Immediately Post-Endgame, established quasi-parental relationship and Red Room connection between Bucky and Yelena. Listen here
Yelena isn’t sure she’s ever felt this much and this little all at once.
She doesn’t really know how she ends up in Norway at Natasha’s old trailer. The second Ana tells her what happened her brain gets fuzzy and her stomach turns and she runs, ignoring Ana’s voice in the background. She doesn’t know much but she does know she’s shivering and soaked and dizzy, that her stomach is empty, her head is throbbing, her hands are shaking. She’s still in her tac suit and kevlar. The RV is basically crumbling before her eyes. Yelena realizes with a sickening jolt that it’s been 7 years since Norway and Taskmaster and the Red Room, and her knees buckle. She can’t stand anymore, so she lets herself collapse into the icy grass and crawl.
There’s no power in the trailer, not that there ever really was. The generator was always shit, and Yelena doesn’t have a spare pair of socks, let alone gasoline for it. She flops face first on Natasha’s bed, squeezing her eyes shut and pushing her face into the pillow.
If she really, really focuses, if she breathes just right, if she lies to herself and pretends, Yelena is convinced she can still smell Natasha on the sheets.
She manages to drag herself to her feet and struggle out of her rain soaked tac suit, pulling on some clothes she finds. The bed-she can’t bring herself to sleep in the bed. It’s Natasha’s bed.
Yelena has discovered a love of small spaces since being freed from Dreykov’s mind control. She feels safe and controlled in them, and the bed is just high enough off the ground that Yelena can slip under it, dragging a blanket or two with her. They’re dusty enough to set off a coughing fit, but she pulls them around herself and closes her eyes.
If she cries herself to sleep, there’s no one around to hear it.
Yelena remembers her burner phone three days later. It’s still in the pocket of her tac vest, and she only finds it because she trips over her own foot and her palm hits it. Yelena can’t remember the last time she’s eaten something solid-she found peanut butter and bouillon cubes in one of the pantries, and she thinks she’s been getting some of that down. It’s hard to tell, really. She found a lot of vodka, and she’s been drinking that pretty consistently. She’s drunk. She’s very, very, very drunk.
The burner is dead. She puts it on the charger. She doesn’t know why. She puts it on the charger and goes back to her nest under Natasha’s bed and goes to sleep. When she surfaces, the phone is charged, but it’s not until she’s eating a spoon of expired peanut butter she’ll probably puke up that she realizes there’s actual messages on that phone. Only one person knows about the burner phone. Natasha didn’t even know about this specific phone. Yelena clumsily flips the screen up and squints at it, but she can’t get her eyes to focus. She lets it fall out of her hand back onto the counter, because the peanut butter is making a reappearance. When she’s done throwing up she reaches for it again.
7 texts from him. The Winter Soldier. Yelena is too exhausted to read them, but she takes the phone back to her nest with her. Maybe if he tries again. Yelena curls herself onto her side and stares dazedly at the wall. She doesn’t know how long she’s been anywhere, how long her sister has been dead. Maybe it’s been a year. Yelena doesn’t feel like a person anymore. She closes her eyes.
When she wakes up it’s because her head is throbbing and her throat isn’t much better, and because the phone is ringing. She slaps at it with uncoordinated, limp fingers and forces herself to open the screen.
“Jesus, Belova-”
His voice makes her body tense up.
“Y-Yasha?” She doesn’t recognize her voice anymore. It sounds small and scared and sick and she hates it, hates herself. She almost shuts the phone.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for two weeks, kid. Jesus.”
Yelena doesn't say anything. She can’t. If she opens her mouth she might be sick, and she can’t be sick in her nest. It’s the only place it’s warm in the trailer. She forces herself to slide out from under the bed, clinging to the phone. The toilet is too far. She won’t make it-
She doesn’t throw up. She starts coughing, lungs twitching and aching in her chest, and curls forward onto her hands and knees, mucus caught in her throat. Distantly, she can hear Yasha through the phone. He sounds worried. He shouldn’t be worried. She’s fine.
“Koshechka,” Yasha murmurs, “Tell me where you are.”
Yelena feels sick. She’s too tired to fight. She slurs the coordinates to the trailer.
“I’m coming, okay?”
“N-nyet.”
“I’ll be there soon, Lenoshka.”
Yelena crawls back under the bed with her phone. Yasha stays on the line until she falls asleep.
It’s worse when she wakes up. It hurts. Her entire body hurts-there’s no more alcohol, the peanut butter makes her choke, all she can do is curl up and cough. She’s cold, and she’s lonely, and she’s scared that she-
No.
No. She’s not dying. She’s not going to die, not like Natasha. She’s not even sure she can die, she realizes. Her brain is on fire. Her skull throbs, even her hair hurts. She reaches for the phone. No battery. She’s too-it hurts. She can’t remember what she was going to do with the phone. The battery is dead.
Door. It’s opening. She doesn’t have a weapon. When she moves her entire body contracts with a coughing fit, which means she’s easy to find. Fuck. She wonders if she’s strong enough to even attempt to fight back-
“Yelena?”
The bed moves. She whimpers and ducks under the blanket because the light makes it worse, an ice pick through her frontal lobe. A large, calloused hand brushes against her cheek. That hand taught her to hold a pistol. She distinctly remembers it tangled in her hair, braiding. He’d been so good at braiding. There was an op where she called him Abba and he tucked her in at night. Is that where they are again? She’s hot enough that she might be back in the desert, too pale to convincingly blend in but deadly enough that they took the chance. She can’t remember where she is. If she calls him Abba will she be beaten? If she calls him Yasha she certainly will. Yelena starts to cough.
“Oh, fuck-”
Metal hand against her back, forcing her onto her side. No- they’ll be able to get to her like that, they’ll hurt her, she’s too small-
“I’ll be good,” she sobs, in between wet, hacking coughs, “Don’t hurt- no- Soldat please stop them-”
“Shhhh, shhhh, no one is going to hurt you. You’ll choke on your back.”
The coughing fit lasts until Yelena’s head goes fuzzy. The metal hand doesn’t hit her, just keeps her on her side. The flesh hand strokes her hair. She must be disgusting, sweaty and sick and soaked in vodka. Yasha doesn’t care. He rubs her back until she can breathe again, strokes her hair until she’s calmer.
“I-I don’t feel good,” she mumbles. It comes out in Romanian. Yasha taught her Romanian.
“I know,” he soothes, also in Romanian. Yelena snickers and then coughs herself into gagging. Yasha wipes her mouth with his sleeve even though nothing happens. She whines.
“Yelena, koshechka, you can’t stay here.”
“N-no,” she gasps, as Yasha lifts her into his arms and cradles her head, “She’ll- she’s coming back, she’ll come back-”
“No, baby,” Yasha says, impossibly sad, “Not this time.” He kisses her temple like he used to, when she was small and there weren’t handlers around, and he let her be a little kid.
Yelena cries herself into unconsciousness before they even make it to the door.
فيلم Avengers: Endgame 2019 مترجم مشاهدة فيلم Avengers: Endgame 2019 مترجم فى اطار من الاكشن والمغامرات والفنتازيا حول تدور قصة فيلم المنتقمون: نهاية اللعبة بعد تنفيذ ثانوس خطته الشريرة عقب استيلائه على أحجار اﻷبدية الستة، وقضائه على نصف سكان كوكب اﻷرض، تتفرق السبل بمن ظل حيًا من فريق المنتقمون في كافة اﻷرجاء، لتبقى الكثير من اﻷسئلة المعلقة: هل يوجد أمل باق في الانتصار على ثانوس؟ وهل يوجد ثمة حل ﻹعادة اﻷمور إلى نصابها من جديد؟
