing that you do when you whip your hair when you're fighting with the arm and the hair. And you do, like, a fighting pose?" Yelena chokes on a laugh, and it's infectious until Svet is giggling too, "It's a..." The two can't pull it together, snorting to themselves again and again, "It's a fighting pose. You're a total poser."
"I'm not a poser," Natasha is smiling somewhat, glancing between both girls.
"Oh, come on!" Yelena laughs again, grunting as she pushes herself up and gives Svet a hand up, "I mean, they're great poses, but it does look like you think everyone's looking at you, like, all the time."
But Natasha doesn't find it funny anymore, all those years of sincerity seeping through into her expression, "All that time that I spent posing, I was trying to actually do something good to make up for all the pain and suffering that we caused."
The laughter dies away, and Svet feels something tremble deep within her chest.
"Trying to be more than just a trained killer," her mother looks away, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat.
The words land heavily for the girl, and it makes her think of her papa who is trying to heal his mind and it makes her think of herself who isn't sure her hands can ever be clean. Natasha is part of that, too, she knows.
They're all just trying to be better.
But being better is so much harder than she ever thought.
Maybe that will get easier.
Svetlana hopes it will.
"Well." Yelena shakes her head to the side, words barbed and meant to sting, "Then you were fooling yourself because pain and suffering is every day and we are all still a trained killer. Except I'm not the one that's on the cover of a magazine. I'm not the killer that little girls like your daughter call their hero."
With that, Yelena turns and she walks into the sunlight.
Natasha looks away.
Svet glances down at her feet.
Mother and daughter can't stand to look at each other.
Later, much later, they sit outside the small gas station and cafe. A collection of kids shout out to each other, kicking around a soccer ball, watched over by their parents never far away. Svetlana can't help but watch with some kind of far away fascination, unused to scenes such as this. Children playing. Parents not in hiding.
With Natasha back inside the small store, Svetlana helps Yelena bandage her wounds as best she can. They use a tall bottle of vodka for disinfectant, though it's obvious that it stings. Svet doesn't like doing this, watching someone hurt like this. Even if it helps, she doesn't like hurting someone like this.
She has cleaned too many wounds in her time, she thinks for the first time.
The older redhead finally comes back to their table, setting down two beer bottles and a funnily shaped bottle with some funnily colored liquid inside.
When Svet looks confused, Natasha assures her, "It's orange flavored, you'll like it."
The girl wrinkles her nose a little, sniffing the drink before cautiously taking a sip. Her taste buds react instantly, overwhelmed by the bubbly sweetness. Her eyes widen and coughs at the cool carbonation foaming down her throat. It's nothing like she's ever had before.
Her mother smirks, "All good over there?"
Svet coughs again, giving a shaky thumbs up while Yelena snorts.
But then the attention shifts and the mood darkens.
The vials still glow red through the open zipper of Yelena's backpack, safe, foreboding.
"That gas, the counteragent, it was synthesized in secret by an older widow from Melina's generation." Svet doesn't bother to ask who this 'Melina' is, simply listening to Yelena haltingly explain, "I was on the mission to retrieve it, and she exposed me and I killed the widow that freed me."
Natasha eyes her carefully, "Did you have a choice?"
"What you experienced was psychological conditioning. I'm talking about chemically altering brain functions." Yelena's expression is so grim and her voice shakes as she tries to explain, "They're two completely different things. You're fully conscious, but you don't know which part is you. I'm still not sure..."
Svet feels herself flinch deep inside, a lump welling up in her throat big enough to choke her.
Natasha's chair scrapes as she moves closer, saving Yelena from being hurt and saving Svet from having to fix it herself. They sit there for a moment, each watching as Natasha continues sterilizing and bandaging
"Is that all there is left?" She eventually asks, nodding towards the vials.
"Mmm—hmm. It's the only thing that can stop Dreykov and his network of Widows."
Natasha gently blows cool air on her open wound, and the tension in Yelena's shoulders loosen.
"He takes more every day. Children who don't have anyone to protect them." She looks quickly over Svetlana's shoulder, voice straining, "Just like us when we were small. Maybe one in twenty survives the training, becomes a Widow. The rest, he kills."
Svet shakily traces the scars on her fingers, thinking of those on her neck, stomach, back, all over her body beneath her clothes. They weren't just from the instructors, or from the general. Yes, Dreykov killed those children, but those children killed each other too. Little girls turned into gladiators, bloodied and made brutal — turned into weapons for the sake of powerful men.
"To him, we are just things. Weapons with no face that he can just throw away. Because there is always more. And no one's even looking for him, thanks to you and Alexei."
Svet cocks her head curiously to the side, "Who is this Alexei?"
Yelena chuckles dryly, "Dad."
Svet feels herself flinch a little, bewildered by this whole other family she had never considered having before. An aunt, a grandfather... it's more than she ever thought she could have. But Natasha doesn't seem to want her to have it.
Her mother keeps her face carefully blank as she finishes bandaging the arm, informing her daughter in an even tone, "He was assigned by the Red Room to play the role of our father, to trick the American government. He's not our dad."
Despite all her attempts to stay objective, the conviction in Natasha's expression makes Svet have to look away.
Over the chatter of the outside restaurant, Yelena eyes the older redhead over the top of her beer bottle, "Did you ever look for your parents? Your real ones?"
"Well, my mom abandoned me in the street like garbage."
Garbage.
Natasha quietly catches her breath, lungs suddenly squeezing within her chest, suddenly unable to look Svetlana's way.
This is how she let the Madame treat her own daughter. This is what the Madame said when her daughter was pulled from her trembling arms. At seventeen, the blue dye in her hair all grown out, with hands made to kill and body made to seduce, Natasha had given both of these to hold the most precious thing she would ever make. Her daughter. She'd been so so pale and so so cold, and she let them take her away. They took her away and they put her in the garbage. Not a coffin. Not a grave.
How is she any better? Than her mother? Than Melina?
She's not. She's not. She's not.
Her eyes burn and her throat feels tight so she asks instead, "What about you?"
"They destroyed my birth certificate, so I reinvented it." Yelena grins a bit shyly, hunched over the table and her own beer, "My parents still live in Ohio. My sister moved out west."
Natasha smiles a little, "Is that right?"
"You're a science teacher. You're working part—time, though, especially after you had your daughter. Your husband, he renovates houses."
Svet tucks her hands between her knees, smiling faintly at the thought. It is such a pretty idea, so completely ridiculously, that it seemed unlikely it would ever actually happen.
Natasha seems to agree as she laughs, "That is not my story."
Yelena watches her for a moment, "What is your story?"
Svet subtly glances at her mother from under her lashes, wanting to know just as much as Yelena.
But the woman only smirks and shrugs, never revealing more than she wants to, "I never... let myself be alone long enough to think about it."
"And you, Svetochka, did you ever wish for kids?" There's barely time to answer before Yelena slowly pulls on a dark black vest and announces, "I want a dog."
This is something Natasha never considered. Never once. Her baby having a baby of her own. Her brows wrinkle and she glances over at her daughter who seems to consider this. Having kids isn't the purpose of a woman, and not being able to have them doesn't mean a woman is any less. But it is the choice. The choice of it.
To have them. To not.
The choice; that's what they deserved.
They stole her baby. They stole her choices. And then they stole baby's choices.
Svetlana doesn't seem sure. She's quiet, biting her bottom lip, staring down at her hands.
Natasha saves her from the question, and the answer, "Where you gonna go?"
"I don't know. I don't really have anywhere to go back to, so I guess anywhere..." Yelena watches Natasha watching her and she firmly shakes her head, "Don't."
"Don't what?"
Yelena chuckles tiredly, "You're going to give me some big hero speech, I can feel it."
"Speeches aren't really my thing."
"Huh," Yelena and Svet say together, both surprised.
"It was more like an invitation." Natasha explains, glancing between the younger girls, "To you both."
"To go to the Red Room?" Svet asks quietly, if a bit nervously.
Yelena continues for her, "And kill Dreykov?"
"Yeah."
The blonde woman sighs, musing, "Even though the Red Room is impossible to find and Dreykov is too slippery to kill...?"
"Yeah." Her mother nods again.
Her aunt sighs, "That sounds like a sh—tload of work."
"Yup." Natasha sighs right on back before peeking thoughtfully at them, "Could be fun, though."
"Yup." Yelena pops the 'p'.
Then, both women turn to look at Svet who looks thoughtful, arches a red brow, and eventually decides, "I like sh—tloads of work. It is my kind of fun, you know this?"
Natasha chuckles and Yelena does too, and then slowly, each of them begin to smile at one another.
Finally, she murmurs, "I saw where he put the keys..."
Yelena starts, "Top drawer—,"
"—Green cabinet," Svet finishes with a massive grin.
The three girls chuckle, clinking their respective bottles together.
After the quick acquisition of said keys and the corresponding vehicle, Svetlana stretches out in the backseat with a quiet yawn. As they start off down the road, she begins to fade in and out of consciousness, halfway between sleep and awake. She doesn't realize that she's stopped shivering from the AC until she sees that Natasha's leather jacket is now draped over. She hadn't even noticed her put it on her.
Svet smiles a little, burying her nose into the cool leather sleeve.
Partly awake now, she dazedly watches Yelena lightly tug at her dark vest, "You know, this is the first piece of clothing I've ever bought for myself."
"That?" Natasha chomps on her gum, eyes on the road.
"Yeah, you don't like it?"
"Is that like a... Is it army surplus, or...?"
"Okay, it has a lot of pockets!" Natasha chuckles as Yelena defends herself in a high—pitched voice, "But I use them all the time, and I made some of my own modifications—,"
"Oh, yeah?"
"Whatever." She folds her arms over her chest and pouts, staring out the window.
Natasha's still laughing.
"Shut up!" Yelena scoffs out a whine, acting like she's done trying to defend herself before she keeps going, "The point is, I've never... I've never had control over my own life before, and now I do. I want to do things."
The redhead softens at that. She takes another look at the vest.
"Hmm..." Natasha nods a bit, a smile in her voice when she says, "I like your vest."
"Gah, I knew it!" Yelena pumps her fist, whispering fiercely, "I knew you did. It's so cool, right?!"
"It's good." Natasha concedes with a grin, "Yes. I like it."
"And you can put so much stuff in there. You wouldn't even know." Her excited voice changes a little, her expression twisting mischievously, "So. You and the Winter Soldier..."
"No, no." Natasha sternly shakes her head, gripping tighter to the wheel, "We're not talking about this."
"Why not?" Yelena groans, sounding every bit like a little sister should, "We never got to the age where we could have 'girl talk' so come on, talk to me. Like a girl."
"You totally don't know what girl talk is."
"I do!" The blonde insists, "See, I show you: tell me, you and the soldat, how long were you two, eh..."
"Nope!" Natasha's eyes are wide, feeling awkward about this topic for the first time since she was about eleven years old, "Absolutely not. We are not discussing this, especially not when my daughter's laying in the backseat."
"Fine!" Yelena grumbles, "You're no fun." After a moment, she quietly goes, "I really don't know where the Red Room is, though. I'm sorry."
"I know. But I think I know somebody who does."
"Oh, yeah? Who?"
In the rearview mirror, Natasha meets Svet's eye, somehow already knowing she's awake, and then says, "We're gonna need a jet."
As it turns out, Svetlana's mamulya has a lot more connections than Svet could have imagined. Outside of the city, there is a very, very bad looking helicopter waiting for them in a wide green meadow and a man in dark clothes stepping out of it. The helicopter is one of the worst Svet has ever seen, old and decrepit with paint chipping off its sides.
Disgraceful. Svet tsks to herself. Even HYDRA had better.
"I said we needed a jet," Natasha calls out to the man.
"Yeah, you know what you didn't give me?" His face twists in great offense when he steps into the grass, "Time. Or money. I'm not made of jets."
Svet cocks her head to the side. How could a person be made of jets? Sometimes, she doesn't understand English at all. It's times like these that she misses Uncle Sam's commentary. He would have explained it to her.
Yelena is equally unimpressed, "I thought you were supposed to be the best. Like a real pro."
"Oh, I beg your pardon, tsarina." The man is getting quite indignant now, sassing back, "Was the free flat and lifetime supply of Kissel not to your liking?"
"Ha!"
"Hmm. Sir? You are quite sensitive," Svet tells him thoughtfully.
The man swivels to point at her, making a face, "Who is this?"
"My daughter." Natasha doesn't give him time to adjust to this massive revelation before she says, "Don't let them wind you up."
It seems to Svet that she quite likes winding people up. It seems very funny.
The man, whatever his name is, just looks outraged (which is even funnier), "No, I take exception to impugning my professionalism."
Yelena and Svet raise their brows at Natasha who slowly paces around the width of the chopper.
"Well, you did set me up with a generator that crapped out after six hours," her mother points out with a scrunched nose and a shrugged shoulder.
The man scoffs, "You, too, huh? A three—way tag team. Fantastic."
"Aw, Svetochka is right, he is sensitive." Yelena coos before glancing at Natasha, "See why you keep him around."
The poor man is in offended disbelief.
They all go about their business; Svet is giggling and Yelena is blowing hot breath on the glass windows at the front of the cabin and Natasha is inspecting the back tail rotor.
"Where's the rest?"
As he pulls a massive brown bag loose from the fuselage, the man exhales, "Voilà."
Svet couches to unzip it, sorting through the various items with a thoughtful expression. It's amidst this whole mess of a go—bag that Yelena finds something she likes.
"Ooh!" She hums in appreciation, tearing open the small rectangular package.
Yelena then begins munching on a nutrition bar of some kind, the granola spilling from her mouth so she has to tilt her head back to keep it in. Svet laughs and holds her hands under her chin, ready to catch anything that falls.
"Oh, I stashed that, like, five years ago." Natasha cuts in just a little too late, "How is it?"
"It's dry." Yelena decides, chomping with her mouth open, "It's really dry..."
Svet laughs loudly as she tilts her head back to try to get the crumbling granola all into her mouth. The blonde winks back at her niece, wrapping an arm around her frail shoulders and tugging her towards the side door of the helicopter.
"Come on, kid." Yelena murmurs, "You sit in front with Auntie Yelena."
Svet beams.
━━━━━━
Unfortunately, Svetlana does not sit in the front with Auntie Yelena. It seems that you have to actually fly a helicopter to be sitting in the front, and seeing as how she cannot do that, she happily lets Natasha sit in the front instead. After about three and a half hours of flight time, it seems like they're close to approaching their target location so Svetlana easily slips through the fuselage of the helicopter to peer between the two pilots.
"Eh, so who is it we are rescuing again?"
"Your grandfather," Yelena replies over her shoulder.
"Grandfather?" Svet's eyes light up, gasping in a giddy kind of shock.
"Not your grandfather." Natasha corrects, scolding the blonde, "Quit telling her things like that."
Rolling her eyes, Yelena turns back to Svet with a conspiratorial whisper, "Grandfather, definitely."
Natasha heaves a sigh and then announces into their ear comm link, "Today is your lucky day, Alexei."
Svetlana crouches in the cockpit and holds a tablet between the two women, pointing at the blueprints of the prison not far ahead. Natasha follows Svet's finger as she lightly taps on where their GPS indicator just activated, sitting in what she knows is the prison's mail room.
Svet has been studying the prison blueprints ever since they began this whole trek up the continent and into snowy wilderness to what is called the Seventh Circle Prison. Apparently, their target has been incarcerated there for a good few decades, hidden away in the middle of the snow—covered mountains where the Russian prison awaits.
"Move to the door on the south wall," Natasha instructs the man at the other end of the comm.
Svet watches with concentrated eyes as the green icon begins moving through the compound, making a few detours but more or less following her mother's instructions.
"Go left." Natasha tells him sternly, "Just don't make a scene."
Svet frowns at the ruckus echoing through her ear comm, a loud combination of angry Russian, a lot of yelling and shouting, and what sounds like a prison riot.
Natasha sighs in irritation, "You made a scene, didn't you?"
Suddenly the doors in the courtyard burst off their hinges. Svet quickly leans over to the window to get her very first look at her grandfather. He is... not what she was expecting. Her grandfather, Alexei, is a big man in a dirty tank top and a bushy beard who emerges from the flashing red lights behind him. The man sprints between the tall rusted metal fences of the prison courtyard, panting as he skids to the stop on the snowy concrete.
"What now?!" The big man yells.
"We're gettin' you outta here."
He tilts his head back to watch as their helicopter flies into view overhead.
It seems all is going to plan until it's clear he's not the only prisoner who has gotten loose. Hordes of inmates race from the interior doors of the prison, screaming and yelling and fighting to break free. Prison guards suddenly rush from their towers and onto the metal bridges, guns in hand and smoke bombs into the rioting crowd below. Alexei quickly dodges through these flares, shoving through the gates and pushing through other dissenters.
"Go to the upper level." Natasha orders, "Move your a—, super soldier."
Alexei readily obeys, sprinting through the fences and then leaping onto the nearest wall to begin scaling it.
"Super soldier?" Svet asks with wide eyes, glancing around, "He is super soldier?"
"Oh, yeah." Yelena laughs, "That man down there, believe it or not, Svetochka, is the Red Guardian."
Svetlana gasps and straightens to attention, eyes blowing wide. She then breathes out in quiet awe, "My very own dedushka is the Red Guardian...?!"
"Svet." Natasha squints back at her, "You have met literal Avengers and it's him that gets you giddy?"
"He is the Motherland's hero, Mamulya!"
Just then, said Motherland's hero falls flat out on his back onto the courtyard very far down below.
"Ooo," Svetlana hisses.
Yelena's lip curls, "He's never going to make it."
"Get me closer." At her incredulous look, Natasha shrugs, "You got a better idea?"
Then, all without another word, her mother throws off her headset and seatbelt, steps around Svetlana, and then gets into position.
The words get caught in Svet's throat until all she can choke out is a strangled, "Mamulya-!"
Natasha stops and looks back at her, suddenly very still.
Svetlana flounders for a moment, not sure what to say, or how to even say it. Her heart pounds and her palms feel suddenly sweaty. Time they do not have is slipping away from them, and eventually Svet has to settle with a meek, "Be careful, yes?"
Something that Svet can't read flits across Natasha's expression just before she nods.
Her mother then yanks open the side door, latches onto the wire, and then leaps. Svet leans out into the open air to watch as her mother flips through free fall and then lands in her perfect position on the metal overhang below.
Back in the cockpit, Yelena rolls her eyes, "Such a poser."
Svet laughs.
She watches as her mother sets to work on taking out the various prison guards that charge at her, using the cord and hook to take out anyone in her path. Suddenly, bullets clang against the metal siding of the helicopter and Svet shrieks as she stumbles backwards when the helicopter droops and then veers sharply to the side.
As alarms begin to blare and bullets continue to fly, Yelena yells, "Hey kid! You sure you don't know how to fly helicopter?"
"Oh!" Svetlana's eyes are wide as saucers, "Eh, yes...?"
"Then this is first lesson from Auntie Yelena." The blonde motions her forward, "Come, take controls."
Svetlana leaps up and quickly takes the second seat in the cockpit. She squirms in her seat a little and lets out a low breath when her hands settle around the controls, grinning wide enough to hurt her cheeks.
"Oh, Papa will be so proud!"
Of course, the excitement can only last for so long because the gunfire gets only worse. Yelena and Svet both shriek when the aircraft suddenly sweeps low and the tail boom cuts violently through the air and across the high bridge. Guards are knocked over the railing and Natasha ducks for cover, ducking desperately beneath the slicing tail of the helicopter.
"Not good! Not good!" Svet gasps and yanks on the control stick, tugging the aircraft back the opposite way, "No decapitating my mother!"
"Seriously?!" Natasha yells from below, making Svet relieved she still has all her body parts.
"Whoo!" Yelena shrieks and presses into the pedals, sounding only a little panicked, "Sorry!"
"What are you two doing? Are you kidding me?!" Natasha waves them back, hands on her hips as she demands, "Back up!"
Yelena shoots her a big thumbs up, "We're all doing a really good job!"
Svet is laughing like mad, "This is so much fun!"
But the gunfire only gets worse, a machine gun across the prison pelting them with an unyielding barrage of bullets until finally Yelena gets fed up.
"No. Okay. Enough of this." She yanks off her headset and climbs out of her seat, "Take over."
Svet's eyes are wide as she takes full control over the helicopter and Yelena once again pulls open the side door. Armed with one of the most massive grenade launchers she has ever seen, Svet watches as the older woman squints and aims and then takes out the guard tower across the prison.
When the place explodes in bursts of red and orange, Yelena shouts, "Ha!"
The fire reflects in Svet's blue eyes as she slowly grins, "Wow!"
A low rumbling echoes in the distance and Svet's jaw slowly drops at the sight of an avalanche of white snow and rock plummeting down the mountainside and heading straight for the prison.
"Whoa..." Yelena murmurs, chuckling, "This would be a cool way to die."
"But also very painful," Svet chimes in thoughtfully.
Neither girl sounds overly concerned about said cool and painful way to die, of course.
As the rumbling continues, Alexei yells up at Natasha, "Tell me that's a good sign for us!"
"Move your a—!" Her mother orders.
Both Natasha and Alexei sprint back towards the main bridge, as the other prisoners and guards flee to safety.
As the rumbling of the avalanche grows louder, Natasha cups her hands over her mouth, "Get us outta here!"
Yelena and Svetlana work together to shift the chopper back around, whipping the cord around just in time for Natasha to leap off the bridge and latch on. Svet focuses on direction as Yelena makes sure they don't crash her mother into any buildings or fences. Svet grits her teeth as their chopper avoids explosions and the crumbling guard tower, speeding away from the quickly approaching wall of snow.
As they circle back around, Alexei waits for them on the upper bridge now, arms waving wildly, trying to guide them closer.
But then they fly right over him.
The man's eyes grow wide, his arms drop, and he screams, "What?!"
But they curve back through towards the bridge, Natasha swoops low with one arm outstretched, and then they are lost in the avalanche. With matching grunts, Yelena and Svet yank the cyclic stick back as hard as they can. Through the chaos of white mist and snow, they begin to climb higher and higher out of the storm.
Free from the wall of white, Svet puts all her weight into the controls and pushes the cyclic forward. The nose pitches down which seems to make them lose altitude but increase airspeed. Yelena works on her own side, using the pedals to maintain balance. They race against the avalanche, outrunning the crashing mountain of snow.
Svetlana panics, "Oni v bezopasnosti? Did we get them?!" Are they safe?
Yelena peeks out the window and then she whoops, grinning from ear—to—ear.
Svet takes that as a good sign.
As the two girls high—five, the motor cord reels Natasha and Alexei back into the belly of the aircraft. They're both quietly groaning as they heave themselves and clamor inside, snow—dusted and frazzled.
Natasha grunts, trying to get back to her feet, "Need any help up there?"
"No!" Yelena laughs, lightly shoving Svet's shoulder, "No, Svetochka and I got it!"
Leaning out the side door, Alexei screams down at what once was the prison, "Proshchay, dashbegi!" Farewell, douchebags!
Svetlana blinks with wide eyes.
Natasha ignores him, putting on the headset and sitting on one of the side benches with a heavy breath.
"Oh!" The big man laughs and stumbles through the cabin, breathing heavily, "Oh, that was exciting. Oh, I'm so proud of you girls." But then he stops, eyes catching on the third girl sitting in the helicopter, "Wait, who is this one?"
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Svet glances around when neither Natasha nor Yelena respond.
Noticing that they're all wearing headsets, the man speaks overly loud, "Oh, you can't hear me, huh?!"
They can definitely hear him.
"Oh, ah!" Alexei laughs to himself, pulling on a headset for himself, "Okay, ah, wow—,"
Suddenly Yelena shoots back a fist and her knuckles collide with the man's nose.
Svet claps a hand over her mouth in shock and even Natasha jumps a little.
"Ah, oh, okay!" The man winces and groans, tenderly touching his bleeding nose, "Why the aggression, huh? Is it your time of the month?"
Svet is absolutely astounded at the question.
"None of us get our periods, dipsh—t. We don't have a uterus."
"Or ovaries," Natasha adds.
Alexei glances between them.
"Yeah. That's what happens when the Red Room gives you an involuntary hysterectomy." Yelena informs him dryly, turning in her seat to better explain with hand gestures and narrowed eyes, "They kind of just go in and they rip out all of your reproductive organs." The man is looking more and more horrified with every word as she continues, "They just get right in there and they chop them all away. Everything out, so you can't have babies—,"
"Okay! Okay!" Alexei shouts, sitting down on the side seat, eyes wide and disgusted, "You don't have to get so clinical and nasty."
Yelena's green eyes are wide as she shrugs, "Oh, well, I was about to talk about fallopian tubes, but okay..."
Natasha smirks to herself.
"So?" Alexei presses, head inclined not so subtly the youngest girl's way, "Who is this other redhead, eh?"
Natasha doesn't answer.
She clenches her jaw and she looks away, fingers curling around the bench to keep from instinctively shielding her daughter.
It's not embarrassment that makes her hesitate to answer, Natasha wants Svetlana to know. It's not shame or regret. It's nothing even close. It's a matter of not wanting to give this man the right to meet her daughter. This man who played a role. Who didn't care. Who abandoned them. This is not a man she wants her daughter to call her grandfather.
Svetlana bites her bottom lip nervously, peeking quickly at her mother.
Yelena waits with wide eyes.
The man called Alexei juts his chin, "Well...?"
Yelena finally throws up her hands, "Oh, for sh—t's sake, Natasha! Tell him Svetlana is your daughter!"
Svetlana freezes.
Natasha shoots her the most vicious look Svet has ever seen.
Yelena shrugs, having completely spilled the truth on purpose.
Alexei, for his part, is actually speechless — which is surprising seeing as how much he has already talked so far. He sits back on the opposite side bench, taking in the two redheads, realizing that, yes, they do look so very similar now that he knows the truth. His mouth is gaping open like a beached fish and his dark eyes are frozen wide in disbelief.
"Daughter..." He repeats slowly, accent thick, "Little Natasha has a daughter."
Natasha's jaw grows tighter still, those hard green eyes staring into his.
Svet feels that fear all over again, the same she had when Yelena found out. The expectation of disgust, horror, hatred. It's all back again until Svet is very nearly sick with it. The man sits quiet for a long, long time. The air feels hard to breathe, the world outside blurs, everything inside seems still.
And then Alexei bursts, "My one and only vnuchka!" Granddaughter!
Svet beams back at him, nearly shaking with glee.
"So cute and small!" Alexei pinches her cheek and Natasha's fist clenches, but Svet doesn't mind, "But powerful too, yes?"
Svet nods quickly, eyes wide, almost too in awe of him to speak.
"Yes, of course! My vnuchka would have to be powerful, of course! Tell me, tell me all things, vnuchka, how many men have you killed? Where were you born? How many languages can you speak? Who is your father?"
Svet opens her mouth, "He is—,"
Natasha cuts her off, "We are not doing this all again."
Conceding, Svetlana turns back to her dedushka, "But you? You are the Red Guardian?! Da, yes, even in HYDRA, I have heard of you!" The teen still smiles like she hasn't met nearly every single one of the Avengers before, instead suddenly singing, "Rise, you workers of salvation!"
Alexei cheers back, their voices joining to sing as one:
"Rise, you freers of the earth!
For justice thunders condemnation
A better world is in birth—"
"That's it, no more!" Natasha quickly puts a stop to it, snapping, "Enough. No more theme songs."
Svet dejectedly sinks down in her chair.
Yelena snorts.
Alexei sounds as if he is getting choked up, "It means so much to me that you wanted your daughter to meet me."
"No, no!" Natasha is not having it, "You're gonna tell us how to get to the Red Room."
Svet winces. Even for someone who is as seriously deprived in social situations as she is, she can tell: this is awkward.
"Huh." Alexei puffs, blinks, and then blinks again, "Whoa, look at you, huh? All business."
Her mother scoffs, "Trust me, this isn't pleasure."
Alexei croons in mockery, "Little Natasha, all indoctrinated into the Western agenda."
"I chose to go west to become an Avenger." Natasha bites back, squinting out the window, "'Cause they treated me like family."
"Really? Family? Well, where are they now?" The man ponders lowly, "Where is that family now?"
Svet peeks awkwardly at her mother whose teeth had gritted by now.
"Tell me where the Red Room is."
His eyes dart between them for a long, long moment before he bursts, "I have no idea! Okay?"
With gritted teeth, Natasha yanks off her headset and then does the same to Alexei, throwing them both to the metal floor with a loud clatter.
Alexei blinks in bewilderment but Natasha doesn't give him time to object, "Come on! You and Dreykov were like—,"
"Dreykov? General Dreykov, my friend, huh?" He drops back into his seat once again, beginning to rant in annoyance, "Gives me glory... Soviet Union's first and only super soldier. I could have been more famous than Captain America!"
Svet nods eagerly along, head turned back for a better view.
"Then he buries me in Ohio on that stupid mission." But his tone turns mean, "Three years! So tedious, boring me to tears..."
Yelena whips around to stare at him.
Alexei notices with a slight shrug, "No offense, huh?"
Svet winces yet again.
"Then puts me in prison for the rest of my life. Why, huh? Why? Why would he put me in... You know why?" Alexei's loud voice continues ranting on in bitterness, "'Cause maybe I want to talk about the withering of the state. Or maybe I don't like his hair or something and I say something casually about that. Maybe, you know, I want the Party to feel actually like a party instead of this sourpuss organization—,"
Svet squints and cocks her head to the side. What is a party supposed to feel like? And what does sourpuss mean? Her head is starting to hurt.
"But instead, no! He puts me in prison for the rest of my life! He just runs off and hides, huh? I'm not even the one who, uh, you know..." Alexei coughs and side—eyes Natasha pointedly, "I'm not the one who killed his daughter."
The air inside the helicopter grows dangerous.
"Khvatit." Yelena groans, "Can we throw him out the window now?"
"I think we should wait 'til we get to a higher altitude," Natasha calls back snidely.
Yelena shrugs in agreement, "All right."
Svet hides a giggle behind her hand.
Alexei looks at none of them, "Pochemu by ne sprosit' Melinu, gde ona?" Why not ask Melina where it is?
Yelena glances back to ask, "Wait, Mom Melina?"
Svet gasps, "I have a grandma too?!"
"Yes—," Yelena nods.
"Certainly—," Alexei agrees.
"No, you do not." Natasha firmly tells her daughter before asking Alexei in a higher voice, "We thought she was dead!"
"Bah." Alexei scoffs knowingly, "You cannot kill a fox that swift."
Svet makes a face as Natasha gags, "Ew."
"What?" Alexei shrugs before leaning forward, "She was the scientist, the strategist. I was the muscle. She works directly for Dreykov far more than I ever did."
"Wait." Natasha leans in closer, eyes narrowing, "Are you telling me that Melina is working for the Red Room present day?"
"She works remotely outside St. Petersburg."
Svet frowns when she taps what she assumes is the fuel gage, wincing, "Doesn't look so good, Auntie Yelena."
"Uh..." She agrees with a scoff, "Svetochka and I don't think we have enough fuel for St. Petersburg."
"No, we're good." Alexei has no reason to be this confident, though he continues insisting with a waved hand, "We'll make it."
Yelena shakes her head and presses her lips, "O—kay."
They, in fact, do not make it.
━━━━━━ annie speaks ━━━━━━
HOLY HECK, this entire chapter is a trainwreck. gosh, i hope it seemed like it flowed though it was a bit all over the place? yelena and svetlana are a chaotic duo and it only gets worse and we love to see it. also, writing natasha's introspection will always and forever remain one of my absolute favorite things. and ALEXEI! writing family interactions with svetlana literally makes my day; alexei would be a chaotic goofy grandpa and no one can change my mind. svetlana is a big fan, it's embarrassing.
hey, tell me your thoughts? this chapter stressed me out so i would love to hear what you thought (not me nervously biting my nails, ugh)
also, hint hint — next chapter: melina (and the family dinner)!!!
chapter twenty—one: a family reunion
"Okay." Alexei cuts her off, scooping food onto his plate, "A reunion then, huh? And, uh... I want to say something right off the bat." He turns to Svetlana's grandmother, eyes drooped low and voice purring, "You haven't aged a day, huh? You're just as beautiful and as supple as the day they staged our marriage."
Yelena rolls her eyes and takes a shot. Natasha's expression curdles while Svetlana feels a little bit nauseous.
"You got fat." Melina whispers, head tilted and a small smile his way, "But still good."
Svetlana's nose scrunches, asking for permission, "Mamulya...?"
Immediately understanding, Natasha slides her a shot, "Just this once."
Together, in time with one another, mother and daughter each throw the shots of vodka back.