Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Drift: a neurological bridge between two individuals that allows them to share thoughts, memories, and reflexes. Originally discovered in the late 1980s by Red Room{this item was redacted] scientists then later brought under the World Council Organization for use of piloting the colossal sized machines, hereto known as ‘Jaegers’. This is necessary as the neural load required to pilot a Jaeger is more than a single brain can achieve on its own.

• Leaked WCO Documents (obtained from an anonymous source, sent to People's Daily.)

The Shatterdome is as big and clunky looking on the inside as it is on the outside, just as she remembers it. She spares the exterior one long look before going in, taking in the grey and brown protective plating that juts into the sky. She's technically early. She can still decide she has something better to do (she doesn't), and somewhere better to be (arguably, still no but she could make a case for being in her tiny apartment).

The first and only letter she’s ever received arrived just a few days ago. She's not given her new address or new phone number out to anyone, so someone must have gone to a lot of trouble to send it to her. Within, the notice stated she has an urgent meeting she simply can't miss. She could have ignored it, gone about enjoying her retirement. Yet something in her gut sank at the message, nearly a plea. So, she packed a small amount of possessions she couldn't go without should she be stuck in this god forsaken place for an undetermined period of time, and decided she could at least hear what they had to say.

Now here, she slips into the foyer, and even though the giant metal door is very, very loud she doesn't have to worry about being immediately accosted. The foyer is empty.

She breathes a sigh of relief, but that's when she spots a camera mounted in the corner. She hikes the bag up her shoulder and gives it a jaunty wave. Surely whoever is supposed to be watching will notice her and alert someone.

For now she takes in the new decor — glass tanks of varying size and shape line the walls.

She is willing to bet the room has each of the alien subspecies of Wiwaxias on display — (Drones, Razvedchiks, and Kaijus), she's sure the largest display she can see must be a Kaiju, perhaps one of the earliest ones, before they started being too big for a person to fight.

Her hand presses against cool glass. Through the opaque fluid she can see a Razvedchik larva (Russian for, roughly, “Scout”, as these tend to crop up first in the months leading up to an attack). Is it asleep? Dead? She isn't too concerned to know. The thing isn't even big . Roughly the size of her leg, and she is short. If it were allowed to grow, she knows the thing would become the size of a car.

Her eyes drift to the label:

Specimen A120503-Quad3-Larval_S2
“Razvedchik”

“Can you believe that's the smallest?” A relatively friendly voice says over her shoulder.

She could see in the glass reflection a flash of dark brown hair and round face.

She merely hums but doesn't turn around, she can see now that she focuses a series of clear tubes carefully placed into various parts of the creature’s body.

“The biggest—”

“The size of the Empire State Building, yes.” She says, repeating the impressive fact she's heard hundreds of times now.

“Of course, I should've expected a Bla—”

“Isn't the meeting not for another thirty minutes?” She asks, finally looking over her shoulder to take in the woman behind her.

The woman gives a smile, and now that she's no longer just a vague reflection in the glass, Yelena can see she's somewhere between an 8th cup of coffee and passing out.  She's tall, her hair swept into an updo that’s got flyaways sticking out, and a clipboard is held at her side. No name tag, nothing to indicate who this woman is. “You've been requested to meet sooner, Director Fury asked me to find you.”

“And cut short my beautiful tour?” She asks sarcastically, gesturing to the rest of the specimens she's yet to even see. There is a thing of spikes and swooping plates that she has only seen from the cockpit of a Jaeger, and the passing fancy to go look at it, small though it is, is still greater than the desire to meet anyone earlier than she has to.

The woman opens her mouth, but the frown on her face makes her look confused. Perhaps her delivery had been too dry, given the woman's reaction.

“Fine, fine.” She waves a hand, suitably annoyed now that they've sent this… whoever, bland and boring assistant of an assistant or whatever.

She holds a hand out and gestures for the woman to lead the way.

The woman plasters on a somewhat awkward smile and hops forward before going at a brisk pace.

The halls they take to the Director are winding, almost all of the floors are made of a metal mesh that clangs loudly with every step, and the metal, rounded halls create an echo chamber of the worst kind. She knows there are much more put together places in the Shatterdome that look less like a repurposed sewer, so she wonders what she's done to earn the special treatment.

The people they pass are also moving quickly, noses buried in papers or tablets, or eyes fixed way ahead, not sparing glances to anyone else as they go. It's all very utilitarian.

They stop in front of one door that's indistinguishable from the others. Dirty and pock-marked plywood with a label that reads ‘supplies’. How… surreptitious.

The woman gives a quick two taps to the door before pushing the door open.

Inside is Director Fury. He's aged so much since she saw him last, just a short two years ago, there are new whites in his goatee and the bags under his eye seem like a permanent fixture; but his good eye is sharp and his stare is as unfriendly as it ever was.

He's sitting on an overturned bucket, a tablet in his hands, lighting his face in a dim blue color. “Belova.” He says, pointing to another bucket. “Welcome to my office.”

She casts her eyes around as she sits. It looks like one of the many rooms where they house spare parts. She can see bins full of things, some are smaller than her fingertips, some are as long as her forearm. “Director. Why are we meeting here?”

“If you go to my real office right now, you'll see a lawyer, someone from human resources, the person who you'd be reporting to, even my lovely assistant.” He leans against the wall, and rests the tablet face down on his lap.

“That's a lot of people.” Yelena says.

“Knowing you, you'll see right through the bullshit and walk out before anyone gets in a word.” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I'm hoping I can talk to you one-on-one and convince you to leave your retirement.”

“And why would that meeting have bullshit?” She asks, head tilting to the side. She rests an ankle on her knee.

He chuckles. “Please. You know how these things go. And at the end of the day we need a pilot for Dark Talon and you're the only one I know who can do it.”

Yelena just sighs. She does know how it would go. They'd try buttering her up and talking her into it sweetly. When that doesn't work (because it wouldn't) they'd hit her with the fact that her retirement was technically just a breach of contract and then she'd be screwed out of negotiating any sort of anything for herself. “Fine. What're the terms?”

“Five years. You get to set you and your co-pilot’s schedule and we'll pay you double.” He says, leaning back, his eye assessing. Doubling the pay is nothing, her current pay is that of a trainer, good Jaeger Pilots already make double her salary, so it's a very poor attempt to make the offer sound better than it is. Her lip curls in amusement.

“Schedule control includes patrol routes and times?” She asks, hoping he just didn't mean the training schedule.

He nods once.

“Two years.” She shoots back.

“Three.” He replies. “And I'll let you pick your team’s handler.”

“Deal.” She holds out her hand and they shake on it. This would, effectively, give her control over every aspect of the job for the next three years.

“Great. Sign this then. It's an amendment to your contract that states all that.” He clicks some buttons on the tablet, scrolls through and makes some adjustments, then passes it to her.

She skims the document, looking for anything overtly wrong (no special hidden ‘we get to keep you for life if…’ clauses). In it she finds that once the contract ends she’s considered officially retired. Good. She reaches the bottom and is satisfied she finds nothing wrong. With a flourish of her wrist she once again signs her life away to the World Council Organization’s Jaeger Program.

He gets up. “Well, did you want to break the bad news, or shall I?”

“You can do it. You love pissing off Legal.” She stands up and watches him leave with a small smirk on his face.

“Welcome back to A-Squad, Ranger Belova. Marian here will give you your details.” He calls over his shoulder. And she remembers a day fourteen years ago when hearing something similar made her glad.

Now? She just hopes she can come away from this with something for once. It's been too long since she drifted, and she misses her sister.

She exits the supply closet to see the woman from before. She fixed Yelena with another smile, this one looking much more relieved.

“Ranger Belova.” She says, holding out the clipboard she's had tucked into her side this whole time.

“Don't bother with that crap, call me Yelena.” She says, tamping down the sharp annoyance at being called her rank. She flips through the first couple of papers. Bunk assignment. Potential co-pilot candidates. A-Squad’s current roster (much the same but missing just a couple of teams with no one new currently added). Finally a detailed report from astronomers indicating movement in space.

She looks up at Marian. “Do I need to dismiss you or something?”

Marian clears her throat. “I— would you like to, ma’a— Yelena?”

“Yes. I'm sure you've got your own shit to deal with it. I don't need a babysitter, I know where my room is and I promise not to get lost.” Yelena says, flipping the papers closed.

“Alright, I'll be in my office, which is by the elevators on level 2, I am the assistant for A-Squad teams, so please reach out if you need anything.” Marian tells her, then turns and briskly walks away.

She watches her leave and then starts to head toward her room. She sighs and looks at the papers in more detail. It had classification levels of the highest mark. Probably not even the sort of thing that 90% of people in the Shatterdome knew about, she couldn't even be sure Marian knows, despite her being the one to carry it around.

The Wiwaxians that have been landing on the planet and ravaging it for more than fifteen years have gone through another dormant period. This one nicely lasted two years. Two years, no attacks, two years for Earth to resupply and recruit new people and train them up. It seems in the two years that this was happening, the Wiwaxians were also busy. They come from a void in space, another dimension whose entrance is called the Breach. It's just inside the asteroid belt in the solar system, closely monitored by astronomers all over the Earth. Well, the report indicates that the Breach spat out a Category 3 Kaiju class Wiwaxian. No warming up with Drones and Razvedchiks for months on end, no sending smaller category Kaijus. Straight to Category 3 and it's projected to get here in two months.

Notes from experts state that there is only a “0.14%” chance that Drones and Razvedchiks aren't already on their way, but they have not yet been picked up by telescopes or satellites.

She flips the pages back. This would explain why he was so desperate to have Dark Talon back, and with someone who knew how to pilot it.

She gets to her room, and it's just like any other room she's had in her tenure at the Jaeger program. The familiarity tugs at her chest, Natasha’s voice echoes from the past ‘think they put the roaches in before or after they put in the walls?’ . She lays the bag she brought with her on the floor by the bed. There's a busy couple of months ahead of her and whoever her new co-pilot will be. She decides she’ll have to get started right away. She pulls out the short list of people, just names on a page. Beneath it is a file.

There’s just ten candidates in total. She flips open the file and inside is a short dossier on each person. She goes through them, letting her eyes sweep over their picture before moving to the words that whoever put this together decided she would care most about. The top candidate reads:

• Name: Johnathan F. Walker
• Age: 35
• Place of Birth: blah blah blah, who cares?
• Biography: She skims the next part, taking in the words dedicated ‘US Military Service’, super soldier, wife and child.
• Recruitment statement: This had exactly what she expected from a career military man, full of words like ‘duty’, ‘serving’, and ‘fighting’.

So, she thought, he might be a bit of a square, as most military types could be. But, even if he wasn't, there were still nine other viable candidates.

But, she'll start with him.

She drops the clipboard onto the desk after locating Walker’s schedule for the day. No time like the present.

Right now his group has split up and joined another one to do some sparring — it's good to stay in shape, of course, but also it's a good way to see if there’s any drift compatibility with anybody. She'll just drop by and introduce herself.

She finds them still warming up in the Piper Training Room. They're all wearing the blue-gray recruit uniforms, and it clashes horribly with the ruddy brown walls. 

The instructor catches sight of her — and she recognizes him, though his name escapes her, from before she retired. He gives a broad grin, tells the group to do a lap, and jogs over to her.

“Belova.” He says when he gets close enough, his closely shaved head shows some grays coming up the sides, just as she remembers him.

“Middleton!” She says, suddenly remembering his name. His smile, somehow, grows broader.

“I heard they pulled you from retirement. Kind of crazy! There must be something big coming?” He says as they shake hands.

“Oh, you know I can't say anything about that.” Yelena says, her eyes following the pack of recruits. One man has pulled ahead early, and she's willing to bet it's the super soldier.

“That's basically a yes.” Middleton says. “Who’re you here for?”

“Mind if I join your training today?” She says instead.

His eyebrows shoot up, making deep lines appear on his forehead. “Knock yourself out.”

“Great, great. I'll catch up with you later.” She joins the group as they run by.

It's obvious the two groups here today are physically extraordinary. The pace they set would be brutal to a regular person. It's always been a bit awkward to place a Widow. Mildly enhanced, years of training, it definitely places them above regular people. But people like this with super powers of some kind? It could turn into a real challenge. Luckily the extremely powerful superheroes don't need Jaegers to fight Wiwaxians. So among this group must be the ones who can only punch things really good, no flying or lasers or whatever.

Middleton blows a whistle and the group converges on the center. Yelena now sees these people must also all be former military. Nearly uniform haircuts all around, posture and rigidity in their forms as they move onto the next thing: sparring partners.

And Middleton is no dummy either, he pairs Yelena with Walker immediately, having gleaned that he must be the one she's here for.

They lock eyes and Yelena knows a killer when she sees one. His eyes have that cold and sharp quality. She wonders if he sees the same in her.

“Fists?” Walker inquires, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders.

“Sounds good.” She says.

He doesn't hold back, rushing in at lightning speed. Yelena dodges, heart kicking up a few paces as she kicks at him.

Her foot meets his ribs, and she can see why he didn't bother blocking or dodging, it's like hitting a block of cement.

This leaves her open for his next attack, but she sees it coming because he's confident in his trap.

She bends away, much quicker than a regular person is able to, using momentum to turn it into a back spring. She lands back on her feet just in time to register he's at once both surprised and gives a single upturned lip in excitement.

But he's staying on the aggression, following her distance by taking a swipe at her legs. She jumps over it, places a hand under his neck and vaults over him. She puts a hand under his chin as she goes and as soon as her feet plant she drags him over her in a throw.

His body is heavy but to keep from spraining his neck (or perhaps dislocating something) he helps her by going into the throw, his own hand coming up to grip her wrist as he does.

As soon as his feet hit the ground he throws her in return, and for a moment her body flies through the air before she sticks a hand out and rights herself, feet digging into the mats beneath her.

He runs at her, hands clamped together in an overhead smash. He's relentless and she can respect it. But now she decides to play a little dirty to see how he responds. Most military types hate it and she can use the ensuing anger to get him into making a mistake.

She rolls away, and as she does she throws a quick side-palm chop at his throat. The strength behind the hit would hospitalize a regular person. On Walker his breath chokes, he grunts, and backs away to catch his breath, but otherwise he's okay.

The look he gives her is reassessing as they both circle each other. He doesn't look angry, he looks amused. Interesting , Walker isn't afraid of someone fighting dirty. But, now to see how he responds.

She throws him a grin and waves him on, daring him to continue his aggressive attacks. This bout had been quick, lasting maybe a few seconds, but the amount of exertion she had to do to achieve this was more than she was used to. A quick internal calculation tells her the two of them can continue at this rate, matching blow for blow, for about seven minutes before she'll have to end it — any longer and he would win from sheer enhancement alone.

He charges again, but he’s playing it deceptively defensive — arms close to his core as he goes, head lowered slightly to prevent his (likely still sore) neck from being hit.

She goes in for a leg sweep and he vaults over her, spinning quickly to hit at the back of her head. She rolls away, and aims a kick up to his chin.

He grabs her ankle and pulls her forward, ruining her balance. His other fist comes into her side, which she barely manages to block with her arm.

It's still a strong blow, no doubt a bruise will bloom and linger against her forearm. The force alone is enough to topple her, but he maintains grip of her ankle, preventing her from going into a roll.

She kicks up with her other foot, her weight now forward, he switches stances to keep himself upright, but it's a mistake, her foot plants itself on his cheek with a thud.

She yanks her other foot loose from his grasp and pushes herself away, using his face as a springboard. He grunts and falls back, catching himself with his hand before his position becomes vulnerable.

She lands on her feet and turns, they begin circling each other again.

The next bout is much the same, him leveraging his super soldier build to try and pin her down, and her using her Black Widow moves to escape. The blows they exchange are matched.

As they pull away for a third time, him rubbing his cheek from another kick she got in on his face, and her massaging her wrist that he sprained when he pulled her off balance, they reassess.

For Yelena, she thinks if they continue then the chances of greater injury increase, and the point of this isn't to best one another, it's to see how well they read each other and react. The three bouts tell her enough, they are at least compatible enough to try drifting. It's a bit rough, more than she's used to, but she can concede some of that is from her too. In her eyes he’s a bit too much of a military man, but he hadn't found the dirty fighting she used to be anything but amusing. And that thought alone is promising.

She can see he's probably thinking the same, leaving a combat stance to approach her. His hand extends and she shakes it. “John Walker.”

“Yelena Belova.” She says. The handshake is strong. 

“That was pretty good.” He says, looking her up and down.

“It was. I'm thinking we try drifting next?” She offers, letting go first.

He nods. “Let's do it. Tomorrow, early am?”

“Yes. I will schedule it.” She tells him, now as a second test. His military rank was captain, how would he deal with someone else taking charge?

He nods, it not seeming like anything worth reacting to for him, which is another good sign. They break away and Yelena is… excited, tentatively. She hasn't drifted with a new person in a long time. It's not something one gets rusty at since it's their own brain space and all. But it's the sharing with a stranger that she just isn't sure about.

With a breath, she turns to leave — passing Middleton with a nod, she heads to one of the drift training rooms to schedule time for her and John Walker tomorrow.

He'd been handpicked by someone who thought they would be a good match. It was time to see how far off base this assessment was. So far it was promising, but everything changes once the thoughts are laid bare.

Drift Compatibility: the potential two individuals share. As pilots drift together their brains undergo a conversation where they learn each other’s mental vocabulary. The more compatible a team is, the easier the drift is to maintain. The viability is first tested by the potential teams performing an action together that requires coordination. This can be sparring, team building, and competition. To be drift compatible is to make psychological connections and concessions for both parties. Between two strangers it is a leap of faith. 

• Head WCO Scientist in an interview with NYC Nightly News.

She stands in front of the machine. So familiar, even with the updated interface and everything.

The spinal clamps in her Drivesuit connects to the cockpit from the arms overhead, and a voice in her ear gives a countdown for when to expect the machine to finish connecting.

Once it's done a familiar buzzing crawls up her spine and fills her head. Her teeth clench through it and she forces her jaw to relax.

As soon as her hitching breath gets back under control does the buzzing and tingling retreat to the background. She makes a mental note to meet with engineers after this, her suit needs recalibrated.

“Connectivity Achieved.” A robotic voice announces to the room.

Now came the harder part: drifting. The voice in her ear announces the neural handshake is ready.

Her partner shoots her a glance and together they initiate the drift. His beard is puffed out in what she can only imagine is the man clenching his jaw. Once they reach 50% connection, the mental impressions begin.

They're just vague things. Surface level emotions, a stray thought that doesn't belong to her.

She gets a sudden wave of apprehension. John is not prepared for the handshake. His nerves spike, a familiar needling sensation that crawls up her spine. He is panicking.

She takes a deep breath, calming herself, letting the emotion wash over her. If she can be calm then she can transmit this to him.

After a moment the spike decreases and the voice announces they've reached 75% sync status. The first handshake always takes the longest, which she'd forgotten.

‘You've drifted before?’ his thought is laced with surprise.

She affirms it and this calms him even more. It was his first time.

Once they hit the 80s in terms of sync status, the memories begin to flow. If they can get through this part next they'll be able to see just how drift compatible they are. She knows this is where the handshake is usually lost. First time drifters become overwhelmed, and that would be annoying because they'll have to start over. Or, the truly incompatible pairs simply can't move forward together and the handshake is lost.

She blinks and she is standing on a stage, looking up at her ( his ) commander, a medal being placed on his chest. Her chest is swelling with pride.

“Good job, lieutenant.” The commander says, giving him a firm handshake then a salute.

She blinks again and the memory is morphing into another, she can already feel the fear — John’s own fear and apprehension dredging this next memory to the surface — he's pinned down in a gunfight, a bullet whizzes by close enough that she can hear it go. He'd just lifted his head to get a look, but she ducks down now, breathing heavily. She reloads her magazine and her mouth is dry —

With a horrible wrenching feeling from John about what comes next, she conjures up a different memory, and together they can see her first time moving a Jaeger with Natasha. It's a thrilling and exciting moment. The memory shimmers and struggles to take root, John resisting the sensation of sharing that the handshake gives.

She walks through the memory, letting herself be stubborn to push through instead of letting John’s trepidation bring things to a halt. Her and Natasha step in sync, the world a small and distant thing.

She lets the feeling of awe flood her, and the strong emotion takes root. This lets the next memory flow, and she is a child, looking at the first specimen of Wiwaxians she’s ever looked at. Its chitinous body is a tangled mess.

A strong feeling of disgust comes from John and it's strong enough to soil the handshake. He leans over and pukes, their sync rate halting at 87%. Technically a successful handshake is considered 89% and above, so this was close enough to warrant trying again if they wanted. Personally, she's ready to call it on him.

The whole machine is powered down and John continues to barf up his breakfast. “What the fuck ,” he manages to say.

“It's one of the space bugs. Surely you've seen those.” She says, remembering the exhibit of them at the entrance of the shatterdome. At the very least he saw those when he walked in the building.

“The smell , how can you—” His face screws up again and he gags. The space bugs didn't smell great, but she remembers that this combined with the chemical smell that always lingered in the Red Room labs could be quite potent.

“I think we're good, Johnny.” She says, patting his back.

“Yeah, yeah. We're good.” He says, unclipping the suit from his body.

Yelena starts to do the same, at once pleased that they can agree on this, but also annoyed that she's back to square one.

At least she can begin with the next candidate as soon as possible. Already she's planning to disregard the files and start doing her own digging in the computer.

She spends the rest of the afternoon letting the engineers readjust her suit — as she should've done before connecting with John Walker. By the time they're done the buzzing sensation at the connection of the spinal clamps returns to being barely noticeable.

It's dinner next, which turns out to be… not ideal. The food hall is crowded, everyone sitting shoulder to shoulder, some standing around and eating. Yelena opts to just snag a sandwich and eat it in her room.

The evening announcements are all she has to be around for, which is an hour away. She gets about halfway to her room when she decides instead to wander the halls.

Eventually she winds up standing in the entrance of the Jaeger storage. She can see the crews on elevated platforms performing work on some of them. They are so familiar to her it makes something within her ache at the sight. They're so tall that the crews near the top look like little more than ants scurrying around.

Natasha had called the original A-Squad Jaegers “The Battered Bitches” and she can see that the title still holds true.

One of them is undergoing a chest plate exchange; even in her retirement she heard rumors that Wakanda donated a large batch of Vibranium to the Jaeger Program, and she's sure this one is getting a much needed upgrade. Underneath the chest piece are scars from past fights — punctures and scratches so deep and wide a motorcycle could drive in it. But the damage was obviously considered cosmetic and so was never patched up, and it became another trophy that the Jaeger and the team had lived to fight another day.

Watching the crews make their repairs was a meditative way to pass the hour. It lets her cleanse John Walker from her brain. It also gives her time to review the list of handlers with openings so she can find a nice, unassuming person that won't try and be too commanding with her and the team.

She makes her way down to the floor level where people gather to overhear the evening announcements.

Here one of the Commanders takes the platform and begins to talk.

The Doomsday Clock is officially being set, and once that sentence finishes the gathered crowd begins murmuring.

The Commander continues without pause, merely raising his voice to be heard over the din. He states that searches for teams are still on, as there are dozens of Jaegers that still need pilots, and many more being built (that won't be ready before the first attack hits). But what follows is that, despite it being known there are openings on A-Squad, the teams to come will be relegated to B, C, or D Squad.

The sound of people grows louder as more people join in, some of them sounding angry or frustrated. She can hear all sorts of things from the ones around her. “This isn't right!” and “I belong on that squad!” being chief among them. Clearly someone thought that wasn't the case if they weren't included on her little list.

The outline of the plan is given next — A-Squad taking point with B-Squad being direct backup, and the other two squads performing containment measures.

They're underselling the size of the attack, the sort of plan would have been acceptable for a Category 1, even a Category 2. But Category 3 Kaijus have, historically, barely been taken down by A-Squad when they were a full team. And if there will be Drones and Razvedchiks like the Astronomers predict then they'll need more than B-Squad for back up. What is Fury thinking? She comes just shy of shaking her head, and merely gives a huff of annoyance instead. She wouldn't care if she wasn't slated to be part of the fight, and as it stands this means the pressure is on for her and her potential co-pilot — to make up where the A-Squad lacks.

The hairs on her neck prickle and she looks to her right and sees a brunette woman staring at her.

At being caught, instead of looking away or pretending she wasn't staring, she gives Yelena a grin and slides up closer.

“This sucks, right?” The brunette woman says, as the Commander continues his announcement (now onto less important things — new meal schedules with the new batch of recruits coming now there's not enough room in the cafeteria for everyone to go at once).

“Mm.” She says, “It sure does.”

The woman is taller, not even needing to try and peer through the gaps in bodies to see the front like she does. She recognizes her as one of the candidates from her file. She searches her memory for the name. Kate Bishop .

The woman looks at her, eyes bright, and she keeps talking before Yelena can try and remember what she saw when she glanced through her file. “We’ll show them we're more than B-Squad material, right?”

Yelena can't help but chuckle. It would take a miracle to change anyone’s mind at this point. With the Doomsday Clock being updated all the high ranking officers’ focus will be on the upcoming attack.

Kate shot her another glance, this time it was more or less assessing. “You don't think we'll be able to.”

“No.” She says simply. Instead of seeming defeated, or even just letting it go, the woman sets her jaw, stands up straighter, looking ready to argue even though the Commander is still going.

Throughout the rest of the announcement she can see Kate continuing to shoot her glances and she can't help but feel amused. The woman is certainly determined.

The announcements finish and the crowd begins dispersing. But instead of trying to slip away as she might otherwise do, she decides to let the woman go off. She's not sure what she'll say, something about fairness, perhaps, or about how hard she's trained or maybe she'll get angry and say obscenities about the people in charge. If it were Yelena she may think all of these things, (and she knows enough about herself at this point to know she would even enjoy doing this); and so she has to think a potential drift compatible partner may think the same way.

Kate looks a little surprised, her eyes widen slightly, that Yelena has now moved in front of her with an expectant brow raised.

Kate does something unexpected: she grins. “I knew you'd want in on my plan to get on A-Squad.” She says.

Yelena lifts both hands in a ‘go on’ gesture. So far this is completely off track from her expectations.

Kate points at her, but it's a gesture and not an accusation, her other hand goes to her hip. “You picked right! Because I've got three steps to get into the A-Squad and I need another person.”

“ Three steps? Now this I must hear.” Yelena says, crossing her arms, feeling amused and… something else .

“So, obviously we gotta get high combat scores. But that's easy! Everyone here has high scores, they wouldn't be recruited to the program if they didn't. Boom! Step one done.” Kate says, holding a fist out, palm face down and opens her fingers when she says ‘Boom’.

Yelena doesn't know what the gesture means, but Kate looks pleased with herself. Yelena gives a somewhat amiable shrug. “We're off to a good start then.”

“Right? So, step two: I heard that someone’s recruiting co-pilots for an older Jaeger to be used on A-Squad. All we have to do is sneak us into the short list of candidates.” Kate says, and for this she’s leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Yelena frowns, finding herself stepping closer, just so the next part isn't overheard. “And you can get into the Jaeger Pilot listing database?”

Kate looks around, completely obviously (and thank God the room has almost cleared out by this point because it's so suspicious), before she leans back in and nods. “Uh-huh! But I would never give away trade secrets, so I'll just say that there's a way to do it.”

“Okay, and then?” Yelena asks, hardly knowing how this will turn out for both of them.

“Well, we'll be tested for drift compatibility next, but c’mon. We're already in cahoots together, that's gotta be a good sign.” Kate says, her hand gesturing between the two of them.

Yelena finds herself laughing, feeling incredulous, not just at this woman but at herself for finding she wants to do it. “Alright, why not? When do we do this?”

“Tonight!” Kate says excitedly. “Meet me at the lobby at 9pm, sharp.”

Yelena grins and throws her a two finger salute. “See you then!”

She watches Kate walk off at a brisk pace. There's so many things she ought to do. Like warn Fury about another information leak, or tell someone about this half-cocked plan that involves being able to break into their databases. But she wants to see where this goes, so why bother doing any of that? 

Besides that there is that little feeling. A tinge of excitement and something she can't name because she's never felt it before. It reminds her of the moment following jumping off a building with her tether. Eyes closed, heart racing — and before she’s caught and anchored and reassured of her safety there is the half second of flying, of being pulled to the Earth. It feels similar enough here, captured and crystallized in that moment with Kate Bishop. Which begs the next question — will she experience it again?

Chapter Text

Drift Sync: this shows how successful the team is in drifting which is measured in percentages. A successful drift is classified as starting at 89%. Only those in the Black Widow Program{this item was redacted] achieved 100% Drift Sync status. It has never been achieved again outside this program and scientists recommend sync rates no higher than 98%. The most successful teams achieve a 93% - 96% drift sync rate. The drift sync is considered stable when there are no longer any fluctuations (±0.25%) for 60 seconds.

• Leaked WCO Documents (obtained from Twitter, user has since deactivated.)

At 20:45 she arrives at the lobby. The place is empty, the lights set to low, and the display tanks backlit with a warm, yellow light. It should make them look creepy, but she finds herself staring at a larval “Drone” subspecies Wiwaxian, taking in the big, fly-like eyes this one has. It reminds her of hauling in her first one to the Red Room, staring in awe at its twitching body on the flatbed truck. Okay, it is a little bit creepy, actually. Especially because, alive or dead, the thing doesn't blink as there are no eyelids. The mandibles twitch and move, but that could be the slight flow of liquid in the tube. Yes, she's changed her mind. It's creepy.

“You're here!” Kate says behind her.

Yelena turns at the surprise in her tone, and sees it on her face. “Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

Kate grins and looks her up and down. “And you dressed for the occasion?”

She's referring to the dark outfit she's changed into, something not so out of place in the Shatterdome, but wouldn't stand out in the darker corridors the way the blue-gray recruit outfits do. Kate herself has changed into a dark purple shirt and black pants, looking… a little more conspicuous than Yelena, but still good for blending in.

“I did.” Yelena says, “And where are we going next?”

She's thought about it in the few hours she had between hearing this short plan and now, and she came up with five viable ways of sneaking into the database, and several more risky ones.

“Okay,” Kate says, pointing up. And Yelena knows already the elaborate duct work is separated from the halls by a drop ceiling. Strictly speaking this is horrible, and it must show on her face. “Trust me.” Kate continues. “We won't be there for long. I also tested it a couple days ago so I know it'll work.”

Yelena once again frowns as the pair set off walking together out of the lobby and down some corridors, “You snuck into the database a few days ago? Why not have done it then?”

“Yeah!” Kate says over her shoulder. “I had to stop because I was almost caught by Tendo. But this time you'll be here and you can be the lookout.”

“Hm. Sure, why not?” She says, not too worried about being caught herself, she is authorized to be in the databases. “I have a question though. Why pick me?”

Kate stops short, pulling them to hide in a room. She hears footfalls pass by, the voices of a couple people talking come and go. Yelena wonders if this was necessary since they're allowed to be out right now. If anything this seems more suspicious if they're caught in a dark room like this.

“Well,” Kate says, sticking her head out the doorway and looking both ways before turning to Yelena. “I saw how you reacted to Director Fury’s plan. I knew you didn't like it, so I took a risk! Also you didn't say anything to anyone. If you had, I wouldn't have met up with you.”

Yelena raises a brow, “And what makes you think I didn't?”

“I have my ways.” Kate says, giving her a somewhat smug grin.

“Alright. You're right, I didn't.” She says, barely suppressing an eye roll. Maybe she should've told on her to someone. But despite the obviously risky nature of everything, Kate’s playing it surprisingly safe: not introducing herself, not giving away details, and if she really did have an ‘in’ for information she was probably using it well to know Yelena hasn't spoken to anyone. She gestures Kate to continue leading her.

Together they go down some halls, and as they do Yelena realizes they're heading to the Jaeger Dark Talon’s control room.

“It's closed because they're reconstructing it and it's technically dangerous to go in here. But I promise we won't even get close to it.” Kate explains, stopping in a seemingly random place in the hall ten feet away from the door. She stands on the tips of her toes to reach the ceiling.

The door has a yellow ‘Keep Out’ sign posted on it, along with some warnings she can't read from here. No doubt saying something about the dangers of being in a room with the exposed nuclear reactor core that Dark Talon has. It should be fine, it's supposed to be stable and contained when not being worked on, or so she was told. Now a part of her briefly wonders if she was lied to by Fury. This would be a stupid way to die.

Kate finishes removing a panel from the ceiling, having pushed it up and in after loosening some bolts. “I'll boost you.” Kate says, widening her stance and cupping her hands for Yelena to stand on.

Yelena immediately thinks of two ways to enter the taller ceiling without Kate Bishop’s help. But, this is funnier if it doesn't work. She places a hand on Kate’s shoulder, her foot onto her cupped palms, and feels Kate pushing her up. She does little to assist until her shoulders are past the entrance, then she pulls herself in.

Kate doesn't even look winded, or red-faced, or like she exerted herself at all. Yelena knows she isn't some lightweight, but Kate looks like she just hauled up a box of tangerines. She feels faintly impressed and has a slight curiosity about Kate’s muscles under her clothes. She lowers her hand and Kate grabs hold.

She pulls Kate up, and it's not the most graceful thing, Kate is clearly not used to trying to get herself into small spaces like this, but it'll do.

Yelena replaces the panel. The light from below is now completely gone, and now they're in a pitch black crawlspace. She pulls out a flashlight at the same time Kate uses her phone screen to light up the place.

In the beam of the flashlight Kate looks pleased, she's fixing her with a triumphant grin. She finds, without thinking, that she's returning it.

“Let's go.” She says to Kate, who nods, awkwardly turns in the cramped space, and leads them down the rest of the way of the hall. She keeps a fair distance from Kate, even though the crawlspace is designed to withstand a working human, she thinks it would be supremely embarrassing to fall through the ceiling now.

After ten minutes of crawling, taking some turns, Yelena only slightly worried when Kate says “I think I took a wrong turn,” once, but Kate regains her confidence as they continue on. She tells Yelena, not worried at all and slightly dismissively, “It'll lead to somewhere anyway.”

Yelena has to wonder what has earned Kate this level of confidence. Espionage is clearly not her strong suit, she doesn't even seem to know that the Jaeger Pilot database is accessible by computers that are easier to get to. Yet she's so sure she can pull this off. More than that, Yelena thinks to herself, she actually is pulling it off.

She searches her memory for what she read on Kate’s file. She's younger, was it 23 or 24? Graduated with top scores from the Jaeger Pilot Academy. She remembers she had been impressed that the woman had, at the same time, earned a bachelor’s degree in college along with a list of extracurriculars the length of her arm. At the time she had merely thought a single, somewhat sneering thought: ‘Overachiever’. On paper Kate looks like a woman who has a lot of training but very little practical experience. In short, Kate had been presented with a short list of other remarkable people, and it seems to have done her a disservice.

Finally, after peeking through the sixth panel, Kate turns and gives her two thumbs up. She removes the panel completely and lowers herself to the floor. Yelena follows after her, ignoring Kate’s extended hand to help her down, instead dropping down herself and landing on her feet.

Kate looks mildly impressed, sending her one nod. Kate, now so close to her goal (and so easily caught), moves a lot quicker. She boots up the main computer. 

The first sign to Yelena that this will not go as planned is that the computer was already on, with Tendo Choi (J-Tech Chief Technician) already logged in.

Kate seems to think little of it, her fingers flying over the keyboard, bringing up the command prompt and typing in a string of code.

The second sign this won't go as planned is as Yelena begins snooping she finds two abandoned cups of coffee. She presses a finger to a mug. It's warm. She picks up the mug, sniffs it, (it's black, the other seems to be roughly 50% cream), then gives it a quick sip. It's actually a good drinkable temperature, so likely left within the last ten or fifteen minutes.

She goes back to Kate, her eyes are glued to the screen. She's got into the computer (so quickly, too), and she can see she's trying to find the roster for Dark Talon candidates.

“Oh!” Kate says, having pulled it up. “It's… it looks like they already chose one of the pilots.” She points to the screen, and Yelena sees her own name.

The list below her name is titled ‘Co-Pilot Candidates’. Kate perks up, clearly having found her own name. “I'm on there!” She says, excited. “I can still add you though. What's your name?”

“Oh, I'm already on there.” Yelena says, standing straighter. The third sign this won't go as planned is the distant hiss of a door opening followed by footsteps heading this way.

“Oh, awesome, who—hey!” Kate exclaims when Yelena reaches across and presses a few buttons that boots Kate out.

“Stand up.” She tells Kate, and Kate, seemingly hearing the footsteps now, not only does so, but she says a very quiet ‘fuck’.

Yelena darkens the screen and backs away.

The footsteps she heard approaching have stopped at the door, and she can hear muffled voices. The door slides open with Fury and Tendo both greeted by the sight of them standing around in the control room. Yelena casually leaning against one of the desks and Kate not very casually twisting her fingers together and shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Yelena gives Fury a smile. “Director!” She says, drawing his attention, “You know, I thought the black coffee might be yours. But you could surprise me, are you the one with five creams and three sweeteners?”

The Director looks annoyed. He walks into the room, his coat flaring dramatically behind him. He holds up a finger, pointing it at Yelena. “What're you doing here, Belova?”

“Oh, just some drift compatibility testing. I think it's gone well. You, Kate?” She looks at Kate, who’s looking at her with big eyes, then at the director, then back at her.

“Wait,” Kate says, mouth opening and closing, unsure of what to say first.

“This is not compatibility testing and you know it.” Fury says, eye narrowed and glancing between the two of them. He looks at Kate, likely thinking her a weak link he can get answers from.

Yelena rolls her eyes, stands up straight, and speaks before he can. “Okay, you're right. It's actually me showing Kate the command center. See, Kate?” She gestures broadly to the room.

Fury looks disbelieving, and Tendo looks like he's going to laugh. Fury gaze darts between the two of them, at the seemingly undisturbed room, and shakes his head. “Get out of here.”

“Okay, Director.” She throws an extremely crisp salute, clicking her heels together and her back goes ramrod straight. Fury's frown, somehow, deepens. She gives Kate’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “I'll submit time for me and Bishop in the Kwoon Training Room for tomorrow. C’mon, Kate Bishop. I'm sure they have some very boring numbers to go over for the next few hours.”

She brushes by the Director, nods to Tendo, and leaves the room. Behind her Kate jogs to catch up. “You're Yelena Belova?”

“Yes.” She says, stopping to hold out her hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you officially, Kate Bishop.”

Kate grabs it and gives her hand a couple quick, absentminded pumps before stopping and letting go. “So, okay, I didn't need to do any of that, considering you already knew who I was.”

“On the contrary, I knew your name . Not who you were. Now I have a pretty good idea.” Yelena says, turning and continuing to walk.

Kate scoffs. “This just seems… I don't know. Nevermind.”

Yelena halts misstep, swings her leg back, and turns abruptly. Kate almost walks into her and lets out a startled ‘Hey!’ that Yelena doesn't acknowledge. What she can see is that Kate’s lips are pressed thin. She's embarrassed; no, not just that, she’s worried. “I don't know about you, but I enjoyed myself.” Yelena says, not as much of an olive branch as it is a probe.

Kate’s eyes wander her face, takes in Yelena’s smile, and her face breaks out into a grin. “I did too. I just thought, for a minute there, I don't know, that you were going to tell me this was some elaborate thing to punk me.”

She takes in Kate’s relief, and thinks the worry may be more deep than she is letting on, betrayed by the way it lingered a little too long. It makes her wonder about Kate — did she have disingenuous people in her life, who may be careless with the things she wants, that this is her first instinctive reaction (both to the trick, and then to everything that followed)? And the way the relief smothered the worry away is a whole series of more questions: Was the relief a mask to make Yelena feel better? Why? If not, who was it for and what is it there to accomplish?

“Hm. That sounds like too much work.” She turns around and starts walking again. “No, I will say it was a little bit to see if your plan would even work, I had my doubts—”

“Thanks”

“—but you surprised me, Kate Bishop. In a good way. The sparring match tomorrow is mostly a formality, it won't tell me anything I don't already know.”

“And… you really think we're drift compatible?” Kate asks as she walks next to her, hope and earnestness making her eager.

“Could be. We won't know until we actually drift, yes?” Yelena says. “So tomorrow, are you an early riser?”

Kate's nodding, but her concentrated gaze is fixed elsewhere. “Yeah, I mean we all get up early, don't we?”

“Great. We will spar after breakfast. Sound good?” Yelena said, continuing to briskly walk toward her room.

“Sure, okay, yeah.” Kate seems to finish working through whatever she was thinking about, and has the excitement back with her. “I've got the top combat score in my group, so I won't be holding back.”

Yelena chuckles, stopping at the hall that leads to her room. “Good! I look forward to it.”

They part ways.

She goes to bed that night, excited at the prospect of kicking Kate’s ass. Or, maybe being surprised. Top combat ranks were impressive. If she bothered she could look up what, exactly, Kate scored in and how high those scores were. Truly needle her weak points. But she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It seemed to dampen the excitement.

As she rolls over, sleep taking her, she realizes this is because, in some way, she's more excited at the idea of Kate surprising her for a third time.

Chapter Text

Ghost Drifting: a phenomenon reported by teams who have drifted together over an extended time and/or multiple sessions, in which the neurological bridge remains intact after being disconnected from the Pons System. Teams have reported that the phenomenon has persisted for up to several weeks afterwards. Red Room{this item was redacted] scientists have studies that indicate even as the connection breaks down, the pilots retain a high degree of knowledge shared when drifting, especially with several repetitions of the same memory. There is a direct correlation between higher sync rates and retention of ghost drifting.

• Leaked WCO Documents (obtained from an anonymous source sent to NY Times).

The drift compatibility testing mostly relied on how well the co-pilots read each other, and the easiest way to test that was with physical compatibility. Yesterday Kate was right, one of the benchmarks for being recruited as a potential pilot is having a good combat score; while it saves the team time in learning how to fight, it doesn't mean everyone has physical compatibility with each other. 

Yesterday had been a fun venture and Yelena is sure that today will just cement in what she already knows. But nothing confirms physical compatibility like sparring, so she's excited to see this in action today.

Yelena enters the Kwoon Training Room right after breakfast. This room is made for one-on-ones, so it's much smaller. The wall holds sparring weapons of all kinds, all wooden and in pairs — for the Jaeger pilots who want to practice together. The AI projection is on, and will oversee their session.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Kate says, leaning casually against the weapons rack. She's dressed in loose white clothing, sleeveless tank and flowy pants, the sort that makes for easy and flexible movement.

She grins and knows this grin many have said they found unfriendly, even intimidating. But here Kate returns a grin of her own, something far nicer. “Kate Bishop!” She says, drawing out the name. “I believe I promised you an ass kicking today.”

Kate frowns and stands up straighter, clearly searching her memory and coming up blank.

Yelena smirks and asks rhetorically: “What? Was that just to myself?”

Instead of letting Yelena's comment deter her, she's delighted to see that Kate confidently smiles. She gestures to the weapons rack. “Well, Yelena Belova , go ahead and pick your weapon then.”

Yelena picks her favorite weapon, dual batons. She's pleased to see Kate pick a Do sword instead of matching her weapon choice. Most people matched weapon choices, it was considered auspicious to help prove drift compatibility, so what does it mean for them that Kate doesn't? She's not sure, but she's excited to see if this has any effect on things.

Kate grips her Do sword familiarly, experimentally swinging it through the air to get a feel for the weight. The sparring weapons are wooden, hollow, and light — only able to bruise if swung hard enough. The sleeveless nature of Kate’s shirt allows her to see more fully the extent of Kate’s muscles, the way they flex and shift beneath smooth skin effortlessly.

Kate’s bright eyes take a mischievous glint as she catches Yelena’s obvious staring. “See something you like?” She asks with a smug grin, and Yelena can see her flexing her arms by the way her biceps bulge not so subtly.

“Hm. You're sufficient.” Yelena says, keeping her tone very dry.

Kate’s face flushes (which is interesting to note), her gaze flitting from Yelena’s eyes to her smirking lips and back. 

She's pleased they can have this back and forth, instead of just jumping right in all serious. Another point in favor of drift compatibility, she absolutely wouldn't stand for someone boring and dull, who can't have a little fun.

They meet in the middle to shake hands and as soon as they do Yelena can tell it's going to be as fun as everything else with Kate has been. There's a light to Kate’s eyes, taking in Yelena’s form even as they just shake hands, she can see the way she’s adding up the details in Yelena’s nonchalant stance, batons gripped rather loosely— all of it could appear to someone that she's non-threatening. But Kate’s eyes go to her feet that are shoulder width apart and to tension held in her thighs (lingering there a second too long) at the way she's poised to strike even now — that gives away the gambit.

And Yelena does the same as they separate and circle each other. Kate’s confident, of course, but there's none of the rigidity to her spine that she's used to seeing from other academy recruits. She's calm, but the tenseness is in her legs and arms, it shows she's thrumming with energy and coiled to move at the right time.

Yelena holds her batons at the ready, tips pointing to the floor but not far enough away from her body as to be wide open. She's taken on a basic MMA baton fighting style, and Kate’s stance is one she's seen in Kendo.

Kate's eyes do not remain still, darting from batons to hands to eyes to her stance, looking to see who will strike first.

The tension hangs for a single, charged second, and then they're both crossing to meet each other; Yelena brings up a baton and parries the Do sword strike with a clack.

Here Kate uses the sword length to her advantage, coupled with her height and longer limbs she can keep Yelena at a fair distance while able to levy attack after attack. Their next bout of parries tells her she's good at it too.

Yelena was ready for this to be a quick match, one where she lands another over-confident rookie onto her ass, no matter how talented she may be. But, Kate had said yesterday her scores were high and it shows here.

They separate, circling, Yelena sees Kate is needing to take purposeful breaths — the bouts had been quick and powerful. She would consider it a point to herself if she weren't needing to do a mental reassessment of her combat strategy.

She taps the tip of her baton against the other, and Kate gives the Do sword a little spin on her grip, her forearm rippling with the motion.

They meet again, this time Yelena going for a little more aggression than before. The last rounds showed Yelena that Kate wasn't afraid to take on the offense, nearly favoring it. How will she respond by Yelena doing so instead?

This time she puts in more power and speed, and delights when Kate’s expression shifts first from surprise then to excitement. Even though she's on her back foot her response time is great, and Yelena finds herself admiring the way Kate’s build lets her smoothly absorb the blocks without flinching — in fact there's no wasted motion going from parry to parry, something Kendo really tries to drill home. She'd thought, with Kate’s somewhat chaotic plan yesterday that her fighting might be full of flairs and showy (but high effort) swings, instead she's meeting tight control and experience.

With a grin to Kate (who returns it easily) she decides to try to close out the bout. It's risky, but really she feels like she has a good read on Kate’s body language and fighting style now, so it was time to test that.

As Kate attempts her own attack, Do sword swinging down in an overhand chop, Yelena redirects the blow to the side, and brings her other baton up to strike the side of Kate’s exposed head.

She gets the baton to pull to a stop before hitting her fully, but she hears the AI say “Draw” and when she looks at her side she can see that Kate has gone around her block and the sword is pointed at her ribs.

Kate's grin is infectious despite the fact that she would usually be annoyed at this sort of thing. A miscalculation she rarely makes, but Kate has also done a good feint to pull that off.

“A feint?” Yelena says as they separate. “That was pretty good, I have to admit.”

Kate spins the sword again, the movement of her arms a little distracting as she grins. “Thanks! But you've been pretty good at making openings. It's made this challenging.”

She laughs, unused to being considered anything other than deadly and dangerous. “Challenging? I should hope so!”

Kate taps the tip of her sword to the ground. “Think you got another round in you?”

Here her grin sharpens dangerously. “I do, Kate Bishop.”

“Alright, let's see it then.” Kate, apparently unaffected by the threat, swipes at a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. With her other hand she points the Do sword at Yelena, clearly ready to go again too.

They trade more parries, this time going faster and harder, the hits reverberate up her arms from the force and speed. She can see the concentration on Kate’s face — she wants to do well here, and is matching her blow for blow.

“Okay, Kate!” She says, in a tone that shows she feels impressed when they separate from this bout.

Kate grins. “This is a lot more fun than I thought, most people give up after a few rounds.” She once again pushes a strand of hair away from her face.

“I can see why, you’ve got some good power, especially on your backswing; it’s very nice.” She says, recalling the way it'd left her arm tingling up to her elbow from the block. Not her smartest move, especially when she knew she could've side stepped, but she thought by staying close to Kate she could get a hit in — which didn't happen.

“Thank you! It was pretty cool how you used your baton to almost disarm me, with the —” Kate does a little twisting motion with her hand. “You know?”

She finds herself returning the gesture without thought. “I do, since I did it.”

Kate laughs, which is nice, most people would categorize this as too sarcastic and rude, yet Kate is only amused. “Fair enough! Got another round in you?”

“I do!” Yelena says, and goes into a new stance, this time favoring her right foot forward, both batons held out in front of her — she's opted to change fighting styles to a traditional Nito-Ryu style, more typically used for dual swords (so lots of chopping or slashing motions, she hopes it catches Kate off guard).

She's immediately pleased to see that Kate also changes stances, changing to one she's seen used by modern MMA styles — body angled to the side, legs at shoulder width, and sword pointed to the ground in front of her.

She lunges forward, hoping to test Kate’s new defense. Had she not gone with this one first because she's better or worse at it? She sees Kate’s shoulders tense, readying themselves for impact. Her response time is good.

Nito-Ryu is a more fluid style, so as Kate blocks her first swing, Yelena lets momentum carry her body forward into the next one, her other arm coming around to complete the set up, but Kate flows with her, bodies moving as one for a beautiful moment; then Kate’s back foot is creating a place to retreat to, and the rest of her body follows suit — guard closing in, sword pushing Yelena’s right hand baton out. This ends with Yelena’s left baton swinging into empty air, and Kate re-establishing the distance in a smooth motion.

Kate leaps off her back foot to spring an attack, and Yelena moves with her, going backwards and hits her sword with both batons, throwing off Kate’s aim with the first hit and the second she uses to redirect Kate’s body away from her.

Kate turns back around and Yelena can see that this is a better performing fighting style for both of them. It's a good look for Kate, she's obviously talented, her movements are smooth, and she smartly distributed her weight through the stances so she's never off-kilter and her blows don't land poorly. It will be even more difficult to break through her defenses.

The bout had lasted mere seconds, and they're back to square one, parries and ripostes shared but no ground gained. Normally Yelena would be frustrated by now — a zero sum for the whole of their match, but she’s too caught up in enjoying the way Kate is good at fighting. Fluid and graceful despite her powerful build.

Kate is good enough that Yelena can't even be sure it would come down to endurance. She could press her own advantages, blend her combat styles and expertise to catch Kate off guard, use her enhanced reflexes and durability to put Kate on her back foot. In a real fight she would do all of these things. But there's something about this that's just fun and electric. It feels like it's spoiling the moment to do so and so she hasn't. She's pleased to see Kate’s own gaze is sharp and bright — clearly enjoying herself too.

Now Kate’s going for aggression again, stepping quickly into Yelena’s guard, pushing forward by batting her right baton away and closing the distance. She's using her bigger body to try to press Yelena back into precarious footing, so it'll be all the more likely Yelena leaves an opening for her to take advantage of.

Instead of allowing her to continue to press, Yelena swats her Do sword up, and steps under her arms to her backside.

She spins quickly and points the other baton at the back of Kate’s neck.

“Draw.” The AI’s voice intones.

Yelena looks down. Kate, seeing the underhanded play Yelena made, switched grip on her sword and pushed the blade behind her so it pointed at Yelena’s neck. A bold move, and quick thinking, as Yelena would have got the point if she hadn't.

They step away, catching their breaths. 

“Okay!” Kate says, grinning, her sword at rest by her side. “You gotta admit, there's something here!”

Yelena finds herself nodding. While John had been an interesting if somewhat predictable match, this was… completely on a different level.

Before she knows it Kate is slinging an arm around her shoulder. “See? I told you, top combat scores first, then we wow them with our awesome drift scores.”

Yelena laughs, “Alright, Kate. I can admit you know your way around a sword. But drifting is…” she fails to find the right words, as she can only find the word ‘everything’ on her tongue, but that won't explain it to Kate.

“Well, I've drifted before!” Kate says, pulling away and hanging up the Do sword back on the racks.

Yelena hangs her batons too, then faces Kate. “Oh? What's your take away?”

Kate looks thoughtful, and just sighs, “Well there was this guy from another group when I first joined, I thought maybe we were a good match. But…” she trails off with a shrug. “It wasn't that great, but everything before his thoughts were there was amazing!”

She reflects on her own poor drifting experiences. Not good. And with Kate being a rookie, no doubt it should have turned her off to the experience. For many drifting the very first time is catastrophic enough that they drop out of the program, not ready for the amount of thoughts shared in the drift. But Kate looks eager to go at it again, poor first experience be damned.

“Well good, then we can jump right in. Later this afternoon? After lunch?” Yelena says, walking up to the AI platform and bringing up the schedules for training cockpits.

“Yeah! I'm so ready to do this.” Kate says from behind her, excitement clear in her tone.

They separate for the rest of the morning, Yelena feeling her own excitement build. It's tempting to give in, to dive into the emotion and let it roam freely (disastrously, consumingly) through her heart the way Kate seems to. But it felt too soon for that kind of thing.

As she thought the sparring just confirms what their little trip to the command center told her: Kate was a good match for drift compatibility.

Chapter Text

Random Access Brain Impulse Trigger: often shortened to RABIT, these occur while drifting and is the sharing of memories or emotions in the drift. Pilots are dissuaded from getting too caught up in the memory or emotion (colloquially referred to ‘Chasing the RABIT’), as this causes the drift sync to destabilize. In rare occasions the Jaeger will perform the action or react to the RABIT.

• Jaeger Pilot Academy Handbook (pg. 24, published 2014).

The Drivesuits they're both putting on hardly feels like anything to Yelena, with all the upgrades and improvements done in the two years she's been gone. It's made to translate their motion inside the cockpit to the Jaeger, and offers some protection, but mostly for the delicate sensors, feedback inhibitors, amps, and trackers inside. The ones in the past were bulkier and thicker; these look sleek and are lightweight. Having them fully on makes the pair of them look like androids.

Since this cockpit is just to practice drifting, most of the Drivesuit only translates to the simulation, it captures the weight and rigidity of moving a real Jaeger. All of this is good practice for them and the Jaeger team (assistants, engineers, scientists, nurses, doctors, and many more comprise the full Dark Talon Jaeger team besides the co-pilots). So, as somewhat annoying as it is to set everything up in the cockpit and Pons System (which is the neural interfacing system), don and later remove the Drivesuits, they will all do it every time. 

The good thing about this being neither of their first time is they don't have to wait for their bodies to get used to the spinal clamps. And, most first timers need to hook up to the Pons System for thirty minutes minimum to get used to the sensation. 

Yelena’s own first had been, all things considered, likely average. The spinal clamp connected and a buzzing sensation had crawled up her spine. At the time she had felt like a bug or several had somehow managed to find their way into her suit. This sensation was quickly overwhelmed by the yank that her brain did. A jolt that seemed to delete all higher brain functions, only keeping the ones that let her stand and be alive. She would have panicked if she had the thoughts to, instead she felt like her brain was getting sucked out of her head through her spinal column. Each heartbeat made her feel like her brain was shrinking, her vision dimming. After the longest few seconds of her life, the feeling reversed. Her head had throbbed and then the shrinking and dulling turned around into something sharp and explosive. Now that Yelena has hooked up to the Pons System too many times to count, she barely notes the sensation, more focused on getting her feet connected to the locks and connecting her helmet to the AI. The sensation does even out, and as she becomes one with the neural interface the changes don't even register.

Next to her, Kate is withholding a shudder. So maybe it wasn't her first time, but it was clearly her second. After a minute Kate begins to do the same, following suit with Yelena and completing the hookup to the cockpit.

Kate looks at Yelena, her hand hovering over the ‘Initiate Handshake’ button. She's standing tall, excitement written in her eyes and tugging a grin onto her lips. “Ready?”

Yelena nods, her hand going over to her own button and together they depress it. In the real cockpit of a Jaeger all of the manual buttons will be holograms. Most new drifters find the real buttons easier to attune to, especially if they've panicked and need to power everything down.

“Initiating handshake.” The AI says, and the countdown from three begins in her ear.

The sync rate quickly climbs. The first 50% is easiest — basest functions joining into one. Yelena feels tentative excitement. She hesitates to draw any comparisons — the first would be in the Black Widow Program, either version, and just about anything would be better; the second would be with Natasha, and she's not doing that. She at least can hope this one sticks, the idea of doing this over and over again will sap any joy she could get from the experience.

As soon as they pass the halfway mark, Yelena begins to get Kate’s emotions from the drift.

She's excited and nervous. But there is a wisp there, underlying everything else. She can't name it, not yet, they're still so early in the connection. But Kate’s emotions are like a tide, rolling in and out, each emotion strong and pulling, and quickly released to the next one. Her excitement mounts as she catches a glimpse of Yelena’s own calmness. It is, of course, something she puts forth for Kate, it makes the early syncing easier if they're both calm. And already it's like they're conversing, Kate taking the calmness and running with it. Excited still, but the spikes (the crests of waves) have evened out into something less overpowering.

‘This is so cool!’ Kate's thought comes to her next, and she can see she's practically vibrating next to her.

The first memory surfaces, and it's of Kate going through her first drift. It's with someone else, a nice, seemingly pleasant boy who is fresh faced and angular looking. He’s chattering to Kate about his nerves and takes up the spot that Yelena does — left side, and it's a by-product of the first drift, scenery overlaying with itself. Before Kate can remember them into some kind of drift-in-a-drift situation (even now it's clear Kate is now thinking about their current drift and the scene is warping to show themselves five minutes ago), Yelena instead clings to the excitement and awe feelings that Kate has to usher a memory of her own in.

She's piloting with Natasha, in the Black Widow Jaeger. At their feet is the still dying body of the Kaiju class Wiwaxian. They'd peeled back the chitinous plate on its chest and speared it with a knife (easily the size of a five story building). They step in unison, feet shaking the tiny trees far below, the tallest of which only reaches the Jaeger’s shins. They pull the knife from its chest. The iridescent blue blood spurts in an arc as they do so, coating the ground below in big pools of it. 

Together her and Natasha share a feeling of triumph as they go, and a single glance between them also shares a smile. It feels good to outperform expectations. It feels even better to do it in a Jaeger with her sister.

This Kaiju class beast is the biggest that's come down, but in the years to come this won't even manage to be classified as a Category One. But it's their first kill and proof of concept for the Red Room’s machine.

Natasha and her share a shrug as the knife is sheathed back into the holster on the Jaeger’s leg — the Jaeger too shares the shrug, a creaking, large thing, palms up.

“Double tap?” Natasha asks, and Yelena immediately agrees.

The Kaiju is twitching, most likely dead but they pick up the Jaeger’s foot and crush its skull. Half of it embeds into the ground, the other half explodes under their large sheet metal foot.

“They'll be picking that out of the trees for years.” Natasha says, and Yelena laughs. The both of them are still running high from the kill.

“Right? Talk about gross. Even worse, it's totally got onto our foot. Look.” Yelena had said, and together they pick up the foot. On their screen they see Kaiju brain matter, skull chunks, and viscera slide onto the ground.

The memory fades, buoyant on good feelings, and gives way to a memory of Kate’s.

She's seeing the Black Widow Jaeger from a new perspective, a camera recording from the ground that makes it seem towering and intimidating. It’s the Black Widow Jaeger, newly refinished, polished, and under a new name — Dark Talon piloted by Clint Barton and Natasha. Together they watch Dark Talon loom over a Kaiju, one foot posing proudly on top of its still twitching corpse.

The view gets smaller as the clip finishes, the TV resizing it as it brings back a seated Natasha and Clint to the foreground. They're next to each other, both of them have their legs crossed, they both laugh when the interviewer asks a question, both their heads are thrown back as they do, both their hands come up and clap twice each — completely in unison, typical of Jaeger Co-Pilots, something the interviewer remarks on, creating a round of good natured ribbing between the pair. (Clint: Well I never snored until I started piloting with Nat. Natasha: Yeah, right. Ask his wife and she'll disagree.)

They move on to the questions the interviewer has lined up, talking about how they met and teamed up, then into their recent stint of protecting the West Coast of the US from a wave of attacks.

Now the picture continues to zoom out and a preteen Kate is practically glued to the screen, but she's turned a little to barely listen to her mother.

In the background her mother talks, telling her about the charity gala she's supposed to attend with her that weekend, but Kate is clearly catching maybe every fifth word, she's much more focused on Clint telling the audience that being in a Jaeger makes you feel like you can fight a hurricane. 

At hearing Barton's comment she feels a spike of anger (grief and emptiness quickly following as the memory opens another door). And she attempts to stifle it but it's too late, she's already seeing Natasha’s grave. “Daughter - Sister - Avenger" she'd said the last one mockingly, angrily, mournfully, acid in her throat that the Avengers saw fit to include themselves, a final insult, she ought to go to the Shatterdome and —

And shit, Kate is chasing the RABIT, standing over a grave herself — Derek Bishop, deceased 2012, a casualty in the Battle of New York.

It's too much, Yelena needs to pull back but the emotion is too strong. “Don't Chase the RABIT.” She says to Kate, and swears in Russian because it's too strong, too late, and —

She's standing in a perfectly silent hall in a very large penthouse in New York City. The other RABITs had had a false quality, easy to shove aside. But this? The wooden floor she's standing on has color, texture, gravity — it creaks under Kate’s foot.

The air is tense, and vaguely lemon-y. There's a sound she hears, moving in and out, it's far away but sharp, and Yelena (from Kate) is reminded of the ocean.

Her surroundings show wealth, real marble busts, paintings in ornate frames, and this hall opens into a large, grand foyer made of a richly colored mahogany. From Kate she knows the double doors to her right open into an elevator. 

Kate Bishop is breathing heavily. She's very young, (nine, she suddenly knows), and in a set of cartoon decorated pajamas. There's a hitch in her breath and her pose is weird — she's hunched over, and the steps she takes are small and tentative. She's scared, she realizes. She's scared and attempting to sneak.

Something distantly bangs and the chandelier overhead swings and shakes — the crystals that splendidly hang down crash into each other. Amazingly to Yelena, the thing remains intact.

Child Kate had scooted back, her head swiveling up and looking at the chandelier. Once things settle she begins creeping forward again, still hesitant but in her mind she's determined, she has to know —

She gets close to a room on the other side of the grand foyer and from here Yelena can see floor to ceiling bookshelves. But it's not right, half the shelves are empty, contents strewn over the floor. And as she and Kate approach she can hear the whistle of wind. The loud, sharp wave-like sound is closer and Yelena can see it's several books, their pages flapping around in a harsh breeze.

“Dad?” Child Kate tentatively calls, her head peering into the room, craning her neck, trying to get any sign of anything.

As soon as they get to the doorway, the rest of the room comes into view — or what's left of it. The whole back half of the room is gone, the open air rushes in, whipping Kate’s hair around her head and sending some stray papers flying. What isn't air is rubble — stones and beams amid books and paper.

Kate's in shock, plain to see, she stumbled forward like she's possessed to the very edge that opens to the cavernous city. Together they look down. The streets are in chaos, though the noise of it all struggles to reach them up here, so it makes for an eerie silent film. Cars, craters, and rubble are scattered around. 

Down the street she can see it, a Kaiju named Knifeheart — the first true Category One to make Earthfall, and it had shambled along the East Coast of the US, destroying small coastal towns as it went until it finally hit New York City. It's ramming a large skyscraper with its spiky chest, even from here the sound of glass and steel breaking and warping is horrible, screeching, and loud. Kate covers her ears, and she can't hear the startled shout she gives over the noise. 

It throws a steel beam, which crashes into a building just across the street, impaling it cleanly. The Kaiju roars a deep, guttural, low sound that shakes the very ground her and Kate stand on.

Kate gasps and ducks, her hands (only just moving away) goes back to her ears. Her heart rate kicks up and she's thinking she should run, but she's stuck, frozen in place.

Distantly Yelena knows this as a monumental moment. The day goes down in history, not just for its destruction — a monster touching down and ravaging a major world city, taller than buildings, taller than life — but it's the first time an official WCO Jaeger was dropped in to fight.

And here she sees it: Dark Talon in all its glory, quick and small (unlike the first ones made by Stark that were huge, powerful, and slow). Dark Talon charges Knifeheart, the thrusters flaring bright enough that Kate looks away as it passes.

She's seen this fight from many angles in the years that passed, even a prized one from when she drifted with Natasha. She feels no desire to watch it now, and knows in just one short minute Knifeheart will be dead and Dark Talon will stand triumphant in the city ruins.

Instead she focuses on child Kate, who has tear streaks and dust on her face, but her mouth is hanging open in awe. She watches, enraptured, as Clint Barton exits the Jaeger, smoke billowing from the cockpit, standing on its shoulders to take in the dead creature. There is the briefest glimpse of bright red hair as Natasha exits out the other side. Kate sees him with watery, big eyes, full of so many things — hope, gratitude, awe, the feelings so strong they're nearly overwhelming to Yelena, and she's an adult with a lifetime of experience under her belt. She knows Kate, as a child, will be unable to fully process it in a way that's good for her.

Of course, this moment is broken when Kate’s mother shrieks her name and comes running in, pulling her away from the edge and scooping her into her arms. It's too late, the attack is over, but Eleanor Bishop doesn't know this, and she can see memories branch away, fizzling as it goes, the impression of going to a bunker somewhere, the way she'd been gathered in her mother's arms the whole time, her forehead pressed against her shoulder, even though she'd felt far too old to be in her mom’s arms she felt comforted all the same, the way she'd been hungry and tired but had replayed the vision in her mind of Dark Talon and Clint Barton over and over (each iteration more heroic), and all the interviews and grainy YouTube videos she'd see in the years that followed.

The simulation ends as Yelena slams the disconnect button down, still queasy from the sensation of being not here . She hasn't experienced that sensation in a long time and having it here, now, with Kate was disorienting. Usually chasing the RABIT like this meant the pair’s sync status would drop, so what did it mean for them that instead it went up ? The other times she achieved a drift sync that high were purposeful, and only among her fellow Widows who were trained to do just that; this was accidental.

“Simulation complete.” The AI voice tells them.

They're both breathing heavily, the feeling of one-ness hard to shake. Even as they each step out and disconnect, their motions are still synced up.

It had been a moment, probably around five total minutes from start of sync to now. But Yelena feels like an hour has passed. She feels sweaty and the panic that Kate had felt makes her feel jumpy and itchy. The synchronization will pass, she knows, but Kate Bishop is still in her head and feels apologetic for the emotional detour, even when Yelena was the one who started it.

They each take a moment to breathe, even as they start to remove pieces of the Drivesuit. She can feel the emotions clinging to Kate — grief, panic, awe — that she's doing an admirable job of talking herself out of and into the present moment. Yelena herself has to keep it at bay, separating her own feelings from the drift lest they both mix and build on each other.

The feelings mellow out, enough for them to share a look, then a grin. She sees Kate’s shoulders relax and in Kate’s brain she’s picturing a cucumber, then a dog wearing sunglasses riding a skateboard, and finally a phrase ‘nailed it’ in colorful, explosive text. 

What?

One of the scientists that comes in to help says, somewhat amazed, that they'd stabilized at 96% sync rates. While she wasn't sure of the exact amount their drift sync climbed to earlier, she suspects when they destabilized it likely reached a little over 98%. But still, stabilizing at 96% is a good sign for them.

Kate Bishop feels smug, and she can hear her thinking ‘I can't wait to say I told you so! Hah!’

She rolls her eyes and looks at Kate, thinking ‘No one likes braggart, Kate Bishop.’ trying to shove the maximum annoyance she can feel into the thought.

Kate recoils visibly, clearly not aware they were ghost drifting. She's thinking several thoughts at once, each spilling over the next in a tangled mess. ‘Holy shit!’ and ‘oh Fuck you're still here!’ and ‘This is so cool!’ and ‘I can tell you don't find it that annoying, Yelena Belova.’ and ‘Wait, is this permanent?’ and ‘You’re sisters with THE Natasha Romanoff— oh God, I wasn't going to bring it up, shit fuck I'm thinking about it now, I need to think about something else—’

“Kate Bishop.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. And it'll be fine. Once Kate learns how to separate her mind from the drift. Until then there will be this.

Kate winces, but it's enough to stop the flow of that , “Yeah, sorry. In fairness, I didn't know this would continue to happen! They told us it only happens with frequent drifts.”

Yelena sighs, the books never quite get it right. Do they ever think to consult a real expert? “Anything over 95% will have side effects like this. It'll pass in a few minutes. In the meantime please don't think so much.”

“You got it, boss!” Kate mimes zipping her lips and tossing the key, which doesn't make much sense to Yelena, where was the lock?

Ten seconds pass in silence as they remove their suits (the assistants moving around them to help with bulkier and hard to reach pieces) before Kate says, “I can like, regularly talk though. Right?”

Yelena shrugs, and slips the suit off, finally feeling relief at the cooler air hitting her skin. “Why not?”

Now at the prospect of being able to talk, Kate is instead thoughtful. The ghost drifting is passing, leaving only the vague impressions of her emotions — hesitation, excitement, and the dawning realization that this was it . They'd drifted successfully. This meant for all intents and purposes they would get a Jaeger, they would be co-pilots, they would be a team . She can feel the enormity of the moment crashing into Kate. The feeling carries on until the ghost drifting fades and Yelena is left to feel the weight of it all by herself.

“Cat got your tongue, Kate?” Yelena prods. It's one thing to think these things, it's another to share them. In a time not too long from now they won't even need to speak; her and the other Widows had been able to have conversations without speaking to each other for weeks. Right now she's not familiar enough with Kate’s thoughts to parse all that information — to find conclusions among the feelings, to translate the images in Kate’s mind into things that make sense to her.

But, even more than that, she finds the prospect of just… jumping in at the deep end unsavory. Here is a woman she will know as well as she knows herself. Soon they will be one unit. Can't they have the novelty of the other stuff first? Talking to each other? Getting to know each other the regular way? The Kate of today is practically a stranger, and she is to Kate.

“No, I was just thinking. Like, it's a little crazy, all this stuff, right? I mean, I sort of talked to you on a whim , you know?” Kate says, dragging a towel across her neck.

“I guess so.” Yelena says, kneeling down to loosen her shin plates. “I would have got to you at some point though.”

“Unless you found someone you liked and settled with.” Kate counters, yanking her chest plate off and handing it to an assistant.

Yelena thinks for a second, of finding someone else, of partnering with them. She shakes her head, pulling the leg pieces off with a grunt. There is simply no way the feeling could be replicated with someone else. She's drifted with partners, she drifted with family. The Black Widow Program created the highest drift sync rates possible, and it still didn't compare. She can't possibly explain it; she'd wanted to find something (without daring to define it) when she agreed to come back and so she wouldn't have settled until she did. She just says, “I don't think so.”

She stands up, passing off the leg pieces to someone, just in time to see that Kate’s pulled a face.

Yelena in turn gives her a questioning look.

Kate throws her hands in a shrug, disrupting the assistant who was removing the arm pieces. “I don't know, it's just weird is all I'm saying.”

Now Yelena pulls a face at her emphasis on the word weird. “Kate Bishop. Please tell me you aren't one of those people who listens to all that phooey about drifting partners and star charts, face shapes, whatever. It's all nonsense.”

The look Kate shoots her is completely amused, she's twisting around to allow the back plate to be removed. “What if I am? When’s your birthday? Just curious.”

Yelena, now down to her under suit, wipes her face down with a towel and chuckles at Kate, but injects as much dryness into her tone as she says “You're incredible.”

“Thanks!” Kate says brightly, and when Yelena throws her a glance she can see by the cheeky grin that she's choosing to take it as a compliment despite Yelena's sarcastic delivery. 

Yelena laughs and shakes her head. Kate is truly ridiculous.

As soon as they're done changing clothes they both leave the cockpit and enter into the main control room. They're accosted by their new handler, who smiles widely while brandishing a few reams worth of paper. They're wearing slacks and a floral button up, and sport an undercut that's grown out a bit. “Hi, I'm Dottie, let's go over your schedule and room changes. You've got a lot to do in the coming months!”

Yelena snags a copy of the papers they hold out from their grasp and brushes past them.

Kate does actually stop and talk to them, even as she's leaving she can hear the relief from their handler as she does so.

Chapter Text

The Breach: a wormhole in space-time. It is seemingly dimensionally locked with Earth based on how it maintains its orbit of the solar system in time with our planet, always staying at 1.2 astronomical units from Earth. From The Breach the bug-like Wiwaxians emerge and make their way to Earth. [...]The Breach entrance has withstood several nuclear explosions without any changes. [...]To date, scientists are still trying to learn how The Breach came to be, and of the rampaging creatures that emerge from it.

• A documentary by PBS Nova, (video format published 2021).

She glances down at her paper and sees the new room assignment. It's a floor up, and Yelena goes back to her old room to set about moving the things she'd brought with her.

All along the way, Clint Barton’s face swims in her memory of a memory, mixing horribly with the hero worship Kate clearly felt. It picks at a wound within, even now she can remember him returning to the Shatterdome alone. (All Yelena had managed to choke out, “You left her there!”, replied with Clint’s simple, pinched, “I’m sorry.”, and all the empty days that followed.)

What a relief, at least, that he’s retired just as she was. Seeing the occasional drifting memory of Clint Barton from Kate, she can manage. She thinks. It'll have to be something she works on, especially since Kate’s very fond of him (a fan, something she thinks she can come around enough to tease, but right now tastes sour in her mouth). As jarring as it had been to see him, to see his cocksure answer to the interviewer, she has time to get herself together. And certainly wallowing in her anger over Clint Barton won't help right now.

She hasn't bothered to truly unpack, even if the stuff she has barely fills one box. By the time it's all together and she's sparing a glance at the now empty room, she's satisfied that she's left nothing behind, not even memories. Instead she has the next… whatever length of time she has with Kate, conceivably the rest of their lives if things go well, but minimally they've got three years to her contract if it doesn't.

The conversation from earlier comes back to her now, as she closes up her old room and heads to her new one. Fate. Her and Kate had both been talking about it but in their own ways. Kate had meant it as a series of events, like dominoes purposefully placed one after the next, that tipped into each other until they were led here. Yelena has never believed in fate. There can't be a reason (cosmically or whatever) that she had to go through all of that. It would be too much. But somehow, something about drifting with Kate made her seem like an inevitability, like she would have wound up with Kate anyway.  

As she stops in front of her new room door, she decides it won't bother her either way. She'd gone into the Jaeger Program a second time to look for something. At first following ghosts. Now though, she thinks, opening the door to their new shared room; now she has come away with something of her own. Whether that was some kind of (horrible, cruel) hand of fate, or something else, she will take it without looking back for why.

The step up into the rank of Ranger was for Kate to enjoy alone. For Kate it would mean a bigger room, and a bathroom she only has to share with Yelena. Yelena has enjoyed these things since she joined all those years ago. But still, with this all being new to Kate, she wonders if, like the drift, a little of that excitement can continue to wear off on her.

She puts the box down on a small desk, first removing a framed picture of her, her parents, Natasha, and a few Widows, all posed for a camera. She stares at it perhaps a little too long, lost in the day this was taken. Happy then, only now tinged with bittersweet aftertastes.

She gingerly sets it down onto the nightstand she decides is her own, puts her clothes away in the drawers she also claims, and by the time Kate Bishop comes in, juggling boxes stacked way over her head, she's claimed the bottom bed for herself and is lounging in it.

“Kate Bishop!” She says, glancing over at the woman struggling to push the door open wide enough to fit her things through.

After some clattering around, the boxes are set heavily on the desk by Kate with a huff.

“You know, you could've stopped to talk to Dottie.” Kate says, voice reproachful, but she at least looks a little amused judging by the slight upturn of her lips.

Yelena decides then and there that Kate is a Teacher’s Pet. She wonders how many drifts it will take before she is proven wrong (or right?).

She shrugs from where she lays, then recites the training schedule she herself selected, along with the times. Kate is lucky, some people have obscenely late training sessions. “The itinerary is as follows: tomorrow we wake at 5am. We have individual training until breakfast at 6:30am. From 7am to 9am we’ll learn something physical like dancing or fighting, but it'll be something we learn together. It's important for future handshakes. Then we have classes together until noon. 12pm we have lunch for 45 minutes, after that we have free time until we drift from 3:30pm to 5:30pm. Then dinner.”

“Yeah, I mean. Yeah.” Kate says, then, likely to be a pest she continues, “Alright then, what're the classes on?”

She hasn't had time to look any deeper into Kate's educational profile other than to confirm which classes she should recommend they take. She wonders which fields she'd found interesting, if the classes Yelena picked would be too boring to her. “Engineering basics specifically for our Jaeger. Then one for using and re-coding the AI and hand holograms. Our last class is for emergency actions and safety.”

Kate crumples the paper and tosses it at the trash — it makes it in and she does a small fist pump before grinning at Yelena. “Yeah, okay. I'm amazed you still know all that, wasn't your training like, I don't know, seven years ago? Are you one of those people who have photographic memories?”

Yelena watches Kate turn and start pulling things out of a box — knick-knacks immediately finding a home on the other dresser. “Hm. Well, I wrote the training guide. I don't see why they would make any changes to it when it was perfect the first time.”

Kate halts, the magazine she’s pulled out sags over. “Uh,” she's looking at Yelena now, squinting. “Wait, you're a Black Widow?”

Yelena’s face gets caught between the grin she did have (and tries to maintain) and a grimace, but it's not a happy thing, even on her face its transformed into something stretched too tight. “Yes. I'm surprised you know about them.”

“I—” Kate starts to say, her face says she's already trying to be careful.

But there's a clanging knock on their door that interrupts Kate.

Kate and her share a look, one that says neither had been expecting visitors.

Kate gets the door, and standing there looking pleased is Clint Barton.

“Hey kid, I want to—” he's saying and then his eyes take in the room fully, widen at seeing Yelena, who is sitting up now. What the fuck? Her whole world upends, and a coal of white hot anger gets caught in her throat.

“What —” Clint says, voice a little empty and face blank, as Yelena says,

“Leave.” To him, anger simmering just beneath the surface feeling close to erupting. She's brought back to the memory of Clint “When you're in a Jaeger, you feel like you can take on a hurricane. Like you can win.” echoes from its shallow grave that she didn't even get to finish burying.

“I can explain!” Kate tries to cut in, her gaze darting at Yelena then back at Clint.

She isn't hearing it though, not really. Her vision narrows until it's just her and him. Before she knows it she's getting to her feet, her fists are clenched at her sides, teeth bared, the world is blurring and burning and he's getting closer. (No he's not, she's storming over to him, she realizes as everything else moves with him, walls, tables, dressers and all).

An arm comes up and stops her. She looks down, follows it to the source — Kate, her eyes wide.

She looks over and Clint is backing away, arms up. “Sorry,” he's saying. “I'm sorry.” He's saying again (he's said it a hundred times now, each one washing over her like the tide, leaving her feeling a little more empty, a little less of everything else, like some part of her is being eroded into the depths with his words, leaving only raw, exposed nerve. It's no different now).

The breath she lets loose is practically a hiss, but there's blood roaring in her ears and she finds it’s hard to care.

“Yelena!” Kate is saying (Imploring? Scolding? She isn't in any position to find out which, but it's something strained and emotional).

Clint continues to back away, like she's a predator who will jump him with his back turned. He's right. 

As soon as he's out of sight it's like magic, her thoughts come crashing back, and even though her heart is pounding, (she's crying? Is that right?), and her fist is still clenched, she lets Kate walk her back to her bed.

She sits down heavily, her mind spinning with thoughts as she falls from anger to grief.

Kate sits down next to her. “I'm sorry,” she says, like she's done anything, and Yelena looks at her, sees the apologetic expression, sees her biting her lip. “I didn't have time to tell him anything.”

Yelena blinks. “What? You know him?” For a blinding second, she had no idea why the man had come, and she felt (impossibly) like he had come to see her. But him visiting Kate makes more sense, even in all the ways it doesn't yet. She's missing something, but she can't put it together right now.

“Yeah,” Kate says. “I realized after drifting with you I would need to explain some things. But,”

Yelena looks down at her hands, which have gathered on her lap. Her pulse quickens, and she's swallowed a rock that her stomach grips, her eyes burn. “I'll be right back.” She says, standing and walking into their shared bathroom.

The door clangs shut behind her and all at once everything leaves her. And she feels no further from that day two years ago when she watched her sister die. It still feels just as overwhelming, a tide crashing over her and burying her immediately. She sits down on the floor and closes her eyes.

This is not good, she thinks. She scrubs her face with her hands, and then takes a deep breath. It's all she can think about, distantly, as she remembers Natasha, the coy smirk on her face as she tells a stupid joke, and then she'd smile after like she was so funny. Natasha’s face lighting up when Yelena says she's going to join her at the WCO to help oversee the integration of Red Room technology to the Jaeger program. Natasha telling her about Clint the first time, like meeting him was a revelation and something clicked, but to Yelena he'd just been a name, but even then he was like everything to her sister. Natasha discussing the rebranding of the Black Widow Jaeger, how she'd looked proud to be a Black Widow for the first time ever. Natasha beaming, actually beaming, when Dark Talon won its first fight, she had soot on her face and she smelled like smoke, but the hug she gave was enveloping and bone crushing. Natasha on the news with Clint by her side, as they would be for years and years, but the very first newsreel, after, she'd told Yelena she had been hungover, so the picture that became the picture, the one used for all the promo shots and merchandise and posters, where she looks serious and thoughtful, is her trying hard to keep her breakfast down. They'd laughed so hard together from that. Natasha, who should be here with her, now, teasing the new recruits and making remarks about Yelena’s list of potential partners.

She's crying again and something inside her aches with emptiness, a hole that has never filled, as if she'd ever be able to.

It takes ten minutes for her to calm down, for the crying to turn to hiccupping. She gets to her feet and washes her face. Her reflection looks red-faced, puffy-eyed, and splotchy. She wipes at her face with a cloth, carefully removing the mascara she'd artfully applied that morning that has run down her cheeks. By the time she's done she feels… nothing. The emptiness within has applied its balm to her overwrought emotions. It will have to do.

She opens the bathroom door to see Kate is pacing. “Hey!” Kate says, stopping short and giving her a small smile. “I brought you food.” She points to a tray resting on the desk. It looks like a soup with a vegetable medley and a hunk of bread.

“Thanks,” she says, voice nasally and blank.

“Look, uh, we can totally go back to the groups if you want. I’d totally understand.” Kate says, looking like she's carefully considered this offer, but this doesn't make any sense to Yelena.

Yelena sits down at the desk, but turns the chair so she's facing Kate. “What do you mean? Do you not want to be partners?”

“No! Yes! I mean I want to be partners. I just meant,” Kate sits down on the bottom bed. “Clint.” Kate says, and winces, like Yelena will lose her mind at the mention of his name.

And, given her earlier reaction she guesses it seems fair. She sighs and goes for being purposefully obtuse, if only to hurry the conversation along to its point. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well,” Kate says, hands twisting together, clearly a nervous habit. “He's my mentor.”

Yelena closes her eyes and turns to her food. “That's fine.” She says, tearing a chunk off the bread.

“Is it?” Kate prods, and Yelena dunks the bread into the stew and eats it.

She takes the time to finish chewing, to let herself sit with the knowledge that she'll be seeing Clint in Kate’s drifting memories, seeing him… what? Proud? Talking about his wife and children, living a life? She swallows and turns back to Kate.

Kate’s gaze is soft, non-judgmental. Her mouth upturned slightly, not in humor or happiness, but in trying to seem comforting or careful or something Yelena can't yet name. “It's alright, Yelena. If this is what you want then it's what you want.”

Yelena opens her mouth, and Kate holds up a hand. “Please, think about it anyway. Whatever you picked right now, think about it for the night.”

Yelena nods, “I can do that.” She manages to say, voice sounding hoarse and raw.

“Great!” Kate says, though the stiffness in her face and movements tells Yelena it's anything but great. “My old bunkmates said I can stay there the night. They're insisting they can finish showing me Sunsets in SinCity, so, I'll be doing that.”.

Kate smacks her hands on her thighs and stands. Yelena watches her walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind her.

The room descends into silence and Yelena isn't very hungry to begin with, so the eating she does do could be classified as ‘picking at’. After maybe fifteen minutes she decides that's enough of that. The stew is room temp (and is usually either barely warmed up to begin with or blisteringly hot) and not very appetizing. She dumps the whole thing into the trash.

Technically this time was used by new pilots to build common memories together, this facilitated future drifting and made it easier. Instead the little incident has left her with some time alone, to contemplate whether she should resume her search and let Kate go.

She leans back on her chair, taking in the room, the half unpacked nature — Kate has a lot of stuff, but had got through maybe a third of one box.

The connection she got with Kate in the drift was undeniable. It left her feeling like she wanted more, it was nearly addicting, the realness of it — even when the RABITs were under control. When she'd drifted with Widows it did feel real, but this was different enough to not even be a good imitation, had been different in all the ways she didn't even know it could be… it had been an exhilarating prospect. Up until Clint stuck his head through the door, everything had felt… well, not perfect, but it was the closest to something that she's had in a long time. She doubts another rookie would provide the same experience.

Just sitting here is simply not enough, stuck amid the relationship that's been nearly clipped before it can begin. She gets to her feet, shrugs on a sweater and wanders the halls.

There's no destination in mind, not really, maybe she has the vaguest and briefest notion of going outside into the chilly spring air, but she's not determined enough to actually head that way. Instead she does her best to dip down halls that avoid the sounds of moving feet or talking voices. It shouldn't be a surprise that she winds up back in the entrance. The only time a person is here is if they're leaving or joining. 

She stands in front of the tank of the huge creature, the size of a small bus. Its plaque states it's one of the first Kaiju class Wiwaxian. Her eyes wander the frame, seeing the plates of armor and spikes, making it look like an exceptionally large, exceptionally strange pillbug.

“Yelena.” comes the soft voice of Clint Barton. He's come to a stop five feet away from her, his body turned to also face the display. Even from here he looks worn and tired, and she can't even take petty joy in this fact because seeing him like this means she's seeing him.

She sighs. “Barton.” She's suddenly exhausted, can't even conjure the energy to be angry again.

“Look, I—” He starts. And it's too much, for both of them, he stops and sighs. “What we have between us, please keep the kid out of it.”

“You think so highly of me, Barton.” Yelena tuts. Everything had happened so quickly, but she wonders if in another circumstance, whether she would have tried to hold Kate accountable for the sins of her mentor.

“I just,” he starts, eyes distant, as they have been every time they see each other. And she wonders who is looking? Natasha through the memories of Clint? She’s sure her sister is still in the drift for him the way she is for her. “She's a good kid. She's going to go far. And I know Nat…” he sucks in a sharp breath and stops again.

“Don't.” She says, she means for it to be threatening and cold, but instead it sounds just as tired and pained as he sounds.

Instead of backing down he just chuckles. “You know Nat would find this whole thing funny.”

And she can see it, that's the issue (or breaking point, or bridge). Natasha would have rolled her eyes with a smirk on her face, and she'd say something stupid like ‘Trying to copy your big sister, Yelena?’, despite the completely unconnected way her and Kate met. She chuckles at the thought.

Clint and her share a look, and a small smile, watery though it is between them. It's not a truce. Not really. But it's not the overt anger and hostility she's felt every time she sees him.

They stand in silence, and even though her eyes are pointed at the Kaiju in front of them, her mind is seeing Natasha. The one thing the two of them could agree with is that they loved her and she loved them. Will that ever be enough?

She sighs and begins to leave. “Don't worry your little bird brain. Kate will be fine with me.” Well, she mentally adds, as long as she didn't scare her away with that little incident.

“Thank you.” Clint says, standing in place and continuing to stare at the Kaiju.

Her hiding place is ruined anyway, so she begins to wander. It is a bit later in the day, so the halls are sparsely populated. She still does her best to avoid people and as she goes she finds herself walking into the hangar where Dark Talon is stored.

Now with a destination in mind, she walks up and up until she reaches a catwalk. For most other Jaegers this catwalk would wind up somewhere around the hips or thighs, but for Dark Talon this one is about at chest height. The nuclear core seems closed up, but the chest plate is still removed. She can see a crew is on the head, working on installing something, or fixing it. It being one of the earliest model Jaegers means it's gone through so many upgrades. Its original model was just a vaguely humanoid shape, a knife stored in each of its legs, and a pair of electrical bursts on the wrists (no official names for the items, but they'd all called them Widow Bites in honor of the weapons they shared on their wrists). Now there's thicker armor plates, upgraded thrusters and hydraulic limbs, probably rockets or some kind of projectile attachments. Dark Talon ten years ago had slugs bigger than a truck, that Natasha and Clint had called Bolts. She's willing to bet that's been updated by now.

But through all the changes she can see it, the Black Widow Jaeger underneath. Its domed head and multi-paned windows remain unchanged. It had been built for speed so its slim in many places Jaegers were reinforced. She knows it’s considered a weak point, many people thought a well-placed blow would take the machine out of commission for good. But it’s pilots used its thin torso, gangly limbs and light model to their advantage, able to dodge, jump, roll, and even sprint when most models couldn't.

She can hear footfalls behind approaching on the catwalk. It had better not be Barton again. She really will punch him this time. She glances over and instead sees Kate Bishop.

She had been leaning against the railing, but now she stands up straighter. “Kate Bishop.” She says by way of greeting.

Kate's smile is a little small and a little surprised. “Hey.” She says, coming to a stop in front of her, her gaze pulled to the Jaeger across from them.

“She's beautiful.” Yelena says.

“Yeah.” Kate says, leaning on the railing. From here it's closer than any camera or video has gotten. She can track the way Kate is looking at the seams in the plates, where weapons slide out of, or that allow for smooth movement.

“What happened to your binging of Sunsets in Whatever?” Yelena asks, taking in her sloping shoulders and distant eyes.

“Oh, that.” Kate shrugs. “I just needed a break. It turns out there's only so much of that I can watch at once.” And it's not the complete truth, this she can tell. It's clear Kate had been lost in thought for a while, is still thinking deeply in fact. About Barton? About Yelena? About the drifting memory from earlier? 

Instead of trying to pry right now, she decides to let Kate have her thoughts and comments on the topic instead: “I can hardly imagine why.” 

Kate snorts in amusement as she lowers herself, sitting on the catwalk. She scoots forward until her legs dangle off the edge. Then she looks up at Yelena, eyes full of earnestness and hope (an echo of the child she'd seen just a couple of hours ago now), and pats the spot next to her.

Yelena admits to herself she's a little surprised, she nearly attacked Clint Barton, (Kate’s mentor ), she'd been sure the evening separation was as much for Kate as it was for her. But she joins her, sitting, legs dangling down.

Together they admire the crew steadily working across the top of Dark Talon’s head. Sparks fly now and then, and Yelena is more than a little curious what they're putting in there.

“You know,” Kate says, voice a little wistful, and when Yelena looks over she's still got that far away look on her eyes, but she looks… happy isn't the right word, but it must be a near thing. It's the same emotion she's seen Kate wear several times now, to some extent, and she finds that it's a good look. It certainly doesn't mean anything bad, whatever it is, and it suits Kate.

Yelena makes a hum with her throat, to urge Kate to keep speaking.

“I've wanted this my whole life. Well, you know that.” Kate inclines her head to Yelena, looking at her with a small smile.

“Yes. And I imagine you worked hard for it.” Yelena says, more to try and prod Kate to keep speaking.

“But I don't want it at the cost of someone else.” She looks at Yelena, and Kate can see she's meaning her . “Yelena—”

“Kate,” She interrupts, holding up a hand. “Before you go throwing yourself from the bridge, let me just say something.”

Now it's her turn to search for the words, the very ones she's been thinking since early evening and has struggled to find.

Kate, for her part, gestures Yelena on with a little wave of her hand and an encouraging smile.

“I can't possibly promise you that I will one day like Barton.” She says finally. “And it's okay if that's a breaking point for you.” It isn't really okay, but what could she possibly do about that?

Kate shakes her head.

“Good. Because I liked drifting with you. More than I thought I would, and I'm willing to try.”

Kate looks relieved. “Thank God. I am too. Willing to try, I meant. I also liked drifting with you.”

Yelena pushes her foot over to kick at Kate’s. At least they could agree on this, on the trying. That always translated well in the drift. And for everything else — the vulnerability, the thoughts laid bare? Was it better to tell Kate now, to warn her? Or would it be better to once again bury those parts of herself. She had successfully done so for years.

Kate nudges Yelena’s foot back. “Cat got your tongue, Yelena?” 

“I've drifted a lot, you know.” Yelena says, which isn't the truth, but it is the start of it, the prologue, the first words on paper. More than that, it's also a door, and Yelena is pointing at the handle and seeing if Kate will turn it. “I just wanted you to know that you'll see things, they could make you uncomfortable. But this is what all our upcoming training is for. The reaction is the dangerous part, it's as much for you to control as your thoughts. Same for me.”

“Yeah, they had us do meditation a lot in the JaePA to learn to control our thoughts and reactions.” Now Kate’s glance and smile is sheepish. “I wasn't… the best at having quiet thoughts. Or sitting still. But in my defense you're piloting a Jaeger when you're drifting, right? So, just sitting around never made much sense to me. I mean, I did do it. Just so you know. In fact I passed that class with flying colors by the end.”

Yelena laughs at Kate’s lingering defensiveness, obviously played up to lighten the mood. And who was that defensiveness for, she wondered? A teacher now long in her past? Her mother? (herself?)

Kate amiably laughs with her. “See, now look where I am. The Shatterdome, standing, er, sitting in front of the best Jaeger.” She throws a jaunty salute at the Jaeger for good measure.

“At least you know it's the best. Everyone's always a fan of one of the big ones.”

“Some people, am I right?” Kate asks rhetorically, following it up with an exaggerated eye roll.

Yelena laughs and leans back, digging her fingers into the mesh of the catwalk. “Right?” She echoes Kate.

Kate's glance is serious and far away again. She looks longingly back at the Jaeger. She leans over, arms dangling over the railing. “I've got no… illusions, I guess, about drifting. Not just with you, but anyone. I know it isn't always amazing, that I might see or hear something I won't like. That's practically a day one lesson at JaePA.” And it's Kate, at that metaphorical door, but instead of trying to thrust it open she's leaving it up in the air for Yelena to decide what to share. “So, I mean, I can guess what that was with Clint.” And her eyes for this glance are knowing — knowing but not judgmental — (and Natasha’s death was announced globally, so, really anyone would've connected the same two dots, but it's nice that Kate isn't prodding, or worse pitying) “But that's between you guys… unless you want to talk about it, then I'm here for you, as a friend if you want. But maybe also as a Co-Pilot if you still want that.”

She gives Kate a smile, relief flooding her. It sounds like she hasn't scared Kate off yet. “That sounds good to me.” She sucks in a breath, deciding she can just say another truth, one that costs Yelena nothing. “You know if we still do this we'll know each other better than anyone else, right? I'm sure you've thought about that. But earlier I was thinking that I want to get to know you by talking to you, not just having me kicking around in your head.”

“Oh! Okay.” Kate leans back, mirroring Yelena's position. “I'm down, ask me something.”

And here Yelena mulls over the questions, examining them, trying to decide which ones she can ask now while everything is still so fresh. “So why go to college if you were going to pilot a Jaeger?”

“Oh, that.” Kate gives a somewhat humorless chuckle. “That was my mom. She thought for sure she could convince me to not join the Jaeger Program, and… I dunno, she was all like, ‘It'll be good to have something to fall back on.’ so, yeah. And besides that, that was the deal we struck: she'll pay for the academy if I went to college.”

She considers the answer, the way Kate’s pretty casual now but there's a lingering trace of something (Bitterness? Unhappiness?). “Well it certainly looks good on your Pilot Recruitment paper. But that has more to do with the… top marks? Whatever that was called.”

Kate preens, shoulders straightening and chest puffing out, “Summa Cum Laude? Yeah, that was all me.”

“So full of yourself, Kate Bishop.” She says lightly, too lightly for it to really be an insult.

“Well who else would I be full of?” The tops of Kate’s ears turn red, like a magic trick, and she looks at Yelena with a self-deprecating grin. “Don't answer that.”

She gives Kate an exaggerated eyebrow waggle that Kate promptly gives a scoff to.

“So, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you get into the Jaeger Program?” Kate asks.

And here Yelena is reminded of their earlier conversation — You're a Black Widow? — but despite knowing the title and maybe a random fact or two (which is more than the general population), she clearly doesn't know how they came to be, how there can be no Jaeger Program without the Black Widow Program. Which begs the question, and really she's been dancing around this very question since they met — how much to reveal now? Once again she settles on a truth, one that is close to her this time, but it spares all the hard things that she doesn't want to look at or unpack right now. “I went because Natasha did. At the time she was just an Avenger. But,” and here she can't help the fondness that laces her tone, “She wanted to help them make their Jaegers usable, and well, they weren't going to get anywhere without me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kate says, and she does sound impressed even though she's being sarcastic. It's an odd mix — earnestness and sarcasm, but it makes the comment come across as just lightly ribbing (and on someone else she would have felt affronted, but here? With Kate?), and Kate pulls off the combination remarkably well.

Kate’s phone buzzes and with a scowl she glances at the message. “I should get back. Greer thinks I got stuck in the bathroom again.”

“‘Again’?” Yelena asks, a confused smile forming on her lips.

Kate stands. “Yeah, uh. You know what? Forget I said that.”

Yelena stands too and when Kate faces her she smirks. “I definitely won't.”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, I should've seen that coming.” Kate says, not really looking annoyed but definitely there's a small amount of embarrassment there.

“So, you'll be going back to your bunkmates?” Yelena asks, trying to keep her tone neutral and even, it's not the place or time for hope or dismay.

“Yeah.” Kate’s shrug is apologetic. “They'll never forgive me if I skip out on the finale.”

Yelena hums. “Alright then.”

And with that they say their goodbyes and Kate wanders away, not before throwing Yelena a backwards glance and a wave goodbye.

Now at the end of their conversation, Yelena decides it's easy to talk to Kate. Even when she was skirting the very edge of something serious, Kate didn't make her feel judged or defensive. Of course, there is still everything ahead of them. Drifting, yes, but piloting, fighting, living, and all of it together.

Chapter Text

Wiwaxian: the bug-like creatures that emerge from The Breach. They have copper-based blood instead of iron-based, which accounts for the rich blue color. So far the Wiwaxian fall into three subspecies: Razvedchik, Drone, and Kaiju. They are taxonomically categorized by size and exoskeleton makeup. Little is known of their actual intelligence as all attempts of communication with them have failed, but a hivemind was discovered among the Wiwaxian in the late 1980s by SHIELD.

• Leaked WCO Documents (obtained from Reddit, user only has the one post.)

She lingers in front of the Jaeger for some time after Kate leaves, listening to the other woman’s footsteps recede and echo, and eventually fall into silence. In front of her the crew continues to steadily work on the head of Dark Talon. It's nearly meditative, and it keeps her from going back to the dorm room she shares with Kate. She had briefly considered going so far as to go back to her old dorm room, but her phone charger and clock are both in the new one, and it's practically the same looking in the dark anyway. So whatever.

But here, in front of the Jaeger she's so familiar with, even as it's upgraded over the years, she doesn't have to think about that. About Barton, or Kate. And burdenless she finds it's easier, even clinical, to think about them now.

She's made up her mind to go forward with Kate as her partner; this, to her, is non-negotiable. But everything else has to be thought of now. What can she do about Clint Barton in the drift? It wouldn't work for her to ask Kate to simply not bring him into the drift. It's like telling someone not to think about white elephants. Sometimes it can be done, but more often than not the simple act of trying makes it worse.

Just like she told Kate, it's up to themselves to control their reactions. It's what she trained for her whole life. She should be good at this. The high drift sync complicates things, makes it easier for RABITs to flow. So, she constructs a plan: she'll try to clear her mind before drifting. A meditative practice she always loathed, but until she gets used to drifting with Kate it will benefit them both. Then, in her mental schedule to bring them up to speed, if she can extend their drifting time, more drifts for longer, it'll help build her (and Kate’s) ability to tame reactions.

The plan, as loose and vague as it is, does make her feel better.

She leaves the Jaeger, and heads back to the room. Settling in for the night, she notes all the ways this room is different. All of it boils down to Kate: her knick-knacks, books, boxes. Otherwise, everything is the same: standard issue rock-like mattresses, furniture made of particle board or aluminum, and all the fixtures are utilitarian and square shaped. Boring. The rooms had been, in the past, a place for her to lay her head. Seeing all the stuff Kate has with her, even as just things in boxes, a little desire has sprung up like the first warm breeze at the end of winter, to make this more home-y. She's not even sure where she would begin, but in her mind she thinks about colors and textures. What could she bring here to make this place more than what it is, what it has been?

She shakes her head to rid the thought. Just ridiculous. Even her apartment with Natasha had been sparsely decorated, the most personal touch being a sad, dying plant given to them as a housewarming gift that somehow barely lived. Ah, fuck. It's probably dead by now. 

So, she reasons, she can get a little something for the room some time soon. It won't even be a big deal. And it definitely won't be a plant. She weighs each item she thinks of — paintings could be nice, if a bit much. Vases are stupid. Statues and books could be fun. She sighs as she drifts to sleep and knows it will take her a long time to settle on what she wants.

The next morning after breakfast she goes to one of the gyms. It's small, the room designed specifically to facilitate training new drifting partners. She's ready herself, loose sweats and a standard issue tank top. But they'd still spent the night apart, so there is just a small part of Yelena that’s afraid that despite their talk Kate will ultimately decide she can do better.

She feels relieved when the door slides open and in walks Kate Bishop, also wearing clothes to train in.

When Kate catches sight of her (immediately) she grins, and Yelena feels herself pulled into a smile too.

“Kate Bishop.” She says, drawing her name out in greeting.

“Hey!” Kate says, walking up to her, ponytail swaying behind her. “I'm — good morning.” She says, instead of whatever she was going to first say. “So, what're we learning today?” Kate asks, stepping closer to Yelena.

“Well for today I thought we would learn some Jaeger Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. We both have good hand-to-hand combat training, so this should be easier to pick up.” Yelena says, and the class is new for Yelena so she finds the prospect of this new thing a little exciting, small though it may be. She also knows the original trainer worked closely with Natasha, and this style, while good for any lightweight Jaeger (which were few), was designed specifically for the Dark Talon Jaeger. It wasn't uncommon for A-Squad (and some B-Squad) teams to have fighting styles developed specifically for their Jaeger, but she doesn't think Natasha and Clint ever got the chance to really use this one.

She goes to a small console in one of the walls and types in some commands. The AI announces ‘accessing archives’ as a projection turns on.

A translucently blue woman appears at the head of the room and begins to introduce herself in that falsely cheery way that all the recordings do.

“So, it's recommended we warm up first.” Yelena explains, talking over the woman who is giving a very long winded explanation for what Jaeger Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is, how it's been modified for use in a Jaeger, and recommended routines to start with.

They both start warming up with a few practice individual sets, until the AI announces their heart rates are sufficiently high to begin.

The projection walks them through the first move — a simple takedown and pin. They are to each practice it, and hold the pin in place for the five seconds it takes for the electric burst to fully charge.

First they watch the projection show the move, zooming in to show hand and feet placement before they separate and go into their own stances.

“Okay Kate, you have a black belt, right?” Yelena says, putting herself into a stance to run at Kate.

Kate nods. “Yeah, I do.” She also lowers herself into a very professional, very textbook stance. She waves Yelena on, a cocky smile on her face.

Yelena rolls her eyes, as though this were some sort of sparring match instead of training. She runs at Kate, her arm cocked back in a swing so wide a drunk person could dodge it.

Kate grabs Yelena’s wrist, spins her so Kate’s shoulder is firmly planted against her torso, moves her leg behind Yelena’s and pushes — it's a good, swift motion and Yelena lands on her side where Kate continues to move her, pushing her down and holding her in place by her wrist.

Kate holds it for five seconds and lets go.

Yelena gets up, and chuckles. “Okay, very good. Yes, yes AI, we agree. Very textbook. Are you ready for me to put up a fight now? A Wiwaxian won't let you flop them around.”

Kate laughs, “Alright Yelena, bring it on.” She drops back into the stance, looking ready for the next set.

She starts low, as she's seen a Kaiju do many times before. Kate easily sidesteps, and Yelena turns back, going for a grab.

Here is Kate’s opportunity, and she takes it — immediately going for the takedown.

Yelena pushes back, struggling to maintain her upright position as she knows a Kaiju would — by leveraging her weight and strength. 

Kate grunts and resituates herself. The foot that comes around to assist in the takedown is good, meeting Yelena's ankle and hooking around. Kate pushes Yelena down, and Yelena yanks her hand back. It's probably a little too strong and Kate topples over, landing on Yelena’s side with an ‘oof’.

She laughs as she rolls onto her back, poking the exposed skin of Kate’s side. “Kate Bishop, what was that? You're supposed to pin me.”

Kate laughs, the feeling of it sending vibrations from Kate’s body to Yelena’s as she hoists herself up. Yelena grunts as Kate's palm digs into her stomach as she goes.

“That? I feel like I should be asking you.” Kate counters, sitting back onto her knees, face red.

Yelena chuckles and sits up too. “Well, that's how Kaiju fight. Very… hm. How to describe it?” She gives a sharp tsk in thought. “Bestial!” She says with a finger snap.

Kate’s getting to her feet and offers Yelena a hand up. She looks thoughtful. “Can you go through that again? Slower, though? I think I can maneuver it.”

She nods as she lets Kate help her to her feet. “Yes, I can try.” And in her mind she charts the steps she took, tries to think of the ways she could break it down so Kate could adjust.

So now with a plan, Yelena does her best to hold back — more than she already has been, and it ends with Kate huffing, offering Yelena a hand up and saying “Okay, not that easy, I mean c'mon.”

She just sighs. The AI has remained silent, only offering correction on stance and grips. It's a wonder to Yelena that anyone manages to take down any Wiwaxian at all.

“How about we switch places?” Kate offers.

“Sure.” Yelena says, rolling her shoulders and waving Kate on.

Kate nods once, serious now, and she charges at Yelena much like Yelena had her second time, coming low and swinging wide, mimicking the moves pretty well.

Yelena repeats the actions the way she saw them, grab wrist, turn body, hook foot, push, and pin. As she goes she realizes Kate’s issue is her speed. She's got to go faster between the push and pin. This is something that comes either out of practice or desperation.

Kate winds up on the floor and Yelena pulls her wrist behind her back and pins her.

Kate grunts and squirms a little under her, trying to get her legs back under herself.

“Ah-ah-ah.” She tuts, even going so far as to wave a finger of her free hand in front of Kate's eyes. She waits a second and loosens her grip. “Okay, we're good.”

Kate rolls her eyes and takes Yelena's hand up. “You picked that up really fast.”

“Hm. Comes with the territory. What do you say, want a second round of me kicking your ass?” She says, enjoying trying to get a rise out of Kate.

Kate rolls her eyes, easily playing along. “Okay, if this was a real fight I think I'd be doing a lot better.”

Yelena cocks her head to the side. “So why don't we make it one? First one to perform the take down and pin gets to decide what we do in the city.”

The grin Kate fixes her with could light the building. “We can go to the city?”

“Of course, as celebration for getting a Jaeger we get permission to leave base some time next week. Did I not tell you?” Yelena says, clapping her hands together once and pacing to keep her body warmed up and ready to go.

“No!” Kate practically exclaims, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “There's so many places we could go!”

“Well win and take me to them.” Yelena says, going down into the stance. “I won't go easy on you though.”

Kate points. “You're so on!” She gets down into her stance too, and they begin circling each other.

It's just like before when they tested for drift compatibility, but this time there's an undercurrent of tension in the air. (Or, more likely, is noticeable enough to be palpable, thick enough to be nearly distracting, to curiously pluck on that thread and see where it stops.)

Yelena goes in first, not really needing to take time to assess Kate. Instead she goes in for a fast leg sweep. Kate jumps over it, her other hand coming out and grabbing Yelena’s wrist.

Once Kate lands, Yelena yanks Kate closer, “You'll have to do better than that.” She says and shoves her away.

Kate’s cheeks flush and she turns to shoulder Yelena, letting go of her wrist at the last minute.

She moves backwards in an attempt to lessen the impact, but Kate’s long legs do her some good and she turns the check into a tackle, bringing Yelena down to the floor.

Kate straddles Yelena’s hips and juts her eyebrows up and down. “How's that? Better?”

Yelena smiles up at Kate, who’s giving her a cocky smirk. “Much.” With a twist of her hips and a hand on her shoulder she pushes Kate off her. Kate rolls away to keep Yelena from turning the position compromising.

They both spring back to their feet, arms up and ready for the next bout.

Kate comes in close fast, attempting once more to grab her wrist. Yelena tuts again as she escapes her grasp with ease.

“You're going for it too soon, Kate. It's got to be natural, you have to feel it.” She says, stepping into Kate’s space and grabbing her wrist. She doesn't go for the takedown, instead she uses the wrist to guide Kate into a roll.

So roll Kate does, then springs back to her feet and turns. Her face is much more thoughtful, looking Yelena up and down, reassessing the fight before her.

“Have you ever been in a fight, the ‘maybe I'll die from this, so I'll have to kill them first’, fight?” Yelena asks, and she figures the answer is no. People who have been fight like something's wrong with them. But that is how Kaiju fight, with seemingly no other purpose but to kill or be killed.

Kate's shaking her head, eyes flashing as it looks like she will rebuttal — but Yelena uses the information to reform her strategy for this lesson.

“Don't worry, once I perform the takedown on you, you will see what it means to feel it.” Yelena says, hoping to tap into Kate’s clearly competitive personality to fuel her desperation. Then she goes at Kate again, this time swinging wide so she can crowd Kate’s space.

Kate responds in kind, kicking at her knee, and punching at her head — the kick is easily dodged but the fist lands squarely on her jaw, firm enough that she bites down on her lip. Kate steps back, “Oh God, I'm sorr—”

“Don't apologize.” She wipes at her lip, and comes away with blood. She fixes Kate with a grin. “It was very good. More of that!”

Kate’s worry dissolves into determination, she goes at Yelena now, using her kickboxing maneuvers to keep Yelena from being able to reach her while she throws fast, powerful hits. It's much more coordinated and thought out than trying to just go for the take down. Kate is a fast learner.

Yelena catches the third such kick, trapping Kate’s calf between her torso and arm. She lifts up and drags Kate forward before pushing her to the ground. Kate lands with an ‘oof’ and now Yelena straddles her hips. Kate’s body is much warmer than it had been, the exercise making her body overheat.

“How's this, Kate Bishop? Better?” She waggles her eyebrows. Now having a moment to reassess her status, she's fine. She can go for a long time. Kate though is taking purposeful breaths, and her heart rate is elevated. She is in the fight enough now that Yelena thinks she could perform the take down well.

She absently reaches up to wipe at sweat tickling down her temple and Kate bites her lip. Yelena's eye catches on the movement of her jaw, drags lower along her neck and down to the sweat gathering at the place where Kate’s collarbones meet. Her eyes flit back up to Kate's who grins.

Now Kate twists her hips and shoves Yelena off. She rolls away and they both get back to their feet.

Not leaving any time to recover, Kate starts again, taking a page from Yelena's book and crowding her space.

She grabs Kate’s wrist and twists, but Kate turns it around on her, spinning in place and hooking her foot at Yelena’s ankle. As she's going down, she finds that she can bend away, or bring Kate down with her, perhaps even change the direction slightly enough to move into Kate’s body and throw off her balance. Instead she closes her eyes and lets herself finish hitting the floor. Kate’s kneeling over her, the speed between the push and pin is excellent. She's good and pinned but just to be sure she attempts to buck Kate off. A solid grasp, Yelena can tell Kate’s got the maneuver down enough to perform it well. It'll still take a few repetitions for this to come easy to Kate, for her to respond to whatever counters Yelena can think of, and for the fluidity and speed to make it inescapable. This will do for now, though.

After five seconds Kate lets go and as she helps Yelena up, she catches a briefly curious look that’s just fading (a crease between her brows smoothing out), giving way to a broad, cocky smile. “Well! I guess you could call me ‘The Hammer’ with the way I nailed it .”

Yelena laughs and shakes her head. “No. I'm not calling you ‘The Hammer’.”

“No?” Kate says, wiping at her red face with a towel. “Okay, how about, call me im-Press-ive the way I crushed it!”

This was a reach, and they both knew it. Kate by the way her grin turned cheesy and jutted her eyebrows up and down, and Yelena by giving a blank stare. Kate opened her mouth, and to stop whatever worse pun she just thought of, Yelena speaks first: “Yes, yes, fine, very impressive, Kate Bishop.” And even though she meant it to sound sarcastic, she does mean it. Kate hadn't waited for an opening, she'd made her own. Which was besides the point Yelena was trying to teach her, but really that's her own fault. It technically was a good way to fight.

Kate takes a few minutes to wind down, and while she does, Yelena lazily stretches. She absently watches Kate’s back muscles move from stretch to stretch, well defined shoulders rounding and defined nicely through her shirt.

All the while Kate looked thoughtful, and finally after she's done and grabbing her stuff says “Okay, first of all, there's so many places we can visit in the city so you're going to need to give me a list of places you've been to.”

“That's easy. Nowhere.” Yelena says, wiping off the invisible grit from the floor she could feel on her hands.

Kate, who had been lifting a water bottle to her lips, pauses, looking shocked. “Wait, for real? But it's like, right there.”

She shrugs. “And? A city is a city, isn't it? What makes it different from St. Petersburg?”

“Um, well I haven't been to St. Petersburg so I don't think I can really say. But St. Petersburg doesn't have Broadway, right?”

“No, but there's Ruth Eckerd Hall. They put on Broadway performances.” She says, though she thinks the only time a Widow was ever there was to kill someone, so not much enjoyment of the shows was had.

“Right, Broadway performances! The OG is right there!” Kate says, pointing in the wrong direction for the city, face earnestly imploring.

“Bah, okay, Kate. Wow me. Take me somewhere that will convince me, okay?” Yelena says.

“Okay! You're so on.” Kate says with a nod, rising spectacularly (beautifully?) to the challenge as Yelena thought she might. Also she no longer has to plan the trip to the city herself.

Together they head for the exit. And Yelena is okay with this lie of not having been to the city, sure (only a little) that Kate figures it's a lie. But going to a city she's been before with Kate makes it seem like it'll be new and interesting. Besides, it was just a small lie, she only ever really went as a Widow and then later for business. She doubts it will be the same.

Chapter Text

Hemisphere Location: though this is not substantiated in research, many pilots believe that the right side hemisphere control station is the dominant side. 

• Obtained from JaegerFanBlog69, (user has retracted the statement saying “that was a shitpost [sic]”).

The classes are, to Yelena, a little boring. She knows how to do all of the things they're meant to learn, even the emergency ones. But she ought to pay a little bit of attention for Kate’s sake.

Kate's got a Jaeger manual in her hands, one clearly well worn and there are scribbles in the margins. She looks at the page Kate’s turned to, looking at it upside down. It's cockpit blueprints, and she's seemingly making adjustments for how Dark Talon has a different layout, a confused scrunch forming between her eyebrows. Ah, yes. This is technically Kate’s first time seeing the Dark Talon cockpit, a mockup though it is.

Jaegers made within the last seven years have been standardized, and all cockpits match. Dark Talon was made at a time when optimization and copilot comfort wasn't taken into account. It's true Natasha (and Barton, she guesses) have worked with the engineers to make it more streamlined, there are just some things that are very different than whatever Kate trained with.

They're technically early, and so Kate is circling something, mumbling, looking up at the training room's own layouts, then writing a note.

She should say something. Probably. But again she's struck by what she doesn't know about Kate Bishop. Is she nervous? Ridiculously studious? Very thorough? Would a reassurance help?

While yesterday the thought of Kate being a stranger she can get to know was exciting, now she wishes she had the answers.

Luckily before she can form a half-bad plan she’s interrupted by the arrival of their instructor, an older woman who walks them through the basics of cockpit safety first. (She has to laugh. No running in the Drivesuits? Really? At a look she must be wearing the instructor gives a sharp “You are wearing hundreds of thousands of dollars in the most up to date tech, everyone’s a hotshot until they're falling —” and on and on for an additional five minutes that Yelena definitely turns to Kate to roll her eyes about.)

After she finishes this, she has them take their places in their respective hemisphere and begin the powering on sequence. This cockpit isn't hooked up to anything, so most buttons will do little more than light up; but it's a good mockup, she decides.

The class nearly entirely focuses on getting them used to the jargon, where the eject and power re-routing controls are, and the like. It's a little too basic for Kate (and very, very basic for herself), but the instructor promises that it's important set up for the things to come. Which is what Yelena and Kate really need to know — what to do if your copilot gets knocked unconscious, how to operate the escape pods, and (as a Jaeger with a nuclear core) how to shut down the core safely.

As the class wraps up they have free time for a couple of hours before they're set to drift. The forming of common memories is important, the more there are the quicker the drift is to establish and stabilize. Of course, it also increases the drift sync rate, but Yelena isn't worried about that. They're already as high as she's comfortable going.

Unfortunately for today, this together time is them completing medical forms and questionnaires and going under a full physical and mental evaluation with their new medical teams. Which, Yelena does not understand why she has to do it. It's not like anything changed for her these last two years. She didn't even see a doctor in that time, so. It's all very dumb and dull.

The lucky part in this, if it can be called that, is they're so close to the cockpit for their drifting simulation, which is more exciting than all that. So she can look forward to that, and once they wrap up they head to the cockpit and get ready.

Yelena’s hooking up her helmet, watching the relay gel slowly fill the back. She doesn't know scientifically what it does, only that it's supposed to help the interface between the spinal clamps and the helmet; but until it finishes moving her field of view is yellow. She takes this extra minute to breathe, and let her mind run blank as she does so.

Kate next to her brings her hands together in a sort of clap, the sound of it strange in the cloth and metal gloves of their drivesuits. “This time we're going to nail it.”

She smiles because she can't help it, the optimism is infectious, in a way it never was for Yelena before. Is it Kate? Or is she a different person now? The prospect of drifting, of sharing, and being excited about it, the Yelena of even five years ago would've laughed at anyone who suggested it.

The AI begins the countdown, ending in “handshake initiated”.

As the drift begins around them, they're pulled into each other’s mind like a gentle tide — Kate’s relaxed, and then pleased that she’s relaxed.

Then she's seeing an older man with a well kept goatee, and a smile wide enough that it crinkles his eyes. He's bending down and swinging a young Kate Bishop into the air. The memory is tinged with fondness and that distant air of sadness.

With an “ohhh!” He bends down, setting Kate down, and sits on the damp grass.

“You said we would get ice cream after if we won, and we won .” Kate says matter-of-factly.

“I did!” Derek agrees. “But it's too late, kiddo! I'm already sitting down and now I'm stuck here forever.”

Kate grabs his arm, trying to pick it (and him) up, but only succeeding in lifting his arm into the air.

Derek holds up both arms, which Kate grabs, “C’mon Kate, lift with both hands! I'll never get up without you!”

She laughs as she tries to pull him up, straining and pulling and walking backwards. Derek moved from sitting to standing.

“Ah! See? You're all muscle!” He reaches a hand over and ruffles her hair, and any annoyance Kate may have felt gives way easily to delighted laughter when she shoves his hand away and he acts burned.

The pair walk to a car and driver, Derek promising her five whole scoops of ice cream when they get there.

Kate is easily (obviously) pleased, clapping her hands and skipping through the air as they go, imagining all the scoops she’s going to get — strawberry, orange dreamsicle, cotton candy, tutti fruity, and mixed berry with rainbow sprinkles and raspberry syrup. A fruity sweet concoction that makes perfect sense for Kate, and adult Kate is suddenly craving ice cream.

It's a beautiful memory. And it's easily chased by one of her own.

“A farm?” Yelena is saying, her nose crinkled in disgust. “With the pigs and manure and everything?”

She's looking at a smirking Natasha, who just sends a flippant shrug. “Yeah, that's what she said. The whole nine yards. Actually it's like, twenty acres, but whatever.”

“And Alexei is going with her?” Yelena asks, confusion and incredulousness mounting. “But he loves his food delivery and scheduled trash pick up.”

“Right?” Natasha laughs. “I give it a month before he drives Melina crazy and she chases him out with a shotgun.”

Yelena eyes her, and decides: “You're giving them too much credit. Two weeks.”

The smirk Natasha has takes on a mischievous tilt. “How about we bet.”

“Okay, how much?” Yelena asks. She's squirrelled enough money away at this point that she's not afraid of Natasha’s usually exorbitant (and downright ridiculous) bets.

“Winner gets to give a haircut to the other with the Jaeger.” Natasha says.

The pair breaks into laughter immediately, this was the stupidest and most dangerous wager to date. And yet they shake on it anyway.

 The drift sync stabilizes and the AI announces “Drift sync stabilized, 96%.”

Kate and Yelena share a grin and with the stability they're now able to let the RABITs fade and become background things. This was the other issue with new drifters, it was very hard to pay attention to piloting a Jaeger when random thoughts and memories interrupt, especially when they're not your own. But it gets easier with time and practice.

Right now Kate’s thoughts are bounding around, conjuring images in rapid fire.

First: A couple of cartoon men fist-bumping.

Second: The word ‘Awesome!’ in blocky, neon colors with three exclamation points.

Third: a rocket launching into space, the spectacle is incredible and perhaps played up in the mind (colorful, flaring fire — billowing, dark smoke in contrast).

Throughout: Kate’s feeling giddy on the wings of success, thoughts buoyant and free-flowing. If Yelena were to have more time to dig deeper she thinks she can name the tinges of emotion that color the background of these thoughts. Right now this is too quick and fleeting, so it passes before she can do more than feel the force of it as Kate reigns herself in.

Conclusion: Obviously, Kate is feeling good. Even though the images themselves mean little to Yelena until she thinks about them, she gets it after a couple seconds of parsing through it all.

But, this is what all this practice drifting is for — to get used to the way each other’s brains think. 

Kate’s amusement crashes into the drift. She’s thinking about how Yelena systematically processed her thoughts just now, so there is some mild confusion too.

“What?” Yelena says. “That was like a picture book with no words.”

Kate laughs. “Okay, I can see that.” Her face scrunches. “I can't be the most confusing person to drift with it, can I?”

“No, no, no.” She says, picturing the people she has drifted with. Some were scatterbrains, thoughts going in a million directions at once, nearly instantly. She pictures it now for Kate, who grimaces.

“Okay, I'm not that bad.” And she pantomimes wiping some sweat from her brow. “Thank God.”

“Mm. Shall we proceed to the next part?”

Kate nods enthusiastically.

For now they work on moving, walking in step together, the screen in front of them projects a wooded area they move through. In the practice drifts to come they'll simulate fighting Razvedchiks, Drones, and Kaiju. But for this session they’re just walking. The treadmill beneath them is surprisingly heavy, which helps them account for how hard it can be to move the Jaeger.

Another RABIT surfaces, this one stronger as Kate’s elation becomes infectious and draws a grin onto Yelena’s face. It's hard to ignore, and even harder to resist, so she lets the sensation fill her, letting it soothe the little pains that always come from remembering the dead.

Luckily the strong emotion is just tied to having ‘made it’, the thoughts filling the drift are the wisps of things, like a camera shutter in fast motion. Kate receiving her acceptance letter to the JPA. Kate graduating from the academy. Kate being accepted into the Jaeger program. Kate excitedly texting her friends of the news. Shuffled into these memories Yelena sees herself, the briefest clip: lips upturned like she knew a secret held in her mouth by amusement alone, eyes flitting about Kate’s face, Kate afraid she'd seen too much of her in even that glance (too headstrong, desire running too deeply), their hands meeting for a quick one-two handshake and “Nice to officially meet you,” , and finally, Fury signing the paperwork that made Kate’s promotion official, a glimmer of pride shining in his eye.

Yelena feels herself tucking the memories away, there's so much background emotion in them, and it was all nearly too quick for her to discern. The progress they've made so far easing the hard things: fear in that moment she opens the Jaeger Program letter, stress over academy finals.

These RABITs fade, and Yelena practices for Kate — the way to let the thought slip through the mind without catching, so they don't go off on tangents together — RABITs feeding RABITs. Good thoughts and memories are easy and fun; it's true one could get lost in them, the temptation is just as possible as anything else. But for these good ones, it's clearly not a problem for Kate, and has never been a problem for herself.

Right now there's no stressors or surprises laying in wait in the simulation, ones meant to train and test their ability to maintain control of the drift.

That will change in the days to come, a lot sooner than Yelena initially thought based on how well today is going so far. The high drift sync means it's much easier for them to walk in step, to move together, and Kate is a fast learner to boot. Everything will come easier, and all the real challenges will lie in the RABITs and maintaining their connection in the drift.

Yelena, curious about how long it may take them to do this, presents Kate with the mental image of a more complicated move set. The Jaeger rolling: jump, twist, catch with palms, push up (to prevent the head and cockpit within from crashing into the ground), and pop back up on two feet. Kate immediately affirms she wants to try, Kate showing her memories of practicing exactly this in JPA. 

In the cockpit it looks different — their feet are locked to the treadmill so they aren't thrown around in a fight, so instead of rolling themselves they move their body through the motions of a jump and go through the rest (arms up, push, lean forward, adjust footing to land) but they remain upright all the while. It's one of the more awkward moves to perform in a Jaeger, and most people struggle with the disconnect of motions. But they go through the roll together successfully the first time, watching on the displays as the Jaeger lands back on its feet. If they were in the real world, they would feel the gravity shift as the cockpit goes upside down, something this training doesn't capture. But Kate is excited they've done so well the first time, and she's picturing doing it in the Jaeger instead of walking, in her mind she's summoned some kind of video game, and Kate controls the character to jump and roll the whole time instead of walking or running.

Yelena laughs. “That is a terrible idea. We will be all crazy and dizzy when we get to the Kaiju.” Not to mention the J-Tech crew will probably kill them for the way it'll scuff and damage the back plate.

Kate laughs too, “Okay, spoilsport. I guess we don't have to. Want to do that again though?”

And so they do, they do it a few more times in rapid succession, getting the feel for how to do it, how to stick the landing and reorient themselves. This is the good reason they don't feel the gravity shift, it at least means they can do this over and over.

“Right?” Kate agrees. And she's now picturing all the movements she learned, practicing in class and also the privacy of her room: jumps, side rolls, sprints, full stops, turns, twists, slides. What they teach at the JPA is good for general Jaegers, so as they practice these maneuvers there is compensating needing to be done.

It's an interesting mix, and Yelena can see that Kate is an extremely visual thinker, she presents each motion she wants to do in vivid, rapid detail. It definitely helps Yelena understand what she’s wanting to do.

This makes the two hour practice fly by, before they know it they’re needing to disconnect so the room can be recalibrated for another team. She cannot wait for them to officially move to A-Squad, one of its many perks is their own practice room. Internally Kate cheers at the thought.

In Yelena’s mental schedule they will ramp up quickly until they should be able to drift for hours together. A standard patrol is 90 minutes, and what if they’re asked to deploy to a fight right at the end? They'll need to be good to go for longer than two hours. So coupled with that and training Kate’s fighting instincts she thinks they will easily be A-Squad ready in a month and a half.

“Really?” Kate says, looking pleased as they disconnect from the Drivesuit. “Wow, that's so soon! Even training for B-Squad they said it'd take months.”

Yelena bends down to lace up her regular boots. In the drift, Kate becomes appraising and appreciative for a few seconds worth of distraction, and Yelena herself feels her own amusement growing over this — she has to move them on, so continues: “You're not B-Squad material, Kate Bishop. Didn't we discuss this?”

Kate grins, still easily pleased as an adult. But now Kate is excitedly thinking about the next attack, how that timeframe puts her as ready to assist.

‘Of course', you didn't think this was arbitrary, did you?’ Yelena thinks.

‘Oh fuck, wait,’ Kate thinks, looking sheepishly at Yelena. ‘You didn't overhear —’

‘You admiring my backside when I bent down? No, I didn't hear that, could you repeat it?’ She sends Kate a smirk.

Kate flushes and goes back to detaching the chest piece. ‘You're hilarious, Yelena Belova. But the attack is going to be worse than they’re saying, isn't it?’

‘Yes. Category 3, astronomers have named the Kaiju “Striker”. No sign of Drones or Razvedchiks yet, but it's only a matter of time. Fury wants all hands on deck.’ Yelena thinks, trying to inject as much blandness into her statement as possible, mostly because doesn't want to overwhelm Kate with her own thoughts and feelings on the matter.

Kate’s face pinches. ‘Um, wow. Category 3 already? Yikes, that's not good.’

‘No it's not. Assaulting The Breach two years ago must have pissed something off in there.’ Yelena thinks, carefully skirting everything to do with the assault as she stands up straight and drapes a towel over her shoulder.

‘So why’s Fury downplaying the attack?’ Kate asks, grabbing her bag.

‘Because it's set to land in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, so he thinks we should have no civilian casualties. He said, something like “We have who we have, Belova, there's not going to be a miracle just because we need one.”’ She gestures for Kate to go ahead first.

Kate laughs at Fury’s statement. ‘Fine, I guess that makes sense. Like, we can't make more people appear. But still.’ And as they head back to their room Yelena can feel the way Kate hates feeling misled, especially by someone she's meant to trust.

Now alone in the halls, Yelena says, “That's exactly my thinking; but I believe all of A-Squad knows and will be there, even the super powered Avengers. So really he thinks that's everyone who needs to know.”

Kate just sighs. “Yeah, alright. And he thinks it's cool we can join the fight even though we've never fought with them before?”

“It won't be ideal for sure, but yes we're expected to join the fight.” Yelena says, and unwittingly Kate's hit the little thing that bothers the back of her mind, and has been since she started seriously considering training with Kate.

Kate frowns. “And what's that?”

“Nothing. Probably. Just a specter of the past.” Yelena says, waving the concern away.

As they return to their room Kate starts unpacking again, not a drop of excitement lost as she does so, picking up exactly where she left off last night.

Yelena watches from her bed in faint amusement as Kate fills the room with posters, figurines, and magazines of Dark Talon, some of these signed by Clint and Natasha (likely in some kind of mass produced way, she remembers Natasha complaining of just such things, wrist sore of signing a hundred posters, or some such thing). Each time Jaeger merch finds a home she sends Yelena an amused glance, waiting for the jab or protest; Yelena doesn't do it yet, instead deciding she will rib Kate for this at the right time. She can admit this mostly isn't for altruistic reasons: if she upsets Kate she will feel it while they ghost drift. Though how much this reason is for her and not Kate is… well she won't linger on that. Not right now.

Kate’s also piled books of all genre onto bare shelves, and brings warmth and personality into the room with the various knick-knacks and decorations. The Dark Talon merch is joined by bands, movies, and other things Yelena doesn't recognize. Some items bear the marks and fading color of age, proof that the things Kate loves lasts with her. Kate’s enjoyment of personalizing the space is shared with Yelena in the drift, and Yelena lets herself bask in it like a cat in a spot warmed by the sun, until finally the connection breaks and she's left with the ghost of her own amusement.

Yelena does note that Kate seems to leave random walls bare, a few shelves empty, and some surfaces untouched. Instead she opts to put things together, risking overcrowding in some areas. She points to one such empty shelf and raises a questioning brow.

“Oh! Uh,” Kate’s now nervous, like she's been caught. “Well, I didn't want to take up the whole room, y'know? What if there's some stuff you want to put around?”

There’s a stab of something in her chest, of the seemingly careful forethought Kate’s put into this already, even though Yelena has not planned anything so specific beyond her little thoughts on this the other night. She doesn't know exactly what to say, isn't sure how deep the emotions will be, so instead she just grunts and says, “Don't be ridiculous, I already unpacked all my stuff.”

“Okay. That's alright! And I'm going to bring you to some awesome places in the city, you might want some souvenirs! So,” Kate says, gestures vaguely to the empty shelves, then goes back to rearranging some books now by title and author.

Yelena gives a surprised laugh. “You are so sure of yourself.”

Kate shrugs, “And I have good reason to be! I grew up there. Well you know that. But… okay!” She turns in place to fully face Yelena, enthusiasm renewed (if it's ever even far out of reach to begin with for Kate, Yelena gets the feeling it isn't), “So you've never been, right? Do you want to do the whole touristy thing? Like, you know, Times Square, which is a little trashy but you gotta go to it once, and um. Oh! The Empire State Building and new Statue of Liberty. Tourists love those.”

Yelena hums in thought, it's been a long time since she's been to the city, knows things are bound to be different, but never did get the opportunity to do any touristy things when she was there anyway. “Do you?”

Kate sits on the desk chair with enough force for it to spin her around once and be stopped by her foot when she's facing Yelena again. “Um I guess I don't really care one way or the other. Besides, this isn't my trip to the city.”

“No, it's ours.” Yelena says, sitting up in her bed.

Kate smiles, “Well in that case we'd go to a dog park.”

“Okay, lead with that next time!” Yelena says, the prospect of seeing a bunch of dogs in one place is very nice. The Shatterdome doesn't allow pets of any kind, and she finds this new idea exciting.

“Okay, well there are dog c—” Kate’s mouth closes with enough force her teeth clack together. She grins and her eyes crinkle, reminding Yelena of the father from Kate’s drifting memories. It looks just the same. “I just got the best idea!”

Yelena gestures for Kate to continue, “Well? Don't leave me in suspense!”

Kate zips her mouth shut and throws away the key. “Nope! It'll be a surprise. I promise you'll love it!”

Yelena lays back in bed to spare Kate the full strength of the pout that threatens to take hold. “Ugh, Kate Bishop!”

A piece of crumpled paper is tossed at Yelena, hitting her square in the forehead. She looks up at Kate who is looking innocently up and away, as though someone else could’ve done this. When Kate does look her way, the grin she gives is mischievous.

Yelena matches the grin. “Kate,” her tone is warning, threatening.

“Yes, Yelena?” Kate says, twiddling her thumbs, her expression has gone back to innocent.

She narrows her eyes and holds up the paper. “I think you get one hit. Just one. After that? You'll live to regret it.”

Kate’s faux-innocent smile shifts into something a little more sharper, eyes glinting, expression a little more knowing. “Is that so?”

Yelena squints, squeezing the paper in her fist, compressing the part in her grip. “Yes. Don't you know? Us Black Widows are dangerous.”

The confident smirk Kate gives, pretty though it is, is unearned in this matter, Yelena decides. “Oh? I haven't heard that one.”

“Well then, I'll just have to show you, won't I?” Yelena says, getting to her feet and lazily walking to the trash bin where she deposits the paper, but it also gets her right next to Kate.

Kate looks up and gives a hum with a tilt of her head, curious and unwittingly naive. “I guess so.”

“Be careful, Kate Bishop.” She says, leaning over Kate, enjoying the way her cheeks flush from the proximity. “Be very, very careful what you wish for.”

Kate’s head tilts up, in an almost daring way, even as her smile turns into a thing of want and her eyes flit to Yelena’s lips. “Why? Will I get it if I do?”

Yelena gives a soft laugh, reaches a single finger out to gently graze Kate’s jawline. Kate’s flush deepens. “Maybe so.”

Kate swallows.

Before Kate can say (or do) anything, Yelena straightens up and drops her hand back to her side. “Well, it's bedtime. We have an early day tomorrow.”

She walks back to her bed and flops down. When she looks over she sees Kate is even more flushed and smirks at her.

Kate laughs easily. “You're kind of an asshole.” She says, getting up and turning off the light. “Is that the danger of a Black Widow?”

Yelena laughs and she hears Kate hop up into the bunk above her. Her eyes adjust to the dark room, the small glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand gives everything a slightly reddish hue, and she can finally make out the shapes and lumps of the items around the room. She can see the to-scale figure of Dark Talon on the desk, it's shadowy figure looms over the cup of writing utensils.

“I have a question for you.” Yelena says, voice hushed. She's reminded of a sleepover Melina and Alexei let her have (after months of begging and promises to do all her chores and eat all her vegetables), not too long before everything went horribly wrong for her. The other young girl (Maddie? Mary?) who slept over had laid with her in the living room and they'd talked in hushed tones then too.

“Shoot.” Kate says.

“How'd you get Clint Barton as your mentor? I mean, clearly you're a fan. But I didn't think he'd take on a protégé.” She asks, staring up at the wooden slats.

Kate rolls over, the bed frame squeaking as she goes, and the silhouette of her head pops down to peer at her. “Okay, it's a little ridiculous.”

She turns onto her side and props herself up on her elbow to better face Kate. “I'd be more surprised if it wasn't ridiculous.” She says, and she briefly tries to imagine Kate seeing Clint in a diner somewhere and joining him at his table until he agreed to take her on. Kate's persistent enough, she supposes, but right from the get-go of meeting Kate, she's learned she's the sort of person who gets into Situations with a capital ‘S’.

“Well, okay, so I learned my mom was working with the mob, which is a whole other thing.” Kate’s tone takes on a slightly pinched sound there, and she quickly moves on. “But anyway, I was trying to figure out how to pin down the guy in charge, and I ended up running into Clint at their warehouse. It was pretty funny, actually. He said he was pretending to be caught by them. But I think he was playing it cool. I ended up rescuing him and it was a whole thing.”

“Wow. That is ridiculous.” She says after a moment of absorbing the story. She's not sure what she wants to comment on first — did Kate manage to pin down the person in charge? Also ruining Hawkeye’s catch and release is very funny to her, not to mention Kate did well enough to get them both out. (Then, what she figured was a sore spot for Kate, her mother — they both have these wounds they are trying to hide from each other, don't they? She has, unfortunately, been as obvious about it as Kate has been). “How'd you get out of it?”

Kate’s grin is illuminated by the red of the clock, reflecting warmly to her. “Okay, well here's where it gets crazy.” And Kate goes back to laying in her bed as she regales her with a story about how she picked up Hawkeye’s bow and quiver and used some trick arrows (sonic, expanding foam, and something called a Pym arrow), took out thirty guys (was this an embellishment?), and drove them to a hideout. “Well, technically, we ubered there. But anyway, that was that, he was basically super impressed and decided to take me under his wing! It definitely helps that I'm the World’s Greatest Archer.”

“The World’s Greatest, eh?” She says. “And is there any weight to this claim?”

Kate’s offended face reappears over the edge of the bed frame. “It's not a claim. I was scouted for the Olympics! But I was on a very tight graduation schedule, and I basically had everything I wanted already lined up so it would just be a distraction at that point.”

She laughs, delighted at the idea of the Olympics being a distraction . “I'm sorry, what ? That simply can't be true.” Unable to help the ribbing even though she's 95% sure Kate wouldn't lie about this.

Kate's offended frown turns into a pout as she retreats back to her bunk. “Okay, you don't believe me.” Her voice sounds resolute and she's once again back to confident and cocky. “I'll simply just have to show you, then.”

“Yes, I suppose you will.” Yelena agrees.

Chapter Text

Modesty Reflex: there are several events that can cause the neural bridge to collapse, and each requires the pilot’s training to overcome. One such event is a Modesty Reflex, which is thoughts and/or memories of sex, intimacy, and even arousal can cause the pilot to reflexively attempt to end the drifting.

• Jaeger Pilot Academy Handbook (pg. 187, published 2017).

As the pair goes to sleep that night, Yelena allows herself to get caught on their earlier drifting session. There's a certain depth to Kate and Yelena isn't sure she's found the bottom. Where does Kate begin and end? This has been her new pass time since she started drifting with Kate, the curiosity and newness making it compelling. 

In the heavy late night darkness, she can imagine herself alone, if not for the lightly snoring Kate Bishop above her. It allows for her to conjure the memories and emotions again, impress their images onto the faux wood grain slats above her head to examine them in more detail, and add them to the growing list of Things She Knows About Kate Bishop.

There were times, drifting with the A-Squad, or other Widows, when she felt like she understood the whole of them. And that made drifting predictable, easy. Many people had hidden depths, it wasn't that special. In fact it was the rare few that were exactly who they appeared to be below the surface. She has trouble placing Kate, because she could easily place her in the latter category. And yet, there's always more to discover, like a light hitting a cut gem from the right angle and capturing a new facet and splash of color. Kate doesn't seem to hide who she is. Not like Yelena. But all the same she knows it will take some time to figure the woman out.

And so, here she lays, listening to Kate’s breathing even out and deepen as sleep takes her, pondering her new life partner. Here are the facts, as she understands them:

1. Kate is cocky, funny, people-pleaser, exuberant, and thoughtful.
2. She has risen to every challenge, self-appointed or no.
3. Her father has died a long time ago and she misses him terribly.
4. Her mother did not want her to join the Jaeger Program. Something about the mob, too? What's up with that?
5. She spent some time before the Jaeger Program hunting down the head of the mob.
6. She did this with Clint Barton.
7. She likes Clint Barton. Ugh.
8. She's a black belt in a few martial arts, and probably a talented archer.
9. Her life's dream is now achieved: Co-Pilot to Dark Talon in training, with just a month and a half to go before being deployed to fight the big fight.

This is it. Nine facts. Well, clearly there's more,  details like school, being wealthy, and whatever, but all those seem like the sort of thing that incidentally are part of Kate, she supposes, more than they are the things that define her. But she's going to have to do some digging of her own, she thinks, to learn and verify. But how to do this? Where to start? Her old bunkmates are a good possibility. From the little looking she's done on her own, Kate doesn't shy away from social media either. There is also all the things Kate will give away in the drift too.

But, social media is easier, she decides. She'll start there, maybe later in the day after drifting.

As Kate rouses that morning, Yelena slips out of bed to shower. She starts the water running and lets it get nice and warm. In another time she would've simply gone in without care for temperature or self, but she enjoys that this little wait can bring something pleasurable.

Kate knocks on the door, voice still laced with sleepiness, “Hey! Rude! What if I have to use the bathroom?”

Yelena laughs loud enough for Kate to hear and steps out of her clothes and into the shower. “Feel free to come in then, Kate Bishop!” She calls.

Silence greets her.

“Don't tell me you haven't trained your Modesty Reflex? We will see each other’s lives in the drift. We will see—”

The bathroom door opens, revealing a Kate who’s still dragging an uncoordinated hand through her hair, “Okay, I get it.” Kate says, annoyed, likely by the slight condescending tone she had more than anything she actually said.

“Great, the sooner we get comfortable with each other, the better.” Yelena says, letting the water soak her hair. She's struck by the sensation that it's too long, too much — she hasn't cared about the length of her hair, not any more than anything else anyway. Now she finds herself thinking a change might be nice, something new and interesting.

“I did train for the Modesty Reflex, by the way.” Kate responds, pulling Yelena back to the present. “If anything you should be warned. I did have a few partners in college and the academy and we tried a lot of stuff.”

“Oh? Alright, Kate Bishop! With your looks I should have guessed.” Yelena peers around the shower curtain to throw Kate an overly exaggerated lecherous look.

Kate raises a brow and, with a cheeky smirk, flushes the toilet.

“Kate Bishop!” She says loudly, cursing as the water pressure drops. “You're so dead for that.”

Kate laughs now, a loud, annoying thing as she washes her hands and leaves the room.

This is a horribly short sighted escape, considering she lives with her. But Yelena can be patient. She can plan her revenge.

For now though, it's just day two of living together and Yelena decides it'll be a good day, if only to offset the intensity of everything that's already happened.

This, of course, doesn't last as Kate apologetically tells her that she's going to miss breakfast since her individual training is with Clint this morning and it always goes over.

Which is fine, truly, Kate’s excited to do this by the sparkle in her eyes — something about First Official Hawkeye Jaeger Training which she imagines involves learning how to tell really annoying Dad jokes (that Natasha always enjoyed), or new bow and arrow techniques (his Avenger past time she simply can't make sense of), and she doesn't take time to imagine Clint anywhere doing anything. In fact she goes out of her way to avoid thinking of him whenever possible, so she can't imagine what kinds of useful things Clint is showing Kate.

But, as she sits and ruminates on her unkind thoughts, she had promised (herself mostly, but on behalf of Kate) that she would try and think a little better of the man. Which, right now, the best she could do was stop thinking about him.

So she gets up and decides to go into her own individual training — an advanced meditation course designed for drifting. Individual training offered to Jaeger teams were all designed to help further their Jaeger piloting, so there wasn't anything exciting for her to take.

She goes through exactly seven minutes of sitting in the dimly lit training room before she decides that's about as much as she'll ever get from it and exits the AI Program leading her through it.

The issue, she reasons, is she doesn't need some computer telling her how to breathe and intoning her resting heart rate or whatever. She can do this in the comfort of her bed tonight. She'd thought — she's not sure, she hasn't drifted in a while, she had a worry she might be… out of touch with it. With someone new. But, she thinks, it's new for Kate too. It'll be new and different together and isn't that the point? In retrospect this was very stupid of her.

Having successfully reasoned her way out of this, she opens up Twitter on her phone. It takes her all of two seconds to find Kate Bishop and what she sees is… interesting to her, if only for the ways it's completely boring. It looks like Kate has carefully curated her profile, so it’s professional, and the boringness is purposeful. Very interesting. She wonders if she's got a separate, more private account. That would take a lot more digging than she wants to do from her phone.

She goes to Instagram next. There she finds things more in line with what she thought she'd find — group photos with friends, posing in front of all kinds of things (movie posters, people, attractions), and finally, one that has her nearly drop her phone: a post-workout Kate in form fitting gym clothes. Her grin is wide and she's throwing a peace sign. What really captures her attention is the set of abs the crop top reveals; Kate’s got some beautiful definition, skin pulled taut over muscle and there’s a shiny sheen of sweat on every bit of exposed skin. Yelena’s mouth feels dry and her face heats. She takes two unsteady breaths and focuses on the weapon rack across the room to calm down.

The rest of her mild snooping doesn't reveal much. Kate takes care to tag people and events, but it's like she carefully builds her online presence to be both unassuming and social at once, not revealing much personal information. To all the world she appears as a gregarious and adventurous young woman. 

She doesn't even post about her mother being jailed, this she only learns by seeing news articles on it. Kate hasn't said anything to her, hasn't thought of it in the drift at all. Maybe Kate is less an open book than she initially thought. Or, perhaps, is just very good at selectively presenting information — too much of unimportant things that the important ones are left in the background.

She spends a little longer than she planned on the impromptu snooping, and she's mostly learned if she wants to know more about Kate it will take more than what she's currently doing. So closing her phone she leaves the training room for breakfast.

This day, of course, can't manage to stay on track. As soon as she gathers her food and sits, the assistant to the A-Squad runs up to her. Meredith? Marian! She looks stressed and Yelena decides this is probably just a part of her look.

“Rang— Belyena— sorry. Yelena!” She puffs out a breath, face red. “The Director requests your immediate presence in his office.”

She raises a brow. “Alright then.” She scoops a purposeful bite of her yogurt and eats it, maintaining eye contact with Marian.

The woman’s face somehow gets redder, then she excuses herself and hurries away.

It can't be that big of a deal, he sent Marian and not say, his own assistant, or even someone who could (hilariously) try and pull a rank on her. So she finished her meal and contemplates being really annoying and doing some other tasks instead of going to the Director.

But if she continues to put it off she will start eating into her training time with Kate and that sounds even more annoying, on top of the fact that she already has a good idea what the meeting will be about (which is very, very annoying) and would rather get it over with. So she takes the winding halls to Fury’s office.

She arrives within a few minutes. Say what you will about Fury, he hasn't spared himself any kind of big, intimidating office space, opting to take something that’s altogether average. The few times she's seen it, the desk was nearly always piled high with files and books. She knows when she goes in she will see no different. She gives the door a quick knock.

“Enter.” Fury’s even tone calls from inside.

She opens the door to see him bent over a huge file sitting open in front of him that he's clearly reviewing. She shuts the door and sits in a chair across from him as he crosses something out on a paper and makes a note in the margin.

“Belova,” He says, setting the pen down and leaning back in his chair. He looks tired, worn, years of planning supplies and schedules having their toll. “Status report.”

Yelena cocks her head to the side and purses her lips. “Like of the whole building?”

He gives a single, somewhat toneless laugh. “How's the training going with Ranger Bishop?”

“Oh, great, great. We're on track to being ready to pilot Dark Talon within a month and a half. You would know this if you read Dottie's reports.” she folds her hands together over her lap, not even bothering to hide the annoyed twist to her words or face.

“That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” He pulls out another file, she recognizes Dottie’s neat, blocky handwriting from here. Fury flips over the cover and reads a section out loud. “ Following the SOP for Jaeger Co-Pilot Training Week One .”

“That's right.” She says, keeping her tone even, wanting him to spell it out to her.

“I guess I'm just a little confused, Belova. This would put Ranger Bishop on track to be only a little more useful in the field than the turkeys in D-Squad. We need her to be A-Squad material by the time that Kaiju touches down.” He flips the file closed but leaves it in front of him.

“Hm. It's your own program, Director. I can give you notes on improvements, if you like.” She says, watching his eye carefully, but his face doesn't change. And she wants to scoff, to tack on defenses for Kate Bishop, that he's underestimating her, that the things they have on file for her don't do her any justice. But the work they will do for this month and a half will speak for itself. 

Director Fury leans forward, hands folding together on top of his desk. “I can understand your hesitation at using the drift to teach her. But at this point —”

“The Black Widow Program is closed. For good.” Yelena says, her tone icy and she leans forward too, a finger tapping at the desk, her temper rising despite seeing this coming. “And I will not be doing anything like that.”

The look they share is tense. His assessing and calculating, her’s daring. Clearly he's got used to Natasha’s… well if not nicer, then more team oriented approach to squashing the program. She is not Natasha. What wouldn't she do to ensure it stays down? She makes sure she conveys this intent in everything — body language, face, tone.

Besides which, there are no other pilots for the Dark Talon Jaeger (none he will be able to find), certainly no other people in the building that would measure up to herself and Kate, even if they had all the time in the world to practice. So they will train the way she wants them to or not at all.

“I would never suggest that level, Belova.” Fury says, his head shaking. “You and I both know you can do it without going to that extreme.”

Yelena leans back, not even bothering to contain an eye roll. “I won't do it.” She hates repeating herself, hates more that she finds it necessary to do so now, with Fury. He must be really desperate. But she's thinking of the joy that Kate has with every new step they're taking to learning to be co-pilots together. No matter the reasoning Fury has to suggest it, she won't budge.

Fury lets the silence stretch for a second, his eye darting around her face. He gives a single nod. “Fine. But consider talking to her about it. We don't have the luxury of time and I need as many people at the top of their game as I can get.”

She leaves with only a curt goodbye, a sour mood brewing over the exchange. The more she thinks about it the angrier she gets, and she's got to get herself together. So she takes the long way around to her training with Kate, letting herself think a litany of curses toward Fury as she goes.

Just outside the door she takes a steadying breath. She's not going to let this soil their drifting. That conversation is going to get buried in her mind for later, she decides. It'll go with all the other memories of the Black Widow Program, where they can't sully Kate’s enjoyment (or her own) of the drift.

“Hey!” Kate greets her as soon as she enters, her eyes scrutinizing as she takes in Yelena’s carefully neutral face. “And I thought I was going to be late. Well, I was, but so are you.”

She shakes her head, letting an amused smile fall into place, instead of explaining anything she goes for being a little needling. “And that excuses things?”

“Well yeah, it's like for college, you know? You're not late if the teacher’s not.” Kate says, and Yelena feels relief that Kate decides to not question her lateness further, has no idea what kind of lie she could pull off right now.

“The teacher is always here.” She points to the AI, which is currently not on. “So I guess we're both late.”

Kate huffs. “Okay, well, no offense to Ada, but it's not like, a person, so I don't think that counts.” Now she hesitates, eyes darting to the AI platform. “Right? Are you a person, Ada?”

The AI lights up, the signature translucent blob forming over its platform, “Hello, Ms. Bishop. I am an advanced digital assistant network and command processing system, here to assist the Shatterdome with the learning and piloting of Jaegers. I am not a person, thank you for asking.”

“Oh! That's where the name Ada comes from. Alright, cool.” Kate says.

“It has a name?” Yelena asks, walking closer to the center of the room. “I've just been calling it the AI.”

“I will answer to AI, Ms. Belova.” the AI states, voice artificially cheerful and friendly.

“Ugh, okay, great, thank you. Can you bring up session two of Jaeger Brazilian Jiu Jitsu?” Yelena says, waving a hand and spurring the AI on. Computers shouldn't be trying to get chummy with her, it was weird.

“Bringing up session two.” The AI says, and the both of them warm up for their next session.

The whole time they practice a new throw and roll, and Yelena finds the physical exercise helps to push things out of her mind. It's only once they're done that the thoughts come creeping back.

Now back in the comfort of their room, Yelena focuses on the tablet she unearthed, and knows immediately that she made a mistake looking at it. While Yelena got to be a B-Squad trainer, her main reason for sticking around after the A-Squad was trained up was not anyone but Natasha was aware of. Her sister made sure the Black Widow Program stayed in the past for the WCO, and Yelena took a more clandestine path: keeping tabs on Shatterdome programs and scientists for anything that so much had a whiff of unsavoriness. Only twice in all her time here did she have to forward on the names of scientists to Antonia to deal with.

Since she's retired, there's some catching up to do, and the data is hidden away on a tablet not dissimilar to this very one. Not to mention there’s the flicker of shame at having left the mission she promised her sister she would help do. But it doesn't spur her desire to do the work, instead she finds she wants to do it less. It will compromise her ability to drift cleanly with Kate.  She knows that she'll have to tell Kate eventually. She won't be able to hide anything forever, in fact the more they drift the more likely it is that she reveals things. But it's nice like this, right now, for Kate to have the freedom to explore drifting with her (and for Yelena to experience it second hand from Kate), without any of those sordid things weighing her down. She wonders when and how Natasha talked to Clint about it. Did she dramatically reveal it all in the drift? Talk about it in the privacy of their room? While their relationship was still fresh and new? Or when it gained some traction, made it harder for Barton to be scared off? She wishes she could ask her now, to help guide her through this with Kate.

This is not good. Instead of bringing something else to her mind she's just thinking about it more. Sloppy. Very sloppy. She leans back in the chair far enough that she can just catch sight of Kate lounging on her bed.

“Kate.” She says finally.

Kate looks over at her and sets down her phone. “Yes?”

“This is all very boring.” She gestures to a tablet in front of her with its darkened screen. “There must be something fun to do around here.”

Kate squints at her, head tipping in thought. “Kind of? I mean, wouldn't you know more? You've been here a while, yeah?”

Yelena rocks forward, legs squarely landing on the ground, then spins to face Kate as she speaks. “It's been a while. I hoped things would change. Some of the Commanders used to talk about putting in, like, little arcade stuff, sport courts, whatever, to make things more exciting. What'd they call it? Enrichment or something?”

Kate sits up and shrugs, closer now to the edge of the bunk bed’s railing. “Well they added another one of those combo fields, it does soccer and basketball. No arcades or games or anything.”

Yelena scoffs. “Typical. Well then Kate, I have a question for you.”

Kate’s smile grows as she hops down. It's a sight to behold, her hair billowing for the briefest of moments, her expression light and free. She's caught staring as Kate sits down on Yelena’s bed, (bizarrely, she's reminded of Kate in a crop top, showing off abs for the camera — does she still have that outfit? Those abs?), she's distracted enough that she doesn't catch everything Kate's just said “— your thing?”

“What?”

Kate looks at her, mostly amused and repeats herself. “I said, can I ask the question first, or do you want this to be your thing?”

Yelena leans back on the chair, the back tipping into the edge of the desk. “Go for it.’

“Okay, what's your favorite kind of food?”

She laughs, surprised, especially when their last few rounds were more intense and prodding in nature. “Well, that's hard to say!”

Kate scoffs a little, “And? Like, c’mon, that can't be your answer.”

Yelena taps the tip of her finger to her bottom lip. “Okay, well, it's hard to say no to a good steak, yes? But then there's macaroni, with a good sauce? Hard to say no to that too. And, oh! Like a nice Thai Curry, they got good spice levels.” She shrugs. “See? So hard to pick a favorite.”

Kate gives a thoughtful nod, then says “Okay, well, then, is there anything you don't like?”

“Oh, that's easier. Anything bad.” Yelena says.

Now Kate gives a disbelieving laugh, lips upturned in amusement, making her blue eyes crinkle at the edges. “Okay, that's unhelpful.”

“What? Don't bring me bad food and we're good.” Yelena replies with a shrug, easily doubling down on her answer.

“That's so — like, that can mean anything. Like ‘Some fast food is okay’, —” Kate’s pointing into the air with one finger, and Yelena, delighted at the image of a riled up Kate Bishop at first, immediately cuts Kate off after that.

“Don't bring me to the city to get me fast food, Kate Bishop!”

“Well, I happen to know that the Taco Bell on 6th ave is pretty good!” Kate argues, mostly to be annoying about this if her shit-eating grin is anything to go by.

She eyes Kate critically, but her annoying smirk doesn't falter or have any kind of give. “Kate,”

“Yelena,” Kate shoots back with a little head tilt that's so annoying.

“Fine, no fast food!” She says, throwing her hands into the air.

“Great! So, to summarize, that’s: ‘So many favorites’, and ‘no fast food’.”

“And no bad food.”

“Right, can't forget that.” Kate says, absently plucking at a loose strand in her artfully frayed jeans for a moment, lost in thought. Yelena lets her finish thinking and is rewarded with: “Okay, yeah. Actually, I think I can actually work with this. I've been stuck between picking a few places for dinner, but I think I got something.”

“And what would that be?” Yelena asks, injecting, in her opinion, the perfect amount of casual innocence.

“Well there's this great —” Kate stops and grins. “Nope! Almost got me there.”

Yelena throws her head back and groans. “Kate, this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.”

Kate laughs and Yelena looks back up to see it. It's nice the way it takes up her whole face, shoulders shaking, the sound of it loud and free.

“I'm not budging.” Kate says when she's done, crossing her arms.

“Ugh, fine. Is that the end of your question?” Yelena says, relenting far too easily. But, she can try and see about tricking Kate into giving away the answer in the drifting session later.

“Yep! Even though your answers were pretty unhelpful.”

“I gave you so many options to choose from.” She says with a tsk.

Kate hums. “Sure, so you say.”

“Fine, my turn.” Yelena says, rocking the chair back and forth just a little, the back continuing to press against the edge of the desk. She discards any of the serious ones she's got lined up, instead picking something innocuous, something just to get Kate talking. “Do you have a favorite park in the city?”

Kate’s face is thoughtful and Yelena is delighted that Kate decides to take this as seriously as anything else, and gives it purposeful thought as she answers. “Absolute favorite? Hard to go wrong with Central Park. But Inwood Hill Park is actually pretty great too. It's forest-y.”

“Forest-y?”

Kate waves a hand around, like this helps clear it up. “Like okay, Central Park’s pretty… I mean there's so much, I guess, so it kind of hits a lot of different types of park.” Kate searches the air, lips pressed thin as she thinks. “Inwood’s less curated, especially towards the middle.” She says finally.

“Oh, okay, I think I see what you mean.” And she can see it, picturing a wild wood, leaves never raked and removed, thickets allowed to get out of hand, wildlife not removed for safety concerns. Though if it's in the middle of the city, she wonders how much of her mental images match what it really is.

“Yeah! There's a LARPing group that meets there, and—” 

“LARPing?” unsure if she's misheard, and definitely not understanding if she didn't.

Kate’s grin softens, now lost in a memory of some kind, “It's, yeah, uh. It stands for Live Action Roleplay, and they put on armor and perform fights against each other with foam weapons.”

She frowns, remembering a documentary she saw with the other Widows once, this one focusing on an event in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, of all places. “I think I have heard of this, they do historical re-enactments, no?”

“Well, yeah! Totally. Sort of.” Her face scrunches again, she unhelpfully tacks on: “Well, not really, I guess. Anyway they do this in the forest there at Inwood Hill Park. It's pretty fun.”

Yelena has no clear picture of what LARPing is with Kate’s meandering and vague definition. “Hm. Alright, then. And is this why it's your favorite?”

Kate's eyes twinkle (actually twinkle in the horribly yellow lighting, Yelena is slightly taken by the look). “Yeah! It's a lot of fun. I think you should come to one of them, if we ever get leave to do it.”

“There should be plenty of time after the attack to take some leave.”

“Yeah? You'll go with me?”

Yelena shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

Kate continues to talk about her first time LARPing (first responders and law enforcement making up the group of people she meets with), and as she does she thinks she gets a clearer picture of what the activity is.

Before she knows it the rest of their free time passes and they have to head to their drift session.

As they're suiting up, Dottie approaches, clipboard in hand, they're scribbling something down as they walk, nearly bumping into some assistants as they make their way to Kate and Yelena. The outfit they're wearing is fun, a colorful floral style shirt and beige slacks.

“We're going to put in the stressors.” Dottie tells them, looking up from their clipboard, eyes gauging their reactions to the news. “You won't know when, but it'll happen.”

“Okay.” Yelena says, and Kate nods quickly, and she knows Kate well enough to know she does understand stressors are, well, stressing, but she's excited about it anyway.

It's technically too early, stressor testing didn't come into play until week two of Jaeger Pilot Training. But they've made progress by leaps and bounds these couple days, bypassing all the drudgery. (The first two drifts they should have just got used drifting only, and graduated to stepping together the third day; they'd completed all basic and complex movements like it was a check sheet the first day instead). So, Dottie had agreed with them to move them along at a quicker pace. 

They connect, the sensations fading even quicker than before.

The first memory to take hold is one of Yelena’s, because she’s remembering building out the simulation with Natasha over coffees one morning.

“You know those videos?” Natasha was saying. They're both seated just outside the Shatterdome, and Natasha is on one of the many uncomfortable metal benches that are scattered around. One of her arms is hooked around the back, her body twisted slightly so a foot can rest on the edge of the bench — knee up in the air near her face.

This is why Yelena is sprawled on the grass, legs out and leaning back on her palms, much more comfortable. “Videos?”

Natasha clicks her tongue in thought. “Yeah, you know, like, of a car driving down the countryside and then — AH!” She shouts loudly, hand going up to form claws, face scrunched in a snarl. “A thing jumps out and scares you.”

Yelena laughs. “I haven't, but I could see how that would be scary if it looked like you.”

“Har, har.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “So if we do that or something like that, I think it'll be good stressors, yeah?”

“Hm. I think so. Could we do other environmental factors too?” Yelena pauses now, pulls a face as she talks, hating the idea even as she says it. “Like, spooky music or something?”

Natasha guffaws. “Like a haunted house? Hell no . Just, no.”

“No, you're right. Bad idea.” She sips the coffee and they fall into companionable silence. As she sips an idea forms, but the memory gives way —

It's Natasha and Clint, they're in a training cockpit, hooked up to the Pons System together. She's standing in the control room, the simulation stressors planned out in front of her that the Dark Talon Handler had just shown her minutes ago.

She presses a button and on the simulation a zombie lady pops up on screen and screams loudly.

“Oh fuck!” Clint and Natasha shout together, the drift connection severing.

Natasha looks at her from the cockpit and speaks into the mic. “You're an asshole.”

But it's completely lost in the raucous laughter Yelena gives, making sure she's depressed her own mic button for Natasha (and Clint) to hear.

“Laugh it up, Yelena. I'm going to get you back for that big time.” Natasha says, shaking her head.

“Oh, anyway. You failed the stress test, shall you go again?” Yelena says, wiping a tear from her eye. When they affirm, Yelena hands the controls back to Dark Talon’s handler.

The amusement rolls into a memory of Kate’s. She's standing on a snowy alcove of a brick building, bow and arrow in hand. She's just attached a grabber-tip arrow and is lining up the shot. There's amusement, quickly overtaken by the need to prove herself. She traces a high arc and releases, watching the arrow disappear into the bell tower across the way. The bell rings loudly twice and Kate feels giddy triumph, then a snapping sound, followed by the bell tower rapidly collapsing. Kate winces and guilt fills her pretty quickly. Her thoughts speed up, rushing to not remember (but clearly failing) being immediately caught, getting a lecture from the dean, and finally getting a slap on the wrist with no charges filed or loss of enrollment at the college.

The memory passes and Yelena, first shocked, then breaks into laughter. “I can't believe you pulled that off. And that they let you stay enrolled.”

Kate chuckles, a little chagrined from the memory, “Yeah, kind of crazy, right?” and here she's thinking of all the things she could say, pushed into the drift at once: that she'd never have gotten off so easy without her family’s money, that this was really the start of the discovery of her mother’s mob involvement (purely by chance, the two things unrelated but one event would never have happened without the other), and that it wasn't meant to go so wrong.

A tangle of complicated things enters the drift, hard to put down, and Kate needs to learn how to. Yelena feels her own inaction acutely, making her fingers want to twitch, and she nearly opens her mouth a few times to interrupt, but aborts ideas before they completely finish forming. Kate spends a solid minute ruminating, the drift sync rate starting to go out of whack as she does so. 

‘Hey,’ she thinks, letting blankness fill the drift from her end, then she walks Kate through breaking ruminating thoughts: the easiest at hand right now, distraction. She pictures a dog, an angular and sleek Doberman, with a goofy tongue poking out. 

It startles Kate enough that she laughs. The complex emotions begin to pass, Kate surprised and a little apologetic over the way they quickly grew, nearly out of control.

“It's fine, that's just how brains work. Well,” Yelena says, as the drift sync stabilizes. “Did you want to do more of those —”

“Yes, actually, I also want to try something new.” Kate says, and the pair of them set off in the simulation to walk, and Kate’s picturing a maneuver that Yelena had only seen Dark Talon do once. It's a slide that moves into a launching style jump, the Widow Bites charging as they go, and it ends with Dark Talon punching the electric bursts into the Kaiju. It was a cool move, Yelena can admit.

“Okay, Kate.” Yelena agrees, and she's picturing the requisite speed they need to build up first to still be able to jump into the air after sliding.

This is easier thought than done. There's simply no accounting for the way all of this is still new to them. Their first attempt they don't have enough speed and it just ends in a slide.

The second one goes just as well, even with faster speed. But what goes wrong is the explosion that goes off toward the end of the slide, making their trajectory for the jump all wrong, flinging them away.

Here another person would panic, but Kate and Yelena don't. A calmness takes Kate, and she pictures the moves they need to do as they do it — spin in air so they can roll, roll, and pop to their feet.

They're back on their feet and in a stance to fight, but nothing else happens.

The breathing Kate's doing is quick and her heart rate elevated, and they observe the surroundings together. The excitement dies down, and they share a look. A stressor, taken in stride.

Now over, Yelena knows the second part is actually harder for people like Kate: winding back down and maintaining drift connection. Excited thoughts for her are like throwing ping-pong balls, once they come down they will go everywhere, bouncing and directionless.

And this is evident here, Kate’s brain — primed from the stressor went up and now as it comes down it loses focus, because there is nothing to focus on. No threat, no resolution, just calm.

In this split second, Yelena technically has two choices: let Kate figure out how to focus herself, or jump in and give her something to focus on together.

Which is to say, for Yelena acting is instinctive. She immediately thinks about how cool it was that they changed direction so quickly.

Kate mentally cheers and agrees, “Right?” Her enthusiasm bouncing her back.

And in the drift she feels Kate’s sharp focus turn and it's easy enough to follow.

First: the dodge executed well, and Kate quickly replays it for them.

Second: she's all amped up from success, which leads to —

Third: she wants to try the slide move again.

Yelena laughs. “Okay, Kate. Fine. We go again.”

Drift sync maintained, they go into a run and slide — but, once again, the build up isn't enough. By Yelena's calculations they would need a good deal more running time. More than is usually feasible in a fight.

How did Natasha and Barton manage to get the speed down? In her recollection of the event, she isn't sure — it happened fast. And yet,

Kate immediately picks up the thought with some excitement. And yet Natasha and Clint did the maneuver, which means there's a mechanical feature that aided them. Yelena runs through all the ones they have access to, but haven't yet put into the mix: thrusters, hydraulic assist, and rapid expulsion bursts (REBs, for short, Kate fills in).

She thinks the hydraulic assist would do the trick, the ones in their knees, technically not designed for use in this way, but she pictures it now: slide, move up, activate hydraulics, and leap.

This will be Kate’s first time using the Hand Hologram. They bring it up now, and in the real Cockpit the Hand Hologram will always be active, but in training it's kept away until summoned to avoid overwhelming new recruits.

The Hand Hologram is a hologram projecting buttons around the dominant hand with a series of commands primed into it based on button and thought sequences. The Jaeger won't even clench a fist unless the thought and button to do so is activated. This is all in the name of safety, to prevent a panicked pilot from doing something dangerous.

They'll be able to reprogram them as they want, but for right now it's set to the default (thought: knee brace, button: right hand pinky pushing the lower right button.

They share a look, a grin, and run, slide, activate hydraulics, and — the leap is overshot. So, they wind up landing poorly, but quickly regain footing.

Kate cheers, pleased that they managed to do the leap at all. For Yelena she's already calculating. The hydraulic assist needs to be better timed, she thinks.

She can feel Kate roll her eyes, a hint of annoyance sparking the drift, and Kate sulks, thinking it wasn't wrong to celebrate a little.

“What? When did I say you couldn't?” Yelena says, searching her own thoughts and coming up blank.

Kate’s squinting, and her lips are pursed. First, she's back-pedalling — the reaction had been instantaneous, not intentional. Second, she's apologetic, but before she can finish even that, Yelena says “No, no,” and thinks about how, in the drift, there isn't much safety of the mind for their own thoughts. They will have to deal with things like this, have a system in place (address, ignore, or set aside). Kate’s agreeing, her own JPA training highlighting in her brain: her instructor's recommendation was set aside to talk about later.

“That can work,” she says, and thinks ‘you might not always want to though. In a fight? Sure we let it go to talk about later. Right now, we can go over things. If you like.’

Kate's trying to think about the best way to present the tangle of thoughts and emotions she had over what caused this emotion, (implication — sharing — negative) all in the drift and Yelena frowns.

First: an image of Kate, rugby captain, high-fiving her team.

Second: a quote, “Small steps lead to big steps,” said by her father.

Third: Kate’s mother, distracted, not even looking up, waving an excited Kate away, Kate’s face falling.

And Yelena thinks she gets it now, hesitantly. That the implication was there by not sharing in a small victory, to dismiss joy out of hand can curdle the thought.

Internally, she withholds a sigh. But she feels herself relenting, she can try. Kate feels bad, wanting to highlight it's something she can get over, a reaction she can work on curbing for Yelena. 

“Okay Kate, I can admit, we did good.” Because they did. Already her mind is searching for middle ground: (no frivolous celebration, not over just anything, but sure, for some things. A goal not reached is still a failure.)

Kate says, “Okay, yeah! Not over anything and everything. And we're still going to keep trying until we nail it. I can agree to that.”

They share a nod and take up walking again. This will be a difficult balance to strike, and not the last thing they'll need to do it for, either. There will be things she isn't sure she'll be able to budge on, not even a little. Which is why, she thinks, it's okay to compromise for this small thing. The bigger ones will be the things that will take serious hashing out.

In the drift, she feels Kate weighing the thought, considering it carefully. In her mind, she is thinking that she would have just tackled the issues as they come, not at all ready to plan ten steps ahead on this the way Yelena clearly does.

They don't get much farther than that as in the simulation the ground gives out and they find themselves in a free fall.

“Shit,” Kate hisses.

In unison they reach out a hand and put it against the earth that flies by, kicking up rock and dust as they do so. Below the ground rapidly approaches, they have to slow their descent and their hand isn't doing the trick.

Yelena thinks quickly — put their back to the wall, drag heels in, activate thrusters. (Thought: rocket back, button: right hand middle finger depressing the closest one).

Together they do this, thrusters on their back flaring, and the Jaeger’s descent does slow. They're still falling but it's slightly more in control.

Kate’s thoughts come in quickly, picturing the roll they will have to do, but if it's coupled with the hydraulic assist and thrusters she thinks they can come out of it unscathed.

So, they leap off the wall to give themselves room, first activate the thrusters as they go down, then the hydraulics as they roll. They pop back up onto their feet (stumble, nearly topple forward).

In unison they both fist pump (the action translating to the Jaeger).

“Yes!” Kate says, elated. Second stressor passed without issue. In fact, they did this with no damage to the Jaeger in the simulation, something Yelena feels impressed by. She's seen similar teams do this test and the simulation would close as the Jaeger would've needed major repairs. But Dark Talon could easily jump into a fight.

Kate desperately wants to high five, but hooked up to the drift only motions in unison should be done. Anything else would cause them to destabilize with the Jaeger itself. But Kate pictures the both of them bringing their hands together in a clap, with the mental intention of it being a high five.

Ugh. Fine. They bring their hands together and mentally she thinks, ‘High five, Kate Bishop.’ and the Jaeger in the simulation does the move with them. Kate cheers in the drift, but also how they'll have to workshop this for something cooler.

Chapter Text

Drones: a Wiwaxian subspecies that appear to be non-autonomous. Once the Kaiju is taken out the Drones drop dead. Research on Drones was performed by SHIELD, which led to the discovery of the neurological bridge in humans. The research was originally considered lost by the fire that overtook the facility in the 90s, however it resurfaced when Red Room{this item was redacted] research was brought into WCO for the Jaeger Program. While Drones were studied it has been harder to duplicate the command structure that Kaiju have over them, and while Red Room{this item was redacted] documents allude to a breakthrough, any information regarding it have not been found.

• Leaked WCO Documents (obtained from an anonymous source, posted to 4Chan).

For the rest of the week after her conversation with Fury, Yelena does closely monitor their training progress, and it's leaps and bounds ahead of schedule. It's to her own satisfaction, but Kate catches on when Yelena hadn't even intended for her to.

The drifting session ends with Kate wearing a frown. “Okay, what's up with our training?”

Yelena’s eyes dart around, to assistants, to scientists, to the very full room of people she wouldn't trust with even a word of the Black Widow Program. “Our training is excellent. Ahead of schedule. This is good news.” She says out loud.

In her mind she pushes a thought into the ghost of the drift, ‘You knew I was a Black Widow. You said so before. What do you know about the Black Widow Program?’

And it's difficult to think of it without conjuring the specters of the past, the ones of the Red Room. She does her best to keep from thinking about it, but she does, for just a devastating two seconds — the indoctrination at a young age, the drifting to learn skills, the erosion of self — Kate gives a slight recoil.

Kate's mouth falls open before she snaps it shut. They both get to work helping the assistants remove the Drivesuits in silence, but Kate’s thoughts are loud and the queasy feeling she has passes on to Yelena. Or, maybe the feeling is all her own, amplified further by the sharing she did not want to do twice now in as many minutes.

‘Uh, okay, what the hell was that? You were six?’ Kate thinks coherently, finally, after a series of ‘What the fuck’s and a few ‘Oh shit’s.

Yelena sighs. How had she managed to keep her thoughts completely separate in the drift for all those years? And why does she have such difficulty doing so now? ‘What do you know about the Black Widow Program?’

‘Well, I was only told it was a training program for the Avengers.’ Kate thinks, and she has gotten better at controlling her thoughts as her face is showing that she's feeling a bit distressed (by the concerned looks she keeps sending Yelena's way), but the only thing that makes it through is the general emotion that accompanies that.

Yelena hums. This is true, her and Natasha had employed a version of the program to get the Avengers up to speed with Jaeger piloting, and is exactly the version of the program she wants to talk about with Kate instead of the Red Room’s original version.

Her frustration has been mounting all this time, and it's already caused her to slip up twice. So instead of explaining on the spot (and warning Kate against anyone who may try to sell it to her), she just catches Kate’s eye and thinks, ‘I’ll explain later.’ and hopefully at a time when the drift isn't there to complicate things.

The silence clings heavily at her shoulders, drawing tension from her and settles uncomfortably in the muscles of her jaw. She feels caught, somehow, in a trap she accidentally laid for herself.

The walk back to their room is stiff, mostly on her part, even with her effort to display casual airs for Kate. She knows by the charged silence that they won't be waiting to discuss things. This is for the best, she decides, it'll be like ripping off a band-aid.

As Kate shuts the door, Yelena sits on the bed.

“So here’s — ” She starts at same time Kate says, “Before you —”

The smile they share is small, and Yelena feels infinitesimally better at seeing Kate with it. She waves Kate to go first.

Kate nods, twisting and untwisting her fingers together just once in a brief show of indecisiveness. “Okay, before you start, you do not have to share anything you don't want to. I won't make you say anything. But even if that answer is nothing or whatever, the people who did that — whoever they are, are they still around?”

Yelena shakes her head and Kate looks relieved, shoulders dropping as she collapses into the office chair. “Thank God.”

Yelena, like unearthing a piece of gold, conjures the image of Dreykov’s plane exploding on the runway, his shouts of terror a balm on lonely nights. “Oh yes. They're all gone. Gone or jailed. But I'm not bringing it up for fun. The program was modified and reinstated by the WCO at one point, it was necessary to get as many talented pilots trained up as fast as possible and the program was the best way to do it.”

Kate’s mouth presses into a thin line. “Okay, and so —”

“And so, it was asked of me to do something like that for you, to get you trained and ready to fight with A-Squad. I declined. Even though it doesn't have to be like that. I just…” She shrugs, suddenly feeling flippant, because it's the edge of any conversation she's ever had about any of that. Everyone who knew was there with her, and everyone else was no one to her. It's easier to be disregarding of this than it is to look at it straight on. 

But Kate is taking this seriously (and genuinely), by the set of her jaw, the encouraging look, and that makes it easier for Yelena to as well. She decides to split it not quite down the middle — not uncaring, but not needing to look at the bulk of all that in the eye to describe it. “You should get to train for yourself. You're already good at it, you don't need me shoving memories into your brain over and over until you get it. I don't want some loser trying to talk you into it. Not a superior or a friend or our handler.” 

Kate nods, taking the concept in stride, her gaze is a little distant, looking at a point above Yelena’s head. For Kate, Yelena considers that she may want to do this. She hasn't thought of that angle before, the idea that someone would really, truly want to is ridiculous to her. But, it gave the A-Squad their unstoppable team dynamic, and it gave it to them within weeks instead of the years it usually takes. Who would perform this task for her? Barton? Another A-Squad person? Certainly, she wouldn't do it herself, even if Kate insisted. And if someone ordered Kate to? They couldn't make Yelena, her and Fury played their hands and that much was clear. No threats or punishments, jail, fines, whatever, would convince her. But Kate—

There's a spark of worry in Kate’s eyes, as she takes in Yelena’s face, and she can see her brimming with questions, each accompanied with a flicker of emotion across her face and in the drift. Kate shakes her head. “I think you're right. I don't need to do that to learn.”

Yelena feels relief flood her, didn't realize how much she was dreading Kate’s answer. But next will come the questions. She clears her mind, preparing herself to be calm as she talks about this.

“And,” Kate continues, amusement taking over her face, "You think I'm already good at it?” She looked pleased with herself. But everything’s lingering at the edge of the drift: Kate’s extending the subject change that Yelena needs because she knows she needs it, and Yelena hates that she's grateful. But even more than annoyed, she's relieved and she lets that carry her into a slightly needling laugh.

“Okay Kate, it's one compliment. Let's not let it get to your head, shall we?” Yelena says with a shake of her head.

Kate amiably grins and shrugs. “You said it.” And the sound of Kate’s stomach growling is loud enough for Yelena to hear, the feeling carries across the drift to her stomach too. “Let's go eat something, I'm starving.” Kate says standing up.

“Sure. I hope they have those empanadas today.” Yelena says, snagging a bottle of hot sauce — it was truly the cure to bad cafeteria food, and it made good cafeteria food even better, so a win-win.

Kate pauses at the door, hand hovering over the handle. “I hope you know if you ever want to talk about that, or well, about anything, it doesn't have to be that, I'm here for you.”

The glance she sends Yelena is enough to stop her in her tracks. It's at once open and warm, and the feeling she's sending Yelena in the drift is something soft and inviting, like a hug but in her brain: contained within is a fondness that has no right to be associated with herself. Her eyes burn suddenly and she looks up at the ceiling and crosses her arms. She doesn't know what to do with this — enveloping and comforting and warm and in her head. It's overwhelming.

She lets out a slow breath and waits for a second. The sensation passes, taking the last of the caustic and clinging thoughts with it, leaving a quiet sort of comfort that's somewhat unpleasant, but only because she simply doesn't know what to do with it. And when she looks back down, Kate is frozen in place, hand still over the door handle, but no longer looking at her. “Well, Kate? There will be nothing good left if we just stand here.” She says, and her voice comes out a bit uneven, a little halting, but she's glad that Kate picks up the subject change instead of the emotion to comment on.

Kate shoves the door open, eyeroll so strong she might as well hear it from here (she can definitely feel it). “Okay, bossy.”

“Thanks.” Yelena murmurs as they walk together, and she means for everything so far, even outside their conversation, for being so ready to roll with the complications, for being a strong and steady presence in the drift. 

The fading edges of the drift sends some of that to Kate, who throws her a grin so bright Yelena can't help but give a smile in return and thinks, strangely, of Clint the few times she caught him and Natasha alone, and of the way Natasha seemed to always have a secret, small smile just for him.

Hm.

She closes her eyes for a second, letting the emotion slip past for her to unravel later.

Having a non-Widow as a drifting partner is much rockier than she'd predicted — in her mind she was going to pick someone who made the next three years of her life easy, who would let her have Natasha again in the drift. Instead she chose Kate Bishop, who had the makings of someone who would turn her life upside down and inside out. 

Even with all the things that seem to be bearing down on her — the way she’s following Natasha’s footsteps merely by setting out on her own path. She finds she prefers this anyway, a bright spot amid the emptiness within.

These thoughts tuck her into bed that night, and she knows she should've asked Natasha about so many things. She just thought there'd be more time.

It's not surprising, given her conversation with Kate, that the next drifting session goes wrong. 

In theory, this is great practice. The more out of control situations they experience in training the better prepared they are for a Situation (with a capital ‘S’) in the field.

But, she's not relieved. Instead she is panicking. Mildly. It was one thing to disconnect when testing for drift compatibility, it's another when they're supposed to be training to get through these scenarios so they can pilot the Jaeger, though the thought is tempting, making her palms itch with inaction.

It starts as any normal session does, the handshake initiates and they're brought into the drift quickly, the connection stabilizing at 96% drift sync. And here Kate is a little more on edge, but she's doing a good job of keeping that under control. It's Yelena who isn't. Her control over the drift slipping, like an icy hill with no way to bail. Her usual method: divert thought only seems to bring up a worse memory than before, a cheap carnival ride that breaks down the further in it goes. Like a flip book, she begins to see them (Natasha, expression confident as she says they plan to attack The Breach — no — Melina, proud of her work as she shows off the trotting pigs — no — Alexei, frustrated as he tells her it was ‘boring him to tears’ —)

— she clings to the first memory that feels less personal, and hopefully easier to overcome and let pass: she's seven and the drift is starting for her. It's her first time, a new upgrade fresh out of production from the scientists and into her head. They're trying to test if they can transplant the knowledge of flying a fighter jet to Yelena from the more experienced Oksana. She's seven and (similar to all the others there's that freefall without a tether, the things people take from her, helpless to stop it) the scientists talk about her like she's not even there, gel cold as they prepare the base of her neck. The spinal clamps attach and —

‘Breathe!’ Kate's thinking loudly to Yelena. Maybe she has been all the while, but Yelena’s head feels too full, bursting with thoughts and panic, drowning out sense and senses.

Yelena’s takes a deep breath in, tries again to focus on the present moment — (Oksana's (Yelena’s) casually flipping a series of buttons on a control panel, she knows which ones to flip and what to do like second nature, into the comm she speaks “departure ignition check —” ), Kate’s really pushing the calmness and reassuring feelings to her from the drift. She would be annoyed (she should be annoyed) at herself over this, but the emotion Kate gives comes in gently but powerfully, like the tide warmed by the sun, lapping at the edges of her psyche and it's easier to let it warm her through.

It's horribly rocky, the RABIT had started to take on texture and lucidity in the way that meant, like last time, their drift sync was climbing to dangerous levels. But Kate’s taken the lead, pushing in a different memory: she's about to take her first shot in her archery competition. The fear that Yelena felt morphs and turns, leading easily to excitement (with the fear in Kate’s mind being on the backburner).

She lets it carry her, let's Kate take the reins. The memory ushers forth, and a fourteen year old Kate’s stepped forward, lanky and somehow more fresh faced than the one she knows today. The bowstring is drawn back, the sound of the cams turning the only thing she can hear as the crowd hushes. She holds the shot, ensuring it's lined up. She can see it in a clear line, the way she'll loosen the string and the path the arrow will take to its target. The arrow flies with a ‘thwip’ , embedding in the target’s bullseye far enough away that the 'thunk' is only imagined by Kate. The lingering fear vanishes in the face of triumph and the crowd claps as she continues to get bullseye after bullseye, the most impressive being the furthest out on the range — seventy meters.

She lowers her bow and salutes the cheering crowd, grinning widely at them. She's taken careful note of her mother, who has stood up to cheer and clap, pride glistening in her eyes.

As the brief but nice memory fades (and so does the earlier RABIT) Yelena feels relieved.

The AI announces their drift sync stabilized again at 96%.

The drift session ends an overall success. Well, technically a great success, Kate having brought them back from the teetering edge.

While she is grateful, it speaks of poor things to come. Obviously she's not doing great, and the thought of that nags at her, makes her want to pick at it until something bleeds the answer. She's got to get all that back under control, she can't be the reason their drift goes out of whack. (Dreykov, disappointed and within her, says ‘Deviations will not be tolerated. We go again.’) But, as she weighs the failure, she thinks there's something wrong with her, that she can't get control like she used to —

“Hey, how about we leave early? I heard that the baker’s making his chocolate chip cookies today.” Kate’s saying, pulling off her helmet and fixing Yelena with a smile.

She wants to sigh, to shake her head and tell Kate that she just wants to soak in a nice warm shower and bury her nose in a book. Besides, they won't be leaving that much earlier, a few minutes at most.

But Kate’s look is hopeful and warm, and further pushes Yelena by saying, “C’mon we’ll beat the crowd and get something good.”

“Okay, but they better actually have the cookies. It wouldn't be the first time you said they did and they didn't.” Yelena says, caving in and so easily, as she helps remove the Drivesuit.

“Alright, but in fairness, I was lied to, too. So, yeah. I've totally got a new source for this information and she'll come through.” Kate says, grinning and full of energy as she towels off and changes into clothes.

“Fine, we will see, won't we?” Yelena says. 

The food hall is, in many respects, disappointing at the best of times. But the baker, a grouchy old man who looks like if Santa had a drinking problem, has always had the best sweets. She's seen brawls break out over the oreo cheesecake bites. Since the food hall is a self-service style buffet, the early ones usually wind up being both lucky and greedy.

So, twenty minutes later, the both of them return to their room, a helping of turkey meatloaf and herb mashed potato, and five chocolate chip cookies each.

They sit there and eat and Yelena can admit it does help her feel more settled. Not to mention the conversations she has with Kate are light and funny. The looks Kate sends her occasionally are an echo of their conversation yesterday: she's willing to listen if Yelena wants to talk.

She doesn't, so she doesn't. She lets herself laugh at the silly stories Kate tells (how she was dared to shoot an apple from a tree at the age of ten, which somehow led to her having a broken leg); she lets herself go through the evening routine as she's come to expect it; she lets herself do all this because this was a strange hiccup. It won't happen again, she decides. It's not a trend if the data plot is one point. Maybe two. She lets herself settle in to read a book she borrows from Kate (about a young woman who shoots a bow and arrow), and she can imagine a young, archery obsessed Kate loving to read this; she lets the evening pass like this, in a normal way.

It's that night as she's sleeping that doesn't pass very well.

She's standing in her condo. Not the newer, tiny one. But the old one, the two bedroom one. She recognizes the outdated place, with its decor and appliances still from the 1960s. It had worked well for her and Natasha then, and it may work just as well now. They didn't have it for long together, but she's still loath to give it up.

A dream? It must be and yet everything feels real, she's breathing, the wood of the apartment door is smooth and cold to her touch. She should leave, if she knows what's good for her, but walks deeper in. The living room she enters is just the way she remembers. A liquor cabinet sits open, the back mirror smashed. This she remembers doing herself. 

(The mirror breaks and the scream she lets loose could be called a howl — the rest of that night is a blur of drinking until the pain and anguish gives way to numbness. A sensation that will become familiar to her, oscillating from one extreme to the next — but who cares, anyway?)

Something crunches under her steps and she lifts one foot to look underneath. She’s pulverized a mirror shard with her boot. In the dream another presence becomes aware of itself — Kate Bishop, dreaming and with her right now thanks to the ghost drift. She's as powerless to stop this as she is to take this impromptu tour.

Natasha’s shoes still spill out of the mudroom and into the living room, looking like she just walked in and kicked them off like usual, giving a loud complaint for the day as she did so. At first she didn't have the time to move them, and then after she didn't have the heart. This, she's thinking, is why she left the apartment in the first place. So many empty reminders. Her hand absently runs over the back of the couch as she continues her walk through the apartment.

She stops in the bathroom. She sees herself slumped over against the tub, an empty bottle of Natasha’s favorite vodka held loosely in her sleeping grasp.

(A day later she will rouse in the bathroom, the empty bottle clinking against tile. The headache she will have is strong enough to forget for a minute that she's come to in a world without Natasha; shame from that errant forgetfulness will fill her, and she'll do her best to chase that oblivion anyway. What should it matter if she does?)

Even from here she can see her eyes are puffy. That night is patchy at best, she supposes it would make sense if she cried at times.

She just sighs and stares.

Kate, always doing better at this than she ever predicts, enters the dream to be with her, her booted feet come to a stop right next to Yelena.

Kate bends down in front of the sleeping Yelena and brushes a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

As Yelena can see, Kate’s expression is tender, sad, and understanding. A lump forms in her throat. “Kate,” It comes out as more of a sigh than a spoken word.

Kate straightens. “Yelena.” She says, tone even.

“Let's go for a walk.” Yelena says, not wanting to be here anymore, to see herself like this — and more than that for Kate to keep seeing her like this, even though it's too late and she's already seen everything. (And the jealousy that begins to boil, over Kate’s gentleness with her other self?)

“Okay.” Kate nods amiably anyway, and together they leave this bathroom and walk back into the apartment that's too big for herself alone.

Except, in the strangeness that dreams have, it's changed. She's freshly showered and changed into comfortable summer clothes, hair slick with water as she leaves.

Natasha is lounged on the couch, legs stretching across both cushions. “Better not have used up all the hot water.”

Yelena (like an actor in a play, doing the scene again) rolls her eyes and slings the damp towel over her shoulder. It's for show, her heart fills with warmth at the sight of her sister, alive and well and joking with her. She doesn't dare mention it, doesn't want to bring an end to this. Instead she continues just as she did then: “I did, actually. Once I was done I just left the water going until it was nice and cold for you.”

Her sister laughs. “Wow. See if I get you a coffee again.” She points to the cheap, large, iced thing resting on the counter next to a grease stained bag that no doubt holds an egg sandwich.

She gives Natasha a mocking smile. “Aw, you do care.” She reaches across the back of the couch to pinch her cheek.

Natasha swats her hand away. “Do that again and see what happens.” She says, voice sounding serious, but she's smiling and her eyes sparkle brightly with fondness and mischief in equal measure.

Yelena’s own smile takes a dangerous tilt. “Oh? Is the famous Black Widow threatening me?”

Natasha vaults over the back of the couch and Yelena sprints back to the bathroom, laughing.

She closes the door behind her, but her bare feet touch down on gritty sand. This is very familiar to her, even though she's only seen it in videos and dreams. The lightness that filled her heart vanishes as dread and despair drop into her stomach like a stone.

The sand is a cool blue color, and the sky a vivid orange. The breath that catches in her throat is hot and dry, but she shivers anyway, a chill running down her body. It's the inside of The Breach, exactly as it was when the Avengers assaulted it two years ago. The air is heavy and silent, not even the wind howls as it rips through the wasteland.

Strewn throughout the still smoking battlefield are the large chunks of metal that used to be part of A-Squad Jaegers. She immediately recognizes the half of Dark Talon’s head, torn away from the main body, and the cockpit inside is dark and obscured. The occasional red light blinks on, illuminating the ruined interior, but not long enough for her to make sense of it.

Even though she doesn't want to, her feet drag her forward, stumbling toward the cockpit, her heart quickening at what she will find there —

“We don't have to do this,” Kate says, jogging to catch up to her. 

“I have to see, I have to know.” She says, pushing away Kate’s hand, which had come up to grab her forearm.

(In the video feed of the cockpit of Dark Talon, the head is peeled open like little more than a tin can, half of it torn away and Natasha is unceremoniously dragged out with it. She'd been mid sentence, confirming that they were moving to retreat. There one second, gone the next. The scream Clint gives is harrowing. Yelena, in the Shatterdome and only able to watch, unable to look away, unable to help, she stared and stared and stared —)

“No, you really don't, Yelena.” Kate says, jogging forward and stopping ahead of her and turning, hands held out like she can stop her. Her eyes are big and a little wet.

She laughs, but it's completely humorless. “Kate Bishop.” She says, annoyed, coming to a stop just a little over a meter away.

Kate fixes her with a wan smile, and as she talks (pleads), her hands move and gesture but never stray from hovering in front of her body. “Yelena, it's just a dream, we don't have to see this. We can go somewhere else. Anywhere you want!”

She levels a stare at her, watching her hands, her body language. Kate doesn't want to, but she's fully prepared to physically stop Yelena from going forward. “And if this is what I want?” She raises a challenging brow and steps closer.

Kate’s eyes narrow, and she shakes her head. “You really don't, I promise.”

Yelena steps to one side, and Kate matches her movements. She gives a sharp ‘tsk’ with her tongue. “You'd better move out of the way.”

Kate’s determined, once again shaking her head. “Please, Yelena.”

Yelena sighs, “I warned you.” She says, then lunges at Kate.

Even though it's a dream, the punch she throws to Kate that lands on her jaw feels real. Her knuckles scrape flesh and this would be bruising if it were against Kate’s physical body. She doesn't contemplate if this will bruise the real Kate, but in the drift she can feel Kate wonder it.

Kate shoves at her, pushing at her torso and Yelena goes backwards a couple steps to maintain her balance in the shifting sand. She scowls and goes forward again, swinging wildly (too emotional, the Widow within warns), her hands finding purchase against Kate’s ribs, who expels her air with an ‘oof’.

Kate does her best to merely defend herself, to hold her ground and block the attacks, never throwing a fist of her own.

This makes Yelena's temper flare. She full body tackles her and moves on top of her, pinning her body down with her thighs. She gives a quick two punches, one breaks Kate’s nose, the other cracks against her cheek.

Her fist rears back for a third one but Kate just stares up at her, gaze still tender and understanding, as though she's still leaning over a passed out Yelena, pushing her hair aside in a gesture of comfort and care.

Her fist, which had lowered just slightly under the weight of the gaze, cocks back again. Yelena feels the clarity of violence. One good hit to her temple and she would knock Kate out (in real life, how would this work in the dream, she doesn't wonder, but Kate briefly considers this). She can knock Kate out and march into the cockpit, searching for the body of her sister that the Avengers didn't bring back with them. But she will. She can and she will, even if it's only a dream. Natasha deserves that much, she deserves to be brought back home and buried and later Yelena can be buried next to her.

“Then do it.” Kate says, her hand coming up and cupping Yelena’s jaw, her fingers gently touching, making Yelena’s breath stutter like a building on the verge of collapse. Even now, as blood leaks from her broken nose, her gaze is bright and steady, never once wavering or losing the understanding there, even as her expression shifts to one of acceptance.

Yelena's vision blurs and she gives a sharp intake of breath, her anger spikes again and she conjures all the ways she can do more than knock Kate out (hands wrapping around that pretty, long neck and squeezing — a quick motion with her hands and her neck will snap — her fingers are strong enough to dig through the layers of skin and find something vital to rip).

Kate tilts her chin, showing the bare expanse of her neck. “Then do it , Yelena.” She says, voice firm, not an ounce of fear anywhere.

Her hands come down and both of them grip Kate by her shirt, the fabric bunching and hitching up as she does so. She hauls Kate up until her face is level with her own. Yelena's breathing heavily and it takes a full few seconds for her to be able to say, “Are you stupid, Kate Bishop?”

Kate’s smile brightens, and she must be a little delirious because she laughs.

Yelena stares, incredulous, breaths still leaving her in a pant, her anger and grief had been mounting in a maelstrom within, and now she doesn't know what to do with a laughing, bloodied Kate. 

Her anger breaks at the ridiculousness of the situation and causes a few chuckles of her own to escape her, and her grip loosens.

“Don't do that again.” She says quietly as Kate’s laugh calms down. Together they straighten up — Kate sitting up from under Yelena, Yelena settling down on the back of her heels.

Kate wipes at the blood still leaking from her nose. “If I can stop you from hurting yourself, I'll do it every time.”

Yelena huffs in annoyance. She's got some nerve. Bravery or stupidity. She straightens Kate’s shirt and rests her hands on Kate’s shoulders. She's warm and firm. “I am serious.”

Kate’s gaze meets her own. Determination, again. Definitely both stupid and brave. A dangerous combination. It reminds her of —

“I am too.” Kate says.

“Kate.” She says, not knowing what to do with the woman sitting in front of her. 

Her gaze travels over Kate’s shoulder, to the dark cockpit beyond them. She doesn't need to go there to imagine what she'll see, so familiar with the cockpit and the images of The Breach and a body in death, that she's dreamt of this exact thing many times — the details may change, the cockpit may be like an upright bowl, or on its side as an imposing wall. Sometimes she finds Natasha’s body broken and bloody amidst its ruins, and sometimes a distance away, having survived long enough to get out but not live any longer. In every dream she'll run to her, drop to her knees and (wail, gasp, stare in silence). Despite her earlier surety of the things she could do in her dream for her sister, she's never got farther than that. She’ll wake, gasping and sobbing, and it'll be over.

Kate’s hand goes to her cheek and pushes her vision back to Kate’s face. She sees the redness that would, in the dream space at least, turn into bruises later and winces. 

“I'm sorry.” She says, reaches out herself and brushes her fingertips against Kate’s swelling cheek, the two words feeling wholly inadequate for everything.

Instead of saying anything, Kate reaches her other hand forward, cups her other cheek and presses her forehead to hers.

Chapter Text

Pons System: this refers to the intricate and complex collection of hardware, software, and devices that allows one to pilot the Jaeger. Notably this includes Hand Holograms, Neurological Interfaces, the Cockpit, and Control Room, which each have their own chapter dedicated to them later in this textbook. Pons is latin for ‘bridge’, but in anatomy refers to a part of the brain stem, and indeed this is where the Spinal Clamps come in[...] Developed in the 1990s for fighter jets, the Pons System never left its beta testing before being defunded. Since then it has been repurposed to the Jaeger Program[...]

• Jaeger Pilot Academy Handbook (pg. 9, published 2013)

As far as dreams go, the one they went through in the night was relatively average. She's definitely had her fair share of horrible drifting dreams, though not in years. She wakes with a clammy feeling and dried tears on her face. She scrubs the feeling away with both hands.

Drifting dreams usually get an odd, surreal edge upon waking, and this is no different. She sits up and focuses on the dimly lit room, and it takes a few seconds to stop thinking she'll blink and see blue sand and a ruined landscape. What puts her back in place is hearing the mattress above shift as Kate starts to come to.

Strange feelings and her grasp on what happened begins to blot, she rubs at her eyes and feels glad to be awake now.

“Damn.” Kate says from above her. “Dream you hits like a train.”

Yelena moves and stands on the frame of the bed, popping her head up to look at Kate in her bunk. Kate turns to look at her, and physically she looks fine but she’s massaging her temple.

“I've been told.” Yelena says, jumping down and heading to the bathroom.

“Okay, I'm not surprised dream you got into fights with other people.” Kate says, amused and annoyed all at once as she sits up (though the ratio of each emotion seesawing as she does so).

Yelena fishes an ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and runs the tap to fill a glass. This headache should fade within ten minutes, as Kate fully wakes and the last of ghost drifting leaves and takes the phantom pain with it. But this is as much to help Kate as it is also an apology.

Behind her, Kate hops down from the bunk. “Jesus, this is kind of a crazy feeling.”

Yelena turns, pills in one hand and water in the other, to see Kate is rubbing her temple again (if she ever stopped?) and squinting at the far distance.

“Ghost drifting is stronger in dreams. Even when it goes away in the day it can surface again at night. Didn't they teach you that in your academy?” Yelena asks, passing first the pills then the water to Kate, watching her swallow both.

“They might've said something, yeah. But it's one thing to hear it, you know?” Kate says, throwing herself down on the office chair, the chair scooting back a few feet and coming to a stop against the wall.

She pats Kate’s shoulder. “You will be alright. Next time try to get some hits in, it's basically the only time you might be able to.”

Kate barks surprised laughter and wipes her sleepy eyes, clearly still coming to, so not at all the time to talk about things in even the limited time they have. Yelena herself is not sure if she should feel relief. 

“Um, wow, alright, I think I could get some hits in in real life too.” Kate says.

“Hmm, no.” Yelena says. “Definitely not.”

“We’ll have to see about that, won't we?” Kate says, eyes flashing as she rises to the challenge, even though Yelena didn't issue it as a challenge, she's just stating a fact. 

The sparring is fun, and she knows well enough to hold back, but in a real fight? There's no way. But she can humor Kate, she's been surprised by her ingenuity and combat skills before, there is always the slimmest chance it could happen again. “I suppose so. But between this and your archery, your little boasts are growing with no proof yet.”

“ Rude!” Kate says, laughing. “ So rude! First with the dream fight, and now this ?” Her tone is completely joking, but Yelena feels the slightest bit of guilt anyway. Kate continues, “We haven't had time yet to do any of that and you know it.”

She tuts. “Excuses, Kate Bishop. Not a good look for you.”

Kate straightens in the chair, the chair creaking as it straightens with her. “Then let's go right now.”

“Don't you have your training with Barton?”

A pout takes her face and she sinks back into the chair, looking tired and sulky. “Yeah… yeah. He'll kill me if I'm late again.”

“Again?”

Kate bends over in the seat and picks through a pile of clean clothes, pulling out a pair of dark washed jeans and a purple T-shirt. Kate had put her clothes away just the one time when she moved in, but now they've wound up as a permanent fixture on the other office chair. “Long story.” Is her distracted response. She straightens and gives Yelena a smile, something a little soft all things considered. “Maybe after? I can totally leave early and meet you in Hattenburg.”

“Okay, sure.” Yelena says with an easy shrug, pulling out her own clothes from her dresser. Hattenburg was the largest of the ranged training rooms, and the one with the most up to date tech, if Kate wanted to show off this would be the room to do it. “Barton will be pissed you're late, but not that you're cutting your training short?”

“It'll be like, five minutes, maybe.”

“Five minutes? To wow me with archery?” Yelena turns to ask, doubt coloring her tone, cataloging the way Kate gives a light chuckle and her expression is clearing — headache and tiredness receding.

“Yeah, totally. It shouldn't take longer than that.” Kate replies, completely confident.

“Okay, Kate.” Yelena says with a shake of her head and returning to her morning routine.

There's no way Kate wasn't going to be late for training with Barton today, based on when she left that morning.

After her own morning routine, she meanders her way to her own individual training, this time she's picked a short series of lessons on the neural interfaces. Apparently in the couple years she was gone the technology upgraded a good deal — well, it was technically always being worked on, the Jaeger Program had amazing funding (it being the sole thing standing in the way of the destruction of humanity), and thus it always had the most cutting edge of tech. She lets the video play while going through some sets of Tai Chi.

This fares a bit better than meditation did, but Yelena still decides it's boring approximately fifteen minutes in. It's the Tai Chi, she decides. Surprisingly boring to practice alone. She switches instead to go through sets of Nito-Ryu.

This allows her a few more minutes of listening before she decides that it's actually the droning voice of the presenter.

“AI?” She says as she straightens, and the recording comes to a halt.

“Yes, Ms. Belova?”

“Can you change voices of the recordings?” She asks, winding her body down with a series of even breaths.

“I have a plethora of—”

“Actually, you know what? Please drop this one.” She says with a dismissive wave of her hand. She isn't going to be retaining any of the information this way, not like this. It'd be better if she could hold it, use it, test it.

“Okay, Ms. Belova. Would you like me to bring up the list of trainings available to Rangers?”

“Sure, fine.” She waves a hand a list of classes is projected onto AI platform. She hardly pays it more than a second glance, this time sinking down to the floor and pulling out her phone. But she's not seeing this either, not really.

It's her first true moment alone after all that and introspection is not something she's any good at, but she should probably put a small amount of thought into what's happened. She used to be good enough that these sorts of things didn't happen to her. Did Natasha ever have to deal with anything similar? Or, because she went nearly immediately to being Barton’s co-pilot, did this never happen at all?

She gets up and paces. Every time she tries to pinpoint the source of her loss of control she comes back with nothing. She can't tell if she just needs to find a new angle, dig deeper, or if this was just a bad idea, in general.

What she should do, what she should really do, is leave. It's the safest and most contained option. Repetitive exposure to the drift like this only promises further loss of control. She's seen it happen before to Stark, and a little away time did him wonders. But if she leaves she will definitely break whatever leeway she's allowed to have with Fury, and there's just no telling what would happen to herself if she did leave. But there is a lack of care over the consequences. The idea of facing a punishment over leaving just seems… inconsequential in the face of doing what she wants.

So she could do it. Contact Lerato or Antonia and have a new identity drawn up, be out of the country before the sun sets on this day.

But this wouldn't solve anything no matter if she manages to stay away or not. Besides, she will lose any semblance of having Natasha back in the drift, which was the whole point of all this. And, maybe more than that, the briefest thought that this would upset Kate and derail her lifelong dream blocks the idea from further development.

In a moment of frustration she flings the phone across the room.

The lighting in the room dims, and the sound of rain falling in a gentle, steady pace fills the air. She stops in her tracks and looks around. 

What?

Her eyes narrow and focus on the AI, which has lost its shimmer, clearly dulling itself so there's less contrast in the room. It's obviously run some kind of de-escalation thing to calm her down. What's worse is, it works. Not the stupid sounds and dim lighting (even though, she thinks after a moment, it does help a very small, little bit), but rather the shock at the change has completely derailed her.

Stupid AI.

She crosses the room and picks up her phone. There's some minor cracking on the edge of the screen, nothing that will drive her totally crazy yet.

Unfortunately for her, she knows the best way to get answers. There was only one other person who drifted as a co-pilot with a Black Widow that wasn't already a Widow themselves. Clint Barton. There's no way she's going to do that to herself. Not today, anyway.

She reviews her other options. The issue is, talking about it with someone means talking about it. And she can't even complete the thoughts for herself, much less order and define it enough to talk to someone else.

There are other Widows, out in the world, living their own lives. Maybe they haven't drifted with someone else since her and Natasha destroyed the Red Room, but they’d understand this and her more than anyone else. But would they want to reopen old wounds just for this?

Ridiculous. Stupid. And all because she couldn't get it together in the drift.

She squeezes her eyes shut. She's definitely thinking about it too much, and she returns to her earlier point: she's not good at introspection. 

Whatever. She should just go back to listening to that old man talk about the new neural interfaces and practice Nito-Ryu. Or something.

After less than a minute of thought she exits the room. She's too early for breakfast, and Kate will still be with Barton, but she needs something to do with her body that isn't stuck inside a small room. So, walking it is, even if the walking is more like an animal pacing a cage if the wide berth other people give her is any clue.

She's halfway between the training room and their room when she settles on talking to Barton after all. Mostly because she knows if she's going to stay what happened in the drift cannot happen again, and the one with likely answers was him. Not to mention he's the most easily accessible. Ugh.

So she changes course for the training room Barton set for him and Kate. It's one of the ones used for ranged practice, but it's smaller and more secluded. Both the Hawkeyes are busy, heads together over an arrow with a large, bulbous tip. Barton is clearly stressing some kind of point, hand doing a sharp motion between himself and Kate as he talks. She uses their distraction to quietly enter and sneak further into the room. All these ranged practice rooms have piles of targets in the back, and this one is no different. This works well for her purpose and she situates herself among them to wait.

Kate separates and takes her position in the shooting booth. She draws back the bulbous arrow, with a look to Clint she clicks something on the shaft before letting the arrow loose, arcing high into the air. To Yelena’s surprise a great deal of liquid bursts forth in mid-air thanks to a chemical reaction of some kind, and as it falls it sticks to every available surface, even from here the purple stuff looks slimy and goopy.

“Good!” Clint’s saying. “That's good. See how much more surface area it covers, but the tensile strength is lessened?” He flips a switch and the targets struggle to move, but she can see they have some leeway.

Kate, who's further away, looks first at Clint and then back at the purple mass covering a good portion of the training field. “Yeah! But, okay, here's what I'm thinking.” Kate says, stepping away and heading back to Clint, excited energy thrumming in every step. “Trajectory and splash zones — could this be released in such a way that it doesn't hit certain areas in the middle or side?” She's pointing out into the field, her hand gesturing vaguely in circle motions.

Barton is silent, contemplative. He steps closer to Kate. “Maybe, but you might have to —”

And together they both say: “Put a small obstacle out first to do it.” Kate says it with more enthusiasm, but Barton looks equally pleased from what little she can see of his face.

He claps Kate’s shoulder. “Yeah kid, those tracksuits won't stand a chance.”

Kate’s grin broadens as she walks over to a series of switches. The one she flicks makes it rain on the field, and the purple goop washes away.

“That's enough for today, you don't want to be late again.” Barton says, and Yelena feels a white hot flash of anger on Kate's behalf, even though she herself teased Kate similarly earlier.

Kate gives a fond eye roll, ruined by the way she smiles at the end. “Alright! See you —”

“Tomorrow, yeah.” Barton says dismissively, packing his arrows into a quiver.

She watches Kate leave, throwing Clint a two finger salute as she walks backwards towards the door. Kate stumbles a little as she turns to face forward, looks around to make sure no one saw, and trots out the exit.

Clint makes his way to the boys locker room. She gives him roughly five minutes before going in herself. From the back she hears the shower running and he's whistling something tuneless, the sound echoing toward her.

She goes through the locker room to the shower stalls, not surprised it's still empty given the hour.  The stall Barton’s in is the only one closed, and Yelena goes into the one next to it.

“Barton.”

“Sweet— fuck— Yelena!” He shouts. There are several sounds that happen in quick succession: first a shampoo bottle ricochets off the walls and ceiling, a comb and bar of soap both clatter to the floor, Clint’s body bangs into the stall wall as he jumps in surprise, and finally the shampoo bottle smacks into the wall where her head was a second ago, having completed its journey around the room.

“Calm down. I just want to talk and I don't want to look at you.”

“Well, that's, that's great.” His voice has the shaky quality of someone with adrenaline running through their veins, and she can hear him move around, imagines he runs a hand over his face. “Can you — did you need to do this now?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh, loud enough to be heard over the spraying water. “Okay. Fine, okay. What do you want, Yelena?”

She's thought about what she'd say in all her idle time waiting for this moment, but the words she’s saying and the way she phrases it feels inadequate all the same. She's not even sure she's starting in the right place. “Natasha, in the drift. Did she ever make mistakes?”

The silence that follows is just long enough for her to wonder if Barton’s deafness is now bad enough for her to have to shout. But finally, he unhelpfully says “What do you mean by mistakes?”

“The drift sync.” She says, making an overall useless and frustrated gesture with her hands that he can't see, but doing it anyway. “Did she make it destabilize, and what did she do about it?”

He gives a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah, she did. She — she’s good. The best of the best. Well, that just meant if she went down she went down hard.” There's more movement from the shower, just long enough that the water turns off. “When that happened I did what Co-Pilots are meant to do. I helped her out of it. And later we’d talk.”

Yelena closes her eyes and tries to picture it. Her sister, the big Avenger and Black Widow, needing Barton to help her instead of the other way around.

“You know it's funny, the first time it happened, she… she lost it.” His voice takes a nostalgic tilt. “Broke my nose, completely ran off, and swore off the Jaeger Piloting for good.”

“And she came back?” She says, the phrase coming out much too strained for her tastes, but is unable to take it back. Part of her twinges in a painful way at the reveal, Natasha hadn't talked to her about this at all, despite her promises to tell her if anything went bad.

Before she can ruminate on this more, Clint continues. “Yeah. Well, I talked to her. Not to talk her into it, just to let her know I supported her, no matter what the WCO might say about it. But yeah, we got to talking about… about the drift and everything. She gave me some pointers, told me my attention was all over the place in the drift and I'd really need her help to get better. Then, yeah. She stayed.”

“So your advice is to talk about it? Great, thank you, Barton, so helpful.”

The laugh Clint gives sounds fond, and she wonders what memory of her sister she sparked to get that response. “My advice is, Kate is your co-pilot. So let her be. Let her help you, she's more than willing.”

Yelena sighs, which is really to keep herself from bashing her head into the stall wall, or leap over the barrier to throttle Barton. This cannot be the advice she has to follow, it feels wholly inadequate.

“Look,” Barton starts, and she can hear him moving around more — maybe toweling off, maybe gathering whatever stuff fell from his earlier bout of clumsiness. “It's not going to be easy. It wasn't for Nat. It took… five, six times for her to trust herself with me in the drift. But losing control is natural, it happens to everyone. The way you were trained is—”

“Okay, Barton. I'll take it under advisement.” She opens the shower stall and goes to leave.

“Yelena—” He hurriedly opens the stall, a towel wrapped around his waist and a small plastic bag of toiletries in hand.

“I said I didn't want to look at you, so —” She debates for a painful half second whether it's better (and petty) to turn completely around to still avoid seeing him, but it will expose her back to him. She looks him straight on instead, keeping her gaze unimpressed. He looks tired, and much older than the two interceding years.

“It wasn't easy for Nat. That's all I mean. It took time, so just be patient with yourself.” His empty hand is up, making placating gestures.

She sighs, eyes narrowing, no explanation for the way she feels herself tearing up over something the stupid and useless conversation. “Okay.” Is all she can manage.

It looks like he's going to say more, and this doesn't even graze the surface of questions she has, but this is about all she can tolerate. She turns heel and leaves quickly, startling a couple of half-dressed people on her way out.

She makes her way to the Hattenburg Training Room, texting Kate that she's on her way, disregards the rising feeling that she's going the wrong way (she should be heading for the exit).

It takes less than two minutes to get there at the slight jog she does. All along the way she weighs Barton's advice, but no matter how she turns it in her mind, she keeps thinking that this cannot be the only way to fix things. Talk about it. So stupid. And yet, all of her own ideas to fix herself come from her training in the Red Room. Is that any better? Bring nothing but the Widow into the drift, she can still tonelessly say, like a command. She's more than that now, and so was Natasha.

But just talking about it? Just talking? Baffling. Stupid. This cannot be the only thing that helped Natasha drift with Barton. As if Natasha would need to tell Barton any of the things she needed to do to fix herself.

She arrives in Hattenburg, allows herself one additional minute to remove Barton from her brain then proceeds inside.

Kate's standing in a booth, fiddling with an arrow, looking the long way down the lane ahead of her. Yelena purposefully walks a little loudly, and Kate looks over at the sound, she waves her over and grins, even though it's just the two of them in here right now.

Yelena comes to a stop in a position that gives her a good view of the field and also of Kate without needing to adjust herself to see both. “Ready, then?”

“Yeah, are you? I'm going to blow your mind.” Kate says, and it would be funny if it weren't so obvious of a check in.

“No delaying, Kate Bishop.” She claps twice, and Kate rolls her eyes in response.

Kate flips some switches, and as she does the targets begin to move. Up and down, side to side, smooth or jerking, sudden or constant. It makes for actual good target practice, and she's made good use of it herself over the years.

She watches Kate — impressively, she can think to herself — hit some bullseyes in rapid succession.

Kate begins to line up another shot.

“Why don't we make it interesting?” Yelena says.

Kate lowers the bow and fixes her with a single raised brow. “Oh? How so?”

“Well you're supposed to be like, the best, right? These targets aren't Olympic level challenges, I think.” Yelena says, and the smile she gives Kate should be warning enough on its own.

The smile Kate gives in turn is daring, likely recognizing the challenge in Yelena’s words and deciding to rise to it. “Okay? What'd you have in mind?”

Yelena holds up a quarter. “Let's have you hit this.”

Kate’s face becomes considering. “Like, from where? Seventy meters? That's Olympic regulation distance.”

Yelena shrugs, flips the coin into the air and catches it. “Or, how about the furthest target?”

Kate’s eyes narrow now, “That's — easily, like 200 meters.”

“220 meters, actually.” Yelena says, and moves past Kate saying ‘I know that,’ to continue her point. “Your US record is 330 meters for farthest shot. If you're supposed to be the best then this shouldn't be a problem. Right?”

Kate’s shoulders square and she readjusts her stance. “Okay, set it up. On one condition.”

Yelena tips her head. “Oh? There's a condition for your fulfillment of your big claims?”

Kate scoffs, mostly to bite back some laughter if her stifled grin is anything to go by. “Okay, no, I'll do it whether you agree or not. But if we're supposed to be in sync and all, I need to know how good you can shoot a bow.”

She scowls. “Kate you're not going to bring your medieval weapon into our Jaeger, are you?”

Kate beams, undeterred by Yelena’s tone and expression. “Why not? It’d be so cool and you know it! Clint was showing me schematics he had drafted.”

“Yes, from like ten years ago, probably.” She says, crossing her arms. Not to mention all the other issues ranged weapons have on Jaegers — so much to compensate for, so much can go wrong with a miss. There was a reason out of all the Jaegers that only a handful had long range weaponry.

“Okay, it was a little outdated, but there's some things that could make it up-to-date and it wouldn't even be expensive to modify. Well, not any more expensive than it would be to make it in the first place.”

“Unbelievable. I think he is becoming a horrible influence on you.” Yelena says. Her internal calculation is becoming skewed. All of the reasons to say no are coming up short.

Kate’s face turns serious, and she's reassessing, and then if her sheepish expression is anything to go by, backpedaling is imminent. “Do you really not want it? Because —”

She waves a hand. “No, I will hear out your excellent and well thought out plan.”

“Okay, it's not that planned.” She hastens to add the next part, words practically tumbling over each other in the fight to get out. “Yet! I promise I'll put the thought into it if we do it, okay?”

She bites back a sigh at the overly bright and hopeful look in her eyes, knows already she's going to give in. “What's the condition, Kate?”

“Okay, we won't do it unless you can hit a target with a bow at seventy meters.” Kate says, holding the bow out to her.

She eyes the bow. Fifty pound test. Good for weightier arrows (likely Barton’s favored trick arrows). The ones Kate have look standard so she'll need to compensate. She grabs both the bow and arrow. Her brain conjures the skills of archery — Antonia had studied the weapon (had studied many) and passed the use on to the rest of the Widows.

She twirls the arrow experimentally. “Alright, Kate.” She says, taking on the stance and drawing the string back. She takes longer than Kate had been, lining up the shot. The shots she had practiced were not nearly as far (or recent), but the principle is the same — account for arcing, wind, timing, and curve. She could blow the shot if she were truly committed to not having the bow on the Jaeger, but where's the fun in that?

She lets the shot fly and it travels neatly through the air, sinking into the bullseye of a target ninety meters away.

She smirks at Kate, who grins and claps.

Yelena rolls her eyes and passes the bow back to her. “Okay, Kate. I'll go set up your target now, yes?”

She ambles all the way to the farthest target and attaches the quarter to its head. It's not the bullseye, which is on the chest. This seems fair to her. The bullseye is technically bigger and easier to see. She steps away and watches from this distance Kate, who is far enough away that she can't make out the details of her well, but can see she's moving. She imagines she must look through something, like a scope, to see where she's put the quarter. After that, she'll nock the arrow, draw back, make the same calculations Yelena did, and —

Thunk — thunk — thunk

All in rapid succession, she watches as the first arrow hits the bullseye, the second splits that arrow in two, and the third hits the quarter.

Even though Kate may not be able to see her, and she definitely can't hear her, she still gives her a shake of her head and says “Show off.”

She collects the arrows and the quarter and makes her way back.

Kate’s smirk can be categorized as smug, cocky, pleased, and any number of similar words.

Yelena holds up the split arrow. “Well you certainly proved yourself.”

“See? Told you. Scouted for the Olympics.” Kate says, arrogantly, but Yelena (graciously!) thinks she's earned this one; she finds she likes the look on Kate.

She pockets the coin and passes the split arrow to Kate. “Fine, I believe you now.” 

Kate grabs the arrows. “Right? Now I’ve only got to show you I can beat you in a fight.”

She laughs, just to be annoying, and lets the sound leave her sounding exactly like that. “Okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

Kate shakes her head, and sets the split arrow next to her bag. “Right, very funny.” Kate intones sarcastically.

Yelena laughs for real now. “Always, Kate Bishop.”

They clean up the range and head to breakfast. All along the way she can feel the way Kate’s thinking, their walk not peppered with conversation the way it usually is.

A lifetime ago she might have poked at Kate’s questions, made a silly comment, but now she doesn't know. The subject matter feels sore still, like a freshly bloomed bruise. The uncertainty leaves her feeling irritated, and it reminds her of her conversation with Clint. She doesn't know how she would answer Kate, what Kate might even want to ask first.

What answers can she even offer when she has none for herself?

She sighs instead, “Okay, Kate. Let's talk about the dream.” She says finally, if only to get some part of this over with, and like this she can lead the conversation too. She guides Kate to a stop with one hand on her elbow, and they both turn to face each other.

They're in a secluded area, more or less. The hallway traffic is easy to hear coming, so she thinks this is as good a time as any — even better, it'll be before their classes and their drifting today.

“Yeah, okay.” Kate says agreeably, but she's got a slight squint to her eyes like she's still thinking, considering, then she bites at her bottom lip distractedly before she ultimately seems to decide what to say. “So they said — in the academy — drifting dreams are influenced by the mind of the dreamer. Right? So all that, the sand, the feelings — ?”

“All me, yes.” She nods once, “Mostly. You're there too, but ah —” she rubs her forehead in thought. “It's not so cut and dry like that. Some of it was you too. But yes. It's a dream, Kate. It makes as much sense in waking as they always do.”

Kate’s still squinting in thought, and leans against the hallway wall, appearing to have done so casually if not for the way she's being purposeful with everything else — the eye contact, the watchfulness, following Yelena's lead. “Okay, and the,” she points to her face. “The punching?”

Yelena nods once, again. It's Kate trying to lead into asking if she's okay, or maybe something similar (if she were someone else it would be something more like, what the hell is wrong with you? ). Instead of giving her the chance to segue, she replies: “Yes, well. Also me. Sorry about that, truly. But you, with the standing there, Kate Bishop? You would let me just beat you up, not fight back?”

Kate shrugs, “Well, I knew you wouldn't hurt me.”

A lie, technically. Dreaming Kate wondered a lot about black eyes and passing out. But also, it was a dream. Where does the line exist, when logic and reality are no longer with them? “Okay.” She says, because Kate’s not lied before, at least not during a serious conversation.

“Okay, that's mostly true.” Kate continues. She does a small pace, just a couple steps in each direction before stopping in front of Yelena again and it's plain to see the distress behind the motion — is the conversation not going the way Kate wanted? “I didn't think you'd hurt me much. And you didn't!”

Yelena gives a sharp tsk with her tongue in disagreement. 

Before she can speak, Kate continues: “Okay, I knew you wouldn't hurt me much, and also that it was a dream. So shit’s weird, right? It was a risk!”

Yelena’s reminded of a Kate from what feels like forever ago now, when they first met. The phrasing is similar — a risk, taken on by Kate. Twice she's done this, with stakes that seem too weighted in the wrong direction, and she mentally resolves to watch for more of this. Yelena extends two fingers and pokes them into Kate’s left shoulder. “No risks. Not for that.” Not for me , she thinks but doesn't add, “I was in a state —”

“I noticed,”

“— so next time you leave the dream.” Yelena says, and at the confusion on Kate’s face she sighs again. “Well I guess that's kind of complicated to teach an academy student, but —”

“Oh, no, they taught me that. I just,” she hesitates now, eyes flitting over Yelena’s face. “You want to be left alone like that?”

“Yes! It's just a dream, Kate. The bad feelings will be gone when I wake. No need to subject yourself to this too.” She says, unable to help the way she feels incredulous. Kate would subject herself to this? And for what?

“Well yeah, but,” Kate’s shaking her head.

Yelena points with her finger, cutting her off. “No buts! You want to start getting my nightmares too? Have little Widow dreams of your own? No. Remove yourself, or I will do it for you and you will have a headache in the morning.”

Kate sighs, head still shaking. “Fine. I'll remove myself next time. But we've got to talk about this more.”

“That's what we're doing right now.” Yelena says, knowing her response is unhelpful, and in return Kate rolls her eyes in annoyance. But that should've been the end of the conversation, not the introduction into more.

“You know that's not what I mean.” Kate says, crossing her arms.

Yelena crosses her arms in return. “No, tell me what you mean, Kate Bishop.” She says, still leading the conversation, but instead of the controlled manner she started with, she's unable to help the push, the needling, even in this minor and annoying way.

Kate purses her lips, squinting at Yelena again before she uncrosses her arms and puts her hands on her hips. Power pose, to boost confidence. “About all of that that happened yesterday, the RABIT, that's what's really bothering you, right?”

Yelena narrows her eyes, considering. “You talked to Barton.” It's less a question and more of a statement.

Kate looks a little guilty for a second before she nods. “Yeah.” And at the sharp look she’s receiving, hastens to add: “Not in detail or anything! I just didn't know what to do.” She punctuates the end by bringing her palms face up, shoulders doing a small shrug before returning her hands to her sides.

She takes in the statement, lets herself consider what it means for Kate to have told her, for Kate to have done that at all, lets that soothe the way anger and irritation rise at the idea. “His advice. So unhelpful. Just talk .” she says, taking on a gruff voice. 

Kate’s lips twitch in amusement. “Well,” She says carefully. “Yeah. I mean it's not great but it's a start, right? Maybe from there we can get a better idea of how I can help.”

“Kate, you were good.” She says, and means it, needs Kate to understand there isn't more she can do. “More than that, you were great. You did exactly what you're supposed to do as my co-pilot. Navigated us out of the RABIT and back to the present moment for piloting the Jaeger. It's me.”

Now Kate frowns, her brows lower in a deep frown she's yet to have seen Kate wear.

“I'm serious,” She continues before Kate can say something well-intentioned but ultimately useless. “The RABIT and everything with it, it was me. That's all. I just have to get control back.”

“I don't think you need to do it alone.” Kate says finally, after staring for a few seconds, the gears visibly turning in her mind.

“I don't know how you can help.” She says, and it's the truth. But saying so feels like another weakness. She should know. It's her own mind, she should know. For better or worse Kate is with her in this and will get swept in whatever free-fall that may happen again, so the lack of knowledge is simply not good enough.

“Well, how about we talk a little about it after dinner.” Kate says carefully, like ten hours is the halfway point between talking about it now and never .

“Ugh. Barton.” She grouses and Kate gives her an amused look, but she's determined, and Yelena can talk about it. Potentially. It might be more like setting off an ungrounded firework than a conversation, but fine. She will just have to plan for this. “Fine, we talk more later.”

Chapter Text

Solo Piloting: [...]yes, the Jaegers were variants of the Iron Man suit; it became necessary for the suits to be bigger, to offer more firepower and have faster reflexes. The neural load was too great for Solo Piloting to be performed beyond Mach 1 versions, see attached reports for a more detailed breakdown of the research. For this reason it is our strong recommendation that we maintain the Co-Pilot structure as is. We recognize the Solo Piloting performed once by Tony Stark, and once by Clint Barton, but they are anomalies and have been unable to be replicated in testing.

• Leaked WCO Document (obtained from an email from the Office of Director Fury to WCO Leaders).

They end up only really having time to grab a quick breakfast, between the archery and the talking, to avoid being late to training. Yelena has always been good at compartmentalizing, and so she employs that here.

The food, just a protein bar and a handful of fruit, is good enough. The kitchen never does a big breakfast to begin with, and she dreams of going into the city, finding some horrible, dingy, greasy diner, and going to town. The idea alone isn't enough to make the chalky bar taste better, and the thought brings with it a sour mood. No, her mood was already on the very edge, it would be terrible if this was the fucking thing that did her in.

It's like this that they go to their Jaeger Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu training, scarfing the food down on the way, and (at least on Yelena’s end) mentally preparing for the day ahead.

But if anything the tension is even more elevated than before. Yelena can feel it in the air, making her skin crawl with anticipation while they circle each other. The AI continues to repeat the motion they're both meant to be replicating.

Simple enough. This one is a slip dodge, to close the distance from an opponent’s attack into a close range hit of their own. And Kate, ever studious, had paid good attention to the motion. But now, as they circle, Yelena catches the stiffness in Kate’s shoulders, the rigidity of her spine.

Yelena’s sure that Kate is, in some way, remembering the dream, and it's created an uncertainty in the way Kate wants to proceed.

“Well, Kate?” She says, gesturing Kate on, willing her to move on with their day. Yelena goes into the standard pose for Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, one foot forward, hands up with hands open, fingers only lightly curled. “After you.”

The grin Kate gives seems more like her, and though her shoulders still are tight, it seems like a good beginning.

Kate goes across the room, preparing to hit. Yelena swings first and Kate brings her arm up to deflect with her forearm while ducking down — a perfect execution of the slip dodge as she continues forward and gets into Yelena’s space.

Instead of going for a take down (from her position, there are so many she could do: a bear hug tackle, a fireman’s carry into a throw, hell a leg sweep if she was quick enough), instead of that Kate backs up a step, a frown in place.

“Kate.” Yelena says, annoyance coloring her tone but she lowers her arms anyway. Internally she withholds a sigh.

“Sorry, sorry. I'm so good.” Kate says, shaking her head and giving Yelena a small smile.

In a mirror of her earlier action, Kate drops into the stance, waving her forward with an expectant look.

Now Yelena just stands there, the uncertainty trading places. Yelena can be very good at setting emotions aside for the drift, and she knows Kate trained to do this very thing too. And yet —

Yelena sits down on the mats with a huff, one leg out and the other tucked beneath it. She gestures for Kate to join her. Kate has a moment of confusion flicker briefly before the look settles and she sits across from her, close enough that Yelena could nudge her foot with her toe.

“Kate.” She says again, but this time it comes out softer, a sigh but tinged with relenting emotions. “Are you okay?”

“I — shouldn't I be asking you?” Kate says, frowning still, but just slightly. Accompanied with a head tilt she looks nearly curious.

“Me? Oh, I'm fine. Bad emotions are part of life. And you?” She says, meaning this more for Kate’s benefit, even though, annoyingly, she's repeating what Barton said to her not even an hour ago.

Kate leans back onto her hands, but her face scrunches, the emotion hard to distinguish — confusion, doubt, annoyance, perhaps a mix of the three. “I just — okay, you're going to laugh,”

She hums but nods her head for Kate to continue.

“So we did learn how to handle panic attacks in the academy for ourselves and others. It's pretty important, keeping on track for piloting a Jaeger and all.” Kate shrugs, looking away briefly before her gaze returns, she punctuates her speaking by waving a hand in the air, her weight shifting to the other hand. “It all just seems pretty textbook in hindsight. But also, I don't know anymore, if that was the right way to do that. During the RABIT, but you know, during the dream too.”

“And you're, what, regretting the way you helped me?” Yelena asks, folding her hands together onto her lap, finding none of the ‘funny’ things she might laugh at, only finding a truth, weighed and worded with care. “I think you did good. I've seen a lot of things in the drift Kate, a lot of it was not good. It'll take more than talking about it to get rid of those things. More than breathing exercises and mindfulness. And… maybe this was a mistake.” She says, gesturing vaguely between them, and the words feel pulled from her, a voice given to the thoughts she’s had since she woke up this morning, the ghost of rapid heartbeats fading in her chest; it rails against everything else within her, even though it feels like it could be the truth, or the start of it anyway. “I have been trying to keep those things from you — they can ruin a person, they have ruined people. You don't need to have all that swimming around in your brain.”

Kate sighs. She looks sad, for some reason. “I can handle it.” She says. Determination, again, written in the set of Kate’s jaw and solidified in her eyes. Maybe she can, despite the certainty within that says she can't. Yelena thinks Kate looks sure of herself, and the space between stark reality and Kate’s ability to carry out action has so far been slimmer than it is for most. It's also gone a bit beyond Kate not deserving these memories, not if it jeopardizes their ability to pilot. Also now that Kate's set her mind to it, she really doubts she will budge, not unless Yelena puts up a big enough fuss.

Yelena takes her in now. Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, loose strands framing her face. She's beautiful, objectively so, even though it's a bad time to notice. Her expression is searching, looking from Yelena’s eyes to her mouth, to her shoulders, and back again. On Kate there is none of the doubt a person should have when considering this, and she wonders how much thought Kate’s really put into this. Yelena feels a frown briefly pull at the corners of her mouth, at the idea of relenting to Kate Bishop, knowing in a way she already has, again and again. “Okay. Fine.” She says, when she should say no. 

Kate’s shoulders relax, the motion punctuated with a breathy exhale. “Okay.”

Yelena feels her jaw unclench, unaware of the way she was holding tension there until it's gone. “I'll tell Dottie to just let us drift together this afternoon, then.”

She looks at Kate again, looking for anything — any sign that she's chosen wrong, and only finds calm reassurance in the tilt of Kate’s head. Kate stares back, obviously doing mental calculations of her own, her gaze wandering Yelena’s form as she does.

Once again she's struck by the idea that (this is a mistake) she should be trying to double down, should be digging into her training instead. But something in her talking with Kate makes her want to try this instead. Ridiculous. And yet…

They get to their feet and resume the rest of their training — the slip dodge is an easy move to replicate, they have it down after a few rounds of practice, even with different types of attack.

This is good because the move goes into a series of ways to disengage and re-establish distance. So they practice some now. As a highly mobile Jaeger, these are good to get down first in Yelena’s mind — escape alive to return to fighting as soon as they can.

Kate is practicing on her a somewhat tricky set — the intention of this is a slip dodge, discharge a Widow Bite, kick to throw off the opponent’s balance and act as a springboard for the next step: disengage with a side tumble. The reason it's tricky is because of the good coordination and speed to pull it off unscathed.

Yelena runs at her again, this time going for a horse kick. Kate performs the slip dodge well, deflecting Yelena’s foot with her left forearm and closing the gap. The right hook punch she gives to Yelena’s side is sharp, and knows this would be a solid Widow Bite hit.

She goes for a retaliation as her leg returns to earth — this time it's an elbow aimed to Kate’s temple. But Kate’s quick, her foot already pressing against Yelena’s hip after delivering the kick, and she's rolling away out of reach.

Yelena watches her pop back up to her feet, beaming with pride at the well executed move. Yelena feels her mouth quirk as a smile of her own forms in response to the one she sees on Kate’s face. “Okay, very good.” She says.

Kate faces her, dropping into the stance and waving Yelena on, her smirk taking on a cocky slant. “I know.”

She scoffs. “So cocky.” She responds, going into her stance as well.

“What? You said it.” Kate says, laughing.

“And? I already regret it.” Yelena says, running forward.

Kate does a quick forward jab, and Yelena performs the slip dodge.

She can see Kate’s already letting her other fist fly, and in response she twists slightly, throws a punch into Kate’s side, and kicks at Kate — her foot landing solidly on her hip and pushing off into the tumble. Kate’s fist meets air where Yelena’s face was barely a second ago.

She pops back up to her feet and returns Kate’s cocky smirk to her. Kate’s righting herself, nearly toppled over from the kick.

Kate grins widely. “That's good, Yelena!” She says, and there's no trace of the mocking that would’ve been present if Yelena were saying it right now, but coupled with the slight tilt of her head and slant of her grin she means it to be lightly teasing.

She gives an exaggerated bow. “Thank you, thank you.” When she comes back up she can see Kate’s finishing an eye roll, but she also, gamely, is clapping too.

They begin to wind down, stretching and pacing. The day doesn't seem so daunting to Yelena any more, like the talking released a valve and let some of the pressure loose. In spite of the way their talk left her uneasy in a completely different way, Yelena does feel a little better having had it. This, she will not admit to anyone, for any reason, especially not to Barton.

But, it's the drifting later today, looming and unavoidable, that will decide what happens to them next. But that's for later.

Now, they're in the class attempting to reprogram the Hand Holograms. It's a little tricky, because sometimes things become part of the thought sequence that shouldn't be there. This is done outside the drift exactly for this reason: it becomes so easy for errant thoughts to program in.

They're trying to get the Widow Bites reprogrammed, and despite not drifting, Yelena can track Kate’s thoughts patterns with ease: she keeps thinking about a widow’s peak, which makes her think of someone with a sharp hairline.

“At this point it's just ridiculous.” Yelena is saying, amused when she should be annoyed (a startlingly common occurrence she has with Kate).

Kate is nearly doubled over laughing. “Oh c’mon! I think I'm always going to think of Keanu at this point.”

“Might as well, right?” Yelena mumbles, and she has no idea who Kate keeps thinking of, otherwise she'd just incorporate him into the thought sequence.

The look Kate fixes her with is still filled with amusement, but her nose does a little scrunch in thought. It's cute, coupled with the grin, Yelena decides. “Wait, I'm thinking of the actor. You know, he does that movie with the guns?” Kate punctuates her statement by firing off finger guns.

“Nope, sorry Kate. Never heard of it.” There was a large amount of movies and TV shows she needed to catch up on, if only to understand the pop culture references. There was a nice period of time where her and the other Widows had set aside a night per week for just such things.

“Okay, this, we gotta fix.” Kate says, bringing her attention back to the present. “He's totally just like you! I think you'll like it.”

“Apparently so, we won't be able to sync our Holos without him.”

Kate laughs again. “No, no, I can totally do it. This time, for real.” And Kate closes her eyes, psyches herself out with a quick two breaths, and nods.

In the end Kate shows her a picture of the actor on her phone, so Yelena can picture the man as part of the Widow Bites sequence (which is, in full: right hand middle finger straight up, Keanu Reeves and a lightning strike). 

They manage to get through programming a fair number of mechanics with success, even if they need to add a few strange things into the thought sequence to get it. This is ultimately great, they can start incorporating these moves in the simulations to come.

They wrap up classes and have their lunch and then the block of free time next. For this, Yelena is grateful, because she can finally pick up her old tablet and resume poking around what the World Council Organization has been doing while she was retired. Given the things she will be opting to reveal later this afternoon, she won't have to worry about this information slipping through the drift anymore. 

She arrives at the dorm room and is surprised to find it empty. Kate must be out somewhere… meeting with her friends or Barton or something. Though she doesn't know what Kate could get out of two visits with Barton in one day. But whatever, he's her mentor and all. 

She settles into the office chair and pulls out her old tablet and starts to go through the two years of backlogged data on WCO programs and initiatives. It's not surprising the world didn't stop after the failed attack on The Breach, and it seems like more than ever the WCO is still looking for an end. 

Like usual, there isn't anything very worrying. The most interesting of testing, from what she can see, is for if they can modify the Spinal Clamps to boost drifting sync rates. She'll need to keep tabs on this one, she thinks, and makes note of the scientist names attached to the project. Most of them she recognizes as long time employees of the Jaeger Program, and just a couple new ones.

She needs more time, probably weeks or even months to truly comb through the data — if something shady grew while she was away and Natasha was gone, doubtless whoever was doing it would want to take care to hide it.

It's like this that the time quickly passes, and before she knows it, it's time to drift with Kate.

She meets Kate on her way to the cockpit, and together they begin to suit up. She feels her stomach knot, like she's once again at the edge of the building, about to perform a free fall.

The AI begins the countdown and then the handshake initiates.

It's calm, the airs between them purposefully making it that way. The first memory to surface is one of Kate’s. She's in an alleyway in New York City, perched a few floors up on a fire escape. The alley itself has a bunch of men in it, wearing tracksuits of various colors. The men are out of breath, looking like they just ran all the way here.

Kate’s calm, forcefully so, an arrow nocked on her string, but not drawn. It's one the few trick arrows she took from Clint when he wasn't looking, just before he told her to ‘leave it, kid’ about teaming up to take down Kingpin together. Each trick arrow is unlabeled, but the tips are distinct from each other. The one she has on the bow now is one that looks a lot like the one Clint used that cast a net, though she's only caught the briefest of glimpses of it before it flew through the air, and she really, really hopes that's what it does.

The tracksuits are now wandering further from the mouth of the alley, she counts seven and they're all clustered together. They're talking loudly — a heckling and jeering talk among each other (The girl got scared and ran away — девочка is out of her depth! — we just want to talk — don't lie, Lev, we are going to beat her to a pulp!) 

Kate takes a steadying breath, draws the string back, holds the shot, and —

“No, not that one!” Clint says, slightly panicked and loudly and unexpectedly from behind her.

The startling makes the shot misfire, thank god , going well over the heads of the tracksuits and exploding against the side of the building across the way.

The explosion is loud more than it is dangerous, and shakes loose dust and debris over top of the tracksuits’ heads. A deafening silence follows and Kate, who'd closed her eyes and winced, cracks one open and looks at the surprisingly tame scene below.

The tracksuits spook, some running off, but some of the more bold (or stupid) ones look up and spot the pair of them, pointing and shouting threats when they do. 

Clint puts a hand on her shoulder and together they climb further up the fire escape. He pulls out an arrow from Kate’s quiver and breaks the tip open against the railing behind him. Kate watches as a stiff foam forms over the ladder opening.

It's so cool, Kate barely has time to think before she's ushered up by an impatient and annoyed Clint Barton.

This transitions to a memory of Yelena’s. Here she's talking to Natasha.

“That one?” She asks, voice pointed and incredulous.

“Usually people say ‘congratulations’,” Natasha says.

Yelena knows at this point if she pushes further she'll just upset her sister, on what is supposed to be a happy decision. But she can't help it, already upset herself, the emotion pushes into her throat and drives her continue. “Barton, though? You're serious? He'll be your co-pilot?”

“Yep.” Natasha says, crossing her arms and looking away. “I know it's not — look, they just think it's a good idea —”

“Who?”

Natasha just sighs, gives her shoulder a quick pat. “Sorry, alright? You'll always be my sister, but this is the right move to make.”

She feels herself recoil slightly. It's not like they'd ever talked about it. About what would happen to the Black Widow Jaeger, about who would pilot it. She should have seen it coming, after all there was something there between Natasha and Barton that she didn't understand. But the news stings just the same. “Okay.” She says. “Congratulations.” Saying it feels like ripping something off of herself, something important she needs to function, like an arm or an organ.

Her sister gives her a crooked smile. “I think you'd like him. You haven't met yet, right?”

“No, no. Ah, it's just, it'll work out anyway because Fury wants me to train the back up squads.” Yelena says, lying, Fury hasn't spoken to her about anything, but saying it helps her anger and hurt be buried deep down, and a detached calmness takes its place instead. “But bring your birdman by some time, we can talk so much shit about you.”

The fond smile she gives her sister is only a lie in that she can't bring herself to feel happy, but seeing Natasha give a smile of her own — cheeks lifted up, excitement lighting her face — she feels so many things at once, and ends with more positive than negative, so she'll consider it a win.

The drift sync stabilizes as the memory fades.

Now that they're drifting, Yelena had been unsure how it would all start, but the memory she just had easily moves into another of her own.

“Who's this?” Yelena asks.

There's tension buzzing at the back of her neck. She can see Natasha is doing some kind of mental calculations, even though her back is to Yelena. Her shoulders are set straight, one hand on her hip, like she's casually posed, but Yelena knows there's a knife tucked into the hem of her pants there.

The other person is a man who has one good eye, the other has an eye patch covering it. His head is cocked to the side, and from here she can see he's also assessing, but this is from the sharp gaze that stares at Natasha, the rest of him seems perfectly neutral, down to the hands at his side that are loose, not clenched or hovering over a weapon.

She takes all this in in a second; as soon as Yelena speaks, his eye darts to her. “Ah, Ms. Belova too! Glad you're both here.” He says, though he doesn't look glad. If anything, he looks like he's re-calculating the choices he made that led him here. “I wanted to talk to you both about some interesting research that came across my desk this morning. It has to do with something called the Black Widow Program.”

The memory pushes in another. 

She's walking through the Shatterdome. It's nighttime, the hallways long since abandoned in favor of the comfort of beds.

Her footfalls are silent and she makes her way down to one of the med bays.

This room appears empty too, and this would be annoying, except there's a small shift in the shadows by a medical cart. Her eyes dart to the source of the movement and she spots a fellow Widow: Antonia.

The woman straightens, face completely neutral as she removes herself from her hiding place. She's dressed casually in recruit clothes — the very ones Yelena had supplied her with some time ago.

“You reviewed the data, then?” Yelena asks, which is redundant. Antonia wouldn't have come if she didn't.

Her answer is a slight incline of her head.

“Alright, let's go.” She says.

Together the pair walk with purpose to the wing the scientists call home.

Corin Marsh. An overeager and well decorated scientist who's all comfortable in his little bed. Antonia takes care of waking him, and Yelena boots his computer up.

“Dr. Marsh!” Yelena says when the startled man comes to. “You know, I've been doing some digging into your work. Me and my colleague. We both wanted to get a better look. Didn't we?”

Antonia says nothing, keeps her firm grip on the man’s throat as she chokes him. He gives a strangled noise, and Yelena knows in a few seconds the man won't be able to talk above a hoarse whisper.

“Exactly. Impressive stuff here, with the Spinal Clamps. It reminded me of something, you know? I couldn't put my finger on it, but ah!” She snaps her finger and points at his reddening face. “You'll be able to help me out here. Let's start with this: tell me where you got this idea.”

He gives up a name before he's killed for his trouble.

The memory fades and changes to a funeral, this time from Kate’s perspective.

“He was so young.” A tearful woman is saying to Eleanor Bishop.

Kate steals another glance at the picture of the man they're all here to mourn. He's old. Like, really old. His red hair fading to grey in most places, and he has the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes of a shrewd person, who probably made lots of pinched and squinting expressions.

Eleanor gives a comforting back pat to the other woman, who sobs into a handkerchief. Kate offers the woman a strained smile.

“Mrs. Pierce,” Eleanor says quietly, and leads the woman to a seat.

Mrs. Pierce sits down heavily, sobs coming on stronger.

Kate feels uncomfortable and begins to inch her way toward the door, continuing to send the woman (a practical stranger to her) little smiles as she does so.

Eleanor, sharp as ever, looks up at Kate, a knowing look in her eyes. It's clear to Kate she disapproves of the sneaking out, but her expression is carefully controlled in a way that Yelena knows comes from years and years of practice.

The apologetic smile Kate gives turns to a wince as she bumps into a display of flowers. She spins and catches it before it hits the floor, rights the vase quickly, then makes sure no one noticed. The flowers are crushed on one side from her effort, so she carefully turns the display around so that part faces out the wall instead.

Her head turns again to her mother, who's gone back to comforting the new widow, and isn't paying Kate any mind now.

Kate uses the opportunity to finish sneaking out, and makes her way to the back. It's an overflow parking lot, with a decent amount of decorative trees lining the back. She makes her way over to them, leans against a trunk and lets out a deep breath.

“Funerals suck.” A younger boy says, looking every bit the moody teen he's dressed as. His red hair is freshly cut and styled for the occasion, but it does little to help him look any more put together. His eyes are red rimmed, and maybe he was crying, but she also catches the distinct whiff of weed that still lingers in the air.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Kate says, her heart rate going back to normal after that little jump scare. She thought for sure she'd be alone out here.

“Petey.” He says, extending a hand, wry smile in place as he continues, “I know, what were my parents thinking, Petey Pierce?” The laugh he gives is somewhat choked as the sound escapes him. He turns it into a cough.

“Sorry for your loss.” Kate says, automatically more than planned, as she shakes his hand.

“Whatever. Thanks, I guess. You think the Secretary of the World Council Organization would have more friends, right?” Petey says, gesturing to the nearly empty overflow lot. “But nope. That's just the kind of guy my dad was.”

His indifferent tone hides a layer of pain. Kate straightens and offers him a small smile in return with a story: her own father’s funeral, with just a handful of family and friends despite the impact he had on the city.

The memory fades on that note, already having taken fuzzy to the edges by the time Kate left to the parking lot. Yelena is struck by the echoes of loss that still travel to meet Kate now.

“That's weird, that your mother knew Alexander Pierce.” Yelena thinks aloud, and usually coincidences were anything but that when it came to her line of work.

Kate hums thoughtfully and Yelena can see in the drift: Kate taking the idea, discerning it, comparing it to the painful memories she has of her family, of the things she's learned. “Not really, I mean, the Bishops donate a lot of resources to the WCO, even at the beginning, so we knew a lot of them. Well, ‘knew’ like, loosely, in that way where we weren't close or anything. Or even acquaintances, probably.”

“I see.” Yelena says letting the idea drop, picking up instead of the thread of loneliness that lingers at the end of the sentence. Here, stymied by Kate, is a lingering pain. The temptation is there to pluck it, to follow it, she knows how —

But doesn't. Instead she moves them on to something else — 

Natasha and herself stand in front of the Jaeger. The Jaeger itself is on its back, and they'd needed to exit because there was no way to right the thing now that it's fallen. It was no good, they got the lightheadedness that spoke of improper blood flow to the brain, and so after speaking it over with Dreykov they agreed to disconnect while the Jaeger was righted.

“I can't believe you,” Natasha starts, amusement and teasing coloring her tone already, but there's a distinct undercurrent of annoyance.

“Don't you dare start.” She says, a warning and conversation ender rolled into one.

“No, no,” Natasha says, grinning fully now as she puts herself into her field of view, which makes her need to look up to meet her eyes, even more annoying. “Who said we should fully charge the Widow Bites?”

She rolls her eyes. “You're such a bitch.”

Natasha cups a hand around her ear like she can't hear her, the woman’s annoyance abandoned in favor of taking joy in being a pest. “Sorry, did you say it was you, Sonya?”

“Well, how was I supposed to know —” she begins to argue, going for a firm tone but completely missing and sounding petulant instead.

Natasha laughs. “Oh, if only someone warned you it'd be a bad idea.”

“Ugh, shut up!” She says, to the other woman’s even greater amusement.

“And now you've turtled the Jaeger, so, congrats on that.” Natasha (Ana) concludes. And suddenly the woman in front of her is lanky, tall, blonde hair pulled into crisp braids, an impish smile on her heart shaped face.

“Ah, if anything I've exposed a development issue. The stupid thing should be able to stand back up.”

Ana gives a shrug and turns back to watch the giant metal machine get picked up by a series of helicopters working in tandem, and soon the thing will be back on its feet so they can bring it back to the Red Room.

They did manage to take out the Kaiju before it reached the small village of Safakulevo. From the Jaeger they could just start to see the tops of buildings. But on the ground, there's just the tall grass and hills. And, naturally, the body of a Kaiju that takes the center focus of the crew scurrying around it. This one has a large crested forehead, which, Dreykov was saying, was good, it meant the brain was likely still intact. 

The beast rumbles and its foot twitches. Both her and Ana step back, startled. Death rattles?

They share a worried look between each other and tune back into their comms.

Dreykov is telling the team to strap the beast into the transportation vehicle quickly. Even over the comm he sounds pleased, excited even. The Kaiju is alive.

The memory warps — the typical confusion that came from her time in the Red Room. Is she asserting too much of herself onto these memories? Or not enough?

Her confusion rubs off on Kate, who is thinking a series of thoughts at the same time. There's a difficulty in parsing them because Kate’s trying to keep her emotions in check, but the overwhelming thought is: what just happened?

The thought sparks something more, and she's about to be spewing a truth to Kate like a severed artery, there's still the reflex to stop. Together they take a deep breath, and the swooping fear within causes something in her gut to plunge. She looks at Kate in the eye and —

The Spinal Clamps connect and she didn't know that this would be the last time she was herself for years. If she had, she might have taken a last look at her body, appreciated the blonde of her hair and the green of her eyes, the things that made Yelena herself.

Instead she blinks and she's not herself. The thoughts in her head empty out, hollow, leaving space for nothing else but the command and the collective. She's not like a person and more like a limb — an extension of another. The brain says shoot and she pulls the trigger. 

In the background, there are the others. The Widows. As they connect they become one, in sync completely in a way that she can no longer distinguish between the things her body is doing and the things the other bodies are doing (the fingers aren't able to separate themselves from the hand, the drops of water don't stand out from the river, the command of the brain are absolute and she’s (they're) unable to exist enough to question it). As each one connects the memories muddy, intermingle, and merge.

The Widow is like this for some time before — the Spinal Clamps disconnect and she's jolted back into a self she's unfamiliar with. Taller. Muscular. Hair longer. Brain elastic and bouncing back from being stretched too far. 

The first thing she becomes aware of is her tongue in her mouth. It feels too big and there's a dry and chalky taste that’s cottony and swallowing doesn't get rid of it. The next is the saliva that begins to pool in her mouth, a sweet smell fills her nose, and when she blinks first she sees red. 

Then she blinks again and the world crashes into her eyes. She staggers back at it. Shapes, colors, textures, all catalogued faster than she can comprehend what she's seeing.

A breeze cools the sheen of sweat against her forehead and she's uncomfortably aware that it's hot, and the tac gear she's wearing provides no ventilation. It's too hot, suddenly. It's too tight. The world is full of smells and sounds and sights and sensations, and it all presses against her.

She sneezes.

A shape moves against the others and her eyes dart to it instinctively. She blinks again and it's a woman. Older. Black hair. Round face. An uncomfortable smile in place as she gives rough pats to Yelena’s back.

This is how she becomes aware that she's retching — the feeling alien as bile rises in her throat and makes her eyes water.

The breath she sucks in is shaky and she squeezes her eyes shut. Coughs, clears her throat, and after a minute of breathing she finds that she can focus, can separate the sensations into different things.

“You're alright.” The woman is saying, and the voice is close, but loud to her. It swims in her mind, mixing horribly with the noises of the nearby street and the chatter of people in the store behind her, that it takes a full minute to separate it as its own distinct thing.

It's in the streets of Morocco that Yelena becomes herself again, disconnected from the Widow hivemind violently, heaving breaths as she becomes aware of the effort it takes to move her body.

And once again she faces the thing, the thing she's hidden from Kate, but is trying to show now. The way she can scratch just below the surface of self and find all the others — Sonya, Antonia, Natasha, and the dozens of other girls that were part of the Black Widow Program — all crammed into her head: the memories that are theirs, that are hers, that they share. And after she'd been yanked out, feral and empty, she struggled to distinguish herself. Is she sarcastic because Natasha is? Is she good at learning new moves because Antonia is? When does she stop being them, and start being herself? And despite the time she's had to find who she is, sometimes at her lowest points she still can't be sure.

The memory fades and there is a silence in the drift as Kate absorbs what is surely an overwhelming amount of information.

There’s the hungry, gnawing fear that's returned, making her grapple with the sudden desire to disconnect and leave.

They stand there like that for a time, and in the drift she can feel Kate taking time to process everything. She's taken the free fall, and —

Kate lets out a breath and she can feel her accepting what she's just seen, taking it in stride, and more than that that this hasn't convinced her to leave their partnership.

Yelena feels caught, but by a tether this time, one that ties her to Kate.

The fear is replaced by giddiness — as it often is after a safe free fall, and she feels Kate’s spirit lift too.

And here comes a memory of Kate’s, spurred by the heady emotion.

It's a recent memory, she's on the subway, Barton next to her.

She's going through the events that just happened, coming down from an adrenaline high, they'd taken out a large amount of tracksuits, successfully pulled off and escaped from a car chase, and retrieved some important information that Kate didn't yet know how they'd be able to use against Kingpin — but it felt important, it felt game changing, and they did so good.

Clint’s head has been on a swivel since they lost their tails, which is smart, she should probably be doing that too. Well, it's a little late anyway and he's totally got it. He turns briefly to make sure Kate hears him when he says, “You really are, you know. The world's greatest archer.”

Something in Kate swells with pride, that Hawkeye would tell her this, it feels like more than a compliment, it feels assuring of the path she's travelled her whole life, and this, more than the trophies and achievements, feels fulfilling in a way she wasn't expecting. She grins at Clint, a rush of affection for this man taking root and curling him close to her heart.

The memory fades, and it tints Yelena’s thoughts in a good way. Together she feels the both of them desire to wind down — the time to dissect and process will be tonight, once the ghost drift fades (to prevent forming an echo chamber).

Overall the sharing has left her feeling better, but raw — like she's stood under a steaming shower and removed every layer of dead flesh. So, yes, this did help, in short.

This, she thinks but doesn't say, and in the drift Kate Bishop feels smug. ‘Remember when you didn't want to talk about it?’

She huffs, a sharp twinge of annoyance losing to fondness easily. ‘Just get it over with, Kate Bishop.’

‘Okay! I so told you so!’

“When's our trip into the city again?” She asks, mostly to distract Kate from further gloating. But the subject change is also good, it catches Kate off guard and now she’s thinking about their trip to the city, in a vague way right now.

“Oh! This Friday.” Kate says, and she’s picturing a few things — a boutique or a cafe, it’s hard to tell, the flash is so brief.

“Great, and you've got the itinerary planned out with Dottie?” Yelena asks, innocently enough, she thinks.

In the drift the vaguest of plans forms — Yelena can see it: hitching a ride on a helicopter that's going to Stark Tower in the morning, some time to pick up essentials —

Kate’s thoughts suddenly change course, and is instead picturing a beautiful husky flopping over on a couch, giving pitiful, barking cries as it does, mourning a toy that's fallen to the floor and out of reach.

“Ugh, Kate.”

“Yelena.”

“Okay, you've got to admit I nearly got you with that.” She says with a laugh.

It's Kate’s turn to feel annoyed, but she doesn't bother to mask the fondness either. “It was pretty good. But I totally caught it before it was too late.”

“Mhmm. Very impressive, very impressive.” She says. “But that second part, the ‘essentials’, is there time for me to get new clothes and such?”

Kate shrugs. “Sure, why not.” And Kate’s picturing Yelena in a bunch of different clothes — a turtleneck that leaves her arms bare, form fitting jeans that hug her butt and thighs nicely, a crop top that shows off her stomach.

Yelena laughs. “Well, I'll have some trouble incorporating all that, I think.”

Kate feels a rush of embarrassment before she laughs too. “Can't blame a girl for appreciating your assets.”

“No, not at all. I know I look good.” Yelena agrees, and in return, she pictures things that she thinks would compliment Kate the best: a backless dress that shows off the impressive musculature she's caught glimpses of, a short skirt that highlights the long legs Kate has, a beautiful dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up with Kate’s forearms showing.

She watches as a dark blush crawls up Kate’s neck, and colors her cheeks a pretty bright red, and together they share a want that has their eyes meeting and the flush on Kate’s face returning in full force. Yelena doesn't know what to do with the thought (knows what she would like to do), but a different thought seizes her, that right now, she's not ready.

The drift clears as Kate’s mind goes blank, and Yelena lets it clear her mind too.

For the rest of their drifting they trade memories back and forth. Nothing important, most of them silly, but it's exactly what she needed to close out the day on a good note. And more than that, the things she shared with Kate didn't send her packing. Instead, there's a closeness she can feel, especially in the drift, that Yelena can admit she denied them both by playing so close to the chest. It's nice, comforting even. It makes her less afraid of the things she might unwittingly wind up sharing with Kate in the future.

Chapter Text

Headspace: this is the place where the drifting team's thoughts converge. This can be images, words, concepts, a mix of all three. In this space communication can happen much faster, with the drifting parties having a conversation within a second. In 2023 Dr. Banner drifted with a Wiwaxian brain for about ten seconds. This led to a breakthrough in understanding The Breach. Dr. Banner states that in the drift with the Wiwaxian he saw the other dimension that they are made in, that they are creatures made solely for attacking Earth by their progenitors, and he obtained vital information on how The Breach works.

• Internal Memorandum to Director Fury from Avengers Tower, found in the trash.

As they get midway through the next week of training, they hit their stride. By her mental calculations, she figures they can possibly start training with A-Squad in a few weeks and integrate themselves into their team formation (a thought she loathes to consider right now).

The few times she's met with the Director he's been pleased with their progress — not that he ever said so directly or gave anything away with his face, instead she knows by the way the meetings are short, and end in ‘you and Bishop keep up the pace’. So, whatever doubts he had about their progress, they're gone now.

It's not just that Kate is good at combat, though that is certainly the foundation. With their drift sync being so high their reaction time together is amazing, and even more than that when Yelena is thinking of a maneuver Kate picks it up and is able to execute it with her within a second (even when she hasn't ever done the move before).

The thing is Yelena is not a visual thinker, not like Kate clearly is. But she now finds her brain conjuring thoughts in full color and motion, not just during the drift but also just before sleep takes her or right as she wakes. A byproduct of drifting with Kate, and one she doesn't mind as much as she thought she would.

And, Yelena muses early that day on their way to their next drifting session, if they continue like this there's a chance they can be put in the field early too.

Kate herself is as eager as ever, the two walking in step to the cockpit to dress up in their drivesuits.

“We're going to nail it today, yeah?” Kate says, flexing an arm and wagging her eyebrows. And if Yelena is momentarily distracted by the bulge of muscle that peaks through the under suit? 

Kate’s grin turns into a smirk.

Yelena scoffs and picks up the conversation again. “You say that every time.”

“Yeah, and? We nail it every time!” Kate says, exuberance making her stretch her arms out wide as she gestures and Yelena instinctively ducks out of the way as she does.

She shakes her head. “You're so ridiculous.”

They arrive and begin the process of getting the drivesuit on, at this point for Kate and Yelena its routine enough to do it in their sleep — but, again, this is the point, they may need to suit up right after waking at some point and stumbling around is not the way to go.

They connect to the drift and the strong presence of Kate enters the headspace they share. She's calm and confident and it's (as always) infectious enough that she feels good about it too.

Today is a special day, they're ready to face their first combat simulation — the easiest to fight, Drones. Their real strength is in their numbers, and the coordination they receive from the hivemind. But for the first time, one or two Drones should be a piece of cake, and will be good metric to test how ready they are for more.

They warm up by walking, and the drift has been brimming with excitement from Kate, her thoughts are ‘I'm so ready!’ and ‘We're going to crush it !’ and ‘I've never seen one from a Jaeger , I bet it looks so small! We're so high up, this will be so cool!’ and all kinds of variations of those phrases, which doesn't die out or even dull the first thirty minutes.

They can first hear the Drones, two of them, flying down. It would be intimidating from the ground as a person, these things could be the size of a house. But these merely come up to the Jaeger’s knees, their big, bug-like eyes stare up at them.

‘Aw,’ Kate is thinking. ‘They're like weird dogs!’

And Yelena supposed she can see it, the big eyes and slouching bodies, the backwards bending hind legs. Kind of gross, but more than dogs, it reminds her of —

‘Smeagol, yes!’ Kate thinks back to her. 

‘It's the sad, wet look.’ She thinks, and Kate grimaces, picturing a squished and rotted tomato she had fished from the back of her fridge once, the shimmer of juices is reminiscent of the shine to the Drone’s bodies.

Yelena grimaces in return, ‘Kate Bishop!’

“Sorry, sorry.” Kate says, and together they go into a fighting stance.

The thing no longer big enough to be intimidating, the image of dogs still swimming in her brain, together make for a rather unfortunate thought that she immediately pushes down before it can finish forming.

They make quick work of the Drones, Kate’s rapid thinking brings Yelena a series of images — nearly a video in the way they come one after the other with such speed, and Yelena shuffles in her own ideas immediately. Kick at one, (REB boost) spin, dodge and roll to avoid the attack of the other, and (hydraulic push to close the distance and) kick at the other.

The Drones are standard variants and so, in a matter of seconds and one smooth motion transitioning to the next, they've been entirely flattened.

Kate cheers in excitement; it's not always that easy, the variance in Drone bio-makeup means that occasionally some are very tough, very big, or much faster. And by sheer numbers alone (coming in the dozens, and at a couple of memorable and horrible events they even came in the hundreds), this means there's at least a few a fight that are surprising. And the surprise, she guesses, is the most dangerous part.

Kate shoots her a glance, and a thought, ‘Alright, spoilsport.’

Yelena shakes her head. “We were pretty impressive.” She says out loud.

And Kate, easily enthused, does a mental fist pump. “Right? I don't mean to brag, but we can totally take on like twenty more of those.”

In her mental calculations, she's picturing a few scenarios, of a couple to a few dozen of the Drones and the speed in which they dispatched these. It could be getting ahead of themselves, and yet the assuredness of Kate (and the truly impressive speed they accomplished their first fight), she finds she agrees. The mentally conjured scenarios show them moving with the same grace and speed, able to dispatch the crowd with relative ease.

Kate performs another mental fist pump. It's good that Kate’s fighting style (acrobatic and quick-thinking) is well suited to the lightweight Jaeger, in fact she thinks Kate would struggle with something bulkier.

Kate pictures the biggest Jaeger, Brawler Romeo, lumbering around, and Yelena pictures the superpowers and enhancements of the co-pilots, so the thing is extra harder to move. This combined to show the pair of them, red-faced and huffing as the Jaeger takes a single step.

Yelena shakes her head. “Just ridiculous. Good thing you got Dark Talon instead.”

“Right? I think I'd probably die if I had to move that.” Kate says. “What do you think though, want to try more?”

“Dottie,” She says into the comm. “Jump up the numbers to a dozen?”

“Got it.” Dottie says back.

The air fills with the sounds of Drones, buzzing and loud, the sort of thing that typically struck fear into the people who heard it. But right now, in the Jaeger, they look somewhat annoying and swattable.

The dozen Drones are dispatched with a similar ease, the quick motions and dodges keeps them from being surrounded and put into a bad place. This is very good to Yelena. She can't wait for Dottie to include all this in their report to Fury.

They disconnect from the simulation. Kate is spending the time thinking about having a little celebratory snack with dinner, so long as the baker makes some chocolate chip cookies or the little cakes.

After they remove the Drivesuit, Yelena can tell by the way the engineers have stopped them to talk over the simulation — the combat controls, potential neural delay, and all the sorts of things a first time combat would tell them needs adjusting — that they will be late for dinner.

And so forty minutes go by as things get recalibrated for them, and then Kate starts talking to the engineers, starry-eyed, about an idea she has. And even though Yelena would normally be a little lost, Kate’s engineering degree naturally defines the jargon and terminology in her brain. ( Flywheel: stores inertia energy proportional to its rotation speed ), given to her by the still lingering ghost drift connection.

She should've pulled her along, but whatever it is Kate is saying has started to gather a small crowd of designers, engineers, and technicians. Yelena knows enough to know it's the bow that Kate’s been working on updating herself, poring over the schematics in her free time. Yelena has her own things to add at times, her limited experience with ranged Jaeger weapons filling in the gaps Kate has lacking in practical experience.

So another thirty minutes go by before they're both heading to the cafeteria. This does mean by this time all the good food is gone and they're left with picking over the (now dry) barbecue chicken.

“Ugh.” Kate says, thunking her head onto the desk and fixing her with a very sad expression. “I missed the lava cakes, Yelena.”

“Yes, I'm very sorry.” Yelena pats her shoulder.

“Lava cakes.” And she looks very upset, not that Yelena can blame her. The baker really knows how to make good desserts and this very dessert will likely not pop up again for a few months. 

She could —

Kate sits up, “You can do that?” She suddenly looks very excited. “You would do that?”

And the look she fixes Yelena is a combination of sad puppy and overly hopeful. She will do it. “Yes, Kate. I can get you some chocolate.”

“Yes! Okay, I so owe you for it, but yes!” She cheers, and gives her a bright grin.

Which is how, hours after the kitchen crew has turned in for the night, Yelena finds herself sneaking into the pantry.

No one should be here, she thinks, so it's startling for her to see Clint Barton stealing a small handful of caramels.

His eyes are wide and caught, but he relaxes when he sees it's Yelena. She rolls her eyes and brushes past him to where the baker keeps his dark chocolate (lock easily bypassed with a small length of wire).

Task complete, she goes to leave but she can see Clint is lingering. Maybe he heard about their really successful (and really easy) combat simulation and wants to comment on it.

She'd really rather avoid it, but he is here, and there's still all the things she didn't know about Natasha and him and the drift that she now cares to know. Now, desperate, she finds the desire to know overcoming good sense.

“Yelena.” He says, as a tentative greeting by the sound of his voice. She'd lingered too long for it to be passed off as anything but a desire to talk, so she sighs.

“Barton.” She says, and sighs again, not bothering to disguise the rude abruptness in her voice as anything else.

The silence continues, uncomfortably and tense. She should leave, has not planned to speak to Clint so soon (has not planned this at all, beyond the vague thoughts she had days ago), in fact if she could conjure the information with dark magic she would have already begun sacrificing virgins.

“You and Natasha.” She hedges carefully, her eyes going to him briefly. “Was it also like that between you two? The drift?”

He closes his eyes and leans against the prep counter. “What do you mean?” He asks nearly a full minute later, after he opens his eyes, which stare into hers, squinted and shining with unshed tears. Ugh.

“You know. Was it…” Vivid, she thinks. But that's not quite right. Ecstatic, she thinks. But that doesn't make sense. “When I drift with Kate it's unlike anything I've ever experienced.”

He lets out a slow breath. “I… I'm not sure.” He says.

And she feels a spike of annoyance — at herself for subjecting herself to Clint Barton, and at Clint Barton for the way this conversation is useless.

“Nat, she…” He stops and runs a hand through his hair. “She did say it was different. With me. She'd show me, in the drift, her memories. Of the Black Widow Program. Of you and the others.”

She clenches her fist, her mind jumping immediately to defensiveness. We had no choice, she wants to shout. But it wouldn't be him who needed to hear that. “And?” She prompts instead.

“I just… I'm… what you guys went through, its not like that with A-Squad.” Clint says, finally looking at her, looking apologetic and sorry and all kinds of things he has no right to.

“I know that.” She says, annoyed again, petulance leaking into her tone, and she bites back a petty and defensive desire to tac on ‘The A-Squad will never compare’ , but it feels too cruel, not just to him but to the Widows who were perfect without choice.

Clint sighs and looks away again. “Right, I didn't mean… I just think what Nat and I had would be naturally different. Because of that. The same is true for you and Kate.”

She thinks of the overflow of emotion, how Kate’s energy and enthusiasm for life is tender and warm and abundant, like an infection. How it's like she's been starved for color and Kate is a kaleidoscope. How the realness and everything else should feel similar enough to hurt (to scrape, to grate, to erode), but it isn't. And how she wishes she got more about drifting with him from Natasha than “I hope one day you understand.”

“Natasha, did she —” Did she draw the same comparisons? Draw the same lines Yelena is to see if it ever crossed it? But it feels too vulnerable to say to Clint, even though he knew Natasha best. She swallows, suddenly feeling lost and aimless. “Nevermind. Great talk, Barton.” She says, shoving her hands casually into her pants pockets and turning to the exit.

“Yelena, wait.” And he steps up to her, holds a hand out like he's going to put it on her arm and stop her, a mistake he stops himself from making, his hand instead swinging back to his side.

She looks at him expectantly. And she thinks, if he apologizes again that she will scream. She will scream and scream and —

“Thank you,” He says, and her mouth opens in surprise. He continues, “You're good for Kate. She's… she's had a lot happen, and well I'm sure you know by now. She hasn't had a lot of people in her corner. So, thank you.”

She shakes her head. “They were fools.” Anyone would have to be to not choose her, she can tell even now that Kate’s not someone she would bet against.

The smile he gives is fond. “Yeah. No kidding.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, a mirror of her. And she's struck by the way their lives are so tangentially connected after everything — first with Natasha, and now with Kate. He looks sad again, but says “You… you can talk to me, about… stuff. If you ever… like we just did, you know.”

“Hm.” Is all she says, mentally telling herself she probably won't do this again. It was too much like holding a hot knife, worried if she would burn or cut herself first before she dropped it. “Later, Barton.”

“Yelena.” He says with a nod.

She returns to her room and Kate is laying on the top bunk, leg sticking up and bent at the knee. “Hey!” She says.

Yelena holds up the stolen chocolate bars and tosses one to Kate. The others she shoves into the desk drawer.

“Yes!” Kate says, snagging it from the air before it can land on her face.

Yelena climbs up to Kate’s bed. “Push over.” She says, a bit redundantly as the second her arms hook over the edge Kate's already doing so.

Kate sits up, frowns a little, but when Yelena only settles down to read the romance novel she pilfered from Kate’s stack of books, she just goes back to scrolling on her phone.

She gets about thirty words in before she sets the book down and eyes Kate. Kate lowers her phone.

“So Kate,” She says finally.

“Yes?” Kate says, opening the chocolate bar, wrapper crinkling in the silence that follows.

“Are you going to tell me where we're going in the city?” She asks. She thought she'd be able to trick Kate into giving it away in the drift, but she's had no luck with that.

Kate shakes her head, and looks amused. “Nope! And buttering me up by stealing the baker’s chocolate won't work.”

She sighs. “Kate,”

“Yelena,” Kate returns, popping a piece of the chocolate into her mouth.

“Засранец.” She curses lightly.

Kate’s brows raised in shock. “Wait,” She sits up straight. “Little shit?” She says.

She squints. “Have you been learning Russian curses?”

“Nope.” And Kate’s grinning. “Say something else!”

“Жопа.” She says.

“Ass!” Kate exclaims, looking at first excited, but then the context seems to translate too — a bad situation.

“My thoughts exactly.” Yelena says dryly.

Kate frowns. “You… don't think this is good.”

Yelena sighs, and can tell she felt close to panic ( is she overreacting? Likely). “No, it's not bad.” She concedes.

Kate’s foot uncoils from beneath her and entangles with Yelena’s leg. “I think it's pretty cool. Goodbye Duolingo app.”

She huffs a laugh despite the way her mood (only just beginning to lift in Kate’s presence) soured. “It just seems too soon to me.”

Kate shrugs, completely content. She'd been picturing screaming, clutching of heads, a sudden desire to halt the world. It was a near thing for herself.

She takes a deep breath and smiles. “If you're good with it, so am I.” She says, and it's a little bit of a lie. She's not okay with it. But she thinks she could be if she gives herself time.

“I mean, I'm the one who’s really benefitting here. Isn't Russian like, the hardest language to learn?” Kate says, eating another piece of chocolate.

“I've heard it's up there with Arabic.” Yelena says, and wonders if Kate will pick up all the languages Yelena knows, wonders if the same was true for Barton.

“And what do you think you'll pick up? My incredible aim? My great sense of humor?”

“What's wrong with my sense of humor?” She asks, kicking her leg out and putting it on top of Kate’s.

“Nothing!” Kate waves a hand, chocolate threatening to fly from its wrapper, “But it could be even better.”

“I give you Russian, and you give me shit.” She says, entirely too seriously that it loops back around to being a joke.

Kate rolls her eyes. “No way. You're going to get my amazing charm.”

Yelena laughs now, a little too hard, and Kate responds by throwing her other foot over Yelena’s leg with a huff.

“Ah, Kate. We won't merge personality traits. We have to hit over 99% for that.” Yelena says, wiping a fake tear from her eye. And it's not necessarily true. Every drift they'll leave bits of themselves behind in the other’s mind, like a car scraping by another. But the amount transferred is small, it will take time before they're noticeably in sync, even when they're not drifting. Less than she initially projected at the rate they're going. (And she remembers the interview with Barton and Natasha, the way their laugh went in and out together, heads tipping back the same, all Jaeger co-pilots were like this eventually.)

“Okay, so you do think I'm charming.” Kate says with a grin.

“Kate Bishop, you're so annoying. This is your takeaway from my incredibly knowledgeable and intelligent statement? I take it back. We should definitely go higher so you can become smarter.”

“Um, okay, and who graduated Summa Cum Laude? Me.” Kate points to herself, a smug smirk on her face.

“Who?” Yelena says, putting on an exaggerated frown.

“I said me.” Kate says, smirking still, taking a chocolate piece and throwing it at Yelena.

“Me?” Yelena points to herself, letting the chocolate bounce off her forehead and get lost in the tangle of blankets. This is not her bed so she doesn't care. “Thank you! I didn't know I had it in me.”

“Now who's annoying.” Kate mutters, patting around, looking for the lost chocolate, having realized her mistake too late.

“Oh, still you. For sure.” She plucks the rest of the bar from Kate’s distracted hand and takes a big bite from the whole of it.

Kate’s eyes flash. “Oh, it's on.” She reaches over and grabs at the chocolate, but Yelena locks her legs to keep Kate from sliding up and lifts her arm higher, making Kate’s fingers brush uselessly against her forearm.

Kate huffs and leans back, arms crossing over her chest. “Nope, you're definitely more annoying. For sure.”

Yelena throws the now half eaten bar back at Kate. Her mouth has that sticky, cottony feeling of rich chocolate melting. She gives Kate a (very gross, very chocolatey) grin.

Kate looks suitably grossed out, and continues her hunt for the stray piece. Finding it, she plucks it from her leg and tosses it (without looking) at the trash (it makes it in because of course, and Kate knows this and Yelena can tell she feels smug).

The silence elapses as they go back to reading (Yelena) and being on their phone (Kate).

She gets about fifty words more before she sighs and closes the book. “Are you really okay with that though?” She says, earlier fears not even close to assuaged.

Kate looks up from her phone. “I mean, yeah. It's not like you've… I don't know, hijacked me or forced the language onto me. I just… understood it.”

Yelena lets out a slow breath. She supposes she can see the distinction when it's put like that, especially when she knows that Kate knows. “Yeah, okay, true enough. I just don't want this to become… like that for you.” 

Kate nods, setting her phone down. “Okay, well, if it's ever too much for me we'll stop, take a break, yeah?”

A part of her beating heart slows down, and she swallows the tension in her jaw. “Okay, good. Tell me, too, so we can both know.”

She believes if nothing else that Kate is a force of personality, a person so sure of herself that it would be hard to erase. Not the death of her father, no misunderstanding of her from her mother, nor underestimation from her boss. Through all of that she was still Kate, when other (lesser) people might break away and cease to be. (And that's a certain kind of unmaking to survive, isn't it?)

Kate reaches over and puts her hand on her shin. She pats it gently, and Yelena gives a smile in return. Kate lingers, her thumb absently brushing, it's calloused and calming and Yelena feels the tension in her shoulders relax.

“And you?” Kate asks, and now Yelena tilts her head in confusion.

“What do you mean? And me what?”

“What should I look out for so it's not like that for you?”

The exhale Yelena gives is somewhere between surprise and a sigh. She wasn't expecting the question to be turned around on her, and now she finds herself put on the spot. She wishes she could say ‘You would know’, but how can she when even she cannot be sure herself. To her own experience it was all at once and overwhelming, none of this slow bleed crap. Before Kate, if she was ever unsure, it was easier to tell with Natasha here, a bad compare and contrast. Holding up a mirror that was really a window — ‘is she me? Am I her?’ And she could find all the ways she wasn't from physical to personality. Now there was just herself and the mirror and the attempt at convincing the person she sees is her. 

She thinks back to her first drift with Kate — the way it reminded her so much of the Black Widow Program, the one-ness of it. But she had still  come away from that as herself (had in fact maintained being herself throughout), despite everything that told her that shouldn't be so. Was there something about the Black Widow Program that made it different before? Or is it Kate now? She should really question Barton more thoroughly. Maybe. Would that even mean anything with a sample size of two? 

“I don't know.” She says finally, damningly. “But I will know.” She says, because she will, because she's been looking for the signs and finding none. If anything, she’s been finding more of herself in the drift with Kate. Like somehow (without trying, without knowing, simply by being) Kate is providing a safe backdrop to define herself against.

“Okay.” Kate says, giving her shin one final swipe with her thumb before pulling away and snapping off a piece of chocolate.

Their drift sync being so strong makes for some interesting complications. 

When passing on her piloting and drifting knowledge to the Avengers, she was lucky if she got above a 92%. Which was plenty for what was needed, even if the lower rates meant more sessions were needed. But it was, admittedly, a point of pride. She could say to herself she'd never get a high drift sync with anyone, she could be herself this way, unyielding. Natasha had hit it off with some and could stomach the higher drift sync rates, (Barton being a prime example), but for the most part, they were on the same page — no more opening themselves up to that.

It'd been a little reckless of her, to let her drift sync go wherever it wanted when she rejoined the Jaeger Program. It was almost like a dare, to see if it could consume her like before (and if it did, maybe that wouldn't be so bad, and if it didn't then, well, she still got to be herself). Her and John Walker were both thickheaded, clearly, and that worked against them when trying to find the middle ground of the drift. But she didn't feel bad for not bending when he didn't either.

Which is why it's still a mystery that her and Kate seem to be going so high, without any dampening of the self on her part. Was that her, or Kate, or both?

But, the side effects of drifting with a high sync rate are fairly annoying. The ghost drifting that lingers, the sharing of emotions and memories that she was more than happy to have kept somewhere deep inside her (all unearthed by Kate’s easy smile and caring nature).

The worst, of course, was right now. Kate Bishop lounging on Yelena’s bed and craving something sweet. Now Yelena's craving something sweet. It's not like they're ghost drifting (probably), but she previously found the baker's desserts a bit cloying oftentimes, so the new sensation is a marvel for five seconds. Until she has all this want and no way to fulfill it. Then it became annoying.

“Kate,” She says.

“Yelena.” Kate says, sparing a single glance from her phone.

“I have a question for you.”

Kate sets her phone down. “Okay?” She looks wary, likely because Yelena’s tone was somewhat stilted.

“How do you live like this?”

Kate gives a startled laugh. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Ugh, all I can think about is that damn fruit tart.”

“Oh God, right? I can't wait.” Kate sits up excitedly, but the question still quirks her mouth and she says, “But what's that have to do with… sorry, what’s your question?”

“It's just so annoying, wanting this thing and not having it yet. How do you live with it?” Yelena asks.

“Oh, that. Well.” Kate’s face slowly scrunches in thought, head tilting. Finally with an answer she smiles, “I guess it's fine to wait when I know there’ll be payoff.”

“And if there isn't? Like what if there's no fruit tart by the time we get there.” She says, nearly adds on ‘You'll have had all this want and with nothing to show’ . The idea of there not being a fruit tart tonight is devastating, the worst thing that could happen to her day right now.

“I'd be disappointed for sure. I mean you've seen those things, right? It's like, the perfect bite. But I see what you mean. How do you live with the risk of disappointment, right?”

“Exactly.” She says, her own disappointments piling high behind her, and she's only hoped for so little — a life with her sister, a quiet peace to relax in, a dog — and she has none of that.

“I guess I'm okay with disappointment.” Kate says and by Yelena’s confused frown, she continues. “Like, okay, in the grand scheme of things it's just a fruit tart. No big deal. But for the big stuff…” Here she falls silent, trying to find the words. Yelena (very patiently!) waits, and when Kate gets it her face brightens. “Okay, if I've done something that disappoints myself, I’ll try and do better next time. But if it's something or someone else then I either talk to them or adjust my expectations. Like what if it was on me? I can't expect the best from everyone and everything and be disappointed when it doesn't happen, like sometimes that's on them but sometimes that's also on me for expecting too much. You know?”

“Ah, Kate.” She says, finding only work in her answer. (And other things besides, such as — how has Kate arrived at this point of view? Being let down enough times herself? Or does forgiveness just come easily to her?) And for Yelena it's easy enough for her to blame anyone for anything, especially for the ways they let her down.

Kate laughs, picking her phone up again. “What? You wanted to know.”

She huffs. “Yes, but I was hoping for ‘Money solves all my problems’ or something, not this ‘Let them get away with being horrible’.”

She gives Yelena an amused smile. “Well, okay, money does help sometimes. But that's definitely not what I said.”

“No? Hm. Must be disappointing to hear.” She says, and laughs when Kate rolls her eyes and goes back to her phone. As soon as a few seconds pass, Yelena continues, “So we should go bribe the baker for first pick at desserts.”

“He won't.” Kate says, and something in her tone (mournful? Knowing?)… It gives Yelena the vibe of someone hiding something.

“Know by experience, do you?”

“Yes — well, not first hand experience. But yes, he won't take bribes.” Kate says, and Yelena believes she didn't try to bribe the baker. It must have been Barton, then.

“A drunken baker with standards.” Yelena gives a sharp ‘tsk’. “How annoying.” She thinks there could be a few ways she could coerce the baker, and makes a mental note to explore them further at some point.

Kate just shrugs. “Well, at least someone in the building has them.”

This is hardly a balm to the craving that itches at her brain, begging to be sated. But for now, she thinks they can go to their next drifting session in 30 minutes, and that should take her mind off things.

However it seems like the desire doesn't go away. As soon as they drift, Yelena sees in her mind's eye the perfect bite: strawberries, blueberries, and kiwi on a custard tart, glistening with a glaze of apricot jam. Beautiful. 

Amusement rolls through the drift from Kate. Which mixes horribly because next she's picturing Kate, plucking a fruit tart from a tray, bringing it up to her mouth, but pausing first to lick her lips and throw Yelena a wink.

She takes a deep breath, trying to clear the image from her mind — this is not the time or place.

But Kate’s already picked up the emotion — desire and want and it feeds into itself — Kate’s now picturing Yelena. Sitting across from her, smirking in amusement. She leans down and the shirt she wears sags a little, showing cleavage.

Before they can go into a full blown fantasy, Yelena imagines the cold plunge she took one morning when she first moved into the house in Maryland. It was cold and biting — Natasha had laughed, calling it a “Russian Wake Up Call”, and the pair emerged from the water, skin pale, lips blue, and goosebumps crawling up their flesh. She conjures the coldness now, the way it enveloped completely, worsened by the biting wind that chilled with every blow.

Kate shivers and the fantasy vanishes and the Drift-Yelena (who had been giving Kate a smirk that was equal parts amused and seductive) vanishes.

The embarrassment is short lived on both their parts as they share a glance and laugh. Yelena feels relieved, desire is not new to her, but she hasn't shared that in such a casual yet intimate way. More than relieved, she's grateful to all her training, that it lets the emotion slide past with only minimal disruption.

The drift sync stabilizes and the simulation begins. They haven't yet worked up to fighting even the most minor of Kaiju yet, but Yelena suspects Dottie will send one to them soon. The Drones and Scouts they've fought were nearly a breeze, so a Category 0 Kaiju is the next step.

But they've got only a couple of days until their day off, and Yelena doesn't know how (or if) that'll factor in. 

This isn't today though, as they go through a much more rigorous and drawn out combat, one that lasts nearly their whole drifting time (with new waves coming in just as they finish the last one). 

It's challenging in a different way, and by the time they finish they feel mentally and physically drained, but in a rewarding way. They nailed it.

“Yeah we did!” Kate cheers, energy renewed as they both head to dinner early.

She also cheers mentally when they arrive and see that there's still fruit tarts left. As they dig in, she finds that the desire to have had one makes the taste better: richer, sweeter, and satisfying. If this is what waits for Kate when she yearns for a treat, she thinks she can understand desire a little better.

Her and Kate lock eyes after dinner, and she knows some of her want (Kate, winking; Kate, with a cocky grin; Kate, with her nimble and long fingers, able to draw back fifty pounds on their own) passes to Kate and the look they share is heated. Here is another side effect of the high drift sync: the feedback loop of feeling. She wonders if she were to reach out and touch Kate the way she wants — what would she feel?

Kate bites her lip and her eyes wander (she can track it — Yelena’s lips, to her jaw, down her neck, to her breasts —), and she can picture it: the way they would cross the room and reach other, hands roaming as they want. Would the skin be as soft as she imagines? Could she take time to enjoy the taut skin pulled over firm muscle, the way she wants? And from the drift Kate thinks, 'yes, god,' as she too pictures Yelena, leaning back on the bed and letting Kate run a hand up her thigh, coming to rest at her hips, tugging at her pants. This would be so easy for them to do, she thinks, to cross the bridge from want to action.

“I'm sorry,” Kate says suddenly, the image shutting out as through the ghost drift Kate pictures a big, orange cat flopped over on some pavement, belly up, paws curled, and looking very sweet.

“It's — it's fine.” Yelena manages to say, sinking into the office chair, feeling disappointed and relieved at once.

The smile Kate gives is a little crooked, and arousal lingers between them, hardly abated despite the short stop. “Okay, but we should really talk about this.”

“Mm.” Yelena says, distracted again (or Kate is, it's hard to tell right now), as she watches Kate tuck an errant strand behind her ear, exposing a length of neck as she does so. “Yes, probably we should talk.”

Kate gets up, face flushed still and begins pacing. “We gotta separate.”

“I'll go for a walk.” Yelena says, getting up and leaving the room.

And so, they separate. But technically distance only helps remove each other from line of sight, the drift has no known limits for how far to go before it cuts out, and at the very least the limit doesn't exist inside the Shatterdome.

This is how Yelena gets first hand experience, as she goes for a walk: a walk that finds her climbing up and up until she reaches one of the many roofs of this ugly structure (some cross between modern and brutalism, thick concrete and sharp angles, looking indomitable even from up here).

The physical activity is good, distracting enough for her, and in the drift she can see Kate’s taken to a training room, practicing Kendo on a wooden dummy.

Yelena looks up at the evening sky, and practices a moment of mindfulness: something she once found completely useless, but she needs to think about something that isn't the low hum of arousal, or Kate.

The sky, so beautiful, she tells herself. The city in the backdrop is nice, from here she can see the skyscrapers stretching backwards from the middle ground into the distance. New York is lovely this time of year, at spring time just before summer — warm air with enough chill in the breeze to keep from being hot. But up here the wind is stronger, making it chillier.

And the noise is distracting, even up here there's the sounds of work being done, in this instance, it's a new telescope being installed a few balconies down. This makes sense, astronomers will be looking for voids in the light of space that tell them where and if any other Wiwaxians may be coming down. So close to the city the evening sky gives up no secrets, light pollution still quite bad, but within a few weeks the Kaiju will be visible at any time of day — a shining star and portent of doom.

This is a sobering thought, and together they both calm down enough to talk.

Yelena sits down, feet dangling off the edge of the roof. Were she to look down she would find another roof six meters away, the awkward building having gone through expansions at different points so portions of it spread up and out in all directions.

‘So,’ Kate thinks, the thought hesitant. ‘We should talk about that.’

‘Seems to me like we wanted to do more than talk.’

Amusement rolls through, and Kate includes the mental image of herself rolling her eyes for good measure. ‘Yeah, well, not that I'm not interested, because I am, I mean wow, have you seen you? I just, I mean the other day, I thought you weren't ready?’

Yelena isn't sure herself. Before Kate, she chased pleasure like anything else — the feeling electric until it eventually died out, and then after that it was just a series of sensations she could catalogue with some interest, sated but ultimately boring. But she has eyes, Kate is hot, and she thinks they would have fun together. If they weren't drift partners would she have tried to pursue something, if only for the novelty? 

‘I think I'm not ready,’ She tells Kate finally. ‘The interest is there, yes. But, I don't know.’ It feels wrong to chase the heady emotions simply for her own enjoyment, she doesn't say, because it sounds stupid, not when Kate clearly reciprocates. But the idea of pursuing the emotion until it bleeds dry makes the whole thing seem not worth it. She'd rather have Kate just like this, enjoying the way they drift together, enjoying building whatever they have going on, and maybe when she's sure the emotion will last she can feel more confident about it.

‘Okay, well whenever you want to do this…’ and in the drift Kate presents the vague idea of readiness, of willingness, eagerness even.

‘Okay.’ She thinks, and lets the emotion wash over her and slip away. ‘I just need time,’ She thinks, and in the drift she feels relief from Kate, at the very least of reaching a conclusion now, even if the conclusion was nothing more than wait.

As the ghost drift fades, she returns to the dorm. It's nice, kind of, to know she can take time with Kate to figure all that out. It also feels strange to know the emotion is shared and the only thing stopping it is herself, as if she ever would've before.

It's Kate, she decides. Something about Kate makes her want to slow down and try for once.

Chapter Text

Razvedchik: These Wiwaxians are found alone or, rarely, in pairs. Scientists theorize that they perform the role of scouts: reporting back to the hivemind such things as the terrain, climate, and population; but this is not yet verified. What they lack in strength and numbers they make up for in evasive maneuvers and a surprisingly durable exoskeleton. A breakthrough process was recently discovered in reshaping the carapace without compromising the hardness. Turn to page 19 to read the full Abstract published by Dr. Brennett (2024). The possibilities for use of the carapace has grown from this new process, including for body armor.

• An article published in The Scientist Journal (2024).

Now at night, with Kate sleeping so peacefully above her, she has the time to finally dive back into her looking into Kate a bit more, but more tangentially than she originally planned their first week together.

She's pulled up the information on Bishop Security itself. The company is interesting enough, with a somewhat recent shift in going for more cutting-edge technology and better benefits for the employees; something the 42% majority shareholder Kate Bishop must have led the charge on.

What she's specifically looking for here though, this night and the last couple nights, is for any links to the Red Room. It feels sneaky, to do this behind Kate’s back about her own company, and a part of her feels guilty — but not enough to stop. If there's truly nothing like Kate says, then she'll find nothing, no harm done. If there is a connection between Bishop Security, WCO, and any Red Room research, it's more important to find that out, to have something more concrete to give Kate — or perhaps take care of herself without needing to worry her.

So as has become routine lately, she looks into the company servers (a backdoor helpfully provided by Sonya). The things she finds are… boring. Completely and utterly boring. So many little plans about job sites, installations, fiscal reports. This will surely put her to sleep, and it usually does, with her waking at some point in the night to unbury her phone and set it on the charger.

But she finds something, a little tucked away in redundant looking folders labeled ‘Chariity Drives ‘20 - ‘24’. Except it's both misspelled and not how the meticulous company has sorted files like this. The discrepancy makes her suspicious and as she opens it she feels herself alert as she begins to dig.

Innocuous, so it would seem. Transfer of funds, to shell companies, routed several times, and going through several name changes as it goes, until it's no longer innocent looking at all and she hasn't even reached the end of the trail yet. She feels pleased at being able to trace it — whoever orchestrated it is good. Eleanor Bishop herself? Someone or many someones from the company? Perhaps Wilson Fisk himself? Any WCO members involved, as she suspects?

Well, one doesn't need to have prior knowledge of the successful attempts the Red Room had to want to do it themselves, it's hardly original as far as ideas go. But such development takes years — it took Red Room scientists years, after all — so, if their research seems far ahead of itself, it should be good proof of someone leaking information they shouldn't be.

But all this she's found isn't proof of wrongdoing, or even proof that it's linked to the Red Room. It could be boring stuff like drugs, money laundering, gambling, whatever. She could be getting ahead of herself here.

But it is… something. This, and a nagging feeling pulls at her instinct, tells her it's a thread she needs to follow.

Above her, Kate turns over in her sleep, the metal frame creaking as she does so.

She listens to her breathing even out. She'll need to bring Kate in before she goes too far. An internal debate begins about where ‘too far’ is. Arguably what she's done so far could be classified as too far depending on the person. But, if she's already done this much, she should probably have proof, and not just strange money transfers and a hunch.

Settling in herself to get something more tangible than this, she digs further and by the time the night passes and their alarms go off, Yelena has something a little more by way of information and something partially resembling a plan.

Above her, Kate rolls over and turns off her alarm, groaning a little in annoyance before sitting up, stretching, and yawning.

She waits until they're mostly through their morning routine, and tries to time it between ‘Kate’s not awake enough yet’ and ‘too late to say anything’ when she springs the conversation onto Kate.

“Wait, what?” Kate says, toothbrush in one hand, foam dripping into the sink below. She leans over the sink and spits.

“Wilson Fisk is funding illegal research into mind control.”

“Right, that part I got. You said you found this on files from Bishop Security Servers?” Kate turns, wiping her hands on a purple hand towel absently and stepping out of the bathroom closer to Yelena in the main room. Her eyes flash, from the phone Yelena is offering back to her face, back to the phone again, back to her face. There's something in her eyes, like an uncertainty, as she grabs the phone and begins to follow the trail Yelena’s mapped for her.

Yelena hasn't considered Kate knew all along, it was too outlandish. And she's seen the way discovering her mother’s dirty secrets upset her in the drift, and the pains she's gone through to clean up the company since then, from top to bottom. But the flash of her expression looked close to guilt, of all things, and for a second Yelena feels her brain go into overdrive, taking in every minute change to Kate’s expression. Whatever doubt that brief flash brought her, they're instantly dashed watching Kate’s emotional journey. But it's not a revelation to see, it's upsetting: her face goes from apprehensive to angry to (worst of all) a little despairing as she digests the information.

She passes Yelena her phone back, lips pressed thin, face a little pale. “So, what're we going to do?”

Yelena stares back. There's a lot she could say. In fact, a few plans involved her going at it alone. Sure Kate Bishop could take whatever information uncovered, and she is grateful she's so willing to jump to action, but Kate doesn't deserve to have to keep going through her family’s shit. She lets out a sigh and pockets the phone, ready to argue against any action involving Kate — at least until strictly necessary — but, once again she finds she's giving in to Kate from just the look on her face alone. Then come all the reasons it's good for her to come: It'll be easier with Kate. It'll be safer with Kate. More than that, she wants Kate there by her side, watching her back and finding the angles Yelena might miss. “Well, it will ruin your day plans for the city if we do this.”

Kate nods once, sharply. “Okay.”

“You're sure?” Yelena asks, looking for any hints of disappointment or doubt, “I can do it alone, no problem.”

“No, we’ll go at it together. I want to.” Kate says, and there's a flash of guilt again, so quick she could miss it if she'd blinked, and even now as the expression turns over to thoughtful, she thinks she may have imagined its presence, but all the same something in her mind kicks over at the expression. “I think the fun parts were at night anyway.”

She blinks, the time to dig deeper passing, and even if it didn't, she doesn't know what she'd say. Is the guilt unfounded? She quickly decides it must be the case. The Kate she's been coming to know would be at odds with wanting to recreate mind control. She has to believe this is true if only for her own sanity, and for all the ways it simply doesn't make sense. But… She shakes her head. “It shouldn't take more than a few hours, so still time to enjoy the night, I think. I have some friends in the city who can help lay some of the groundwork before we get there. In and out. No one will know we've done anything until it's too late.”

Kate nods again. “Alright, and what's the plan so far?”

Yelena lays it out for her, the vague thoughts mostly coming together as she talks — this is not her first time infiltrating something in the name of eradicating the remnants of the Red Room, but it is her first time needing to think about infiltration and espionage for a non-Widow. 

To her great surprise, the plan giving turns into a back and forth. Well, it really isn't surprising on second thought. Kate is the majority owner of a Security Company, it makes sense that she'd know something about this. 

So, they wind up eating into their individual training (to Barton’s annoyance when he calls Kate to see where she is). After that Kate rushes through getting ready and takes off, and Yelena hangs out in their room playing hooky to put finishing touches to the plan, to spin the plan in her mind and see if they've forgotten something crucial. She's pleased at how thoroughly and quickly it came together with Kate’s help.

There's also Fisk, but she hasn't yet decided the direction she wants to go with him. On one hand, he needs to be dealt with or he'll keep trying to find more ways to get his hands on mind control. On the other he does a good job exposing the corrupt members of the WCO by greasing their palms. But what to do with him is a far later thing to think about, and starting with finding the lab and destroying the research is a good first step.

She makes her way to breakfast and Kate catches up with her.

“So!” Kate starts exuberant and distractedly piling her tray high with fruit, then a bagel, then a container of cream cheese, going down the line following Yelena and talking. “I was talking to Clint about this a little — no details!” She tacks on when Yelena gives her a sharp look. “But he has some ideas about this that I think you'll want to hear! They were pretty good! I guess he used to do stuff like this before he became a full-time Jaeger pilot?”

This Yelena did know, having received a dossier on the Avengers before going into training. This is how her and Natasha divvied up who would train who. Clint Barton: agent of SHIELD, assassin and retrieval specialist. At the time he sounded cool, and she lost a round of rock-paper-scissors to get him; but now? She couldn't have cared less for what way Clint Barton might have ideas for how to break and enter. But Kate looks pleased, excited even. “Okay, when are we meant to meet?”

This is how her entire free block is going to be spent today, with Clint Barton, instead of doing anything else. She tries not to let the idea ruin her mood, especially when Kate seems thrilled to bring him on board. If she didn't know any better, she'd suspect Kate was trying to get them to bond, but outside of just getting them in the same room today she's made no other attempts that support this.

They meet in Lo Hin Ranged Training Room, the very one the Hawkeyes have been using. Clint’s already there, waxing a bowstring with a look of concentration pinching his brows.

She looks around and Kate is nowhere in sight. Maybe she is trying to get them to bond.

“Barton.” She says stiffly, coming to a stop a little over a meter away and leaning on a decommissioned practice dummy.

“Yelena.” He greets, tone even as he glances at her briefly before returning to his work. “Kate gave me some information. You're going to infiltrate the Knifeheart Market?”

“Something like that.” She says, loath to even confirm this small bit of information. 

He hums thoughtfully and lets them fall into a less than companionable silence. The only sound is the rhythmic sliding vibration coming from the bowstring.

After a few minutes of itchy silence, she speaks, if only for something to do, more than the desire to speak to the man. “Kate said you had something useful to add to all this.”

“Yeah.” Clint says, carefully closing up the wax and giving the bow a test twang. Satisfied, apparently, he nods once and shoulders the bow. “I know someone who works there. A, ah, friend.”

She gives him a single nod to continue.

Clint runs a hand over his hair. “Look, the guy is undercover, so we’ve got to be careful —”

“We?” She says, and Clint sighs already, even though she's just one word into her thoughts. “Barton, there isn't a we, I am just here because you had information.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Clint says, carefully. “I didn't mean — I just meant, he can help you, but only so much.”

“Okay.” She says. “Is this all?”

“Technically —” he shrugs, looking a little put out. “I've infiltrated Fisk’s establishments before. I could offer information, pointers.”

“Yes, from like, fifteen years ago, probably.” Yelena says. His mouth twitches, briefly, but overall, he maintains his composure. “But fine, I won't kick a gift horse in the mouth.”

His mouth twitches in apparent amusement at her (purposeful) misspeaking of the idiom, but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he says: “Where are you trying to go in the Knifeheart Market?”

Now she sighs because — “I don't know the exact location yet. We're looking for a man, Dr. Weller. He's under Fisk’s protection, and we know he works in the market somewhere.”

“Okay, that's a good start. Let me make some calls, I can have a location for you in a day.”

“Okay, great.” She says, which isn't necessary, she's already asked Lerato to dig up information, and she should have a lot of details in hand within a few hours.

“And what's your plan for this guy?” Clint asks.

“Ah, so many questions, Barton!” She says. Where the hell was Kate? “First of all, I won't know until I get intel of my own. Secondly, he will probably die.”

Clint nods and opens his mouth. Whatever thing he might say — opinion or idea or whatever is interrupted by Kate running in.

“Hey, hey! Sorry I'm late.” She sets down three Gatorades. 

“What's this?” She points to them.

“Oh! Well, we're breaking bread together! Except there's no bread left in the commissary, so, I got us this.”

Yelena picks up a bottle. “And so, Gatorade?” She says, peering into the murky yet vivid blue bottle, and wondering how Kate’s mind went from bread to Gatorade, instead of bread to maybe some other bready snack, like pretzels.

“Yeah! C'mon, we all know blue is the best flavor.” Kate says, passing a bottle to Clint and taking one for herself. She watches Kate break the seal and hold the open bottle out for them to cheers.

Clint’s smiling and shaking his head in apparent fondness. He cracks open the bottle and does the same.

Well, now it's just awkward to simply drink it as she was planning to. She taps the plastic dully against their bottles and Kate gives a ‘cheers!’ with a grin so wide it makes up for the tense smile her and Barton have for each other.

The plan they give Barton is good. But Barton’s suggestions are so textbook they almost loop back around to being useful again. Almost. Suggesting they go at night, finding blueprints of the suspected building, shutting down Fisk’s servers. It's not like she hasn't considered or started these, she's not an amateur. But it does put these ideas onto Kate’s radar, and she can see the gears of her mind spinning to accommodate for them. 

Doubtless by the end of the day Kate will have her own plans for how they can incorporate these things. At first, she was willing to humor Barton for Kate, now she's ready to let Kate take the reins, with Yelena’s own information put in to guide it. It could be fun. It might even be less textbook than it started with Clint. Besides, her own internal plan was: get information, followed by informed improvisation that may or may not loosely follow a structure she's carried out hundreds of times before as a Black Widow. So, if all else fails she will go back to improvising.

The plan turns over in her mind throughout the day. It's looking more and more like there will have to be two phases. As her and Kate eat dinner, Kate gives her some ideas for the second part, while the first is almost completely unchanged from when she outlined it to Kate that morning.

It's a solid plan, she thinks, and begins to set it in motion with a few quick texts to some Widows who live in the city. They have tomorrow to lay out the groundwork, and the following day Kate and her have their day in the city.

They go to bed that night, and Yelena feels pretty satisfied with the direction they've taken so far, even with the way it had to come together so last minute.

She begins to be aware that she's dreaming. But — it's not her own. She could leave well enough alone, but Kate’s feeling a little panicked in her dream.

So, she enters. And what a mistake that is. She's immediately needing to duck and roll or be pelted by a hail of bullets.

Instead of wearing her own clothes, she's got the Black Widow suit she saw her sister wearing years ago on television. Very outdated, and also not to her own tastes.

“Ah, what the hell.” She grumbles, and inches forward to peak around the warehouse shelving she's taken cover next to. On the other side of the room she sees Kate, also crouched down.

“Kate Bishop!” One of the burly men says, a light machine gun in hand, looking every bit like a villain from a movie, right down to some kind of three-piece suit and curly goatee.

She's got to get to Kate, this is a little ridiculous.

The main man is giving threats more than he is giving orders to his cronies, which works in her favor, she can take out the guys who are on her ass right now, easy, and work her way across the warehouse floor to Kate.

So this is exactly what she does. 

First she pops around the shelf she's hiding behind to grab a guy by the collar and yank his forehead into her elbow, then she pulls the guy’s gun from his grasp and shoots the other goon further down.

She keeps the gun level as she quickly moves down the aisle, making a beeline toward Kate, pausing at every intersecting aisle to do a quick sweep as she goes.

“Yelena?” Kate asks, voice incredulous, surprised to see her here. She must not yet recognize the feeling of them sharing a dream yet, but knows enough to recognize that she's really Yelena and part of a dream. In the drift she can feel Kate’s panic subside into relief.

“Who's this loser?” She asks, pointing in the direction of the main guy, who’s still spewing threats and profanities.

Kate grimaces. “Gleb. He's one of Fisk’s guys.” 

She takes in Kate’s appearance. She looks alright, but there are scrapes and cuts along her face, and no speaking for what her clothing may be hiding. Speaking of, she's wearing some purple and black thing, leather and form fitting — meant to look good more than it is to offer protection. Her eyes go back to Kate’s who is also looking her up and down.

“Kate,” She doesn't get much further, because the foot falls of more men getting closer reach her ears.

She takes a knee and spins around the cover, spraying a wide arc of bullets that’s mostly effective in that it sends the men scrambling back, more than it actually injures them.

“What are you wearing?” Kate asks, coming around and aiming a bow over Yelena’s shoulder and firing off a smoke arrow — the aisle ahead of them fills with white smoke, obscuring them from view.

The pair get to their feet and run toward a window out that's a ways down past Kate. “I was going to ask you that. What is this, 2016 Black Widow garb?”

Kate sounds flustered as she responds, “Well! I don't know!”

“Something you wish to share?” Yelena asks, coming to a stop at the window and turning heel to watch Kate's back as Kate pries the window open.

“Definitely not! Nope!” Kate grunts, and when Yelena spares a glance over her shoulder, she can see Kate’s got the window a finger’s width up, and is shoving uselessly at it, and the tips of her ears are a bright cherry red. “Is this the time, anyway?”

“It's your dream, Kate Bishop!” Yelena tuts, and a hail of bullets embeds into the wall around them. Yelena ducks instinctively and opens fire randomly, but she can't see where the shots are coming from to lay good covering fire.

The window shrieks as the stiff, rusted metal inches up more and more, until it's finally open enough for Kate to slip through, boots clanging loudly against the rickety metal scaffolding. “Well! Your sister looked hot, okay? A lot of people thought she looked good in that suit, not just me.”

“Mhmm, and is that why I’m in it?” Yelena asks, climbing through the window after Kate. To her surprise, Kate climbs up instead of down as Yelena would have done, but this is not her dream, she follows after Kate instead of shouting instructions that might throw the whole thing off.

Dreams can pitch so easily into nightmares, something she wants to avoid — and following her own paths would probably quickly turn things into the things she expects instead of Kate — and she hardly ever expects anything good. So, the decision to stay on Kate’s six is easy and after two stories they reach the roof.

“You look good in it!” Kate defends. “I always thought you might, and it's true!” Kate peeks down the scaffolding after Yelena, and looks satisfied that they haven't yet been followed.

“Okay, firstly, this was done for promotions only. Seriously, a zip up the front suit? No good tac suit would do this.” Yelena says, finger idly flicking the zipper up by her collarbones.

Kate huffs, turns back around, grabs Yelena’s hand and takes off across the roof in a run. Yelena follows after her.

“Secondly, what are you wearing, Kate Bishop?” She continues, taking a moment to appreciate the way the pants make Kate’s ass look amazing.

A spark of amusement from Kate can be felt — that she definitely feels Yelena checking her out. “Okay, this is sort of what I imagined my Hawkeye suit would look like! It's good, right?”

“Very.” Yelena says, and they reach the other edge of the roof. She looks down and sees a grimy alley that's just like any other. “What's the plan, Kate?”

“Okay,” Kate shifts her weight from foot to foot, and spares a glance over her shoulder, then goes back to looking over the ledge. “So we'll get down with this rope arrow and head back to the penthouse. I can patch myself up there.”

Suddenly they're both standing in an elevator, going up. In the way that dreams have they've fast-forward through the boring parts, with only a strange recollection of vaguely leaving the rooftop and arriving here.

But she should know better of course, the earlier talk of Fisk, the presence of herself in Kate’s dream, as soon as the elevator door opens and there's this sound — so familiar, like distant ocean waves, but it isn't her who recognizes it, it's Kate.

In the drift she can feel the cold dread wash out everything else, making a shudder run down her own spine.

Her hand slips into Kate’s own, giving it a reassuring squeeze, their eyes meet, and Yelena can see uncertainty shining through, no not just uncertainty — she's lost.

“We go together.” Yelena says, giving her hand another squeeze.

Kate swallows, and shakes her head. “Just upstairs, the bathroom.” She says, a quiver in her voice, but then her face steels itself, and she marches across the lobby and up the grand staircase, even though overhead the chandelier shakes, the crystals clinking together as something distantly bangs — the dream, still playing out the way the memory does.

She's stubborn, she'll give Kate that. She has to wonder, in a battle of wills against her dreaming and conscious self, what will come out on top. She follows behind, seeing Kate’s shoulders square with defiance and ignores how this brings them closer to the swaying chandelier. They reach the top of the landing and Kate throws open the bathroom door.

Eleanor Bishop, Yelena can see her as she always does in the drift — regal, stately even as she's wearing high waisted jeans and a loose shirt, which would look unflattering on nearly anyone else. Her blue eyes, so similar to Kate’s if not for the years of hardness behind them. Once they catch sight of her daughter though, they soften into something familiar and warm. “Oh, Kate,” Eleanor says, leaving the bathroom and cupping Kate’s cheek. “What happened?”

“Nothing, mom, I'm fine.” Kate lies, and if it were a little obvious to Yelena it's very obvious to Eleanor, whose expression mixes doubt in with concern.

“Come, let's get you patched up.” Eleanor says, turning back into the bathroom and immediately starting to dig out a first aid kit.

“It was Fisk.” Kate says, and in the drift she can feel Kate scrabbling for any sense of control, even the kind that derails the dream (memory?) into something else.

“Kate,” Yelena warns, as righteous anger surges, and Kate's loud thoughts think, it's better than all that, the road these memories lead down.

In the bathroom, Eleanor’s back stiffens, and she turns on Kate, eyes flashing with guilt and anger of her own. “I told you,” Eleanor says, voice shaking with a hurt so deep it's hard to see where the wound starts, “I told you I did this for you.” Eleanor begins to walk closer as she speaks, voice pitching quieter, more dangerous, surely this is the start of words that will be even more painful.

Yelena grabs the door and slams it in Eleanor Bishop’s face.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Kate takes a steadying breath, and then starts laughing. “Oh my god,” Kate says. “Oh my god, did you just slam the door on my mother?” She says, laughing even louder.

Yelena chuckles too, and when she opens the door again, the empty Bishop Bathroom greets them both. She presents it like it's a magic trick, waving a hand in a grand gesture and Kate fixes her with a small smile, but it doesn't fool Yelena: she can see the hurt Kate’s trying to hide in that smile. “Well, Kate, let's get you patched up.”

She sits Kate on the toilet and opens the first aid kit Eleanor took out. It's fairly basic, but extra bandages have been added to it. From the corner of her eye she sees Kate nervously fiddling with the strap of her quiver, and when she looks at her fully, disinfectant in hand, she can see her eyes shimmering with unshed tears even as Kate tries to give her a reassuring smile.

Something in her chest clenches painfully at seeing Kate like this — bloodied and near tears, but holding it together anyway. She reaches over and gently dabs at the wound on her cheek, clearing away a smear of blood as she does.

Kate stares straight up, like this will stop her from crying.

“If you want to talk, I'm here.” Yelena says, concentrating on opening the bandaid next, if just to allow Kate a small moment of privacy.

“You know,” Kate says, voice watery, “I think that was the worst thing she ever said to me.”

In Yelena’s mind, she's picturing the conversations Kate’s remembered in the drift, when Eleanor’s words could be cutting, even when Kate thought she was trying to be kind. The way each time it made Kate’s breath catch just a little and Yelena’s hands clench. 

“Oh?” Yelena says, looking studiously at the cut to apply the bandaid.

“I just… all those horrible things she did for Fisk, the people whose lives she ruined? For me?” Kate’s voice breaks at the end, and Yelena wipes at the tear that spills down her cheek.

She puts her other hand on Kate’s shoulder and rubs her cheek with her thumb. “You didn't make her do those things. You didn't even ask. Okay?”

Kate nods, and her face crumples. Yelena feels herself freeze for a moment, watching Kate break down for a horrible second. Then she pulls her into a hug, feeling her shoulders shake as she sobs into Yelena’s shirt.

She isn't sure if she should say anything further — comfort is not something she does often, and she could make it worse, so she rubs her back and presses Kate closer and thinks of what she deserves to hear.

“It's okay,” She says, “for this to upset you. She knew what she was doing was wrong, otherwise she would have told you with pride.”

“I know that,” Kate hiccups, and pulls away, looking up at Yelena. “I know. I just,” and the shrug does looks defeated, weighed down by legacy.

She grabs Kate by both shoulders and kneels down. “Kate, I'm sorry this happened.” She says, unused to the words leaving her mouth, but knows if anyone should hear it it's Kate, if not for what her mother did, then at least for the way the dream has dredged it up again. And it's so much less than what Kate should get, but she thinks it's a good place to start for now.

Kate pulls her in for another hug, this time squeezing her back.

For this, Wilson Fisk must be stopped. She'd put a few bullets between his eyes if she didn't think Kate would mind. One way or the other though, she vows to herself, she will put him down.

Chapter Text

Kaiju Remedies: The ability to study in more detail the physiological properties of the Wiwaxian species emerged three years ago. Not supported with research thus far, there are many claims of what certain parts of Wiwaxians can do for a person from physical and mental enhancements, to recreational and pleasure based uses. Black market sellers and organ harvesters were able to somewhat preserve Wiwaxian body parts with ammonia for these uses, in what are colloquially and broadly referred to as “Kaiju Remedies”. Recent research has begun to debunk these remedial claims, and even shows harmful side effects. Therefore it is our strong position to create a taskforce, which shall enforce the law on these illegal distributions[...]

• WCO Statement to the Press, reprinted in NYT’s Editorial Section, (2022).

Kate leads her through the corridors, overnight bags in tow, toward the helipad. This is what they're doing instead of drifting. She's not exactly sure how Kate convinced Dottie to let them go so early the day before their planned trip, but Yelena picked Dottie for their unassuming and easy going personality so no doubt they were let go without much fuss. So they’re hitching a ride with someone already heading to Avengers Tower. The rest though, the hotel and plans, she gets the idea that Kate may be footing some of this bill.

As they get into the helicopter that will take them into the city, Kate gives her a big grin. She's been very excited all morning, bouncing on the balls of feet every spare moment, and whipping through the room like a tornado when it came time to pack. Yelena can tell she's dying to give up the details and talk about her plans, but despite Yelena’s prodding (overt and subtle and every angle in between), Kate’s kept it a secret.

Now, in the helicopter, with Kate’s very pleased face grinning at her, she decides it could have been, just a little, worth it.

Helicopters don't make much for conversation, and the ride to the landing area is short. But she has the pleasure of watching the city rise up around them, a beautiful sight from the air.

“Okay,” Kate says as they leave the helipad and head into the city proper.

Here Yelena can see the architecture is different from St. Petersburg at least, not to mention the temperature, the height of everything, down to the attitudes of the people walking its streets. But there's more, and she's realizing the memories of New York City in her brain aren't her own. They come from someone taller, for one. For another, as they walk down a familiar street, the disconnect becomes more apparent (an original disgust for the street food that Yelena is currently salivating over). So, technically, she can experience the city for herself for the first time, and the idea brings with it mostly excitement.

“Okay,” Kate starts again, now looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I know I haven't given you many details,”

“Or any.” Yelena points out to be unhelpful on purpose.

They keep walking down the sidewalk, passing by little boutiques that line the streets, and Kate continues “Right, but I think you'll like this! And I did do some digging on what's around St. Petersburg to do, and —”

“Kate,” She cuts in, mostly because the conversation was turning into a spiral, but also because, “I haven't been there in years.”

“Oh!” Relief tinges the words, and Kate picks back up to being excited. “Well, that's great news because this is kind of a newer concept, I guess. Well, newish .” She brings up her hand and waves it in a seesawing motion. “They started popping up around the city a few years ago really, but, anyway, we're here!” and Kate gestures with both arms out to a rather unassuming building with a sign that says ‘Barks ‘n’ Brews’ and even from here she can hear yips and barks from within.

The interior was a moody coffee shop — lots of darkly stained wood and low hanging, bare bulb dim lighting. A pen separates the food pick up and ordering area from the sitting area, which makes sense as there's about fifteen dogs in the room.

Some of them are running around each other, others are laying on the floor, and some are being pet by customers. She spots some toys and dog beds around. Signs proclaim they are from the shelter right next to them and they're all available for adoption.

This is perfect, she thinks, everything she didn't know she wanted out of a trip to the city. 

She turns to Kate, and is taken aback by the warm smile she's giving her. She gives her a smile in return that feels not even half as nice, but Kate’s smile widens at seeing it anyway.

The wait for food is nearly excruciating, and Yelena purchases a handful of doggie treats too.

They get their food and Yelena’s now reminded that she hasn't eaten since lunch and it's late evening now. Momentarily distracted by the smell of her egg sandwich, she lets Kate lead her into the sitting area while she unwraps and digs in.

As soon as they enter the dogs come trotting over, tails wagging and looking up at her with such big, sweet, and begging eyes. They can surely smell the treats in her pocket, especially the German Shepherd, who noses her pocket and huffs indignantly when he can't get to it.

“Okay, okay, one second sweet boy.” She says as she takes one last bite of her sandwich, sets them down on a tall, tiny table and then digs a treat out of her pocket.

This starts a bit of chaos as the dogs start to press in, trying to get to her and the treat first.

She holds it up. “Sit.” She says, and to her surprise one dog does listen, a square headed pitbull sits nicely, tongue poking out with a cute smile and expectant face. The dog (whose tag reads ‘Rosie’) gets the treat, and within a few minutes she's got the other dogs sitting too.

“Very good!” She tells the dogs, giving them well deserved skritches and treats.

Next to her Kate is rubbing the belly of a Labrador, fully engrossed in the task. She admires this, heart unexpectedly feeling full as Kate says sweet nonsense to the pup. Neither is displaying any discipline at all as Kate gives the dog treats just for continuing to be there. It's sweet.

She wants to tuck this memory away, crystalized and perfect as is. And it's a relief that the part of her that over-analyzes seems to be on the same page as her: cataloguing the flyaway hairs like they're the most important parts, admiring the way Kate's eyes crinkle from the soft expression on her face, taking in every detail.

For a moment she's distracted enough that the dogs who were studiously learning lose interest and begin wandering away.

It's a gargantuan attempt but she peels her eyes away and looks at Rosie, whose pink nose presses gently against her hand for attention.

She caves in to the demand, peppering the dog’s soft face with kisses. “Yes, you're so cute, Rosie, so sweet, a картошка, yes?” and calling the dog a little potato is an apt description, she's as wide as she is tall, with light brown fur.

The dog wags her short, curly tail excitedly and huffs a breath into her cheek, not understanding the words or even that Yelena is saying nothing really, but responding to the soft tone. She gives the dog long pets down her back, enjoying the soft, sleek fur on her fingers as she does.

What she wouldn't give to take the dogs back with her, and as they gear up to leave some time later, she takes in the dogs before they go — the sweeties already nosing up to new customers with big, soulful eyes. Ah well, she can't blame them for moving on so quickly. One day, she resolves, she will adopt a dog, and finds relief that revisiting this old dream brings a measure of happiness with it.

The hotel is one of those decent chains, and as they check in she takes in the surroundings. It's nice, but not in the way she's used to. Typical covers had her staying in the luxury hotels, the kind with all sorts of detailing and obnoxiously ostentatious decoration. Or, it was at the world's cheapest motel, the kind that one could conceivably lay their head down as long as they didn't think too hard about the last time something was cleaned.

But this was just… nice. Firm wood floor, mass produced but quality art, and, when they reach their room there are the sort of soft and squishy mattresses that feel like clouds. A stark contrast to the thin firm things in the Shatterdome.

“So, why a hotel?” Yelena asks, recalling from Kate’s memories not just the penthouse (which she wouldn't blame Kate for not staying in), but a condo above a pizza place as well, one that Kate felt fond of.

“Oh,” Kate says, pulling toiletries out of her overnight bag. “You mean my apartment? Stuff’s still all crispy and whatever. I haven't got around to replacing some things.”

“Crispy?”

Kate gives a slightly embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, uh, some of Fisk's guys threw some Molotov cocktails inside. The sprinklers totally kept the place from, like, burning down, but it did ruin some things.”

“This was what Barton was helping you with a few months ago?” She asks, and Kate looks like she's recalling this all with fondness, which is just crazy to her. Who thinks back fondly on a house fire? But whatever.

“Yeah! It was a whole thing. Remember, I told you about saving him from the tracksuit mafia, right?” 

“Yes, where you took out thirty guys?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Excitedly, Kate begins pacing the room. She tells Yelena about how they were followed back to Kate’s place, the place was set on fire, and then they had to regroup and make a new plan to take on Fisk’s second in command to get the heat off them.

“You know,” Yelena says after a thoughtful silence passed. “Every time you say something about your time with Barton, it sounds worse and worse. You had to take on a high ranking member of Fisk’s mob?”

Kate laughs, laying down onto her bed. “Okay well when you put it like that it sounds bad! It's about the context: it was totally cool, and we did it without a hitch!”

“Your apartment got burned to a crisp!”

Kate lifts her head enough to show Yelena she's rolling her eyes, “You're so dramatic.”

Yelena laughs now, “And you're so ridiculous.”

They have a couple hours until it's time for them to leave, and Yelena spends some time checking over her weapons for readiness before getting ready herself.

The night deepens, but in the city the only way to tell is by the changing colors — the darkness makes no dent where they are right now, only changing colors to murky yellows, neons, and blues. Yelena watches out the hotel window, and can see how busy it still is despite the hour. The Knifeheart district is just a block down, and even from here she can see the outlines of the strange buildings that comprise that area.

Behind her Kate is struggling to remain upright while she hops around and tries to get her legs through the dark pants she's wearing.

“You know you don't have to change, right?” Yelena says to Kate’s reflection in the dark window.

Kate grunts. “I want to look good!” She says, yanking the pant leg down and standing up straighter.

From the reflection Yelena can see she's wearing a dark purple button up, and the pants are nice slacks. The clothes have the appearance of niceness, of money, but she also knows it hides some pretty decent body armor, and there's a collapsible bow and leg quivers hidden on her person as well. 

It's silly, she can't help but be endeared by it. Bringing a bow to an infiltration, so impractical. Or worse, bringing a bow to a gunfight. Ridiculous, but she expects nothing less from Kate Bishop.

She shakes her head and adjusts the long, bone white overcoat she's wearing. It's much more practical, hiding her tac suit, and in turn hiding all the many guns and knives on her person. The black pants could be slacks, and most people wouldn't look twice at her outfit.

It's very sad, but she expects the overcoat will not make it back with her. She likes it, and spends an additional minute admiring it — long enough to hide her thigh holsters, loose enough to give good access to the knives and tools on her person, and when the belt is cinched it still manages to give her a striking profile. It's also the perfect thickness for the cool spring night. She will have to get another. Yelena finishes her outfit with an exciting (gaudy) pink “I ❤️ NYC” ball cap. 

She turns and Kate’s pulling on an equally horrible hoodie, very loose and unflattering and also purple, the collar of her button-up poking through. The graphic on it displays a city skyline that fails to be particularly distinctive, except for the Statue of Liberty prominently displayed in the foreground.

Her mouth does a funny quiver, caught between laughing and sighing. “You put on a nice shirt and pants so you can wear that?”

Kate grins and places her hands on her hips, moving a little to give Yelena a better view of the outfit. “Good, right? I'm so incognito.”

Yelena laughs, looks at Kate’s outfit and laughs again. 

Kate sputters, “What? Like you don't look crazy? With the hat?”

“What's wrong with my hat? It goes perfectly with my coat and compliments my skin tone.” She says, adjusting the brim so it reveals more of her face.

Kate laughs, like practically a cackle, head thrown back and shoulders shaking, that succeeds in sounding so annoying. “It does not! You're so full of shit.”

She gives a sharp tsk, “Ah, Kate, it's called a color palette.” She's only a little bullshitting, half of her palate is white and black which goes with anything. “I will not be taking criticisms from the purple girl.”

“It's called branding, and besides! Aren't we supposed to be standing out to blend in or whatever you called it? What screams tourist more than us?” Kate asks gesturing between the both of them.

“Definitely. We look stupid; so, so stupid. But hot.” Yelena says knowing it's true of herself, and it's definitely true of Kate, even in this silly outfit. Her hair curls nicely around her face, and the dark colors make her eyes seem lighter. She could be modelling this hideous sweater, and she makes it look good enough that Yelena would stop twice to look and contemplate buying. She swallows thickly. “Ready?”

“Oh!” Kate says, digging into her overnight bag and pulling out a fanny pack. She holds it out for Yelena.

“No. I got enough pockets. But that will really complete your look, I think.” Yelena says.

Kate clips the fanny pack across her torso so it rests diagonally across her body. She takes care to pull it along so the bag portion hangs a bit low on her stomach. Then she moves the collapsible bow from her hoodie pocket into the fanny pack with a quiet, triumphant ‘yes!’ murmured. So ridiculous.

Now ready they head into the Knifeheart district. The change is immediately apparent, the buildings are newer for one, but most strikingly they're built up and around the bones of the Knifeheart Kaiju, which fell sideways into Brooklyn and died. The corpse had been way too big to remove at the time, and costly. The best they could do, which is what they did, was use the Kaiju skeleton as the foundation to rebuild. The curved bones give the alleys an organic architecture, and, though they're not close to this to see, the thick bones (femurs, spine vertebrae, and spurs) have all been partially hollowed out and make for the strangest houses she's ever seen. They both walk down the street, slower than they usually might, to take in the sight the way tourists do.

Within the district is the Knifeheart Market, businesses built inside the ribcage and head; Fisk (and other opportunistic people) took advantage of the cheap and undesired real estate to turn a profit in any way he could. Instead of doing something fun, like casinos or fighting rings, he's capitalized on the Kaiju gimmick, making many horrible, touristy shops. Like this “Kaiju Cafe”, which she thinks they should've made the ‘C’ in ‘cafe’ into a ‘K’, missed opportunity, honestly.

The business itself isn't doing too hot. Even from outside, she can see the place is dead. People walk by, tourists pointing at the exposed bone that juts out in some places, but no one pays the Kaiju Cafe any mind. Despite this, it reports lots of money every month — money laundering, gambling, perhaps if someone has an ounce of imagination, even an illegal weapons trade — any of these could be what really lurks here, besides what she suspects: a lab. Regardless, the funds transferred from Bishop Security traced to Fisk, of which a sizable yet discrete portion was diverted through to this very cafe, and the cost of maintenance and utilities was startlingly high.

Her and Kate walk in, an electronic bell announcing their arrival. The interior is shitty. A drop ceiling with indistinguishable stains sags overhead. The rib bone of the Kaiju is exposed, making up the whole back wall; most food establishments cover the bone and for good reason: a faint whiff of a tangy, coppery smell wafts in the air from it. While an artist has carved a beautiful and intricate scene into it, some punk decided to deface it with colors and rude symbols. The floor itself has peeling dull orange laminate, revealing a spongy wood beneath in many places.

The one person manning the front stares at them like they're perhaps stupid, and as they continue up to the counter, the person’s expression morphs into personally offended.

Kate decides to take the reins, she can see it in the way her shoulders subtly square and her posture straightens slightly. She steps forward, drawing the clerk’s annoyance. The person's name tag reads ‘Dorris’ and Yelena doubts that's the real name of this person barely over her teens.

“Hi!” Kate greets, voice and demeanor personable and Yelena can even hear the smile in her voice. “How are you?”

Dorris says nothing in return, the silence stretching. While she might find the rudeness hilarious (and already thinks of the ways she can later tease Kate), right now she has to refrain from glaring daggers at Dorris.

“Oh- kay,” Kate says, and then, undeterred, she reaches back and links her arm through Yelena’s, making Yelena step up to keep the position from being awkward. Kate continues, “What a lovely cafe, right? We would just be so thrilled if you could get us, uh — two Iridescent Peaflower Lemonades, please! Oh, Kaiju sized! That's fun.”

“So fun.” Yelena agrees with a nod.

Dorris sighs, like this is such an imposition. “Ten bucks.” She says.

“Ohhh!” Kate says, leaning down and looking at the display of pastries under the counter. “Can we get two of those Dark Talon Danishes too? What flavor are those?”

“Danish.” Dorris supplies with an irritated shrug, “Fifteen total.”

Yelena pulls a rumpled twenty from her pocket. “Change, please.”

Dorris sighs again, rings them up, and shoves a five into Yelena’s hand. Then she turns around and heads into the back to do… Yelena has no clue, but for that price it must no doubt be freshly squeezing the lemons or something.

The two of them sit down at the (horrid) white bar, Kate fishing through her fanny pack and pulling out a small wallet. She watches her slip a few dollars into the tip jar.

“You could've at least tipped her.” Kate murmurs, sounding disbelieving.

“What? Her service has been extremely lacking so far. No stars.” Yelena says. Besides, fronts like this usually pay the employee well to scare people away , or in Dorris’ case, by being extremely rude.

“Yeah, but still.” Kate says, eyes roaming around the cafe.

If the bad service didn't drive her away, certainly the atmosphere would. But, for something with the appearance of a roach chateau, the place is clean. No bugs, no sign of varmint. As she inhales deeply there's a slight industrial cleaner scent lingering in the background. It wouldn't do for a lab to have problems with germs and pests. A good sign.

Dorris hasn't returned from the back, and honestly what could be taking her so long?

Yelena spares a glance around, and spies a small hallway that seems to lead further into the building. She looks back at Kate, who shrugs.

“Well,” Yelena announces loud enough that if Dorris were eavesdropping she'd be able to hear. “I'm going to use the little girls room.”

“Okay.” Kate says.

And Yelena wanders off. The hallway looks just as run down as the rest of the establishment, except for a very high end camera at the end of the hall just over a closed door. To her left is a single unisex bathroom. She spares the camera barely a glance, pretends to sneeze, and flings a small Widow Bite charge toward it. The camera short circuits and Yelena waits for a full few seconds. 

When no one comes bursting into the hall to investigate she sighs and removes her overcoat. This she stores on the bathroom hanger, then goes to her next obstacle: the door at the end of the hall is locked. She can see it's a mag-lock, something that's in good working order too, because as she pushes at it there's no budge or wiggle room. How annoying. And with no one coming to investigate the down camera, the door remains locked. It does feel encouraging to see, they wouldn't go this far to protect nothing.

Well, time to do a little improvising. She turns around and walks back down the hall, eyes locking onto a fire alarm. She pulls the switch down, setting off the loud, flashing alarm.

She turns back around and pushes the door open — as expected, in the event of a fire the door unlocks to allow safe exit.

On the other side of the door is a stairwell, this one sporting another camera. She's not going to bother hiding herself at this point. The alarm continues to blare, and she starts taking the stairs two at a time.

She can hear a couple of voices talking from the floor below, some doors opening.

Behind her the door opens and she hears Kate follow inside after her.

Yelena holds up a hand in a clear signal, ‘wait’ as she reaches the bottom.

The room below is some kind of storage, large crates and boxes stacked neatly along the walls. Across the way is another door, and two men are coming through. Once they catch sight of her their eyes widen in surprise.

The man in front, his expression steels and he reaches under the lapel of his coat — even from here Yelena can see the bulge is likely some large handgun.

She fires off a Widow Bite, and it latches to the man’s chest sending 2,000 volts to him: his body collapses instantly and he'll be down at least a minute, but she still wastes no time crossing the room and delivering a kick to his temple and knocking him out.

Behind her Kate follows closely, what happened to wait? But she doesn't even need to look behind her to know that Kate’s face likely says something along the lines of ‘I won't be doing that’.

It turns out for the best as the other man had successfully pulled his gun and leveled it at Yelena. She can hear the arrow fire behind her as Kate shoots him with a Taser arrow, his body seizing as he drops. Yelena walks over and sees he's down for the count. Still though, she kicks the gun aside and pulls the arrow off him, passing it to Kate behind her.

The room in front of them is definitely a lab, she can see from here all sorts of testing equipment that she can't really identify. She looks over her shoulder to Kate, sees she's got another arrow nocked but the bowstring is not pulled back or anything. They share a nod and Yelena peels off to the right while Kate takes to the left.

She doesn't make it very far before she's bum rushed by another guard wielding a baton. She ducks out of the way, the stick swinging wide where her head once was. The bulkier man growls, his face pulled back into a snarl as he tries to clip her with a back swing. His other hand is coming out to try and minimize her escape options and box her in — already the walkways made by desks and shelves are pretty thin and don't allow much space to slip by him; so she drops to her knee and swings an elbow directly into his groin, putting the weight of her body into this.

The guard lets out a high pitched scream and drops to his knees. She twists again, her other elbow driving into the man’s temple. He slumps bonelessly against a shelf.

She looks up and sees Kate had circled around the back, bow drawn, her eyes darting between the man and Yelena, then she slackens her pull.

Together they complete their circle of the room and discover no other exits. But, cowering under a desk on the far side of the room is Dr. Weller himself. Both his hands are up and he's trying desperately to merge with the wall.

Yelena grabs an ankle and pulls him out into view. “Doctor! Just the man I wanted to see. Sit, make yourself comfortable.” She props him up against a desk using his shoulders, which are shaking horribly. Now she turns to Kate. “Can you watch our exit?”

They share a look, Kate’s searching, but Yelena waves her on — no time for stalling with the fire department on its way.

“P-please, I swear I'll have the shipment ready soon!” The man says, righting himself a bit more from the awkward position Yelena left him in.

“I don't give a shit about your drugs. What I'm interested in is there.” She points to a Spinal Clamp resting on the table, currently partially disassembled, and she can see from here familiar modifications are partially added as well.

Dr. Weller swallows, eyes darting to the Spinal Clamp, then back to Yelena. “You—”

“Here's what's going to happen, doctor, you'll tell me where you got the information needed to modify these Spinal Clamps. If you're good and do it right away, you leave with all your fingers and toes and eyeballs in place. I promise.”

The man’s face pales. “I-I I don't, I can't! He'll kill me for sure —”

Yelena takes out a large, single edge knife, and levels it at the man’s nose. “You don't use this much, do you?” She presses the tip slightly into the meat of his nose, just enough to draw blood.

The man blubbers, stutters, and shakes. It's like he's never been threatened with torture before.

Five minutes and a slew of information later, she was done with him. This sparks a great internal debate: to kill or not to kill. A man like this, no moral fiber whatsoever and a coward to boot, if the information couldn't be bought from him it could certainly be threatened from him. But if she were intimidating enough, she thinks he would keep his mouth shut, and in the grand scheme of things he's truly a small cog. As long as she gets rid of people like Fisk, there won't be someone to sell the information to. She sighs, yet another mark of Kate in her life: it's making her soft. The Yelena of even a month ago would have slid a knife between his third and fourth ribs and been done with it. Now she can't stomach the idea of Kate looking at her with disappointment, this slug of a man’s blood on her hands.

She idly taps the flat of the blade against the man's thigh, and he whimpers pathetically. “Oh stop,” she says with a sigh. “I'm not going to kill you.”

The man visibly slumps with relief.

“If you want to stay that way, you'll remove yourself from this line of business.” She gives the man’s thigh another, firmer tap with the flat of her blade. “Do I make myself clear?”

His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. “P-perfectly. Crystal clear! Yup!” He nods vigorously.

She gives him a steady look, truly taking him in. He seems sincere, at least right now with the threat of a blade pressed so close to so many vital areas. 

It will have to be enough, she decides. Using the pommel of the knife she knocks him out, then sets about tying him to the office chair.

Kate comes back into the room a couple minutes later, as Yelena finishes taking a hammer to the Spinal Clamp. “Hey, the firefighters cleared the upstairs.”

“Okay, great. And they're not coming down?” Yelena asked, stepping back and admiring her handiwork. It's destroyed enough to be unrecognizable, definitely not able to be recreated.

“Nope, and you got the information you needed?” Kate asks, looking down at the unconscious doctor before looking back at Yelena.

“Yes, next we destroy the computers and paperwork in here, just to be safe.” Yelena says, heading around toward the guard next.

“Okay, great. And… did he say he got it from someone in Bishop Security?” Kate asks. 

And when Yelena turns back around to look at Kate the last of a guilty expression is being smoothed out. She's reminded of the dream — I did this for you — and no longer has to wonder about the source of the guilt. She walks up to Kate in two quick steps. “Look at me,” she says, and wants to cup Kate's cheek like she did in the dream, but she's suddenly unsure if she can do that, so her hands stay uselessly at her side. When Kate meets her eyes she sees the way she's still upset. She reaches forward and grabs Kate’s hand, which feels like a good middle ground. “Whatever Eleanor and Bishop Security did is not your fault.”

Kate nods, then shakes her head. “No, I- I know.”

“Then say it.” Yelena says.

A half confused smile flickers across Kate’s face. “What?”

“Say it's not your fault.”

“It's not my fault.” Kate says, but she still sounds so unsure that it practically ends in a question.

“What's not your fault?” Yelena asks, tipping her head and giving Kate’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Kate gives a half hearted chuckle and shakes her head. “Yelena,”

“Kate.” She returns, firmly. “You think it's ridiculous, fine. It's just the two of us though, and I won't care if it sounds ridiculous.”

Kate purses her lips, and looks away. She looks so uncertain. Yelena gently brushes her thumb along Kate’s knuckles, feeling the firm bone under warm skin. Kate sighs and looks back at her. “It's not my fault my mom did those things for Fisk.”

Yelena continues to brush her thumb along Kate’s knuckles, nods once, satisfied that Kate’s said it at all, even if the doubt lingers in her slightly squinting eyes. “Good. It isn't your fault. Okay?” And then, after a pause, she continues, “But no, no Bishop Security involvement in the mind control information, he got it directly from Fisk. So, we move on to part two tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah.” Kate says, nodding and turning to take in the lab. “You said to destroy the computers?”

“Mhm. Go wild.” She says, going back toward the unconscious guard and dragging him toward the other guards.

She sets about tying the guards up and then attaching them to a pole to make escape a little harder. From the lab she can hear Kate breaking items, glass cracking and the thunks of plastic equipment coming apart.

By the time she finishes and pokes her head in the room, Kate’s made some good progress, some of the bigger machines look fucked up. She watches her dismantle a computer tower, pulling it to the floor and bludgeoning it with a crowbar. The intense concentration on her face is beautiful, especially as she rains destruction down.

She chuckles to herself and turns her attention to the storage crates and boxes in the room she's currently standing in. She starts prying them open with another crowbar. Inside each are body parts of all kinds of Wiwaxian, well preserved and in good condition.

No doubt obtained from Fisk too. It's likely the information he has is incomplete — this is good news, even though someone's pointed him in the right direction, not having the full picture means delays. If they're not able to wrap up their plan tomorrow then there will still be time to go at him again.

But, just to make sure he is properly delayed, she begins smashing these items as well. Which is very, very gross. Everything is just, so pulpy by the time she's done. And once the guards come to and are able to free themselves, rot will have started.

Together the pair of them return upstairs after she feels certain they got every last scrap of information destroyed. She's pleased to find her overcoat is still in the bathroom and shrugs it back on.

Dorris is leaning lazily against her work station, texting on her phone. As soon as she hears them her head shoots up and her eyes narrow.

“You gotta be careful of your bathroom door.” Kate says, “We both got stuck!” She even sounds a little embarrassed.

Yelena shoots Dorris a grin that's full of teeth.

Dorris looks between the both of them, knowing they're lying, but is caught between actions.

As it looks like she's going to call someone, Yelena lunges over the counter and attempts to wrench the phone from her grasp.

Dorris keeps a firm grasp on it until, unexpectedly, her grip goes slack.

Yelena finishes snagging the phone from her grasp and straightens. Next to her Kate’s drawn her bow back, and in front of her Dorris reluctantly raises her hands in surrender.

Yelena drops Dorris’ phone to the ground and crushes it under her boot. When she looks back up Dorris is fixing her with a dirty look. Yelena shrugs. “Have a good night.” 

After a second thought she then fishes the five dollars from her pocket and slips it into the tip jaw for her trouble.

The both of them leave, Kate collapsing the bow and stowing both it and the arrow back on her person.

It's late into the night now, technically it's very early the next day. But she feels wound up, information received from the good doctor, and another burgeoning branch of the Red Room mind control pruned.

She cracks her neck, feeling it satisfyingly pop.

She takes out her phone and relays the information Dr. Weller shared with her to Antonia. Once they're done with getting into Fisk’s servers tomorrow, there's still a lot of planning to do. There's of course, the worm of a WCO member, but there's also Fisk too. 

The details and who does what will have to be hashed out, she and Kate will have time after the Kaiju attack, but until then they have a time crunch of their own.

She pockets her phone and they return to the hotel room.

Kate lets out a big yawn as she strips off her tourist outfit and changes into pajamas. “Okay, firstly we did incredible, right?” She does a little fist pump to accentuate her point. “Secondly, I was picturing like, an evil lair with, I dunno, like sharks in a moat or something. That place could've been a Quest Diagnostics.”

She laughs and changes herself, but her process is a little lengthier — the holsters and weapons removed with care. “Right? Where's the flair. Terrible, I give it no stars.”

Kate face plants onto the bed, and turns her head to look at Yelena. “Okay, glad it wasn't just me. But it's kind of crazy isn't it? Who's just okay with trying to find a way to mind control people?”

Yelena hums, wrapping her guns up and laying them back into her overnight bag. “It would depress you to learn how many. Some people might just want the money for their work, which is what I think the doctor was in it for, if it's any consolation.”

“It's really not.” Kate turns onto her side and props herself up on her elbow. “I thought that more people would have some principles, you know?”

Yelena sits on her bed, mostly ready for bed now. “Well, the people who don't want to do it wouldn't be asked to, right?”

“But, how do you even find out? It's not like people advertise that kind of thing.”

“The signs are there, usually. You have to learn to read between the lines. When a colleague did some digging she found that Dr. Weller accepted bribes to skew research results. He got fired from another job for this, actually. And on top of that, gambling debt. If I wanted someone to do something for me, he'd be a prime first candidate.”

“When my mom got caught, she said that dad owed Fisk a lot of money, and he used that to get her to do what he wanted.” Kate turns over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “But she finished paying him off years ago from the looks of things. She could've stopped. I thought it was convenient, or maybe the money was good, or she didn't know how to do anything else after so long of doing it. But… you don't think she stayed because she wanted mind control like Fisk, do you?”

“Hm.” Yelena says, cocking her head to the side and taking a second to think. She didn't know much about Kate’s mother, aside from the drifting memories and what Kate’s told her. But she knows the sort of person who wants mind control. “I don't think so. It takes a twisted, cheap, and lazy person to want that enough to pursue it. No hassle of needing to pay people anymore, or tell them what to do.”

Kate laughs, but it's more of a sound of shock than it is of anything else, even though there's just a bit of relief in it too. “Okay, good point.”

“Yes, your mother is many things for sticking with Fisk. But she doesn't strike me as someone like that.” She says, and doesn't say that she understands Eleanor Bishop, despite not knowing her. Love can be vicious, and she holds no illusions that sometimes the only tool in the arsenal is a knife, and that is how she's more certain that Eleanor didn't stick with Fisk for any reason other than love for Kate (and, Kate wouldn't want to hear that, not ever, and any other reason would come in a distant second). “Get some sleep, Kate. We have an early day tomorrow.”

Kate sighs. “Yep. Night, Yelena.” She flops over, and within a few minutes is asleep.

Chapter Text

LECTaR: Wiwaxians have highly acidic bodily fluids; therefore their bodies go through autolysis at an accelerated rate upon organ death. This makes the study of anatomy difficult outside of specific preservation, some of which can cause protein denaturation over time. In 2019 scientists Dr. Pym and Dr. Starr created the currently used and highly recommended method, LECTaR (Localized Ecological Transfixion and Regulation), that allows the storing and preservation of dead Wiwaxian for study. It's portable and covers a large area, with no side effects if the proper PPE is worn[.]

• Pym Industries Spokesperson at WCO and UN Summit Convention, (2020).

The next day they wake early. It's so ingrained at this point that there's just the smallest of grumbling from Kate, that this is supposed to be a vacation so they should be able to sleep in.

“Next time we’ll get coffee delivered to us.” Kate says as she gets ready.

“If it's not too late, we could —” Yelena says.

The speed that Kate’s head whips around to level a pleading look at her is comical enough to surprise a laugh out of Yelena.

“Kate, I don't do food delivery apps. You know this.” She says, having only been ready to say they could stop at a cafe on the way.

“No, but I do! I have it on my phone!” She says, pointing without looking toward her phone that she haphazardly tossed onto her unmade bed earlier.

She rolls her eyes and unlocks Kate’s phone. “Fine, fine. I will do this for you because we're in a hotel. If this is your own place —”

“Yeah, yeah. The risk is too big. Got it.” Kate grumbles into the towel as she wipes her face.

Now only slightly delayed they both head out to the Knifeheart District. In the day it's even stranger. The architecture seemed to belong to the night, giving it a sort of mysterious and charming look as it descended from the dark sky. But now, in the golden hour of sunrise? It looks ominous, with the tops of buildings curving inward, giving the look of something that could cave in. Strange to think that they're somewhere in the ribcage of a dead creature’s chest, kicking along where strange organs breathed.

Together they play the part of tourists again, but more thoroughly as Yelena slows to take in the look of the place. This wasn't too dissimilar to other areas of the world: anywhere a Kaiju fell this sort of infrastructure almost definitely popped up. But because each Kaiju is phenotypically unique the architecture and layout is inevitably different.

Kate looks amused, and steps to the side to allow a group of people to pass.

“You're a bad tourist.” Yelena says finally, looking down from taking in the details of a bone spur that a sidewalk has moved around to accommodate.

“Ugh! I just hate getting in the way like that. It's so annoying!” Kate says.

“You're lucky we don't need to do this for long. You would be made pretty quickly.”

Kate huffs. “Okay,” She shoves her hands into her jean pockets and tips back and forth by the pivot of her feet, clearly quickly thinking and changing courses of action. “So first, let's just stop in the middle of the sidewalk and stare into a store display.”

Together they do just that, to the irritation of the people behind them. Yelena loudly comments on the neckline of the shirt in the window. It's nice material, and square shaped, but overall somewhat bland and not to her tastes.

“Then next we gotta take selfies together while we're stopped.” Kate says, pulling out her phone and pulls Yelena closer for the picture.

In the phone screen she sees a self she's not familiar with: cheeks slightly pink, looking faintly surprised and completely pleased. And Kate looks like Kate, grin bright enough to pull her focus. They hold up a pair of peace signs, which completes the tourist look. When Kate shows her the pictures they look ridiculous, and they look close (in all ways including physical): shoulders pressed together, Kate's arm around her shoulder, not an ounce of space between them. The thought tingles pleasantly down her spine, and she imagines it'd be easy to pretend they're a couple in this picture: visiting from East Nowhere. In this alternate reality she might be the sort of person who leans up to press a kiss to Kate’s cheek for one of these pictures. The thought makes her stomach swoop pleasantly.

Kate admires the picture for an additional minute, face going soft as she examines them, humming in satisfaction, she continues, “And then we have to get something totally dumb from a street vendor and hold up everyone else while we talk about it.”

Yelena laughs now. “Okay, no. No, we don't need to take anything more home. You're supposed to be wowing me with some cool places later, where I'll have to bring something back, right?”

“Yeah, okay, I am, but I've totally talked myself into this. We can have something to remember this by!” Kate says, pointing at one such merchant where a mystifying collection of apple magnets have accumulated on a display. “Bet we can find one with your name on it.”

“Now this I got to see. If you find one with my name on it I will buy it.” She says, stepping up looking at the old turnstile of magnets.

Ten minutes of good natured time wasting later and she's buying a rainbow one that says ‘Kate’ and Kate’s found something else she keeps a close grip on.

When she hands over the Kate magnet, a soft blush colors Kate’s cheeks and she grins. “Oh! Thanks. Here!” She passes her a magnet that says ‘New York’ but with a picture of the golden gate bridge, which is so dumb she bursts out laughing.

“Thank you.” She says, and becomes aware that she's closed the distance between them. They share a look, and she thinks that this could be it — the moment they kiss, right here in this street corner bodega swapping dumb tourist knick-knacks on their way to perform a small crime.

But she steps away, Kate clears her throat, and the moment passes. If they kissed then who knows where the distraction would take them. 

In that moment she's never more aware of Kate's weighty look. The few times they've nearly been swept up in whatever feeling they find themselves in, Kate’s look is strong enough that it would take someone out at the knees. But, as always, the emotion passes before she can decide if it's right for action. A part of her that didn't seem to exist before Kate wants to throw caution into the wind and do it anyway, or at the very least resolve to do it for sure, at any point soon before she combusts with want. As they turn and walk, her mind creates a plan that falls together like cards being shuffled. It's stupid — who plans a kiss? But something within calms that she's thought about it at all.

So they make their way deeper into the Knifeheart District until they find the address provided to her by Lerato. It's not what she was expecting to see though, a barber shop closed for the day — strange on a Friday morning, especially when the posted hours on the door show it should be open.

This is the first sign that this will not go as planned and it's the only sign she really needs, alarm bells in her head going off at the sight of the darkened windows.

There's a half second of instinct that has her gripping Kate’s shoulder and pulling her down. The both of them duck and the window they were just starting to look into cracks overhead, right where Kate’s head was a second ago.

No sound of a gunshot, so the shooter is far away. Together her and Kate scramble across the sidewalk and take cover against the side of a nearby car, as the sidewalk behind cracks from another bullet.

A pedestrian exclaims loudly and takes off down the street, high heels clacking as they go. “Not today, no way!” They holler.

She takes in a steadying breath. The building along the rib, she thinks. An ugly thing that's taller than the others around, curving slightly inward. It offers a great vantage point and the shooter would see them heading their way with enough time to escape before they even make it to any entrances. 

She clocked it earlier in that way her mind constantly did and mentally kicks herself for being too lax to secure the area before sticking their nose in.

“Where is he?” Kate asks, taking out her collapsible bow and removing an arrow from her leg quiver.

“Yellow concrete building, tallest one. Within the top five floors, Southside windows.” She thinks she can try and get a good look through the windows of the car; she lifts her head up, cocked to the side, and tries to see if she can narrow down the location for Kate. The window of the car shatters and she ducks back down with a curse, not having narrowed down anything with her little peek. The shooter has a damn good scope.

The commotion at least had people who were heading through the area turning away, casting worried glances up to the sky around them.

Kate’s already got her bow deploying, and she’s swapping out arrows — though what Kate's chosen is not one she recognizes.

“Whoa,” Kate says after the near miss of the bullet, hand going to her shoulder. “That's —”

But Yelena’s moved on, already thinking of the shot Kate could take, and knows there's no good angle, especially not crouched behind a car. “I can try a mirror.” She says, already reaching up and grabbing the side mirror of the car. “With a light, no? So you can get your shot?”

Kate looks between her and the mirror, eyes big. “I don't know,”

There aren't many other options, and by the look on Kate’s face she thinks she's starting to come to that same conclusion. Her lips thin and she gives a quick nod.

With a strong yank she pulls the mirror off, holds it out past the edge of the car and shines a light onto the mirror with a flashlight, twisting it up and down and side to side to try and catch the right angle to distract the shooter.

The mirror in her hand explodes and at the same time Kate stands and fires the arrow high into the air.

A second passes of Kate standing there, bow in hand, and nothing further happens. Yelena stands too. Nothing happens.

Kate fixes her with a smirk. “Oh yeah, I got him.” She says.

Yelena feels herself grin before she can think better of it and casually slips her hand into her pocket. “Alright, Kate Bishop,” she says, drawing her name out in a slightly teasing tone. “That was what? Ninety meters?” She asks, turning her head to inspect the distant building.

“Yeah, just about!” Kate says next to her. “He won't be going anywhere for a few hours. If we call the cops he'll have a hard time explaining the sniper rifle, too.”

She hums a little, then heads back toward the barber shop. On the way she keeps her eyes and ears peeled, but whoever sent the assassin truly didn't know who they were — otherwise they would've known to send more than the one faraway gunman.

Unaccosted and ready to move on, first she inspects the barber shop once more. From out here, peering inside, it looks completely empty. She knocks out the broken window and unlatches the lock. After a second passing and no one surprising them, steps into the darkened shop, and takes in the scene.

Truly empty. Three barber chairs line up against one wall, and two against the other. They're close enough that Kate could stand in the middle of the room and touch the backs of opposing chairs. The walls have huge mirrors in front of the chairs, making the room feel cluttered and busy despite its emptiness. The back has a small cash register where another chair would normally fit and a row of coat closets takes up the last wall. It's very small, and nothing immediately stands out as anything they're looking for.

Bishop Security had done a small job for this very shop a few years ago, yet there are none of the things listed in the receipt: no cameras, alarms, bulletproof glass, not even a high tech computer that might hold or need their patented firewall and encryption services. The cash register itself is low tech enough to be cash only.

She gives a single shoulder shrug as Kate comes in next to her.

“So,” Kate says, looking around the tiny room. “Think they cleaned up shop?”

“Could be.” She says, annoyance rising at the idea. They don't have time to pick up the search again. “We should look around while we have some time, they might not have been able to move anything.”

So they set about looking, and from Yelena’s end she's checking to make sure there are no hidden seams that would lead to secret rooms or basements or attics. 

While she has a moment to herself she pulls her hand out of her pocket and inspects it. The stupid thing has been smarting at every little flex and twitch of her hand, and now that she can look closely she can see there's some glass embedded into her palm. It's fine, the blood that coats her hand makes it look worse than it is. She sighs and starts plucking out some pieces, the small shards tinkling to the ground as she does. Annoying to have to do this now, but better than having the pieces push deeper.

“Hey, there's something in this closet, I think.” Comes Kate’s slightly muffled voice, and when Yelena looks up she can see Kate’s nearly fully inside one of the coat closets, and grunting as she tries to pull something out.

She walks up and peers around Kate. There's no way this is a two person job, they won't both fit in there, even when it is empty. She pulls out the last of the chunks of glass she can see while Kate’s distracted. “And what is this ‘something’?”

There's a loud ripping noise and Kate emerges with a cheap, fake wooden panel bigger than her in both hands. She peeks around with a grin. “A whole other area! Look.”

Yelena peers into the closet and sure enough an entire room can be seen through the hole. The air that rushes to meet her face is a couple degrees colder than the room she's standing in. 

She steps through the closet into the room. In here is where those Bishop Security installations went. Directly across the way are tall servers encased in bullet proof glass. This is likely where the cooler air is leaking from. But it's to the left of her that's instantly more distracting, pulling her attention away from her objective. The room is so much larger than she expected, the other storefronts must be fakes. Taking up nearly the whole back is the body of a Kaiju. It's surely one of the first ones to have touched down more than twenty years ago, it's a little larger than a moving truck.

She stares up at it. It's completely intact. In fact, it's in great condition, and as she looks closer — she freezes in place.

“Stop.” She says in a low tone to Kate.

Kate, who was just climbing through herself, stops moving.

A rumble leaves the mouth of the Kaiju, and it shifts slightly. She clenches her bloody hand in case the thing is attracted to blood like Dreykov believed.

She swallows and takes a step back. Her eyes dart around. Now she can see there's a whole series of wires and tubes inserted in at various points, no doubt keeping the Kaiju alive and unconscious.

Behind her Kate gives a stifled gasp.

This is crazy, she thinks, mind spinning at the possibilities before her, such as: why is it here ? What does Fisk know about Kaiju, that he has a live one?

She takes another step back. Whatever ideas she has for destroying those servers are dashed now. No doubt if any kind of power is cut, then whatever is keeping the Kaiju unconscious will also stop. So many variables. Her mind picks up each possible thing she could do to accomplish her mission: destroy it with a blunt object (noise could wake the creature? But maybe if it's very unconscious it will be fine, after all it hasn't woken from anything yet? Still too many variables. Discard). Remove the server drives (based on the size this would be lengthy, and no doubt Bishop Security has been alerted to their entry of this room, and people may be on their way to subdue them. Discard). Fire Widow Bites onto the chassis of the servers (No good way of knowing this will be strong enough to destroy the physical memory drives, and what if it shorts out the power? Discard). Blow up the servers with a small, contained explosion (too risky, could damage equipment on the Kaiju. Discard). Let the Kaiju loose to destroy the servers (While this has the dual purpose of robbing Fisk of his live Kaiju, the Kaiju will be loose in the middle of the city! Discard).

She backs up another step. Not to mention the odds are good Fisk keeps his information in several places anyway. Something like mind control? She would too. She scowls at the sleeping creature. No doubt by this time tomorrow all of this will be gone.

Behind her, she can hear Kate snapping a million photos on her phone. Good thinking.

The creature rumbles again. She freezes in place again, her heart skipping a few beats.

Her heel bumps against the doorway and Kate puts a steadying hand on her shoulder. She steps fully out of the closet and only once they're back out on the street does she feel like she can breathe again.

“I have to make some calls.” Yelena says, her mind still in complete overdrive. She speaks mostly in Russian to avoid nosy pedestrians, and Kate leads them away from the barber shop back to the hotel room.

During her phone calls she speaks to the Widows in New York, and to her frustration and understanding they're not very willing to do more other than monitor where the Kaiju is moved.

“бля!” She curses mildly after her third such phone call, laying heavily down on her bed, hoping the ceiling will conjure a Widow to her right now who would be willing to dig into Fisk and the Kaiju more.

“No luck?” Kate asks, and when Yelena looks over at her she sees she's distractedly texting.

“No. Can't say I blame them either. It's one thing to do research and recon, it's another to involve themselves in Fisk’s business.”

“Yeah.” Kate blows out a loud gust of air. “Yeah. I'm going to make some calls myself, and also I've got to pick up some things before — well, before.” She waves a hand. “I'll text you the place to meet me at. 4pm?” She says, grabbing the fanny pack and clipping it around her body.

“Sounds good.” She says absently, sitting up again with a mind to call Antonia. Before she gets too far, she feels Kate's eyes on her.

She tracks Kate's stare to her still bloody hand. Ugh. She does not have time for this.

Their eyes meet. “Yelena.” Kate says, tone even.

She purses her lips, and her mind instantly conjures any number of things to say ranging from mildly flippant (“A flesh wound, truly.”) to dismissive (“I'm very busy.”) She fails to say anything and just sighs.

“Is that from the assassin?” Kate points at her hand.

“It's from the glass.” She says, purposefully vague, but it couldn't really be from anything else other than the exploding mirror.

Kate sighs. “Let me look it over.” 

It's not a question, and she bristles a little, her bloody hand clenching. “It's fine. Go do your phone calls and whatever.”

Kate's jaw clenches, she can see the muscle ripple from here. The determination in Kate is nice for many things when it isn't being levied against her. “I can help.”

She sets her phone down, annoyed even more now at this waste of time, there's much she needs to do, but needing Kate to also move on. “It's fine. Really. It doesn't even hurt. It's just some blood from a tiny cut.”

Kate steps closer, hand reaching out, she looks upset again.

“Kate, really.” She says, opening her hand and showing Kate the wounds, well, the tiny cuts that aren't even bleeding anymore.

Kate looks from her hand to her face. “Yelena,” but she sounds hesitant.

“It was just some glass, I pulled it out and now it's fine.” Yelena says, putting on her best and most reassuring look. The wounds will certainly need cleaning and bandaging, but she’s decided to do this herself as soon as she has a moment alone.

Judging by Kate’s expression, she's not deterred from helping. And sure enough Kate’s going into her overnight bag and pulling out a travel first aid kit.

She can picture it, a habit born from her mother, from the hundreds of games and practices — Eleanor Bishop to the rescue with a travel kit. It makes something warm bloom into her chest, to see the habit carrying on in Kate. She’s pulled out some disinfectant gel and turns to assess Yelena’s wounds (cuts, really) and pulls out some gauze instead of the band-aids.

Yelena takes a mental picture of Kate now, silly hair strand curling in front of her face, brow pinched in concentration as she wets a towel to clean the wounds. It's sweet. No one's cleaned a wound for her except for Natasha. Not since she was a child anyway.

Kate kneels down and wipes at her hand, gently dabbing the towel onto her palm. Once clean it looks even better. Applying the gel and the gauze is quick, and yet when they're done Kate’s warm hand lingers, continuing to gently cup her hand.

“See?” Kate says, a smirk fixing itself into place. “You didn't need to be so stubborn, that took two seconds.”

She scoffs. “More like two minutes but fine, I see your point. Thank you, Kate Bishop, very textbook bandaging.”

Kate rolls her eyes and throws the items haphazardly back into the kit, and doesn't bother to close it up or anything. “Okay. 4 pm. Right?” She re-confirms over her shoulder.

“Yes, text me the address.” She says, picking up her phone. And just like that Kate leaves the hotel room.

Yelena shakes her head, can hardly muster anything close to annoyance about what happened, and picks up her phone again. 

Two phone calls. She can do this. It won't even be the most painful. She hopes.

The first one is easy. The line clicks after one ring. 

“Speak.” Antonia says, voice neutral.

“Are you still in Saint Petersburg?” She asks, absently getting to her feet and organizing the first aid kit. Mentally, she notes to add more band-aids, seeing Kate is down to three.

“Yes. Why?” Antonia asks mildly, and through the phone she hears some distinctive pops — someone's firing a 9mm handgun at her from a relatively close range.

“Fisk has a live, small Kaiju in one of his stashes. We're expecting it to be moved in a few hours. Can you come and do some digging on that?”

From the phone, louder cracks are heard — Antonia has opened fire with a .45 colt revolver, two shots done in quick succession. “Yes. I'll catch a flight tonight. Anything else?”

“Yes, Ana will track it, she should have a location for you when you land. I'm going to see if Melina can tap into the Widow Network for Fisk and the WCO. I don't like this Kaiju thing. It's troubling.” She admits.

“I'll touch base with Melina when I land, then.” Antonia says. Whatever gunfight she was in seems over now, but throughout the call Antonia could have been going for a mild stroll, her tone never changing.

“Great. Thanks.” She says and hangs up.

The second call. Dread halts her hand mid scroll through her contacts. It was one thing to shoot off emails that Melina always answered with efficient and short resonses, it was another to listen to them on the phone. At least with emails she could pretend that Melina was simply bad with pleasantries. But, before she can make herself dread it too much, she dials Melina’s number.

The line rings five times before the line clicks.

“Yelena.” Melina says. And Yelena's already tired of speaking with Widows who only speak in calm and purposely emotionally vacant tones. Well, Antonia just talked like that. But Melina? What she wouldn't give to talk to the animated Kate Bishop again right now. The thought nearly takes her off course, but she settles onto Kate’s bed and switches which ear to hold the phone against — a pause Melina will certainly notice, but will likely reach the wrong conclusions for.

“Melina.” Yelena says in an equally even tone.

“You've returned to the Shatterdome,” Melina says, and she doesn't sound disapproving, she doesn't sound anything. Somehow that's even more grating. If Melina were judgmental, even, she could at least have the satisfaction of hanging up.

“Yes.” She says simply, not really caring to elaborate. “I did. I need some help. Something's going on in New York City.”

“Something is always going on in that city.” Melina says, and now, finally, she sounds slightly critical with her emphasis on the word ‘always’. “Fisk? WCO?”

“Fisk. But I can't imagine the WCO doesn't know that he's keeping a live Kaiju.” She says.

The line goes quiet save for the soft snorting of a pig breaking through, and Melina sounds sort of contemplative when she responds. “A live one? You are sure?”

“Yes, it breathed and everything. He's keeping it sedated somehow.” She says.

“Okay. I will see what we can find on this. Is Antonia taking point?” Melina says, tacking on the ending a little too quickly. Yelena knows the situation is well out of her own hands at this point, and so she can only wonder if Melina will try and move the live Kaiju to her farm. The chances of this are good, she decides.

“Yes.” She confirms. “That's all the information I have.”

“Hm. Alright, then. You sound tired, I hope youve been eating well.” and this is a good segue for Melina to start prying into her personal life; her tone is oddly stilted, and she wonders very briefly which thing is the source of Melina’s shift in voice. The easiest would be: the Kaiju, Melina was one of the foremost experts in the Red Room, so a live Kaiju must bring back a slew of memories and ideas. The others are less likely: the pigs, but Melina can multitask very well. Finally, she means the underlying question in her statement.

On one hand something within her warms slightly at the thought that she might care. But another part bristles defensively, and this is the part that wins out in their exchange.

She sighs. “I'm fine. I've got something to go do now. I'll talk to you later.”

“счастливо.” Melina says; a goodbye that's just a little less formal, and relays a level of care that tips the course of where Melina’s worry was slotted.

The line clicks as Melina hangs up first and Yelena sighs, feeling a lump form in her throat, staring at the ‘Call Ended’ screen dim then darken. How her and her mother never seem to be on the same page with each other is nearly a miracle at this point and should be a case study for sociologists. 

She shoves the phone into her pocket, and after a brief glance around the room, decides she can start her second personal goal for the city: find something fun to bring back to decorate her room. It's better than lingering on everything else that just happened.

The good thing about the city is the variety of stuff she can find in person. It's nice. The issue is she isn't sure what she really wants for herself. Practicality has been her go to, but paintings and vases usually serve no other purpose than decorative. She struggles to think of something that has a use that she even needs, if only to serve as a jumping off point. There's no space for a wall safe in the dorm, and there's nothing further she'd need to hide that isn't already accessible and in a good place.

So, she stops for lunch with a truly beautiful street vendor hotdog (which includes enough onion, saurkraut, and mustard to obscure the hotdog). It's a gorgeous day, but horrible to be indecisive, so just to decide something she leaves the streets into a small park and sits on a bench.

She digs out her phone and calls a number. What's one more call in this already needlessly social day?

“алё,” The voice answers after just two rings.

“Sonya, I need your opinion on something.”

“Oh? I am not cheap. You know my hourly rates, but for you ? —”

And she's already rolling her eyes, speaking in time with Sonya, knowing that she's going to say: “ I’ll charge more. God, you're so annoying. I don't know why I bother.”

“Well you know I have the best advice, why else did you call?”

“No, you have the best eye for expensive чушь.” She says, inferring nonsensical trash with her word choice to be extra annoying in return.

Sonya's never been one to rise to bait, and she doesn't now. Instead she sounds smugly gleeful as she responds, “Ohhh, and what чушь can I help you buy today? Finally getting that motorcycle?”

“No, no.” Now she pauses, having given in to impulse with this phone call more than rational thoughts, and Sonya will be as helpful as she will be annoying, but it's the getting there that'll be the hard part. “I'm looking for good places to buy decorations for a room.”

“Like for a party?” And now Sonya sounds a little confused. “Streamers and such?”

She sighs. “No, like, ah, paintings, or whatever.” She says somewhat abruptly, the thoughts she had on this a week ago feeling not just distant but also stupidly useless.

Sonya chuckles into the phone. “There's a lot of places you can get ‘paintings and whatever’. You're in New York? Try a thrift shop.”

She gives a sharp tsk with her tongue. “Sonya,”

“Sorry, Дорогая, you want more than that you have to give more than that! I don't hear from you in two years, you ignore all our calls, then you start asking for things out of the blue? You got Bishop Security for free. But this?”

“Okay, okay. God, you don't need to be so obsessed with me.” She says, and Sonya scoffs into the phone. Before she can respond Yelena decides to give Sonya an extremely truncated version of events. “I'm back at the Shatterdome as a Jaeger Pilot. I want decorations for my room.”

“What?”

“Our signal is excellent. I know you heard me.”

Sonya actually laughs. “Yelena, you're being serious? You went back? And as a Jaeger Co-Pilot? Does someone have a gun to your head?”

“No, I'm back of my own free will.” She says.

“Hm. Well, alright! Glad to know you're not dead ебобо, or still a hermit, but are you alright?”

Yelena laughs at the insult, used to describe someone who's a little stupid or crazy. It makes her own, childish insult sound silly in comparison (which she hopes has the added benefit of annoying Sonya) “I'm so good, какашка, I will be even better if you can give me places I can get decorations for my room like I asked ten minutes ago.”

Sonya gives a loud laugh and proceeds to give Yelena a short list of places that she thinks will be to Yelena’s taste.

“Thank you, Sonya.” She says finally, carefully, knowing that Sonya pressed out of care, and if Sonya wanted to curse her out for her absence she was well within her rights, but she didn't.

“Sure, sure. Don't be a stranger, call again soon.”

Yelena feels her face warm a little at the casual request, and gives Sonya a teasing laugh. “Okay, grandmother, I will call you some time.”

“Good.” And the line clicks off, Sonya annoyingly hanging up before Yelena can have the pleasure of doing so.

She lets out a breath and goes to the shops Sonya suggested. And Yelena feels lighter for the call, having been putting off reconnecting with the Widows since her sudden departure. Antonia had been easy, her return to her life picked up exactly as it was left off. Doubtless they won't all be so clean, but she knows she'll have to start putting in the effort; it's something she owes them.

The shops themselves are as expected: expensive, but good quality, and Yelena feels particularly charmed by a painting of a couple dogs running in a field, body proportions out of whack — long and thin, but with strangely angled limbs. 

She buys things and has them delivered to Avengers Tower so she can take them back with her later today.

As it gets closer to the time she's supposed to meet Kate, she has just a couple more things to do: get a nice outfit and get a haircut.

A change is just what she's needed all these years (a fact only enlightened with hindsight), and watching her hair fall away from the stylist’s shears feels like shaking off the last of a hibernation coat. The stylist herself didn't give her too much trouble, had merely looked her up and down, bought her story of a terrible breakup, and went to work giving her a new haircut.

She enjoys the way the wind plays through her newly short hair, and the outfit she's picked out she thinks gives her a very particular look. It's a dark green crop top, with criss-cross line pattern in a darker green, and black leather pants and combat boots. She's got a bunch of rings and bracelets on, along with a chain choker on her neck. This is brought together with her (recent favorite) bone white overcoat. Even the bandage has stayed in good condition, enough that she doesn't feel the need to change it out yet.

She catches sight of Kate, in a dark blue houndstooth petticoat buttoned up and dark slacks. Her hair styled nicely in a ponytail, but the shorter strands are stylishly curled and frame her face beautifully; Yelena wasn't the only one to visit a stylist for this evening, then.

She's made the right choice when Kate sees her, her mouth falls open and her cheeks immediately flush.

“Kate Bishop!” She says, stopping just under a meter away from her. “You clean up well.” She continues, her eyes raking over Kate’s form and purposefully lingers at her broad shoulders (made broader by the coat), and her hands (twisted in front of her), enjoying the way Kate’s clothing choices smartly accentuates both.

Kate’s flush deepens but she gives Yelena a wide smile. “You cut your hair!” She says, pointing at her head. “I like it!” she tacks on on the end.

She gives Kate a smile, something a little more gentle than she meant to, had aimed for something flirty and sharp. “Thank you. Well Kate, where are we going?” She says, trying one last time to trick Kate into giving away where they're going before they get there.

Kate shoves her hands into her pockets and grins. “This way.” She heads back the way Yelena came from. “That was a good try, though.”

Yelena sighs. “Well, I had to give it another shot.” she had, at the start, really meant to try and wheedle the information from Kate. But as time has passed she's found she's cared less about the answer and more about the fun of pressing Kate, to see how long it takes her to figure out the trick. To date the most she's got was just that little bit in the drift.

They turn down some of the streets and wind up somewhere along the jaw of the Kaiju, sharp incisors framing storefronts as they go.

They stop in front of the mouth, a door wedged in the teeth. A lit up sign hangs over the door “Dark Talon and the Battle of New York” it says.

Kate looks nervous as she pulls them to a stop in front of it. “Okay, so, I thought you might want to see this,” And she goes into how this commemorates the triumph of Dark Talon over Knifeheart, and is a museum with all kinds of information on Dark Talon and their co-pilots. It's smaller than the big Avengers one.

While Kate talks, Yelena peers through the plexiglass door, inside she catches sight of vibrant red hair, a larger than life video interview of Natasha playing within. Her heart skips a beat as she sees it, blood rushing in her ears, temporarily drowning out Kate (who’s now, in a show of nerves, talking a little faster, about how she chose this because she knows Natasha gave exclusive interviews for this specifically).

“— but, we totally can go do something else if this too much. Sorry, I should've asked first, now that I —”

Yelena turns in place, quick enough to startle Kate. “You brought us here for this?”

Kate nods, a quick thing, her eyes are wide and her mouth pressed thin, none of the fast talking present anymore.

She turns back to the museum, a hand pushing the door open. Her throat feels like it tightens as she sees a to-scale replica of Dark Talon. It's the older version, the one freshly remade out of the Black Widow Jaeger, for all intents and purposes it's exactly like the Black Widow Jaeger but with a paint job and projectile capability added to the Widow Bites. This one comes in at just around 215 centimeters.

She feels Kate come up behind her. Together they look up at the head, as the cockpit inside lights up the eyes of the Jaeger.

“She's beautiful.” Yelena says, voice thick with emotion. She can hear voices echoing back from further inside, but they're the only ones in this section so she feels no need to hide the reaction.

“Right?” Kate says, tone hushed and reverent.

In the background Natasha explains some basics of piloting, complete with her silly laugh as she talks about righting a fallen Jaeger. Yelena continues her journey deeper inside, going to the TV display that drew her in originally.

Natasha is on the big screen, seated in front of a plain background. Her hair is a shorter bob, ending in styled curls. She's giving a little chuckle over her own joke (a truly horrible one she'd heard from Nat all the time — What's a pilot's preferred drink? Jaeger Bombs)

Yelena’s groan gives way to a laugh. “I can't believe she said that stupid thing for the interview.”

Kate seems to find the joke funny, giving a cackle over it. “That's pretty good! Jaeger Bombs.”

The interview continues, the question appearing on screen: ‘How does it feel to pilot a Jaeger?’

Natasha reappears on screen, she's smiling, the same sort of crooked thing she always wore, one that, to someone who didn't know her, would appear coy and mysterious. But Yelena does know her, knows it to be a soft and gentle thing. “Oh boy, what else can I say except amazing? So much went in to making the Jaeger work the way it does. It's hard not to picture all those people with me, helping take out a Kaiju.”

She tucks the answer away, staring hard to memorize her sister’s face as she talks more about how to pilot it — the mysterious drift, the thrill and excitement of moving the huge machine, of fighting a Kaiju. But she's caught on the fond expression tucked in the corner of her sister’s eyes as she spoke of all the others — vague though it was. It's the same for Yelena, hard not to remember the Widows, of what they went through together. And then of course, everything after, of being in the Shatterdome with her sister. Usually such a thing felt weighty and aimless all at once — an unmoored boat adrift. But the way Natasha tells it, she can't help but feel a thread of destiny interweave itself into the story with Natasha’s own hand. Maybe they did go through all those horrible things, but she used it to save the world again and again. And what does that say for what she's going to be doing?

On screen Natasha laughs at a question, which Yelena just catches: ‘What’s it like to have someone in your head?’

“Oh my God, when that person is Clint Barton? Totally fine. He's a good guy. Just last week we placed bets on the football game while we were drifting. There are people out there who’ve drifted with Stark. To them I say, take him up on his offer to pay for therapy.” She gives a laugh at her own joke. Now Natasha’s gaze is a little distant, and a small line forms between her brows just briefly. “I think there's only a handful of people I'd feel comfortable having in my head. It's kind of cliché, but my family. I know, I know, sometimes your family can be the worst, but for me, I trust them and they know me best, so it'd go well. Besides that? No way, they couldn't pay me enough.”

Family.

She swallows, her vision blurring. She blinks a couple times, her vision clearing in time to see her sister’s smile turn into a smirk. She regales the camera with her first drift experience with Clint — a complete lie, one he probably helped fabricate, one she's heard so many times by now. But all this to keep the Black Widow Program out of public minds. A part of her twinges painfully at the fond lie her sister has to tell. She wonders if Natasha ever wished to tell the truth, no matter how painful it might have been. She runs a thumb along the gauze on her hand, letting the soft texture ground her.

The screen changes again, introducing the other half of Dark Talon, Clint Barton. He talks about the same experiences from his own perspective. She steps away and goes to the outer edge of the room where dioramas have been painstakingly built.

The first one she comes up to is a still of the Jaeger fighting with Knifeheart, the Kaiju’s head back and mouth open and the Jaeger gripping the large spiky chest, the other hand lit up with the Widow Bites charging.

The details below it talks about the weaponry on display, the Widow Bites shortened to “Bites” here: how high the voltage goes, how long it takes to charge, and how the rotating wrist weapon hides a few tricks now (spikes, slugs, shocks).

The next is a diorama of one of the other A-Squad Jaegers, and a compare and contrast is listed.

After that, to-scale figurines show how many Kaiju Dark Talon has taken out.

Her fingers gently brush along the edge of the glass cases as she walks. Each one has quotes from first hand accounts of people who saw the Jaeger in action. Her eyes follow along each one, her brain choosing phrases to highlight for her — ‘Like a miracle they came just in time to stop it.’ — ‘I couldn't believe I was seeing a Kaiju attack with my own two eyes. I thought I was done for! And then there Dark Talon was, beating the wall of teeth and claws back,’ — ‘They saved us, scooped us right out of the way like it was nothing!’ 

She comes to the very last Kaiju that Dark Talon successfully fought: Maebure. It's a large specimen, even compared to the other figures. It has a long, needle nose snout, with dozens of eyes along its face. In it's real size, each eyeball was bigger than a human head, but in the figurine they're just small, glass beads. She can tell the features are hand-made, the yellow and green pattern of its rough skin show the thinnest of brush strokes. In her awe and grief it's strange that her brain catches on this, the thought sinking to her chest, of someone bent over this figurine that's longer than her forearm, gripping the tiniest brush and adding these freckle-like strokes, the artist commemorating the co-pilots’ triumph in loving detail.

Unexpectedly, her eyes well up.

Kate slides up next to her and slips her hand into Yelena’s. Yelena gives her hand a squeeze and together they stand there in silence.

“Thank you,” She manages to finally say. She feels exposed, and this should trigger her fight or flight, but she just feels free. For so long now she's been wishing to find what Natasha felt in the drift. Small though this new information is, it's precious, and she adds it to the memories she holds close of her sister, and together she thinks she has enough of a picture to know: she enjoyed drifting with Barton, it wasn't a huge burden she took on, or a solemn duty to save the world as she thought. She maybe even came to love it, and she can see how the painful edges of drifting could've been worn down. These thoughts are as freeing as they are damning, because there's no way those walls will be rebuilt. (And, she thinks, as her hand traces the outline of her sister's successes through the glass, is that so bad when it means she's already seen so well by Kate? She's keen and knowing and it's not nearly as painful as she feared.)

Kate just squeezes her hand in return.

After a few minutes and Yelena feels the bout of emotion subsiding, this is when they continue on.

By this time the videos have restarted. A mother and daughter have come through, and she can hear them behind her, the small child posing next to Dark Talon and asking her mother for photos.

This, if anything ushers them along. She feels too freshly emotional for a stranger to see her like this. So, she collects herself in the small, dingy bathroom. It's as good a place as any to wrap up the emotions, and fitting. She's not yet had a breakdown in a public bathroom and this feels like it was close enough. It was a breaking and remaking, happening so quickly she doesn't know when one phase stopped and the other started.

She looks at herself in the mirror. Red rimmed eyes, freshly wetted face with beads of water dripping down that she missed with the paper towel. This is a completely different Yelena from a month ago. She'd felt lost then. And now? She's not sure if she's found her way, but she's found Kate . And that is certainly something. It feels strange to rebuild her life like this, in the shadow of her sister’s Jaeger. Natasha would be happy for her, she knows, but Yelena would be happier if her sister were alive and livid at the idea.

She sighs at herself. “Always complicating things.” She says to herself, watching her mouth move and her eyes narrow.

She finishes drying off the rest of her face and stands straighter. She looks better, at least more composed. So she hums and turns away from her reflection, tosses the paper towel, and leaves the bathroom.

When she steps out she sees Kate, crouched down and speaking to the child animatedly. The two are talking about something, and she hates to interrupt, so instead she settles against the opposite wall to watch.

Her eyes meet with the mother nearby, who is watching the exchange with faint amusement.

“Your partner is funny.” The woman says, stepping closer to Yelena. Her eyes never straying far from her rambunctious child. She's older, hair pulled into a tight bun, streaks of white standing out in her dark hair. Her big glasses magnify her eyes, and years of smiles has made their mark on her face.

“She is.” Yelena says, thinking that even though the woman must be thinking of them as romantic partners, she can't bring herself to make a correction. Instead she looks back at Kate, who's moved over to the large Dark Talon statue and has struck a pose. The child is taking a photo of Kate now. “Were you in the city? For the Battle of New York?”

“Yes, our home was in Brooklyn.” The woman sighs softly, and maybe someone else wouldn't have noticed, it was certainly small enough the woman meant it for herself alone. “In the heart of where the Kaiju fell.”

So, right here in the Knifeheart District now. She grimaces, obviously digging too deeply with her casual question. “Do you live here now?” She asks, hoping to keep them in the present moment so her minor faux paus can pass.

“Mm, yes, just a block up. Danielle is obsessed with Dark Talon, we have to come here nearly every week.” The mother says. 

Yelena chuckles. “Oh yes, K— my partner is also obsessed. She's got signed posters in our room.”

The woman laughs. “Ha!” and here she leans a little closer to speak a little quieter, obviously trying to keep her daughter from overhearing. “I got her one for her birthday next month. I outbid three people for it.” She says proudly.

She fixes what she thinks is a suitably impressed expression onto her face. “Wow! That's pretty good, she'll be pleased.”

They both look back, and Yelena can see now that the child is running back to her mother, toothy grin on her face. Kate is following at a much more sedate pace. 

“Ready?” She asks Kate, who’s smile (broad and bright) turns into something softer but still warms her through.

“Yeah. You?” Kate asks, and Yelena watches her hand twitch toward her, and wishes to hold hands again, but the aborted action makes her uncertain now.

“Yes.” They both turn, and Yelena fixes the other woman with a slight nod, which the woman returns before being pulled back by her daughter toward the dioramas.

They make their way to the gift shop and here is a bunch of different Jaeger and Kaiju merch. Kate beelines to some posters on display in the back.

“Kate,” she says, following after her. “Is this the ‘cool stuff’ I would be decorating our room with?”

Kate’s ears turn red, and no doubt her cheeks too, but her back is mostly to her. Kate laughs, head tipping back a little as she does. “And what if it is?”

Yelena laughs, coming to a stop next to Kate, and fixes her with a smirk. “You're so funny. But no. Thank God I bought some things of my own.”

“Oh? Did you?” Kate turns a little to face her. “What'd you get?”

“Hm, you'll have to see.” She says. And still her hands reach out and grab a postcard sized piece of art that Kate doesn't have decorating their walls. This one shows Natasha posed in front of Dark Talon. “You know I remember this.” She says, flipping the postcard around to show to Kate.

Kate gives a small hum for Yelena to continue.

“Yes, her and Barton had their little promotions and such to get people to sign up for the Jaeger Program. Natasha was so pissed, she didn't think they'd need to be taking her photo.” Now she gives a chuckle. “She was such a little, ah…” She grumbles, searching for a good English word, but settles on a Russian one for devil, but Kate will pick up the intended meaning too: a kind of prickling and strong annoyance. “Черт, you know? Just before the shoot she was yelling at Fury over this. I don't know why but they thought I'd be able to talk her into it.” She shakes her head. “Well I didn't. We went for a little walk and by the time we made it back to her room she decided she'd do it after all. I don't even think I said more than two words at once. She was such a fucking idiot over this, and now look!” She lifts the postcard up higher, and Kate’s pressing closer, their shoulders brushing, so she too can look at the postcard in a new light. “All posed for the camera.”

Kate grabs the other end of the postcard to hold it steady, her other hand gently caresses Natasha’s face. It's such a tender gesture and the good feelings dredged from this little story twist in a new sort of good, something she can now associate with memories of this trip with Kate.

“Thank you for sharing.” Kate says. “It's a good picture. My cousin has a mug with this photo on it. He had a crush on her though, so,” She shrugs, and releases the photo back to Yelena’s grasp.

“Gross.” Yelena says. “Thank you for this. Really. It was…” it was what ? So many things, naturally, even revelatory in a way she wasn't expecting. “It was good.” She says, and tilts her head, the response lacking. “More than good, it was thoughtful. I liked to see it, so thank you.” She says, trying again, and still somehow finding it not quite fulfills the things she feels. 

Kate nods anyway, and a corner of her mouth quirks up in a way Yelena can categorize as bashful, an expression that rarely graces Kate’s face. “You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it.”

She's seized by the urge to reach up and brush a stray strand of hair away from Kate’s face, to lean up and closer, to kiss.

A buzzer goes off at Kate’s wrist, and she curses lightly. “Oh shit, we gotta go, we don't want to miss the reservation!” 

They both turn and pay for their purchases, and once again Yelena follows Kate to a new destination. The streets get more crowded as they go, and they wind up travelling along Knifeheart’s arm. The building in question uses the phalanges of its hand as pillars, so the building architecture leans into it — going for something vaguely Greek in style, with garish colors from top to bottom.

To her delight the restaurant (named ‘Gyu-Kaiju’) is Hibachi, and Kate got them seats where they can watch the chef set all their food on fire. The place itself is packed, to no surprise, and her mouth salivates at the smell of good food.

They're brought to their seats, they're the sort that's up close to a small hibachi flattop, with several booths encircling it to allow a good view of the chef. This means her and Kate are sitting next to each other, instead of across each other like in other restaurants. There are several of these sorts of stations all around the building that she can see.

They sit and Kate immediately turns to her and grins. “What d’you think?”

She gives Kate a smile and leans closer to be heard over the fans and talking diners, “You did so good.” She says in a low voice.

Kate flushes and sits straighter, which is fun to note, and also exactly what she expected to happen.

She smirks and leans away. 

The chef comes around with a small cart packed with various unlabeled bottles, which have been shoved to one side to accommodate for a colorful strobe light that spins in time to some 80s music playing from a portable speaker. He's handsome in a somewhat bland way — the kind that likely had many women chasing him, but mostly missed the mark for herself: Sandy blond hair, soft brown eyes, big forehead, and a collection of tattoos visible from the rolled up sleeves of his chef's coat.

“So,” the man says, his name tag reading ‘Jacob’, and the smile he gives makes his eyes crinkle. “Ladies night?” He asks. 

Kate laughs, more than what his comment calls for, in her opinion, only to end it with a half shrug. “Well, sort of?”

Jacob starts with alcohol in a squeeze bottle, squirting some out onto the flattop in the shape of a heart. He sets it on fire with a small lighter and Kate claps.

Jacob holds up the squeeze bottle and points to it and then waggles an eyebrow, obviously implying something though she's at first a little confused.

Kate gives her a nudge of the elbow and nods at Jacob. He grins and aims the bottle, squirts some alcohol across the flattop into Kate’s mouth, getting it in perfectly.

He holds up the bottle to Yelena, who accepts warily. She barely holds back a sputter — it's the worst, cheapest alcohol they could've possibly found — it burns the second she swallows all the way to her gut.

Jacob laughs gamely, and begins performing a complex juggling routine with some eggs, tossing them up into the air, acting like he's going to break them over his spatula a few times, then catching them instead.

It would be fun, but she feels vaguely annoyed that he keeps sending winks their way. He will do a toss, wink with the egg mid-air, perform his little stunt, wink again. But Kate claps every time he lands a trick, which probably contributes to the winking.

By the time they make their hibachi selection though, she is well and truly hungry, especially when he puts a truly gigantic portion of onion and peppers down and it sizzles.

His brow now pinches in concentration, as he begins the complex task of timing out every addition to the flattop — along with a few ridiculous and showy flips of their food. The effect with his strobe light is surprisingly dramatic.

“Okay,” Yelena says, leaning over to speak quietly to Kate, but watching him set a pile of shrimp on fire in time with the climax of a power ballad. “This was a great idea.”

“Right? Oh my god, I knew you'd like the hibachi disco rave!”

“Sorry, did I mishear you? Hibachi disco rave?” She says, looking at Kate now. 

Her breath catches. Kate’s shed her petticoat and she's wearing a dark purple and floral suit vest, and enough buttons undone of her short sleeve dress shirt to just cross over from “classy” to “not office attire”. Yelena watches in rapt attention when Kate throws her head back in a carefree laugh, unable to help staring at how the action exposes so much beautiful skin.

“Okay, that's not what it's actually called. It's called the… house entertainment special or whatever.” Kate says, still talking about the stupid hibachi instead of letting Yelena throw her across their table to kiss her.

Something of her desire must be written on her face (and it's hard to imagine it's not written on every cell in her veins), because when Kate looks at her her smile sharpens.

Jacob sets a pair of plates down on the table. “Enjoy, ladies!” He says, and it's now that Yelena realizes the lighting has returned to normal, and the speaker has been turned off.

Kate turns (the effort making her a second delayed) and fixes Jacob with a strained smile. “Thank you, Jacob.”

“Any time.” He throws in another wink for good measure.

Yelena looks down at her food — truly delicious looking and extremely appetizing to smell, but her mouth wants something else right now.

She looks back at Kate, who looks a little sheepish. Kate shrugs, and her eyes dart around, drawing attention to the fact they are, in fact, sitting in a crowded restaurant.

Together they dig in. And it's delicious, she can appreciatively say, once she white knuckles through the desire to take Kate right now, crowd be damned. This whole wanting without having is possibly the worst thing that's happened to her.

As soon as dinner is wrapped up, they head back out into the city. It's dark now, and the brightly lit streets are beautiful for once. This is easy enough to think while there isn't anything else to do as they wait for their ride back to Avengers Tower.

Kate is handsome in this light. Well, many lights, as she finds herself thinking with more frequency. She looks happy, standing in the warm orange street light, craning her head around to look for their uber.

She reaches out and gently grabs Kate's hand. Kate looks at her, a little surprised, which quickly changes to a pleased smile.

"Thank you for tonight." She says, trying again for a third time to express the way this made her feel.

Kate squeezes her hand in return. "You're welcome!" She blushes, like a though occurs to her. "I hope it wasn't too weird. I just... when my dad died I felt like I wanted to know more, to know everything. Even now, I can't help but want to know. And in the drift I could see you, the same way. So, I — "

Yelena turns to face Kate, tugging her hand as she does so, which effectively cuts off the stream of uncertain rambling.

This is also good, she thinks. Yelena can feel sure of this, at least of the feeling. Everything else is… gray. But, maybe that's okay too. She's reminded of the interview of Natasha, of the way she was okay with admitting the level of comfort she had drifting with Barton to strangers, and she said it all with that silly little smile. That could be herself one day.

Kate turns to look at her, something solidifying in her expression, like she's as sure of this as Yelena is.

They're about to kiss, she thinks, and all the reasons she kept finding to stop them before come up short now.

Kate leans closer, and Yelena puts a hand to the back of Kate’s head, twining her fingers through her hair and pulling her toward her.

They kiss and Kate’s lips are as warm and soft as she imagined they would be, better even. Their heads turn, noses bumping into each other before they both pull away.

She can see the way a blush has darkened Kate’s cheeks, and her grip loosens at the nape of Kate’s neck, her hand sliding away and gently grazing at Kate’s jaw as she goes. 

Kate’s entirely pleased face is still so close and she grins, looking a little dazed and extremely happy. “Wow, you — thanks.”

Giving her the opportunity to comment on that was a mistake. A mistake she can easily remedy. She brackets the sides of Kate’s face with her hands and pulls her in for another kiss.

This one is much shorter, a peck on the lips before she pulls away again. “You're welcome.” She says with a smirk.

Kate’s blush darkens, “Okay, yeah. Yep. Totally said ‘thanks’, which is —”

“Funny, Kate Bishop.” She decides, easily, and endearing she doesn't say, because even that feels too soon despite the kiss they just shared.

Kate laughs, her hand coming up and brushing at Yelena’s jaw, calloused thumb rough on her skin. “But seriously,” she says. “I was just think —”

“No, no. No overthinking this.” Yelena says, putting her hand on Kate’s hip, enjoying the warmth that sinks into her from this.

Kate nods, grin still in place. “Alright, no overthinking. Got it, boss.”

Even though Kate looks ready to say any number of things, she doesn't get the opportunity to, as their uber pulls up to a stop in front of them.

“Stacy?” The older woman asks, window rolling down and completely unfazed by the way they were just making out a second ago.

“That's me!” Kate says, bringing her hand and up and waving.

The drive back to the tower is uneventful, even as Yelena turns the kiss over in her mind over and over.

As they strap in, the back of the helicopter is laden with boxes — ones Yelena recognizes as her own purchases, but some she doesn't and she curiously looks over the labels of the boxes and finds her mind coming up blank.

She points to the box too big to fully fit in its bag. Kate gives her a winning smile, she was obviously watching Yelena’s curiosity with interest, and she turns a little in the seat as she speaks. “Okay, so, you seem a little confused about video games sometimes, like you didn't recognize Legend of Zelda while we drifted, which is crazy. But anyway, I thought I'd show you some! Besides, they say playing video games together helps build drift compatibility!”

She laughs. And here Kate is stretching the truth a little. Technically any shared activity will do that. And video games are used to test drift compatibility. But there's no ‘they’ that speaks definitively on video games themselves increasing drift compatibility. “Okay, Kate.” She says, disregarding the blithe or correcting statements that form on her tongue (which wither away at Kate’s beaming grin). “We will play your video games. But I have no doubt I will kick your ass at them.”

Kate’s grin turns competitive and confident. “We’ll see about that. I won the Mario Kart tourney they had at college. So.” The shrug she gives seems careless if not for the way it actually accentuates the statement, like she's saying ‘I’m good, so what?’, even though she doesn't know what any of that is, so the statement holds no weight to her.

Yelena shakes her head and the smirk she gives is needling. “I suppose we will have to see. Yet another big claim from Kate Bishop she has yet to prove.”

“Hey! I totally showed you my amazing archery.” Kate says, put upon frown in place, that turns quickly into a pout.

“Promises, promises.” She says, giving Kate an over exaggerated shake of her head. Any talk is quickly dispelled as the helicopter begins to take off and they head back toward the Shatterdome.

She watches the city retreat around them, tall buildings giving way to shorter and shorter ones until finally there's just the expanses of suburbia before them. She didn't know what this trio to the city had in store, but really. She expected fun and something ridiculous (in addition to the mission), and she's glad to have made some great memories of her own. As for the kiss? It's the first step she feels like she's taken away from the fog of the last two years. It feels, if she lets it (if she ignores the sister at the heart of everything), like she's pulled away from the gravity of something and into the orbit of Kate Bishop.

Chapter Text

Drift High: [...] the findings have been largely anecdotal in nature until then. Common belief is that if the drifting pilot is intoxicated then the sober pilot will exhibit signs of being high too. In this double blind study the sober pilot does show increased impaired judgement (Alcon, et. al, 2022). But interestingly the study shows that what the sober pilot experiences seems to differ greatly from pilot to pilot, as the pilot’s body is sober but some pilots reported side effects such as reduced motor function, altered emotional states, and jitters. Though the study is the first of its kind (in terms of depth and range), ‘Drift High’ has been well documented in write ups reported in the Shatterdome[…]

• Editor’s Section of WCO Science Daily Blog (2022).

Everything looks just the same when they arrive back at the Shatterdome that evening. The helicopter touches down and for just the briefest moment who she was when she left and who she is now feels at such disparity that she needs a second to gather herself.

Kate’s already opened the door and ambled out, and when she turns back to fix Yelena with a gentle smile, something within that had been stretching painfully relaxes.

She climbs out. A few people are coming out to help pull items out of the helicopter and Yelena gives them the room number to drop things off.

She's fully intent to help unload the helicopter and head back to their room, but she catches sight of Maria Hill standing just outside the entrance back to the Shatterdome. Her face is a nice, careful, blank expression. Shit.

Kate halts just beside her, following her gaze to Maria. Now that she has their attention she tips her head to acknowledge them.

Yelena and Kare share a look. This has to be their little crimes coming back to bite them, and so soon too.

They walk together toward Maria who straightens when they get closer.

“Belova. Bishop.” Maria says to them each. “Come with me.”

Kate looks preemptively guilty as they follow behind, and it's not a very helpful expression to have when trying to get out of trouble. She shoots her a wide eyed look, trying to convey to compose herself. Kate gives a grin and her shoulders relax. 

Not surprising that they wind up at Director Fury’s office, but it is surprising that Maria goes in with them. 

The office itself is still piled high with files, and Fury is seated in his chair. He's looking at Kate and Yelena each in turn, eye assessing and nearly critical in judgement.

“Rangers.” Fury says, relatively friendly in tone. “I've received some reports about your trip to New York City. Anything you want to elaborate on?”

“Oh yes,” Yelena says. “Super fun. Did you know they have dog cafes now?”

Fury sits up in his chair, corners of his mouth turning down in thought very briefly. “I did.”

“And you kept this little gem from me?”

“To be honest, I thought you already knew.”

“Hm. I'll forgive you, then. Just this once.”

Fury sighs. “Well, I didn't bring you both in here to talk about your dates. I did it specifically to talk about these.” He pulls out some printouts, blown up pictures from security cameras. One set shows the both of them in the stairwell leading to the lab, the other set shows them Fisk’s hideaway spot. Conveniently the pictures leave out any sort of unwanted activity that Fisk was doing on his own part.

“We can explain.” Kate says, and by her body language she looks ready to jump right in. Yelena is nearly content to let her do it, to see what sort of destruction reigns from Kate’s bald telling of the truth.

“Sure,” Yelena cuts in instead. “We can elaborate. These look like the places where me and Kate went to the bathroom.”

Maria’s eyebrows raise in disbelief and Fury frowns. “The bathroom.” Maria reiterates plainly, which makes it sound stupid.

“Sure. These are um, what was that, the Kaiju Cafe?” She taps the pictures of them in the stairwell. “Very bad place, I don't recommend it. Ah, Kate! We didn't even get the food and drinks we ordered there, did we?”

Kate immediately follows her lead. “Nope. God the service was really bad. But yeah, we had to use the restrooms there. So, yeah. Bathroom halls. Very nondescript looking, you know?”

“And the others,” She taps the ones showing them in the backroom of Fisk’s stash, conveniently any servers and Kaiju are cropped out of the photos. “Well, this I think you will have trouble believing.”

Fury’s head tips forward, showing a keen disbelief already in place. “Oh please, go ahead. I've heard a lot. Maybe it'll surprise you how much I'm not surprised.”

“Okay, well, I needed a haircut.” She runs a hand over the side of her head, showcasing her shorter hair. “And those buildings in Knifeheart are so confusing. Random streets that go all over the place and suddenly end, doors that look like they should go out when they don't . Well I got lost trying to find the restroom at the barber! Very embarrassing, I'm sure you understand.”

“Mm-hm.” Fury says. “That's interesting. I've received complaints from the top with these very pictures.” He leans forward over his desk, hands folding together. “That both of you were trespassing and even involved in criminal sabotage of government property.”

“Oh geez —” Kate says, leaning back in her chair, and Yelena hasn't broken eye contact with Fury but she's sure by tone alone that Kate’s rolling her eyes 

“Right? I'm thinking the same, Kate. And these pictures… do they show this supposed sabotage?”

Maria coughs into her hand. “‘scuse me.” She says quietly when Fury arches a brow at her, she looks faintly amused.

Fury inhales deeply, still leaned over. “Okay, you can cut the bullshit. Tell me what the hell went on.”

Yelena shrugs, putting on her best, most carefree expression. “Girls night on the town, Director. If we did something wrong, I'm sure the… top, you said? Is more than willing to have police charges filed.”

He sighs and leans back, a gloved hand comes up and makes a shooing motion. “Okay, you're right. You're both free to go.”

“What? That's it?” Kate says, sounding incensed. “You drag us all the way out here, put on this whole show and we're ‘free to go’?”

“That's right! Why? You got something you want to talk about, Bishop?” Fury says, head tipping to the side.

“Kate,” Yelena says, warning in her tone.

“Is there something you want to talk about, Director?” Kate shoots back to Fury.

“I don't like your tone—”

“And I don't like being shot at by an assassin. Yeah! Look up the arrest record for a man caught with a sniper rifle in the building on the Second Sternal End.” Kate looks ready to jump out of her seat.

Maria frowns and her weight shifts forward in interest, “An assassin?”

“Uh-huh,” Kate’s getting to her feet, on a roll now and pulling out her phone. Fury leans back even more, head tipping up to look at Kate as she continues: “You know what else I don't like, while we're talking about it? Wilson Fisk keeping a live Kaiju.” She swipes through her phone and spins the screen around, no doubt showing one of the dozens of pictures she took.

Both Maria and Fury lean in to look at the picture.

Fury leans back in his chair, face newly contemplative. “And this was —”

“At the barber shop. While looking for the bathroom.” Yelena says with a nod.

“Okay. Interesting.” He scratches at his goatee, shares a significant look with Maria, and then says “You're both dismissed.”

“And the complaint?” Kate asks, eyes hotly burning with irritation.

“Let me handle that.” Fury says, brow arching and eyes going to the door in a clear non-verbal dismissal.

Now Kate and Yelena share a look — confusion on Kate’s end, but Yelena has trusted Fury well enough all these years, and Natasha did even more than her. They shrug at the same time.

She's not too sure what Natasha may have trusted Fury with. But for herself Fury never pushed too much — not too much into coincidences that surround her data grabs, and not too much with the Black Widow Program, despite the way it would boost Co-Pilot success — and that was good enough.

They both leave, but Kate looks just as fired up as she did in the office. “What the hell, Yelena.”

“I know.”

“From the top? What does that mean?” Kate looks more annoyed than confused with her question, a holdover from their conversation with Fury, no doubt.

“World Council Organization. What do you know about this group, Kate?” Yelena says, looking up and down the empty hall, but still pulling them into the closest, empty room.

Kate massages the bridge of her nose. “They're in charge of all kinds of shit for the world, but specifically I guess, in this case, they run point on the Earth Defense and Jaeger Program.”

“Yes, good! You must have aced all your History classes.” Yelena says, and this does bring a small flicker of amusement to Kate’s face, but she still looks annoyed. “The WCO superseded the World Security Council in 2014. Natasha brought the Security Council down that year after we discovered they were leaking Black Widow Program secrets.”

“But those are two separate — the UN formed the WCO; the Security Council was a separate thing formed by some kind of transatlantic agreement, right?” Kate asks.

“Hm. It would seem that way, no? While the corrupt individuals were removed and a newer, more fair institution installed, the people who let the corruption grow in the first place continue to hold seats in the WCO. I didn't trust them then and I don't trust them now.” She says.

Kate squints in thought. “You must have suspects.”

“Sure, throw a dart at any former World Security Council members and operatives.” She says with a shrug.

Kate’s chews on her bottom lip as she listens. “That's… what, at least three of the main appointees? Four? If my history classes are right.”

“Four. Hawley, Rockwell, Singh, and Yen.”

Kate takes in a deep breath and lets it all out at once, cheeks ballooning from the action. “Okay, and then, what, dozens of operatives and associates? And there's no chance anyone who’s only been associated with the WCO isn't doing it?”

“It's always possible. But when Natasha brought down the World Security Council we — the other Widows and I — took steps to remove the Black Widow Program documents. So it's possible, yes, but harder.”

Kate sighs and rubs her forehead, face scrunching in thought. “Then shit, that's still like, everyone who works there practically.”

Now Yelena sighs, and catches herself subconsciously mimicking Kate’s forehead rub. “Yes, we have our work cut out for us. We can't even do all the investigation we need to ourselves, the ones in the city. I've asked for help from other Widows but, ugh. We have to wait on them.”

“You know, for help around the Shatterdome, we could ask for help from —” and Kate’s eyes brighten, and now Yelena knows exactly who Kate is going to suggest — “Clint!”

“Okay. Makes sense to me.” She says, only because there are more practical reasons to say yes, and all of her reasons to say otherwise are all emotional (and she's big enough to admit this, at least).

“Yeah?” And when Yelena nods, Kate does a fist pump. “Yes! Okay, I'll talk to him.”

“Great. There's just one more thing.” She says, hating to bring the recently uplifted mood down, but she really can't put this off. “What do you want to do with Bishop Security?”

“I was thinking about that.” Kate says.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, so, while we don't know whether there's someone there working with the WCO we do know someone’s working with Fisk. So I was thinking about back-tracing the job Bishop Security took for the barber shop, that should start a good lead.”

“Hm. Sounds solid.” And here Yelena is nearly certain that someone in Bishop Security is working with the WCO, they got their hands on a copy of their security footage to give to Fury, and so quickly too. But, she supposes, it's a little possible the WCO got it from Fisk.

“Right?” Kate says, looking pleased with herself.

Kate will no doubt reach that same conclusion soon, so no need to prod her in that direction.

They've got something of a plan now, at the very least a direction — far less than she would like, and certainly less than she's done in the past. But, and here's the part that sticks unpleasantly in her mouth, she has to rely on other people to get this going on to the next part. Melina. Antonia. Barton .

Besides, if they want more freedom they have to move onto the next step of their Co-Pilot training and officially get on the A-Squad. They will have more time in the week to go to the city — and this is Stark’s doing, having remained an independent contractor all through this, somehow, so A-Squad meetings are usually held in Avengers Tower, unless he ever feels like coming to the Shatterdome (he never does).

So they head back to their room and on the way she ruminates on the way her life has changed in these last two days. Everything that happened feels sort of like a fever dream: an alive Kaiju being kept in the heart of Manhattan. A man trying to get his greedy hands on mind control. And then the kiss. Well, that one is not very surprising; in a lot of ways it felt like a natural coming together.

They arrive back to their room and can see the boxes they came back with stacked neatly into the corner.

In all her thinking she forgot about the little decorations she bought.

“Oh yeah.” Kate says, walking ahead and pulling out the video game console she brought. She pulls the box out and walks it back to the desk. It's only now that she looks around and sees the ancient TV mounted to the wall.

Kate pulls the connector cord from the box and determinedly marches across the room to look at the ports. She reaches her hand back and pulls the TV out a little from the wall. Her hand stretches further back and has one eye pinched shut as she tries to get an idea for what connections are available to her.

Yelena watches her deflate a little, then Kate looks over to her, pout forming. Yelena shakes her head, “I don't know if I can do that.”

“C’mon! They never use those TVs in the conference rooms.” Somehow, the pout Kate has grows.

She sighs. “Kate, you're going to get us into trouble.”

Kate laughs, “No way, they won't even notice, especially if we switch the TV out. Besides! They'd never look in here.”

“The bedrooms are the first place they look, actually.” She says.

Now Kate’s face takes on a judgmental squint. “I didn't peg you for a rule follower.”

“And I can't believe you'd resort to peer pressure.”

“Is it peer pressure when there's only one person?”

“You're a peer, aren't you?”

“Um, a little more than a peer, I think.” Kate says with a little amused tilt of her head.

Yelena scoffs. “You're not using co-pilot privilege to get me to steal a TV.”

“Why not? What else would that get me if not a TV when I need it most?” Kate stretches out both hands, like she’s gesturing to a whole room of people instead of just Yelena.

Yelena laughs. “You would cash in your co-pilot privilege to get a TV? Really? You can't think of anything else?”

“Now hang on, I can think of lots of things. Chocolates, for one.” Kate says, bringing a hand up and counting off fingers.

“Uh-huh.”

Kate sets the cord down on the desk absently and steps closer to her, ticking off another finger. “Clothes, for another.”

“Okay, sure.” She says, hands going to her hips, mentally kissing goodbye to the comfortable, green, pull over sweater she's seen Kate eye many times.

“First dibs on the shower.” Another step closer, a third finger added.

“No, you take so long.” Yelena says, giving a firm, single shake of her head.

“Oh well, it was worth a try.” Kate says, coming to a stop right in front of her. “And is there another way I can convince you to steal a TV?”

Yelena laughs. “What is this, propositioning me like a bad porn?”

“Is it working?” Kate asks, turning to the side a little and flipping her long curls over her shoulder, knowing she looks hot doing this.

Yelena's mouth goes a little dry, but she decides to play into it — letting her gaze linger overly long at the display as she looks (and wants). “Perhaps. I don't think you've done enough to convince me yet.”

A smirk takes Kate’s face. “Now who's doing a bad porno.”

“You, for sure.” Yelena says with a definitive nod.

Kate laughs, then defiantly puts her hands on her hips; she's about to issue a challenge of some kind. “Alright. If you're not going to do it, then fine. I'll do it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Of course.”

“I really will.”

“No please, this I have to see.”

And this is how Yelena finds herself tagging along, after watching Kate struggle for thirty minutes to unmount the TV from the wall. The thing is wide, so Kate’s arms are stretched out as she grips it.

Together they walk down the hall, and its fairly late by now so so far they're alone.

They get two hallways in (out the five they need to traverse) when Yelena hears footsteps. She shoots Kate a look and directs her to a closet that's partway down the hall.

Kate ducks in and Yelena decides to keep walking casually, and it's just someone with their nose buried into their phone.

She gives Kate the all clear and they continue on their journey.

The first couple conference rooms are a bust — the TVs don't have the kind of connection Kate needs, but they find just the one they need in the third.

She watches Kate begin the long process of dismounting the TV, complete with huffs and frustrated flicking of hair out her face. But Yelena is very distracted by the flex of forearm she can see from here.

“This sucks.” Kate says, after trying to undo the bolts at the back.

Probably not a good time to say the mounting system is different than the one in their room, so it will get very complicated when she tries to re-mount the newly stolen TV.

Kate’s backed out from the awkward position she was in and leans on the conference table, rubbing her forehead in thought.

“Yes, it's a whole process.” Yelena says. “Give me the socket wrench.”

“You're going to help?” Kate asks, perking up and holding out the tool.

“Ugh, yes. Did you know it's surprisingly boring watching someone unmount a TV twice?” She says, ducking down and attaching the socket to the bolt.

“Speak for yourself.” Kate says, clear appreciation in her voice.

“Kate Bishop.” She tuts, twisting the mount this way and that, until finally she has a better angle on the bolts. 

The trick to these — they had anti theft hardware attached because of exactly what they're doing — was first pulling the bolt from the false gate it slipped into. She pulls some pliers out of her pocket and, coupled with the wrench, she removes the first bolt.

“Wow!” Kate says and Yelena can hear her clapping.

“Yes, yes. So cool. Get ready to catch the TV.” Yelena says, pulling on the second bolt.

“What?” She can hear Kate scramble over.

“I said get ready to catch the TV, it's going to go—” She loosens the second bolt and the TV pitches forward.

Kate grunts and Yelena moves away from the back to smirk at Kate, who is gripping the TV firmly and grimacing.

Kate sees her face and steps back, “Wow,”

Yelena laughs, hand going out to pat the TV, which is still very much attached to the arm of the mount.

Kate huffs, “Ha-ha.”

Yelena wipes a fake tear from her eye. “That was good. Thank you.”

Kate taps at the screen of the TV. “So, what was that if it wasn't the mount?”

“Anti-theft devices. You're good to dismount the TV now.” Yelena holds out the socket wrench.

Kate grabs it with a fond twist of her lips as she does. “Thanks.”

They switch places again, Kate going back against the wall and continuing to dismount the TV.

The rest of the dismounting is fine, the new TV is set aside and now for the worse part (in her opinion): mounting the TVs.

The issue: the TVs in the rooms do not have anti-theft installations, so naturally the mounting will be… sloppy. It certainly won't match what it's supposed to.

But, there are things they can do to make that a little less noticeable.

As Kate begins the mounting process, Yelena considers her options. They don't have tools on hand (or even in their room) that she could use to manipulate these bolts to cover their tracks cleanly. They would need bolt cutters and a strong glue for that. The odds of some busybody going into each conference room and checking the anti-theft bolts is laughable though.

She absently twists the bolts in her hand, watching Kate quickly and efficiently re-mount their old TV. 

Fuck it. She puts the bolts into her pocket and decides this is fine.

Once Kate is done and the TV is pushed back into place, it looks great to her.

They both stand back and look over the work.

“Okay, for never having put a TV up before I think I did great.” Kate says, hands on her hips and nodding in satisfaction.

“Yes, and I'm so glad you did your first time on the TV not going in our room.” Yelena says.

“What? C’mon, it would've been great. Just like this is!” Kate gestures with both arms out toward the TV.

Together they head back to their room and once again Yelena casually hovers behind Kate, watching her try to configure the mounting hardware when the old anti-theft hardware made it nearly incompatible.

Yelena pulls out one of the plastic trays they use for food.

“So,” Yelena holds up the tray for Kate to see. “Here's what you need to do. Get your bow and arrow and shoot two holes two inches from the center each.” She points approximately where the holes would wind up.

Kate snaps her fingers, eyes brightening. “And it converts the back for the bolts!”

“Exactly! It's not good, very noticeable, and has to be retightened. But it gets the job done.” Yelena says.

Now Kate looks thoughtful, and holds out her hand. Yelena passes the tray.

“The bolts?” Kate asks, making a ‘give me’ motion with her hand.

Yelena passes her the bolts. 

Kate brings them closer to her face, twists and turns them around to really take in the look of the thing. 

Unexpectedly she closes the bolts in her grasp. “I got it!” she says, turning in place and heading to the desk. She digs through a drawer and pulls out all kinds of things, mostly setting them aside with barely a glance.

Yelena watches with interest as Kate looks for something in what Yelena has dubbed ‘Kate’s Junk Drawer.’

Kate pulls out two regular bolts with an ‘ah-ha’ and compares them closely. With a broad grin she holds them out to Yelena, and she can see the regular bolts are nearly the same, just missing the awkward, long part at the top that is smooth.

Now Kate looks smug. She opens her mouth.

She doesn't know what kind of cocky nonsense Kate will say, something along the lines of ‘and you thought my junk drawer was useless’, which she still does, despite this, but she's never said so to Kate. 

She grabs the front of Kate’s shirt and pulls her forward into a lip crushing kiss.

She feels more than sees Kate’s hands flail out from being pulled off balance.

The kiss is quick, and decidedly less emotionally packed than their first one, but she enjoys cataloging the sensations: the thrill that runs up her spine and makes her nerves tingle, the heat of Kate’s body as she stands closer.

But then, they break apart.

“Wow!” Kate says, grinning and looking suitably flushed.

“Hm.” Yelena says, tilting her head to the side, then she straightens Kate’s shirt that bunched up in her hands. “Anyway, you were saying?”

Kate frowns, “Okay, totally not fair, I lost my train of— the bolts! Hah!” Kate wiggles them in the air, and turns back toward the TV. “And you thought the junk drawer was useless.” Kate says anyway, and goes back to installing the TV.

Yelena lays down her bed, and a few minutes of comfortable silence passes.

“So, Yelena.” Kate says over the sound of the socket wrench turning.

“So, Kate.” She returns.

“The kiss,”

“Yes?”

“What… do you want all that to mean? I mean,” Kate stops concentrating on the TV and turns her attention to Yelena. “It was great, right? I'd love to do more of that. And other things, too.”

“Other things?” She says, mockingly, finding the phrasing dorky and grinning at Kate. “It was good, yes. And the label thing… I've never been good at those. What were you picturing?”

“Oh, I dunno, whatever! I'm happy with whatever.”

“Then we are whatever.”

Kate laughs and goes back to the TV mount. “Okay, I mean. I know drifting makes it hard to define and all. And no pressure for anything, for real. And —”

“Let's not overthink things.” Yelena cuts in, sitting up in the bed. The sounds of the socket wrench stops but Kate continues to stare at the back of the TV.

“I think I'm thinking about it a normal amount.” Kate says, voice careful.

Yelena hums and thinks back to Natasha and Clint. They were… whatever they were to each other and Laura Barton. This is the only example she has to draw on. “Look, Kate.” She says gently. “It's not bad, or anything. I just…” don't know, she thinks. Yet Kate already knows her better than most other people she's ever met and she's still here. But there's just no accounting for the way being in someone's head over and over moves the bar for what's ‘normal’ constantly.

She shrugs. “By not overthink it I mean, let's not rush into anything, okay? We've done well so far, with each other and the drift, let's just keep letting things happen when it feels right. You know?”

Kate looks relieved, even just by the slope of her shoulders. “Yeah!” She says, pulling away and looking at Kate with just such a small, hopeful expression that takes the breath from her. “Roger that, and all. I'm happy just to be here.”

“Aw,” Yelena says, laying back down. “My biggest fan.”

Kate laughs, a full bellied thing and Yelena looks over to watch the carefree expression take over. “You're so stupid.”

She makes an affronted noise. “I'll have you know I graduated Summa Cum Laude from my school.”

Kate laughs harder, leaning against the wall. “God, shut up.”

In ten minutes, Kate’s powering up the TV, washing the room in blues and whites as a game boots up ‘as a test’.

Kate sits down on the edge of Yelena’s bed, and watches her play some action game, and feels sleepiness begin to take her at some point.

Chapter Text

Breach Time Rift: When the Avengers assaulted the breach, several key factors were discovered. One of the biggest was that the dimension the breach connects to runs at a slower time. The math seems to equate a ratio of approx. 1:(<60), just under a minute in our dimension is 1 second in the other. When the Avengers returned from their attack, they reported that there were dozens of Kaiju preparing to pass through the breach. The resulting time from entry inside to exiting was roughly 10 minutes total, however they were gone for nearly 9 and a half hours. This number has not been able to be quantified.

• Memorandum from Avengers Tower to World Council Organization, copy submitted to the Daily Bugle (2023).

When she comes to in the middle of the night, bleary to suddenly alert, she's not familiar with the sight that greets her.

The room awash in TV light that ebbs, making shadows lengthen and then sharpen. A sound is playing on a short loop. Something warm is pressed against her side.

She blinks once and stills her body. No, it's their room, she realizes now. She's just fallen asleep at a weird angle.

When she lifts her head the words ‘Game Over’ flash ominously, darkly overlaid on the video game character’s dead body.

Right next to her is Kate, face smooth with sleep, curled up against her. She's pulled the blanket up and under her head as a sort of pillow.

It doesn't take long to relax again, and she's dozing off before she can wonder too deeply about that.

Later that day, after waking up together only brought a single moment of awkwardness that quickly passed, they're now hooking up to the Pons System. It should make her nervous, after all all of this points to a series of emotions she knows she hasn't unpacked yet, much less taken time to really understand. But, like the waking brought a sort of contentment that startled her, this too feels good to be doing with Kate.

It's very stupid, if she's honest with herself. Kiss or no, whatever they are, this thing they're preparing to do right now is most important.

Kate looks comfortable, relaxed even as the relay gel clears to reveal her face. “We're going to nail it.”

Yelena feels the tension seep out of her and she gives Kate a small smile. “Yeah, okay.”

The spinal clamps connect. No amount of time has ever made her forget the sensation, and it's familiar as it always is — buzzing up her spine until it retreats into a dull hum.

“Handshake initiated.” The AI announces.

This one feels different though, a sort of pleasant warmth blooms along the base of her skull as Kate’s mind joins hers.

Whatever it is, it comes from Kate. She's familiar enough with strong emotions entering with the person in the drift — typically discouraged when they were in the Black Widow Program, but sometimes these things couldn't be helped. With other Widows, the icy grip of dread knotting her stomach was fairly common. And from Kate it's usually a light, buoyant feeling that makes her jaw relax. But the warmth at the base of the skull is nearly similar to the anticipation of violence, except for the way it’s different. It calms the heart instead of quickening it, and it's warm like freshly baked bread instead of an inferno.

As soon as the drift sync rate climbs the feeling is dissipates, leaving Yelena just enough to wonder at the echoes of it.

The first memory that surfaces is one of Kate's. She's happy to come along for the ride, but the strength of it is nearly enough to be overwhelming immediately.

She's seeing Kate at a party, at an awkward young teen age that Kate is all gangly limbs she hasn't grown into yet. They're seated in a circle and someone reaches down to spin an empty soda bottle.

The bottle stops spinning with the mouth landing on Kate. Instantly Kate’s ears go red, and the gaggle of girls all giggle.

The bottle is spun for a second time and lands on an equally awkward boy ( Mike ). The giggles dissolve into teasing ‘ ooohhh ’s from the small crowd, and the blush on Kate’s ears spreads to her whole face.

Mike looks up at Kate, a bashful expression overtaking him. And Kate’s heart is a-flutter as she thinks that this boy is her biggest crush and now they get to kiss . Present Kate feels embarrassed, but Kate in the memory is thinking that she's waited a long time to do this and the excitement and anxiety makes her nearly vibrate with its intensity.

The pair lean into each other and kiss. It's a short thing, and not good in Yelena’s opinion. Mike’s big mouth completely encloses Kate’s. But Kate practically melts from it and when the pair separate they’re both blushing even harder.

The emotions from Kate then are clean and clear — a rush of heady emotion, heart pounding with excitement, overjoyed to kiss her crush.

She can't wait to tease Kate about this.

Kate’s thoughts now are clumsy by comparison, and with Yelena here the emotion continues and now Kate is remembering their own kiss. There's still that sort of clean emotion — affection that bloomed in her chest as she watched Yelena step closer, the joy as she realized this is it .

Things become confused now as Yelena’s remembering her own thoughts — muddled and emerging from a gray fog, certain in its own way but not nearly like this. It's clearly different in comparison as she sees them side by side, but is the difference good? Are they on the same page? 

Oh, this is a bad idea, she thinks before she can stop herself.

This is not good, this is not the right time to think of that.

The overwhelm of emotion from Kate is something she usually lets wash over her like a tide, the excess seeping into the cracks of her. But instead she shrinks back and she can't make her reaction casual.

Kate is also mentally pulling away, and now they're on uneven footing.

This is not good.

First step: push past it. The sticky emotions will fade away into the background and they can continue to drift.

She begins to move on and Kate recoils harder.

She shoots Kate a look to find that Kate is already looking at her with an intense expression, lips pressed thin and eyes slightly squinted. Her cheeks have a slight pink hue but from the drift Yelena gets the rush of defensiveness quickly turning to offense.

But she doesn't see what the big deal is, it's just a RABIT like any other — unimportant in the scheme of what they're doing.

Yet Kate’s offense quickly blooms to anger. Now it's Yelena’s turn to recoil. Her jaw clenches and she looks away.

‘Not the time, Kate!’ She thinks.

But Kate’s feelings are hot and messy, splashing everywhere inside the drift. It's nearly too much to untangle all at once — she's feeling upset, more than that she's feeling like the ground was removed from her feet (a free fall of her own), and threading through all that and tying it together is anger.

Her frustration grows, ‘Let's move on.’

‘What the hell, Yelena?’ is the first real thought Kate has formed since this started — even though it was just a few seconds ago, thoughts move so fast in the drift that it felt nearly like an age.

“Kate,” She says.

“No.” Kate says, and the warning goes off as Kate has stopped moving but Yelena has continued to walk.

Yelena stops walking and the both of them stare at each other.

Their thoughts collide in the drift — loud and chaotic and free flowing without consideration, not at all in sync or with grace.

What do you mean not on the same page, this — Is a complete breakdown, we’re — Not freaking out! I just need to know that — It's my own head, I don't need you to question — Things were clear to me! You're so — Missing the point, you need to — Get a grip, how — Dare — You!

Kate slams the disconnect button, the AI intoning the handshake has ended as soon as she does.

“Kate! You —” Yelena says, removing her helmet.

Kate’s disconnecting her feet from the treadmill, “No,” Kate says, hurriedly disconnecting herself from everything — helmet removed, chest piece torn away — assistants scurry to keep up with Kate.

Yelena clamps her teeth together with enough force to give herself a headache. There is no ghost drift to connect them, but she doesn't need it to see that Kate is pissed.

And for what?

She watches Kate, red faced and keeping back tears push her way out of the cockpit in record time of driftsuit removal.

She should chase her. Probably. A better person might. But she's never claimed to be such a thing, so she doesn't.

It's for the best anyway. They both need a minute.

Dottie comes into the cockpit, hands on their hips and an uncharacteristic frown on their face that clashes horribly with today’s tropical bird themed button up shirt.

Yelena holds up a hand, continuing to get her drivesuit removed. “Don't.”

“Don't what?” Dottie says, “Worry? Too late for that. What just happened?”

“Ah —” She starts and stops. What was that? She's had her share of drift arguments — nearly all of them with Stark when she started training him for A-Squad, so she knows the way they get out of control so quickly and explosively. With Stark this was practically a given — they were both strong personalities and they disagreed on practically everything — from who owned the drifting technology to how to perform the mundane task of programming a finger.

But, her and Kate were doing such a good job of being in sync it's throwing her that they weren't. 

“I don't know. A disagreement.” She waves a hand. This is the best answer she has, even for herself.

“Well, get it sorted. The drifting session just started.” Dottie says.

And it truly had, perhaps not even a minute in, she's not even sure their drift sync stabilized. What a mess. 

Yelena can read between the lines here though — if they can get connected to the pons system again before the session ends, Dottie will consider it a success and report it as such to Fury. A grace she knows they need with their training schedule being so tight.

She gives Dottie a thin lipped nod even though she doesn't think she can accomplish this.

But Kate really needs to take time to recollect herself, this is not how problems are solved in the drift and she knows this — so she must have been pretty upset. Surely after a few minutes Kate will realize this was a misunderstanding. But of what, though?

As soon as Yelena has all the costly gear removed, she leaves the cockpit in pursuit of Kate. First, she heads toward their room.

On the way she tries to dissect what Kate possibly saw from her point of view.

They both thought of the kiss, and the way they each felt about it. Kate’s emotions were strong and clear and certain while Yelena’s were tentative and freshly freed from fear. To her own mind she saw that they were not feeling the same way about that, and had just thought of the disparity.

So what did Kate think of these thoughts? Obviously she was upset by them — what had she been trying to say? The same page?

Her mind is not reaching a conclusion. This line of thought was such a mistake to start. She let herself become lax those two days they didn't drift together.

She arrives at the room and opens the door to see darkness. Well, this certainly hasn't stopped Yelena from going into a room to freak out. So she steps in, looks around, and sees it's empty. Next, she goes to the bathroom: also empty.

Where would upset Kate go to decompress or potentially stew in emotions?

She takes in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly.

A training room, she decides. She makes her way to the Lo Hin training room to find it occupied by a couple people trying to sync their aim, and doing poorly, but no sign of Kate.

Next she goes to Hattenburg, even though this is less likely. If she were upset then the most popular ranged room would not be where Kate would go. But. She checks anyway.

A squad of people are messing around with long range darts, but no sign of Kate there either.

The roommates, she decides next. Or, ex-roommates at this point. The very ones she thought about doing some digging on but never got farther than a very cursory glance through their exceptionally lively twitters. It only told her they had opinions on just about everything, but it also told her nothing important about who they really were. It’d be excellent cover if she was sure it was on purpose.

She comes to a stop outside their (newly moved into) D-Squad dorm room. From outside she can hear lots of talking, but can't distinguish sounds apart, can't even tell if one of the voices is Kate.

She brings her knuckles up to the door and gives it two knocks. The noise from within immediately quiets.

The door cracks open and a tall woman with long hair peers through the crack. She's dressed casually in sweats and a band tee, and looks Yelena up and down with a measure of offense. “Yeah?”

“Is Kate here?” She asks. The woman does a good job of blocking the view into the room, Yelena can only see the ceiling over the top of her head and nothing more.

A quiet murmur breaks out in the room behind the woman.

“No.” The woman says, just about to close the door.

“Greer, it's fine, let me talk to her.” Kate says, voice sounding tight with emotions held in check.

Greer huffs, eyes narrow and she performs an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, but steps aside.

Kate looks upset still with her lips slightly turned down, and she greets Yelena with a small tip of her head.

“We need to talk.” Yelena says in the most neutral tone she can, hoping it's enough to get Kate to come out and not upset her further.

Kate gives one sharp nod. The door closes and a quick conversation is had before Kate opens the door again, shoving her phone into her pocket. She looks determined, and Yelena decides this is a good thing. Hopefully they will be able to work this out.

Kate leans against the wall, kicking one leg over the other and gesturing to Yelena to go ahead.

She takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry.” She says, wanting to mean it even though she's not completely sure about the specifics, she hopes the wanting does some heavy lifting.

“For what?” Kate frowns a little and crosses her arms. She hasn't started to argue again, her tone isn't accusatory, but this makes her feel more out of her depth.

Yelena shoves her hands into her pockets. “I upset you, earlier, in the drift.”

Kate blows out a puff of air — a sort of short chuckle, but completely devoid of humor. “Yeah. Well. It wasn't —” Kate sinks to the floor. “It was way too much, your thoughts and mine, I know I wasn't thinking straight.”

Yelena joins her in sitting. “First drift argument, then? They're so out of control.”

“Yeah. It made me feel crazy.” Kate says. There's still a line of tension — shoulders too stiff, fingers clasped together tightly.

Yelena feels the corners of her mouth downturn a bit before she flattens out her expression purposefully. “I told you before that the thoughts would be messy, and —”

Kate scoffs. “This is what you want to start with? ‘I told you so’?”

She grunts. “Okay, yes. Not the best place to start. I just meant — the thought, it's a thought. Better to have had it alone when I could think about it more. Yes?”

Kate nods slowly. “Yeah, of course. That isn't what was upsetting to me.” She looks up at the ceiling briefly and lets out a loud exhale, cheeks ballooning from the effort. Then she looks back at Yelena, her expression is carefully neutral (except she's got so many tells — watery eyes, bottom lip sticking out just a bit, fingers fussing over the sleeve of her shirt). “It's just — I thought we were on the same page about each other.”

“Oh. Well.” She sighs. “I don't think a person can ever be exactly on the same page. We're different people. Its —” Now she gets stuck again.

“No, and that's fine. We just need to talk to each other about things like that.” Kate returns, and the heat is back in her voice, just a drop compared to how it was in the drift, but still.

“And say what?” Yelena shoots back, her own defensiveness rising.

“Anything!” Kate says, hands going up to gesture widely.

“It's my own thoughts, Kate. I can think whatever I want about anything. I don't need to run it by you first.”

“That's not what I'm saying!”

“Ugh! Then what are you saying?”

Kate throws her head back and groans in frustration. “I'm saying that when it comes to us,” and she points between the two of them, “we make sure we're on the same page about what we're feeling!”

She sucks in an annoyed breath and lets it out slowly. “Kate,” she says carefully, wanting the words to come out right, “I don't think it’ll ever be like that. I don't know what I'm feeling, not all the time. But I like what we have, whatever we have. We don't feel things the same way, and that's okay to me.” and as she talks she knows she's not conveying what she's thinking — not really. She’s thinking again of their difference in emotion, the clarity Kate had, like a full moon on a cloudless night, a beacon. Her own wasn't nearly the same, but it was as precious to her as a lighter held in a shaky hand as one descended into the dark.

Kate sighs. “Yelena,” she says, tone much more careful and soft. “It's okay to me too. It's not the feelings themselves. Do you get that?”

Yelena closes her eyes.

Kate continues, “It's that — I thought we wanted the same things. That's what I meant.”

She looks at Kate with a frown. “We do. Don't we?”

Kate shrugs. “I don't know. Do we?”

Yelena sighs. “I thought we did, I just thought — our feelings were different but we wanted the same. No? To kiss whenever we wanted, to have sex if it felt right?”

“Is that what you want?” Kate asks, and as Yelena takes her in she sees the determination is there, curiosity too that burns in her eyes, and something is layering in between all that — something that makes Kate’s jaw clench just slightly.

“Yes.” Yelena says, and it seemed obvious to her.

“And is that all you want?” Kate asks.

And what else is there? Everything else they have with each other in the drift.

At her apparent confusion Kate shakes her head. “I think maybe we weren't on the same page.”

“Okay, well what do you want?” Yelena asks.

Kate frowns a little and shakes her head. “That's not important,”

Yelena points a finger at Kate. “No, you don't get to say that. Tell me.”

Kate rolls her eyes, but it's not nearly as annoyed looking as she maybe wants it to look, and the tips of her ears turn red. “I guess I just wanted to be there for you, as a partner. You know, like date and whatever.”

“Hm. We are already there for each other though. Aren't we?” Yelena says, unable to help the way her face scrunches in confusion. “And the rest, won't we be… I don't know, doing things with each other all the time? We're co-pilots.”

“I don't think it means the same though.” Kate says, now she looks a little thoughtful, and she looks at the far wall for a few seconds, like she's considering the thought before her focus returns to Yelena.

It does to her, she thinks, because it's Kate. But does that make a difference? Maybe if her co-pilot were someone else? She tries to picture it — maybe like if she got John Walker. The idea is revolting. Her lip curls for a moment. “Maybe you're right. I wouldn't want to do any of this with someone else, so maybe it doesn't mean the same.”

Kate cracks a smile. The first one she's seen since this argument started. “Yeah, I wouldn't want to either.” She looks better, but drained. “I think you were right from the beginning. Let's just take it as it comes, yeah?”

“Okay, sure.” She says and gets to her feet, unable to marry the finality of Kate’s words with the way she seems to be still upset.

Kate gets to her feet too and they regard each other.

“I'll let you get back to…” she glances at the door, closed right but no doubt the nosy roommates are right inside the door. “Whatever you were doing.”

“Dottie’s probably pissed we broke off early.” Kate says.

“Oh, whatever. They'll live.” Yelena says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Kate frowns. “Okay, then. I should —” She points over her shoulder to the room. “Finish talking to them.”

“See you for dinner.” She says, and watches Kate retreat back into the room, and Greer once again makes an ‘I’m watching you gesture’ as the door closes.

She retreats herself, really needing to decompress on her own too. Physical activity, she decides.

So she makes her way to one of the smaller training rooms and systematically goes at a martial arts dummy. The wood clacks under her ministrations, and she begins to zone out, the rhythmic motions of a random kata calming her. The argument left her unsettled, even with the resolution (that technically left them exactly where they started but now there are extra feelings to weigh her down). There's nothing further to do except move on, she tells herself.

Recent revelations about Natasha and the drift, herself and her feelings, and the Kate at the center of all everything — but there's still so much to do for herself before she knows she's in any kind of place like Natasha was in.

She finishes up the kata and realizes it's an MMA kata, one she never practiced herself. 

More shared skills from drifting. The door to the training room opens, and in walks Barton, dressed like he's coming to train too — loose clothes and a bo staff in his grip (Natasha’s second favorite weapon, and now she doesn't need to wonder where her love for it came from).

It's a big Shatterdome. Hundreds of people call this place home, thousands even. Not even counting the people who live in the large town that the Shatterdome neighbors and commute here to work. So why is she always seeing him when she never wants to?

He wasn't even paying attention, looking down at his phone as he walked — a nasty habit, but now he looks up.

The two of them stare at each other. “Yelena.”

“Barton.”

“I thought… isn't this your drifting time with Kate?” He says, looking down at his wristwatch and rocking back on his heels.

“It is.” She says, rolling her shoulders, hating to talk to Barton about this of all people, yet she finds herself elaborating anyway. “We had a disagreement in the drift.”

He winces. “Those always suck.”

“Mm.” She says, and that seems to be about as helpful as he'll get, so she sighs and heads toward the exit.

“Wait, Yelena.” He says, and when she turns he looks hesitant, but he continues on. “Would you want to spar?”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “And break your old man bones?” She asks, looking him up and down. “Okay.”

She walks over to a rack with paired weapons and pulls a bo staff down. First she gives it a few experimental swings, and finds the weight to be balanced and good enough — too light to do any real damage.

They circle each other once. His balance is good, even and careful. His expression is frowning just a little, but it seems to always be the case with him. There are bags under his eyes, the sort that tells of many nights grappling with sleep. If she were going to kill him this would be the thing she'd exploit — wear him down until his fatigue made him slip up. But the idea of doing anything that would even injure him leaves a sour feeling in her mouth. 

Instead she bolts forward, going low and sweeping at his legs. He's quick despite his age and he at once both leaps over her staff and swings one end of his staff toward her head.

She has to roll to the side to dodge it and swings the staff around, aiming for his ribs. He blocks and the pair reset stances.

He's good. It's nearly frustrating. But she can see the years of training and sparring with Natasha has left him with good fighting skills. It makes something twinge within that there's something so tangible of her sister still in the world, left only in Clint Barton.

They go at each other again, this time he anticipates her head strike and dodges to the side, granting him a good trip. She goes into it — lets the leg sweep bring her down so she can roll backwards. With an internal smirk, she uses the momentum of the fall and roll to first hook her staff around the back of Barton’s head and then to throw him firmly to the ground.

He grunts as he lands forcefully onto his stomach. “Fuck.” He murmurs.

She completes her roll to land on her feet and offers him a hand up. “Out of touch, Barton?”

He grabs it and gets up slowly. “It's been a while since someone threw me like that.”

Yelena chuckles. “Natasha and her stupid, flashy throws.”

Clint gives a fond laugh, “Always. With the hair flip? Yeah.”

She laughs. “Oh my god, yes. What a show off.”

There's a beat that's not nearly as painful as they usually are, shared laughter still warming the air between them.

“Well, Barton? Did one little baby throw take you out, or shall we go again?”

He gives a grin, and he looks younger with it — Yelena can see the boyish charm Natasha probably liked. There's something unassuming about it in a way that reminds her of Kate — a sort of pleased-ness that hid no intentions or expectations. “Let's go again.”

They go a couple more rounds, Yelena coming out on top each time.

He's on the floor now with her staff pointed at his head. “Phew. I'm out.” He says, sitting up and breathing heavily.

“Okay.” She goes to the wall to hang up the bo staff, and her finger trails down the handles of assorted weapons. “Barton, do you think…” She pauses now, mulling the words over. They'd left her buoyed on good feelings before she could think better of it. Now she stills and sighs. “Nevermind.”

She hears him grunt as he stands. “Think what?” He asks, annoyingly and purposefully ignoring her later statement.

She rolls her eyes and turns to look at him. He's looking at her with a patience she's done nothing to earn, and it makes her scalp itch. “Natasha. Was she happy with you?”

He makes a hum in the back of his throat, head tilting to the side. “I think so, yes.” He says, and nods. “She seemed to be. And in the drift, she — I mean, yeah. She would've said so otherwise.”

“She would've?”

He nods again. “Oh yeah. You know Nat, couldn't keep an opinion to herself, especially if she liked you.” His head ticks back and forth quickly, a gesture of reconsidering that she knows Natasha got from him. “Well, if she didn't like you it was probably worse.”

This, she thinks, is mostly true. Natasha and her secrets. But, would being happy with Barton be an opinion or a secret? 

The little thought makes something within ache at not knowing this, so she moves past it and asks her next question. “And you were happy with her?”

His smile is lopsided, his eyes distant in a fond memory. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

She nods and steps closer. It's nearly involuntary, wanting to be warmed by the rays of Natasha’s love, even like this, from him, even if it's just a bit pathetic. She stops herself and sighs. “Okay, Barton. See you around.”

“Yelena.” Barton says as his goodbye.

She returns to her room, not really hungry anymore.

Chapter Text

Spinal Clamps: This refers to the metal apparatus that attaches to the Drivesuit. The whole device spans from the base of the skull and ends at the peak of the thoracic section of the spinal column. Each Spinal Clamp is specifically calibrated to the individual Jaeger Pilot as part of putting on the Drivesuit. An incorrectly calibrated Spinal Clamp can cause numbness in the extremities and delay between pilot and Jaeger. Signs and symptoms to watch out for and inform your medical team of right away include dizziness, numbness, seizures, stroke or stroke-like symptoms, paralysis (temporary, long term, or permanent), and death.

• Jaeger Pilot Welcome New Hire Pamphlet (2019 edition).

She returns to the room to find it empty, just like she expects.

The lights on now she's reminded of the small stack of decorations she brought with her from the city.

There is that spark of desire again, to bring herself into this space, frivolous and small though the gesture is.

She tears into the packages, pulling all the items out and laying them on her bed so she can see them all in the room. The lighting does make some of this different — the bright, yellow light doesn't do anyone any favors practically ever, and it's not much different here. The bright and cheery greens look washed out into something that more befits her usual moods.

Ugh! She should have brought a different light bulb back with her to change it out.

She sucks on her teeth for a second and squints at her things. She will put this stuff up anyway.

As she hangs paintings and adds some fake plants to spare space it makes for such a fun clash. It's immediately obvious whose stuff is whose, which to her makes it even better.

She didn't bring much back, some paintings, fake plants, and a vase that she thinks will both look nice on her night stand and is also a good hand shape to hold and throw; it's a solid earthen vase with weight so it would hurt to boot. The dual purpose is exciting.

Now done she looks around and admires her handiwork. It's good in a way she can't really define, so she doesn't.

A single nod in satisfaction and it's only now that she realizes she's hungry. A glance at the clock tells her she's got time to grab a bite to eat still.

So she heads out to the cafeteria. It's crowded, because it's always crowded, and as she gets her food (a truly sad braised chicken that looked horribly dry in the heat pans) it's now that she realizes Kate is late.

She doesn't have to ponder this long as she can see that Marian is looking around the dining hall. With a sigh she drops her tray into the trash and grabs a couple meal bars.

“Yelena,” Marian says, having found her and made her way over. “Director Fury wants to see you.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you're really good at your job?” Yelena asks as she peels the wrapper off a bar.

Marian flushes a bright red. “Thank you?”

“Mhm, sure. They should get you a raise.” Yelena says and wanders away at a sedate pace, chewing the bar as she goes.

He's seriously a little insane for calling them in so soon. Is he okay?

She can't help but wonder that from a few angles now that she's thought it — it's true she's the second most familiar with the Dark Talon Jaeger, but he could've easily plucked one of the many, talented co-pilot groups who would've done a decent job and he'd have far less hassle. Or even Clint, who is (she will begrudgingly admit) the only person who knows it better and is here. Wouldn't he be able to be persuaded into saying yes, somehow or other?

In her grief and her desire to see Natasha again in the drift, she may have miscalculated. Fury is acting like a cat in a corner, which means someone bigger than him is being a threat.

And she had, in the past, been the shadowy knife held to the WCO’s throat. So he'd get a two for one by bringing her back.

She's not thought of it like this before. But each little layer she's been peeling back of the WCO shows just how much they've been busy these two years and change.

When did they notice the knife was gone? What clandestine act went unchallenged and now they're making bigger moves — Fisk, the Kaiju, Fury. She hasn't got the full picture yet for what the plan could be.

There's more work to do than she thought.

The door to his office is shut, and silence greets her. She gets one, sharp knock in when Fury states evenly “Enter.”

Inside there's Fury at one end, eye assessing her as she walks in. Seated across from him is Kate, hands folded primly on her lap with an annoyed squint on her face. She gets the impression from the slight tension in Kate that there were some barbs traded.

“Belova.” Fury says.

“Director.” She returns, and doesn't wait for an invitation to sit — she takes the seat next to Kate and passes her the meal bar.

“Oh thank god.” Kate says, unwrapping it and digging in. At Fury’s slightly raised brow and general unimpressed air, Kate (with her mouth full and midchew) says “What? I'm so hungry and you interrupted me on my way to dinner.”

“Chew with your mouth closed.” Fury reprimands.

Kate’s shoulders jut up and down, but she says nothing further.

Silence passes, with the only sound being the wrapper and the chewing.

“So,” Yelena starts.

Fury simply takes the file in front of him and opens it. “Rangers. It's been brought to my attention that you've got three days without drifting.”

“Well, you would know of the first two, so I assume no explanation is needed for those.” Yelena says, drawing things out just to see if she can catch a glimpse of the range and depth of her issue.

Fury’s eye does a little, tiny twitch.

“What's wrong, Director? Not getting enough sleep?” She asks, leaning casually back into her seat.

Kate pauses mid chew to send her a frown.

Fury’s brow raises and his head tips to the side, but ultimately he gives nothing away. “So what happened today?”

“Oh, that.” Yelena says, immediately going for dismissiveness. “We thought about sex in the drift so we had to, ah, cool down.”

Kate coughs, bending over and covering her mouth to keep from coughing out the food still in her mouth.

“Modesty Reflex. Sure. These aren't rookie hours, I expected you both to work through that.” He says, completely unruffled.

Yelena sighs. Next to her Kate still struggles to get her coughing fit under control. “Well consider us suitably reprimanded. Is that all?”

His eye narrows and he leans back in his chair. So, they're finally getting to it. “You know, I don't appreciate your tone, Ranger.”

“Oh no!” She says, forcibly and sarcastically.

“You know two of the four commanders were against bringing you in as a co-pilot?” Fury says. “They said you would have difficulty following orders, that you'd shoot from the hip.”

Shoot from the hip. What is she, a cowboy? She scoffs. “I have followed all your orders.”

The silence stretches more.

Kate's just finished her bar, but she's uncharacteristically quiet, eyes darting between the two of them, sharp anger on her face.

He looks at both of them before settling back on Yelena. “I've scheduled time for you to drift tonight. Keep yourselves on schedule next time.”

She rolls her eyes and goes for being more needling, prying at the front he presents. “I thought you wanted us ahead of schedule.”

“I do. And this,” he slides a paper to her with a cockpit room number and a time. “Will keep you both on track.”

She takes the paper. “Is that all?”

Fury nods tightly. “Dismissed.”

She gets to her feet and she can hear Kate following after her.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Kate says hotly.

But in her mind she's busy thinking. Even the candidates, tailor picked to probably be the sort of people who'd keep her in line. Except, somehow, Kate Bishop is an anomaly. Clint Barton. It's so likely he pulled strings to get her in place.

She rubs her temple. Ugh this also means he's probably one of the few people she can trust with absolute certainty. How annoying.

“Uh, hello?” Kate says, gently touching her hand.

She'd absently been walking them toward the cockpit they usually use. She glances down to the one on the paper. It's a small one, not super popular because it lacks many upgrades needed to really practice piloting, but it was great for new co-pilots who just needed time together. Drifting time in thirty minutes. Fine.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kate says, putting her hand on her shoulder.

“Hm? What?” Yelena says, turning and looking up at her. Kate looks concerned, the small crease between her eyebrows making an appearance. “Oh yes. I'm good. We've got drifting soon, so let's suit up.”

Kate takes in her appearance, and Yelena lets her, putting on casual airs. Kate nods, “Okay? Sure.” Kate turns them around and heads in the right direction this time. “What was that even about?”

“Oh, I'll explain later.” She says.

They suit up. This has to be supremely annoying to the team who’s helping them — typically they'd be wrapping up their day by now.

She kicks her feet around in the treadmill — the stupid thing is stiff.

Kate shares a look, now nervous over the argument they had just a few hours ago.

She tips her head to her. “It's okay. Remember to take a step back if you need to.”

Kate nods. “Yeah. Yeah, we're gonna nail it!”

“We will.” Yelena says.

“One day you'll say it.”

“Perhaps.” Yelena says, and with that they both connect.

The familiar sensations fill her and she relaxes into it.

Since her brain is turning over her conversations with Fury, she begins to remember that very first one.

“Welcome to my office,” Fury had said inside the tiny storage room. In her memory the thing is cramped, full of bins with spare parts: bolts, pistons, and the like.

“Director. Why are we meeting here?” She’d asked as she sat, noticing the way time had not been too kind to him over the last two years.

“If you go to my real office right now, you'll see a lawyer, someone from human resources, the person who you'd be reporting to, even my lovely assistant.” He said, the tablet held in his hands casting his face in blue light, and in her memory it makes him look even more worn.

“That's a lot of people.” She remarked.

And with that the memory fades into one of Kate’s.

She's standing in front of Fury’s office door, willing it to open.

“Relax, kid.” Barton says next to her.

And Kate is totally calm. She's rocking back and forth on the balls of her heels, but really that's the only sign she's nervous. “Yep! I'm so good, Clint.”

Barton gives a light chuckle from his seat. He's texting the world's slowest message, using the ‘hunt n peck’ method of searching for the letters. “You got it.”

Kate begins pacing again. “Do I got it? This isn't ‘got it’ style waiting.”

Clint blows out a noisy exhale. “Well if you sit and find something else to do you'll see the time passes much faster.”

So, Kate does just that. She sits. She pulls out her phone and scrolls through various social medias, but it's not in any way slow enough to actually absorb anything. She stows her phone and plucks at a stray thread on her shirt. She sighs and looks around the room, vaguely catalogues the boring and quiet atmosphere. She sighs again. She peers over Clint’s shoulder and sees he's texting his wife very slowly. She mentally tries to complete the sentence he's typing, succeeds with a smirk and then taps her hands against her legs.

Clint sighs and darkens his screen after hitting send. “Kid, you're going to drive me nuts.”

“Okay, but they just said that Ranger Belova scheduled our drift compatibility, they didn't say what all this is.”

The door to Fury’s opens and he cuts an imposing figure. His eye focuses on Kate and he gives a single nod in greeting. “Cadet Bishop.”

Kate stands to her feet (jumps to them really), “Director Fury!”

He holds out a calming hand. “Come in.” He opens the door wider.

Kate enters the office and throws Barton one nervous glance over her shoulder. Barton gives her two thumbs up in return.

She sits when directed to, her hands twisting nervously over her lap before she folds them together.

The whole time Fury watches her with mild interest.

“So, Ranger Belova scheduled an official drift compatibility session with you for tomorrow. I trust you know what that means.”

“Uh-huh, totally, uh, sir. I've done drift compatibility testing before.” Kate says, nerves hardly abated. She wasn't summoned to the director’s office when she was testing for compatibility with Johnny.

“This had to go through additional levels of approval.” Fury says cryptically.

This sparks so many questions from Kate, and she manages to hold them all in as Fury continues to talk.

“The additional approval was for if you'd be a good fit for A-Squad, piloting Dark Talon.” He says, hands folding together over a file. Even from here she can see her own, full name across the top. Within is possibly more information than she's ever thought possible in her life, it's certainly thicker than she thought it would be.

Excitement begins to enter the mix with nervousness. Somehow hearing this was for Dark Talon and A-Squad from the Director himself made it feel even more real. She doesn't know Yelena. Hell, she could be falling for the worst version of being punked in her life. But she doesn't think the Director has time for something like that.

“And?” She says, sitting up straighter.

“We think you'd be a good fit for A-Squad.” He concludes. “If things don't go well with you and Ranger Belova, there could still be a place for you there.” He flips open the file and right on top is a picture of her in her Hawkeye suit, bow drawn back and aiming a trick arrow down an alley.

Excitement grows and she grins. “Yeah?”

The memory fades and their drift sync stabilizes.

Relief floods into the drift — no argument.

“Of course not,” She says, and thinks “The drift argument usually only happens when both parties are stubborn and don't take a step mental step back.”

“Right, right. Well it's one thing to know that, from, like, academy, it's another to experience it.” Kate thinks.

Together they walk, if for nothing else to do for their hour of drifting.

In the drift she attempts to order her thoughts and present them to Kate. Everything: the suspicion of threat to Fury from the WCO (his bosses, so really it could be as something as simple as threatening to fire him), how he possibly brought her in to help him, the way she believes this ties in to Fisk and the Kaiju, and finally her attempting to remember her previous conversations with Fury for what could've been cryptic hints.

Kate takes in the thoughts and a contemplative silence elapses.

“So, let's go recent first while it's fresh,” Kate says, and then thinks, “Two commanders of his, and the phrase ‘Shooting from your hip’ , is there someone like a cowboy among the commanders?”

None that she can think of. Fury from even two years ago ran a tight ship, and the commanders have all been here through the whole of the program, even back when she had the time to be more scrutinizing of their every move.

She sighs, once again, because getting rid of a corrupt commander or two would be helpful to herself and Kate, but until they can root out the corruption from the WCO itself they will simply wind up in the same situation.

Her mind has been running in circles and it feels like Kate’s mind has simply joined in for laps with her.

She needs to focus.

What she really needs is a plain conversation with Fury. And then, possibly, to ask for help from more Widows if they were willing to give it. Possibly, if she can swing it, getting one on the inside. Everything just got so complicated.

“Well, slow down.” Kate says, jarring her from her thoughts.

“Right, one thing at a time.” Yelena says.

Tomorrow morning she will do some digging into the commanders, but for tonight they can drift and relax.

“You know what sucks?” Kate says, “We missed dinner because of this.”

“Right?” Yelena says. “Sent to drift without dinner. What are we, children?”

Kate feels slightly annoyed, mostly driven by hunger.

“We are so sneaking into the kitchens tonight.” Yelena thinks.

Kate mentally cheers.

Though what they will find that isn't raw items to be cooked is a bit beyond her, she's only ever snuck in for little sweets.

“Those are good too!” Kate says, thinking of the chocolates still stashed in their room.

“We can't fill up on just those though.” Yelena says.

“Aw! But we had a meal bar. That's nutritionally complete or whatever.”

She stares at Kate, who just grins at her.

“You have a horrible diet.” Yelena says.

“Um, my diet is whatever the academy-slash-shatterdome provides.” Kate says.

The rest of drifting passes in this easy manner, in fact it's easier than their usual drifting session, which have been ramping up in time and actions performed.

As soon as they disconnect and remove their suits they make their way to the kitchens.

It's dark inside, and everything is gleaming clean. She finds the empty and dark room comforting, and in the drift Kate feels amusement.

“Okay, I was thinking creepy, but you know what? You do you.” Kate says.

“Creepy?” Yelena says, at a much lower pitch.

“Uh, yeah, like literally every horror movie ever starts like this. You know, you'll hear a noise and be like,” Kate’s face takes on an overly serious expression that she doesn't even need to see to know it's there and slightly mocking, “‘Kate stay back, I'll go look,’ and I won't listen, and we'll both wander over and… well okay, in the horror movie we'd both die, probably. But I think we can take whatever it was! I mean you're you ,” Kate moves past Yelena's sarcastic ‘thanks,’ and keeps talking “and I'm the new Hawkeye!”

All the while Yelena pulled out the ingredients to make a couple decent sandwiches, while Kate hopped up to sit on the counter, legs swinging out as she talked.

“Who would be coming to get us in the middle of the Shatterdome?” Yelena asks, though Kate knows Yelena’s paranoid thoughts tell her that it's possible — especially if someone were determined enough, because she's certainly snuck her fair share of people in, and she's not a person with an ability to give someone sweeping and temporary access.

“Oh,” Kate says, drawing the word out playfully, leaning back on her hand while the other artfully twirls a spatula in her other hand. “Like that cursed nun from that one movie.”

“A cursed nun.” She says, pausing her chopping of a tomato long enough to send Kate an amused look.

“Okay, we've got to catch you up on pop culture things.” Kate says. Then she drops the spatula, curses lightly under her breath, and hops down to find it.

“I don't think my life is worse for not knowing about a cursed nun.” Yelena says, going back to building the two sandwiches, listening to Kate scramble around the floor to try to find the dropped spatula.

“No, but, it could be so much better.” Kate says, straightening with an ‘ah-ha’ holding up the now dist covered spatula.

“Oh, Kate.” She says, finishing and presenting the sandwich to her. “There is simply not enough time between the drifting, the WCO, and all the other things you want to do too.”

Kate tosses the spatula across the room, cheers when it lands in the sink perfectly, and then grabs the sandwich. “I just got the best idea!”

“Oh no, Kate, you're not going to think a movie into my head in the drift!” Yelena says, hopping up on the counter to steal Kate’s seat there.

“And why not? I think it's a great idea.” Kate says, one hand going to her hip.

“Mm you know what? Okay, yes. Show me your cursed nun movie in your brain right now. We are still ghost drifting, yes?” Yelena says, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Kate tries, she really, truly does. First bout of information is the most abridged details about some ghost hunter couple that Kate completes the thought with ‘they're boring so whatever we can skip all that’.

In Yelena’s opinion, this is exactly how she thought it would go.

Next Kate tries to think of the movie sequentially, does so for maybe a whole minute, decides to jump to the scary parts, remembers all the scary parts nearly at once, and then lumps in an anecdote of how she watched this with her friends and Franny had screamed so loud for the jump scare. She replays jump scare with Franny’s scream added in, and then the movie recreation stops there.

“That's it?” Yelena says, amused. “No ending to this movie? Plot?”

Kate takes a bite of her sandwich. “Whatever! The plot’s nonexistent anyway. And I don't remember how it ended. But you got all the important parts!”

She laughs. “I did?”

Kate shakes her head, too amused to be annoyed. “Yeah! Totally. Okay, we have to watch it now so you can see that it's the truth.”

“No, no. I think I got it.” Yelena says.

They clean the few dishes they created and return to their room.

"Oh!" Kate says in delighted surprise. She watches Kate look around the room at each of the things Yelena has added, her expression looking cutely awed. Kate wanders over to a fake plant, hand going out and pinching the plastic leaves. "Wow, fake plant technology's really come far. This looks real!"

"Right? Pretty crazy. Natasha always loved to have real plants around the apartment. The problem is we were never around to keep them alive. So she'd get deployed and I'd get busy, and every few weeks I'd be going out to the nursery and buying some new plants to replace the sad, brown things." Yelena recalls with that air of sad fondness.

Kate for her part listens well, slowly walking around the room and touching the fake plants as she goes, or stopping to admire a painting. "Oh god, yeah, I can't keep a plant alive either." Kate says.

"That's not surprising." Yelena says, plopping down on the bed.

"Wow! I could if I put my mind to it." Kate says.

Yelena feels the corners of her lips tug in amusement. "Okay, then. Do it."

"I will." Kate says, turning back and continuing on. She feels the joy from the drift Kate has as she looks at the painting of the weird dogs. "Obsessed with the proportions on these."

Yelena laughs. "Okay, right? What's with the legs?"

Kate laughs in return. "Next time we get time in the city I've got to take you to the Modern Art Museum. The stuff people can do with shapes these days is amazing."

"Hm, I bet." Yelena says, and the closest she ever came to something like this, was going to a zoo as a girl. She doesn't recall that much about it, apparently a new chimpanzee was causing quite a stir, but what she can remember is being absolutely taken by the fat, green caterpillar slowly chewing through a leaf. She'd spent the whole time watching it studiously eating, while Melina, Alexei, and Natasha had all remarked on the chimp.

Kate sits down next to her, which turns to laying down next to her on her phone. "You would be fascinated by a little bug." In the drift, Kate is remembering being in middle school during lunch, and sitting outside watching a bee fly from flower to flower. The other kids had screamed and ran away, but the bee hadn't paid her any mind. In Kate's own way, she's telling Yelena 'me too', which is sweet in more ways than Yelena can properly think about.

Chapter Text

Broken Up For Good?!: The A-Squad exploded onto the scene in 2012 after victoriously stopping a Kaiju attack. They had an amazing run, scoring victory after victory. But rumor has it that they’ve hit some troubling times with a fight between the leaders of A-Squad and Co-Pilots of Iron Bulwark. Now the duo has broken up with harsh words being traded. Turn to page 5 for more details from an inside source…

• (Clipping from the cover of Seventeen Magazine, March 2016 publication.)

To wake to a room and see her new decorations up and around brings a spark of joy to Yelena this morning. She takes nearly a minute sitting in her bed to admire the change.

Kate throws her looks between fond and amused as she goes through her daily routine. “You like it?” Kate asks once Yelena finally stops and gets started herself, heading to the bathroom to get ready.

“I do.” Yelena says. The last time she'd taken any amount of time to decorate was… a long time ago. Seeing it now is like a bridge connecting those nice parts of her life to now. The room is better with both of their influences in it.

“We should totally get more. Like look,” Kate says from the doorway of the bathroom, and when Yelena pokes her head out of the bathroom to look, Kate’s pointing to a still mostly empty shelf. “Next time you should go nuts and buy a ton of things to put up.” Kate says, disappearing back into their room to continue her own daily routine.

Yelena hums, carefully applying blue eyeliner. She pokes her head around the doorway again to look at Kate's who's hopping around trying to get a sock on while standing. “I want you to join me next time. We’ll pick out things together.”

Kate stills and looks up to her quickly, reminding Yelena of an eager puppy, being asked to go on its second ever walk. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” She says, going back to the delicate application of make-up. The chaos of trying to find decorations to both their taste should be fun enough to stand on its own, Yelena thinks. But it'd be even better to look at something and know they see each other in it. Plus it may go a long way into tying the room together.

Kate leaves the room already five minutes late to her solo training with Barton, a feat Yelena doesn't know how she accomplishes just about every time, even when she gets up earlier to ‘give herself time’ she somehow manages to be late.

But for Yelena her solo training is just with the AI recordings, a teacher who doesn't care if she's not on time, or if she scrolls through her phone, or if she paces the room up and down half paying attention, or if she performs a completely different task, or even if she interrupts.

Like right now, the AI teacher is going through a self-guided course for calibrating the Drivesuit. “AI?”

The recording pauses. “Yes, Ranger Belova?”

Always with the formalities. It's like the system resets every now and then and goes back to calling her by her rank, instead of by just her surname as she requests.

“Bring up everything you have on Kate Bishop.” She says.

The AI whirls in place before a set of documents spreads out in front of her. The same stuff she's seen since Kate first became her drift partner: academy scores, combat recordings, remarks from training staff and teachers on behavior and intelligence.

But this time, she found Natasha’s codes for backdoors to the system. There are many, but she starts in the most obvious place based on the memory Kate showed her last night in the drift. “Override: Fury, NVVZL9506.”

About a dozen more files join the spread, and she looks them over before selecting the first new one.

Record: Bishop, Katherine Elizabeth

Hazard Oversight: Medium (source, documents AA-12-17-24 through F27-05-21-25)

Alias: Hawkeye

Occupation: Jaeger Pilot (Dark Talon)

Co-Pilot: Белова, Елена. 

Notes: Tentative start date 07-14-25

Hazard Oversight, medium? They've miscalculated, which is laughable. She's nearly tempted to see what they may say about herself — a particular vanity and ego stroking she's indulged in in the past, but hasn't since her return. She attempts to access the files and gets a red, glaring access denied. Interesting. Must be one of Fury’s other override codes. Whatever Kate did with Barton over Christmas left some sort of impression with both Fury and the WCO enough to have a risk assessment completed.

But before breaking out more override codes, she looks over the rest of the files: some detailing her mentorship under Barton, some of Fury’s personal notes on her Jaeger Pilot training, and some of Dottie’s notes as their handler. It comprises a pretty good, but short picture. It also doesn't look like it's nearly as thick with information as there was in Fury's physical file in Kate’s memories. He could've stuffed blank pages in to intimidate her, she guesses. Though that seems unlikely. Her hour ticks over and she takes pictures of the documents on her phone to review in more depth later.

For now, she heads to breakfast, mulling the information over. The A-Squad was personally overseen by Fury and the WCO. If Kate Bishop were screened and on the short list to join without Yelena one of the Commanders had to sign off on it. No way Barton had that amount of sway. He would have enough to get her on Yelena’s Co-Pilot list. But to promise a position on the team? A favor from mom, perhaps? In exchange for what?

These are more things to add to the ever evolving mystery of Wilson Fisk and the WCO. But one of these threads will lead them to their mystery WCO leak. She mentally lists the threads she has right now:

1. Wilson Fisk’s Secret Kaiju.
2. WCO member threatening Fury with something.
3. A commander who is in either WCO and/or Fisk’s back pocket.
4. Eleanor Bishop and Bishop Security still linked in all of this, which could mean that Kate is somehow part of it (if only in a way she doesn't know about).
5. And all to obtain a goal that she doesn't quite get the full picture of, but ostensibly it's linked to the Red Room’s mind control.

What a headache this stupid stuff is. She wishes the people in charge of the world’s safety had no greater ambition than keeping the world safe.

She finishes her contemplative breakfast and the co-pilot training begins again as it always does.

However, later in the day there's a change in their drifting session and safety course, and she knows exactly what that means. Safety drifting course. There are just a few emergency situations to train for while drifting specifically and they're each tedious.

She pushes these thoughts (and all the others) aside so she can focus on sparring with Kate.

The Jaeger Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is progressing nicely. Right now they're practicing another new move, this one is another close body juke that gets them to duck under a Wiwaxian’s reach and past its defenses.

She watches Kate roll her shoulders loosely — warned up and cocky smirk in place as she ushers Yelena on. “Think you're going to win this one?”

“Obviously.” She says, mirroring Kate’s confidence. The back and forth is quick — Kate does a quick jab that Yelena executes the dodge against: curling her upper body down and sideways and sliding closer to Kate’s body. From here a series of quick punches can be thrown to her upper body.

They separate and they trade places. This they only do a couple of times until the movement feels familiar, then they abandon traditional training to go into sparring.

She finds herself (increasingly more often) impressed with how quickly Kate picks up these moves.

Right now Yelena charges forward with a wide swing, teeth bared from the effort.

Kate shifts down and sideways, her movements graceful and easy. She gets a good hit to her stomach and Yelena can feel more than see the smug smirk on Kate’s face as she takes a long step back outside Yelena’s reach.

Sure enough, when they both reset stances, Kate’s got that confident grin on her face, the kind that's nearly tempting to remove by any means she can think of.

Yelena once again closes the distance, taking in Kate’s stance for any weakness she can immediately take advantage of. She steps in and kicks, keeping her arms close to her body.

Kate pulls back in a fluid motion, dodging once again. She's light on her feet, and Yelena decides to follow after her.

The flow of their bodies together is even better than it was in their first drift compatibility session, that spark being carefully built on.

“So!” Kate says, as she ducks back to avoid a quick jab from Yelena. “I've been thinking about our little rat. Or snake?”

“Snake, I think.” Yelena says, stepping wide into Kate’s space so she can throw an elbow. “What're you thinking?”

Kate counters the elbow with a redirect, and Yelena has to move into a roll to avoid being tripped. “Well!” Kate says, working to keep her breathing even. “If we can't get information from Fury maybe we can do some digging into the commanders ourselves.”

Yelena pops back up to her feet, and to her pleasure Kate’s moving thoughtlessly in sync with her, keeping pace with Yelena and throwing a high kick toward her head. Yelena has to duck to avoid it. She's spent so much time of this spar on her back foot, she's got to change it up. “Stalking or digital?”

The kick is beautifully executed from start to finish, and Kate has to perform a little spin to keep her footing and position. Yelena uses the moment as Kate’s foot touches down to go for a shove, hands connecting with Kate’s torso.

Kate flounders a bit, trying to keep her balance. She stumbles back and Yelena thinks of a few moves that would be a good closing of the spar: uppercut to Kate’s jaw, trip to floor her, dart behind and put her into a headlock for a tap out. Instead she slides up for another shove.

“All digital digging is stalking!” Kate huffs, mostly from the strenuousness of the workout. “But digital first. I know enough about —” And here Kate tries for a sucker punch to switch the dynamic of their fight, Yelena barely manages to dodge. “— cyber security that I think I can get into their personal devices remotely.”

“Okay, do that.” Yelena says, grabbing Kate’s wrist and attempting to twist Kate around to wrench her arm behind her back. “Their phones especially.”

Kate’s good, and Yelena feels a surge of pride that Kate does a good duck and spin to regain control of her arm. “Anyone you want to start with?”

They separate, breathing heavy. It was a good dance they just had. “Hill.” She says, the closest to Fury out of the four commanders. If they can rule her out as the one who's turned on him then there's also a good chance that Fury is using her assistance to try to regain control, so it'll be good to keep tabs on her.

“Roger that.” Kate says, and they simultaneously break away and cool down.

Here, as they prepare to continue on to classes, Yelena sees the change in schedule once again. The drifting session to take place during their safety course.

“Sync-pi—?” Kate says.

“Yes, our safety drifting.” Yelena explains, and they head back to their room together to freshen up.

“Oh, okay. Those sound like a lot.”

And they are, precisely, a lot. It'll be good for Kate to go through these, and it's been a long time for Yelena since she's had practice of these too. So, she reasons to herself, it'll be good.

It'll be fine.

All the rest of their classes and a quick break for lunch pass by in a bit of a blur, Yelena's mind keeps getting caught on their sync-pi session. Who is she kidding, this will suck so bad.

They arrive to the session and are handed packets of information right off the bat.

“So, this is a safety drifting session. I trust you've both seen the change and are mentally ready to drift.” Dottie says, more than asks, but all the same they don't continue until they both affirm that they have. Dottie continues, “Well it's early, technically, but where you're both at in drifting we should've done this a little sooner.”

Kate finishes skimming the safety sheet, “Okay, so the itinerary’s been saying ‘sync-pi’, which, I see now means —”

Yelena confirms right with her, “Unconscious pilot. Yes. We had one unfortunate incident where someone had blood drawn, and the memory of it made the co-pilot faint. So now we do it as SOP.”

Dottie nods. “Yep. The idea is to do this in three parts. First two are standard faints from reflex syncope. This will last under thirty seconds. The third is for if — god forbid — the pilot is out-out. So for this you'll each be put under for longer so you can learn to power down while in an altered state of consciousness.”

“Oh boy,” Kate mutters.

Yelena opens her mouth to respond, but Dottie has found what they're looking for, and continues to speak: “I looked through the process and verified your medical charts are good for this process but please review it and sign off on it anyway, just in case.”

They're each handed another small packet of paper. Honestly, Yelena’s seen just about every version of this, having helped create the escapes for sync-pi. Well, they came from the Red Room first. Semantics.

But still she skims for changes, and the usual things are found: altered consciousness levels and symptoms of each, sodium nitroprusside and potential side effects, physostigmine and how long it takes to activate in the bloodstream, blah blah blah, whatever. It all looks the same to her.

She watches as Kate more studiously takes in the information, her lips pursing a few times before she lowers it and looks at Yelena.

Yelena raises one brow and tips her head. Up to you, is what she really means with the gesture.

Kate nods. “Okay,” She says, and signs the release form.

Yelena does the same. 

“Great, looks good. The doctors will fill you in once you're suited up.” Dottie says and leaves the cockpit to go to the control room.

“This will suck so bad.” Yelena huffs.

Kate’s expression shutters from nervous to blank.

“Oh, I just meant,” Yelena mentally winces. “If you're fainting you like, go all limp and someone catches you. Very dramatic. But it feels weird in the drift from both ends. Just something to get used to.” Yelena says, and hopes she helps.

Clearly she doesn't because Kate blanches. Then she shakes out her shoulders and swivels her head in a sort of trying to loosen up gesture, the very same she does just before they start sparring. She shakes her hands and blows out a few quick breaths.

This has not done wonders for the assistants helping her put on the Drivesuit. But Kate certainly seems calmer.

“You want me to go first?” Yelena offers.

“Uh — for what? Which part is ‘first’?” Kate asks, putting her helmet on, so she's muffled very briefly.

“I remain the conscious one.” Yelena says.

Kate thinks about it, and Yelena watches her. First her head tilts and her brows furrow, and then she squints. Yelena has no doubt if she weren't having the leg pieces installed right now she'd do a little pace as a show of nerves.

“I don't think I want to be unconscious first.” Kate says finally.

“Okay.” Yelena says. “Have you ever done, like, hallucinogens? Ah, 'shrooms or something?”

“No. But NyQuil gives me crazy dreams. Does that count?” Kate asks.

Yelena shakes her head. “No, you'll need to have been awake. Well at its worst, if a co-pilot is really out, it's like you've taken shrooms or something similar.”

“This is.” Kate takes in a quick breath. “This is so not helping.”

She laughs a little and claps Kate on the small pauldron at her shoulder. “It won't be that bad. You'll just feel weird. Okay?”

They're approached by the doctors in their medical team, who fill them in on what to expect: a dose of sodium nitroprusside based on their weight, a list of symptoms to expect. The usual stuff.

They hook up to the Pons System. There's a nervous air from Kate, and so the first memory that pushes through is one of hers.

Kate’s sitting in a nearly empty locker room. She's twelve and all long limbs — not nearly as tall as she will be, but taller than Yelena ever was. A bow in her hands and a quiver in her back, she looks a bit like a dork. She's nervous because she's the closing shot for her school team. The rest of them are out there, counting on her. And she'd — well, the crowds and everything, it was almost too much. No, it was too much.

She’d come in here to calm down, but the spiraling thoughts had made her feel worse and now she feels on the verge of tears. She's being ridiculous, she knows but she just can't help it.

The sound of the locker room door opening makes Kate’s head shoot up and over: she should still have plenty of time. Thankfully it's just her mom.

“Hey,” She sniffles.

“Oh honey,” Mom says, immediately knowing Kate’s not doing well. She crosses the room, heels clacking and echoing as she goes. Her hands cup her daughter’s cheek. “Do you want to leave?”

“No.” Kate says firmly. She can't, not with her team counting on her.

“Good.” Eleanor says. She tips Kate’s head up to look at her. Eleanor's so much younger than she is today, but even then just four years a widow and it's taken its toll: wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and a certain hardness that's crystallized from something brittle. At Kate’s look, Eleanor continues. “You're always going to be scared, sweetie. But we don't back down.”

Kate nods, and Mom nods with her, a kind and reassuringly gentle smile on her face. Kate repeats: “We don't back down.”

“Right. We fake the confidence if we have to, but we don't back down.” Mom repeats, firmly.

In the drift, Kate’s mood lifts, a mantra that's gotten her through so much in her life.

The memory fades and goes into one of Yelena’s.

She's sitting in a field, yellowing grass all around her. She knows she's pretty well hidden, but it doesn't take long for Natasha to find her anyway.

“Hey,” Natasha says, plopping down on the grass next to her. Her legs are spread in a ‘v’ and she leans back on her hands.

“Hi.” She says finally.

“So that was something.” Natasha says.

“It really was.” Yelena says.

The silence that passes is somewhat uncomfortable, if mostly thoughtful.

Natasha breaks the silence, losing the weirdest game of chicken she's ever played. “You don't have to come.”

“No, I want to.” Yelena insists.

Natasha gives a loud guffaw. “No you don't. And you don't have to, really! You can stay here, relax, you know. Live.”

She gives Natasha her best, most unimpressed look. “With Melina and Alexei? Are you kidding? No, you said —”

“We stick together from now on, yeah.” Natasha says, or sighs really.

Yelena bristles. “Do you not want me to?”

“I do! It's just… I mean we'll be digging up Red Room files, working with the US government. You know, shit like that.” Natasha says, and her tone tells Yelena exactly what her sister thinks of all that: disgusting and horrible.

“Right, exactly. You're not doing this alone. Besides, you will not remember anything in your old lady brain. You'll need me.” Yelena says, displaying far more confidence than she feels.

“I always need my sister.” Natasha says.

And warmth blooms in her chest over it and settles something that felt unmoored. “Yep, you'd never be able to get those Jaegers to move if you're the only one there.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and jabs her shoulder. “Alright, okay. If you're going to be a brat the whole time I'm going to make them kick you out.”

“Hah! So funny!” She says, jabbing her sister in return.

The memory fades and the drift sync stabilizes.

As soon as the AI announces they're stable, the doctor approaches Yelena with a needle. She watches him jab it in and release the medicine.

The effect is pretty quick as her blood pressure drops. First the dizziness hits and the shortness of breath. Her steps become uncoordinated and beneath them the Jaeger treadmill shudders and stops as their movement is no longer in sync.

“Holy shit!” She thinks Kate thinks, but it could've easily been her, either way the thought is presented and she finds she vaguely agrees.

Her vision tunnels and dims and at some point she's stopped walking. She's going to faint. Later she might reflect on the way Kate’s awake and functioning brain seemed to prolong the experience, drawing out the sensation of losing consciousness. Some part of her is connected to Kate and it bounces between states. It's like she's dreaming, and then she's watching herself faint: body going limp and the doctor gently lowering her body to the floor.

Her thoughts become untethered, except for one: Kate Bishop still attached to her. The panic from Kate is a distant thing that makes her want to reach out and grab her hand. Instead all she can do is linger in this halfway state, unable to do more than exist just like this.

And then she blinks as she's roused by the doctor.

She feels grumpy and groggy as she puts herself upright. A headache has formed in her head and her fingers touch the hard plastic of the helmet, only now realizing she'd raised her hand to rub her temple.

Next to her Kate’s done the same gesture.

“Jesus,” is all Kate says. Or maybe she does, she still feels a little disconnected from herself.

She's handed an orange juice and a granola bar with instructions to drink the juice first. After the juice she feels much, much better.

She sighs and can see the readouts on her heart rate have evened back out. The doctor checks her telemetry readings and says into his comm that she's good. Next to her the same thing is happening to Kate.

Once the headache clears she becomes aware she's drifting with Kate still.

“You okay?” She thinks.

“That was so weird,” Kate thinks, and then a rush of thoughts come all at once: a cute, Labrador puppy fills the drift as Kate attempts to cheer herself up, but at the same time she's thinking of the way she felt like she was being sucked in to something, mentally, like she needed forty coffees to feel awake. But once it was done it was like a rush in a different direction — a nearly manic cheeriness at being awake and aware.

“Yes, it's weird, isn't it?” Yelena says.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Kate says.

Drifting with Widows in combat scenarios has made Yelena realize that each person who went unconscious presents the awake drifter with a unique set of sensations.

One time Sonya was knocked out by a panicked and lucky security guard, and Yelena felt like she entered a daydream; every action carried a surreal feeling, even the feeling of being stabbed had deliriously made her laugh. The closest she ever got to the same sensation was being awake three days in a row.

Now, once her blood pressure adjusts and she's ready for Kate, she first shares a look at Kate. Kate chews nervously on her lip.

“It's okay. Have you ever fainted?” Yelena hadn't thought to ask before.

“No, and I'm not — I'm not scared, I'm just thinking about it too much.” Kate thinks in return.

“That's okay, you did great for your first time. Earlier.” She thinks.

In the drift Kate feels better with the compliment, which is chased by self-deprecating amusement — likely she picked up all the little secondary emotions Yelena felt with her thoughts, playing into Kate’s love of validation, and also her desire to do a good job. “Okay, I don't need to get an ‘A’ in fainting class,”

“No? I thought you had to get summa cum laude in drifting thoughts, in general.” Yelena jokes.

“Rude!” Kate laughs.

And Yelena joins her.

“Ready?” Dottie asks.

She looks at Kate again.

Kate nods, and then says “Yes.” Into the comm.

She watches the doctor approach Kate with the needle, and (a completely baseless) fear grips her for a half second, along with a (pointless) surge of desire to protect her. (What is she thinking?)

In the drift Kate feels amused anyway.

In the field there was never a sign someone is going to get knocked out, not like this. Kate’s heart rate kicks up a notch when the doctor approaches, and her thoughts do a brief spin of panic.

Once the medicine is dispensed, there's a fair few seconds for Kate to think “That wasn't so bad!”

Which doesn't last very long because Yelena begins to feel the pulling sensation of the faint. Usually there isn't enough time to think anything more beyond ‘Oh no,’ which is about how far Kate gets.

All the while Yelena feels the way it fills the drift with a kind of static — buzzing thoughts that never finish forming or rise out coherently into a picture.

A sort of tingling sensation takes her, a feeling like she's just started winding down from being drunk: the floor sailing beneath her and every time she blinks the room spins. The feelings she has are slippery too, mood swinging from mindfully calm to dread and then to distantly sleepy.

Her world becomes unfocused and her thoughts bounce around half-formed. In the drift the static is nearly overwhelming, like it'll consume her too. 

Then Kate’s rousing. She looks clammy and pale, though Yelena imagines she didn't look much better herself.

Even though it was for maybe fifteen seconds, it was long enough that Yelena’s still disoriented a bit.

Kate’s thoughts begin to form again, slowly. First a very emphatic “Fuck.” Is thought.

As the orange juice and granola bar do their work, the next thought is “Worst nap ever, what the hell.”

“Right? And you don't even feel good after.”

“And you don't even feel good after!” Kate repeats, exclaiming in loud agreement, startling the doctor reading her telemetry charts. “Sorry,” she says sheepishly.

They're disconnected completely from the drift right now, and it's really for the doctors to make sure there's no side effects to the sodium nitroprusside on them — or worse, like a hidden heart condition makes itself known. So, they're disconnected and sat down while Dottie walks back in to give their spiel on the next portion of training.

The thing is, in training the command center has access to all the buttons the co-pilot does, so they can jump in and deactivate settings and shut the cockpit down to keep the neural load from becoming overwhelming for the conscious pilot.

In the field it's completely up to the co-pilot to navigate and shut things down. The cockpit is a closed system — so the command center can only attempt to help guide the co-pilot through being in an altered state of consciousness to shut down the Jaeger.

If it's a faint, the co-pilot should be up in under thirty seconds — but, again, in the field there's simply no way to know; especially if a firm blow to the Jaeger’s head knocks them out. It could be a faint, it could be something much worse.

Dottie explains, the first response is to try to rouse the pilot by speaking, spiking adrenaline, and transmitting thoughts to them in the drift. Yelena's heard thinking of falling works pretty well too, but she's never been in a position to try that one before.

It's when the pilot is really unconscious that the escapes are trickier — powering down the Jaeger alone, making sure the Drivesuit life support has activated for both pilots, and disconnecting from the drift, all while having an altered state of consciousness and doing it before the neural load becomes too taxing.

These are things Dottie explains to them, and they will do both today — first trying to rouse the sync-pi, and then second trying to shut down the cockpit and end drifting.

“Whenever you're ready.” Dottie says at the end.

Yelena herself is as ready as she'll ever be for things like this.

Together they get the Spinal Clamps attached, and hook up to the cockpit and while they do the doctors explain once again what's going to happen — like they maybe stupidly forgot in the last twenty minutes.

They connect to the drift and Kate’s still nervous about passing out. The drift sync is stabilizing faster since they were ghost drifting, and she's vaguely aware that they’ll be stable within seconds.

“It's okay,” She thinks. “Remember, breathe.”

She feels in the drift more than sees Kate nodding, and it's really not like she offered much in terms of reassurance, but Kate does feel better all the same.

“You did this as a trainer?” Kate asks, thinking back to Yelena’s earlier thoughts.

She hums. “Yes, for a short while this was part of regular training. But it was found to be more effective to learn this with your co-pilot.”

“That makes sense!” Kate says.

The doctor approaches her again once again the medicine goes in.

It doesn't take long for the effects to take place, the tunneling vision and the shortness of breath.

But, something's wrong, is about as far as she gets to think before a tingling sensation grows from the tips of her fingers and toes to her hands and feet and then quickly into her arms and legs.

Her heart flutters and weakness takes her. She blinks and she's sunk to her knees. The doctor is holding her upright.

A kind of panic enters her mind, distant and vague. They're still drifting, Kate’s thoughts rapid zaps and nearly impossible for Yelena to pick apart and make sense of — they bleed into the rest of the sensations in her body.

Her hand comes up to point to the disconnect button, just out of reach, but the gesture is wide and hard to interpret, she can't even get her fingers to bend so she can point.

The doctor lowers her, he must because her view changes to the ceiling of the cockpit, and he's saying — something, but a ringing is in her ears, a kind of annoying and long tone.

She's going to faint.

It takes a lot of effort, but she turns her head to look at Kate, whose hands scrabble at the helmet of her Drivesuit. They have to disconnect, is what she thinks she says, but can't be sure, the breathing’s become too hard as her chest painfully tightens, never mind the speaking.

Kate kicks out of the treadmill, and she can see a flurry of action making its way to her — blurry blobs though they all may be: the medical team, assistants, Dottie.

But she finishes passing out.