Thank you to everyone who expressed condolences on my mother's death. I've always said I have the best readers, and that's never been more obvious than now. *HUGS* to all of you!

Much like "The Coward and the Valiant," this little story wouldn't let me alone until I wrote it…and now I'm starting to feel like I want to work on "Child of Iron" again. Unfortunately (looks at calendar) August has filled up with Hubby's family obligations, so I don't expect to post a new chapter of "Child" until the first weekend of September. I *might* get lucky and get back to it sooner, but I'm planning for that weekend.

As always, all rights in this story are hereby given to Disney/Marvel and the other relevant copyright owners.

The funeral was far more public than Yelena Belova would have preferred. Natasha had lived most of her life in the shadows, only coming into the spotlight when aliens invaded New York, so this spectacle of a funeral service hardly suited her.

Politics. It is always politics.

Once, she would have smiled at the thought, shared her amusement with her sister. Now, it simply … irritated her that so much of her sister's life was being ignored.

Not that the people at the gravesite she observed from her perch in a tree perhaps a hundred yards away would ever even consider that they might be ignoring, let alone denigrating, the life of Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow. No, they were far too wrapped up in themselves, the impression they made on the reporters who documented the entire thing, to truly think about Natasha.

Every Avenger had come to the gravesite, each one dressed in the black of mourning - except the Wakandan delegation, who wore their own traditional clothes, though they bowed to American custom enough to wear black bands around their left arms - and the news media had followed like the scavengers they were.

Her gaze slid past the reporters back to the Avengers themselves. Now, they were people Yelena could respect, from Captain America standing straight and tall despite his advanced age, to the sorcerer whose face was etched in grim lines, to the blonde Asgardian with his long hair tied back in a simple ponytail. They had been Natasha's comrades, perhaps even her friends.

Friends….

She frowned as she scanned the crowd once again. Where was-?

"Yelena, right?"

She didn't jump. She didn't. She did start, just a little, before looking down from her perch and into impossibly blue eyes. Recognition hit. Clint Barton, Hawkeye. The man who'd helped Natasha get out of the Red Room.

Then what he'd said registered.

"You know my name?"

"And that you're Natasha's sister," he said, and his mouth quirked in a brief smile at what she knew must be her shocked expression. "There was a lot of downtime on assignment, sometimes. We talked."

Yelena nodded, because what was there to say to that? She'd known Natasha was close to Barton and his family, just not how close.

Close enough to talk of the Red Room. And me.

She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.

"Mind if I join you?" Barton asked.

Yelena shrugged. She'd been found. If he'd wanted to kill her, he could've done so already, so there was little danger, and perhaps some advantage, in letting him get closer.

With an agility that didn't surprise her, he joined her on the sturdy oak limb. Briefly, she considered switching places so that he, significantly heavier than she was, could have the sturdier part of the limb. Then she decided that she preferred the security of the trunk at her back and if he wanted to take the risk of the limb breaking off under him, it was his choice to make.

For long minutes, they sat quietly together, watching those who'd assembled below as, one by one, they turned away. There was no body, and therefore no coffin that would be lowered into the ground, just a stone that Thor and Captain America had hoisted into place. The sorcerer cast a spell - or that's what Yelena assumed his hand-waving meant - and it was done. No reason to linger, and yet, she did and Barton did beside her.

"I tried to sacrifice myself," he said quietly, when only a handful of people remained. He huffed a quiet laugh. "We fought over it, actually - the decision as to which of us would be the sacrifice so the other could retrieve the Soul Stone."

"What happened?" Yelena asked, curious despite herself. Natasha was dead. Why should the how of it matter?

"Literally a fight. I knocked her down, she got me with a Widow's Bite, I got her with a bola and ran for the cliff." Barton paused, staring at something only he could see in his mind's eye. "I leapt, then she caught me, fired a grappling line, and hooked it to my belt. I caught her, but … she kicked away and fell."

The simple words had layers of meaning and emotion that Yelena refused even to try to analyze.

Instead, she simply asked, "This was necessary?"

"We couldn't have reversed what Thanos did without it."

"Then she was glad to do it."

"Glad did I live and gladly die," Barton murmured, "and I laid myself down with a will."

The words sounded poetic, though Yelena had never heard them before. She'd look them up sometime. For now, "Yes. That is exactly it."

Finally, the only people remaining at the gravesite were a woman and three children. Who had they been to Natasha that they lingered so long?

"I suppose you've got to get back to whatever assignment you're on?" Barton offered.

Yelena chuckled. "They think I am already there."

Barton grinned. "Can they think that a little longer?"

She flicked a startled glance at him. "Perhaps. Why?"

"Tasha left a few things at our place. Thought you might want them. And you can meet your honorary niece and nephews."

"Niece and nephews?"

"My kids. They called her Auntie Nat, and you're her sister, so honorary aunt."

Yelena considered that for a long moment before offering a tentative smile. "I'd like that."

Six months later…

"Maybe you'd like a shot at the man responsible for your sister's death."

Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine's words echoed in Yelena's thoughts as she guided her truck down a narrow, two-rut road. Beside her, Fanny, the dog she'd adopted - or who had adopted her, depending on how she chose to look at it - stuck his head out the passenger window, tongue lolling and ears flapping a bit even though the terrain demanded she drive slowly.

Fontaine's blatantly manipulative words raised a host of questions. How did she know how Natasha died? Who had told her? Or did she know anything at all, and was she instead manipulating Yelena for her own purposes? If so, what might those purposes be?

"Pizdets." The curse came unbidden to her lips, making Fanny turn to her briefly before returning to the cavalcade of scents outside the window.

Such questions were - what was the phrase? oh, yes - above her pay grade. She could only hope her target would be able to help her answer them.

The truck curved around a low hill and her destination appeared before her.

The farmhouse hadn't changed since she'd been here last, save that where before she'd visited in late spring, now the nip of autumn filled the air and the leaves that had been green then had faded into reds and gold.

Yelena pulled the truck to one side of the drive and shut off the engine. Beside her, Fanny's tail wagged madly, thumping against the back of the seat.

She sat still for a count of ten, then opened the door and slid out, allowing Fanny to leap out of the truck before she closed the door.

Fanny immediately set off exploring and sniffing the area. Yelena, though, just took a couple of steps to the front of the truck and leaned against it, her hands resting against the front grille.

The pose wouldn't fool her quarry, but it should help to convince him that she came in peace.

It wasn't long before the farmhouse door opened and her target, Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, stepped into view. In his left hand, he held his bow and an arrow ready to nock.

"Nice dog," he said.

"I always wanted one, since I was little," she replied. It wasn't much of a code phrase, but then, they hadn't set one up before. She hoped he remembered that bit of conversation from those months ago.

Barton grinned briefly, then whistled. Fanny's head shot up from where she'd been sniffing a pile of leaves, but rather than turn toward Barton, she looked to one of the outbuildings. A second later, another dog - a retriever of some kind - came bounding around it. Seconds later, the dogs were sniffing each other's butts in greeting.

"C'mon in," Barton said, and Yelena would never admit she breathed a relieved sigh as she strode toward the farmhouse.

"Laura went into town," he said as she drew closer. "Groceries," he added though she hadn't asked. "The kids are in school. What's up?"

"I went to the marker yesterday," Yelena answered as she stepped into the house that reminded her so painfully of the one that featured in her earliest memories.

"Mm." Barton hung his bow on a rack by the door and replaced the arrow in the quiver that hung beside it.

"I wasn't the only one to visit," Yelena added, and that made Barton look at her. "Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine."

Barton swore under his breath. "What did that bitch want?"

"To give me my next target. The man responsible for my sister's death."

"Thanos is dead already," Barton pointed out.

Yelena smiled. "She meant you."

Barton blinked. "What? But-"

Yelena held up a hand. "You told me." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless you lied?"

"No," Barton answered immediately, and everything in his micro-expressions and body languages confirmed it. "I would've given anything to have died in her place."

"Even if it meant losing your wife and children?"

"Saving them, and everyone else who was lost when Thanos snapped his fingers, would've been worth the cost."

Yelena wondered if Laura and the children would agree but didn't voice the question aloud. Instead, she said, "So I began to ask questions of myself, and I have no answers. I hoped you might."

Barton's grin promised there would be hell to pay.

Yelena gave him a matching grin. "Natasha and I brought down the Red Room. I'm sure you and I can bring down Fontaine."

"Then let's get started."

END NOTE: Yes, I'm ending it here because I haven't watched "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" and therefore I know nothing about the MCU-TV version of La Contessa other than the post-credits scene of "Black Widow." If anyone has ideas for how to continue this, go for it! Just please let me know the name of your story so I can read it!