Work Text:
A mother held her new baby and
very slowly rocked him back and forth,
It was darker than she remembered. The cold of the cement seemed to radiate through her Widow mandated tennis shoes. Her escort didn’t seem to mind that the room was almost impenetrably dark. Dark and smelling fowl like urine, faeces, stomach acid, and diaper rash. Melina wanted to turn around, run away as fast as she could towards the electric fence. Being fried was a better life than this.
There were obstacles. The guards and doors? Those were nothing. No, the biggest obstacle was psychological. One small mistake and Madame G would report back to Madame B, who would most certainly report to the General and make it worse than it was. Widows were to be perfect, and perfect wasn’t self preservation.
At first Melina had assumed that this part of the facility was the same as the part she had lived most her life in. She’d forgotten though, how it was a labyrinth unlike the ones she had grown up in. She hadn’t been in this part for decades, the halls for babies and toddlers who were not yet ready to start official training. A place where she still had nightmares of staring up at blurry faced matrons and doctors holding supernaturally long needles for her next set of injections. The next set of tests that would determine whether she was strong enough, fast enough, to move up.
The only sound in the room was that of children whimpering as the lights flickered to life, the hum of old electricity poorly wired into place. Melina amended that her memories were distorted as her eyes flickered around and took in her surroundings. It was different than she remembered, yet the same. Instead of threadbare cots with leather straps to hold them down, the babies and toddlers sat on mattresses within wire cages.
Decades ago the matrons had told them they were simply animals being held in a cage, having basic training before they could become show dogs. Melina supposed that was true, especially now when they didn’t even deserve a proper cot.
Madame G moved towards the back of the room. The further in they went, the louder the howling of one of the children was. One who had not yet been taught that silence was the God they worshipped. She laid there on the bed, limp like a doll unstuffed. Blonde hair streaked with dirt, blood, vomit. She was new, that much Melina could tell even before she could see her. The girl held out her arms, despite the red stripes that littered all exposed skin showing that they had been trying to beat that out of her.
“This one is yours.” Madame G stated, pulling out a key ring. Hundreds of keys chimed against each other, the sound too light for the desolation they stood in. The blonde girl stayed in her spot as the door was opened, obviously learning enough not to move out of the cage without being told.
“What’s her name?” Melina turned to look at Madame G, refusing to cower under her dark stare like she had as a child. If she wanted to be technical, the Iron Maiden was above all widows, even the ones who trained the young. But, if showing this woman even a sliver of respect meant she could get out of that place sooner, Melina would give her an entire platter.
“Yelena Belova. Aged two, three in two days.” she cracked a sinister smile, as though it was some sort of joke the girl had been ripped away from her family so early in life. The grey haired woman nodded down at the little girl, letting her know she was permitted to leave her cage. “The General has said she will be one of our most successful.”
Melina bit her tongue. The General said that about them all, justified his anger for when they failed.
The child was slow leaving the cage, but when she was fully out Melina scooped her up in a way the books she’d been studying said to. The child was stiff in her arms, already associating physical contact with harm. Good, one less lesson she needed to teach her; yet one lesson she had to deprogram since she was now her child, needed to act affectionate in front of the Americans. The further they got from the room, the loser the child became until she was silently sucking her thumb against Melina’s shoulder.
If only the child knew what she was capable of, she would not be so affectionate with her. So quick to trust. Melina knew even the thought of the child knowing what she was capable of was not possible. Children this young did not have good memories, only remembering things unconsciously that were poignant. Not enough to be weary of the strange woman who was taking her away from her ghostly existence.
“I am your mama now.” Melina spoke to her in English, slowly, annunciating so the girl would get used to the word formation and sounds. She placed her into the car seat in the back of the car they had been loaned, strapped her in tightly so that there was no possibility of her moving. The child whined, and Alexei looked back with furrowed brows. It turned into a full on wrinkle of his nose as the smell that emanated from the child hit him. “This is your papa.”
Large, watery hazel eyes looked between them. Tears still streaked down her face, leaving ribbons where they moved the muck that covered her. Melina shut the door loudly, moving to sit into the front seat and strapping herself in. As soon as the door closed Alexei was driving, the child was screaming. Loud, wordless screams.
Melina had never heard someone scream like that, even a child (despite her limited experience with children, even as a child herself). This wasn’t a cry of anguish, a cry about imminent death or begging to take their life instead of their families. This wasn’t crying about a physical injury. No, Melina couldn’t pinpoint the reason for these cries, couldn’t pinpoint where the sounds came from. It twisted something inside her that she worked hard to push back.
The safehouse Their house was set deep in Moscow, an area where neighbours wouldn’t question that their children did not act right, were injured. A place where they wouldn’t wonder why they were leaving so quickly. Melina got out of the house first, watching as Alexei took in the failing exterior.
“You should bathe her.” he pointed out as he moved out of the car, taking an exaggerated deep breath of air. A retort building on the tip of her tongue, but Melina refused to voice it as she pulled the child out. The girl seemed suspicious of her still, but still pressed her nose into her neck. Mouthing words with no voice. She walked up to the door, followed by the man holding their bags.
The door was unlocked, a red haired child sitting on one of the chairs, eyes locking on hers as soon as she entered. Thankfully, she was older than the toddler. Old enough to bathe herself, wipe her own ass. “You can deal with her.” Melina stated, not stopping to ask the girl her name. She walked past the statue-like child to go into the dingy washroom they had been supplied with.
From the outside it was obvious the house was not well cared for. From the inside, it was evident that the last person who cared about the house had most likely died inside it. Mould creeped up the windowsills, mildew in the corners of the shower. The child ( Yelena , she had to remind herself every couple minutes) had started to scream again when they entered the washroom; though, the sound had started to peter out as Melina rubbed an unwilling hand up and down her back.
She turned a couple knobs, pleased that clean warm water rushed into the tub unperturbed. Melina stripped her out of the dirt clothing, throwing them into the bin rather than saving them. There was no need anymore for training uniforms, there would only be soft, child indulgent colourful clothing from now on. Finally she plopped the girl into the water, started looking eyes staring after her as she left the room to find the child clothing in the room they were all to sleep in.
She’d only been rifling through the clothing for a minute when Alexei appeared, the red haired girl following him like a shadow. “You can’t leave a baby alone in the bath.” he hissed at her, pushing the red haired girl in. “We will find her clothes.” she cursed herself, hurrying back to the washroom. She cursed the General for putting her in this situation that was so unlike anything she had ever done before.
Yelena was just sniffling now, pitifully hitting the water and staring up at her with leaking eyes. Melina was able to be more gentle than she ever had been before, slowly tipping the blonde hair back to pour water down it. Massaging in child-friendly shampoo then rinsing it out with warm water. By time they were done, the girl’s eyes were mostly closed, thumb finding its way back into her mouth in a habit Melina knew they’d need to break.
She wrapped her up in a towel – one of the few that weren’t covered in blood stains, didn’t smell like a men's locker room – and rubbed it through the girl's hair. She still had to focus on the correct way to pick the girl up, but hugging her to herself, head resting above her heart, oddly seemed to come naturally. Somehow she was able to rock back and forth as she walked into the bedroom, able to ignore the looks given to her by Alexei (amusement) and the red haired child (fear). She placed the girl down on the bed, ignoring the way she whined as they were disconnected.
The diaper was placed on her, onesie put on, then Melina was holding her again, looking out the window as snow started to fall once more on Moscow.
The baby grew. He grew and he grew
and he grew. He grew until he
was two years old,
Just as Madame G had said, two days later was Yelena’s third birthday. What almost seemed like a normal toddler was appearing. She followed Natasha around the house incessantly, getting used to speaking words in English versus in Russian like she had been taught. Despite this, she still only spoke when spoken to, preferring to try and do things by herself like her fake-sister than asking for help like the toddler she was.
It was good for a soon-to-be-widow, not good for a well adjusted American toddler.
Yelena would pull the meagre amount of coloured cardboard books off of the shelves to find the one she wanted Alexei to read to her. Shoved all the food out of the fridge until she found the snacks she preferred, looking at them waiting for praise for her ingenuity.
“This child is crazy.” Alexei complained when Yelena finally went down for her afternoon nap, as though he had been the one taking care of her most of the day and not out running errands to get ready for their move. Natasha sat in front of him reciting out a story in English to him to practice her pronunciation, her accent, before they left.
“She is trying to push our boundaries.” Melina replied to him as though reading from a textbook, “the word is pronounced po-lee-ss-mmm-an Natasha.” she doesn’t look up as she puts the finishing touches on the bird's milk cake she had sent Alexei out for that morning. “Very normal,” she looks back at him, “Helena simply wants to see what she can get away with.”
“Where did you find that out?” he scoffed, “a parenting book?”
“Yes.” she shrugged, taking a step back to make sure the cake was perfect. Slowly putting three candles on the top. “Important research. Where did you find out about reading to her with silly voices, American propaganda?” she asked, mocking as he did.
“No.” he sounded legitimately offended, looking at her from over the top of the couch. “My father.” Melina swallowed her voice, pulled her eyes away from him. She took strawberries and currently out of a bowl she had placed them in before, arranging them around the cake to look prettier for the girls. “You didn’t know, Melina, it’s okay.”
“You do not have a father.” her American accent was out in full force, harsh. “He died in Vietnam when you were a child, remember Alex . You told me on our second date.” his eyes darkened a bit, but nodded as he turned back to Natasha once more, encouraging her to choose another book to read to him.
By the end of the night, the cake had been eaten, Yelena had ended up running around the house in excitement and wearing herself out. Even Natasha had a sparkle in her eyes from the cake, shocked that they were allowed to have more than one small piece. Alexei told them stories to get them to sleep, Melina cuddling Yelena to her chest like she was starting to when getting worried about the mission. A crutch she would need to end.
Even after the girls were asleep, Alexei continued to be helpful by helping her clean up the mess of balloons, cream, and rice that had been thrown around everywhere by their now three-year-old. If Melina had done that, she would have been punished. Had seen the fear of punishment in Natasha’s eyes. Instead they laughed, waved off the trauma.
“We leave in a week.” Alexei reminded her, voice quiet as to not wake the girls sleeping in the room next door. Melina paused as she wiped down the counters. Only a week to become someone else without an extensive folder, someone that she was going to be for more than a night. She nods, looking across the room at the cracks in the window.
“We have to be realistic.” she doesn’t look away from the darkness outside, “we cannot argue like on normal mission. Get along. Be in love.”
Love is for children .
“Real.” Alexei nodded to her, “affection in public. Got it.”
“All the time.” she corrected, finally looking across the room at him. “The best lies are born from truth. This is now our truth. We are happy married couple with two young girls. In love. Even at home when we do not think anyone is watching – we act this way. There will be a room for truth, a tiny sliver in the act. Neither girls must go in there. Children are forgetful, will say things they should not even if trained to be silent. We. Cannot. Take. Any. Risk.”
“Always so serious.”
“One of us has to be.” She gives him a look.
“Fine, we will be perfect. No errors. On one condition.” Alexei rounded the counter, leaning against it beside her. Looking down at her with so much affection in her eyes she wanted to take one of the spoons from the drawer and dig his eyes out with it. “We aren’t doing anything you aren’t okay with, Melina. Deal?”
She looked away, the words unexpected. Using her for sex, she understood. Was used to. This? “Okay.” she looked back up at him, “That is a deal, Alex.”
“Perfect, Mel.”
She never told Alexei that night that his words bring her relief, even as they tiptoe into the bedroom and lay down on the larger bed designated for them. She does not need to fear anything will happen, does not need to fear him trying to touch her in her sleep. She waited until Alexei’s breathing was deep, always on the verge of snoring but never doing so. She listened to the breathing of the two girls, Natasha with an arm above her head, Yelena with her thumb in her mouth.
Crawling out of bed, she slowly makes her way across the room, dodging the bags of shopping Alexei had brought home. She sat on the floor beside Yelena’s cot, and pulled the little girl into her arms. It was easier this way, to learn how to hold the child when she was asleep rather than awake. There was less squirming, less questions, less annoying noises and little heels kicking her kidneys this way.
That’s what she told herself, anyway.
Melina let Yelena curl into her as she rocked side to side slowly, letting herself rest her cheek on soft blonde hair, the smell of artificial soap wafting up to her nose. The girl's hair shone even in the dark.
“Mom?” she heard a quiet groggy voice, still plagued by the accent of their native tongue. Natasha looked up at her from her cot.
“Go back to sleep, baby.” the American accent sounded false even to her own ears, “Helena just had a bad dream. Everythings okay.”
Natasha looked at her through eyes thinned by suspicion, but laid back down and closed them obediently. Her breathing didn’t go back to normal until Melina put Yelena down and went back to her own cot.
In the morning, she found Natasha sleeping in Yelena’s cot.
He grew until he was nine years
old. And he never wanted to come
in for dinner, he never wanted to take a bath,
and when grandma visited he always
said bad words.
By the end of their first year in Ohio, both girls had become unnervingly comfortable with them. Melina liked to credit this to her meticulous routine scheduling. She had read that those were good for children, so she kept a routine that worked for everyone in their family. Snacks were eaten after school since they had a late dinner, Alexei got home from work at seven. Cartoons were watched before school, otherwise on special occasions. Showers were taken after dinner before bed, hair was braided during bedtime stories.
On Saturdays the girls had ballet in the mornings. They would go out for hot chocolate if they were extra good. In the afternoons Alexei would play with Yelena, and she would work on combat training with Natasha in the basement. On Sundays after Church (they had found out quickly their neighbourhood was highly religious, and if she wanted to keep Barb off her back that was where they had unwillingly found themselves) she would take Yelena to the park at the end of the neighbourhood. There she would make a game out of Yelena getting across the monkey bars without falling. Climbing up the fireman’s pole while others slid down it.
Melina’s girls may not have been anywhere near weak, but they were wilder than most of the children she interacted with. They ran around the backyard screaming constantly, chasing after invisible monsters and saving princesses hidden in the trees, crying over skinned knees and trapping wildlife to bring inside as pets.
Melina looked up from the marinate she was mixing as thunder rolled across the sky. She put down the oil, walking down the step to the patio door. The screen was shut, but the glass open to let in the late spring air while keeping bugs out. She watched for a moment as the girls ran around, glee present in their faces as the mud splashed around them. Their rainboots may have protected their feet, but not their clothes.
“Girls, come inside please!” she called out to them, opening the screen and moving back to finish dinner prep. Alexei had rung and told her he would be home earlier than normal, meaning they could have an early dinner and movie night with the girls. It was the beginning of summer, school finally letting out. Natasha had cited that they got to stay up past their bedtimes in the summer (information provided by Michelle who sat beside her in class); and four year old Yelena, wanting to do everything her sister did, had agreed wholeheartedly.
A stampede of elephant footed children ran through the door, the patio door swinging shut behind them. Both girls ran into the kitchen laughing, bee-lining towards the fridge. Melina was content with the girls' laughter, they hadn’t broken the door after all. That was, until she looked down at her floor and realised that while they may have shed their boots, there was still a trail of mud following them.
“Stop!” she called before they could make it to the carpet, “Natasha, Helena, what have I said about bringing mud into the house?” her hands rested on her hips, looking at the spots in exasperation. She had just mopped the floor the day before, making sure it was swept every night. Now it would have to be cleaned. Again.
“Not to make it super messy.” Natasha said, guilt colouring her tone and red making its way up her neck, “Sorry, mom.”
“Sorry, mommy” Yelena parroted, ignoring her juice box to throw her arms around Melina’s legs in a hug. One she would have been more receptive of if it wasn’t covered in mud. She patted the top of the blonde head, the only part of her daughter not covered in mud.
“Sorry doesn’t stop mud from being in the house.” she shook her head and sighed, “you two need to think more before you act. Clean it up, please.”
“Huggies?” Yelena asked, looking up at her with large pleading eyes. Melina shook her head, carefully detaching the girl from her legs.
“Hugs are for when mommy’s floor is clean, little girl.” she poked Yelena in the stomach, causing her to giggle, then looked over at Natasha who was grabbing the paper towel. “Hugs for both of you.” her older daughter brightened as she nodded. Melina rolled her eyes as she turned back to the chicken so the girls couldn’t see. Children were so easy to please, much easier than adults.
Putting the chicken on a baking dish, she placed it in the oven then made her way upstairs. Melina moved fluidly through Natasha’s room to get the girl clean pyjamas. Natasha’s room was always clean, while Yelena’slooked as though a bomb had gone off. Despite the fact the child continually tried to emulate her sister, something Melina wasn’t completely displeased with since it meant she would learn some unconscious widow movements from Natasha instead of having it drilled into her, she hadn’t learnt how to keep her bedroom clean.
Melina tried to blame it on the fact that Yelena was only four, but it still irked her at the best of times. Those times were when Yelena cried out for her in the middle of the night after a bad dream.
She grabbed Yelena’s favourite pyjamas from the drawer. She placed Natasha’s in the washroom the girls shared, then Yelena’s in her own, and started up the tub. Even putting bubbles in to make it more appealing to the girl who hated water, before heading back downstairs.
Natasha was throwing out the soiled towels, and Yelena had decided to strip from her muddy clothes while she was upstairs. There was an attempt at “helping” by the little girl by rubbing a wet towel on the clean part of the floor, obviously a ruse by Natasha so her sister wouldn’t make an even bigger mess.
“Good job girls, thank you.” she praised, pulling Yelena up into her arms. “Hugs for my baby girl.” she gave Yelena a soft squish, not flinching as the little girl squealed happily in her arms and wrapped tiny arms around her neck. Making sure Yelena was settled on her hip, she pulled Natasha into her side, feeling the older girl's thin arms snake their way around her own waist. “Thank you big girl.”
She swayed them for a moment, the soothing motion to show the girls that she wasn’t mad at them.
Paise? Check. Affirmation?
“I love you both so much.”
Check.
Slowly, Melina led the girls up to the second floor, letting go of Natasha’s hand when they reached the door to the washroom. “Can you shower, please? I put pyjamas out for you. You can choose different ones, though, if you want.” Giving her a choice was something Melina and Alexei had tried to do in almost all instances, Melina never having that as a child.
Melina wished she had many things the girls had when she was a child, really. Only giving herself the assurance that at least if she couldn’t have those things, then she could give them to her girls. Even if it was only for a short period of time, and would one day be destroyed for them. Sometimes the moment was better than the long run.
“Bath time little girl.” Melina jostled her youngest, walking into her bathroom and making sure the door was shut so Yelena couldn’t run. The mirror was steamy, and the bubbles sickeningly fragrant.
“Nooo….” Yelena trailed off, trying to get out of Melina’s arms. “No clean, mommy.”
“Yessss, clean, Lena.” she replied in the same tone, using one hand to pull the underwear off the squirming girl and placed her in the warm water with ease. “Just think, the sooner you’re clean, the sooner mommy can check on dinner. Then, the sooner dinner is finished, the sooner daddy will be home from work.”
At the mention of Alexei, Yelena perked up. Her eyes went comically large, excited, joy sparkling within.
“Daddy! Daddy!” she chanted, hitting the bubbles and laughing as they flew into the air.
“Yes!” Melina cheered quietly to her, the corners of her mouth pulling up in a way she could no longer say was fake. “Daddy wants a clean Lena to meet him, though. Think we can achieve that?”
The child set her face in some form of a serious face, nodding. “Yes.” she rubbed bubbles onto her arm, grinning up at Melina, “all clean, mommy. Like ‘Tasha does.”
“You’re still my little one, Lena. So, not quite like Natasha. Soon you’ll be big like her, though.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I’m big girl, now!”
“As long as i’m living,” Melina spoke softly, getting the little tub to run water through Yelena’s hair, “my baby you’ll be.
He grew until he was
a teenager. He had strange friends
and he wore strange clothes and he
listened to strange music .
Her daughter almost vibrated in her seat. “I’m so excited!” Natasha grinned over at Melina. The older woman nodded indulgently, smiling at her daughter over the magazine she was pretending to read as she watched the stylist. Alexei’s new coworker had transferred over from New York, and his wife had opened a salon. They had decided they needed to be proactive, pressure being put on them by the General to get them more information.
So, Melina had decided it would be a good idea to talk to her, bond, and gain another insight into the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Of course, and The Northern Institute.
Therefore she had decided to give into Natasha’s months of pestering and let her get her hair done professionally rather than just at home. Melina had felt some trepidation as she watched her ten year old pick out the blue hair dye, watching the red fall to the floor then fade away with bleach.
“Thank you so much, mom.”
“Of course, honey.” Melina replied, not paying as much attention as she probably should have. She glanced at the woman talking at the front desk to another customer. She hadn’t told Alexei her specific plans, waiting until after it was done to ask for forgiveness rather than ask permission.
Not that she needed permission.
“I’m glad you’re having fun.” she meets Natasha’s happy grin in the mirror.
In the end, Natasha’s hair ended up brighter, shorter, than Melina had thought she was going to go. She almost feared Alexei’s reaction, that was if she didn’t know he was really soft for the girls. Wouldn’t fight her on this as long as it was what Natasha really wanted. He may have made a fuss, but he was all bark and no bite. At least, not in front of the girls. To them, he was just daddy. They never knew the Red Guardian.
She took Natasha to Claire’s to get a present for Michelle’s birthday, letting her pick out her own matching choker so she could be “twins” with her best friend. Natasha was noticeably vibrating with excitement in the seat beside her, pulling the packaging off her own necklace to put it on. She didn’t even complain about the music on the radio, which shocked Melina.
By the time they got home, the lights were on signalling the other two were home. Melina knew that Alexei’s coworker was going to drop him off. She figured he’d pay the babysitter who cared for Yelena that afternoon. Letting Natasha walk in before her, she made sure that the car was locked and that the garage door was fully closed (Alexei had shown he’d fix it the week before, but it was still broken as ever).
Inside she heard Yelena’s squeals of excitement as she took off her shoes, the deep vibrations of Alexei’s voice. Yelena ran around the corner and climbed up like a monkey, chanting her name and babbling about Natasha’s blueberry hair, when she finally heard Alexei.
“Baby, what’s happened to my daughter's hair?” he asked, eyes not leaving Natasha as Melina walked into the kitchen. She placed the grocery bag on the counter, setting Yelena back on the ground.
“Natasha turns eleven this year, is going to middle school, I decided that she should get some agency over her own hair.” Melina replied casually as she pulled the stead out of the bag, the package of fries that she opened right away and spread out on a baking tray. “She chose blue.”
“Do you like it dad?” Natasha asked him, looking up with wide eyes and a voice filled with hope. Alexei nodded, a pained smile on his face.
“I love it, sweetie. Hey, why don’t you guys go watch some ‘toons before dinner?” The girls cheered as they ran off, making their way into the living room. Melina could hear them arguing about Bugs Bunny and Yogi Bear, but decided they were mature enough to make their own decisions.
Melina turned on the oven to preheat, put the yoghurt and milk into the fridge. Alexei’s eyes were on her, penetrating, but Melina simply smirked at the condiments so he couldn’t see her face. She turned around to open the package of steak to tip onto a plate to rest before Alexei grilled them.
Warm hands made their way around her waist, under her shirt, fingers spreading across her stomach. “Blue?” he asked quietly in her head, following her gaze out the window. “Not very… what’s the word… incognito.”
“Children dye their hair all the time.” Melina replied to him, reaching towards the sink to wash her hands, “it’s, what you would call an American indulgence.” she turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Nobody will know. You’re like all fathers, angry about their baby girls growing up. I am like all mothers, giving into her every whim… perfect parents.”
“Perfect huh?” he breathed against her lips, “I’ll say.” their lips sealed together.
That night, while Melina put away their daily reports, Alexei kissed the top of her head, lingering with her in his arms. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom,” he finally said, reluctantly pulling away, “I want to check on the girls.” she hummed in response, not particularly paying attention to him as she checked over what he had written before it could be sent away to the General. Even three years in, they were weary of mistakes.
Alexei made his way up the stairs carefully, quietly, making sure to skip the trick steps. He checked on Yelena first. Her room was a mess always, the crown her night light made out of shadows on the wall obscured by the blanket that had been thrown off carelessly in her sleep. He shook his head at the wildness of it all, moving it back on top of her. Making sure she was fully asleep, he closed the door behind him and made his way to the next room.
Natasha’s room was darker than her sisters, no night light plugged into the wall but glow in the dark stars glued to the ceiling. Alexei made his way across the room, and kneeled on the floor beside his blue haired daughter's bed. He looked at her, catalogued the changes in her face from when he first met her. The girl was terrified of everything, reading him books in stilted English. Now she slept deeply, breathing deeply. The smartest kid he had ever met.
Alexei sighed quietly, and smoothed her hair back lovingly. He knew they were close to the end, and never wanted anything to happen to her now. But she would be stronger than the rest, and would protect her sister. Her nose twitched, but she simply sighed and shifted.
A sign she knew she was safe.
“I love you little girl,” he whispered to her, “Don’t grow up too fast and leave you old man behind, okay?”
That teenager grew. He grew and he
grew and he grew. He grew until
he was a grown-up man. He left home
and got a house across town.
But sometimes on dark nights
the mother got into her car and drove
across town.
It had been three years since their fateful night. The one that still brought tears to her eyes when she woke up, tears that she locked away behind iron walls.
Melina walked down the halls of the room, her head held high. These passages seemed shorter now than when she was a child full of fear. Now it showed the limitations of her movements. Younger widows cowered against the walls as she walked, never looking down at them, eyes blank showing that she was not going to move for them, they were going to move for her.
She was the Iron Maiden. Even if that mantle had been stripped from her like a waxing strip by the government, even if their government had crumpled under the weight of the Western powers. She would always be feared, that was the only thing she had to hold onto and she would with an iron first.
The first prototypes of chemical subjugation had been created under her. Tested on girls who would not be completing the program, their only use being to test this new creation before they were burned to turn into the shadows they were always meant to be.
It had failed.
Melina was able to see where the faults were, and was already working on the calculations to fix it. She could have it done in months.
The General had been angry.
Just because she had welts on her face, visualisation of why you don’t anger him, didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous like others liked to think. In fact, if anything it made her more dangerous. Hurt people hurt people, and Melina had more hurt brewing in her than anyone ever thought was possible.
She opened the door to the shooting range watch room, glass covered walls the only thing separating them and the little girls discharging deadly weapons. Melina glanced out as she walked over to the newly appointed Madame B to give her the files that the General had ordered her to deliver before going back to the labs.
Melina froze, breath catching in her throat when brilliant red hair shone under the artificial lights. It had grown out, the blue completely gone. Natasha would be thirteen, fourteen in only a few short months. There she stood, so close but behind glass and unable to see her. Hear her. Gun held up, blank look of concentration on her face. Tongue peaking out from behind her lips.
“That one, Natalia.” she pointed out to Madame B as the gun went off. The blonde woman looked at her with a glare, challenging her to comment on one of her widows. Her trainees. Protective over the children she was to destroy. “Tongue sticks out when concentrating. Liability.”
Madame B followed her gaze, head snapping to look out and eyes hardening as she noticed. “Natalia Romanova!” she shouted, voice hard as ice. She opened the door that separated them, Melina leaving the room quickly before green eyes could see her. The sound of a rifle butt cracking into skin echoed in her mind.
That night, Melina did what he hadn’t in years and snuck away from her own quarters. It was laughably easy, dislocating her thumb to slip out of her cuffs, slipping past the guards who never thought a woman would actually be able to pass by them. She had studied their routines for years, ever since she was given the clearance to. Waiting for the right moment.
She was silent down the halls, moving easily through the labyrinth she had grown up in. She got to the little girls wing on the third floor, slipping into the room past the guards as they talked about the last widow they’d fucked the night before.
The girls had all been drugged to sleep, a common practice to stop them from sneaking out. Their ranks had thinned since the days they had been babies sleeping in cages, now they were little girls tethered to walls. Melina made her way down the rows of girls with identical braids, right arms all locked to the wall above their heads. Until she finally came to the girl she had longed to see.
Melina kneeled down beside the bed, hands steady despite the shaking of her insides. Yelena had grown up hidden behind these walls, face thinned out with the loss of baby fat, hair longer and darker. Even in sleep, she had lost the innocence that Melina had treasured in her youngest baby. She gently smoothed out the shorter baby hairs around Yelena’s temples, careful of the bruises blooming there, and rested her forehead on Yelena’s free hand.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.” she whispered, a rare tear trailing down her face and landing on the bed beside Yelena. Her voice was masked by the heavy breathing of twenty girls all living in the same, small room. Slowly she stood back up on solid feet, pressed her lips to Yelena’s forehead to say goodbye, and moved out of the room.
Nobody saw her as she snuck back out, she was sure of it as she snuck passed the guards patrolling the halls once more. Passed the ones outside her corridor. She made her way back into her room, re-braiding her hair for something to do with her hands before sleep, when she heard a voice.
“Thank you, for showing us the flaws in our security.” Melina turned. The General stood in her doorway, staring at her with a look of morbid curiosity, anger, and lust. “Madame B told me about you catching Natalia today. Or should I say, Natasha .” she held her tongue, keeping her face impassive. “I have a new assignment for you. Effective immediately.”
Well, that mother, she got older.
She got older and older and older.
[...]
When he came in the door she tried
to sing the song. She sang:
I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always…
Melina took a deep breath. “Stop fussing.” she ground out between her teeth, back to her daughter who insisted on staying up with her as she made tea. Who watched her every move anxiously, like she was about to collapse.
“Not fussing, watching.” Yelena insisted. Melina rolled her eyes, limping three feet to the kettle as it screamed from the stove and flipped the lid so the steam could escape. “Want some help?”
“No, I don’t. That, now that, is fussing.” she gave her daughter Yelena a look. The blonde shut her mouth, pretending to zip it shut. It was late, her father had already gone to bed citing that prison had gotten him on a tighter sleeping schedule. Yelena figured he was just trying to give them alone time to reconnect.
It wasn’t going well. Nope, not at all. Yelena wanted her mother to sit down, rest like she was forcing the rest of them to do. The woman had broken her leg, and despite the fact that had gotten it set by another widow, she still wasn’t supposed to be on it all the time. Besides, Melina was getting older. Yelena knew that older people didn’t heal as well.
Melina had been alone for a long time though. Didn’t like help, didn’t like how it insinuated that she was weak. Wasn’t used to help coming from friendly faces.
“How did you meet papa?” Yelena asked as she accepted the mug of tea Melina passed her. Her mama raised one eyebrow as she sat across the table from her daughter. She stirred in a small amount of sugar to her tea, wrinkling her nose at the obscene amount of milk and sugar Yelena put in her own.
“On a mission. We were partnered.”
“What was the mission?”
Melina found herself exhaling deeply out of her nose, looking past her daughter for a moment at the closed bedroom door. “It was cited internationally as peace talks in Afghanistan. In reality we went in to kill those who were sending intel to the Americans. Then framed it on the Americans.”
Yelena nodded thoughtfully as she watched her mama. It wasn’t unusual for jobs in their field to get increasingly messy like that. To put the blame on other individuals, other leaders and cultures. Melina didn’t know how many people she had killed in her reluctant career, how many peoples killings she had replicated. It wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about, wasn’t something she was proud of. Even before being introduced to the girls, it had been a taboo subject. Despite being groomed to kill, the widows were groomed to be ashamed of it, too.
“How did you meet me?”
“Madame G handed you to me.” more or less , Melina stated bluntly. “The nursery was…” she hesitated for a moment, unsure how much Yelena remembered. How much she wanted her to know, versus how much she deserved to know. “Inhumane.” she settled on. “However cruel it was to give you happiness, a family, before you were ripped away; it would have been worse to let you grow in there.”
Yelena was quiet as she digested the information she had been given. Melina took a final sip of her tea before standing up. “I never wanted you to go back, Lenochka, or your sister. Please believe this, if you believe nothing else.” she speaks quietly, dumping her tea out in the sink. “I will see you in the morning, yes?”
Melina was startled by a hand grabbing her own as she passed the table. She stopped, looking down in mild surprise at Yelena, whose eyes showed unshed tears.
“I love you too, mama.”
The son went to his mother.
he picked her up and rocked her
back and forth, back and forth,
back and forth.
Last time she had been there was for Novy God, the house full of joy, freed widows who had wanted to stay around. Now Natasha stared at the photographs on the mantle, the only things she had left of the family she had yearned for for so long.
The house was now silent. There were no sounds of Melina in the kitchen cooking, telling Alexei to stop eating all the food, just like the pigs . Yelena wasn’t in her room, complaining out one of the outfits she had gotten at the charity shop getting a hole from the pigs, or telling some exaggerated story about a widow she had saved just like Alexei would. No Alexei asking for stories about Captain America, telling stories that were so obscene they obviously couldn’t be true despite how much he insisted they were.
Outside the pigs squealed as one of the widows who didn't disappear worked with them. Thankfully it was one who Melina had trained. The pigs were still distraught watching their owner disappear without a trace.
When Natasha had found out that her parents were part of the fifty percent… to say it was a gut punch wouldn’t have been the right phrase. It felt as though someone had stabbed her, twisted the knife to turn her organs into soup.
“Mama, papa,” she whispered, picking up the framed photo on the mantle, “I'm so sorry I failed you.” The picture was from their wedding only a year before. A real wedding for a real marriage full of real love. It had been real for all of them, in the end. Even if at the beginning they were only pretending. Melina had been right, the best lies were born from the truth.
Natasha placed the photograph in her bag, then made her way over to the bookshelf. Most of Melina’s books were nonfiction, science textbooks in Russian, English, German. Ones that were so rare most people didn’t know they existed, some that were published specifically for University students at the top schools in the world. Philosophy textbooks were mixed in, books about the humanities, psychology. Natasha had never been sure how her mother had gotten these under Dreykov’s rule.
Sometimes she wondered if her mother should have been kept away from science in the first place. Yet, without science, her mother wouldn’t have been with them that day. Wouldn’t have lived as long as she did.
She should have lived longer.
A pale blue book caught her eye. The colour bright against the muted earth tones of the rest of the books. Natasha paused for a moment, unsure if it was real, then slowly pulled the book from its spot wedged on the shelf. Her fingers traced over the glossy cover, then flipped it open. In the top corner of the inside title page was her mothers neat cursive, always a mystery to her and her sister.
To Helena and Natasha
We will love you forever.
Love,
Mommy and Daddy
Christmas 1992
She put her head in her hands and sobbed.
Then he went into the room
where his very new baby daughter
was sleeping. He picked her up in
his arms and very slowly rocked
her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
Alexei pulled weeds out of the ground, placing them in the compost bag that Melina had insisted they bring. The stone had been cleared of any dead leaves from the autumn, which Alexei was sure Yelena had done the last time she visited her sister. It was uncommon for their trips to meet up. He and Melina come out once a month, Yelena coming out whenever she could on jobs or between jobs for that Valentina woman. Melina hated the woman, for reasons she refused to explain.
He did too, though, as the missions kept their daughter away and off the grid for months at a time. They were getting used to being in the dark, used to wondering if their only surviving daughter was still alive or laying dead in a ditch without anyone. Children were never meant to stay with their parents, but he would have hoped she would have stayed to help them in their old age.
Not that they were old.
Melina kneeled beside him, carefully arranging the presents that had been left for Natasha. Despite the headstone not being with Tony Stark, not being in any of the cemeteries where famous heroes were placed, it was where she needed to be.
A beautiful tree would grow there, a metaphor for life no longer on earth. Trees could withstand a lot, and Alexei knew that Natasha had withstood more things than most people. More than he had certainly ever had to face.
He cursed the alien that had done this to his family again and again. He cursed that alien when he went to bed and when he woke up. Cursed him despite knowing that it would do nothing to bring his daughter back.
Melina moved cards into a bag, cards that people wrote as tribute to their daughter. They never read them, feeling as though it was an invasion into people’s lives that they were not invited into. Those letters were private moments of people telling Natasha their stories, how meaningful she had been in their lives, how she had saved their lives without them ever having been near her.
It touched them both to see how much Natasha had been loved by the world. She wasn’t just some Avenger, some expendable agent who could be easily replaced. She was a person who had been through so much, who could teach the world so much.
Natasha had only wanted the best for the world, to give it what she never had.
“We brought you something.” Melina whispered from beside him, reaching a hand out to place a hand on the stone. Alexei placed his own hand on her back, thumb rubbing soothing circles as she placed a blue book down on the grave. It was encased in glass to keep it from getting damaged by the rain, by the people that came by to honour their daughter.
Silently, Alexei wondered if Yelena would take it with her next time she visited. A present from her sister. “I thought it was a good reminder of how much we love you, baby.”
Alexei pulled Melina into him so she could let her silent tears fall in the privacy of his shoulder. The little red haired boy sat on the front of the book, looking up at them with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“We love you baby, forever and always.”
And while he rocked her he sang,
I’ll love you forever,
I’ll like you for always,
As long as I’m living
My baby you’ll be .