Chapter Forty-Nine
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"Welcome to my abode," the woman said, in her heavy Russian accent. "Make yourself at home."

The cottage was a single-floor affair, well-worn and technology from a previous century. An old gas stove, a metal boiler, no TV or radio that I could see. Gauzy curtains over large picture windows that looked out into the tundra landscape — no one else for miles.

Melina did not introduce herself, but it wasn't hard to guess that this was the woman Nat and Yelena were looking for. The place was too normal, even for a remote farmhouse; so I wasn't entirely surprised when Melina revealed a hidden room behind the pantry shelves, where she stored her rifle, amidst the most high-tech little storage closet I'd ever seen. I could only catch a glimpse before Melina closed the door again, but I could make out the lead-lined walls, the blinking lights of computer and possibly radar, and an array of weapons; everything a hidden Widow would need to protect herself out here.

But that was less worrisome than the clear tension in the air. It was like entering the Twilight Zone; Alexei had disappeared into what I thought was the bathroom, Yelena lingered in a daze in the dining room. Natasha followed Melina, and I followed her, and Antonia wandered behind, looking completely lost.

"Any booby traps we need to worry about?" Natasha looked around warily. Her white catsuit seemed at odds with the rustic surroundings, the strange normalcy around us.

"I didn't raise my girls to fall into booby traps," Melina said with a soft snort.

"You didn't raise us at all," Natasha shot back, in such a tone that made me want to vacate the room, the house, entirely. There was nothing more awkward than being witness to another's family drama. I stepped away, silently gesturing to Antonia to follow; that sort of expression passing between us, the warning that she did not want to get involved with whatever conversation they were having. There was nowhere else to go, really. We joined Yelena at the dinner table, where there was only one place-setting, one seat, that ever seemed to be used. Even Melina — who might be the oldest Widow alive by the way Natasha had explained the Red Room to me — had her regular habits.

"Maybe so," Melina said, unscrewing the cap from a bottle of vodka. They weren't speaking in undertones, and I could tell Yelena was listening, too.

Yelena twitched in her seat; she could overhear, as the women weren't speaking in undertones. I feigned intense interest in the small potted plants on the windowsill.

"Who are the other two?" Melina asked, and this time her voice did lower. Not a conversation she wanted overheard. I tilted my head slightly. Before Natasha could answer, Melina added more intensely, "Did you kidnap Dreykov's daughter?"

"No," Natasha huffed. I could hear the rustling in the kitchen, the sound of bits and bobs being gathered for a meal, the clinks of glass and plates that partially covered their voices. "She ran away. So we're keeping her safe."

"And the big one?"

"Not Alexei's," Natasha said quickly. "No matter what he might say."

"I know that," Melina said with a sharp note, that tinge of a mother prodding her child. "You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do." Natasha replied, in that airy voice of feigned ignorance.

"My god, Natalia, " Melina whispered in a reproachful tone. "She looks just like him ."

Natasha paused. "I know."

"Does he know?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"Safe. You don't have anything to be afraid of."

Melina barked out a little laugh, loud enough that it made everyone jump a little. But her following words were still low. They were closer to the doorway now, and I could see their forms out of the corner of my eye, their heads turning. "Please. You were always naive, Natalia. The Soldat makes Alexei look like a toothless puppy dog in comparison." I felt her glance on me but was careful not to look up. "He trained her. I can tell. And you brought her here."

"You have nothing to be afraid of," Natasha insisted.

"I have everything to be afraid of," Melina's tone was hard and unforgiving. "You had to learn that mistake the hard way. I will not."

Melina made to turn away, but Natasha grabbed her arm. "She is my responsibility. I made that promise. Don't put yourself in jeopardy."

"Oh, is that a threat now?" Melina purred, and I thought I heard a smile in her voice. Approving. "You've gotten better. Now, come. Drink."

Melina planted the large glass vodka bottle on the table, then set out six small cups, just enough for each seat available. She sat next to Yelena, and Natasha next to me with her back to the window. There was an inscrutable expression on her face, something that told me the recent conversation had unsettled her. Dinner, as it was, consisted of whatever crackers, dried meat, fruit, nuts, and diced vegetables from her garden that could be served cold, immediately.

We waited for a few minutes for Alexei to join us — something was going on in that bathroom. We could hear the grunts and groans and straining of… whatever it was he was doing. I'd rather not think about it, and it seemed Melina was of the same mindset, as she began pouring vodka in lieu of waiting politely any longer.

I had only brought the shot glass to my lips when the bathroom door swung open and out stepped — the Red Guardian. I hadn't seen a lot of pictures of it, but after spending so much time with Steve, I realized how much the Russians had borrowed his basic iconography in the Red Guardian's suit. It was almost entirely red, with white accents, including the star in the center of his chest. The helmet was the only thing that probably still fit correctly, but the new untamed, scraggly beard ruined the effect of its coverage. For a minute, I could almost imagine what it might have been like to see a man in that suit twenty or thirty years ago.

So there stood Alexei, straining to fit in a suit made for a much trimmer man, huffing and puffing as he grinned and flexed for his audience. "Ah-ha! Still fits!"

Melina whistled, Yelena cursed under her breath, and I downed that glass of vodka too fast.

It burned down my throat and I coughed, doubling over slightly, but it worked. I was now distracted, and Natasha patted my back as Alexei lumbered over to the table, taking the end seat as he hummed a patriotic tune. The seat groaned beneath his weight, and he sat and grinned at us. "Ah, family. It is so wonderful to see all my girls together again."

"Well, seeing as our family was just a calculated construct that only lasted three years," Melina replied efficiently, as she began dividing the food from many tupperware containers onto various plates. Alexei was already helping himself. "I don't think we can use that term anymore, can we? Besides, I doubt our guests understand what you are talking about, Alexei."

"Nonsense!" Alexei exclaimed, having downed his first glass of vodka, on his second and taking a large helping of cold chicken. He gestured to Antonia and I with a drumstick, and I eyed it hungrily. "Melina, you remember Antonia, do you not? Look how big she's grown! Such a smart young girl. And she!" He grinned at me, "you may have guessed, is my daugh—"

I shot out my chair.

"NO." Yelena and Natasha boomed at once. At the same time, Natasha grabbed my arm and yanked me back down into my seat.

"Ach!" Alexei scowled, moment ruined, and Melina raised her eyebrows at him. "She is not. But Captain America abandoned her. I am clearly better suited to —"

"He didn't abandon me!" I snapped, half-rising out of my chair again. Once more Natasha yanked me back down.

"I don't really remember you…" Antonia said faintly, as Melina forced food onto Yelena's plate, who unsuccessfully tried to push it away.

But Alexei was already turning heart-eyes onto Melina, saying something about being "supple" and I immediately had to disassociate so I wasn't trapped in this hellscape of a family reunion anymore. Twice, Natasha tried to get the conversation on topic, twice Yelena refused more food and failed, no one listened to what Antonia had to say, and Melina never put food on my plate of all of us, and distinctly avoided my gaze whenever I looked at her — yet I felt her eyes on me whenever I was looking away.

"You're going to tell us how to get into Kitezh." Natasha finally managed to spit out amidst all the bickering and attempts to get her to stop slouching. That immediately brought a silence across the table.

Melina froze in the middle of spooning some salad into Yelena's plate. Then she inhaled and dropped another glob onto her plate before Yelena could stop her. "You come all the way here with Dreykova just to ask me that?" Then she turned to the super soldier. "This is your fault, Alexei. Letting them believe in Santa Claus, dressing up as him, it's no different."

"What? It was fun, I wanted them to dream!" Alexei protested. "I wanted them to reach for the stars. Look at them! At our amazing girls! Yelena, the deadliest child assassin who ever lived! Natalia, an Avenger! We could not have raised better children."

"Dreykov is not a fantasy," Natasha cut in.

But not even Alexei's encouragement, nor Natasha's intensity, seemed to convince Melina. She only shook her head. "You cannot defeat a man who controls the very will of others. You never saw the culmination of what we started in America." She glanced at Alexei, "Nor did you."

As Melina got up and left the table to fetch something, Natasha finally noticed how empty my plate looked and grabbed the bowl of chicken from Alexei ("Hey!") and dumped what he hadn't already gobbled up onto my plate. I began to pick at the meat, trying not to look as resentful as I felt, when Melina returned with a large tablet in her hand.

She tapped on the screen and announced, "Come in!"

For a moment, nothing happened. We all looked at each other, before the front door opened, and in came the clopping hooves of a large pot-bellied pig. Everyone stared at it.

The animal came to sit at Melina's feet. Natasha frowned. "Did that pig just open the door?"

"Yes," Melina said with a smug smile. "It did." Then, to the pig, she offered it some food from her plate. "Good boy, Alexei!"

That earned a matching frown from Human Alexei.

"You see he sits like dog? Amazing. Now watch," Melina began to fiddle with her tablet, and we all had to lean over to see past the table to watch. I could just glimpse the screen in her hands, the lines and images that indicated a command tree, a stack of functions, an image of the pig. Melina drew her finger across one function, draining the bar of color. "Stop breathing."

I blinked in shock, alarmed by the words alone. At first, it seemed to have no effect — the pig remained at her feet, sitting obediently, content. Until it started to twitch and jerk, making choking sounds as its mind resisted the instinctive, natural urge to draw in breath.

While it gagged, Melina continued speaking, "We infiltrated the North Institute of Ohio. It was a front for SHIELD scientists — actually, it was HYDRA scientists. In conjunction with the Winter Soldier project, they had dissected and deconstructed the human brain to create the first and only cellular blueprint of the basal ganglia; the hub of cognition. Voluntary motor movement, procedural learning."

"Winter Soldier?" Alexei repeated after a moment, blinking in confusion. He started to shake his head slowly, in denial. "No, that was not real. He was just boogeyman! Western propaganda to make us look like terrorists!"

"That's what you were told," Melina said gently. "It's not your fault, Alexei. You weren't meant to know."

"But then how —?" He asked, suddenly looking bereft, at a loss.

"Because he was there, in the Red Room," Melina continued. "He was a part of my training," She gestured to the other two widows. "He was a part of all of our training."

"But what is this Winter Soldier? What does this have to do with the pig?!"Alexei gestured to the animal. "Is that how you control him?"

"The Winter Soldier? No." Melina shook her head. "I don't know how it was done, only that it was not efficient enough for the KGB. The Winter Soldier underwent frequent mindwiping and re-calibrating, something that removes a certain amount of consciousness in his operation. He was not good for… continuous use. Not like a Black Widow. Dreykov wanted something more effective, on a larger scale."

The pig began keeling over, lacking the oxygen to stand anymore. Melina continued, "We didn't steal weaponry or technology. We stole the key to unlocking free will. Thus, our Bliss was born."

The pig dropped with a thump to the floor. I couldn't tear my eyes from it, my heart pounding in my ears.

"What are you doing?" Natasha demanded.

"Oh!" That finally seemed to remind Melina what she was doing to her animal, and she tapped at her screen again. "I am explaining that the science is now so exact, the subject can be instructed to stop breathing and has no choice but to obey."

It was only at Natasha's further insistence did Melina finally relent, even if she claimed that the pig could've survived another eleven seconds without oxygen. As soon as the pig gasped for air, so did I — I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath, too. Not because I'd been ordered to, but that I had forgotten, in the growing constriction around my chest, the seizing of muscles, my heart pounding with each new word Melina said.

She ushered the pig off with affectionate words, before turning back to the table, her expression mild. "The world functions on a higher level when it is controlled."

That was it for me. This time, when I flung out of my seat, Natasha didn't stop me. The chair fell back with an awful clatter, interrupting the silence that Melina had brought across the room. The noise made everyone jump and look in my direction. For a split second, I met Melina's gaze, my eyes blazing; her's cool and unimpressed. But just the flicker of something behind those hazel eyes. The slight twitch of her fingers towards a knife.

But I was gone before she could reach it.

"Now look what you did," Natasha's growl echoed behind me, barely audible to me beneath the sound of my footsteps, my breathing, my heart as a million thoughts and emotions and racing chemical panic flooded my brain, demanding release.

There was a closet. There was always a closet.

This one was not filled with a secret stash of guns and ammunition. This was a regular closet in the master bedroom — the only bedroom, probably. I didn't really get a chance to take in the space, all I cared about was finding that dark corner with no windows and four solid walls where nothing and no one could see me.

It was a tight fit. Barely three feet square, it was almost standing room only, but I managed to curl up on the bottom and shove the according door closed in front of me. It took a while for my breathing to calm down again. I'd left my backpack in the other room. My shield. I ached for it now, to clutch it against me for protection. But there was no way I was leaving the closet now, my sanctuary, not when my whole body shook with adrenaline, the fight-or-flight response of an immediate threat. If I left this closet, there was no telling where I'd end up next.

Beneath the sounds of my own blood pounding in my ears, I could hear more bickering. Natasha still sounded pissed. Arguing about Dreykov, who was the architect, the partner, the patsy. Family. It wasn't real. Another argument. Yelena's voice, breaking. Her voice was soft yet shaking, just faint enough that I couldn't concentrate enough to focus, to hear. I was still clutching at my sleeves, heard the popping of stitches as my own strength betrayed me. Trying to stifle my own tears, smother them before it overwhelmed me. Before any of them might hear.

Another bang of a chair. Natasha calling Yelena's name. Footsteps. A door closing, right nearby. And a shadow passing in front of my closet door. I froze, stopped breathing. For a split second, the prey animal in my brain sensed danger, readied to run or fight again. Then rational thought kicked in and I realized the sound of shuffling and a foot kicking a bed and cursing at her stubbed toe was only Yelena. And by the smell of it, she'd also taken the vodka bottle.

I heard the slosh as she took a swig. The small gasp, smacking of lips. Then a pause. "Terminator? Are you in here?"

I said nothing. Didn't move. Didn't blink.

Her steps went past the door again, pacing, looking around. There was other furniture, probably, checking behind everything. Her voice sounded warbly, wet with her own tears, but the vodka dried it out, making her cough. "H-hey, don't take it personal, okay? Not trying to intrude on your space. I can go find some other stupid hole to drown my sorrows in…"

I could see her silhouette between the thin slats of the door. Bending down to check under the bed. Behind the curtains. It wasn't like there were a lot of places that could hide a person my size. She was taking her time. Lazily loping about. Playing with me. A bubble of anger boiled up in my stomach, but I clamped it down. I heard part of the argument, and knew she was upset, too. And a little bit about the same thing, as well.

At last, she stopped in front of the closet. "If I open this door, will you kill me?"

I almost said no, before I remembered I still had a knife in my boot. Arms wrapped around my knees, it wouldn't be hard to reach. The way my heart still raced, how I saw faces in the darkness, how I twitched at every sound and movement — I couldn't say for sure. "...Maybe."

My voice was low and rough. But loud enough for Yelena to hear, and to know her guess of my location correct. Her shadow swayed on the other side. Then dropped, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the door. Another swish of vodka. "Fair enough."

A long pause. I wasn't sure what Yelena was doing. I was shivering so hard that the clothes hanging above me were rustling slightly. I could hear the conversation continue in the other room. At length, Yelena sniffled, wiping at her nose, and said with forced perkiness, "Hey! You wanna play a game?"

I made a face. "What kind of game?"

"A game where…" she hiccuped in the effort not to cry. "Where I ask questions and you answer them. And maybe… I'll answer your questions. When I'm drunk enough." She paused. "You can have some, too, if you want."

I heard the clink of the bottle against the door, a peace offering. I shook my head, realized she couldn't see that, and whispered coarsely, "No thanks. Can't get drunk."

"Oh, right," Yelena snorted a little, another swish of a drink. "That's lame. Because you're a super soldier, right? Must be nice. Alright, first question." She didn't even wait to confirm if I actually wanted to "play" or not. "If Captain America was your father, then how is it you were trained by the Winter Soldier?"

Ah, she caught that. I knew my lying would've never passed a Widow's muster. But easy enough to answer. I didn't care anymore. Too shaken up, too angry. The truth wasn't wrong, anyways. "Because HYDRA kidnapped me. Next question."

"HYDRA?" Yelena ruminated on that. "Alright, fine. So then tell me how that works. Captain America has been under ice until what, three, four years ago? When did he have time to go be making children, eh?"

I grit my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut. "What does it matter to you?"

"Because you lied when you told Alexei that," Yelena said, dragging out the word. "I don't know if you said it to get him off your back, or because you knew it would make him the most upset — but he believes it. Mostly. Not as much as he wishes you were his own. Because I wasn't good enough," She added in a mumble.

I didn't know what to say to that. Was this really about me lying, or about Alexei's diverted attention. "I'm sorry. He does seem really… fond of you," I didn't really know what the right word to use for this situation. Alexei wasn't actually her father, but clearly Yelena felt otherwise.

"You know he was the only man who ever felt like that for me?" Yelena demanded. "He dressed up as Santa Claus, knowing we'd be up past midnight, sneaking out to watch him stumble through the door. Made a whole show of it! He didn't have to do that, you know. Didn't have to teach us how to ride bikes. Or sing songs. And our mother she," Yelena choked down a sob. "She used to kiss our cuts and bruises. She taught us about fireflies and b-bio — biolumni — bio—"

"Bio-luminescence?"

"Yes, that's it!" Yelena said, her words slurring slightly. The vodka finally seemed to be hitting. "God, she was so cool. And Natasha she — she was the coolest. Did you know her hair used to be blue?"

That was such a startling fact that I almost forgot my panic attack entirely. "...Wait, really?"

"Yeah!" Yelena laughed despite herself. "And she could kick so much ass. I wanted to grow up to be just like her…"

Her words drifted, and I relaxed slightly; Yelena had lost track of her "game", of her original line of questioning entirely. It wasn't about me or the Winter Soldier anymore.

At length, I said, "You know. I think Antonia is going to need a new family after this."

"Oh?" Yelena seemed to have been jolted from a reverie. "Oh, yeah. I guess she won't have anyone left after we kill Dreykov. Alexei won't let anything happen. That big… idiot."

I rested my head against the wall of the closet, taking in a deep breath as what felt like the roughest wave seemed to have finally passed. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Hm? No. No I guess not," Yelena sighed, perhaps a little reluctantly. "Antonia's just… a girl. She's not a widow or a super soldier. She's just…" she paused to consider. "I can't say normal. But definitely fucked up. She'll fit right in." she said forlornly.

Another length of silence. "He called her Tonya. I didn't realize he'd known her for that long. You know what they called me, for a nickname?"

My silence was answer enough. Yelena snorted under her breath. "Lenka. I hated it. That is a name for babies. Natalia goes by Natasha and no one blinks and eye, but you call me Lenka and I'm the laughingstock of all Russia. Absolute joke."

"I think maybe you've had enough vodka," was all I had to say to that.

Yelena grumbled under her breath. "You're probably right."

With that, she grunted and got to her feet. I heard the thunk of the bottle placed on a table, then the following noise of her falling back to the floor. "Hey, is there anything cute in that closet?"

I blinked, baffled. Looked up, squinting in the darkness. "Not really. I think there's another one of Alexei's old costumes."

"Really?" Yelena giggled. "You should put it on."

"What?"

"Yes, do it!" Her giggles started to sound like crackles, then sobs again. She was definitely drunk, and not a happy drunk. "Ah, fuck it. Never mind. I look fucking awful, you don't want to come out and see this."

I reached up and fingered the cloth. The thick-woven canvas, dyed red. It wasn't the same armored jumpsuit as the one Alexei was currently wearing. Perhaps another, lighter design. I doubted it would fit me even if I summoned the strength to get up again.

I was about to ask Yelena something else when the door opened again. This time, Yelena's voice was less than welcoming. Cold and dripping with ice. "I came in here to be alone."

The heavy foot and distinct scent lent itself to Alexei. He was quiet — a sudden change from the gregarious, boisterous, obnoxious personality I'd come to know. "Okay, okay. We just… we just sit, hm?"

The creak of the mattress. I expected Yelena to snap at him, but she didn't. Maybe because she knew I was here and didn't want to let on, or maybe because she was too tired or… who could say. She said nothing else. And Alexei gave no indication he knew I was here.

"Did, ah, didn't that girl, Mia…" He said after a moment, and I could hear some shifting around as he moved. "Didn't she come in here?"

"Oh, you mean your long lost daughter?" Yelena asked, her voice as unforgiving as the crack of a whip. Nothing but contempt. "No, she's not here. Just little ol' me. The one you didn't want."

I listened intently, suddenly feeling as though I were intruding on a moment.

Alexei clucked his tongue. "Tsk, come now, Yelena. Don't say that. You were always my little girl. My little Lenka."

Suddenly I understood what Yelena meant by the way that sounded. At least in the very specific, very sonorous way Alexei pronounced it. I had to stifle a sudden snort. Yelena, perhaps hearing me, very suddenly kicked the heel of her foot on the wooden floor. "No! Don't you 'little Lenka' me! You come this way, just to ask me about her!"

"I came to see that you were alright," Alexei protested, and perhaps receiving a particular expression at that, relented, "I know you aren't. But — I want no eavesdroppers, eh? I heard you talking earlier."

"I was talking to no one," Yelena grumbled, her tone muffled by a pout.

"Just the mirror? Your reflection?"

"Who else?" Yelena asked. "Have to remind myself that I still care about me. Even if I've been replaced in everyone else's eyes. You have a new daughter. Natasha has a new little sister. None of you, not a single one of you, ever came looking for me. None of you came back for me. You just… moved on!"

Alexei was silent for a long moment. "Yelena. I was in prison."

She sniffled. "Well, they didn't tell me that. They put me back into the Red Room, and I never saw you again. And then Natasha runs away. Then Melina defects to Dreykov for… for some reason. And then I was all alone."

"I never stopped thinking about you, Yelena," Alexei insisted. "You and Natasha. The good days we had —"

"You called it a stupid mission!" Yelena shot back, and she was definitely crying now. "Beneath you! Beneath the… the stupid Red Guardian! Who cares!"

"I care!"

"Liar," Yelena said, her voice wrung out by grief and vodka. "Just get out!"

"But —"

"Get out!"

The floor creaked as Alexei stood. Steps towards the door. Then stopped.

"I can't remember… If I cried…" Alexei began in English, in a strange sort of growl, like he had a headache, or was thinking very hard. The words were surprising, and for a moment I didn't understand what he was trying to say, how it responded to Yelena. "When I read about his widowed bride…!"

And then it hit me. I recognized those words.

Of all the things I expected him to say, Miss American Pie wasn't that.

"Something touched me deep inside," Alexei continued, in a rough approximation of the song rhythm. "The day the music died…"

I heard a strange sort of sound, half sniffle and half laugh, from Yelena. A reluctant, bittersweet sound, almost entertained.

"And they were singing," Alexei's voice, rough and deep, even as he attempted to soften it, trying to lift Yelena up, to join him. "Bye, bye, Miss American Pie…"

Then after a moment, she did, following the lyrics in her own faint, lilting tone, just a little broken.

And so they sang.

The familiar lyrics washed over me, in different accents, a little off-key, in a strange home I didn't know — but I knew every word. Mouthing along, just conscious enough not to interfere. To drift into another memory, familiar, like this one. A girl and her father, sitting around a fire, telling stories and sharing songs. Longing for something that had been so brief, it might never have been real.

So I just closed my eyes and listened.