A Gift From: RavenAce
Title: Sisters
A Gift For: alphaflyer
Rating: T
Warnings/Choose Not To Warn: No warnings apply
Summary/Prompt Used: Yelena’s out for revenge for her sister’s death. She finds something unexpected.


Sisters

She’d been so close. So close to having her family back. Yelena didn’t know exactly how Natasha had died, didn’t know what had transpired between her and Clint to apparently make him turn on her. That hadn’t ever been made public knowledge, despite her best efforts to find out. “Died in action” didn’t mean shit, didn’t tell her what happened to Black Widow – to her sister.

Yelena had learned long ago that you didn’t need a connection of flesh and blood to love or be loved like a sister. Natasha had protected her, kept her as safe as she could as a child all those years ago – done it again when they took down the Red Room once and for all, together.

And then she’d lost her. They’d been in touch again, finally. Texted, called, met for coffee like normal sisters – or as close to normal sisters as a pair of ex-Red Room Widows could ever be. They’d had two years together, and then… Yelena had disappeared, along with half of the planet’s population. When she came back, when they’d all come back, she’d gone in search of Natasha and found only a gravestone, out in the middle of nowhere, barely acknowledged.

That’s why, when Valentina approached her with the picture of Natasha’s old partner… Yelena had been ready. Damn right she was going to avenge her Avenger sister, even if it was somehow another Avenger who had killed her. Been the cause of her death, either way it all meant the same thing to Yelena. Natasha was dead.


That’s how she found herself in the middle of nowhere, Missouri, sneaking into an old, weather-worn barn one night a few weeks later. Valentina hadn’t given her much, but Yelena had been trained by the best of the best – including Natasha herself. With some work, she’d tracked down this old farmhouse with Barton’s name on it.

There weren’t any animals in the barn, but there plastic trash bins with different types of feed against one wall, a four wheeler with a rack on the back and a medicine cabinet she’d looked through briefly that held recent prescriptions and in-date medications. She hadn’t seen any animals, but it didn’t look abandoned.

There was an old truck with Missouri plates parked near the house, a stack of firewood under an awning in the back. There had been lights on, earlier, but she hadn’t seen any movement really or anyone around yet, they were possibly on a timer. The place was quiet and still in the moonlight, and she easily climbed up into the hayloft to sit and wait out whoever might show up, tucking herself into a corner where she couldn’t be seen from below, should anyone show up.

Of course, she didn’t expect Kate Bishop. Which is how she found herself early the next morning, a young woman in combat boots hefting a bow with an arrow notched, pointed straight at her from across the loft. “Who are you?” She demanded, and Yelena slowly sat up.

“No one of consequence,” she said lightly, hands up in front of herself to imply she was unarmed. “Just looking for a place to lay my head for the night.”

“Bull,” the other girl said, eyes narrowing as she studied her. “Who. Are. You?”

Yelena grew bored rather quickly, these days. She stood smoothly, brandishing her gun quickly from where she’d kept it close by the night before. “Yelena Belova. And you are?” She said flatly, only slightly surprised when the girl didn’t back down. She could see the fire in her eyes, the will to live.

“Kate Bishop. You’re trespassing,” Kate said evenly, adjusting her stance but not flinching away at all from the older woman’s advances.

“I’m looking for Clint Barton,” Yelena said. “Tell me where he is and I’ll leave you be.”

Kate hesitated, shaking her head. “I’m not telling you that. And I’m not letting you go.”

“Fine,” Yelena said, putting her gun away and holding her hands up right. “You know him, though. So I’m sure that means he’ll show up sooner or later, won’t he? I’m not leaving until he does.

Kate frowned and stepped back, still holding the bow on her and giving an aborted shake of her head. “That’s- You’re here, so you already know it’s his place. I’m not answering that.”

“Then it seems we’re at a standstill,” Yelena shrugged. “You can leave me out here, or you can let me wait in the house.”


That’s how they ended up sitting at the kitchen table together, Kate and Yelena, eating soup and a loaf of French bread that Kate had conjured up from the deep freeze in the garage in complete silence.

Which really just amplified the chaos that ensued a moment later, when a few things happened all at once.

First, the back door slammed open, making Kate and Yelena both jump, drawing their weapons and swinging around to face the door in near-synchronized movement.

Second, Clint Barton stepped into the kitchen, a still-seeping scratch down over his eyebrow, face a little sallow and pale, and realized there were weapons pointed at him in his own kitchen. “What the-“

Third, and finally, Yelena realized Clint Barton was not alone. The gun clattered to the floor as she rushed forward, immediately sliding her body underneath Natasha’s arm, mirroring the way Clint was helping her into the house with his own arm thrown tight around her.

When her brain caught up with her body, Yelena realized that it couldn’t possibly be Natasha – Natasha was dead. Wasn’t she?

Clint went with it, helping Natasha to the couch with the help of the stranger on the other side of her, stepping back as Yelena crouched beside her, fingers twitching for a moment before she was tracing her face.

“Sestra?” She breathed, gasping softly when Natasha lifted her head and blinked blearily at her, nodding slowly.

“Yelena,” Natasha murmured, lifting her own hand to cup Yelena’s for a long moment.

“What happened?” Yelena demanded, looking up to find Clint in a similar state to Natasha, now that she looked at him.

“I brought her back,” he shrugged, as if it had been easy. As if he hadn’t fought tooth and nail to get down that cliff, to find her near-lifeless form at the bottom of it. To get her back strong enough to bring her home, though he overshot it by a couple of weeks.

Natasha smiled, soft and warm, still obviously exhausted, before leaning into Clint’s side and drifting off for a little bit.

Yelena looked back to Kate, who shrugged and walked over to start a pot of coffee, nonplussed by the turn of events.

Clint looked up at her, reaching to touch Yelena’s shoulder and squeeze, brotherly and affectionate as he finally recognized her. “Yelena. Natasha’s told me a lot about you. It’s really nice to finally meet her sister.”