Momento

Summary: After having her mind freed, Yelena finds a tattoo on her wrist. As she ponders where it came from, a piece of you returns to her.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! I’m trying to come up with different characters to write for so let me know if there’s anyone you’d like to see! :)

MasterlistIRequests

Part Two

The red mist had cut through the haze in her mind like a knife. It had been like waking up from some strange terrible dream, a groggy feeling weighing her down even as she felt a sudden horror rear its head. The woman who had freed her had passed away quickly, the wound in her stomach fatal as had been Yelena’s original terrible intention. Guilt had immediately rumbled through her at the sight of the limp figure upon the asphalt. This woman had freed her, at her own expense, and Yelena had barely had time to thank her.

She had left the scene quickly, recognising that sticking around were foolish if she wanted her freedom to last. As she had left the scene, wandering the city with this newfound freedom, she had realised the fog over her mind had not been entirely cleared. The red mist had allowed her some clarity but the fog was dissipating only slowly. Thoughts, feelings, and surface level memories had all haltingly pinged through her mind as she had mindlessly found herself a place to stay.

The hotel she had stumbled across was run down, the ceiling crumbling slightly each time she forced the front door open, but it was subtle. They asked no questions at the desk, even waving away her bloodied face with disinterest as they had handed her the rusted key. She wouldn’t be found here; she could let herself decompress.

Peeling her clothes off, rumpling her nose at the blood staining the dark material, she yanked the stiffened shower handle. The water spurted out violently for a moment until the pressure evened out leaving a steady, if slightly limp, stream of steaming water.

Stepping into the chipped ceramic at the bottom of the shower, Yelena let her shoulders drop against the warm water. She scrubbed her face, letting the water wash away the grime and sweat and blood of the day.

As she scrubbed over her skin, a strange dark patch at her wrist caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes at this splodge of darkness, Yelena focused her gaze upon what she now recognised as a tattoo. Clearly, it was not a professional tattoo, she doubted the red room would have allowed that. But it was clear enough in the quality; the line work too uneven and the colour fading. As Yelena wondered over this uneven, fading flower tattooed onto her wrist, a memory pushed itself to the fore-front of her mind; taking her breath away.

———————————————————————

Your hair tickled the bare skin of her thigh, your hair fanning around you as you laid on her bed, a pleasant laughter bubbled through her chest at the sensation. The lightness of this moment with you was in such strange contrast to the dark steel walls enclosing the pair of you. It was almost funny. You hummed to yourself, a strand of your hair twirling about your fingers as you became lost in thought; each passing day brought with it greater dread. You were both getting closer to the final step. You tried not to think of it but on nights like this the knowledge tainted every laugh and whisper and secret.

Your lips twisted down and she watched that dread overtake you. Your eyebrows pressed together, the shine of your eyes reflecting the harsh overhead lighting, and your storm of thoughts almost visible if she were to look deep enough. Determination cut through your dread, resetting your features into a tragic kind of acceptance.

You sat up quickly, causing Yelena to jump almost a foot in the air at the surprise. “I have an idea,” you told her. Your words were rushed out, the invisible clock that constantly ticked down almost audible behind your words. A panic had settled into your bones, Yelena could see it, and you were rushing to act. Your friendship had settled the nerves of the both of you over the years, but as you neared the end even the salve of your friendship could not soothe you. You were rifling through her only drawer, your actions reckless in hurry. She could only sit back and watch, blindsided by your sudden action in what had been such a slow moment. “You have a pen?” You threw over your shoulder.

Yelena shrugged back at you, still watching your back with an agape mouth. “Uh…”

You answered for her. “I got it,” you flourished the pen in your left hand before immediately breaking it apart with your right.

Slowly, a question fell from Yelena. “What are you doing?”

Ink cartridge of the pen laid carefully on the side, the broken plastic casing kicked under the bed, you were now fiddling with the safety pin you kept twisted in your hair. Hidden from prying eyes.

You snapped the sharp point from the hinge and replaced the point of the pen with your newly made pin. Eyebrows raising, Yelena called your name in hope of gaining some kind of answer from you.

Your shoulders dropped considerably at her insistence but your ministrations continued. A lighter now pulled from some hidden pocket and into your hands. “It won’t be long now,” you told her, bringing the contraption closer and sitting beside her. “You got me through this, Yelena, I don’t wanna forget you even when they force me to.”

Taken aback, Yelena fumbled over words as you pressed the contraption into her fingertips. The pair of you had made an unspoken agreement to leave the future wilfully undiscussed. An agreement that all the girls seemed to share; their friendships and even some romantic relationships rooted in the present with no mention of a future. It was easier for all the girls here to simply ignore the impending doom upon the horizon. It was a fact you would all one day be forced to forget each other. There was nothing to be done but to live in ignorance. Yelena had supported you throughout the trauma of the red room, and you her and the truth of your situation had not mattered. But now here you were, forcing the truth into the limelight.

Finding no eloquence, Yelena nodded and simply asked; “what… do I do?” Her acceptance of your request slowed your wringing hands and settled your breaths.

You talked her through the process, telling her she could mark you however she liked; in the end neither of you would understand this symbol of your closeness.

Yelena was far from artistic, at least she had assumed as much after years of battle hardening, and so the mark she left upon you was a mere uneven ‘Y’. When you looked to your wrist, to the mark now sat just above your pulse, you smiled softly. A grief shone in your eyes, for memories you were yet to lose.

Yelena wiped the tears from your cheeks, calloused fingertips soft as they traced the tracks. “Can you do me?” You grasped the fingers still upon your face, squeezed them lightly, and nodded with a deep breath.

Twisting her hand, cradling her wrist in your palm, you worked your lip as you considered. The sting of the pin did not bother Yelena. Her attention not shifting from your features as you watched yourself work with a determined concentration. Her lips pulled up at the sight. A happiness, however temporary, pooled in her chest in moments like these. It felt as though you were a pair of giggling schoolgirls at a sleepover whispering your secrets to each other. Yelena had never experienced anything like that, making friends had not been encouraged when she had been undercover, but this felt more than enough. A lightness that made her dizzy and a little too carefree overtook her.

When you finished your mark, you verbally diverted her gaze to view your work. “I hope you like it,” you told her with a giggle, “it’s kinda permanent.”

She huffed a laugh as she traced her eyes over the delicate lines. The petals were all slightly different sizes but compared to her wonky attempt on your wrist it was perfection. “I like it.” She confirmed, eyeing the ‘y’ on your wrist and feeling a little guilty that she hadn’t tried harder.

Reorienting her eyes upon you, you nodded. “Me too.”

Yelena pulled her hand free to grasp yours, a squeezing pressure that pushed her appreciation into you. What these years would have been like without you, Yelena could not begin to consider. Had it been a mistake, relying on one another so greatly?

Maybe it had been. Either way, it didn’t matter, Yelena could not stop the words as they fell from her. “I’m gonna miss you.”

There was no surprise upon your features at the words. Your eyes fell shut, a quiet smile joined with a single nod as you pressed your forehead to hers. “I know,” you whispered, “I’ll miss you too.”

A repetitive, rhythmic clanging sounded through the room. It seemed to echo all around you but the pair of you had been stealing these moments together for long enough that you recognised the warning. The girls here were not encouraged to help one another in any way, but they always did. A small rebellion in the face of the red room. This noise was a warning, passed on from room to room, from girl to girl, that room checks were taking place. You were not the only pair that would sneak into each other’s rooms, and everyone worked together to allow this continue.

Your time tonight had run out, it was time for you to leave Yelena’s room.

Automatically, the pair of you moved. The hatch that led to the ventilation space above Yelena’s room was already hanging open. You never bothered to close it after you in case you needed a swift exit. Silently, the pair of you huddled beneath it.

Usually, you would waste no time. Yelena would give you a leg up, you would immediately climb into the vents and proceed to drag yourself quickly back to your own room. Today, you both loitered; something felt different about today.

You pulled her into your arms. The embrace was short, as much as you both meandered you knew it was never safe to linger long after a warning, but the fierceness with which she held you was unrelenting. Pulling away, you shared a gaze filled with unspoken things - full of promises of what could have been. What should have been.

Eventually, she helped you up. Eventually, you dragged yourself back to your room.

Yelena went to training the next morning, the endless routine numbing in its repetition, but you weren’t there.

You had been moved to the next stage and she would not see you again. Yet her mind would linger on memories of you like the last leaf clinging to the tree when all others had crumpled and fallen. Your mind would not think of her, it would not know to grieve, but her initial would remain upon your wrist. The flower on her own wrist burned like a scorching reminder every day she was without you. Her best friend had been taken from her, and there was nothing she could do.

It would continue to burn until the memory of you was torn away. Until the mark on her wrist became nothing more to her than a faded splodge of artistic ink.

———————————————————————

Hands pressed before her like a desperate prayer, Yelena pressed her eyes shut. The salt of her tears washed away with the stream of steaming water. But the ink upon her wrist remained forever, stark against her wrist just as the memory of you was suddenly shining in her mind.

She couldn’t help a tired yet hopeful part of her from wondering; where are you?

tonkysexist:

The Black Widow movie highlights all the problems I had with the way Joss Whedon approached the forced hysterectomy aspect of Nat’s background.

As Yelena notes when she shows Nat her vest- the girls of the Red Room don’t have bodily autonomy. They can’t make any decisions for themselves. The hysterectomy bit in the plane acts as a very vile and vivid example of this.

Joss Whedon chose to put all his focus on the “no kids” angle instead of the bodily autonomy angle. In his eyes the horror was the absence of child bearing, not the absence of choice. To him- it’s a given that all the girls in Red Room would’ve had babies if their lives had gone differently- bc women who can’t have children are monsters and societal outcasts.

When Nat inquired about Yelena wanting kids she replied that she wanted a dog. I take this as Yelena doesn’t want kids, BUT she still mourns the loss of that choice. She resents how she never had a chance to come to that realization herself. Which, for most women, will hit home more than just “shes infertile and it’s the worst possible thing that could happen to her.”

Not to be dramatic, but Phase 4 ✨WOMEN✨ about to be the death of me ✌️

Tony: What do you think Nat will do for a distraction?

Y/N: They’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*

Y/N: … or they could do that

kate bishop and yelena know every word to “all too well (10 minute version) (taylor’s version) and you can’t tell me differently