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For as long as Kate has known Yelena, she’s left her notes. She’s not sure if it’s something Yelena does in general, or is something she exclusively does for her - she likes to think it’s the latter - but in Kate’s mind, it’s part of who Yelena is.
When a set of forks arrived in her mail after Christmas: ‘This is cutlery, Kate Bishop.’
When she left her number after she stayed over at Kate’s place for the third time: ‘Don’t call, but text to your heart’s content, Kate.’
When she has to leave early in the morning for a mission: ‘Good morning, Птичка. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone.’
After the fight they had last night, however, Kate isn’t expecting a note, is instead expecting them to talk when Yelena’s back from her mission upstate. Wincing at how her entire body seems to ache after how and where she slept last night, she trudges into the kitchen with the intent of making breakfast for herself, and is opening and closing drawers and pulling out various kitchenware when she sees the note, yellow paper standing out against the glass of the microwave, placed deliberately where Kate would see.
’Sorry, but this isn’t working.’
There’s more to the note, but Kate can’t bring herself to read anymore than the first line over and over. She’s frozen to the spot, unable to look away even as the words begin to blur as her eyes lose focus, because she can’t comprehend what is happening, refuses to.
When she finally moves, it’s to find her phone. Taking the stairs two at a time to her bedroom, she searches her bed before losing patience and ripping the comforter off of it and throwing it to the side. Her phone clatters to the floor, and Kate grabs it and sits on the edge of the bed. There’s a new crack on the screen, but she couldn’t care less about it as she calls Yelena.
The ringback tone goes on and on, each interval feeling longer than the last, but the call is never picked up. She hangs up before it can go to voice mail, calls again, and again. They’re never answered, which is to be expected, since Yelena doesn’t answer her phone during missions, but each missed call feels like the final nails in the coffin, confirmation that this, what they are, what they’ve had, is well and truly over.
She lowers the phone from her ear until it sits on her lap. Yelena’s contact photo stares back up at her; one of the only photos Kate has of the other woman, one that took a lot of cajoling to even get taken.
(“Fine, Kate,” Yelena had acquiesced with a sigh. “Just one photo. But I get to veto if it looks bad.”
Kate spent the rest of the day taking pictures, and Yelena had to sift through hundreds of them.
In the end, she let her keep five, and Kate chose her favorite one as the contact photo, taken when Yelena was laughing at something Kate had said, nose slightly scrunched up and eyes looking at Kate with a mix of exasperation and something else, something soft and warm.)
She stares at the photo until her phone dims, then turns off, until all she can see is her own reflection against the cracked screen. She’ll have to delete it, since the whole reason Yelena was against it in the first place was for anonymity. She doesn’t want to, wants to treasure it if it’s the only way she can see Yelena now, but knows that she has to and will, because Yelena trusts her to do so.
She wonders if she has to get rid of all traces of Yelena in her apartment for the same reason, knowing it to be impossible. Yelena left very few of her belongings behind, but there are spaces where Kate’s come to think of as hers, like the top of the bedside drawer where Yelena puts her widow’s bites, or the side of the couch she sits on whenever they watch TV. The side of the bed she prefers.
Things Yelena can’t take away, and Kate can’t forget, won’t.
Very little will look different, but she’ll always feel the absence. The apartment would serve as a constant reminder of what she had, and no amount of replacing or rearranging furniture would change that.
The place already feels lifeless, despite her having lived here for years, long before she met Yelena, and Kate hates it, hates how cold it makes her feel.
She knows last night’s fight was the worst one they’ve ever had, but she had thought they could talk about it, get past it. Yelena, apparently, thought otherwise, and made the decision to… leave.
Leave, like everyone she treasures and cares for in her life: her father, her mother, her friends. All gone, because there’s something wrong with her; she’s a curse, a plague, it was only a matter of time before this happened-
She shakes her head in an attempt to stop herself from spiraling further. The thoughts are scarily similar to the ones she had after everything that transpired last Christmas, when her world shifted yet again and she found herself alone and lost. Yelena had found her then, pulled her out of that slump. It’s ironic, Kate supposes, that she’s leaving her in a similar state.
It makes her inexplicably angry at Yelena, for coming into Kate’s life and in such a short time, carving a place for herself in Kate and everything she owns, for making Kate treasure what they have more than anything that came before.
Said anger, something she feels justified in feeling and wants to hold on to, slowly dims, however, as she attempts to go about her morning, when every minute thing reminds her of something Yelena.
When she goes to the roof to shoot arrows, give some outlet to her mounting anger:
(“This is ridiculous,” Yelena grumbles as another arrow misses the bullseye, landing instead on the circle outside of it.
Kate grins from her position to the side. She’d goaded the other woman into trying to shoot as well as she does, knowing Yelena would accept, never one to back down from a challenge.
“You’re just upset we finally found something I’m better at than you,” she says, fully expecting Yelena to act offended or roll her eyes, paired with some snarky comment. What she doesn’t expect is for Yelena to say, with another arrow nocked,
“You’re better than me in a lot of things, Kate.”
“I am?” she asks, just as the arrow flies, landing closer to but still not on the bullseye.
“Yes.” Yelena lowers the bow to look at her. “You’re better at being yourself, at doing what you believe is right, at showing your care for others. At being not afraid to voice your thoughts and wants.”
“…right,” Kate says, not knowing what else to say. “Um, thanks?”
“No, thank you,” Yelena replies, and the sincerity in her gaze makes it impossible to look away. “You make me feel… you make me want to be better.”)
When she goes to walk Lucky, who seems to sense her distress and is always near, never straying to far:
(“He’s lucky to have you, Птичка,” Yelena says from beside her as they watch Lucky run around with the other dogs at the park. Kate’s still not sure what Yelena’s been calling her recently, but it’s said with such fondness that she finds she doesn’t mind.
“He’s lucky to have both of us,” Kate corrects her, since it might be her that saved Lucky from traffic and took him in, but it was Yelena that taught her how to properly care for a dog; apparently feeding him pizza was not a good idea. And it is both of them that shower him with the affection he deserves, buy him the treats he likes, take him on walks.
“He is.”
A weight settles on her shoulder, and Kate glances over to see Yelena’s head leaning against it. She carefully leans her head against Yelena’s, and together, they continue to watch Lucky.)
Every one of them, a sense of comfort and happiness that is rapidly fleeting, chips away at the anger that’s been filling the hollowness that’s been spreading beneath her breast.
It feels like the very apartment itself is suffocating her with memories, yet she can’t bring herself to leave, because of the slim chance that Yelena might come back so they can talk, argue again, do something, and if she doesn’t, then… then…
Kate buries her face in her hands. She doesn’t know what to do if Yelena doesn’t come back, if the last interaction they’ll ever have is last night’s fight, when they were both angry and frustrated, forever tainting all that came before.
***
Their fight started, as expected, because of Kate’s impulsiveness. The idea had come to her after the quiet realization that Yelena was at her apartment with her more often than not; that she should give the other woman her spare key. Yelena didn’t need it, of course, already having been coming and going whenever she wanted for months, but it felt like the next step in their undefined relationship. Besides, Yelena had confessed to her late one night that she craved a certain amount of normalcy, and that Kate gave that to her; this was and could be just another part of that.
Despite this, Kate hesitated and copped out for weeks, enough times that Yelena definitely picked up on the fact that she was hiding something, but thankfully didn’t push. The fact that Yelena trusted her enough to wait was what ultimately gave her the motivation to give her the key last night, as they got ready for bed.
Worst case scenario, she had thought, Yelena would laugh at her for offering something she didn’t need.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Yelena had laughed at first, but not in her usual, carefree way; instead, it was forced, an edge to it that seemed to mock Kate but also served as a warning to drop the topic, to not bring it up again. And Kate, who was usually pretty good at reading Yelena and respecting her boundaries, felt too humiliated to just laugh along awkwardly and sweep this under the rug, so she didn’t.
It was as if all the opening up and trust built over the past several months came crashing down as she demanded an explanation for why Yelena was acting this way, and Yelena further reverted back to how she was when they first met, evasive and condescending, cruel. And it took everything Kate had to not be cruel back, to not resort to her own barbed words, to not turn every vulnerable moment they had shared into cutting, poisonous words and hurl them back at her.
“Well, I’m sorry that I want my- my-“ Kate faltered, and Yelena honed in on it, a shark smelling blood.
“Your what?” she shouted back, because they were both yelling, “What am I to you, Kate?”
There was a challenge to her words, daring Kate to put a label on what they were, meant to dissuade, but also a sliver of something else, something that actually wanted this vagueness to be cleared.
And Kate didn’t know how to answer that, because she’d never had anyone like Yelena in her life: someone who was a stranger but not, a friend but not, something more but not.
What she did know was that she’d lost people constantly for as long as she’s been alive, and losing Yelena too just might be her breaking point. And maybe that wasn’t fair, to put so much hope and expectation on one person, but Yelena was special to her, and she wanted her to continue to stick around, almost desperately so.
But Kate didn’t know how to vocalize all that without rambling incoherently, and what came out was,
“You’re mine.”
She knew it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth, as she saw Yelena’s features smooth into a neutral mask, one that looked calm but screamed danger.
“I belong to no one, Kate Bishop,” Yelena said, and it hurt to hear her full name again after all this time, said with none of the usual warmth.
“That’s not what I meant-“
“I think it was.” In a blink of an eye, Yelena was in her space, hand on her throat, their faces inches apart. “I am not some toy for you to play with then discard. You. Don’t. Own. Me.” Her hand squeezed with each word, green eyes - eyes that seemed wild and frantic in contrast to her even tone - boring into hers, and suddenly, Kate was back in that toy shop, with Fisk’s meaty fingers wrapped around her neck as he growled at her, cutting off her air supply as he lifted her in the air-
She doesn’t know what happened, but next thing she knew, she was on the floor with Yelena hovering over her, and she’d screamed and scrambled away until her back hit the wall, heart threatening to beat out of her chest.
“Kate, I-” In the dark, it was difficult to make out Yelena’s expression, looking at Kate then staring down at her own hands. “I’m sorry, I’m a- I’m sorry.”
Then Yelena was gone, having pitched herself out the window, something she hadn’t done in months, after her presence in this apartment became a regular thing.
Kate didn’t move from her position and eventually fell asleep on the hardwood floor, and woke up to Lucky lying next to her, one eye looking at her sadly. When she lifted her head to check, Yelena’s duffle bag was gone, like she was never here.
***
“Kate?”
Kate blinks, then squeezes her eyes shut when the dryness of her eyes finally catches up with her, has to blink rapidly to prevent the gathering tears from falling as she turns her head towards the source of the familiar voice.
“Yelena,” she breathes out.
The other woman stands in front of her, looking tired but alive and very much here. Braid half undone, shoulders slightly hunched with her duffle bag in one hand, she looks hesitant and sad, smaller than Kate’s ever seen her. It’s odd, to see her with none of her usual confidence that made her seem even taller than Kate at times.
There’s a bruise on her jaw, and Kate is standing before she realizes, reaching for her almost instinctively before she stops herself, unsure if her touch will be welcome anymore. Instead, she lets her arm drop awkwardly, even as she doesn’t look away from the other woman’s face, memorizing it before it’s gone forever.
Yelena’s eyes track the movement, and her lips downturn further.
“Are you… okay?” she asks.
Kate doesn’t know how to answer that, but she opens her mouth regardless, to say something, anything. Instead, what comes out is a sob, one that seems to echo throughout the living room at the following silence. It’s a sound that surprises them both, and Kate’s wide eyes meet Yelena’s before she claps a hand over her mouth and ducks her head, not wanting the other woman to see her cry. There’s a small thud before arms are enveloping her, and Kate buries her face into Yelena’s shoulder. The scent of cypress squeezes her heart almost painfully with its familiarity, and Kate selfishly holds on tighter, knowing this might be the last time she’s allowed to do this.
Eventually though, Yelena lets go, and Kate reluctantly does so as well, though the other woman doesn’t go far, just takes a step back to give Kate a once-over. Her expression crumbles further when she looks at Kate’s neck, at the red marks that circle it.
“Oh Kate,” she breathes out, saying her name like it’s something precious. It brings fresh tears to Kate’s eyes. “I’m-“
“Don’t,” she cuts her off, voice still wobbly. “Don’t say my name like that, not when…” Not when you’re leaving, she wants to say, not when I don’t matter to you anymore. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“It was just a routine mission, Птич- Kate,” Yelena says, and the correction hurts, like Yelena is purposefully creating distance between them, reminding herself of it.
“You know what I mean.” She wipes her eyes. “I saw your note.”
“My note?” Yelena asks with a frown, as if she doesn’t know. It’s cruel, Kate thinks, to make her say it aloud, but she knows she has to.
“You said this,” she gestures at the distance between then, at each other, “isn’t working.”
Yelena’s brows furrow further, and now Kate’s slightly confused too.
“No,” Yelena says slowly, “I said the microwave wasn’t working.”
Kate blinks, swallows. “…what?”
“I said, in my note, you’ll have to use to oven instead to heat up the mac and cheese I left you in the fridge.”
Kate turns head in direction of kitchen, towards the note that is still on the microwave. The note that she never fully read.
“Oh,” she says lamely, with a lack of anything else to say. “I didn’t…” she trails off, since it’s fairly obvious she hadn’t read the whole thing. Relief trickles in, but it’s overshadowed by the embarrassment as she realizes her own stupidity.
“Did you think I disappeared from your life, with a note?” Yelena doesn’t sound offended, or disappointed, just sad that Kate would presume that’s how she’d be. Kate looks away and doesn’t answer, because they both know she did. “What we have, this, it’s precious to me, Kate, you’re-“ Yelena cuts herself off, sighs. “Did you eat? At all, today?”
The unexpected turn in conversation confuses Kate, even as she shakes her head.
“Okay,” Yelena says with a nod. She lets their hands brush, barely, almost experimental, and Kate’s heart aches when she realizes it’s because Yelena’s not sure if her touch is welcome anymore. She offers her a small nod, and Yelena takes her hand and leads them toward the kitchen. “Come, let’s get you fed.”
***
Kate sits at the table and watches Yelena cook. She doesn’t offer to help, and Yelena doesn’t ask. At some point Lucky joins them, having woken up from his nap, and goes back and forth asking for attention from both of them. Yelena stirring with one hand while giving Lucky his well-deserved scratches and softly cooing at him is a familiar image, one that Kate treasures even more now, knowing it was something she never thought she’d see again.
When Yelena places a plate in front of her - a simple stir fry - Lucky trots away, giving them room to talk, more perceptive than a dog should be. Kate’s grateful nonetheless.
She eats while Yelena sits across from her, staring down at her own hands, unmoving with the exception of the occasional blink. The silence is uncomfortable, choking; reminds her of the first time Yelena showed up at her apartment and cooked for her, the smile on her face in contrast with the danger gleaming in her eyes as she asked where Clint was. Like then, Kate’s nerves make it impossible to eat her share, and despite her stomach’s protests, she puts her fork down after eating maybe a third of it.
“You done?” Yelena asks, breaking the quiet.
“Yeah.”
Yelena reaches over to drag her fork and plate towards herself, and starts eating the rest, and it occurs to Kate that Yelena might not have had anything today either. She asks as such, curious, but also because she doesn’t wanting them descending back into silence.
“I ate a little on the jet.”
“Rations?” Yelena hums in affirmation. “Gross.”
“It is.” Yelena takes a couple of bites and pushes the plate to the side, not eating much either. “I was eight the first time I had something other than rations in the Red Room.”
It’s said almost casually, but Kate still sits up straighter, always does when Yelena starts to talk about her past, a slightly awkward but unapologetic tangent.
“There was a small village, next to the facility I was stationed in. We weren’t allowed to go there, but some of us managed to sneak out one night, and when we didn’t get caught, continued to.”
She doesn’t say why they didn’t run away, why they always went back, doesn’t have to. It’s never been explicitly said, but Kate knows by now that it was not out of loyalty to the Red Room, but because they believed they had no place in this world outside of it.
“Somebody must have seen us and thought we were orphans, because one day, they started leaving bread outside their building. We didn’t trust it at first, didn’t eat it, but they continued to leave bread outside day after day, probably even on the days we didn’t come to the village. Eventually, one of us caved and ate it, then shared it with the rest. It was bland, and cold, but after eating nothing but rations for years, it was the best thing we’ve ever had.”
The faintest of smiles sits on her lips, though it’s tinged with sadness.
“We continued to take the bread, but randomly. We didn’t want to have a pattern, be predictable. We took the bread for months, until winter began creeping in. One day, there was a note alongside the bread about how the air was getting colder, and how cold food wasn’t good for us. It told us to come in to warm ourselves and have bread that wasn’t frozen into a rock. And taped to the bottom of the note, was a key.
“Some of us were immediately suspicious, but the rest of us wanted to believe that whoever has been feeding us cared for us, was good. We’d never seen this stranger, but had conjured up images of what they might look like; in my head, she was an old lady, with wrinkles around her face that included deep laugh lines, someone who was undoubtedly kind. So, we took the key, and the next time, we entered the building through the back door.”
If Kate didn’t already know how this story was going to end, it’s confirmed by the way Yelena lets out a shuddery sigh.
“We entered, and there was no warm fireplace, or fresh bread, or a nice old lady waiting for us. Instead, there were guards who subdued us and beat us to an inch of our lives. Turns out, the Red Room knew from the beginning, since they orchestrated the entire thing. A test, one which we failed.
“We were dragged back to our rooms and starved for three days. Then, we were paired up and told to kill the other, that only those who survived deserved to eat. A reminder that loyalty to the Red Room trumped everything else, and that even the most basic sustenance was a privilege.” Yelena swallows and stares down at her hands again, at the lingering blood that only she can see. “Her name was Sofia, and she was the first person I ever killed.”
And Kate understands now, why this story was told, what’s not being said. How the key she gave reminded Yelena of that memory, an illusion of choice. How her words, claiming Yelena as if she was something to be owned, only made her feel even more trapped.
“I’m so sorry, Yelena.” It’s not an apology for what Yelena went through, because Yelena hates being pitied, but one for her own actions; a desperate attempt to keep Yelena close, choking her with her neediness. “I didn’t know- I didn’t mean to-“
“No no, don’t apologize, Kate. How could you know? There is so much you do not know about me.” Guilt laces her words, as if she owes it to Kate to talk about these things, even if it hurts to remember.
“And that’s fine, you don’t have to tell me everything about yourself. I know I can be pushy, but you’re allowed to-“
“No, I want to tell you,” Yelena cuts her off, and Kate shuts her jaw with a click. Yelena takes a deep breath, then slowly lets it out. “In the Red Room, we were constantly told that pain only makes you stronger, that it was like a chisel that sculpted our marble selves into what we needed to be.
“But sometimes, it didn’t feel like a chisel. It felt like a hammer, shattering what little of myself I had left, leaving me desperately clinging to the sharp pieces because I couldn’t let anyone know that I was breakable, that I was weak.”
Yelena’s hands ball into fists at the last word. Kate slowly reaches across the table, giving ample time for Yelena to move away, and places her hands atop Yelena’s, rough callouses over various rings, and feels them lose some of their tension.
“But you, you make me feel like I’m allowed to be those things. When I’m with you, I’m allowed to just be, with no expectations. I can show you parts of myself, even the most broken, jagged ones, and I know you won’t judge. You won’t give me empty, placating words or pretend to understand. You’ll listen, and you’ll stay.
“You said I was yours, yesterday. And I know I reacted horribly, but I still don’t know how to feel about it. But it also made me realize that…” Here, Yelena visibly hesitates, eyes darting around before settling on Kate’s again. “That I want you to be mine.”
She looks away again before Kate can fully interpret the emotions swirling in her eyes, can fully process the words that have been said.
“Kate, you’re the first good thing in my life in a long time. It’s as if the universe was apologizing for how my life turned out and sent you. Every moment I spend with you is a gift, and… And I’ve never been allowed to be selfish, but with you, I want to be.”
“But?” Kate prompts when Yelena doesn’t continue. It feels like they’re at the cusp of something, and Kate can barely breathe with the way her heart is pounding a bruise against her ribs.
Instead of answering, Yelena unfurls one of her fists and reaches across the table to gently trace Kate’s neck, making her shiver. Yelena doesn’t seem to notice, eyes trained on the angry marks Kate knows are there.
“But I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels that way about you. How can I be, with the way you are? There are plenty of other people who can cherish you the way you deserve to be, who won’t hurt you.“ She lowers her hand so that the pad of her fingers rest against the neckline of Kate’s shirt, above her clavicle. “I’m damaged goods, Kate, and you… you deserve better than me.”
She sounds resigned, as if this is an inevitable conclusion, a fact that she’s accepted and expects Kate to as well. A decision made without her input to keep her happy and safe. It reminds Kate of what her mother did, even if she knows It’s not the same.
“No.”
“Kate-“
“No,” Kate says again, a near shout. “You said your piece, now I’m saying mine.” She’s angry, even as her heart aches. “You’re not damaged goods, Yelena. You’re a person, a human being, and every human being has scars, physical or mental. Scars don’t mean you’re damaged, or that something’s wrong with you; it means you’re strong, to have survived whatever caused it and are still standing.
“And as for what I deserve, screw that, it’s a stupid thing to think about. You didn’t deserve to be in the Red Room and be forced to do all those things without free will. I didn’t deserve to have my dad taken away by fucking aliens. What we deserve doesn’t matter, because things rarely work out the way we think and hope they should. What matters is what we want.”
“And what do you want, Kate?”
There’s the smallest of tremors in Yelena’s voice, akin to trepidation, and her face reflects that hope, the most vulnerable Kate’s ever seen her allow herself to be. Kate leans in and shifts Yelena’s hand so it’s cradling her face.
“You. I want you, Yelena. Even the parts you think are too much, even the parts that I don’t know yet. I want all of you.”
“Even if I scare you, or hurt you?” Her voice breaks at the last two words, and Kate’s heart breaks with it. “Even when I have to leave for days for missions, and can’t be with you?”
“Even then,” she says, promises. Yelena lets out a stifled sob then. Kate reaches out, and Yelena takes her hand and places it against her own face, mirroring each other, and Kate uses her thumb to brush away the single tear that falls. “You said it yourself, I’ll stay. I’ll always stay, so you… you can always come back.”
Yelena doesn’t say anything, but she sniffles and nods. Kate kisses her palm and smiles, and after a moment, Yelena gives a small smile back.
***
“I like you a lot, you know, in case it wasn’t obvious,” Kate says later, as they get ready for bed. “I just realized I never actually said it.”
“I gathered,” Yelena says, a wry smile on her lips. She looks wrung out, even more so by the outside lights casting long shadows across her face, but also happier than Kate’s ever seen her. The sight of it makes her feel warm all over, knowing that she’s the cause of it. “I like you too, Птичка. So, so much.”
***
The next time Yelena shows up at her apartment, she proudly tells Kate that she used the key, and even pulls it out to dangle it in the air between them. The whole thing is terribly endearing, and Kate has to bite her lip in an attempt to smother her grin as she feigns ignorance and asks,
“Where’d you get that?”
“My girlfriend gave it to me,” Yelena says, smirking at how the word makes Kate’s cheeks flush. “My smart, kindhearted, and very, very hot-“
Closing the distance between them in two quick strides, Kate interrupts her with a kiss, one that Yelena eagerly reciprocates. It’s not their first kiss - that one happened before Yelena left, more of a brush of lips that still left them both breathless - but it feels just as special, just as significant.
“Welcome back, Yelena.” Welcome home, she almost says, but knows that Yelena hears it regardless.
“I don’t know, I don’t feel welcomed enough,” Yelena says with a mock disgruntled expression.
“We can’t have that,” Kate says, trying to adopt a serious tone and failing, which almost makes Yelena crack, and leans in to kiss her again and again and again until she loses count.