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Chapter Text

Her chest stutters with each gasp for air, blood gushing out and pooling around her with each sharp exhale. Her hand falls away from the wound, bloodied and red, as she checks the condition she was in. 

This is it. She failed. 

Of all the things the Red Room did, this is what kills her. Surrounded by the bodies of poor archeologists that were just trying to do their job as Yelena was tasked with finding a relic that is said to have the formula to influence minds. 

All it took was one badly aimed knife that took her here. 

Staring up at the moon peering through a crack in the old tomb, Yelena slowly drags herself upright toward the steps at the foot of a statue. She uses all of the energy she has left, peering out of the massacre she left in her wake. 

Perhaps… perhaps this was for the best. 

She peers down at the stab wound that was weeping blood faster than her body could replenish it. It had hit one of her vital organs, of that Yelena was sure. She was going to die here. Alone and cold with no one to care to find her body. 

She tilts her head back to rest against the cold stone behind her, focusing on dragging air into her lungs. Her eyes start to droop, she’s so very tired but she’s also scared. She’s scared of dying. 

“You’re not ready to die yet.” 

The voice that spoke is deep and echoes through the large tomb, causing her head to jerk up. She had killed everybody, she made sure of that. Her order was to leave no witnesses behind and if she left even one then she was a failure as well. Her eyes flicker across the room, searching for the source of the voice. 

“You’re not ready yet. You haven’t even lived.” The voice continues steadily. A gust of wind flutters and Yelena is left staring up at a figure at least nine feet tall, dressed in robes and a cape with a floating bird skull for a head. 

“No…” Yelena whispers, unsure if she had well and truly finally lost her mind. Maybe this was the Red Room’s way of ensuring that she was tortured before she died. 

“I feel the pain inside of you…” The voice continues on as the creature looms over her, tilting its head to the side. 

“Who… are you?” Yelena felt stupid talking to what was probably a dying hallucination. But somewhere deep inside of her, she was scared. She didn’t want to die and she certainly didn’t want to die alone. 

“I am the god Khonshu…” The figure responds, inclining its head in greeting. “I am in search of a warrior.”

“I’m not a warrior.” Yelena whispers but the figure continues on like she hadn’t spoken. 

“To be my hands, my eyes, my vengeance. To be my final word against the evil-doers. To bind your very being to me and eradicate only the worst. Those who deserve it. Do you want death… or do you want life?” The figure pauses to wait for her response.

Of course she wants life. She wants to live. But she can’t-- she’s not a warrior. “I’m not good.” Yelena whispers, her mouth dry with a metallic tang. “I have killed many who do not deserve it… little girls… children…” Her chest feels like it has a weight on it, slowly caving it in. It’s getting hard to breathe. 

“But you want to be. You want to be free, to lose the binds that tether you to that awful place, to truly live. You wish to be good,” The figure gets closer to her and she tries to lean away from it. “You are but a child with so much life ahead of you. Your journey does not need to end here. Tell me… do you want death… or do you want life?” It repeats its question. 

“I…” Death scared her. She wants so badly everything that it was describing. “I want to live…” She admits. 

“Then in exchange for your life, do you swear to protect the travelers of the night, and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?” The figure straightened, the staff they held in their hand glinting in the moonlight. 

Perhaps Yelena had gone crazy. Maybe the Red Room finally broke her down and destroyed her mind. But even if this was a hallucination, it was bringing Yelena the peace and comfort that she needed before she died. 

She looks down at the blood pouring from her stomach, the stream slowly dying out with how fast she was bleeding out, her hand shaking with blood loss. Using the last of her strength, she tilts her head back to peer up at the figure and uses her last breath of air to utter only one word. 

“Yes.” 

Chapter Text

Twenty-year-old Natasha Romanov stood in a row with the other Widows in her group as the madame reads from a clipboard. 

The schedule was always the same. Once a day, right before bed, they’d read the names of those who had died. Whether it was they weren’t good enough, disobeyed orders, or perished on a mission. It was to mock those who may have formed relationships with each other behind the Red Room’s backs. Friendships, love, sisterhood. It didn’t matter. Those who wept for someone dead were punished. 

Natasha listened closely each time, waiting for one name that never showed up. Tonight was no different. There were only three names on the list and the girls were dismissed. 

“Not you, Natalia,” Madame tells her when Natasha turns to leave. Natasha froze, turning around on her foot to face the madame. “You’re wanted by the General.”

Natasha breaks apart from the row of Widows and follows the madame down to the General’s office. The General smiles up at her when he sees her and a pit forms in her stomach. 

“Ah… my dear, dear Natasha,” He stands from his desk, moving around it and toward her until he can reach out to cup her cheek. “I do have a very nice surprise for you.” 

He waves his hand at madame and the woman holds out the clipboard she held under her arm. He holds it up in front of Natasha’s face. “Read it.” He tells her. “Out loud.” 

So Natasha starts to read down the list, her voice failing when she sees the name that madame had failed to read. 

“All of it.” General Dreykov tells her, his voice lowering. 

Natasha swallows hard, gathering her strength as she reads the last name. “Yelena Belova…” Her voice manages to not waver but she can feel the walls closing in on her. 

General Dreykvo grins. “My dear little Yelena… so talented. Such… waste.”

Natasha looks up at him, wondering if this was all just a cruel joke. 

“Would you like to see?” He asked and Natasha’s heart drops into her stomach. He moves his ring over a scanner and a hologram popped up. He swipes through his files until he pulls up a video. 

Natasha watches as the video, taken from what appeared to be a camcorder from an archeologist, details her little sister, not so little Yelena, as she enters with a grace that seems inhuman. Yelena tears them apart, leaving nothing but a bloody mess in her wake. Natasha can’t help the flinch that wracks through her when the blade enters right where her liver would be. 

Yelena finishes them off, blood pooling at her feet as she finally starts to stumble. She falls to her knees, touching her stomach as if she hadn’t even been aware that she was stabbed. Natasha watches as realization settles over Yelena’s face. 

Stabs to the liver were fatal if they weren’t quickly treated. No one was coming for her. 

Nausea churns in Natasha’s stomach, tears stinging her eyes as she watches her little sister accept that she was going to die. 

Yelena eventually drags herself up the few steps to a statue and rests against it. She was so pale under the moonlight peering through a crack. Yelena seems to speak to the air and Natasha wonders if she was hallucinating. 

Realization that she was probably scared, hallucinating something for comfort before she went, struck Natasha like a blow in the chest. 

Natasha watches her sister die. The film cuts off as soon as Yelena goes limp and Natasha is left staring at the last frame of her sister's body sprawled out at the foot of the statue. 

There, standing in the office of General Dreykov, Natasha loses her reason to live. 

Perhaps that’s why she takes the hand offered to her by a man with a bow. 

Years later, Natasha will sit in her room at the Avengers tower and stare down at the only photo she had of Yelena. 

The photo strip had weathered over the years, the white border yellowing slightly. Yelena was her secret, hers to mourn, hers to love. 

Natasha desperately wished that she could have done something different. Something to save her. To get her out. Yelena didn’t deserve to die. 

Natasha still thinks of the little girl she knew, with a toothy grin and cheeks still chubby with baby fat. 

Natasha washed her pillowcase in baby shampoo, trying to recreate how her little sister last smelled. It doesn’t work. Yelena always smelled sweet with a hint of something fruity. Perhaps it was all the candy she snuck. 

She never needed to learn how to mourn someone before. It’s been five years but every day still feels like that day in General Dreykov’s office. 

Natasha buys some of Yelena’s favorite sweets and she eats them late at night after she dreams of that damned video detailing the death of her baby sister. 

She remembers how much Yelena had wanted a dog in Ohio but never got one. Every year on Yelena’s birthday, Natasha buys a red velvet cupcake which was Yelena’s favorite and donates money to the local animal shelter in Yelena’s name. 

Clint picked up on her routine the third year she does it. He doesn’t know who Yelena is or why Natasha has a ritual every year on the same day but he too donates money. They put up the doner’s names on a baby blue paw print that would be taped to the window on display. Every year, Yelena’s name will be displayed. 

Natasha feels guilt and regret. She blames herself for her sister's death. She puts herself at fault. She is wiping the red out of her ledger while her sister didn’t even get a proper burial. 

Yelena Belova died alone at the age of fifteen. 

She is Natasha Romanoff’s dirty little secret. 

Chapter Text

Sixteen-year-old Yelena clicks her tongue against her teeth as she peers through a pair of binoculars. “This is the leader of a human trafficking ring? Looks more like a car salesman.” 

“You should know by now that appearances can be deceiving, child,” Khonshu comments over her shoulder and Yelena pulls her binoculars away to peer up at him. 

“And why do you insist on waiting? We know it’s him. We can get him right now,” Yelena points out with a huff. It’s been only a year since she died in that tomb and had been resurrected by Khonshu with some sort of magic that Yelena doesn’t even pretend to understand. 

“Patience. Too many witnesses,” Khonshu tells her, and Yelena peers back down at him. “We only harm those who deserve it.” He reminds her like he constantly did on every mission she did for him. “No innocents.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yelena murmurs, watching as the man leaves the office building where he worked. “Who’d of thunk that some nerdy computer man sells girls on the side?”

“It is often those we least expect when it comes to evil,” Khonshu replies and Yelena drops her binoculars to look up at him. “You are but a child, yet you had so much death on your hands.”

“You like to remind me of my age at every turn,” Yelena huffs, rifling through her backpack for her last granola bar. “I’m sixteen, not six.” She tells him before peeling the wrapper open and stuffing half of it into her mouth at once. She always looked young for her age, that was why the Red Room liked her so much. She could always pose as someone younger but with much more experience. She’s pretty sure that since Khonshu made her his avatar that she wasn’t really aging very much. 

“Every mortal is a child in comparison to me,” Khonshu rumbles and Yelena sticks her tongue out at him. He lets out a long tired sigh. “If you do not wish to be referred to as a child then finish chewing before doing such childish acts.” 

Yelena shoves the other half into her mouth and digs through her bag for her water bottle, disappointed to find it nearly empty. “Aw fuck.” She can feel Khonshu’s disapproving stare. “I’m thirsty!” 

He sighs. “There should be a fountain across the street.” 

Yelena starts to pack her things up. “I’m gonna go fill it then. You follow Mr. Pretend Cars Salesmen and I get water. Win-win.” 

Khonshu stares at her before he disappears and Yelena grins. 

“This is a very not cool way to die,” Seventeen-year-old Yelena comments as she grits her teeth, tying a tourniquet tight around her thigh. 

“If you’d just summon the suit--” Khonshu starts and Yelena lets out a growl. 

“Shut up!” She snaps at him. She only called ‘the suit’ when she was on death’s door. Wearing it made her feel weird and she worried about learning to rely on it too much. “I’m not dying or dead.” 

“If you perish then I am leaving you waiting to be judged on the scales before bringing you back,” Khonshu threatens and Yelena rolls her eyes, wincing as she tightens the belt. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know, you only threaten me with that every time I get hurt. Yet, each time, you don’t let it happen,” Yelena grins up at him as much as she could with the extreme throbbing in her leg. “I think you like me.” 

She’s pretty sure if Khonshu could roll his eyes then he would. 

“Ha,” Yelena watches as the clock rolls over to the next day, leaning against the wall of the tiny safehouse they had. “I win.”

“Win what?” Khonshu appears, glancing down at her. 

“I am eighteen now. I am no longer a child,” She boasts to him. Never did she think she’d actually make it to eighteen. She thought she’d graduate from the Red Room and finally lose all the pieces of herself. “You’ll have to find something else to call me.” 

Khonshu leans down into her face and Yelena leans back in response, startled at how close he was. Khonshu seemed to be scrutinizing her, tapping her cheek with his staff before straightening. 

“Hrm.” He hums out before he tilts his head to the side. “Happy eighteen birthday child.” He says before he disappears. 

“You get back here!” Yelena jumps up from her bed, wiping at the cheek that the staff had touched. “Hey! Hey! Listen to me, bird-man!”

“What happens when I die?” Nineteen-year-old Yelena questioned, peering up at the night sky as she watches the stars. 

“You already know. Your heart will be judged on the scales,” Khonshu tells her. He was sitting next to her, his head tilted back to look up at the stars with her. 

“Well, what would have happened before if I died at your statue? If I said no?” Yelena can’t help but question curiously. “Would I still be judged at the scales?”

“You’re asking about multiple afterlives,” Khonshu surmises and Yelena shrugs slightly. 

“I guess… some people believe in a heaven and hell. Some think they’re reborn. Where would I have gone if I didn’t believe in anything?” Yelena squints her eyes up at the stars, idly counting them. “Would I simply… cease to be?” 

Khonshu was quiet for a few moments and Yelena drags her eyes away from the stars to look up at him. “I am not one to say that there is a correct answer. Had you died at my alter, I would have ensured that you made it to the scales if you did not believe in anything. Not all souls go to be judged.” 

“So there are different afterlives?” Yelena questioned. “Some think that they see family and stuff when they die. What if they believe in two different things? Will they never see each other again?” 

Khonshu was quiet again and Yelena feels unsettled at the silence. “This is about your sister.” He finally says. 

“I mean… I guess I kinda hoped she wanted to see me. We couldn’t be together here in this life so I just thought… I dunno… nevermind,” Yelena trails off, twisting her head away from Khonshu to peer up at the sky again. 

“I am afraid that taking souls to the scales is as far as I go,” Khonshu tells her, his voice unusually soft. “But I do not doubt that you will see your sister again, for that I am certain, child.” 

A shooting star streaks across the sky and Yelena is hit with a memory of wishing upon them with her big sister as a child. 

Yelena closed her eyes and wished as hard as she could that her big sister was doing okay. 

“One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four,” Yelena taps a staccato rhythm on her knee from where she was curled in a ball against the wall, her eyes rapidly flickering around the room as she tries to catch her breath. Her sheets are still tangled with her legs where she had fallen off of the bed in a hurry to escape the demons that plagued her dreams. “One-two-three-four.” 

“It’s not real.” 

Yelena violently startles at the voice, flinching hard at the appearance of the large looming figure over her. “Khonshu…”

“The men you saw. Those who hurt you. They’re not here.” Khonshu tells her firmly, tapping his staff against the ground in the same staccato pattern. Yelena focuses on the soft thump-thump-thump-thump it makes against the ground. “They’re dead. You killed them.”

“One-two-three-four,” Yelena murmurs under her breath, her eyes focused on the staff held in Khonshu’s hands. It’s the same timing as the ballet songs they used to play in the Red Room. “One-two-three-four.” 

“You are my avatar.” Khonshu tells her and Yelena halts her tapping. “I chose you. If you were truly an unforgivable monster then I’d let your soul be judged.”

“I’m killing people…” Yelena manages to get out, her mouth dry. She swallows hard before adding. “I’m helping.” She knew she was. She was stopping those who hurt others. She killed a few of her own guards from the Red Room with Khonshu's help. She was helping people. Khonshu inclines his head when he sees her doubt.

“That you are, child.” 

Chapter Text

Yelena’s almost twenty the first time she sees her sister since they were ripped apart on an airstrip in Cuba. 

It’s not in person. Rather it’s on a television recounting the news as The Avengers save New York from aliens. 

“Did you know aliens existed?” Yelena asked Khonshu as she watches the televisions on display in the window from where she stopped on the sidewalk. 

“Do you think I know aliens existed?” He retorts and Yelena lets out an eye roll. 

“When did you get so sassy?” She murmurs, watching as her big sister takes down an alien in an instant reply. “I didn’t know she got out… is the Red Room destroyed?” 

Khonshu doesn’t reply so Yelena doesn’t push him, focusing on the television. Her sister found her own way out. If Yelena really wanted to, she could find the address and show up on her sister’s doorstep the next morning. 

“You are thinking of going to her.” Khonshu comments, having gotten good at reading Yelena’s wild and sometimes unpredictable or impulsive thoughts. 

Yelena doesn’t bother to deny it. “Yeah.” She murmurs before shoving her hand into her pocket where she kept the only photograph she had of her sister. “But I won’t.” 

She can’t. Her sister was a superhero now. Saving the world from aliens, part of a team called the Avengers. Yelena was still out here killing people ruthlessly, doing Khonshu’s bidding and letting him guide her where to go and who to kill with the trust that they were as truly awful as he said they were. 

Natasha probably thought she was dead and if she didn’t then Yelena showing up and being a criminal wouldn’t help things. 

She made a deal with Khonshu. She can’t back out of it now. She needed Khonshu and Khonshu needed her. Khonshu kept her alive, looked after her. She owed him everything. 

“But you won’t.” Khonshu echoes, dipping his head down. “That is a wise choice, my child.” 

Yelena stands in front of the television and stares. 

Yelena starts swiping newspapers and magazines that have her sister’s picture in them and tears the picture out. She keeps them in a stash to hold onto and look at. 

When she collects enough, she pins them to the wall of her safe house. When she wakes up at night in a cold sweat, her eyes land on them and she remembers the safety she had felt with her big sister. 

For a while, things were going okay. Yelena did get thrown off of a building and trying to pull the suit to her while falling was a terrifying experience but Yelena made it with only a few broken bones that healed within minutes. 

Her body becomes riddled with bullet holes, stab wounds, gashes from falling debris, and other miscellaneous scars from her adventures. 

She had lived for five years covering her tracks neatly. 

She was bound to slip up eventually. 

“Hmm, yup. I have to say, if I was a serial murderer, I’d live in some crack shack of a house like this,” Clint comments into the earpiece. 

“Focus on your task,” Natasha murmurs and Clint could tell that she was rolling her eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint carefully swings the door open and steps inside to the run-down building. He finds a lot of weapons and maps but it’s what is on the wall of the bedroom that makes him pause. 

“Shit, Nat,” He murmurs, staring at the multiple cut-outs of Natasha Romanoff’s face pinned to the wall. “You know how we thought they were a Widow? I think they know you personally and they’ve got quite a grudge.” 

“A grudge you say?” A Russian accent questioned as a gun pressed against the back of his head. “Put the bow down.” 

Chapter Text

“There’s been a string of murders killing high profile targets for the past five years,” Maria holds out the files for their next mission. Natasha reaches out to take it from her, flipping it open. “We don’t usually get involved in serial killings like this but this one in particular captured our attention.” 

There were some photographs of the dead bodies and their injuries in the file. 

“Notice anything?” Maria asked and Clint frowns. 

“This looks like Nat’s work,” He murmurs before glancing at Natasha. “Before you defected, I mean.” 

He’s right. Natasha can see the violence etched in the way this person killed. They wanted to prolong it and make it hurt. “You think it’s a Widow.” Natasha states, glancing up at Maria. 

“I do.” The commander nods her head. “That’s why I’m putting you two on this. It is odd that the killings were happening before the Red Room was destroyed and continued until after. My guess is maybe a Widow who doesn’t realize that they’re freed or a rogue Widow.” 

Natasha looks down at the files. “No photographs of our mystery killer?” 

“No. Camera footage had either been wiped clean, broken, or covered in some kind of grainy film. Based on how they’ve entered and exited the buildings we’ve estimated that they’re just a smidge taller than you and with a little more muscle.” Maria points out the points covered in the file. “Almost definitely a female.” 

Natasha peers down at the file with a frown. Something about it didn’t feel quite right. 

“There’s an intruder,” Khonshu warns her as Yelena walks up the gravel pathway to her safehouse. 

“Just one?” Yelena murmurs, reaching into her pocket to pull out her gun.

“Just one. He’s not due to die. No killing,” Khonshu tells her and Yelena frowns. “Unless necessary.” He adds on. 

Yelena slips through the door that had been left cracked and followed the sound of a voice to her bedroom. 

“-- I think they know you personally and they’ve got quite a grudge,” The man spoke into what she assumed was an earpiece. 

“A grudge you say?” Yelena pressed the gun against the back of his head. “Put the bow down.” 

The man paused before he slowly set the bow onto the floor and then raised his hands. 

“Turn around,” Yelena demands and the man spins around. She certainly wasn’t expecting Hawkeye, member of the Avengers, in her room. “Who are you?” She demands, ignoring Khonshu’s voice telling her to stay calm.

“Clint Barton. Hawkeye.” He inclines his head. “You’re a Widow.” 

Yelena narrows her eyes at him. “Perhaps. What are you doing here?” She demands. 

Hawkeye glances at the wall she made of images of her sister. “Got a grudge?” 

“Perhaps.” She retorts, moving toward him. “I asked what you were doing here.” 

“I followed along a string of murders with your handiwork written all over them. You kill in a specific way. You make them suffer. Innocents--” Hawkeye starts. 

“None of them were innocent!” Yelena snarls at him, unable to help herself. Hawkeye goes quiet in surprise at her shout. “They were all monsters and are serving a fate worse than death.” 

“He has an earpiece.” Khonshu reminds her and Yelena holds out the hand that wasn’t aiming a gun at him. 

“Earpiece. Now.” She demands. Hawkeye reaches up and pulls the earpiece from his ear and holds it out. “Kneel.”

Yelena smashes it under her boot, briefly glancing at Khonshu to see if Hawkeye had any more weapons or devices on him that she could not see from her position. Hawkeye had knelt, watching her carefully.

Khonshu shakes his head, tapping his staff onto the floor. It makes a noise only Yelena could hear. 

She wasn’t sure what to do with Hawkeye. He could have already called for backup. Her safe house was compromised. She couldn’t kill him…

“Put your hands behind your back,” Yelena demands and Hawkeye slowly moves his hands behind him. Yelena moves toward her bed, keeping the gun trained on him as she snags the handcuffs she slept with from the nightstand. She moves toward him and handcuffed him. She snags one of her shirts that was on the ground and looped it around his eyes, tying it off behind his head to blindfold him. 

While he kneels there, Yelena grabs the bag that she took with her on hits. She started shoving everything she could into it, tearing down her wall of pictures of her sister and stuffing them into the bag also. Finally, she grabbed the back of his shirt. “Stand and move.” She orders, pressing the gun against the back of his head. 

He was easy and compliant, something that Yelena didn’t like. He lets her take her outside where Yelena proceeds to loop his cuffed hands over a tree branch, twisting them until the chains were taut. 

She had no doubt that since he found her then he could get out. She just needed enough time to get away. 

“I’m not gonna kill you,” Yelena finally tells him. “You’re gonna be a good boy and stay here. You’ll count to five hundred before freeing yourself. You come after me again then I cannot guarantee your life.” She warns him, starting to back up. 

“Wait!” Hawkeye calls out. “What is your name? What should I call you?” 

Yelena paused, glancing at Khonshu before peering at Hawkeye. “Call me White Knight.” She tells him before she turns on her foot and flees. 

She was Khonshu’s Moon Knight. But she was also the White Widow that the Red Room made her. 

“White Knight.” Khonshu repeats as Yelena yanks her motorcycle helmet on. “It suits you, child.” 

“Of course it does,” Yelena retorts, revving her bike. 

She doesn’t mention how much his approval meant to her. 

Chapter Text

The woman had crushed Clint’s earpiece under her boot and Natasha had heard nothing from him until he shows up with a pair of handcuffs and a t-shirt in his hands. 

“Tied me to a tree,” Clint grins at her. “She knew that I could get out. But she told me to wait and count and somehow trusted that I’d do it.” 

“And you did it.” Natasha surmised and Clint nods his head. 

“And I did it.” He agrees before holding up the shirt. “But I got this. It probably has DNA of some type on it.” 

Natasha takes the shirt, one that seemed well-loved and worn. Maria was pretty correct in her judgment about measurements because Natasha would fit into the shirt. It had a graphic image of a rams head on the front of it, the horns curled into the skull of the creature. “Interesting choice in attire.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Like, none of her clothes even went together. She was a fashion disaster,” Clint comments. “Remember when you did the same thing when you got out? Maria took you shopping and you were just tossing in things to blend in until Maria stopped you and told you to get what you wanted. And none of your clothes went together really but it was all ‘you’ and we figured out how to make it work.” 

Natasha carefully folds the shirt that had speckles of dirt on it from the tree and riding around in Clint’s grip. The shirt smells… odd. She recognizes the scent but she can’t put her finger on where she recognized it from. She pulls the shirt closer to her face to inhale the scent again. 

“Smell nice?” Clint teased her and Natasha rolls her eyes. 

“Just thought I recognized the scent. What did she look like?” Natasha pulls the shirt away from her face to glance at him. 

“Probably just a smidge smaller than you. Very muscley. Uh, blonde hair braided back very neatly. Hazel-ish eyes? Russian accent,” Clint went on to describe. “She had so many pictures of you up on the wall and… she took them with her. Like they were important. She left behind money and some weapons but she took the pictures of you.” 

Natasha frowns, looking down at the shirt in her grip. 

“Ring a bell?” Clint questions hopefully and Natasha shakes her head. 

Only, she wasn’t exactly being truthful. 

Usually, when people go on the run, they will try to get as far away from their original location as possible, tracked to the other side of the Earth.

Yelena, however, moves two hours away into an apartment building with a lot of witnesses for the time being. Khonshu has to hunch over to linger in the tiny apartment and he gives her a disapproving glance despite his lack of a face as she pins the pictures back onto the wall. 

“Those could have got you caught,” He tells her in a low rumble. “You should have left it.” 

“No.” Yelena stayed away from her sister because she was the avatar of Khonshu. They had an agreement and she was keeping up her side of it. The least he could let her have was pictures of her sister. “They’re mine.” 

Khonshu lets out a deep sigh as Yelena pulls out the only photograph she had of her and her big sister together. There was dried blood tinging the edges of one side of it from where she had died in the temple. The photos themselves were worn and fading from constant use and weathering. 

“I have another mission for you,” Khonshu spoke up and Yelena resists the urge to sigh, flopping back on the bed to cover her face before she sits up.

“Where.” She questioned and Khonshu gives her the details. 

Yelena returns three hours later with blood on her hands that drip down the porcelain sink under bad water pressure as she cleans up. 

She has another nightmare that night. 

The pictures don’t quite help the same anymore. She would much rather have the real thing. 

Chapter Text

Yelena gets into her worst scuffle since she was resurrected. She has to listen to Khonshu nag at her about wearing the suit as she’s bleeding out in a gas station bathroom, her hands shaking too hard to thread a needle to give herself stitches. 

“Put the suit on or I will make you!” Khonshu finally growls at her. Yelena freezes, her shoulders hunching as she eyes him. 

“You w-wouldn’t d-dare,” She manages to get out, her teeth chattering as blood loss holds her hostage. Khonshu had agreed never to force his control over her unless it was a dire situation. That was a firm rule Yelena had put into place, especially after how much the Red Room messed with her head. 

“You dare to challenge me?” He argues but it’s hard to look intimidating in a gas station bathroom. 

“Y-yeah,” Yelena grins up at him, blood staining her teeth as she ties a strip of fabric around her thigh hard to cut off the bleeding wound. “Shit!” 

Khonshu grabs her hand and stops her, his other hand grabbing her face to make her look at him. “Summon the suit.” He growls at her. 

Khonshu doesn’t touch her. Not really. Yelena will joke about cooties but she understood that he never had a real reason to. His touch is firm but it doesn’t hurt. Still, Yelena flinches away from the initial grab, unused to people touching her. “No!” 

“I order you to summon the suit!” He tries, his grip tightening as Yelena slowly slumps forward at the blood loss. 

Yelena could already tell that this was a losing battle. She wouldn’t be able to patch herself up in time. So Yelena squeezed her eyes shut and summons the suit. 

It’s like her tac suits with a white hood and mask. There are plenty of pockets on her uniform and the cape shields her from bullets. 

Yelena feels the tingling sensation across her body where she’s wounded, letting out a soft groan as her skin starts to knit back together. She clenched her jaw, digging her fingers into her knees as muscle and nerves regrow and heal over like new, leaving nothing but a small white line behind. Yelena liked the reminders the scars gave her. 

She hated the suit. She didn’t want to grow reliant on it. She was a Widow. If she grew reliant on the suit and it was taken away from her then she could easily be killed. It was better to have it and not use it than need it and not have it. 

Khonshu lets her go and she slumps back against the wall of the dingy bathroom, grimacing at the red that stained the white suit that would ultimately not be there the next time she summoned it. Behind the mask, tears pool in Yelena’s eyes but not from the pain. She thinks of how many times she’d called the suit to her and how many times she should have died. 

Each time she is in the suit she feels infinitely stronger but at the same time so much younger. She rarely summoned the suit in the company of others, preferring to wear it to heal herself among the carnage that she had caused. She watches her body heal with morbid fascination as she remembers her mom and big sister pressing band-aids to her skinned knees and kissing them to make them better. She longs for that now. 

Twenty years old and still wanting someone to fix her up after she’s been hurt, craving for a kind touch that she cannot earn. 

But she is not alone. She has Khonshu here and while he cannot give her the touch she is looking for, he fixes her up in a way and for now, that is enough. 

It’s selfish of her to want more. 

She was a killer. A murderer. Ruthless and wild. Wanted. 

She was White Knight. 

Still, she misses the days she was just Yelena, little sister to Natasha.

Chapter Text

The first time Yelena met another avatar, she had only been operating as White Knight for a year. She was sixteen, still baby-faced and unsure of her place in the world when she was called forth by the other gods. 

Immediately upon meeting her first avatar, Hathor’s avatar named Yatzil, Yelena is interrogated about her age. Yelena finds herself swarmed by avatars concerned that Khonshu was taking advantage of her and her supposed naivety and innocence. 

Yelena’s overwhelmed. Too many people and too many questions were coming at her all at once. She really doesn’t mean it when she tells everyone to piss off in Russian. 

Okay, so maybe she meant it a little and Khonshu’s low chuckle in her ear tells her that she shouldn’t drop to her knees to beg for forgiveness. 

Yelena may be wild but she is not stupid. These avatars have gods attached to them just as she did. One wrong move and Yelena could end up dead. Still, her foul mouth gets them to back off of her. 

They ask for her story. 

So Yelena, casual as ever as she sticks her hands into her pockets in the picture of nonchalance, tells them. “I died.” 

Khonshu finally tells her to knock off her attitude in much fancier terms and Yelena decides to listen to him. 

The Egyptian gods learn about the Red Room through their avatars, and how Yelena was raised along with her untimely death. Yelena tells them how Khonshu had been looking out for her and protecting her, mainly just to get back at them for being so sure that Khonshu had hurt her in some way. 

Khonshu was nagging and a little bit of an asshole but he kept her safe, and alive, and gave her more freedom than the Red Room ever did, even if he could loosely be called her master. 

“I know you,” Selim, Osiris’s avatar spoke, his voice lower and louder than usual. It doesn’t long for Yelena to realize she was speaking directly to Osiris. “Yelena Belova, deceased at age fifteen, cause of death was puncture to the liver.” 

“Yeah, well,” Yelena gestures to herself. “I got better.” She grins up at him, ignoring the way Khonshu grabs her shoulder to reel her in. 

“Let me speak,” Khonshu tells her. Yelena glances up at him in surprise because he had only taken control of her body twice. The first time he did it, he did it without any warning and Yelena screamed and destroyed the safehouse she was staying at when she had control of her body again, telling Khonshu to never do that without her permission again or she’d chuck herself off the nearest building and make him find a new avatar. Khonshu knew she wasn’t joking so he agreed. 

Yelena nods slightly, readying herself before she feels Khonshu step into her body. It was like wearing a coat in a way, wrapped up in something that wasn’t quite herself. She watches as her hands move and her mouth opens. 

Khonshu tells them how he came about acquiring Yelena. The longer Khonshu monologues in her body, the more Yelena needs him to stop. It’s too much like the Red Room and she needs to feel control immediately. 

Khonshu, connected with her body, abruptly stops and then peels away like a wet layer of clothing, leaving Yelena to stumble forward on unsteady legs as she regains control. She bumps into Tefnut’s avatar, who steadies her with a small frown. 

“Are you alright?” Yatzil questioned and Yelena shakily nods her head. 

She’s vulnerable here in front of them. She’s staring gods in the face, open and exposed as her story is shared. 

They pity her. They think her a child. They do not agree with her age or what Khonshu has her do. 

They do not understand. Not in the way that Khonshu does. 

She can see the looks on their faces. They do not think she will last. 

When Yelena finally leaves, her shaking hands stuffed into her pockets, she glances up at the shadowy figure looming over her. 

The other gods do not understand. 

Khonshu is not her master. She is not his puppet.

Khonshu is her protector. She is his ‘child’. 

She is tied to Khonshu and will kill anyone who tries to take him from her. 

She knows Khonshu will do the same. 

Chapter Text

“No, the eyes are a little smaller. Like… like this?” Clint holds his fingers up, critiquing the character artist that was drawing what he remembered the girl looking like. 

Natasha watches as the artist sketches in a new set of eyes and proceeds to ask about her hair. 

Natasha tunes him out, still deep in thought over the t-shirt. If the girl was as trained as they said she was then she would have known not to practically give them a piece of her DNA. While no viable hair sample was able to be extracted from the shirt, there was a spot of dried blood that they were able to utilize. 

Unfortunately, it came back that the blood didn’t belong to anybody. That part Natasha did expect. 

But there was something so familiar about the smell of the shirt that Natasha spend days pouring memories of where she thought the smell could have come from. 

“Alright.” The sketch artist finally says, picking the pad of paper up. “What do you think?” They turn it around and Clint gives a firm nod. 

“Yup. That’s her.” He confirms. Natasha turns to look at the drawing and the snarky remark she was going to make gets clogged in her throat. 

Staring back at her is a familiar face, one that she never forgot. It was older and a little more mature, something Natasha expected with age… except it couldn’t be her because she was dead. Natasha saw her death. She watched her bleed out. The footage had been real. 

When Maria sees the picture, her lips tug down in a frown. “She looks young.”

“Ah, yeah. I didn’t really mention that in my reports, now did I?” Clint says sheepishly. “I… wouldn’t put my money on her being over the age of eighteen.” 

Maria whirls around and settles him with a glare. “You didn’t think it pertinent for us to know that our target is a minor?” 

Natasha had heard the voice before the earpiece was crushed. She had been so numbed to the fact that ages didn’t determine danger and didn’t even think about the voice. While it didn’t sound very young, it was still youthful.

Clint gives a slightly helpless shrug. “I dunno!” He waves his hands. “It all happened fast. I memorized what I could but she had a gun trained on my head the whole time she monologued so I was more focused on that than her face.” 

“Just because she’s a child doesn’t make her any less dangerous,” Natasha comments and Clint glanced at her. “Child or not, she’s a Widow. That makes her deadly. You’re lucky to have come out alive nevertheless without a scratch.” 

“Yeah… that’s what I didn’t really understand,” Clint nods his head as he glanced at Maria. “It’s obvious that she’s a Widow, I’ve fought with Natasha enough times to learn her mannerisms of some sort. But these people she’s slaughtering, she claims that they’re not innocent.” 

“Do you think she’s taking hits for money?” Maria suggests, glancing at Natasha. “Get free from the Red Room and don’t know how to do anything else so you put your skills to good use.” 

Natasha nods her head in thought. “That could be it.” But Natasha hasn’t come across many hitmen for hire that she recognized as Widows. In fact, all that she’s come across were talented but definitely not trained as a Widow. She wonders where all the Widows from the Red Room were. 

The Red Room was gone. Natasha burned it down in honor of her sister who never got the chance to escape it and be free. 

“So, let’s say she’s sixteen. Old enough to not cause a fuss and blend in,” Maria holds the sheet of paper with the face on it. “Natasha, where would a sixteen-year-old Widow go if she was taking hits to try and survive?” 

Natasha frowns in thought as she stares at the image. She didn’t realize how long she was staring until Clint nudged her ribs. 

“Do you recognize her?” Clint questioned and Natasha shakes out of her stupor. 

“No. But there were a lot of Widows so it doesn’t matter,” Natasha brushed his question off as she nods her head and starts to put together a game-plan with Maria and Clint. 

Still, she can’t shake the thought that she does know this girl. And if this girl, this child, really was a lost Widow just trying to survive… 

Natasha’s pretty sure Coulson wouldn’t be too angry if she adopted and recruited an agent of her own. 

Chapter Text

There is a first time for everything. 

The first time Yelena died since becoming White Knight, she didn’t even realize what happened. One moment she was taking her target out and the next she was sprawled on her back on a hard floor, bright fluorescent lightbulbs making her eyes hurt. 

When she reaches her hands up to cradle her aching head, she notices something was very wrong. Her hands are tiny and her limbs are short. Upon looking down at herself to check herself over, she realizes that she’s wearing a pink striped shirt and a pink skirt with matching shorts underneath. 

She’s wearing the outfit she had on before she was trafficked to the Red Room. She’s six again and very confused. 

As Yelena takes stock of the room she was in, she climbs to her feet. Her body is uncoordinated, unused to the small proportioned limbs. Taking a step causes her to stumble but she gets right back up.

The room is small and the walls are colored grey. There is only one exit to the room in the form of what appears to be a heavy metal door. 

She reaches up to turn the door handle. The door isn’t locked but it’s heavy and it takes everything in her tiny frame to lug it open and slip through it. 

The hallway is very familiar to Yelena. She doesn’t really remember very much of why she knows it and her mind is telling her that she needs a weapon. It’s not safe here. 

Yelena sticks to the walls as she slips down the hallway until she reaches another door. She pressed her ear against it, listening for anyone on the other side before she grabbed the door handle and pushed. It takes almost everything in her before the door suddenly gives and she tumbles forward into the room. 

She’s outside suddenly. There’s dirt beneath her knees and hands, and she can feel the warmth of the sun shining down on her back. 

“No, no. Blow, like this.” 

Yelena jerks at the sound of a young voice, spinning around until she comes face to face with a playset, one that she knows very well. She’s spent hours upon hours here in the backyard of her home in Ohio.

“I’m trying.” 

The second voice is very young and small, laced with frustration. Yelena moves closer to the voices until she comes face to face with a very young blue-haired Natasha and an even tinier Yelena sitting at the top. They don’t appear to notice her as they continue to talk. 

“Come on. Just like I do it, see?” Young Natasha tells young Yelena before pursing her lips and blowing out. A whistle pierces the air. 

Yelena remembers this. This was the day that Natasha taught her how to whistle. 

Young Yelena does her best to mimic her big sister, pursing her lips and blowing out. She doesn’t manage to make anything but an exhale of air. “I can’t do it!” She finally cries out in frustration. 

“You can,” Young Natasha tells her firmly. 

“No, I can’t!” Young Yelena huffs. “Why do I gotta learn this anyway?” 

“Because then we can talk to each other in a super secret code,” Young Natasha replies, her voice lowering as if telling a secret. “Mom and dad won’t even know what we’re talking about. And we can find each other because whistling is easier than yelling when you need to stay quiet. Think of all the games of hide and seek we could play when you learn.” 

“But it’s hard,” Young Yelena complains although her face betrays how curious she was about this supposed super secret code. “What kinda code is whistling anyway?” 

“Well, there are long notes and short notes along with high pitches and low pitches,” Young Natasha explains as she then demonstrates what she was talking about. “And we could have one that means… come find me. Like this!” She whistles a short low note followed by a short high note and then a long short note. “And you can reply with one like… I’m here!” She then one high, two low, and then another high one.

“But that’s more than one whistle and I can’t even whistle yet!” Young Yelena points out in disappointment. 

“You can do it. You just need to practice. Here.” Young Natasha grabs young Yelena’s hands and brings them to her face. “Feel my mouth, see how I’m doing it.”

Young Natasha whistles again and young Yelena’s brow furrows in concentration as her hands feel the muscles in young Natasha’s face move, doing her best to mimic her. 

Something akin to a whistle leaves young Yelena’s lips when she tries it and she immediately lets go of her sister. “I did it! Did you hear that Nattie, I whistled!” 

Young Natasha beams at her, clasping her shoulders excitedly. “Try it again!” 

Yelena looks away as a door appears once again. She barely manages to get the door open before she’s bumping into a large figure with grey skin. Before she can even look up, she’s suddenly gone. 

She’s back in the motel her safe house was set up in, sitting up as she gasps for air. She doesn’t remember how she got here but she’s wearing the suit and her body aches in a way that it hasn’t for a long time. 

“You’re awake.” Khonshu comments and Yelena’s head jerks to see him looming over in the corner. “How do you feel?” 

Yelena’s brow draws together in confusion as she pulls the mask from her face. “Sore… what happened?”

“You died.” Khonshu says plainly. “Bullet to the back of the head.”

That certainly explained the headache. Yelena reaches up, her fingers ghosting over the back of her head where she can feel a slight divot beneath the hair. “How did I get back here?” 

“I brought you here,” Khonshu replies, moving toward her. 

Yelena wonders if the memory she had was just something her mind conjured up to comfort her. “I had a dream…”

“Twas not a dream,” Khonshu tells her firmly, his voice low and unusually quiet. “That was simply where your mind took you to wait until your soul could be judged. Your own personal afterlife, I suppose is the simplest way to put it.” 

She died and went to some sort of afterlife this time. “How did I come back?” She looks out the window to see that it was night, the moon high in the sky as the stars shone brightly. 

“I took your soul once the moon was high and guided you back,” Khonshu says simply, as if the face he just resurrected Yelena from death was no big deal to him. “You should have worn the suit.” 

Yelena doesn’t let him change her mind about the suit. “You always told me you were gonna wait to pull me back from getting my soul weighed… I didn’t think you were serious.” She admits. Khonshu said a lot of weird things at times and she learned to take everything he said with a grain of salt. 

“You are my avatar,” Khonshu merely replies before changing the subject. “You must rest up. Your body is still healing from it’s post-mortem state.” 

Yelena sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down to undo the laces on her shoes as Khonshu sinks into the shadows and disappears. She toes her boots off and flops back onto her bed as she stares up at the popcorn ceiling. 

She swallows hard before she whistles two notes.

Her heart clenches as she waits for a reply that doesn’t come.

Chapter Text

Each time Yelena died, it was always different despite how it always started the same. 

She’d wake up in that same small grey room, her body much smaller than it should be. She’d leave the room and head down the hall and go into the room at the end. 

At least, that’s what she did the first three times. Each time it was a different fond memory of her and her sister, and each time Khonshu would direct her out when her body was safe and mostly healed. The fourth time, she was nearly seventeen.

This time Yelena was far too curious and turned the other way instead. As she walks down the hallway, she starts to notice the wallpaper darken and the floor rot away. She has the urge to turn around and sprint to the door at the very end but she forces herself to move on. 

The door at the end of this very long hall is made of metal with a small window in it that reminded Yelena of the door that locked the girls in at night. Yelena reaches up and grasped the door handle before struggling to turn it. 

It opens much easier than the other door did. Yelena peers inside but all she can see is darkness. She frowns, glancing back to look at the other door at the very far end of the hallway before what feels like a hand grabs the back of her shirt and yanks her through the doorway. 

She lands on something hard, it felt like concrete, and it was pitch black. Yelena hated the dark because she could never see what was lurking there. In the far distance, she could just make out a cracked door, light spilling into the dark room and creating a patch of white onto the dark concrete. 

Yelena turns back and tries to open the door from where she came but it’s locked from the other side and she can’t get it open.

So Yelena climbs to her feet and starts to make her way to the door. She wraps her arms around herself in the cold dark room as her bare feet hit the cool concrete with each step she took. She finds herself idly wishing for her blankie, something she hadn’t seen since she was five before Alexei took it away from her. Blankie had protected her, gone with her everywhere, and was a shield from the outside world when Yelena needed it. 

Yelena hears something scurry behind her, sending a jolt of fear through her tiny frame. She tries to pick up the pace, her eyes focused on the door in front of her. She swears that she hears General Dreykov croon at her that awful nickname he had given her. 

She reaches the door, bursting through it and slamming it closed behind her. Her heart is hammering in her chest and Yelena gasps for air to try and calm herself down. She shouldn’t be so scared, she can usually control her emotions better than this. 

But the sight that greets her is no less daunting. She’s staring at two rows of beds, each with a girl donned in matching grey pajamas with their left arm raised and handcuffed to the bed. Yelena knows the exact spot where she had laid and belated realized that out of these dozens of girls laying in rows, only a handful survived. 

A guard is moving down the row, stopping at each girl to frisk her for contraband. Yelena’s breath hitched and she tenses up in fear in hopes that he can’t see her just like the other memories. That doesn’t stop the noise of pained whines from the girls as the guard takes delight in poking their bruises and open wounds just to hear them cry. Yelena clasped her hands over her ears, feeling very much like the child that her body was at the moment, trying to drown out the noise. 

She wants Khonshu to hurry up. She can’t stand this. She needs out. 

Yelena stumbles forward down the rows, trying to find the exit. She can’t help but stop in front of the bed that had been hers, staring at herself peer up at the ceiling with a glazed expression in her eyes having already been frisked by the guard. 

A hand grabs her shoulder and Yelena immediately lashes out, spinning around and trying to squirm out of the grip that was on her arm. 

“Woah--” The figure with grey skin spoke and Yelena goes still at the feminine voice. “It’s alright, little one. I’m not going to hurt you.” The hand disappears and Yelena is left looking up at a woman with the head of a hippo. The woman cranes her head to take in the sight of the room, a frown marring her face at the scene. “This is a terrible sight and I’m so sorry that this happened to you, little one.” 

Yelena forgets how her voice works. The woman, at least Yelena is pretty sure it’s a woman, towers over her tiny frame. The woman, as if sensing her anxiousness, crouches down to get onto her level. 

“My name is Tawaret. I am the god of women and children,” She sends what Yelena supposes is a friendly smile her way. She holds out her hand for Yelena to shake but drops it when the girl doesn’t take it. “I’m here to guide you.” 

“My name is Yelena Belova,” Yelena’s voice comes out shakier than she means for it to. “I am the avatar of Khonshu.”

Recognition flickers across Tawaret’s face before an easier grin settles on her face. “Ah! You’re his newest one…” The smile wanes. “You’re… a little bit little.” She comments slowly. 

“I’m sixteen,” Yelena replies, confused on why the god was here in the first place. “I think…” She tacks on because she didn’t really know her birthday. “Why are you here?” She can’t help but blurt out, slapping a hand over her mouth in horror at the lack of filter that her six-year-old self had. 

Tawaret merely chuckles, gently reaching out to pull Yelena’s hand from her mouth. “I came because you were distressed.” She then peers around her. “I assume you usually pick a happy afterlife. You picked this one this time. Anubis assumed that you had gotten lost and since you are a child, sent me to come to pick you up!” 

“I’m not a child,” Yelena retorts, thinking to all the times that Khonshu would remind her of her age. “I’m sixteen.” 

“Not here you’re not!” Tawaret chirps before she rises to her full stature and offers out her hand. “Let’s get out of these nasty memories, hmm?” 

The White Widow from the Red Room would have never taken a stranger’s hand. She would have killed them before they could even touch her. Yet, here in the body of her six-year-old self, she can’t help but warily take the hand. Tawaret’s hand engulfs hers entirely but the woman doesn’t seem to mind as she hums a merry tune and starts to guide Yelena toward the door that Yelena had originally been heading toward. 

Yelena is taken back to the memory of when she first learned how to whistle and simply stands there with Tawaret until Khonshu opens a door for her to come back. Tawaret lets go of her hand and gives her a bright grin and a wave as she calls out goodbye when Yelena approaches the door. 

Yelena’s back in her safe house, staring up at that damned popcorn ceiling as she sits up. She pulls the mask of her suit off as her eyes case the room until they land on Khonshu in the corner who had been watching over and protecting her body. 

“You were frightened,” Khonshu comments in a quiet rumble, staring at the wall ahead of him as his fingers tap against the staff in his grip. “You were fighting me for control.”

“I met Tawaret…” Yelena croaks out, wincing at her sore throat as she recognizes the feeling of being choked. 

Khonshu glances at her before inclining his head. “I see…” He lets out a hum. Yelena can’t help but stiffen as he crosses the room, reaching out to set a hand onto her chest and make her lay back down. “Sleep.” He commands in a deep rumble. 

Yelena closed her eyes, her body absolutely exhausted, but she can’t help as one thought lingers on her mind. 

This other side of the afterlife, whatever hell it conjured up, didn’t have Natasha in them. 

Yelena felt lonely. 

Chapter Text

The first time that Yelena saw her sister after they were separated from Ohio, she was twenty and was wearing her suit, blood pooling around her as she recovered from the slaughter she was just part of. It was a human trafficking ring and she was at the very top of the hierarchy, a very nice knife having sliced her throat. That wasn’t something Yelena was risking bleeding out for. 

Khonshu had told her that she was getting reckless, taking chances and doing things that would kill her merely because she knew that Khonshu was going to bring her back. Yelena denied it but she thinks that perhaps she was growing too dependent on the afterlife, desperate to be young and innocent again with her protective big sister at her side. 

But when footsteps fall just outside the door, Yelena clambers to her feet, feeling woozy from the loss of blood. Her grip tightens on her gun and she raised her arm just as the person enters. 

Both figures freeze. Yelena wonders if she was hallucinating at the figure in front of her. There is Natalia Romanova or as she was best know as, Natasha Romanoff. 

Yelena almost expects Natasha to say something before she realizes that she’s wearing her suit. She opens her mouth to speak but remembers the harsh severing of her throat moments before. 

She makes a move to bolt. She can’t remove the suit to show her face and she can’t promise that she’s not a threat. 

“Wait--” Natasha says and her voice makes Yelena freeze. “White Knight, stop. I don’t want to fight.”

Yelena paused, the grip on her gun tightening. She barely turned toward Natasha to show that she was listening.

“I know that you’re a Widow,” Natasha starts slowly and Yelena’s breath hitched as she resists the urge to scratch at the skin healing together just under her mask. “It’s okay. The Red Room is gone. You’re free.” 

Yelena frowns, screwing her face up. The Red Room was not gone. She was still taking out active Red Room agents with Khonshu’s help. She shakes her head, her eyes glancing around for Khonshu to see if he could tell her whether Natasha really was there. She takes another step back, tensing up when Natasha stretched her arm out. 

“I’m not lying to you. I’m Natasha Romanoff. Natalia Romanov. The Black Widow,” Natasha holds her hands out as if Yelena was a wounded animal. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk.” 

Yelena briefly looks down at herself, her white suit soaked in blood, some of it being hers. She can’t talk, even if she wanted to. She needs to retreat. She turns and she hears Natasha move closer. 

It’s an instinct drilled in her as her hand flies up to the point the gun at her. Natasha pauses and Yelena’s breath hitched at the thought of just pointing a gun at the woman who had only ever loved her. 

“Easy,” Natasha has her hands outstretched. “It’s alright. I only want to talk. Can you put the weapon down?” 

Yelena swallows hard, feeling her healing throat burn with the movement. She shakes her head, Natasha should know more than anyone that Widows simply don’t put their weapons down. 

“Okay. Then can you lower it please?” Natasha asked and Yelena’s hand shakes before she forces the gun down. “Thank you. We need to get out of here. Will you come with me and hear me out if I promise to let you go after?” 

Natasha’s body language spoke nothing but sincerity. Any other Widow wouldn’t have believed her but this was Yelena’s big sister. Yelena wanted so desperately to trust her. She gives a curt nod and some tension bleeds from Natasha’s shoulders. Natasha steps aside and Yelena slowly moves forward, her boots squishing under the carnage she caused. 

Natasha doesn’t try to touch her but a hand does grab her shoulder and Yelena jumps, spinning and peering up at Khonshu. 

“You have to leave. Now.” He tells her firmly and Yelena sucks in a breath. His grip on her tightens and Yelena can feel his panic as he tries to force his way into her body. 

Yelena fights back. He had promised not to do so without her permission. 

“White Knight?” Natasha pipes up and Yelena jerks to face toward her before she backs away. “Wait, I promise this isn’t a trap--”

Yelena does something that completely compromises her identity but she can’t speak. She wants Natasha to know that this is not what she wants. 

Yelena whistles. Low-high-low. 

Come find me.

Natasha is frozen in place and Yelena takes that opportunity to escape. 

Yelena’s ears barely pick up on the reply. High-low-low-high. 

I’m here. 

Yelena reaches her safehouse and yanks her mask off, slamming it into the sink in the motel as she tugs on her hair in frustration. 

She was so close! Right there! Natasha was right there and wanted to talk! 

“I know you are upset,” Khonshu appears, bent to fit in the bathroom. Yelena turns and shoves at him, tears pooling in her eyes when her hands fall through him. “You need to calm yourself.” 

Yelena spins to face the mirror, inhaling sharply as she quickly gathers her rogue emotions and shoves them into a box at the back of her mind. 

“You--” Yelena croaks out, wincing at the feeling of sharp razorblades dragging along her throat as she tests her freshly healed injury. “My head--” She reaches up to tug at her hair. 

“I apologize for attempting to procure control of your mind,” Khonshu says. “But it was necessary to leave there quickly.”

“Why?” Yelena croaks, letting the suit disappear and starting to unzip her uniform. 

“Where was another avatar in the area. You were not safe,” He says simply and Yelena can pick up the hint of remorse in his tone. She strips her uniform off, dumping the bloodied remains in the sink as she steps into the shower. 

“You were scared,” Yelena comments, focusing on the hot water running over her skin tinged pink from blood. Never had she felt the fear creeping through the bond she held with Khonshu. 

Khonshu doesn’t reply. When Yelena finishes her shower, he’s gone from the room. She changes into a new set of clothes, pausing at the new pink scar running across her throat. She tilts her head up and inspects the scar. 

It should have killed her. But it didn’t. 

Yelena looks down at some scars she had before she got the suit. 

Natasha said she took down the Red Room. 

Yelena knew that wasn’t true. What made Natasha think so? 

Yelena got out. If Natasha thought that the Red Room was dismantled then why didn’t she try to reach out? 

Yelena’s eyes peer over to her stack of photographs she had clipped out of magazines and newspapers that showed her big sister’s face. She flops back on the motel bed, peering up at the peeling ceiling.

She turns to curl up on the bed and tries not to think of how she was probably just tossed away again.

Her life is lonely. The only person she can rely on is a god that saved her life and protects her in exchange for her killing for him. 

Still, he’s the closest thing that she could call family. 

That doesn’t mean a piece of her heart is empty and aching for her big sister. 

Chapter Text

The next time Yelena dies, it’s different. There had been no severe injury. She didn’t bleed out. She wasn’t shot in the head or choked to death. 

One moment she’s falling asleep in her motel room she had set up in a week after her confrontation with Natasha, and the next thing she knows, she’s screaming, sitting up in bed as blood dripping from her nose as her vision blurs. Her head is pounding so hard that she feels like her brain is going to break her skull.

“Khonshu--” She chokes out as she falls forward out of bed onto her hands and knees. It takes a few moments before a hand tugs her up, tilting her head up. 

“Breathe, my child,” Khonshu instructs firmly. “You will be fine.” 

Yelena shakes her head. Something was wrong. Her head felt wrong. “What did you do to my head--?” She chokes out. She hadn’t felt him try to control her. 

Khonshu is staring at her sharply before he shakes his head. “Relax, my child. You’re dying.” 

Yelena stiffened, sucking a breath in and coughing at the blood clot that she swallows. “What?” 

“Give in. I will look after your body,” Khonshu instructs, gently lowering her down to lay on her side on the floor. 

Never before had Yelena heard him tell her to just die. “What about the suit?” She chokes out. 

Khonshu shakes his head. “This is not a matter the suit will fix. Rest your eyes.” 

It’s getting harder to breathe. Yelena doesn’t want to suffer and push through this if she’s just going to die anyway. 

Yelena draws in a few last ragged breaths before she closed her eyes. She trusted Khonshu. 

She wakes up in that same grey room but it’s different. She’s not wearing that pink outfit she wore on that last day in Ohio but her limbs are still short and uncoordinated. 

She’s wearing the Red Room issued pajamas that every girl wore. A light charcoal grey with no markings or patterns on it. 

The door is just as hard to open but the hallway feels cold. Yelena wraps her arms around herself, shivering as she moves toward the usual door she took. 

Only, when she tries the handle, it doesn’t open. It’s locked. 

Yelena tries it again. And again. The door isn’t opening and she doesn't have anything to break the lock. 

Yelena turns around and slowly steps away from the locked door. She doesn’t know how Khonshu is supposed to reach her if she can’t step through the doorway into somewhere to give him an easy way to give her an exit. 

Yelena’s eyes fall onto the other door at the far end of the hallway. The last time she had gone through it, she felt scared. Khonshu said that she was fighting him for control. 

But she has no other choice. She makes her way down the hallway and the door swings open easily. She swallows hard before stepping into the dark room and letting the door swing shut behind her. 

She shuffles toward the door that would take her into a bad memory. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad this time? 

“My precious little weapon.” 

Yelena stiffens at the voice crooned over her shoulder. She tries to brush it off, picking up pace as she darts toward the door. 

“The perfect specimen. So… ruthless… bloodthirsty.” 

Something touches her bare ankle and Yelena yelps, stumbling in an attempt to shake it off of her. Her uncoordinated body loses balance and she tumbles to the ground, unable to find anything around her in the shadows that had grabbed her. 

“You are the best child assassin there is. I know you will make me proud, my little White Widow.” 

Yelena’s chest heaves as she searches for the source of the voice that echoes around her. General Dreykov isn’t really here, he can’t be. 

She tries to climb to her feet, stumbling toward the door as quickly as she can. She reaches for the doorknob as her feet touch the small sliver of light the cracked door leaves. 

Something grabs her ankle again, this time yanking her feet out from under her. Yelena screams, twisting to try and fight it off. “No!” Where was Khonshu? What was taking him so long? Can’t he see that she needs help? It was already night when she died, why was it taking so long? 

Yelena reaches out to grab what appears to be a black vine wrapped around her ankle tethering her there. She grabs it with her hands, digging her fingernails into it as she tries to tear it. She bends down, her teeth sinking into it as she attempts to break it. It breaks and she quickly skitters to her feet and bursts through the door, tumbling into a locker room. 

Yelena wraps her arms around herself at the memory, trying to calm her ragged breathing as she moves forward on unsteady legs.

She can hear one of the showers running and the sound of soft sobbing, another voice shushing them gently. Yelena approached the single shower stall with the water running, the shower curtains having been confiscated after too many Widows were comforting each other despite it being forbidden. 

There in the shower is a young Yelena and an older Widow. The older Widow is gently running a washcloth over the blood staining young Yelena’s legs as she sobs her eyes out. 

“Shh,” The Widow tells young Yelena quietly and young Yelena clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. “The first time is the hardest.” She was crouching in front of young Yelena, peering up at her. “They will do it again. It will hurt again. You must let them. Learn.” 

“No--” Young Yelena whimpers out. “I can’t--” 

“You must,” The Widow tells her firmly, dropping the washcloth in preference of grasping young Yelena’s face. “Do not let them break you. The broken do not survive here.” Her thumbs gently wipe away the water droplets on young Yelena’s cheeks, not caring that some were tears. The Widow had red hair, albeit much darker than Natasha’s once was, but at that moment she very much reminded Yelena of the person who had once cared about her. 

Young Yelena takes a few deep breaths before she nods, pulling herself together. The Widow gives her a small nod. “Good.” She praised, pulling her hands away from young Yelena’s face. 

The locker room door opened and Yelena jumps, spinning around as she expects a guard to come in here just like she remembered. 

“Tawaret!” She gasps out at the sight of the goddess, darting forward toward the woman she had not seen since she opened the door on the far end of the hallway three years ago. 

“Little one,” Tawaret greets her with a smile that quickly becomes a frown. “What happened? Why choose this path again?”

Yelena tries to explain but she’s so shaken up from her time spent here that it comes out a jumbled mess as her six-year-old brain tries to piece together an explanation. Just as Yelena manages to tell Tawaret about her ankle, the goddess sharply jerks her head to look down at Yelena’s legs. 

The tall and imposing goddess kneels down, her large hand gently grasping Yelena’s tiny leg as she softly pushes up the cuff of the grey pajama bottoms. Yelena is staring down at a red mark around her ankle and Tawaret is staring at it with wide eyes. 

“You should not have been able to get hurt,” Tawaret says quietly, her thumb brushing over the mark. “Come. Let us get out of here.” 

Only when Tawaret attempts to redirect them into a good memory, it doesn’t work. Tawaret frowns, trying repeatedly to open a door before she huffs, scratches her head, and peers down at Yelena. 

“Well, that only leaves one option, I suppose,” She said softly and this time when she waves her hand, a new door appears. It opens to reveal what appears to be a wooden deck and a vast starry sky. “Come.”

Yelena doesn’t know where Tawaret is taking her but she steps out through the door. She’s on some large boat now, sailing through what appears to be sand. 

“Welcome to the Duat,” Tawaret says. “Don’t get too close to the sides, you’ll fall overboard.”

“Duat.” Yelena repeats quietly. “This is where my heart is weighed, yes?” 

Tawaret nods, gesturing to where the set of golden scales was set up. “Right here.” She says, picking up a feather and placing it onto one scale. “Would you like to see?” 

Curiosity burns at Yelena. “Will it kill me for good if I do?” She asked quietly. 

“No. You’re Khonshu’s avatar,” Tawaret sounds so sure of it that Yelena finds herself nodding before she can help herself. Tawaret grins and Yelena lets out a gasp as the goddess’s hand sinks into her chest. There’s a tugging sensation before a white heart is in Tawaret’s grip. Yelena runs her hand over her unmarred chest. She’s unable to feel a beating under her fingers but she never considered checking for one in the first place. 

Tawaret gently sets Yelena’s heart onto the empty scale and Yelena watches the scales rock from side to side, bobbing up and down like a ship sailing the waters. 

Up and down, up and down, her side of the scale rocks but it doesn’t seem to slow. 

“How long does this take?” Yelena can’t help but blurt, her eyes shifting to gaze up at Tawaret. 

“It should have already settled,” Tawaret sounded puzzled. 

“Is… is there something wrong with me?” Yelena questioned, looking back at the gently rocking scale. 

“Your heart is not ready to be weighed yet,” Tawaret finally says, picking it up from the scales. She tucks it back into Yelena’s chest with the same grace that she had taken it. “It has been a while since I have seen you. At least for you it has. Time is rather meaningless to me. You are… how old now?” 

“Twenty,” Yelena says. “Almost four years.” She rubs her hand over her chest. “Why am I six each time I die?” 

“I don’t know. Why do you pick to be six?” Tawaret turns the question back on her and Yelena startles. 

“I’m not picking,” She denies. “Why would I want to be six?” 

“Well, I suppose it might have been when you felt safe. Usually, those who die do not return to a younger age, but I have seen, on occasion, some who are a little younger. Usually eighteen, I think. When they felt safe and free.” Tawaret rubs her chin in thought. “Never seen a little one like you before, though.” 

“So I’m wrong?” Yelena questioned and Tawaret quickly shakes her head. 

“You’re you. Yelena Belova. Avatar of Khonsu. Immortal. Badass,” Tawaret says before she perks up. “I got myself an avatar of my own recently! You should meet her, I think you’d get along well.” 

“Maybe,” Yelena knows that Khonshu hates when she interacts with other avatars or Gods. “Where can I find her in an emergency?” 

Tawaret beams at her and tells Yelena where to locate her avatar in case of an emergency. Tawaret then rambles on and on about how much of a strong and badass woman her avatar was and gushed over how it was her first and Tawaret made a lovely suit just for her to protect her just as Khonshu did with Yelena. 

Before Yelena gets to learn the avatar’s name, a door behind them opens and Yelena jumps, spinning around to look at it. 

“Ooh! Seems like Khonshu is calling you back,” Tawaret says, ushering Yelena toward the door. “Try to be more careful in the future! Oh, and if you need me while you’re dead again, just call and I’ll be there!” 

Yelena doesn’t even manage to say goodbye before Tawaret is pushing her through the door. Yelena falls through and ends up jerking awake. 

She doesn’t recognize where she is. This isn’t the motel room she fell asleep in last night. She’s standing in front of a mirror in what looks like a gas station bathroom, her bag secure over her shoulder. She’s in a new change of clothes, the blood having been cleared away from her face. Her mouth tastes like bitter coffee and her whole body is aching and tired. 

“Khonshu?” Yelena whispers in confusion. “Where am I?” 

“Safe.” Khonshu replies and Yelena’s eyes peer into the mirror behind her to see Khonshu hovering over her shoulder. “The avatar had followed you.” 

“Who’s avatar? Why did I die? I wasn’t hurt!” Yelena protests in confusion, peering up at the god. Khonshu is uncharacteristically quiet. He usually indulged in Yelena's questions, even if they seemed stupid or silly to him.

“His name is Apep.” Khonshu finally spoke, his voice low. “He has recently taken on his first avatar to bring destruction and chaos. He has two gods he would like to vanquish. Ra, god of the sun…” He peers down at Yelena. “And me. God of the moon."

“And… that’s why I had to leave Natasha so quickly the other day?” Yelena pieces together, trying to think of if she saw someone who could have been the avatar before looking up at him. “How did I die?” 

“They say you are most vulnerable when you dream. An easy pathway into the mind,” Khonshu tells her. “He was in your head. You are my avatar. A thing in the way of his mission.” 

“He tried to kill me through my dreams?” Yelena repeats to make sure that she understood. 

“No.” Khonshu shakes his head as he straightens up. “He succeeded.” 

With that, Khonshu vanishes and leaves Yelena alone in the dingy bathroom. Yelena swallows hard, tugging her shirt down before she unlocks the door and steps out into the cool night, immediately trying to pinpoint her location to find a safe place to go.

She must have been dead for a while because no longer was she in Russia. 

She was in New York.

Chapter Text

Natasha’s not upset about White Knight slipping out from under her fingers. 

She’s not upset about the blood on her shoes or the scent of copper lingering against her skin. 

She’s not even upset that the Widow didn’t appear to believe her. 

She’s upset that a Widow dared to use the whistle she had once taught her little sister. 

The noise she dreamed about echoed through the silence, the only noise White Knight had made before disappearing. 

Come find me. 

It’s a taunt. An insult. 

Natasha’s baby sister is dead. How dare this Widow use that against her? 

Natasha had been so startled upon hearing it that she froze. She couldn’t move until the Widow was gone and all Natasha can hear is the soft laughter of her baby sister in the back of her head. 

The Widow seemed unstable. She was confused and jerked at something as though she had been burned, her masked head tilting up to look for something only she could see. Natasha tried to look, to find someone or something that would make her dare to look away. Widows didn’t get distracted.

Some part of Natasha hopes that it’s Yelena under that mask. That her little sister who would be twenty now, all grown up, is just surviving. 

White Knight was an assassin. They went after some SHIELD agents for some unspecified reason and Natasha just wants a few moments to talk to them. To hear their voice. To see their face. 

She needs to know. She has to. 

Natasha has a violent night terror the night she arrives back at SHIELD after failing the mission. She hadn’t had one so bad in a long time and she ends up outside of Maria Hill’s room in the early hours of the morning. 

Maria opens the door in her pajamas with a gun in her hand, staring down at Natasha with confusion. 

“I need a day off.” Natasha tells her in simple terms. 

Maria frowns, her eyes drinking in the sight of Natasha in her pajamas and unkempt hair, skin still shiny with sweat from her violent night terror. “You’re not going after the Widow alone.” She tells her in no uncertain terms. 

“I’m not.” Natasha agrees easily and Maria eyes her once again before nodding. 

“Very well.” Maria says. “I’ll put the paperwork through. Is that all?” 

Natasha nods her head, spinning on her heel as the sound of Maria’s door shutting echoes behind her. She gets dressed and leaves base on her motorbike.

When Natasha got defected, she spent a lot of time exercising the freedom that she had been denied for so long. She did a lot of exploring and ended up finding a small place with cherry blossom trees that bloomed in the spring.

She had carved into the trunk N+Y. Nobody but her would know what it meant. It was a place she went when she was missing Yelena. She went on birthdays, Christmas, New Years, after bad nightmares, and just when she needed to grieve in general. 

Natasha runs her fingers over the letters carved into the trunk and lets out a sigh, resting her head onto the bark. 

If, by some weird chance, the Widow really was Yelena Belova…

Why did she leave? 

Natasha only wants to help. She needs time. She needs to set up a perfect meeting where they can just talk. 

White Knight was a ruthless assassin and Natasha had witnessed the aftermath of the carnage they caused, blood sprayed on walls and furniture, the Widow dripping in blood and guts in what was once a white uniform. If she really was Yelena then Natasha worried terribly for whatever caused her sister to become so violent and ruthless.

Natasha’s fingers trace the letters carved into the bark as she hums Yelena’s favorite song. 

She doesn’t want to think of possibilities right now. 

Chapter Text

Yelena’s unsettled by how long Khonshu had been quiet for. He hadn’t shown back up after leaving her in the gas station bathroom and when a few days pass, Yelena starts to worry. 

Khonshu liked to keep her distracted by work or scope out safer places that Yelena could stay. It wasn’t safe to stay in one place for too long.

Yelena still doesn’t know why she’s in New York. Khonshu obviously brought her here for a reason but Yelena doesn’t know what that is. She thought about leaving but even when she calls for Khonshu in the safety of a motel room, he doesn’t show himself. 

It’s unsettling… it feels like she’s alone all over again. It makes her feel like she was crazy this whole time and that Khonshu was never real. 

She even cuts her finger open on purpose just to summon the suit and watch it heal. Seeing the skin slowly knit back together reminds her that it’s real. Things are real. She died five years ago and hasn’t been alone since then. 

Until now. 

Afraid of being vulnerable, especially while Khonshu is gone, Yelena refuses to sleep. She stays awake on coffee, energy drinks, and stimulants. Khonshu must have been making her drink coffee as well when he had control because her body doesn’t take long to adjust. 

Yelena has no jobs. She has nothing to focus on, no people to hunt down, no target to kill. She can only sharpen her knives and clean her guns so many times before they’re in pristine condition and she can’t do anything else. 

She starts to wonder if Khonshu would show up if she gets herself killed. Would he protect her body like he swore he would? 

Yelena ends up walking around the streets at night because she doesn’t want to fall asleep. She ends up at a pharmacy in the middle of the night, looking through their magazines for pictures of Natasha. She hears the sliding doors open and the small bell go off as someone enters the pharmacy but she’s too invested reading about the latest adventures with the Avengers. 

Someone steps up next to her, pulling the daily newspaper off of the shelf and opening it up. Yelena’s eyes flicker to peer at them, taking in the sight of a woman dressed in sweatpants and a graphic tee shirt of some obscure band. The woman’s hair is slightly frizzy, sticking up out of her bun in a few places. She doesn’t appear to have any weapons on hand so Yelena goes back to her reading. 

The woman suddenly lets out a loud sigh and Yelena peers back up at her. The woman glances at her and then gestures at something on the newspaper. “Can you believe this?” She asked Yelena. Yelena’s gaze flickers to the newspaper only to see a picture of herself being held against the page by the woman’s thumb. The picture was grainy, taken off of a security camera in what appears to be an airport. Yelena’s pretty sure that it’s Khonshu in the body at the time, not her. Yelena glances up at the woman, her guard up. 

It’s not the first time an assassin has gone after her for her deeds and it’s probably not the last. “Perhaps.” She replies evenly, closing the magazine and setting it back onto the shelf. The woman gives her a smile that has too many teeth as she looks at Yelena. 

“How about we step outside?” The woman suggests, her gaze flickering to look at the innocent teenager bored out of his mind as he works the cash register late at night. “We wouldn’t need any unnecessary… purchases.”

Yelena gestures toward the sliding doors. “After you.” She says and the woman lets out a laugh, resting her hand over her heart. “Well, aren’t you a sweetie.” 

The woman exits the sliding glass doors and Yelena’s fingers find purchase on a knife she has in her pocket. The woman is waiting for her just outside the pharmacy and she throws an arm around Yelena’s shoulders as if they were old friends. Yelena is ready to react, to kill the woman but the woman’s hands are empty and she has no weapons on her that Yelena can see. The woman tugs Yelena forward to start walking so Yelena does, getting away from the tired people shuffling in and out of the pharmacy for quick snacks or medicine. 

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” The woman states with a smile, patting Yelena’s chest. “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Oh?” Yelena comments, swatting at the woman’s hand. 

“They say you never age,” The woman replies, leading Yelena around to the back of the pharmacy where the dumpsters sit. “Still just the baby that died at fifteen.” 

The mention of her death has Yelena’s hackles raised. She ensures that her face shows nothing. “Is that so?” She questioned. 

“They also say you never die,” The woman continues, the friendly grip she had around Yelena’s shoulders turning into her fisting Yelena’s shirt to gain leverage. “How silly is that?” 

Yelena quickly pulls and flicks open her knife but she’s not quick enough. A gauntlet appears on the woman’s wrist, two sharp ends sticking out as she sinks it just barely into Yelena’s chest. Yelena stabs her arm and the woman withdraws her hand, the gauntlet disappearing as if it was never there at all. Yelena didn't even see it coming.

Yelena can’t summon the suit. She can’t confirm this woman’s guesses. She needs to get to safety, regroup, and think this out. 

“Let’s see if you survive this,” The woman tells her, a sweet smile on her face as Yelena’s heart speeds up. “They say the saw-scaled viper venom is enough to kill two people even with their weakest and least potent bite. Enough to kill six with their most powerful. Would you like to guess how much venom I gave you?” 

Then the pain kicks in and Yelena lets out a gasp as she raised a hand to her chest. The wound is pouring so much more blood than it should be, splattering at her feet and soaking the pavement under her feet. 

“This was fun,” The woman says, not at all appearing bothered about the jagged knife wound Yelena had left on her body. “Let’s do it again sometime.” 

Yelena’s legs crumple under her as the woman turns to leave. Yelena doubts that she has an hour to even get medical attention. She summons the suit but even still she can feel that she’s losing blood much too rapidly. She’s nowhere near the safehouse she had set up. She could always hide it out in the pharmacy bathroom, hoping that nothing happens to her body or that Khonshu comes back. 

“Khonshu?” Yelena whispers under her mask, her suit steadily soaking red. “Khonshu, I need you.” She tries again. Khonshu was always there, why wasn’t he now?

She starts to try and pull herself up onto shaking legs, gripping the side of the dumpster for support. She peers around, her eyes landing on a street sign. 

Yelena had read the map to know where she was going and she knows that there is a street near here. She suddenly realized that she had a safe place to go, or, what she hoped was a safe place. 

Yelena pulls her mask off because she can’t be seen wandering around in a full suit, especially here in New York. Her white combat suit isn’t too suspicious, even if the blood is. 

Yelena stumbles down the street, feeling very cold and lethargic as she goes. She keeps asking for Khonshu and even tries praying for him. She finds the apartment building easily enough. The wounds have stopped bleeding mostly but the venom is coursing through her veins as she takes the elevator up to the sixth floor. 

Yelena counts doors as she goes, swaying as the hallway seems to tilt. She hopes that she has the right address as she reaches up and knocks on the door of apartment 616. 

When nobody answers, Yelena knocks again, leaning against the wall as she coughs, the feeling of blood crawling up the back of her throat makes her feel nauseous. Her third time knocking has the door swinging open and a gun pointed in her face. 

“Who are you?” The woman holding the gun demands. “And what do you want?” 

Yelena swallows hard, her tongue feeling numb as she spoke. “Tawaret--” She gets out and the woman goes on guard immediately, the gun trained onto Yelena’s head. “Please-- I need Tawaret.” 

“Who are you?” The woman demands again and Yelena is slumping forward, unable to keep herself upright on her own anymore. She leans against the wall as she tries to speak. 

“Avatar.” She gasps out. “Please, Tawaret.” She repeats. 

The woman must decide that she’s not much of a threat because she grabs the front of Yelena’s suit and yanks her inside the apartment before Yelena bled out on her doorstep. 

Yelena tumbles forward when the woman lets her go, falling to the floor, and decides that it’s too much energy to get up. 

“Tawaret--” Yelena croaks out again. The woman shushed her, her head turned to the side to glance at something and Yelena tries to keep her eyes open. 

Finally, the woman looks at Yelena sharply. “Yelena Belova?” She questioned and Yelena nodded, her breathing labored. “Avatar of Khonshu?” Yelena nods again, her strength waning. “What is it that you need?” 

“Protect my body,” Yelena begs, feeling lost and abandoned that Khonshu wasn’t there. 

The woman moves forward, crouching down and Yelena tries not to flinch when the woman tugs open her suit to try and see the wound. 

“No--” Yelena grabbed the woman’s wrist weakly. “Leave it. I’ll be okay…” 

“You’re not bleeding out on my floor,” The woman states and Yelena has no strength in her left to fight as the woman scoops her up into her arms and carries her toward the couch. “My name is Layla El-Faouly, avatar of Tawaret, and I swear to protect your body.” She states. 

With that, Yelena finally lets herself give in to the darkness. 

Chapter Text

Layla rolls over in bed with a groan, glancing at the clock on her nightstand when someone knocks on her door. It’s only one in the morning. Layla pulls the pillow over her head to muffle the noise in hopes that it’s only her drunk neighbor mistaking her apartment for his. He usually wandered off after figuring out his keys didn’t fit. 

This time, the knocking didn’t stop. There was a second round of knocks, this time a little more louder. It’s the third set of knocks, sounding slightly frantic, that has Layla climbing out of bed and grabbing the gun she kept in her nightstand. She approached the door, swinging it open and the sight that greets her nearly makes her falter. 

It’s a teenager wearing some sort of white combat uniform soaked with blood. The teenager sways, unbothered by the gun Layla levels at her head. “Who are you? What do you want?” Layla demands. 

“Tawaret--” The teenager slurs out. Layla is immediately on guard at the mention of her goddess. “Please-- I need Tawaret.” 

“Who are you?” Layla still doesn’t have an answer. The teenager sways, leaning against the wall to keep herself upright. Layla doesn’t know how coherent she is. 

“Avatar.” The teenager manages to get out. Layla isn’t sure if she’s telling her that she’s an avatar or if she knew that Layla was one. “Please, Tawaret.” She begs again. 

Layla decides that she can’t be that much of a danger. She’s dripping blood onto her doormat, her hand cradled over her chest. Layla reaches out to grab a fistful of the uniform and yank her in. 

The teenager tumbles when Layla lets go and just lays on the ground, her glazed eyes staring at the ceiling. 

“Tawaret--” Seems to be the only thing the teenager can get out. 

“Tawaret? Layla calls out quietly, peering over at the plush couch the goddess liked to appear on. 

“You called?” Tawaret appears, the excited grin she wore immediately dropping when she sees the teenager. “Oh dear.” 

“Do you know them?” Layla gestures to the kid slowly dying on her floor. “She knows you.” 

“Yelena Belova,” Tawaret frowns, inspecting the girl. “She’s the avatar of Khonshu.” 

Layla wasn’t expecting that. She turns to look at the girl. “Is it safe for me to help?” Tawaret nods so Layla spins on her heel to face the teenager. “What is it you need?”

“Protect my body,” The teenager slurs, her eyelids fluttering as she tries to keep coherent. Layla moves forward, crouching next to her and reaching out to see if she could determine where the blood was coming from. The teenager grabs her wrist with a bloodied hand to stop her. 

“No--” She rasps out. “Leave it. I’ll be okay…” She’s fading fast. 

“You’re not bleeding out on my floor,” Layla says. Blood will warp the wood and Layla is not losing her deposit on the apartment. She carefully hauls the teenager up into her arms and carries her over to the couch. Tawaret had moved, her gaze worried as she follows them. “My name is Layla El-Faouly, avatar of Tawaret, and I swear to protect your body.” She promised. 

As soon as the words leave her lips, the teenager finally goes limp against her, and Layla cursed as she struggled under the now dead weight. She sets the teenager onto her couch and pressed two fingers against her throat. The heartbeat was weak and thready but it was there. 

“How did she find me?” Layla questioned, glancing toward her patron. “How did she know?” 

Tawaret gives a small sheepish smile. “I told her.” She says, waving her hand to stop the anger that Layla was going to hurl her way. “I told her it was only for emergencies, I was very clear on that!” 

And yeah, Layla supposes that bleeding out is a bit of an emergency. “Where is her patron?” 

The smile on Tawaret’s lips drops slightly. “I don’t know.” She sounded confused. 

Layla shakes her head, pulling away from the teenager and inspecting the bloodied handprint wrapped around her wrist. “Start from the beginning. Who is she?” 

“Yelena Belova, avatar of Khonshu for the past five years,” Tawaret starts and Layla already has to stop her. 

“Wait, wait, wait--” She points to the unconscious teenager on her couch. “How old was she when she became his avatar?” 

“Fifteen,” Tawaret replies and Layla blinks in surprise, turning her gaze to the teenager-- or what she thought was a teenager. 

“You’re fucking with me. That’s a kid, that’s not a twenty-year-old,” Layla jabs a finger at the kid. “She’s still got baby fat on her cheeks!” 

It’s a bit of an exaggeration, the kid is short and thin but well-muscled. Still, her face is youthful despite the various horrifying scars littering her that Layla can see follow down beneath the collar of her uniform. 

“Yelena Belova died at the age of fifteen,” Tawaret continues as if Layla hadn’t yelled at her. “On the steps of Khonshu’s shrine. He offered her a second chance.” 

“What is he making her do?” Layla demands, peering up at her patron. Gods and goddesses all had specific tasks assigned to their avatars. Some were as simple as converting others into following their patronage while others went to changing political power from the inside. Tawaret is quiet and Layla already hates the answer. “Well?” 

“She is his warrior. She protects the travelers of the night and gets rid of those who have caused them harm,” Tawaret says softly. 

“He turned her into a fucking assassin?” Layla demands, gesturing to the girl on the couch. “And you knew about it?” 

“What Khonshu does with his avatar--” Tawaret starts out but Layla shakes her head. 

“I thought you were supposed to be the goddess of women and children, to protect them!” Layla accused. She hits a sore spot because Tawaret draws herself up. 

“That is enough, Layla,” She says firmly and Layla falls quiet. Tawaret didn’t raise her voice often but when she did then Layla knew she pushed too far. Tawaret then lets out a sigh. “I cannot save every woman and child, much to my dissatisfaction. I cannot interfere with humankind, you know that.” Tawaret reaches out to set a hand on Layla’s shoulder. “That’s why I have you, Layla. You help me save those women and children. You do what I cannot.” 

Layla’s shoulders slump. “Does the fact she was a child at the start not bother you?” Layla remembers being fifteen, still awkward and gangly as she follows her father from one archeological dig site to the next. “Humans have a thing where children cannot consent to contracts made.”

Tawaret’s gaze falls onto the girl on the couch. “Would you prefer she died?” 

Layla startles slightly at the inquiry. “What kind of question is that?” She demands. 

“Khonshu… he is a complicated god. He is known to be unruly and distrustworthy. But, he is not malicious,” Tawaret shakes her head before looking at Layla. “He would not hurt her.” 

“Is this not hurting her?” Layla gestures to the bloodied mess of what was once a pristine white uniform. “Did she always have those scars or are they new? Maybe he doesn’t lay a hand on her but she is getting hurt.” 

“Layla,” Tawaret says firmly and Layla clamps her mouth shut again. “You do not understand. That is alright. Khonshu has entrusted me to look after her when dies before he resurrects her.” 

Layla doesn’t know if Tawaret realizes how horrifying that sentence is. “How many times has she died?” Layla demands. She can only imagine the trauma of dying once only to come back to life. How cruel would it be to be in so much pain as you die all for it to be for nothing when you come back and know you will die again.

Tawaret doesn’t reply and Layla paces the length of her apartment in disbelief. Tawaret lets her think, disappearing until Layla called for her again. 

Layla ends up sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch to watch the rise and fall of the girl’s chest to make sure that she didn’t stop breathing. She eventually grows bored of that and picks up a nearby book to read. She had been so engrossed that when the girl shifted, she jumped. 

“Ngh,” Yelena groans out softly. “Khonshu--” She mumbles out. Her hand clumsily reaches up toward her chest and Layla reaches out to grab her hand before she can poke at the wound. 

Layla’s hand is twisted as the girl is awake within moments of the touch. Layla comes face to face with wild eyes that grip her wrist so tight that she’ll have bruises. Layla is surprised that she isn’t doubled over from the pain when she catches a glimpse of the partially unzipped suit to see that despite all the drying blood, there was no wound that Layla had briefly seen. 

Layla remembers it. It was two large puncture wounds that looked lethal but she had followed Yelena’s instructions and left it be. There’s nothing there but two pink scars of freshly healed skin. “You’re healed.” Layla can’t help but state dumbly. 

Yelena blinks at her a few times in confusion. “Tawaret?” She questioned, her voice soft. She squints at Layla before she questioned hesitantly. “Lana?” 

“Layla,” She corrects, pulling her wrist out of Yelena’s hold. “Glad you’re not dead.” She stands up, trying not to wince as Yelena glances around her messy apartment. “I would have cleaned up if I knew you existed and were going to bleed out on my doorstep.” 

“Is Tawaret here?” Yelena glances around as if she would be able to see the big goddess within the mess of books and drawings littered around the apartment. 

“She can be,” Layla folds her arms. “What happened?” She thinks she deserves some answers. 

Yelena looks down at her lap, her fingers brushing over her chest and Layla is reminded that she’s covered in congealed blood that was starting to dry. Layla sighs and decides that answers can wait. 

“Nevermind. Come on, I’ll give you some clothes and you can shower,” She gestures for Yelena to follow her and after a brief moment of hesitation, she does. 

Layla shows Yelena the bathroom along with everything she needs before she heads to her own room to find something that the shorter girl could wear. 

Layla finds a tunic that would work and heads toward the bathroom with a pair of pajama pants as well. She opens the door, intending on slipping the clothes onto the sink. She didn’t realize that Yelena wasn't in the shower yet. She was no longer in a white combat suit but rather a tank top and leggings, the suit nowhere in sight. Layla had frozen at the messy mass of scars littered along Yelena’s back and arms that she could see. And that was what wasn’t hidden by the tank top. “Uh--” She pipes up before she startled Yelena. “Here.” She sets the clothes on the counter.

Yelena doesn’t say anything but Layla leaves the bathroom anyway. She stands in the living room and calls forth her patron. “Tawaret.” 

The goddess appears after a few moments and Layla opens her mouth but she doesn’t know what to say. Perhaps it’s the fact that Yelena looks like a child that bothers her more than anything. “She’s been hurt.” She decides on saying. 

Tawaret sends a somber look her way. “She was part of a human trafficking ring as a child.” She says and Layla swallows down the bitter taste in her mouth. “That’s how she died.” 

“I thought you said she died on Khonshu’s shrine?” Layla managed to get out. 

“She did,” Tawaret inclines her head. “But that is not my story to tell.” She glances over at the bathroom where the sound of running water is heard. “You’d like her, I think.” 

Layla holds up her wrist where Yelena had grabbed her before raising an eyebrow. The immediate defensive move made sense but she’d rather not be friends with someone who would stab her in the back. 

While the conversation dies down, Tawaret doesn’t leave this time, walking around the living room to read the spines of the new books Layla had purchased recently. 

Eventually, the shower shuts off and a few minutes later the girl exits the bathroom, her skin slightly tinged pink and flushed from the heat of the water. She looks even smaller in the slightly big tunic and Layla turns her head away. 

“Is… is Tawaret here?” Yelena repeats her question from earlier. Tawaret waves at Yelena even though she cannot see it. 

“She can be,” Layla repeats her answer from earlier. “I want to know what happened.” 

“Layla!” Tawaret scolds but Layla ignores her, folding her arms. 

“I’m… still working that out.” Yelena’s brow is furrowed with thought. “That’s why I need to talk to her.” 

Layla resists the urge to sigh. “She’s here.” She confirms. She’s not thrilled at playing a game of telephone between the two but it would have to suffice for now. 

“Where?” Yelena asked and Layla rolls her eyes but points to where the goddess is standing. 

Yelena turns to the empty space and to Layla’s surprise, she lets out a deep bow. “Thank you for sharing with me the sanctity that is your avatar. She has saved my life tonight.” Yelena then straightens slightly. “I do have a favor to ask of you.” 

“Of course,” Tawaret nods her head and Layla resists the urge to sigh because whatever Tawaret agrees is likely going to fall onto her shoulders to complete. Layla relays the answer to Yelena. 

“Have you seen Khonshu?” Yelena questioned and Tawaret paused, the pleased smile falling from her face. 

“Is he not with you?” Tawaret inquired and Layla passes the message on. 

“I can’t get in touch with him. I tried calling for him, I prayed, he didn’t show up, not even…” Yelena looks down at her chest, raising a hand to run over where she had been impaled. 

“I have not seen him,” Tawaret sounded troubled and Layla tries to keep her voice even as she tells Yelena so. 

Layla swears that Yelena is a child in that moment because her head ducks down, her eyes soften and her fists clench in an attempt to keep from showing emotion. Layla likens her to a lost child, alone and frightened. 

“Do you know how I can get into contact with him?” Yelena peers up at Tawaret. “He’s okay, right? I mean, I can still summon the suit--” Yelena says earnestly. “I haven’t died because he wasn’t answering and I wasn’t sure…” Yelena trailed off as if she suddenly thought of something before she turns on her foot to face Layla. Then, just like she did with Tawaret, she bowed deeply. “My apologies for showing up so late. I had nowhere else to go or anyone to guard my body while I healed. Thank you, Layla El-Faouly.”

Layla wonders just how much Khonshu had rubbed off on Yelena based on the odd phrasing. She doesn’t know if it’s because she herself is an avatar or if the kid was so deprived of human contact that she just picked up on whatever her god said. “It’s fine…” Layla isn’t quite sure how she’s supposed to respond. 

“I thank you for entrusting your life with me and will trust you to do the same,” Tawaret suddenly spoke up and Layla glanced at her. Tawaret gestured toward Yelena and Layla suddenly realizes that this must be some formal thing and she was making herself look like an idiot. Tawaret had taught her a lot about Egyptian customs but she was still learning.

“I thank you for entrusting your life with me and will trust you to do the same,” Layla repeats, although she wouldn’t dare place her life into the hands of a child, even if she really was supposed to be twenty. 

Yelena relaxes slightly before she clears her throat. “I was impaled by a weapon I had never seen before.” She addresses Tawaret again. Layla listens as Yelena describes a gauntlet with two golden ends sticking out that had stabbed her and injected venom into her system. 

Yelena then goes on to tell Tawaret of how Khonshu disappeared in the first place. Layla can see a deeply troubled look on the usually happy goddess’s face as Yelena describes being killed in her dreams by another god, being chased by an avatar, and how she suspected that the woman who just tried to kill her was the exact avatar she was on the run from. 

Tawaret faces Layla. “May I borrow your body for a second?” She asked and Layla doesn’t really feel like she can deny because this kid needed some serious help that she cannot give. Layla nods, shivering at the feeling of Tawaret taking over her body. She feels like she’s sitting in the passenger seat of the car, watching through her own eyes. 

“It hasn’t been long since we last saw each other, little one,” Tawaret spoke and Yelena immediately recognized the shift in Layla’s body language. 

“Not so little out here,” Yelena says, and Tawaret chuckles. “I don’t know what I have to do.” 

That gets Tawaret to turn serious again. “You need to call a meeting with the Council of Gods.” 

Yelena sputters. “How the fuck am I supposed to do that if I don’t even have a god?” Yelena waves her hand. “The last time I was there, they all thought Khonshu was either going to get me killed or dump me like a use--” Yelena descends into another language, ranting on and on as she starts to pace the room, getting riled up. 

“Yelena,” Tawaret finally interrupts. “I will help you.” 

Yelena goes silent and looks over at Tawaret. “How? I am not your avatar.” 

“Layla can call a meeting for you,” Tawaret says and Layla hates being volunteered for things she didn’t want to do, especially when it meant appearing in front of what she assumes is a ton of gods. 

“It’s not necessary,” Yelena looks away. “I’ll handle it myself. I don’t need to involve her.” 

“Yelena, a god is missing,” Tawaret’s tone is serious and Yelena shrinks in on herself. “ Your god is missing.”

Yelena swallows hard, looking away. “He left.” Yelena says, her voice quiet. 

Tawaret moves forward, cupping Yelena’s face with Layla’s hands. “There is no need to fret. We will find him and bring him home.” She promised. Yelena’s jaw clenched to keep unshed tears at bay. “He did not abandon you, Yelena.”

Yelena pulls away and reaches up to furiously scrub her face on the sleeve of the tunic to get rid of any evidence of tears in her eyes. “I know that.” She says although her tone falters, betraying her true thoughts. “I want Layla to say it though.” 

“Say what?” Tawaret tilts her head to the side. 

“That she will call a meeting,” Yelena says, staring into Layla’s eyes. “You volunteered her for something and I am not making her do it unless she agrees. She may deny me and I will leave in search of an answer elsewhere.” 

Tawaret smiles at Yelena before she leaves Layla’s body and Layla stumbles for a moment as she regains control. Yelena glances away while Layla gets her bearings. While Yelena’s stance was guarded, Layla can see the hope in the eyes that briefly peer at her from behind a curtain of damp hair that had escaped the ponytail she wore.

God, she felt like an asshole now. “Okay.” She says, reaching up to run a hand through her hair. “I will help you.” 

“Say it,” Yelena demands and while Layla isn’t sure why she has to actually say it, she does. 

“I will help you call a meeting.”

Chapter Text

Yelena stares at the array of books in front of her as Layla paces in the corner, having a conversation with Tawaret that Yelena isn’t privy to. Yelena keeps searching for some sign that Khonshu was there. Tawaret said that he was okay. 

Yelena inspects the Egyptian writing and drawings spread out over the desk, moving closer to look at them. Khonshu had taught her Egyptian and Arabic, along with how to read hieroglyphs. On rough nights when Yelena had night terrors or flashbacks, Khonshu would manipulate moonlight in a ball of light in his hand until hieroglyphs were pictured in front of her. He’d make her read through them, often telling stories of other gods. 

Yelena peers over the hieroglyphs on the page, reaching out to brush her finger over one of them when her hand is suddenly grabbed and Yelena flinches, twisting to peer up at Layla who had moved across the room without her realizing it. 

Yelena had grown so used to Khonshu’s constant presence keeping her safe that her awareness was lacking. 

“Do not touch,” Layla tells Yelena firmly, grabbing the drawing and rolling it up so that Yelena couldn’t read it anymore. 

“Did you draw that?” Yelena questioned, watching Layla start to close all the books that were open so Yelena couldn’t snoop anymore. 

“So what if I did?” Layla inquired, stacking books in a pile until they were relatively neat. 

“Because you did it wrong,” Yelena says and Layla paused, her head turning to look at Yelena. 

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” Layla demands, grabbing the paper and unrolling it again. 

“You’re translating from a derivative of Coptic,” Yelena says, brushing her finger against the same hieroglyph she was looking at earlier. “With a limited knowledge of hieroglyphs.” Yelena starts. “If you--” 

“I didn’t write this,” Layla interrupts and Yelena falls quiet, looking up at her. “This is a piece-- a relic that was found recently. This is an exact replica of it, I took down exactly what I saw.” 

Yelena looks down at the drawing again before looking up at her. “No, it’s not.” There would be no mistakes like that. Khonshu made sure she knew, Yelena could tell the difference. 

Layla lets out a frustrated sigh, reaching up to tug at her hair. 

“If…” Yelena starts and Layla glances at her. “If you want, I will help you track down the real one. In exchange for helping me call a meeting. When Khonshu is back with me, I will help you.” 

Layla stares at her for a few moments before she reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Fine.” She holds a finger out to her right side so Yelena figures Tawaret is there and saying something. “But if we’re going to be partners then I’m making rules.” 

“Rules?” Yelena repeats incredulously. 

“Rules,” Layla nods her head, grasping Yelena’s wrist and tugging her toward the kitchen. Yelena resists the urge to break Layla’s hand for touching her. 

It’s been a long time since Yelena has had kind touch. Khonshu gave her kind touches sometimes but they were few and far between. It would range from grabbing her face in his hands to get her attention when she was delusional on blood loss to a quick yank out of the way of something that would be fatal to save him from having to pilot her body for so long. 

“I am not a child,” Yelena comments because Layla sure seemed to think so. 

“Right,” Layla said, her tone indicating that she very much did not listen. “I will follow you through until you have your patron back and in turn, you will help me hunt down this relic. Is that agreeable?” 

“Are we making a vow?” Yelena questioned. Khonshu wasn’t there to make sure that she didn’t get herself into a contract she couldn’t get out of and vows were tricky when it came to avatars. 

Layla paused for a few moments, turning her head barely to look over her shoulder at what Yelena assumed was Tawaret. “Yeah, kid.” Layla finally said. “We’re making a vow.” 

“Do you even know how to make a vow?” Yelena regarded Layla with suspicion. Layla glances at her, telling Yelena that no, she didn’t. “Does your patron teach you nothing?’ Yelena doesn’t mean to insult Tawaret. 

“Hey!” Layla defended, her voice sharp. “I haven’t been an avatar for as long as you.” 

Yelena regards her. Avatars came in all different ages with different abilities but Khonshu had quickly taught her what she needed to learn. 

“Okay.” Yelena says quietly, a little unsure of how she was supposed to act around other avatars. She knew Tawaret and knew that she wouldn’t be killed for accidentally saying something rude to her avatar unlike some of the other gods. “I can teach you.” 

Layla raised an eyebrow, looking down at her. “Teach me?” She said as if the mere idea of being taught by someone younger than her was foolish. 

“Yes.” Yelena peers over toward where Layla had looked last to look at Tawaret. “If that is alright with your patron.” Some gods got finicky about teaching their avatars themselves while others would hoist the duties onto someone else if they could.

Layla lets out a long sigh. “Tawaret says that Khonshu taught you how.” 

“He did.” Yelena inclines her head. “My god has been kind and has taught me a lot.” Yelena didn’t have much else to do other than learn. So that’s what she did. 

Layla lets out a long sigh. “Okay. Show me how.” She folds her arms, looking down at Yelena like Yelena was about to do some voodoo magic. 

“I need a knife.” She said and Layla blinked at her. “For the vow. I promise not to stab you.” She probably could have phrased it a lot better but Tawaret could tell Layla that she wasn’t messing with her. 

Layla steps away and fetches a small golden dagger, holding it out to Yelena but pulling it away before Yelena could take it. “Be careful.” She warns like Yelena was a clumsy child. 

Yelena huffs and takes the knife from her, turning her palm up toward the sky. “Let me see your hand.” 

“What does a vow entail?” Layla questioned, warily setting her hand into Yelena’s. 

“It’s basically two avatars making a contract. Because we represent our patrons, should one of us break the vow then it falls onto our god’s head,” Yelena says, holding Layla’s hand open before pausing. “It’s like a pinky promise but if you break it then two gods can fight.” 

Yelena gently pressed the blade into Layla’s palm, dragging it across the skin and making a shallow slice. Yelena lets her hand go and then turns her own and does the same. “We will state what we vow and then clasp hands. I will go first.” 

“What if I do it wrong?” Layla peers over her shoulder as if to talk to Tawaret, her hand still outstretched and blood pooling in her palm. 

“We can start with a simple vow that is impossible to mess up then,” Yelena offers and Layla looks at her. “Shall we do that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Layla says before she looks at Yelena. “I vow to let you keep staying here if you promise not to run away for the rest of the night.” 

Yelena scowled at the vow, needing to go out and get supplies and secure her safe house. Still, she sighs. “I vow to not run away if you let me keep on staying here.” She agrees and reaches out. Layla takes her hand, their bloodied palms pressing together. 

Layla waits for a few moments. “Is this it? Is it done?” 

“Were you expecting fireworks?” Yelena questioned, letting go first. She was startled when Layla’s good hand gripped the wrist of Yelena’s bloodied one and started tugging her toward the sink. “Are we not making another vow?” 

“I’m making sure we don’t bleed on my carpet. You’ve bled more than enough for tonight,” Layal says, turning the sink on and sticking Yelena’s hand under the faucet, holding her own over the edge to drip into the basin. “Stay there.” Layla moves toward one of the cabinets, pulling down a first aid kit. 

“I’ll be fine,” Yelena insists, pulling her hand out of the stream of water. “I’ll heal up within moments--” She eyed Layla. “Can you not heal?” 

“Not magically,” Layla says, staring at Yelena’s hand. “How long does it take?” 

“Oh--” Yelena looks down at her hand. “I have to summon the suit.” She paused because she doesn’t think she’s ever summoned the suit in front of someone else before. 

Layla, as if sensing her hesitation, looks away. Yelena summons the suit, pulling the hood off of her face immediately and tugging her glove off to watch the skin heal. Yelena can see Layla peeking before the woman gives in to her curiosity and steps closer. Layla reaches out to grasp Yelena’s wrist and inspects the healing wound with fascination. Yelena glances away, squirming slightly as she remembers the stares that the Red Room doctors used to give her after they would perform experiments on her as well. 

“Holy shit,” Layla breathes out as the skin finally knits closed and there was nothing but a pale pink line left across Yelena’s palm. “Dude, that’s cool.” 

“Does your patron not heal you as well?” Yelena inquired, inspecting Layla. Layla had a few scars on her body but they weren’t healed cleanly like Yelena’s were. 

“Tawaret is busy a lot,” Layla says and Yelena can’t help but bristle at that comment. “She has a lot of things on her plate and unless I’m bleeding out then she won’t step in. I won’t call her away to do so.” 

Yelena suddenly pulls her hand out of Layla’s grip. “Can we make the other vow now or not?” She vanishes the suit, left standing in the borrowed tunic and Layla’s pajama pants. 

“Right,” Layla’s hand is still bleeding. “Do I have to make another cut?” 

“Yeah. Can’t use the same one for multiple vows. Only if it’s one vow including multiple people,” Yelena explained and Layla sighs, wrapping a dishcloth around her injured hand and extends her uninjured one to Yelena. Yelena grasped Layla’s hand and made another cut before mirroring the cut on her own. “I vow to help you locate the relic you seek in exchange for you helping me call a meeting.” 

Layla raised an eyebrow. “I vow to help you find your god in exchange for you helping me locate the relic I seek.” 

Yelena huffs at the changed wording. “Find. I accept your vow to help me locate my god in exchange for me helping you find the relic you seek.” She agrees and grabbed Layla’s hand to shake before dropping Layla’s hand and glaring at her. “You do not change the wording of a vow!” 

Layla tilts her chin up stubbornly. “I’m not going to abandon you to go get yourself killed after you talk with the gods!” She tells Yelena harshly and Yelena can’t help but flinch slightly. “I know that gods can be a bunch of assholes and that you’re likely going to receive no help--”

“I don’t need their help then,” Yelena interrupts Layla, ignoring the tugging at her heart. “He is my god and I vowed to be his warrior. He is my god, my-- my master and I am going to bring him back with or without help.”

Layla stares down at her with a frown. “I wouldn’t call my patron my master.” She said, her tone much softer. 

Yelena swallows hard, looking away from her. It hadn’t meant to slip out. Yelena had been passed from one master to the next all her life, and Khonshu technically was her master in simple terms. “I didn’t mean to say that.” She says, looking down at her bleeding hand. 

Layla lets out a heavy sigh before reaching out to gently grab Yelena’s wrist. Yelena initially flinches before letting Layla take her hand and guide her toward the sink again. Watching the blood run down the drain was the only thing Yelena could focus on. She barely even recognizes Layla standing next to her again until Layla turns the water off and presses a clean dishtowel to Yelena’s hand. 

Layla doesn’t ask if Yelena is going to heal it. She simply pulls the cloth away and starts to patch Yelena’s hand up. 

The act of someone patching her up is so foreign that Yelena is frozen in place, unable to do anything but peer up at Layla to watch the woman work on her hand. 

The last person to take care of her wounds so gently had been her big sister and in the moment, when Yelena was lonelier than she had ever been, she misses her even more.

Chapter Text

The odd thing about White Knight is that suddenly the moves that SHIELD had been so carefully watching stopped. 

Maria had actually sent out troops at the last location of activity to search for a body because all movement stopped abruptly. 

Natasha waited to hear back the results. The agents couldn’t find a body, at least not one they could contribute to White Knight’s brand of ‘justice’. The violent bloodshed of adults abruptly stopped. 

Then cameras pick up sights of White Knight stumbling down the sidewalk in New York, across the world from where White Knight liked to linger. Natasha had watched the footage over and over again, taking in the sight of blood staining their uniform as they stumbled to one building in particular. 

Natasha wondered what brought them to New York. Some part of her hoped that it was because White Knight wanted to reach out and talk to her, that despite White Knight fleeing before, they wanted to either speak or try and eliminate Natasha. 

Either way, Natasha asked Maria to be put on a mission to scout out where White Knight had landed. Maria stares at her, raising an eyebrow and Natasha refuses to elaborate. So Maria simply agrees, telling Natasha that if she was a Widow and Natasha brought her in then she had to either be sedated or in magnetic lock cuffs. Natasha doesn’t argue, accepting a pair of cuffs from Maria, shoos Clint away after insisting she doesn’t need a partner for this, and heads out. 

The apartment complex is rather small. They wanted to stuff as many people into the building as they could and the inside has the faint scent of mildew lingering in the air. Natasha enters and steps into the elevator as she tries to scout out which floor White Knight had sought refuge in. The carpeting in the hallway on the sixth floor has been cleaned recently but there are still dark drops like spilled coffee decorating the floor every few steps. Natasha follows them to one apartment in particular. She reaches out to knock on the door and waits. 

The door swings open a few moments later to reveal a tired-looking woman, her frizzy hair a mess and bags under her eyes. “Can I help you?” She questioned, raking her eyes over Natasha’s form. “What brings an Avenger to my doorstep?” 

“I’m searching for someone,” Natasha replied, unsurprised that she was recognized even in the casual clothes she was undercover in. “Have you had any recent guests come to stay with you?” 

“Just my niece,” The woman replies cooly, gesturing to the couch in the background behind her where Natasha catches a glimpse of something human-shaped bundled under a pile of blankets as the television played. “Unless you’re searching for a thirteen-year-old who was recently suspended because she punched a boy’s nose for trying to look under her skirt then you’re at the wrong apartment.” 

“No,” Natasha replied, searching for any hint of a lie in the woman’s face. 

“Hey, Dina!” The woman turned to call to the figure snuggled in the pile of blankets. “What did you do that caused an Avenger to show up on my doorstep?” 

“Nothin’ Aunt Layla!” The young voice protests from the blankets, a southern drawl in their voice. “Are you messin’ with me?” The figure sits up to reveal that they’re wearing a hoodie with the hood up. Their head turns toward the door but the upper half of their face is cast with shadows. 

Natasha only sees a jaw and lips, too little evidence to go on. “I see. I apologize for the intrusion, please forgive me.” 

The woman’s eyes suddenly snap onto Natasha at the apology and Natasha thinks that she may know more than she realized when her stare is just a little too hard. “It’s fine.” The woman, Layla, assures Natasha. “You have a job to do, I get it. But I highly doubt that thirteen-year-old girls are Avenger-level threats.” 

Natasha refrains from mentioning that children as young as eight could be deadly given the right circumstances. Instead, Natasha gives her a smile. “You’re right. Thank you for your time.” Natasha turns on her foot and the woman goes to close the door. 

Natasha picks up on the young voice asking. “What was that for, Aunt Layla?” 

“They’re searching for someone, kid,” Layla replies as the door shuts and locks. 

Natasha heads back to SHIELD and searches for information on the woman in the apartment. 

Layla El-Faouly, age 28, of Egyptian descent, and the last living member of her family. She had no siblings that Natasha could find but Natasha knew that familial relationships didn’t have to be by blood. Natasha herself was an aunt to two children despite having no biological relationship. 

The only name that Natasha had to go on was Dina. An Arabic-derived name much like Layla. 

Maybe Natasha was thinking too much into it. But something didn’t feel right. If she was wrong then she was digging into the past of an aunt looking after her niece, disturbing whatever calm they had settled into. 

If she was right, however…

Natasha doesn’t recognize Layla as a Widow but she wouldn’t scratch that possibility off the list either. 

Chapter Text

She was right there. Natasha was only a dozen feet away from her and Yelena had to pretend that she didn’t know her.

“An Avenger?” Layla raised her eye at Yelena after shutting and locking the door. “You have the Avengers after you? What did you even do?” 

Yelena glances away, hiding within the borrowed hoodie she had. She hears Layla approach her before the woman sits down on the couch with a sigh. 

“Look at me,” Layla said and Yelena turns to peer up at her. “What mess has Khonshu gotten you into?” 

Yelena straightens up. “He didn’t get me into any mess.” She defends him. “The Avengers are mad at me because I killed some SHIELD agents.” 

Layla blinks in bewilderment. “Why?” She demands. “I thought you were all about vengeance and--”

“I am not killing innocent people!” Yelena jumped up, insulted by the insinuation. “That was vengeance! I was avenging all of those--” Yelena abruptly cuts herself off because she didn’t owe anyone an explanation. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Layla said calmly, eyeing Yelena worriedly. “I only want to understand. Would you like to know what Tawaret has me do?” 

Yelena blinks in confusion at the ready exchange of information. “Okay.” 

“I protect women and children. Sometimes it’s something as simple as placing a phone call to the police or cps. Sometimes she has me step in when it’s in public. Sometimes she has me break up bigger matters. I once broke up a small human trafficking ring,” Layla explained to her. 

“Can we just call a meeting already?” Yelena grumbles, looking away to save herself from having to explain. “You said that we should wait until the morning. I followed your vow and didn’t run away. I slept on your couch. Can we just get this over with?” 

“Not until you eat and find something appropriate to change into,” Layla retorts and Yelena lets out a groan. 

“You’re like Khonshu,” Yelena mumbles, and Layla raised an eyebrow. “Always telling me to take care of myself because he needed me in peak condition.” 

“I don’t need you in peak condition,” Layla replies, standing up from the couch and heading to the kitchen. “I just need you to function like a human being. It’s like you’ve been around gods so long that you forgot that you’re human.” 

Yelena eyes her as she follows Layla to the kitchen. “I know I’m human.” 

“Then act like it,” Layla says, reaching out to yank the hood down from the hoodie she wore. “You can show your face here. Nobody but me is gonna see it.” 

Yelena scowls at her, folding her arms but ultimately does nothing retaliation for the manhandling. 

“Now, are you allergic to anything?” Layla asked her, opening the fridge. 

“No,” Yelena murmurs, watching as Layla starts to pull ingredients out and set them on the counter. 

“Good. Then you can chop,” Layla shoves a knife into Yelena’s hand and steers her right in front of a cutting board. “Dice these please and thank you.” 

Yelena blinks a few times, looking down at the large knife in her hand. Layla had just given her a tool to kill her with and didn’t care. Yelena slowly reaches out to start cutting. 

“No, no, no--” Layla stops Yelena a few minutes later. “You’re doing it wrong. You’re decimating them!” She reaches out to grab Yelena’s hand. “You’re twenty and you’ve never diced an onion?” 

“No.” Yelena glowers at her. “Who would have taught me?”

“Didn’t your parents teach you to cook?” Layla asked and Yelena stiffens at the question. 

“I don’t have parents.” She replies harshly and Layla paused. 

“Oh.” She said quietly before shaking her head. “You have to learn sooner or later. Here, scoot over and watch me.” 

Yelena relinquishes the knife and lets Layla dice the onion. Yelena watches closely and replicates it the best she can when Layla passes the knife back. 

“Wow,” Layla inspects the onion. “You pretty much nailed it on the first try.” 

Yelena had to learn to grasp new concepts quickly. It helped her survive in the Red Room. Those who adapted fast survived. 

Layla then proceeds to show Yelena how to make chicken curry. It takes a while and Yelena’s pretty sure that Layla is just stalling at this point because she doesn’t want to call a meeting. 

Layla makes Yelena a heaping bowl and sets it in front of her, pointing the spoon covered with sauce still gripped in her hand at her. “Eat.” 

Yelena had watched the whole thing be made. She knows that there is nothing nefarious in it and if there was then she could just wear the suit to filter out the poison. Yelena slowly picks up her spoon and takes a bite. She had been living off of essentials with Khonshu for so long that she had forgotten what well-seasoned food tasted like. The curry was spicy and sweet. 

Yelena thinks the last time she had a homemade dish like this was the last night she lived in Ohio. Even then she didn’t get to finish her food. 

“You like it?” Layla questioned, eating her own serving. Yelena slowly nods her head and Layla grins at her. 

“Why did you cook for me?” Yelena asked her and Layla scoffed. 

“Who says I cooked for you? I cooked for me. I just made extra for you,” She says but her refusal to hold eye contact tells Yelena that it was a lie. 

“I don’t understand you,” Yelena admits to her. Layla glances at her in confusion. “You’re nice.” 

“Are you not used to that?” Layla asked her and Yelena glanced away. “You look like you’re a baby, how are people not nice to you!” 

“It is just how it is,” Yelena says quietly. “I am an assassin. I don’t have time for relationships and anyone who tries to be nice cannot be trusted.” 

Layla lets out a huff. “You need to get a life.” 

Yelena bristles slightly at the jab and Layla quickly spoke again before Yelena could protest. “And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Just… your life doesn’t have to revolve around your patron. You’re still young. You can go out into the world and just live a little. Maybe get a hobby.” 

“I don’t need a hobby. Khonshu is all I need,” Yelena doesn’t mention her sister or how she was the Avenger that showed up on Layla’s doorstep mere hours ago. 

“You need actual human beings in your life,” Layla retorts although her voice is soft. “You need friends and family--” 

“Khonshu is all I need!” Yelena repeats, her spoon clattering into her bowl as she drops it. “He has protected me and looked out for me for the past five years! That’s longer than anyone else bothered to stick around!” 

Layla looked startled at the new information. “I’m sorry. I-- I didn’t realize--” 

“Not everybody is perfect. I didn’t do my research on you out of respect to Tawaret but I could easily find out about you. You probably had a perfectly fine childhood with loving parents. I didn’t get that! I learned when I was six that nobody ever cared about me and I learned to be okay with that!” Yelena wasn’t meaning to raise her voice but she was so frustrated and upset. 

“Yelena--” Layla starts but Yelena can’t help but let out a frustrated yell. Layla rounds the kitchen island and wraps her arms around her. Yelena squirms, trying to shove Layla off of her but Layla doesn’t let her go. “It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re here now, you got here. You made it. You survived.” 

Yelena clenched her jaw, tears burning at her eyes as Layla holds her close. She can’t help but give in, sinking into the comfort that Layla had given her. 

Layla didn’t understand. She didn’t need a life outside of Khonshu. Khonshu was enough for her. Khonshu has never hit her. He’s never yelled at her, belittled her, called her names, betrayed her, or abandoned her of his own free will. Khonshu has stayed around longer than anybody else. 

Khonshu was her god. Her family. The only person she’s got. She was his. 

She didn’t need anybody else (even if she would really like her sister)

Chapter Text

Yelena is getting angry now. 

Layla keeps doing everything that she can to push off actually calling a meeting with the gods. Yelena is wasting precious time. 

“That’s it!” Yelena snaps, tugging the borrowed hoodie off of her. “Enough is enough.” 

“Hey--” Layla stands from where she had been translating ‘something important’. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m leaving!” Yelena tells Layla, throwing the hoodie at her. “Since you won’t fucking help me!” 

“I will--” Layla catches the hoodie. “We have a vow--” 

“Well, when Tawaret finds Khonshu then she can fight with him all she wants!” Yelena knows that it’s dangerous to break a vow but Tawaret is a soft and kind goddess. She won’t wage a war with Khonshu over this. 

Khonshu, however, would give Yelena a very long lecture about the importance of vows and how dangerous it was to break them. 

“Hey--” Layla grabs onto Yelena’s shoulder and Yelena doesn’t think twice before turning and smashing her fist against Layla’s jaw. She freezes as Layla stumbles backward, gripping her face as she bumps into her table. A set of books stacked tumbles to the ground. Layla pushes herself toward Yelena but Yelena backs up away from her. Layla reaches out and Yelena half expects Khonsu to yell at her to duck. 

Yelena violently flinches away, bracing herself for a hit that never comes. When Yelena dares to peek at Layla, her hand is hovering out in the air but her face isn’t angry at all, in fact, she looks rathered saddened. Yelena doesn’t really want to leave and disrespect Tawaret by breaking the vow. She’s just frustrated and upset that Layla is stalling for time. 

“I’m sorry.” Layla said quietly, her hand finally dropping and instead reaches up to rub her jaw. 

Yelena curls her fingers into fists and looks down at her shoes. She punched the avatar she had a vow with. She watches Layla before she slowly sinks to her knees in front of her. “I apologize for my transgression. Please forgive me.” It’s not unlike a Red Room apology. Yelena keeps expecting to hear Khonshu’s voice in her ear telling her off for her behavior. But he wasn’t there to guide her and she didn’t know what she was doing. 

“No. This was my fault,” Layla says, shaking her head. “Please stop kneeling.” She says with a soft sigh. “This was my doing.” 

Yelena cannot get up just yet. She’s frustrated that Khonshu isn’t there to help her and that Layla doesn’t know the exact details of the vow she had made. 

“Yelena?” Layla prompts, crouching down next to her. 

“Tell her.” Yelena closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “Tawaret, tell her.” 

Layla paused, stiffening as she turns her head to presumably listen to what Tawaret had to say. “Oh…” Layla breathes out before looking back at Yelena. “You’re forgiven.” 

Yelena slumps in on herself. “Please, just call a meeting.” 

“Okay.” Layla agrees and then reaches out slowly. “Let’s get up. C’mon.” 

Yelena lets Layla tug her up to her feet. Layla picks up the discarded hoodie and holds it out to Yelena. Yelena slowly tugs it back on, pushing her hands into the pocket as she peers at Layla. 

“I’m going to make lunch and then I’m going to call a meeting. I promise,” Layla says quietly. “You should… get changed. Ready.” 

Yelena glances at Layla before shuffling toward the bedroom.

She likes the hoodie that Layla had given her to borrow. She hadn’t had one as big or as soft as it before. She chose practical clothes that she could move around in easier. A big hoodie was too easy to get caught on something. 

Still, Yelena changes back into her original outfit, inspecting the healed puncture marks on her chest. She runs her fingers over them before they trail up to the thin scar running across her throat. She would like to think that if her throat hadn’t been cut then she could have talked things out with Natasha. 

Layla had washed her clothes for her. Yelena can see that the double hole in her tank top had been stitched shut. She doesn’t know how to feel about Layla doing that with her clothes. Layla could have given Yelena some new clothes altogether. But instead, she gave Yelena back her original clothing and had washed and fixed it up as well. 

Yelena tugs the tank top and leggings on before she paused and peered at herself in the mirror. After a moment, she tugs the hoodie back on. 

She had barely aged in the past five years. She didn’t really look any different than the fifteen-year-old who died on the steps of Khonshu’s statue. She wonders if her sister would even recognize her considering what she should look like.

“Hey!” Layla knocks on the bathroom door. “Come eat!” 

Yelena hadn’t realized how long she had been staring at herself for. She tended to avoid mirrors for that very reason. She’d get lost in her head as she thinks over if she recognized her body. Khonshu would sometimes drop a towel over her head to make her stop staring. She startled so badly the first time he had done it, spinning around to look for an attacker. Khonshu’s staff just barely stopped her from smashing her fist into the mirror because she didn’t recognize herself. 

Yelena exits the bathroom and shuffles toward the kitchen. Layla sets a bowl down in front of the place Yelena had sat last time. She doesn’t mention how Yelena was still wearing the hoodie. 

Yelena starts to eat without bothering to look at it. She wasn’t worried about poisons. As soon as she puts the spoon into her mouth, she paused, looking down at the dish. “Is this borscht?” She should have recognized the scent but it had been over a decade since she had it last. 

“Yes,” Layla gives her a sheepish smile. “I just-- when I made food yesterday then you ate it like you hadn’t had a homecooked meal in a while. So I looked up traditional Russian dishes.” 

Yelena dips her spoon back down into the soup and brings it back up to her lips, savoring the taste. She blinks away the tears that form in her eyes. 

“Is it okay?” Layla asked nervously, shifting in place as she waited to hear Yelena’s opinion. 

“The last time I had borscht, I was six,” Yelena murmurs, peering down at her bowl. “My… my mama had told me that it was important I know where I come from. I haven’t had it in fourteen years.” Yelena eats another spoonful, ducking her head down. “Thank you.” She whispers. 

Layla says nothing else but continues to eat, letting Yelena soak up the nostalgic comfort the dish brought to her. Yelena remembers how the woman she once called her mother would make them blini and borscht on special occasions. Natasha had always been much quieter on those days but would ask for seconds and thirds. 

Yelena finishes the dish and then peers up at Layla. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Layla takes her empty dish and sets it into the sink. “Let me get dressed. Then I’ll call a meeting.” 

Yelena has to tug the hoodie she had borrowed off and folds it up neatly as Layla gets changed in the bedroom. Yelena sets it down onto the counter and summons the suit to her. It feels weird to wear it while Khonshu was gone, especially when she would usually have to be argued to wear it in the first place. Layla steps out of the bathroom in her own suit that Yelena could tell that Tawaret made by the amount of gold in it. 

“Are you ready?” Layla inquired, adjusting the metal braces on her forearms. 

“I’m ready,” Yelena tilts her head to the side. “What do I call you?” 

Layla peers over at her and grins. “You can call me Scarlet Scarab.” 

“Scarlet Scarab,” Yelena repeats before offering her a smile back. “I’m White Knight.” 

Layla’s smile is blinding as she reaches out to poke the cheek of the mask covering Yelena’s face. “What are you waiting for, White Knight? We’ve got a meeting to call.”

Chapter Text

The last time Yelena had seen the avatars, they were convinced Khonshu was going to get her killed because she was just a stupid kid. She still looks the same age as she was when she met them and she can only hope that she can use it to her advantage. 

Yelena pulls off her mask when she steps into the large room to greet the avatars. Layla may be older than her but she was also not as well versed in these types of things as Yelena was. Yelena bows down in greeting and Layla quickly mimics her. 

“You haven’t aged a day, avatar of Khonshu,” Selim spoke. It takes a few moments for Yelena to realize it was actually Osiris puppeting his avatar’s body. 

“Osiris,” Yelena doesn’t have Khonshu there to whisper what she should be doing in her ear. The last time she was here, Khonshu kept her from toeing the line too far. 

“Avatar of Tawaret,” Declan, Horus’s avatar nods at Layla in greeting. “Why have you called this meeting?” 

“Is it Khoshu?” Yatzil inquired, leaning forward to inspect Yelena. 

“What has he done now?” Declan’s face hardens as he straightens up. “Has he hurt you?” 

“What? No--” Yelena straightens up from her bow. “No, it’s not like that--” 

“Please…” Layla interrupts and Yelena’s head jerks toward her, praying that Tawaret is coaching her through this. “I called a meeting because Yelena cannot.” 

The room quiets and heads turn toward Yelena. She takes a step forward but keeps a respectful distance. “I cannot get into contact with my God.” 

The avatars straighten to attention. “Explain.” Osiris orders. 

Yelena explained the events that lead up to it. “He warned me of an avatar and a god that were dangerous. The God Apep killed me in my sleep and his avatar tried to do the same. I was lucky that Layla El-Faouly, avatar of Tawaret, was able to protect me as I healed,” Yelena glances toward Layla. “I have not been able to reach my avatar since after I was injured. I have called for him. I have prayed. I have not seen him.” 

“You still retain your abilities?” Yatzil inquired, tilting her head to the side. 

Yelena nods her head and pulls out a knife, tugging her glove off with her teeth and slicing her palm open, holding it up for all to see her skin knit back together. She shouldn’t have exposed a weapon in front of them but it got her point across. 

“Call for him now,” Osiris orders and Yelena does. She prays, she asks for him in her head and she eventually calls out for him vocally. 

Tefnut’s avatar stands and approaches Yelena. Yelena watches her warily. She recognizes the way the Goddess had taken over the body, they always puppet their avatars too stiffly, unused to human bodies. Tefnut reaches out to set a hand onto Yelena’s shoulder. “I do apologize for this.” 

Yelena’s eyes wide and she flinches just as Tefnut summons a staff and sinks it into her stomach. 

“Hey!” Layla moves forward but she’s jerked back by an invisible force that Yelena assumes is Tawaret. 

“Call for your God,” Tefnut tells Yelena and Yelena swallows a mouthful of blood as she calls out for Khonshu. Tefnut pulls her staff out and Yelena’s hands move to try and stop the blood splattering onto the floor at an alarming rate. 

“I don’t want to die--” Yelena chokes out. She hadn’t died since Khonshu had gone and she was afraid that since he wasn’t there to guide her back that she wouldn’t come back. Tefnut steps back and Yelena is immediately in Layla’s arms. 

“An avatar in distress is sure to get your patron there,” Selim states to the room as Yelena gives a shaky breath. “Unless you have been abandoned. But you still bear marks of his influence.”

Layla is holding Yelena up at this point. Yelena hates that she clings to Layla fiercely, blood staining their white uniforms. Yelena wants Khonshu. She needs the low rumble of his voice in her ear telling her that she’s safe and that she can let go. She needs to feel safe enough to die. She needs to know he will protect her body. 

“I’ve got you.” Layla tells her softly, holding her close. “I, Layla El-Faouly, Avatar of Tawaret, promise to protect your body.” 

“I want Khonshu,” Yelena whispers, drooping into Layla as blood spreads in a pool on the floor beneath them at a rapid rate. 

“I know.” Layla says. 

“Rest, avatar of Khonshu,” Osiris stands and takes a step toward her. “I will keep your soul safe and guide it back when it is time.” 

“Khonshu--” Yelena whimpers out, her knees failing her. Layla was the only thing holding her up. Layla gathers her up into her arms like a tired child and Yelena grimaces at the pain.

“I know.” Layla echoes, tucking Yelena against her to shield her from the rest of the avatars. 

“I want to wake up,” Yelena whispers. She still needs to find Natasha. She needs to tell her that she’s okay. She’s not done yet. 

“I know.” Layla repeats for a third time, unsure of what else she can say. The other avatars are murmuring but Yelena can’t hear them. Her head droops against Layla’s shoulder. “I’ve got you.” 

And Yelena has nobody but a woman she met a few days ago to trust to watch over her when she’s at her most vulnerable. Yelena’s eyes slip closed when they’re far too heavy to keep open. The blood on her stomach grows cold in the air. She fades fast. 

She wants her God. 

Chapter Text

“I miss you.” 

It’s not quite the same thing. 

Yelena is sitting on a swing in her six-year-old body, waiting to be resurrected. Sitting on the swing next to her is her big sister. 

Eleven-year-old Natasha doesn’t reply, slowly swinging back and forth as she stared blankly into the thick woods ahead of them. 

“I wish you were real,” Yelena continued on, her tiny legs too small to reach the ground from where she sat, her untied shoelaces dangling and dragging against the ground as she kicks her feet. “You’d know what to do, I think. You were always good about that. I’m the avatar to an ancient Egyptian God, can you believe that?” 

Natasha doesn’t react, her sneakers scraping against the mulch with each lazy swing she gives. 

“Khonshu’s really nice. He’s intimidating and dangerous but I like him. He-- he saved me,” Yelena slowly pumps her legs back and for in an attempt to swing. “He’s big and protective and keeps me safe. He’s my family.” 

Yelena glances away from Natasha to look out into the woods, wondering what Natasha’s staring at. Yelena had to walk into the woods eventually, she knows that, but she wants to be selfish and stay here a little bit longer. 

“He tells me that I can’t stay here. He gets-- he gets mad when I die. When I come here,” Yelena’s fingers tighten around the chains of the swing, ducking her head down. “I think… I think that maybe I sometimes might let myself die. Not-- not on purpose but… but it doesn’t scare me. Not anymore. I’m coming back, Khonshu will keep me safe, and I get to see you here!” 

Yelena glances at Natasha, swallowing hard when she realized what she said. 

“I’m not-- I’m not trying to die,” She hastily states, tilting her head back to look up at the blue sky, stopping her swinging. “I just… I don’t stop it either.” 

Yelena takes a few deep breaths before she spoke again. “I think I need help.” She admits out loud. “I can’t-- I can’t keep going like this. Fighting and bleeding and hunting and dying.” 

She slides off the swing, wobbling on unsteady legs before she turns toward her sister. She approached her, the swing stopping as Yelena gets in its path. Yelena swallows hard, reaching out to try and take her sister’s hand. 

Just like always, her fingers fade through like an illusion, hitting the swing chain instead. 

“I love Khonshu. But everybody tells me that he hurts me. They all think I’m a stupid child, that I’m going to end up dying for good in his hands--” Yelena inhales sharply, yanking her hand away and watching Natasha’s hand come back. “He saved me! He helped me! He protects me! He cares about me! They know nothing!” 

Natasha doesn’t answer just like always and angry tears fill Yelena’s eyes as she steps back, twisting and letting out a scream of frustration, yelling until she doubles over, gasping for air. 

“He’s all I have!” Yelena screams at Natasha, her eyes burning. “He’s my family! I don’t need you anymore! I have my own family now! You can go and play with the stupid Avengers all you want!” Yelena kicks mulch at her, tears finally rolling down her cheeks when the mulch hits Natasha’s legs. 

“I don’t need you anymore!” Yelena continues, kicking at the mulch even harder as her fingers curls into fists. “You left! You left me just like everybody else! Why?” 

Natasha starts to swing again when Yelena gets far enough away and Yelena kicks at the mulch so hard that she trips over her untied shoelaces and falls to the ground, scraping her knees. 

She bursts into tears, folding in on herself as she sobs. “Why did you leave me? I died Nattie-- I died and it hurt so much.” She wraps her arms around herself, tears dripping off her nose from where she was hunched over, decorating the mulch with dark dots. “I was so scared.” Yelena whispers. 

Footsteps approach her and Yelena tenses up when a hand rests on her shoulder, her head jerking to peer at who touched her. She freezes when she sees eleven-year-old Natasha crouching next to her. 

“Did you scrape your knees?” Natasha asked with concern, tugging Yelena back to look at her knees. “Mom always tells you that you have to tie your shoes, silly.” 

It’s a hazy memory tucked in the back of Yelena’s head but it’s slowly coming back to her. 

“You-- you can touch me…” Yelena breathes out, watching as Natasha brushes some mulch from her pants and then kneels in front of her. 

“Let me see,” Natasha’s fingers wrap around Yelena’s right ankle, tugging her foot out and into her lap. Natasha then starts to tie her shoe and Yelena watches, every muscle tense, too afraid to move in case she disturbs the memory. “I’m not always going to be there to tie your shoes, you’ll have to learn someday.” 

“But it’s hard,” Yelena remembered saying, the words tumbling out of her mouth again.

Natasha lets out a hum, finishing a perfect bow on Yelena’s right shoe before shoving her foot away and reaching for the left one. “A lot of things are hard. But we do them anyway. Keep moving forward. You’ll only get better.” 

Yelena watches Natasha tie her other shoe. 

“There. Good as new,” Natasha pats her feet. “Pretty soon, you won’t need me anymore. You’ll be able to do this and all grown up.” 

“I’m always going to need you,” Yelena breathed out, no hint of the childish giggle she once held when had originally said it. 

Natasha’s face softened as she reaches out and Yelena minutely flinches when she feels the soft touch of Natasha’s hand on her cheek to tuck a strand of hair out of her face. “I’m not always going to be there for you.” 

“Why not?” Yelena whispers, recalling the memory that had turned foggy over the years. 

Natasha gives her a sad smile. “It’s how things are.” 

“Why?” 

“It just is, Lena,” Natasha lets out a hum, watching Yelena with soft green eyes. “Do you remember what mom says?” Natasha’s fingers run over what would have been scrapes on Yelena’s knees if she could have gotten hurt here in her memories. 

“Pain makes you stronger,” Yelena parrots, watching Natasha shake her head. 

“You make yourself stronger,” Natasha corrects, reaching out to poke Yelena’s nose. “You can’t rely on other people or things to make you stronger. Mom doesn’t make you strong, pain doesn’t make you strong, I don’t make you strong. You make you stronger.” 

It hurts Yelena so much more to know that Natasha knew. Natasha knew that they were going to the Red Room. Natasha knew that Yelena had to learn to rely on only herself. 

“I miss you--” Yelena chokes out, falling off the script and Natasha doesn’t reply, the sad smile still on her face. “I’m here. I’m right here, why can’t you see me?” 

Natasha’s still touching her so Yelena takes the opportunity to lurch forward, wrapping her arms around Natasha and holding her close. It feels so wrong, it’s not right and Yelena’s face crumples because she wants a real hug from her big sister, not some puppet from a memory over a dozen years ago. 

“I still need you.” 

Natasha doesn’t reply. 

Chapter Text

“They fucking killed her!” 

Layla was trying not to bring a lot of attention to herself as she spoke with her Goddess. Tawaret didn’t seem particularly concerned that Layla was holding a dead girl. Layla was just lucky the girl had the body of a teenager and wasn’t too big to hold. Still, Layla had blood on her, and Yelena’s limp body was heavy. 

“It was a test,” Tawaret explained patiently, fawning over Yelena’s body even though she couldn’t actually touch her. “An avatar in distress should immediately call forth their God or Goddess, even if they didn’t ask for them. Khonshu not coming to her distress means that he is in trouble.” 

“And they couldn’t have figured it out without killing her!” Layla tries not to freak out over the fact that there was no longer a heartbeat in the body she was carrying. “Tawaret, she’s dead. Legally dead. Her heart has stopped. Blood has stopped pumping. When are they going to revive her?” 

“You shouldn’t be questioning Gods, Layla,” Tawaret warns her and Layla resists the urge to groan. 

“I’m a human, Tawaret. I don’t understand these things. Please explain it to me,” Playing the human card could get Layla out of a lot of fusses with Tawaret. 

Tawaret sighs before shaking her head fondly. “They will bring her back when it is time. For now, they are looking for signs of her God.” Tawaret glances toward the other avatars. 

“And what if her God doesn’t show back up?” Layla shifts her grip to hoist Yelena up into her arms when she starts to slip. 

Tawaret lets out a hum, a small frown on her lips. “We must assume the worst and sever the tie between avatar and God in hopes of giving the God more strength.” 

“Sever the tie?” Layla echoes because that sounded dangerous. “What do you mean by that?” 

“When a God or Goddess picks an avatar, they tether a portion of themselves to the avatar. You have a portion of me tethered to you so you can summon the suit and call for me.” Tawaret gestures at her armor. 

“What does severing the tie involved? How would it impact the avatar?” Layla wants to know if it’s going to hurt. 

Tawaret doesn’t respond at first and Layla’s heart sinks. “Khonshu found his avatar when she was dying.” Tawaret finally says quietly. “He saved her and brought her back to life by putting a small piece of himself into her.”

“Are you saying that if they sever the tie that she’s going to die?” Layla demands, pulling the teenager in her arms closer to her. 

“It’s a possibility,” Tawaret inclines her head and Layla blanches at the thought. 

“She’s just a kid,” Layla comments. Perhaps Yelena is twenty but physically, and probably mentally, she’s still stuck as the kid that died. 

Tawaret doesn’t look pleased about it either but composes herself. “She is but one of thousands of avatars that Khonshu has had.” 

“She matters just as all the rest of them do!” Layla can’t help but raise her voice slightly, shrinking in on herself when Tawaret looks at her firmly. 

Tawaret then sighs, shaking her head. “She has lived the longest.” 

“What?” Layla raised an eyebrow. 

“Yelena is the longest anyone has been Khonshu’s avatar. The others simply couldn’t handle the demand and strain and would give in or demand out. Yelena is the first to be able to keep up with what he needs her to do,” Tawaret moves closer, peering down at Yelena’s ashen face. “Her life has been a long and hard one. They are good for each other.” 

Layla opens her mouth to say that from what she heard about Khonshu, he sounds like an asshole. Not only did he pick some kid to be his avatar, but said kid died over and over again for his cause, which is often assassinations or violence. 

But Tawaret reads her mind, sending her an unimpressed look. “You do not understand because you are human.” She says and Layla is a little tired of hearing the whole ‘you’re a human so you don’t understand’ argument but she listens. “Have you heard of immortal avatars?” 

Layla slowly shakes her head. 

“Immortal avatars are avatars who have proved their worth to their God. They are, in their God’s eye, perfect for them. God’s will want to cling to them, protect them, and keep them safe to ensure that they can continue to do their work,” Tawaret comments, glancing over to the other side of the room where the other Avatars were conversing. “God’s often pick young avatars to give them room to grow. You are young yourself.” 

Layla shifts her hold on Yelena again, worried about how the body was losing some of its warmth. “Okay?” 

“When God’s connect with their avatars and find the perfect human, often a young one, they may grow…” Tawaret searches for the right word. “Protective over them. One could even say parental.” 

Layla blinks a few times. “Are you saying that Khonshu adopted a kid?” She’s unsure if she’s hearing things correctly. 

“You could argue I adopted you in a way,” Tawaret comments, seemingly amused. “You are part of me and I guide and teach you. Just as Yelena is part of Khonshu. He guides, teaches, and protects her. That’s why when she got lethally injured and he didn’t show up, it was concerning.” 

Layla’s arms were starting to get tired of holding the body. Her armor is crusted with drying blood and Yelena is losing her warmth. “When will they bring her back?” 

“Soon.” Tawaret sounds confident so Layla peers back over at where the avatars were arguing. 

She is in over her head. She just met this kid a few days ago for fucks sake, she shouldn’t be holding their dead body as God’s that could kill her with a single look argue nearby. 

Selim finally turns and approaches Layla. It takes a moment for Layla to realize that it’s just Osiris puppeting his avatar’s body. Osiris reaches out. “May I see?” He asked as if he wasn’t inquiring about a whole person. 

Layla really doesn’t want to hand Yelena over but Tawaret gives her an encouraging nod so Layla carefully transfers the teenager into Osiris’s hold. Osiris turns and starts to walk off and Layla jolts after him. “Hey, where are you going?” She demands. 

Osiris doesn’t look back as he speaks. “To bring her back.” He said simply. 

“I promised I would watch her body!” Layla protests when Tawaret clamps a hand onto her shoulder to stop her. Layla doesn’t trust the Gods with her, they already killed her once. 

“She will be fine, Layla,” Tawaret soothes her, her hand squeezing Layla’s shoulder. “Do not interrupt him while he works.” 

Layla stands there, feeling very out of place, as she waits for Osiris to bring Yelena back. 

When they finally do return, Yelena is stumbling on unsteady feet, a glazed look in her eyes as she cradles her stomach. Her skin is still paper white but there is a slight flush in her cheeks that eases a part of Layla’s clenched chest.

Layla still can’t help but reach out when Yelena is within arm’s reach, her hands moving toward Yelena’s abdomen. There’s still fresh blood trickling through Yelena’s fingers but the kid is alive and when Layla presses her hand to Yelena’s chest and feels her heart beating, she can finally relax. 

Yelena leans into the touch so Layla gathers her in her arms, pulling her close and letting Yelena lean against her. The kid is too tired to protest, her head drooping onto Layla’s armored shoulder. 

“We are looking into the whereabouts of Apep,” Declan informs Layla, glancing down at Yelena. “Take her home. We shall call for Tawaret when we have news.” 

Layla huffs quietly before she inclines her head and then turns her attention to Yelena. She doesn’t think the kid has a home she can return her to. “C’mon kid. You need a shower and a nap.” 

“I'm sorry I bled on you,” Yelena slurs slightly, her Russian accent thick as she wobbles on unsteady legs when Layla attempts to lead her out. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Layla replies, grabbing Yelena’s cape to keep her steady. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“Really?” Yelena blinks up at her sleepily. 

“Yeah.” Layla says, softening her voice because damned it if Yelena doesn’t look like the kid she insists she’s not at the moment. “Come here, you’re gonna heal slower if you’re moving it when you walk.” 

Yelena doesn’t protest when Layla scoops her back up into her arms, sagging against her, absolutely exhausted. “You remind me of my sister.” 

“I… wasn’t aware you had a sister,” Layla barely falters in her footsteps. “I assumed when you told me you didn’t have parents--” 

“She’s not really my sister…” Yelena mumbles into Layla’s shoulder. “But she’s all I got. She doesn’t know I’m alive and I can’t go to her.” 

“Why not?” Layla asked, ascending the steps of the tomb they were in. 

“Cause I kill people,” Yelena whispers like a secret. “And if she knows then she won’t love me anymore.” 

Layla doesn’t know what to say to that so she merely holds Yelena closer as she focuses on getting the kid home. 

Chapter Text

Layla takes the kid home. To her home, more specifically, but at this point she was going to carve out a space for Yelena to have. Avatar or not, Yelena obviously needed someone to look after her and Khonshu didn’t appear to be doing a good job before he was gone. 

“Right.” Layla sets Yelena onto the edge of the tub in the bathroom. The wound in Yelena’s abdomen had healed but Yelena was still incredibly exhausted and her head was bobbing as she tries to keep herself awake. “Think you can shower off and not drown?” 

Yelena peers up at her, blinking a few times as she processes the words before she slowly nods. Layla isn’t quite sure how much she actually believes her. 

“Okay. Put the suit away,” Layla says, turning the shower on and sticking her hand under the water to ensure it was warm enough. When she turns back around, the suit had dematerialized and Yelena looks even smaller without all the armor on her. She’s sitting in a bloody tank top and leggings, staring at her lap with a glazed expression. “Think you can strip and wash off? I’ll get you some clothes and a towel.” 

Yelena scowls slightly. “I can do it.” She mumbles, reaching for the hem of her tank top. Layla ducks out quickly to find something clean. She dematerializes her own suit so that she doesn’t get congealed blood on anything. 

Layla grabs a towel and heads back to the bathroom, knocking on the door to warn Yelena before entering to leave the clothes on the sink. “You still alive in there, kid?” 

It takes a moment before there’s a hum from behind the fogged up glass. 

Layla exits the bathroom with the confirmation that Yelena was alive. Layla works on starting to heat up something warm for them to eat after the day that they’ve had. 

Yelena eventually shuffles out of the bathroom, rubbing her face sleepily. She looked ready to curl up and sleep for the next year but Layla intercepts her, steering the kid toward the kitchen where Layla made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. 

She has to prompt Yelena to eat every few bites, the teenager staring down at her plate, absolutely exhausted. Yelena only manages to finish half and Layla finally gives in because she’s pretty sure that Yelena is moments away from face-planting right into her food. 

“Come on. You should get some rest,” Layla has no idea how much it takes out of you to die and then be ressurected. It isn’t Yelena’s first time doing so but Layla wonders if she was this tired after each time. If she was, then Layla did have to begrudgingly commend Yelena’s patron, Khonshu kept her safe enough after getting her killed. Yelena doesn’t make a peep as Layla guides her up and steers her from the kitchen. 

Layla thought that Yelena deserved to sleep in an actual bed rather than the couch so she takes the kid to her room. Layla has to gently push her shoulder to get Yelena to sit on the bed. Yelena’s eyes flicker around the room, her fingers absentmindedly running along the sheets before she peers up at Layla. 

“I don’t wanna fuck you,” Yelena states, startling Layla. “I can sleep on the couch.” 

Layla isn’t even sure if she wants to go over all of that so instead she replies, “You’re a sweet kid but I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you. I have some work to do. You rest up, I’m sure dying takes a lot out of you.” 

Yelena eyes her but she finally either decides that Layla is telling the truth or resigns herself to the fact that Layla may do whatever she wanted while she slept. 

Layla kinda wants to kill some people now. 

Yelena lays down with a little more prompting and almost immediately falls asleep before Layla can even pull the covers over her. 

Layla was always a bit of a loner and didn’t have many friends but she wasn’t completely isolated nor did she have a rough childhood. 

So while she had been very unhappy with Tawaret giving out her address to someone without her consent, she’s glad that Yelena had someplace to crash and burn safely. 

Yelena is older than she looks, Layla knows that, but each time she sees the face of a  fifteen-year-old looking up at her, it just makes her wanna give the poor kid a hug. 

Layla watches the girl sleep for a few moments before she leaves her bedroom, taking a quick shower before moving toward where she had been studying the copy of the artifact that Yelena had told her was a fake. Try as she might, Layla cannot get back into the swing of things. She stares down at her notes but her mind keeps drifting. 

She thinks of the snippets of information that Yelena had given her regarding her past. Yelena didn’t have parents, but apparently had a sister. She learned from the age of six that she had only herself to rely on, not to mention the rampant abandonment issues. Yelena had been Khonshu’s avatar for five years. The kid said it was longer than anybody bothered to stick around. 

Tawaret mentioned that Yelena had been part of a human trafficking ring as a child and that was part of what led her to die. Layla wonders if she was in the foster system and ran away, leading to her being trafficked. Layla took down a ring of human traffickers and most of them were young women in high school and college. 

Layla thinks to how Yelena reacted in the bedroom. Overall, Layla’s heart hurts for the kid. She can’t fault Khonshu for picking her. Tawaret said that some Gods liked to pick their avatar’s young and would get ‘parental’ over them. Layla was nearly thirty but sometimes Tawaret fussed over her like she was ten. Looking back on it, Tawaret would show up to remind Layla to eat or sleep whenever she got too invested in her work. Tawaret protected her and guided her, and Layla tries to think of Khonshu doing the same for Yelena. 

Khonshu was known as an unruly and disobedient God and Layla remembers Tawaret saying that he was on thin ice with the other Gods and Goddesses. Layla thinks of how the avatars had been so convinced that he had hurt Yelena when she showed up to talk about him. 

Funny how the avatars were concerned about a God hurting her when their own Gods would proceed to kill her to prove a point. 

Layla finally moves to collect the laundry from the bathroom to put it in the wash, grimacing at the blood. She gets what she can out before dumping it into the washing machine and then moves back to collect the pair of boots from the bathroom that Yelena left behind. 

Yelena had refused to take her shoes off for a little while there and Layla did understand the need to be able to run at a moment’s notice but the kid had been so exhausted that she either forgot or didn’t care enough to bother with putting them back on this time. 

Layla moves to set the shoes by the front door with her own when her hand slipped as she bumps into the corner of her table. The boots drop to the floor and two small pieces of paper flutter out from inside the left shoe. 

Layla frowns, rubbing the spot on her hip that she bumped against the table as she crouches down to pick the papers up. They’re in a clear bag to keep them preserved.

The first is not actually paper but a photo strip from a photo booth that Layla would see at shopping malls. The strip was torn in half at the bottom. There were two grinning kids depicted in the photos and Layla easily recognized the little blonde one as Yelena. 

Layla then picks up the other piece of paper, frowning when she sees that it’s a cut-out from a magazine of one of the Avengers. Layla glances between the two photos with a frown, wondering why Yelena kept an obviously personal photo along with an image of Natasha Romanoff. 

Oh…

Oh . 

Chapter Text

Yelena wakes up in an unfamiliar bed and it takes a few moments for her to register that she’s someplace new. She jolts upright, half expecting to see Khonshu in the corner waiting to tell her that she was safe and explain where exactly he had piloted her body after she died. 

The corners are empty, the shadows do not hide her God and the previous day starts to slowly come back in fragmented pieces. 

Yelena remembers being stabbed by a God. She remembers bleeding out and then dying. She remembers her meltdown with the memory of her older sister as children. 

She peers around the bedroom, her head still a little foggy. She presumes that she’s in Layla’s apartment, more specifically in her bedroom, but she can’t remember how she got there. 

“Khonshu?” She can’t help but whisper, praying that the Gods had somehow figured out how to return Khonshu to her while she was dead. She knows she shouldn’t get her hopes up because her chest tightens uncomfortably when there is no response. 

Yelena pushes the sheets off of her, slowly standing, and looks down at her outfit. She’s no longer wearing her suit, or the tank top and legging she usually wore underneath that. She assumes that she’s wearing something of Layla’s but she doesn’t remember changing or showering. She knows that she was covered in blood, she thinks she may have apologized for bleeding all over Layla. She really hopes that Layla didn’t see anything if she helped her. Then again, Yelena owes her for barreling into her life and making all these demands of her, bleeding on her, and now stealing her bed. 

Yelena opens the door of the bedroom and shuffles into the bathroom, feeling like an intruder as she quietly creeps around. She peers at herself in the mirror, realizing that she was staring at herself for a while and she turns, half expecting to see Khonshu waiting to drop a towel over her head. 

When Yelena leaves the bathroom, she finds Layla sitting at her desk, inspecting the notes that she had made on the relic. Yelena approaches her quietly, watching her work for a few moments as she debates about how to get her attention. She finally takes a deep breath and gets it over with. “Layla?”

Layla jumps, knocking over a stack of books with her elbow and Yelena sees her pull a knife and twist to wave it at her face. Instinct has Yelena snatching Layla’s wrist, twisting sharply. Even with fatigue dragging her down, Yelena easily disarms her and has Layla’s own knife at her throat in a matter of moments. 

“Holy shit…” Layla breathes out and Yelena blinks before she realizes what she was doing and jerks away, dropping the knife. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” Yelena apologizes, backing away and holding her hands up. 

“No-- no, that was my fault,” Layla straightens up. “I didn’t expect you to be awake so soon. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She looked concerned. 

“Hurt me?” Yelena echoes. Layla wouldn’t be able to hurt her unless she really tried. She shakes her head. “No. No, did I hurt you?” Yelena grabbed her hard and she can’t tell if she hurt Layla when she put the knife to her neck. 

“No. But…” Layla peers down at her with a small smile. “You know, that was really cool.” 

Yelena blinks at her. “...what?” she squints in confusion. “I had a knife to your neck.” She states as if Layla had forgotten. 

“Yes. But the way that you disarmed me was really cool,” Layla gushes and Yelena stares at her in disbelief. 

“You’re… you’re not mad?” Yelena questioned. She doesn’t think she’s ever met someone who was so nonchalant about having a knife held to their neck and then not holding a grudge. “I could have killed you.” 

“No. I’m not mad,” Layla shakes her head, finally reaching down to start picking up the books she knocked over. “But you have to show me how to do that.” 

“You don’t know how to disarm someone?” Yelena frowned before she crouches down to help Layla collect the spilled books. 

“Not like that,” Layla moves the books the collected back on the table again. 

“But you said that you took down a human trafficking ring,” Yelena knew that there was always heavy security and weapons involved when it concerned trafficking. “Who taught you to fight?” 

“I’ve mainly done taekwondo and karate. I took jiu-jitsu in middle school and then self-defense classes as a teenager. When Tawaret approached me, I started training,” Layla peers over at Yelena. “What about you?” 

Yelena stares at her. “That’s all?” She can’t help but blurt before wishing she could take her words back when Layla eyes her, letting out a huff. 

“What do you mean that’s all? I’m just a woman, Yelena. I don’t have superpowers,” Layla straightens the books on her table. “What kind of training do you have then if my training is so scoff-worthy.” 

Yelena should have expected the question to be returned to her. She plucks at the sleeves of the shirt she was wearing, looking down at her bare feet. “Some…” She mumbled, not really wanting to delve into the Red Room. 

“Where did you learn to disarm someone like that then?” Layla folds her arms, leaning against her desk to watch Yelena curiously. 

“I learned when I was eight,” Yelena eyes a spot on the rug under her feet. “Mastered it when I was nine.” She remembers using it to slit a fellow Widow’s throat. 

“Eight?” Layla repeats in disbelief. “Who the hell was teaching you to throw knives at eight?” 

“Does it matter?” Yelena can’t help but snap at her, shrinking in on herself when Layla stares at her. 

“I guess not,” She drops the subject. “Are you hungry?” 

“Not really. How long was I sleeping?” Yelena asked, trying not to reveal the fact that she barely remembered the previous day. 

“Like twelve hours. I honestly expected you to sleep for days or something but then again I have no expertise when it comes to resurrection,” Layla’s face drops as she looks down at her feet before looking up at Yelena again. “You… shit, kid. You died in my arms.” 

Yelena swallows hard, guilt pooling in her stomach. She had only ever died with Khonshu before. “I’m sorry.” 

“No!” Layla suddenly exclaimed, startling Yelena. “Don’t apologize for dying. The whole thing was really fucked up and not your fault.” 

Yelena doesn’t know what she’s supposed to say if not apologize. She longs to feel Khonshu hover just over her shoulder like a protective shield wrapped around her, guiding her through what she should say or do. “Did… did they mention anything yesterday about Khonshu?” 

Layla eyes her for a few moments. “How much do you remember?” 

Yelena lets out a huff at the exact question she had been trying to avoid. “Not much.” She admits because she wants her God more than she wants to save herself from embarrassment. “I know that I died but everything after that is spotty.” 

Layla nods her head. “That makes sense. Tawaret talked to me a little bit after you died about what it meant when your patron didn’t show up. They don’t know where he is. There…” She paused for a moment before she steeled herself. “There was talk about severing your bond with Khonshu.” 

Yelena feels like a bucket of ice water was dumped over her, cold dread filling her. They couldn’t sever a bond between an avatar and a God without consent from both parties, could they? Yelena would have to say it was okay, right? They can’t just-- they can’t just take Khonshu away from her.

…can they? 

Khonshu was the only person Yelena had. She wouldn’t know what to do without him. She needed him. He protected her. He was her family. 

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” Layla is suddenly very close to her, her hands gripping Yelena’s shoulders gently. “Breathe, Yelena.” 

Yelena wants Khonshu. She wants him to display hieroglyphs in front of her and she wants him to tap his staff against the ground in that pattern that never failed to soothe Yelena. Sometimes Khonshu’s rumbling voice was too much but the tapping of his staff at her feet never frightened her. 

“Hey.” There are suddenly hands on her face and Yelena flinches, her eyes flickering to peer up at Layla. “There we go. You need to breathe, Yelena. C’mon kid.” 

“Not a kid--” Yelena manages to get out between gasps. 

“Of course not,” Layla hums, her grip on Yelena’s shoulders softening. “Come here.” She tugs Yelena forward and Yelena is much too tired to put up a protest. 

Layla pulls Yelena against her shoulder, gripping her wrist and pulling her hand up to press against her chest. 

“Feel my heartbeat. Feel the rise and fall of my chest. Can you try to match it?” Layla encourages and Yelena squeezed her eyes shut. She does her best, breathing in and out with Layla the best she can. 

She shouldn’t have freaked out like that. But the thought of someone taking Khonshu away from her scared her, especially if they could do so without her even knowing. “Sorry…” She finally manages to breathe out. 

“Shush,” Layla scolds and Yelena falls quiet. Layla squeezed her hand, swaying in place and Yelena really shouldn’t be so comfortable with leaning into the hold of someone she met nearly a week ago. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” 

Yelena squeezed her eyes shut. “I need him.” She wonders if the bond was severed if Khonshu would ever take her back or see her again. She knew she was just some human that could be easily replaced but she needed him, even if he only wanted her for her skills. 

“I know,” Layla says. “Hey, why don’t we go to the grocery store and pick some comfort food.” 

“Comfort food?” Yelena echoes, wrinkling her nose. “What is that?” 

“Essentially what it says. Food that comforts you, maybe reminds you of a happy memory or makes you feel nice,” Layla shrugs her shoulder. “I like apple cinnamon oatmeal. Makes me think of my father.” 

“I like macaroni and cheese,” Yelena said quietly and Layla lets out a soft laugh.

“Let’s go get some then.” 

Natasha knew that there was something off about Layla El-Faouly. Something about the woman told Natasha that she couldn’t drop this. So Maria allowed Natasha to set up surveillance on the woman. 

Layla and her niece Dina dropped off the cameras for two days before suddenly reappearing, Layla carrying her niece, the young girl injured. 

Now, the duo is heading down the sidewalk, a hood pulled over Dina’s face as Layla keeps an arm around her, talking to her with a grin. 

Clint is paired with Natasha and they follow them from a distance. Dina carries herself tersely, her head ducked down. 

Layla and Dina head into a grocery store and the duo follows them in. Layla tugs Dina around the store and has to prompt her to even pick things up. Dina’s body language was off. To most, it would look like a grumpy teenager that just wanted to be left alone but Natasha catches Dina tensing up under each touch from Layla, her head tilting to eye each exit, and she purposefully avoids everyone else. 

Natasha watches as Layla drags them to the aisle with pasta and they stand in front of the display, Layla whispering something into Dina’s ear. Dina finally reaches out to pick up a box of kraft macaroni and cheese and Natasha’s heart clenches when she remembers how Yelena adored that fake cheese sauce. 

Her heart always hurt whenever she thought about her baby sister. She still holds a lot of regret about not being able to save her. Losing her sister is her biggest regret. 

Clint grips her shoulder to get her attention and Natasha pulls herself out of her head to focus on the pair. 

When Dina picks up a box of pop-tarts, Layla reaches out to ruffle her head, the hoodie moving under her hand and they get a view of Dina’s face. 

Clint sucks in a sharp breath and Natasha drinks in the sight of the girl’s features before Dina slaps Layla’s hand away and adjusts the hood over her head. 

“Shit, Nat. That’s her,” Clint breathes out and Natasha glances at him. “White Knight.”

The sketch artist didn’t get the features right. Dina, or rather White Knight, is not a young adult as Clint had estimated. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” Clint inclines his head. 

White Knight is a child no older than sixteen. A child soldier. 

Dina’s head turns until she’s staring at them. She drops what she was holding in her hands and takes off right for them. 

“Shit!” Clint grabs Natasha’s arm and yanks her toward the exit of the store. “C’mon!” 

Natasha glances behind them at White Knight, watching the girl falter when their eyes connect before the girl picks up her pace. 

“Hey!” Layla turns the corner, cutting them off. Clint slides to the left of her while Natasha slides to the right. To her surprise, Layla doesn’t try to stop them but rather snatches White Knight’s hoodie, yanking her back and wrapping her arms around her to keep her in place. 

White Knight squirms, the hood falling from her head, and Natasha catches a glimpse of her unobscured face for the first time before Clint drags her away. 

Maria is displeased when Clint updates her on the situation. 

That night, Natasha dreams of her sweet baby sister as they swing on the playset in their backyard. 

She desperately misses the little girl that she let get sent to the slaughter. She wasn’t quick enough to save her. But perhaps, she could save White Knight. 

Chapter Text

Yelena is sitting at the counter in Layla’s kitchen, watching quietly as Layla unpacks the snacks they had gotten from the trip to the store. She wasn’t hungry at all, a hollow pit in her stomach as Layla finally leans on the counter in front of her. “So…”

Yelena looks down at the marble countertop to avoid her stare. 

“Wanna tell me why you tried to hunt down and kill two Avengers?” Layla questioned, tilting her head to the side. 

Yelena should leave and just go back to her safe house, she has no reason to stay here and be questioned by Layla. She doesn’t owe her anything. 

But she doesn’t want to be alone. She’s always had someone by her side, even in the Red Room. Her sister, other Widows, her handlers, Khonshu. 

“I told Clint Barton if I ever saw him again then I was going to kill him,” Yelena replies carefully, focusing on the marble countertop rather than Layla’s face. “Why did you stop me?” 

Layla was quiet for a few moments before she lets out a sigh. “I know that Black Widow is your sister.” 

Yelena straightens up, going tense as she looks up at Layla. “How?” She demands, her fingers itching toward a knife. 

“I saw the pictures in your boots when I was cleaning up the bathroom when you were sleeping. It was an accident,” Layla said, her body language open and honest. 

“You thought I was going to hurt her?” Yelena asked quietly, her chest clenching because she thought Layla understood that she didn’t hurt innocent people, only those who really deserved it. 

“No.” Layla shakes her head, leaning onto the counter to look Yelena in the eyes. “I stopped you because you don’t want to get your sister dragged into this mess. You’ve died like twice since I met you and that wasn’t even a whole week ago yet.” Layla points out. “You have an angry God hunting you down trying to kill you.”

Yelena looks down at her lap. She hadn’t considered it that way. 

“Do you want to talk about her?” Layla asked, her voice softening. “It must have been a long time since you’ve seen her, she didn’t even recognize you.” 

“I haven’t seen her since I was six,” Yelena confessed, looking down before she reaches down and unties her shoe, pulling the photograph Layla had seen out of the heel. “She’s not actually my sister.” 

Layla accepts the photograph when Yelena offers it out, peering down at it with a small smile. “You look like sisters here.” 

“What do you know about my childhood?” Yelena watches Layla carefully, worried about the woman damaging the photograph she had worked so hard to keep preserved. 

“Tawaret said that you were trafficked,” Layla confessed and Yelena isn’t too surprised at the revelation. 

“Before I became the White Knight, I was known by another name,” Yelena reaches out for the photograph and Layla relinquishes her hold. “They called me White Widow.”

“I’ve never heard of you,” Layla admits, leaning back to look at Yelena better. “Wait, White Widow… like Black Widow?” 

Yelena inclines her head, tucking the photograph back into her boot safely. “The White Widow was known for her ruthlessness, her bloodthirsty and cold attitude. Anybody who crossed paths with her didn’t make it out alive.” Yelena stays bent over, one hand on her shoe as she takes a deep breath. “I was also known as the best child assassin there ever was.” 

“You were an assassin before Khonshu?” Layla questioned and Yelena straightens up when she hears no judgment in the tone. Layla was moving around the counter to sit next to Yelena. 

“I was handpicked at three and started my training at six,” Yelena shakes her head slightly. “Natasha was sent on a mission with me when I was three and she was eight. I thought they were my actual family. She was my sister, my big sister Nattie, and I loved her more than anything.” 

“But Natasha has been an Avenger for a few years. I’ve seen her on the news,” Layla’s brow was furrowed. “If you’re her sister then why didn’t come for you.” 

Yelena sucks in a sharp breath at the question, looking down at her hands. “I don’t know if she knows I’m alive.” She admits. “I died in the temple of Khonshu. The Red Room probably paraded my death around, letting the others know that not even the best child assassin was safe from their grasp.” 

“The Red Room?” Layla echoes, a strange tone in her voice. Yelena peers up at her curiously. “I… I’ve heard about them.” 

“Really?” Yelena sits up. “From where?” 

“Tawaret. She’s mentioned them before. Goddess of women and children, remember?” Layla said softly. 

“Have you killed for her?” Yelena can’t help but question, watching as Layla flinches slightly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, a handful of times. I only did it on purpose twice,” Layla’s finger trails along the design on the marble countertop. 

“You’re going to kill more in the future,” Yelena states, hating that she makes Layla shrink in on herself. “It comes with the job of being an avatar, especially when you are helping the way that you are.”

“Does… shit, does it get easier?” Layla asked her and Yelena hates that she can nod her head. 

“It’s more-- it’s more like a job now. It has to happen. The people I kill are scum, they are the worst of the worst and they hurt people. I can only kill them after they hurt.” Yelena wanted to kill them before they had the chance but Khonshu told her that she couldn’t, that that wasn’t how it worked. 

“I’m sorry.” Layla said and Yelena eyes her in confusion. 

“For what?” She inquired and Layla turned, reaching out and grabbing Yelena’s hand.

“You deserve more than that,” Layla said sincerely. 

“My ledger is dripping with red. I can’t stop. That’s why I can’t see my sister,” Yelena shakes her head, looking down at the hand Layla held. “She’d try to make me stop. And I can’t. And I don’t want to pick.”

“You said that.” Layla admits and Yelena frowns, peering up at her in confusion. “Yesterday. When I was carrying you back, you told me I reminded you of your sister but that you couldn’t go back to her because she’d hate you for killing.”

Yelena doesn’t remember that. “I see her when I die.” She whispers the confession, feeling Layla squeeze her hand. “I go back to when I was a six-year-old, back before everything went to shit, and I see her there and she loves me and I miss her.” 

“You promised me that you’d help me with my case after I helped you find your God,” Layla gestures to her desk that held the artifact notes and books. “I want to make another vow.” 

Yelena frowns. “What?” She hadn’t been expecting that. “What vow?” The sudden proposition came out of nowhere.

“I’ll help you reach out and get into contact with your sister after our first vow is completed,” Layla replies. 

“What do I owe you in return? It works two ways,” Yelena reminds her.

“In return, I want your vow that if you get in over your head then you’ll know that you can come here to me and I’ll help, no questions asked,” Layla doesn’t look like she’s joking. 

“That’s something else to benefit you,” Yelena points out and Layla shakes her head. 

“Kid, I’m going to be honest with you,” Layla’s tone is serious as she reaches out to grip Yelena’s other hand as well. “You scare the shit out of me. You look like you’re a baby but you’re actually an assassin, apparently the best child assassin, and you have a lot of red in your ledger.” 

Yelena shrinks in on herself more with each word. She didn’t want Layla to be afraid of her. 

“But, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your friend. I’ve grown attached to you since you stumbled into my apartment covered in blood and I don’t tend to let things I’ve grown attached to go,” Layla lets go of Yelena’s hand, instead reaching up to run her thumb along a scar on the side of Yelena’s head by her hairline before cupping the side of her face. “I want you safe.” 

Yelena’s stomach twists uncomfortably because it had been so long since someone had said that to her. Khonshu wanted that for her too but he wouldn’t tell her that because he was a grumpy God. Yelena poked fun at him all the time for it. “I…” Yelena tries not to lean into the hand on her face. “I want you to promise that back to me.” 

“Two vows then,” Layla nods her head, easily agreeing to Yelena’s terms. “Come here.” 

Yelena finds herself liking Layla’s hugs. Khonshu didn’t hug her. He would grip her shoulder, loom over her protectively, and even drape his cape over her like a shield to let her melt into the shadows. But to be held close in someone’s arms, pressed into their warmth as they delicately cradle the back of your head to their chest is something different altogether and Yelena craves more of it. 

Yelena’s eyes burn and she fights back tears. She shouldn’t be crying over a hug, that’s pathetic. 

“You’re a good kid, Yelena,” Layla mumbles into her ear and Yelena lets out a choked laugh. 

“Not a kid,” She murmurs into Layla’s shoulder but Layla doesn’t listen to her. Khonshu called her ‘child’ but she figured that was because he was thousands of years old and she was practically an infant compared to that. But Layla was in her late twenties to early thirties, Yelena didn’t really know, she didn’t do any research on Layla out of her respect for Tawaret. 

Still, she thinks back to when Natasha used to tease her, holding the last piece of candy above Yelena’s head and calling her ‘little one’ , even when Yelena would protest that she was a big girl now. Natasha had said that she’d always be her little one. 

“Come on,” Layla pulls away. “I’ll find us a knife.”

Yelena produces one of her own and Layla lets out a laugh. 

“Why am I not surprised?” Layla reaches out to take it, dragging it along the palm of her hand. Yelena takes it and drags it across her own, reaching out to join hands with Layla and make another vow. 

“Gonna tell me why you’re hiding in here yet?” 

Natasha peers over to where Maria was looking up from her desk to where she was laying across the couch in her office. “No.” 

Maria lets out a sigh, putting her pen down and turning in her chair to face Natasha. “What happened? Clint reported about the chase and we confirmed that she was likely a child soldier.” 

Natasha turns her head to peer up at the ceiling. “I think I know her.” 

Maria was quiet for a few moments before she lets out a sigh. “You think or you know?” 

“I think. Something-- something about her is familiar. She-- she looked at me and I saw her face and…” Natasha trails off, remembering the startling youth of the girl. 

“Are you compromised?” Maria inquired and Natasha’s fingers curl into a fist. 

“No.” Natasha replies but she’s unsure. If Maria picks up on her lie then she doesn’t mention it. 

“Are you going to be able to complete the mission?” Maria asked and Natasha’s stomach twists uncomfortably. 

“She’s a child.” The protest falls from Natasha’s lips before she can help it, betraying the distance she had just assured Maria she had. 

“She’s a murderer. She’s killed our agents,” Maria reminds her and Natasha lets out a huff. 

“I know that.” She turns to peer over at Maria. “I did too.” 

Maria lets out a deep sigh, leaning back in her chair. “You want to bring her in.” 

“I want to give her a second chance like Clint did for me,” Natasha admits. 

“You’ve never expressed an interest with any of the other assassins we’ve come across,” Maria points out. “You’re too close to the situation. She’s a Widow.” 

“She’s probably lost. She’s a child that doesn’t know how to function in the real world after the fall of the Red Room. How else is she going to survive? I just--” Natasha sits up, turning to face Maria. “If I can’t bring her in then I’ll do it personally. But she doesn’t need to be taken out.”

Maria tilts her head to the side, eyeing her closely. Natasha hates that she can’t get a good read on her. 

“Fine. You’ll get the chance to try and bring her in next time provided that she doesn’t kill any more agents in the meantime,” Maria barters and Natasha ensures that she doesn’t know the rush of relief flooding through her. 

She was almost positive that she knew the girl. More than just as a Widow of the Red Room. She thinks of the shirt and how she knew that smell. She knew that face. Her memories of the Red Room weren’t the best, especially after she went through deprogramming, but she’s tired of little girls dying. If she can get White Knight to defect from whatever hit jobs she’s been taking then Natasha can help her. 

She just needs a chance. 

Chapter Text

Yelena falls asleep on the couch that night, her palm stinging from where she cut it on the knife. She didn’t want to heal it like the first vow. This vow was different and Yelena wanted to remember that it was real. The stinging reminded her that Layla promised to help her find her sister when everything was alright. 

Yelena falls asleep as some movie Layla insisted they watch played on the television. Layla had been sitting at Yelena’s feet as she lay across the couch, still tired from being revived. She never really questioned how long Khonshu would pilot her body around and wondered if he would make sure she was nearly one hundred percent better before giving her back control, unlike Osiris. 

But Layla gives her another hoodie and a blanket and the lights are out and for some reason Yelena feels safe enough to sleep. 

She has a dream that is familiar but at the same time feels wrong. There’s a knife in her abdomen and she’s surrounded by bodies and she’s filled with the fear of death, the temple cold and damp. She’s been here hundreds of times before, she’s relived her death and the start of her new life. 

But she doesn’t crumple under the weight of the blade. It doesn’t hurt and Yelena doesn’t have to finish killing the man before he falls under what would have been Yelena’s killing blow. It’s all wrong and fear creeps across Yelena’s back. 

She pulls the knife from her side, frowning at the lack of blood gushing out as usual. She takes a careful step forward, her brow furrowing when she doesn’t buckle under the pain and blood loss that she remembered. 

Yelena moves up to the steps where she’s peering up at Khonshu’s statue. The statue is still lit up by that ray of moonlight and Yelena swallows hard before she lowers herself to her knees in front of it. 

She figures that praying in front of his shrine can’t hurt anything. She dips her head down and basks in the warm glow of the moonlight and prays. 

A familiar feeling of security washes over her and she hears the sound of a rustle. She jerks up, spinning around so hard she stumbles back onto her butt. 

“Khonshu…” She breathes out with wide eyes as she stares up at her God as he loomed over her in a way that had never failed to make her feel protected. “Are you-- are you real?” She demands, afraid of the answer she would receive. 

“I do not have much time, my child,” Khonshu tells her, ducking his head down, and the sound of his familiar rumble has tension bleeding out of Yelena’s shoulders. “I apologize for my disappearance.” 

“Where are you?” Yelena demands, pulling herself up to her feet quickly and moves forward. Her fingers graze the material of his cloak and she realizes that he’s really real. “You left me.” 

“I need your help, my child,” Khonshu grips her shoulder, his hand covers her back and Yelena resists the urge to lean into it because this isn’t Khonshu comforting her when she’s distressed, this is Khonshu needing her. “You must find the avatar of Apep and when the moon is high in the sky, you must deliver a killing blow.” 

Yelena is trying to take in the new information being told to her. “Where have you been?” She repeats. “I’ve met their avatar, they tried to kill me.” She tugs at her shirt to show the scar off before frowning when she realizes that she’s dreaming and her body is different. “I went to the Gods, the avatar of Tawaret helped me call a meeting. They killed me trying to call for you. I don’t know where you’ve been--” 

Yelena falls quiet when he tightens his grip. “You must focus, Yelena.” He rumbles and the sound of her first name has Yelena jolting at the seriousness of the situation. “Find the avatar. Kill her under the moon. Call for me. Do you understand?” 

Yelena nods her head. “Find the avatar of Apep. Kill her when the moon is out. Pray for you.” She has so many questions but she knows that she will not get any answers from him. 

Khonshu crouches down, one bandaged hand moving to cup the side of her face. “I believe in you, my avatar. The road has been rough but I have not abandoned you. You are mine, forever now and always.” 

His words wash over her with a sense of relief and Yelena leans into the large hand. “I have missed you, Khonshu.” She breathes out. Here she feels safer than ever and she doesn’t want to leave. He wanted her to know that he didn’t abandon her. He’s still there. 

“You are my warrior of the night. There was never any doubt that you will do what needs to be done,” Khonshu pulls away and straightens and Yelena nearly stumbles in an attempt to follow the touch she so desperately missed. “If Apep should manage to gain the upper hand, if our connection is severed, you are to stay with Tawaret.” 

Fear jolts through Yelena. “I don’t--” 

“You will be safe with her.” Khonshu continues, tapping his staff. “She will look after you.” He inclines his head as if Yelena was a child that needed looking after and not a twenty-year-old desperate for him to not leave her. 

“But she won’t--” Yelena starts, falling silent when Khonshu taps her hand with his staff to bring it up for him to see. The unhealed gash across her palm showing her vow with Layla has him inclining his head as if he knew that Yelena had been with Tawaret and her avatar. She wonders if Khonshu knew exactly what had been happening. He turns to leave. 

“I need you!” Yelena can’t help but lurch forward to grab onto him as he turns. “You can’t leave me!” 

“It is I that needs you, my child,” Khonshu spoke quietly. “My avatar. My warrior. My White Knight.” His staff taps her wrist and a burning pain stings her skin, making her let go. With that, he disappears, slipping through Yelena’s fingers like sand as he melts into the shadows and Yelena is alone again. 

Yelena is desperate for a reminder that he’s there. “Khonshu?” She whispers. The feeling of safety and security that had come with him is gone. 

Yelena jerks awake on the couch, gasping for air as she peers around wildly. 

“Woah-- hey, it’s okay, you’re safe,” Layla is there, holding her hands out. She looked like she had fallen asleep on the couch as well, her hair was frizzy and eyes were bleary.

“Khonshu?” Yelena mumbled, scanning the room for any sign of her God. Her wrist itches and she scratches at it, noticing the odd feeling on her skin. She pushes up the sleeve of the hoodie and stares down at black ink now on her skin in the form of a crescent moon. 

Yelena stares down at the new mark on her wrist, running her fingers along the weird texture on her scarred skin. The ink doesn’t rub away.

“What is that?” Layla questioned leaning forward to inspect the new mark with a frown.

“A sign from my God,” Yelena breathed out, new determination running through her. It was real. It really was Khonshu. He hadn’t abandoned her. “I have a new mission. I need your help.”

“You have it.” Layla replies without hesitation. Yelena glances at her, wondering if Tawaret knew of the conversation she held with Khonshu. 

It didn’t matter though. Yelena was going to help Khonshu and have him come back. He would come back and protect her and keep her safe just as he always did. 

He can’t leave like everybody else. It’s not fair. Yelena just wants someone who will stay. He is her God and she is his child, his avatar, his warrior, his White Knight. 

She needs him. She needs to be needed, she needs to be wanted. If she’s no use to anyone then there is no point in keeping her around. 

She knows that. She tries so hard to prove that she’s worth keeping but it’s hard and tiring. She promised to help Layla. They have vows to follow through. But when everything is done, Layla will leave.

It’s a pattern. It’s what happens. Everyone leaves sooner or later. 

Yelena has gotten used to that. 

Chapter Text

It’s the middle of the night and Layla is making hot cocoa on the stove, Yelena slumped in on herself as she sits on the counter to wait. Layla had told her that they needed a warm drink before they talked and Yelena obliged, waiting patiently. 

Layla sneaks glances at the kid, watching as she runs her thumb along the new mark on her wrist. Layla figured that it was a reassurance that her God hadn’t abandoned her. That didn’t mean that Layla liked him any more than before, Yelena had literally died when he wasn’t there. 

“Is Tawaret here?” Yelena’s voice startled Layla slightly. She paused, turning to glance over her shoulder. 

“No. But she can be,” Layla frowned, watching Yelena stare down at her arm. “Do you need her?” 

Ever since the kid woke up, she’s been spacey. Layla thinks that seeing her God impacted her more than it should have. Yelena is irritating the skin around the black ink on her wrist from how much she’s rubbing at the skin as if it’ll wipe away like a cruel joke. 

“Not immediately,” Yelena slowly shakes her head. Her eyes are fixated on the tattoo, her lips pursed as she pops her thumb into her mouth to get it wet and then rubs at it a little harder. 

Layla focuses on finishing up the hot cocoa, dumping a handful of marshmallows before she slides it in front of Yelena. “Here you go. Just what you need.” The yawn slips from her mouth before she can help herself. 

Yelena wrapped her fingers around the mug and just spends a few moments absorbing the warmth. Layla sips on her own, her eyes sliding shut at the sweet taste. The kitchen was quiet as they sipped on their drinks. 

Surprisingly, Yelena finishes first, draining the mug and setting it down before she delves into what had happened. She waited to finish her drink, just as Layla had asked, so Layla leans on the counter with her half-finished mug and listened. 

It’s a little morbid and a lot concerning when Yelena details her very first death. She skims over it mostly but the way she lists how there wasn’t any pain or how she didn’t have to kill anyone was concerning. When Yelena finished, she looked up at Layla. 

Layla has a few questions, mainly about Khonshu, but all that manages to leave her mouth is, “do you dream about your death often?” 

Yelena blinks at her a few times as if she hadn’t expected that question and to be fair, Layla didn’t mean to ask it. 

“Only the first one,” The kid shrugged as if it was no big deal that she was reliving her death constantly in her dreams. “It usually turns out okay. Khonshu is always there when I wake up and he’ll keep me calm.” 

Layla frowned. “Does--” She starts to ask about if Khonshu knows that she is having night terrors about dying but Yelena cuts her off. 

“Is Tawaret here?” She asked again and Layla shakes her head. 

“Tawaret.” She called out, glancing to where her Goddess liked to linger. Tawaret gives her a wide smile when she sees her. 

“That’s me!” She gives a little bow. Layla nodded toward the kid and Tawaret turned toward her. 

Yelena turned when she saw Layla looking at Tawaret. Yelena is looking up into the air at the Goddess, a little unsure of where she stood and Layla has to admit that she has pretty good judgment but she’s looking a little higher than Tawaret’s head. 

“Tawaret,” Yelena greets her, her voice soft and polite. “Were you able to hear what Khonshu told me regarding you?” 

It was the first that Layla was hearing about Khonshu mentioning her patron. 

“No,” Tawaret frowned slightly. “Is everything okay?” 

“She’s confused,” Layla supplies for Yelena, waiting for Yelena to explain. 

Yelena sets the mug down, sliding off of the chair, and bends slightly in a bow. Layla straightens at the formal move, watching as Tawaret’s face softens with worry. “Khonshu asked that you look after me should anything happen to him. He said you will keep me safe and you will look after me.” 

Layla’s heart sinks at the words. Did Khonshu not know what would happen to Yelena if he left her? The kid was barely holding on without him but after her meeting with the Gods, it became clear that without the support of Khonshu, Yelena may very well possibly die. Khonshu brought her back from the dead. Did he know what leaving will do? Was he okay with that? How could he put that on her? 

“Easy there, my little scarab,” Tawaret is suddenly in front of her, her hands framing Layla’s face. “Breathe.” 

Layla blinks a few times, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She’s going to freak out the kid and she doesn’t want to do that. “Sorry.” She hadn’t even noticed herself spiral. 

“Drink,” Tawaret urged and Layla reached toward the lukewarm mug of cocoa still in front of her. The sweetness helps ground her a little. 

“I’m sorry,” She repeats again, this time to Yelena. The kid is watching her with a frown, looking like she wants to do something to help but is unsure of what. “I’m okay. Just… get stuck in my own head sometimes.” 

Yelena gives her a knowing nod. “I do too.” 

“What… what do you do when it happens?” Layla asked curiously. Yelena shuffled around the counter to stand next to her. 

“Khonshu usually helps,” Yelena slowly reaches out to set a hand on her shoulder. Layla tries not to laugh at how unsure Yelena looked at providing comfort. “I like it when he taps his staff against the ground. Sometimes he’ll show me constellations or he’ll have me transcribe hieroglyphs.” 

“And that helps?” Layla frowns slightly. Tawaret had never done anything like that for her but she also hadn’t gone through the things that Yelena had. 

“Yes. It gives me something to focus on. A reminder that he is there.” Yelena smiles slightly. “I like it when he looms over me like a shield. He’s always watching from the corners and he’s there without me needing to call most of the time.”

Khonshu sounded more involved in Yelena’s life than Tawaret was with hers. “How often do you see him?” 

“All the time,” Yelena’s smile dropped into a scowl. “Until recently.”

That reminded Layla of what she had interrupted. She glanced over at Tawaret to see what her Goddess had to say about what Yelena had told her. 

Tawaret looked deep in thought, her eyes watching them closely. “Layla, can I take over for a moment?” 

Layla straightened slightly, nodding her head before looking down at Yelena. “Tawaret wants to talk to you.” 

Yelena straightened as well, nodding her head. 

Layla shivered when Tawaret steps closer and into her frame. She watches as Tawaret immediately takes a step toward Yelena. 

“Do not fear, little one,” Tawaret hums, cupping Yelena’s face with Layla’s hands. “It would be my honor to look after you.” 

“I’m not a child that needs looking after,” Yelena immediately pulled away from Tawaret’s hands, her face turning red in anger. 

“Yelena, Khonshu entrusted you with me,” Tawaret doesn’t let Yelena pull away, grabbing her hand. “Do you know what it means for a God to trust another God with their avatar?” 

Yelena paused, looking down at their clasped hands. “No…” She said slowly. 

Tawaret smiles at her, the bandaged slice on Layla’s hand lining up with the one on Yelena’s. “You would be my avatar should something happen to him.” 

“You already have an avatar,” Yelena pointed out. “And I’m not taking you away from Layla.” 

“There have been cases where Gods are allowed to have multiple avatars. This would be one,” Tawaret tucks a strand of hair out of Yelena’s face. “I promise you, Yelena Belova, Avatar of Khonshu, that shall your God break your connection that you will be mine.” 

Yelena’s eyes grow wide at the promise from a Goddess. Her breath hitched, her lower lip wobbling for a second and Layla thought that she might cry. Yelena instead clenched her jaw, swallowing hard, and gives a tiny nod. 

Tawaret lets out a chuckle. “You do a lot of good. You help a lot of women and children. I hear their prayers. I hear their thanks. I have heard a lot about you, White Widow. White Knight. They thank me for sending you.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Yelena croaked out. 

“You shouldn’t accuse Gods of lying, little one,” Tawaret chides with an amused hum. “You are worth more than what they made you.” 

“I am a killer,” Yelena whispered. “My ledger is dripping with red. I’ve killed-- I’ve killed a lot of women and children.” 

“You were but a child yourself,” Tawaret tenderly brushed her hand over Yelena’s cheek. “Killing is a necessary evil. One life for dozens. A warrior of the night indeed.” 

“I am not a good person,” Yelena looked so sure of the fact. 

“Weighing your heart on the Scales of Justice proves different,” Tawaret reminded her before pulling away. “You are worthy, Yelena Belova. Do not let anyone tell you different.” 

“Wait--” Yelena reached out but Tawaret leaves Layla. Layla stumbled forward, crashing into Yelena. Yelena catches her, holding her up. “Close your eyes and hold your breath for a few seconds, it helps.” She spoke to Layla. 

Layla does so, gripping onto Yelena as she gets used to the abrupt control thrust back into her grasp. It helps a lot more than the past times when Tawaret had taken control. “Does Khonshu take control of you often?” 

“Each time I die. He’ll take my body somewhere safe,” Yelena nods her head. Layla paused at that, unaware that Gods could just… take over dead bodies. She pulled away, straightening up and finishing the rest of the cocoa from her mug that had since gone cold. 

“So. You mentioned a new mission from your God. What are our first steps?” She questioned. 

Yelena blinked up at her a few times. “I’m leading?” 

“It’s your mission,” Layla points out, wondering if she was missing something. 

“You don’t care if you’re being led by someone who looks like a child?” Yelena eyed her suspiciously. 

“I trust you,” Layla shrugs, wondering if she said something wrong when Yelena tensed up. “This is your God. I trust you know what to do first.” 

Yelena slowly nods before she takes a deep breath, drawing herself up. “Okay. First step is to track down the avatar of Apep and then follow her. The next full moon is in…” She paused as she counts and Layla can see her confident demeanor falter. “Twelve days. He said when the moon was out but a full moon should help more… right?” 

“He’s your God, Yelena. Not mine,” Layla said apologetically. 

“He said when it was high in the sky. Midnight on a full moon,” Yelena runs her thumb along the mark on her wrist. “We have plenty of time but a small window of opportunity.” 

“So what’s first?” Layla asked. Yelena takes a few moments to think.

“I have to go look at some magazines,” She replies. The answer makes no sense to Layla but she trusts the kid to know what she was doing. 

“Let’s go then.” 

Chapter Text

First thing was first, Yelena needed more supplies before she actually went to track down Apep’s avatar. She had never taken someone back to her safehouse with the knowledge that they would leave alive. She wasn’t exactly known for being neat in her safehouse, even if Widows were taught not to leave traces. 

Layla doesn’t enter too far into her safehouse nor does she snoop through her things but she does watch as Yelena rifles through her bag. Yelena plucked out a fresh change of clothes and stepped into the bathroom. She doesn’t want to admit that she liked the softness of Layla’s hoodie, it was slightly big and well-loved, leaving it comforting and soft. But It was impractical and not hers so Yelena folded it and changed into a new shirt and a pair of leggings. She missed the shirt that she had left with Hawkeye but it was a necessary sacrifice. 

Yelena returned to the main room and then started preparing weapons. She wasn’t oblivious to the way that Layla’s eyes linger on the holster she secured to her thigh. 

“Do you really need a gun?” Layla finally questioned, holding her hands up in defense when Yelena twisted to look at her. “I’m not saying that you can’t use it or anything, I believe that you can. I’m just wondering why you can’t use the weapons that your suit provides for you.” 

Yelena counts ammunition as she thinks of the answer she wanted to give. “Despite how often I have stayed in the suit around you, I don’t really use it in the field. It is a last resort. I summon it when I am dying.” She murmured. 

She could feel Layla’s stare and finally dared to glance up at her. She raised an eyebrow at the shock on Layla’s face as well as the confusion. “I was raised to know my way around guns and knives. I’ve been shooting for nearly fifteen years,” Yelena explained with a sigh, shoving her gun into the holster. “The suit is… new-ish. It’s unpredictable and I never know when I’m not going to be able to call for it. I don’t want to rely on it.” 

Layla, however, didn’t understand. “Your God gave you a suit that will protect you and you reject his gift?” She sounded in disbelief and Yelena rolled her eyes, straightening up. “If Tawaret--” 

“My God is not Tawaret!” Yelena hissed, turning to look at her. “My God is Khonshu and if you cannot respect me or my choices then you can leave!” Yelena doesn’t realize that she has a tight grip on one of her knives until she sees how tense Layla is. “Shit.” She spits, throwing the knife onto the ground. 

She doesn’t want to scare Layla. She likes Layla and she wants her to stick around but if Yelena drives her off before their vows can be completed then things were going to go to shit. 

“I never meant any disrespect,” Layla finally spoke. “I’m sorry for upsetting you. I respect you and your God. This is your home, I have no right to come in and judge you.” 

“This is a safehouse, not a home. I don’t have a home.” Yelena grumbled, turning her attention toward her bags. “Do you want a weapon?”

“Uh… no. Thank you,” Layla said a little awkwardly but Yelena slips an extra knife into her boot for Layla anyway. Yelena digs a little deeper into her bag for her favorite butterfly knife when her hand slipped and the bag rolled off the bed before she could catch it, papers fluttering out and littering the floor. 

“Shit,” Yelena dives to try and collect up all of the clippings she had of Natasha, hunching in on herself when Layla approached and crouched down to help her. She waits for Layla to call her creepy or a stalker or some other unfavorable name. Yelena is ready with a barbed retort when Layla finally spoke. 

“You must miss her a lot,” Layla comments softly and the response died in Yelena’s mouth as she watched Layla inspect one of the articles she had saved. 

“Yeah…” Yelena replied dumbly. She looked down at the stack of papers in her hands, brushing her thumb over the inked grinning face of her big sister. “I do.” 

Layla holds out the papers she had collected to Yelena and Yelena reached out to accept them, ensuring that none of them were even more crinkled than they already were before she carefully tucked them back into her bag. 

“I like you, Layla El-Faouly,” Yelena comments aloud, feeling Layla’s confused glance. “I don’t want to get you killed.” 

“You won’t,” Layla said with such certainty but Yelena shakes her head, turning toward her and looking up at her face. 

“I brought you into this the moment that I came to you. You were never obligated to owe me anything, you still don’t,” Yelena lets out a huff. “I won’t blame you if at any moment you decide it is too much and want to dip. You can leave, no bad feelings.” 

“We have a vow. Quite a few,” Layla reminded her, waving her healing palm. “I can’t.” 

“Your patron has yet to teach you more about vows since we have made them then,” Yelena can’t blame Tawaret. She just never realized how hands-on Khonshu was with her teachings until she met other avatars who didn’t know jack shit. “You can break vows on neutral terms and neither party will be harmed for doing so.” 

“I’m not breaking our vow,” Layla seemed offended that Yelena would even suggest such a thing. “Kid--” 

“Don’t--” Yelena interrupts harshly. She takes a few moments to gather her words, her chest heaving harshly. “I-- I have lost too many people for you to make meaningless promises to me. I refuse to let you die for me. Swear to me that you won’t die for me.” 

“I’m not making another vow--” Layla started to say when Yelena shakes her head, interrupting her. 

“I don’t want a vow, I want you to swear as who you are as a person, that you will not die for me. Give me your word,” Yelena demanded, folding her arms. She knows that it’s unfair of her to ask but she refuses to let anyone else die for her. She can’t tether another person to her, she doesn’t want that. “Please…” She finished quietly. 

Layla stares at her for a few moments, searching for something Yelena isn’t privy to before nodding. “Okay. I give my word as Layla El-Faouly that I will not die for you.” 

“Good.” Yelena gives a curt nod, some part of her chest unclenching at her words. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?” 

“No," Layla blinked at the sudden change in subject. "Uh … my dad was killed with a gun. I’m not a big fan of them,” Layla admits and Yelena frowned slightly. 

“Come here,” Yelena beckoned Layla over and when she was near, she pulled her gun out of the holster. Layla tenses up almost immediately but Yelena doesn't do anything other than holding it in her hand. “My gun holds seventeen rounds. This right here is the safety. On. Off.” Yelena demonstrates. 

“Yelena…” Layla starts off uncertainly. 

“I’m not going to make you use it. But it is better to know and not need it than to need it and not know,” Yelena glanced up at Layla to ensure that she was still listening. “Do you understand?” When Layla nods, Yelena continued. “Never put your finger on the trigger unless you are prepared to pull it. When you aim, aim for the torso.” 

“Not the head?” Layla asked with a small frown, watching Yelena’s fingers on the gun. 

“No. If you’ve never handled a gun before then a headshot is likely to miss unless you’ve got the gun pressed right against their head. Aim for the torso, bigger target,” Yelena explained, reaching out to poke spots on Layla’s body. “If you can, aim for here, here, or here.” 

“Will those kill them?” Layla inquired and Yelena paused, forgetting for a moment that Layla wasn’t a Widow but a woman who doesn’t have as much blood on her hands as Yelena. 

“Yes. When you fight, you want to win. That means keeping your opponent down and keeping yourself up…” Yelena looked up at her. “No matter what.” 

“No matter what,” Layla echoed uncharacteristically quietly. “Can I hold it?” Her sudden question takes Yelena off guard but Yelena nods and transfers the gun from her hand to Layla’s. “It’s heavier than what I thought.” 

Yelena shrugs slightly, unsure of what to say to that. Layla finally holds it back out to her and Yelena takes it. 

“So, what’s next on the agenda?” Layla questioned as Yelena returned the gun to her holster. 

“I’m going back to where I first met her,” Yelena replied, finally zipping up the duffel bag and turning her attention to Layla. “And hope that she returns again. She sought me out the first time, I just need her to do it again.”

“How are so you sure that she’ll turn up?” Layla inquired curiously, not judging Yelena’s choice in plan.

“Her God wants me dead,” Yelena explained simply. “And when God’s want something…” 

“They will send their avatars out to do it,” Layla finished with a knowing nod. “What do you need me to do?” 

Yelena holds up a small round disk. “This is a tracker. No matter what, I need you to get it somewhere on her.”

Layla accepts it with a firm nod, knowing that Yelena could take care of the rest herself. “I got it.” 

It feels weird for Yelena to have a partner other than Khonshu. She’s had Khonshu at her side for each mission she had gone on for the past five years. She trusted him with her life and to have her back. Khonshu could take care of himself, she never had to worry about looking out for him in the field. 

Layla is new to being an avatar, she doesn’t know how to shoot a gun and she’s killed very few people but she is kind and she is good. Yelena would protect her. 

She wonders with morbid curiosity if vows between avatars would be considered broken if one avatar died.

She’d have to ask Khonshu when he came back. He knew all the answers to anything Yelena wanted to know regarding avatars. She runs her thumb along the black ink on her wrist as she walked with Layla to the store, Layla’s hoodie finding its way over her again to hide the gun strapped to her thigh. 

She finds that she doesn’t mind the way that Layla’s arm draped over her shoulder as they walked. 

Yup. Yelena was going to protect her. No matter what. 

Chapter Text

Yelena stood in front of the row of magazines and newspapers, one of the magazines open in her hands as she stared down at the inside, her eyes running along words but not taking them in. Her focus was on her surroundings, merely waiting for the avatar to appear. 

Yelena picks her way through the magazines slowly, feeling less and less confident with each one she idly flicks through. The avatar had looked so normal that Yelena hadn’t expected anything the last time they met. She was wearing sweatpants and her hair was falling out of a bun, but Yelena had let herself be fooled by the appearance. 

The woman that steps up next to her this time was in business casual, a freshly pressed blouse with a deep gray pencil skirt. “How I have missed you, my dear.” She comments, plucking a newspaper from the rack and unfolding it. “So glad to see you here.” 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Yelena turned the page of her magazine. “You’ve kept me waiting.” She glanced at her. “That’s rude, you know.” 

The woman lets out a chuckle. “I suppose that is. You’ll have to let me make it up to you.” She folded the newspaper back up neatly, slinging her arm around Yelena’s shoulders just as she did the previous time. “Still just the same baby.” She pinched Yelena’s cheek. 

“You know who I am but I still haven’t heard a name from you. That’s also very rude,” Yelena commented, closing the magazine and swatting at the woman’s hand with it. 

The woman smiles at her, patting her cheek like a child. “You may call me Nour.” She said. Yelena stood still and let the woman get handsy with her like she was a young child. “Now, I do believe that we have a reservation.” 

Yelena can tell by the way Nour holds herself that she is not an expert assassin, she was not raised in violence and bloodshed. Nour thought herself powerful and infallible. Yelena suspected that she thought her status as an avatar made her higher than anyone and with her God's support then she was able to do whatever she would like. 

Nour leads Yelena outside and Yelena followed obediently, glancing at where Layla was blending in only to not see the head of frizzy brown hair. She had expected Nour to take her out back and try to stab her again but instead, the woman walks them down the sidewalk. Yelena lets herself be led, unaware of the secondary location they were going to but prepared nevertheless. 

“So,” Yelena started, wondering just how far she could push before she got under the woman’s skin. “You know me but I don’t know of you. How long have you been an avatar?” 

Nour raised an eyebrow at her as if she couldn’t believe that audacity Yelena had for making small talk while kinda being abducted. Even if it wasn’t really an abduction and the only reason Yelena hadn’t made the final kill was that she had to wait for the next full moon. 

“I just didn’t know that your patron had an avatar,” Yelena continued. “I mean, what use are you to him if he can kill me himself in just my sleep? He didn’t even have to lift a finger. What does he need you for?” 

Nour clenched her jaw and Yelena spots her opening. “I mean, my patron doesn’t do anything himself, he uses me to do it for him. I am his to use and serve until my final death.” Yelena focused on the road, ensuring that she memorized where they were going. “He will dispose of me when I am no longer useful, just as all Gods do.”

The woman lets out a laugh, a little too high to be genuine. “Not mine.” She denied, her fingernails digging into Yelena’s shoulders. 

“Is that what he told you?” Yelena inquired, peering up at Nour with a sympathetic smile. “You must be very new at this then.” She knows that some Gods can be cold and cruel. Khonshu was not but Yelena needed to keep Nour second-guessing just long enough to be able to strike her while she was weak. “Do you think that they actually care about us avatars?” 

“Yours must if he brought you back from the dead,” Nour spoke as they reached a very nice hotel. Yelena braces herself for a fight behind closed doors, hating that she wouldn’t be able to use her gun in the enclosed space. “He protects you. He keeps you immortal.” 

“Everything was for his own benefit. I was already trained, I do his bidding without a fight, I will do whatever he wants without a question. He doesn’t want to go through the trouble of finding and training another one,” Yelena doesn’t really mean her words, she knows that Khonshu really did want her. He chose her, even if it was only because she came to him first. 

Nour leads her into the elevator, pressing the button for the sixteenth floor. “He must like them young.” She merely comments and Yelena blinks at the odd statement, glancing up at the woman standing next to her in the elevator. 

“Despite my looks, I am not a child,” Yelena commented, ensuring to keep her usual frustration and anger from her tone. 

“But you are,” The woman hummed, glancing down at her with a sympathetic smile as if Yelena really was a young innocent child. “You do not know much about human bodies, do you, little one?” 

Yelena bristled at the name. Only Natasha would ever be able to call her that. “I know enough.” She grunts. 

“The child that never ages, that is what my God called you,” Nour pushed Yelena out of the elevator when the doors opened, guiding her down the hallway. “Do you know what my profession is?” 

“What?” Yelena indulges her, watching as they stop in front of the door at the very far end of the hallway. 

Nour hummed, sliding a keycard through the slot and pushing open the door. “I have dealt with plenty of brats like you.” She doesn’t go further into it. “Do you know what you all have in common?” Nour pushed Yelena through the door and into the immaculately clean hotel room. 

“What?” Yelena irritably questioned again, feeling out of place standing in the very fancy and very expensive hotel room. She’s been in one many times before but almost always it was to seduce and kill. A cold feeling creeps through her as she hears Nour lock the door. 

“You are all impulsive. You don’t think things through. You are immature and childish. You crave acceptance and you long to fit in,” Nour moved behind her, wrapping her arms around Yelena’s waist to pull her body flush against hers. “You so desperately want approval.” 

Yelena tries not to get lost in her head. She expects to hear Khonshu ordering her to snap out of it or to grab her wrist and tug her forward just enough to break the hold for Yelena to retaliate. But he’s not here and Yelena is frozen in place. 

“Your God does not give you what you need,” Nour continued, swaying side to side and forcing Yelena’s body to rock with her. “My God cherishes me just as yours should be.” Nour’s lips brush against Yelena’s ear. “You are a gift to them.”

Yelena focuses on forcing herself to breathe. “I do not need to be cherished.” She manages to calmly reply. “I live to serve my God and nothing more.” 

“My God would cherish you,” Nour whispered, her lips pressing against Yelena’s cheek. “He would give you whatever you needed. He would never, ever dare to leave you alone and vulnerable like your God.” 

“Your God has you,” Yelena finally pushed herself forward further into the room and Nour lets her go. 

“He can have both of us. As soon as your God is taken care of, you would be his too. You could serve him and he would treasure you the way that you deserve,” Nour stepped further into the room and toward Yelena again. “I do not have to kill you. Not if you can be a good girl.” 

Yelena takes a carefully measured breath. “Gods do not inherit other avatars when they kill.” But she doesn’t know if that was the truth. Tawaret promised to take her in but what if she didn’t get the chance? Could Apep claim her as a prize like she was an object to be won? 

Nour clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Don’t they?” She gives Yelena a condescending smile. “Do not look so tense, little one. Me killing you is all water under the bridge. These sheets are much too nice to stain with blood.” 

“Do not call me ‘little one’,” Yelena said sharply because if Nour wanted to play nice then Yelena would see just how far that niceness would extend. 

“Of course. My apologies,” Nour sits at the small desk tucked in the corner, pulling out a small stack of papers. 

“If you did not bring me here to kill me then why?” Yelena had to admit that she didn’t expect the turn of events. She had been ready for a fight, the gun is still pressed against her thigh in its holster. “Will your God not get angry that you have disobeyed him?”

“Not when I bring him the child that never ages,” Nour’s lips quirk up in a grin. “You are a valuable tool. You are either with us or against us and if you are against us then…” She waves her hand. “You know what happens.” 

“I will not betray my God,” Yelena states, and the woman laughed as if she didn’t believe a word out of Yelena’s mouth. “You have yet to stand in front of the council. You do not understand how avatars and Gods work. Avatars do their God's bidding, not the other way around.” She folds her arms, watching the woman. 

“You will see. When your God is dead and you are ours then we will cherish you, show you what could need. You are a child. Mentally, emotionally, physically…” She flips through the papers in front of her. “Perhaps chronologically you are…” She paused, glancing at Yelena. 

“Twenty.” Yelena supplies because they both knew that. 

“Right. Twenty,” She holds up one of the pieces of paper. “This is you, yes?” 

Yelena stared down at the grainy image on the page, easily able to recognize the uniform she was wearing. However, she shook her head. “No.” She glanced back up at Nour because two people could play that game. 

“No?” Nour arched an eyebrow, holding the grainy image up right next to Yelena’s face as if it was a mugshot and not a grainy image of the back of her as she walked through a subway station. 

“That’s Khonshu,” Yelena answered only for Nour to stand and abruptly slap a hand over her mouth. Yelena resisted the urge to bite it merely because it wasn’t meant to strangle but only to muffle. 

“Do not speak his name here.” Nour hissed at her. Yelena swatted her hand off and Nour lets her. 

For a moment, Nour isn’t an enemy trying to kill her but a woman drunk on the power of what being an avatar means. It isn’t her fault that her God had lied to her. Nour was only doing what her God had asked, just as Yelena was. Their war was not with each other. 

“I will not join you or your God,” Yelena finally said before Nour got any twisted idea in her mind that there was even a chance. 

“Perhaps. I’ll change your mind,” Nour commented before holding out the stack of papers. “I see you. Just a scared child looking to be loved and accepted. A child needs to be looked after. Nurtured. Guided.” 

Yelena raised an eyebrow, hating just how small Nour was making her feel with each comment about her age. “And you are the person to do that? You killed me.” 

“Water under the bridge,” Nour reminded her and Yelena finally reached out to take the papers. “Think about it, sweetie.” 

Yelena peered down at the papers. She only gets a glimpse of the top one before she peered back up at Nour. “May I go then?” She doesn’t want a shootout and she can’t kill her just yet. Nour smiled and gestured toward the door. Yelena dares to turn her back, just waiting for an excuse to fight as she moved toward the door.

Nour lets her leave. 

Yelena stops just outside of the hotel and frisked herself for bugs, listening devices, and trackers. Nour didn’t seem smart enough to know how to utilize them but she could never be too careful. She tucked the stack of papers away to look at later.

She then turned on her foot and went back to the first location. She had to find Layla and figure out where exactly she had gone. 

Yelena catches a glimpse of her reflection in a shop window as she passes by. She paused, raised her hand up, and rubbed the lipstick mark off of her cheek. Nour was a fool for trying to play on Yelena’s youthful features. Yelena had everything she already needed in Khonshu. 

And now, with her God's untimely disappearance, she had Layla. 

And soon, if Layla keeps her vow, Yelena will have Natasha. 

That was enough.

Chapter Text

Layla was the one to track Yelena down first, appearing out of nowhere and draping an arm over her shoulder as she continued to lead Yelena down the path she had been taking. 

Yelena leaves her be for the moment, not wanting to act suspicious if something were amiss. She lets Layla walk her all the way back to her apartment and doesn’t speak until she had locked the door. 

“Where were you?” Yelena demanded, folding her arms as she looked up at Layla. “You were supposed to--” 

“I know, I know,” Layla interrupted and Yelena took stock of her, finally seeing how tense she was. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to leave you alone.” 

Yelena pursed her lips in thought before she huffed. “What happened?” She ordered. 

“We were being tailed by an Avenger,” Layla started before shaking her head. “Your sister.” 

Yelena faltered, dropping her arms. “What did she say?” She asked quietly. 

Layla grimaced slightly and Yelena knew that it wasn’t going to be good. “She knows that you’re White Knight,” the woman admitted. 

Yelena absorbs the information for a few moments. “Does… does she know that it’s me?” She inquired softly. 

“No. She was asking if you’re really my niece,” Layla gives her an apologetic look. Yelena doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. 

“And?” Yelena prompted, wanting to know what Layla told her. Layla grimaced again and Yelena frowned. 

“I said you were,” Layla confessed and Yelena took a deep breath to keep herself calm as Layla continued. “I wanted to give you a cover story and feigned ignorance.” 

“Okay.” Yelena nodded her head. 

“You’re not upset?” Layla questioned when Yelena didn't get angry with her. “I ditched you and I didn’t consult you. I made up a cover story on the spot--”

“Layla,” Yelena interrupted and Layla looked down at her. “You did what you had to do. What’s done is done. I will get the documents I need to back up your claims. Do you have any siblings?” 

“No, I was an only child,” Layla grimaced at the realization of her actions. 

“You were an only child as far as they know,” Yelena corrected, racking her brain for contacts she could reach out to for paperwork and documents. Posing as thirteen-year-old Dina El-Faouly would let her blend in easier. Yelena had never properly established a civilian identity. She wasn’t sure she ever had one except for Yelena Belova who had once lived in Ohio. “I’ll sort things out.” 

Yelena paused as she realized one thing and turned to Layla. “Did she touch you at all?” She asked. 

Layla blinked. “What?” She asked in confusion. 

“Natasha. Did she touch you at all, a bump or brush or even a touch of her fingers?” Yelena inquired and Layla frowned but nodded. Yelena stepped forward, her hands reaching out to immediately frisk Layla for bugs or listening devices. Layla lifted her arms and let Yelena pat her down. Yelena pulled away having not found anything. 

“How did it go with the avatar?” Layla inquired and Yelena stiffened in surprise when Layla did the same thing Yelena had done moments ago only she was looking for injuries instead of bugs. 

“Her name is Nour,” Yelena started as Layla looked for tears or blood on the clothes. “She’s… creepy.” 

“Creepy?” Layla frowned, pulling away to face Yelena. “Creepy how?” 

Yelena huffed, folding her arms. “She took me back to her hotel room and got handsy, trying to tell me that I was something to cherished by my God.” 

Layla stared at her for a few moments, an indiscernible look on her face before she reached out to gently grip Yelena’s shoulders, the movement startling her. “What happened? Did she touch you?” When she sees Yelena’s slightly confused face, because Yelena already said she got handsy, Layla clarified. “Sexually.” 

Layla’s voice is soft and gentle, concern in her eyes, and Yelena was confused. “No. I didn’t have to do that. I don’t think she actually wanted to fuck me,” her words have Layla flinching slightly. “I think she was trying to go a more…” Yelena tries to find the word to put Nour’s actions and body language into words. “Maternal route? She was playing on my youth.”

“Maternal?” Layla echoed in confusion. 

“Her God calls me the child that never ages,” Yelena continued, frowning as she looked away from Layla to focus on a spot on the wall as she spoke once again, “She called me a child physically, mentally, and emotionally.” Yelena had never considered the ramifications of being frozen in the body that she died in. It made undercover work easier but it made surviving harder. “She offered me a chance to switch sides. She didn’t try to kill me.” Yelena finally pulled out the pieces of paper from her sweatshirt. “She gave me these.”

“What is it?” Layla questioned, reaching out to take the papers from her. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t look at them, I was looking for you,” Yelena answered, regretting it when Layla winced, guilt flickering over her face. Layla spread the stack out on the kitchen table and Yelena’s face soured. 

There were printed images of Yelena. Dozens of photos, mostly of the back of Yelena’s head or her shoulder as she turned a corner. Judging by the clothes and dates stamped on some of the photos, they had been watching her for nearly a year. 

Yelena scowled. She sifted through the papers, observing each and everyone one of them, and tried to decipher which ones were just Khonshu piloting her body. 

“Why would she give you this? “Layla questioned, picking up a piece of paper to inspect it. 

“A bribe,” Yelena comments, and Layla glanced at her. Perhaps Nour didn’t mean it as a bribe but that’s what it was. Nour wanted Yelena on her side, to show her that they’d been watching her. “The dates on this span a year. But only recently have they actually attempted to kill me.” It wasn’t adding up. Yelena tries to think of all the knowledge that she held about the other Gods but Khonshu usually wouldn’t tell her unless she asked. “You know a lot about the Egyptian Gods, don’t you?” 

“Yeah?” Layla sets down the piece of paper. “Why? What does that have to do with this?”

“Tell me about Apep,” Yelena can’t believe that it slipped her mind to even check. You had to know your enemy inside and out. She had been so focused on her own God and then about the woman who tried to kill her that everything else slipped her mind. 

Layla led Yelena over to her desk with the books stacked on them, sifting through them and stopping every so often to flip through one to see if it held what she was looking for. Finally, she held one book out to Yelena, the pages opened to reveal an image and description. 

Yelena took the book into her hands and peered down at it. She was staring at an image of a yellow snake, its torso coiled over and over to fit its long length on the page. It probably wasn’t an accurate depiction of the God but it was a start. The snake depiction caused the memory of Nour stabbing her to flicker to the front of her mind. Nour had used snake venom to poison Yelena, using what Yelena now interpreted to be two sharp mock fangs to inject it. 

Yelena turned her attention toward the other page. “Apep, also known as Apophis, was the ancient Egyptian spirit of evil, darkness, and destruction. He was the arch-enemy of the sun god, Ra, and was a malevolent force who could never entirely be vanquished. Every night, as the sun traveled through across the sky, his roar would fill the air and he would launch his attack…” 

Yelena paused, mulling over the text she had just read. She tilted her head to peer at Layla. “What have you heard of the sun god Ra?” When Layla started to recite quotes from books, Yelena shakes her head. “The actual God.” 

Layla shakes her head. “You’re the first avatar that I’ve ever interacted with. I haven’t dealt with any other avatars or Gods before. I haven’t asked either.” 

“Tawaret, does Ra have an avatar?” Yelena inquired, staring at Layla. Layla glanced around before giving Yelena an apologetic look. 

“She must be busy, she’s not here,” she said. Yelena frowned because Khonshu wouldn’t have hesitated to appear and answer her question. 

“Okay,” Yelena huffed, looking up at Layla as she pieces information together. “We have three Gods. Khonshu, Apep, and Ra. Khonshu is the God of the moon and vengeance. Apep is the God of evil, darkness, and destruction. Ra is the God of the sun…” Yelena flipped through the book to look for a section on Ra. She finds it, her eyes scanning the pages after glancing at the image of a man with a hawk’s head. “Power, and light.” 

Yelena stared at the section of text before looking up at Layla. “What do all of these have in common?” She inquired. Layla thought for a few moments before grimacing and offering Yelena a helpless shrug. “We have the God of darkness, known for attacking the God of the sun, now attacking the God of the moon.” 

“Oh…” Layla breathed out a few moments later, her brow furrowed. 

“Yeah,” Yelena mumbled, looking down at the image of a snake coiled around a boat holding Ra. 

Natasha should have known better than to confront Layla El-Faouly like that but she had to do it. White Knight was a child assassin with skills that could rival her own. 

Natasha had wanted to help her. She had wanted to show White Knight that there was a better path for her. She had been so sure that White Knight was a Widow. 

But despite whoever White Knight may have once been, she was now Dina El-Faouly, supposed niece to Layla El-Faouly. Still a child, yet still killing. 

Natasha had needed to know if Layla was taking advantage of an abused child. Dina had been tense in the grocery store with each touch that Layla had given her. Layla had stopped her from running after them. Dina had been within feet of Natasha once but hadn’t spoken a word. Layla had been carrying an injured Dina in one shot they caught on cameras. 

Perhaps Dina needed help and Layla wouldn’t let her get away. Dina had looked for survival after the fall of the Red Room and Layla took advantage of that. 

Layla El-Faouly had no siblings. She had never been seen with a child resembling Dina’s features before. Layla could play stupid all she liked but her body language had betrayed her nervousness. She stuck to the story she had told the first time Natasha ever met her. Layla was not trained like Dina was but that didn’t make her any less dangerous, especially if she was pulling the strings of a child assassin. 

Just that day, the cameras picked up on Dina being led into a high-end hotel by a woman that was not Layla and they later picked up a blur of Dina pausing to look into a window of a store and then reaching up to rub lipstick from her cheek as she tucked papers into her sweatshirt. 

Natasha didn’t have to guess what went on in the hotel room. A Black Widow taught to seduce, a high-end hotel room, lipstick left behind as a mark of possession. Natasha just didn’t understand what Layla, a woman who couldn’t hide her body language very well, could be using a Black Widow for.

Natasha felt like she was running herself into the ground trying to piece together Dina and her story. But Dina deserved help. She deserved to get out and be free and establish a life for herself without someone else manipulating her for their own gain. 

Natasha tells Maria to keep an eye out for documentation pertaining to one Dina El-Faouly. 

The paperwork had been sifted into the records two days later. Layla El-Faouly now had custody of her thirteen-year-old niece. 

Things were going to be harder than Natasha thought. She needed to get Dina out from Layla’s grasp without spooking her like last time. 

But she was Natasha Romanoff and she had already lost one person to the Red Room. She was stubborn and she would not let things go. 

She couldn't save her sister but she could save Dina. 

Chapter Text

Yelena had her first violent nightmare since staying with Layla. She had woken up, tangled in her blankets as she violently twisted until she rolled off the couch. She didn’t remember where she had been sleeping, her back hitting the wall as she tried to find a weapon to protect herself. 

She hadn’t even realized where she was until she realized that she was pinned to the ground, peering up at Layla’s face as she squirmed under her. The hold was awkward and slightly painful, Layla obviously wasn’t sure how to pin Yelena down safely. Yelena was glad that Layla wasn’t going easy and was pinning her down, even if it hurt. Yelena was dangerous when she was out of control. 

“Are you back with me?” Layla questioned. Yelena blinked up at her a few times before she nodded and Layla eased off of her. Yelena sat up, rotating her sore shoulder as she tried to ease the ache of Layla pinning her down. “Did I hurt you?” She sounded worried. 

“I’m fine,” Yelena shook her head. She made to climb to her feet but realized just how shaky her legs were and let herself fall back onto her butt and instead pulled her knees to her chest. Layla sat next to her, not hesitating as she draped an arm over Yelena’s shoulders to tug her against her side. 

Yelena missed Khonshu, the steady tapping of his staff against the ground, the way she knew he was always there, lurking in the shadows and simply waiting to be called upon. 

But Layla was there. She was warm and soft and gentle in all the ways that Khonshu wasn’t. Yelena can’t help but lean into her, drinking up every drop of kind touch that was given to her. 

Layla doesn’t ask about her dream, not that Yelena could even remember. Yelena instead focused on running her thumb along the black ink on her arm and wishing that she could have more than she did. 

“I think I need to go on a walk,” Yelena finally whispered. Too much of the anxious energy from the dream was still buzzing around inside of her and she had to get it out. 

“Want company?” Layla offered and Yelena almost accepts but takes one look at the face of the woman that she realized she had woken up and forced to pin her down, and she shakes her head. “Alright. Stay safe then.” 

Yelena doesn’t bother changing out of the borrowed pajamas, tugging her boots on, and leaves quickly. 

She climbs to the roof of the nearest building, summons her suit, and leaps off the edge. The adrenaline that courses through her veins is enough to keep her focused and she goes roof hopping, leaping over ledges, and submerging herself in the scrapes of concrete and bad tumbles. 

Yelena kept going until she couldn’t, folding in on herself on a rooftop as she reached up to grip the bottom of her mask, preparing to pull it off to catch her breath when she heard a noise and paused, spinning around. 

The breath that she had a hard time catching was suddenly lodged in her throat as she stared up at her big sister. “White Knight,” Natasha spoke, her voice gentle. “Dina.” She corrected. 

‘That’s not my name,’ Yelena wanted to say. She wanted to pull her mask off, to grab her sister by the shoulders and beg for her to see who she truly is. ‘I’m here, Nattie. I’m here.’ But she can’t, not with Nour and Apep still trying to hurt her. 

“Don’t run--” Natasha suddenly said when Yelena’s hands lowered from her mask. “Can we talk? Please?” 

Yelena can’t risk it. She can’t get involved, she can’t let Natasha know who she is, not yet. But some selfish part of her makes her nod her head and she ignores how her stomach twisted at the look of relief flashing across Natasha’s face. 

“Do you remember who I am?” Natasha questioned. She waits for a reply, wanting to actually conversate instead of just talking at her. Yelena nodded her head again. “Good. I know who you are too. Dina, that’s the name you’re going by now, right? You’re a Black Widow from the Red Room.” 

Natasha is right and wrong at the same time. Dina is the name she’s going by but it’s not her name. She’s a Black Widow from the Red Room but she’s also the only White Widow. 

“You can take off the mask if you want. Or speak. It’s safe here, nobody but us is around,” Natasha’s voice was gentle still and she held a hand out as she slowly lowered herself to take a seat on the ground. “Will you come join me? Just to talk?” 

Yelena finds herself crossing the rooftop before she could think twice, stopping a few feet away from Natasha and sliding down to sit. 

“Can I ask you how old you are?” Natasha asked. Yelena didn’t know the right answer. Biologically? Chronologically? “Thirteen?” She guessed. 

That was the age Dina was so Yelena simply nodded her head. Natasha looked saddened slightly at her answer. 

“Can I ask you about the woman you’re staying with, Layla El-Faouly?” Natasha inquired and Yelena immediately tensed up. “Does she know that you’re a Widow?” 

Layla pretty much knew everything about Yelena. The important bits anyway. Yelena nodded her head once again. 

“Do you know that you don’t have to keep being White Knight? Nobody can make you, the Red Room is gone,” Natasha said. Yelena blinks at her in confusion because her words made no sense. Nobody was forcing her to do anything. The Red Room wasn’t gone. She wanted to be White Knight. She had to be. “Layla is not your Madame.” 

Yelena jerked away from Natasha at the words. “She--” Yelena abruptly cut herself off. Layla was nothing like the Red Room. Layla was good and kind and soft. 

“Dina,” Natasha lowered her voice. “If you want to get out then you can come with me. You won’t have to be White Knight anymore. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

Natasha didn’t understand. Yelena wanted to tell her, to explain, but she couldn’t. 

“I… I used to have a sister,” Natasha started and Yelena’s attention snapped back to her. “She was a few years older than you and the Red Room killed her. They took her from me, they showed me footage of her death. It was a grainy video and I can’t remember it that well but it was her, I knew it was.” 

Yelena hadn’t known that Natasha had seen her death. Her stomach twists with guilt because her sister is mourning someone who isn’t dead. 

“I couldn’t save her but I got out and I burned the Red Room down for her,” Natasha continued. Yelena swallows hard because she hadn’t. Natasha hadn’t burned the Red Room down because only last month was Yelena killing another agent from the Red Room. “You don’t have to kill anymore. You can finally stop. You’re free. And if Layla is keeping you from that then I will help you get away from her.” 

Yelena reached up and grabbed the bottom of her mask, hesitating before she pulled it off of her head. If Natasha truly didn’t know who she was, or remember what she looked like, then maybe things just weren’t meant to be. Yelena could tell Layla to forget her vow about finding Natasha because Yelena had found her first. 

“Hi,” Natasha breathed out softly, her eyes gentle and soft but Yelena searches for a hint of recognition in her gaze and finds nothing. Natasha doesn’t recognize her, Yelena is a stranger. “There you are.” 

Yelena feels like she’s being treated like a fragile child, Natasha doing her best to lure her in to trap her and cart her off to go into foster care or some other bullshit place for traumatized children. She’s not actually thirteen, or fifteen, she’s twenty. 

“You have fresh scars,” Natasha gestures to what she can see peeking out from Yelena’s uniform. “Did Layla give those to you?” 

“She’s not my Madame,” the words leave Yelena’s lips faster than she can catch them but she couldn’t have Natasha continue to talk about Layla that way. The sudden Russian took Natasha off guard but she quickly adapted. 

“Of course not,” she agreed. She seemed to sense that the topic of Layla was off the table. “I think you knew my sister.” Natasha blurted, the confession hanging between them awkwardly. Natasha hadn’t meant to say that, Yelena could tell. “Her… her name was Yelena. You whistled at me when we met. Do you remember that?” 

Yelena pressed her lips together, remembering the mistake she had made. She had wanted so desperately to talk then but she couldn’t with her slit throat. Now she could talk but wouldn’t. Natasha whistled and the reply came from Yelena’s lips like second nature. 

“That.” Natasha’s voice sounded shaky. “That’s what I’m talking about. Did you know her? Did she teach it to you?” 

Yelena doesn’t want Natasha to cling to her yet, she still has to get Apep out of the way, but some part of her is desperate to try and make up for all the ache she has caused. She slowly nodded her head and Natasha closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

“Do you know how she died?” Natasha whispered, her voice raw. “Do you know… do you know if she suffered?”

Yelena swallowed hard, wincing at the question. She did suffer. It hurt so much and she was so scared of dying all alone, her life coming to an end before she was old enough to legally drive. Yelena doesn’t want to lie and give Natasha some meaningless platitude of how she didn’t suffer, she went quickly, she was happy and sank into the bright light. Yelena’s gaze flickered to her lap, her head bowed, and that was all the answer that Natasha needed. 

“Oh…” the soft remark left Natasha’s lips with a breath of air. Yelena sees the tears well up in Natasha’s eyes first before a few of her own burned and she reached a hand up to try and wipe them away. “I’m sorry. She… she didn’t deserve that.” 

At that moment, Yelena feels like a stranger, someone ghosting around as a dead little girl. She doesn’t think that she and the girl Natasha is mourning are the same people. She’s different now, Khonshu has made her different, and Natasha won’t understand that. “You loved her,” the words escape her. 

“More than anything,” Natasha smiled at her, taking a deep breath as she composed herself. “I… I apologize for getting emotional on you.”

“She loved you,” Yelena wants Natasha to know. She doesn’t know if she’ll get the chance to tell her. She keeps her voice high and soft, something akin to what she imagined thirteen-year-old her might have sounded like. “You were her big sister. Not by blood but family all the same. She wanted to see you again. I…” she paused as she thought about just how far to twist the story. “I kept hearing about you. You were the best thing to ever happen to her.” 

Natasha’s breath hitched and Yelena looked down at her lap. “Thank you for telling me,” Natasha whispered before she cleared her throat. “Will you come with me, Dina?” 

Yelena wants nothing more than to say yes, to come clean and go home. But she can’t. “I’m sorry.” 

Natasha doesn’t look surprised but Yelena does detect disappointment at her answer. “I see.” 

Yelena suddenly realized how long she had been gone and climbed to her feet, tugging her mask back over her face. “I’m sorry,” she repeats and Natasha’s protests fall on deaf ears as she quickly scales down the side of the building to return to Layla. 

How funny is it that for someone who has had people leave her all of her life, when she finally has the one person she’s longed for, she’s the one doing all of the leaving? 

Chapter Text

The days slowly slip through Yelena’s fingers like sand, far too quickly for her liking. The night of the full moon was growing closer and Yelena started to get anxious. 

She hadn’t seen Natasha, not since the talk they had on the rooftop. Yelena had returned after that a mess and when Layla caught sight of her teary face, she immediately got worried. Yelena had blurted out that she wanted to break the vow of Layla helping her find Natasha but Layla refused. 

Looking back on it with clarity days later, Yelena would be glad for the refusal. It was simply the stupid hormones from her fifteen-year-old body making her irrational. 

Layla does eventually have to go back to work and she offers her home for Yelena to stay but Yelena denies and goes back to the safe house she had with a promise to check in just after Layla got off work each day, spending her evenings there where Layla would cook and force Yelena to eat. 

Yelena had been cleaning her guns when the mark on her arm started to burn, the pain enough to cause her to drop her weapon as cramps shoots through her hand and fingers. She only realized the meaning of it when there was a knock on the door. 

A method of communication to her God. Khonshu was warning her of danger. As Yelena opened the door, weapon in hand, she clenched her jaw at the sight of the woman on her doorstep. She should have known that Apep would have been keeping an eye on her. 

“May I come in?” Nour questioned politely, the clothes she wore were no longer a professional suit but a much more formal dress, deep red in color that matched her lips. Nour looked as though she was going to be attending to a black-tie event.

Yelena knew that if she closed the door then Nour wouldn’t simply leave. But if Nour entered on her turf then Yelena got to call the shots. She would be the one in control. 

Yelena opened the door wider and stepped out of the way. Nour entered, her eyes scanning the rather bare room. Yelena folded her arms, leaning against the wall. “What do you want?” 

“Have you thought about my offer?” Nour spun on her foot to watch Yelena. Yelena scoffed because Nour couldn’t have possibly thought that she would truly think about it. “I see. Nevermind that. Do you own a dress?” 

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “A dress?” She echoed. She bristled when Nour pushed past her further into her safe house as she easily found her bedroom. “Don’t touch that!” Yelena snapped when Nour started to try and rifle through her duffel bag. 

Nour let out a long sigh. “Of course you don’t. Don’t you worry, we’ll fix you up,” Nour tried to grab Yelena’s arm but Yelena ducked out of the way. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Yelena demanded, her fingers grazing the butterfly knife just inside her pocket.  

“We don’t have all day,” Nour said impatiently, tapping her foot on the ground. “You’re coming with me.” 

“Not the fuck I’m not,” Yelena’s heart started to pound inside her chest. She could take Nour on provided that the woman didn’t try to poison her again. Nour wanted her alive, at least for the moment. And her assured survival helped keep her calm

“Sweetie,” Nour clicked her tongue against her teeth. “I already promised I’m not gonna kill ya. I won’t even hurt ya. I simply want to show you something.” 

Yelena eyed the woman in front of her. Her body language told Yelena that she was telling the truth. But Yelena didn’t trust a single word. “If you try anything then I’m going to stab you.” 

Nour chuckled, batting away Yelena’s threat as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly. “Shall we go then?” 

Yelena reluctantly followed Nour out of her turf and into broad daylight where they were on relatively equal terms. Nour took her to a very expensive dress shop and made it clear that where they were going, Yelena needed to dress the part. Yelena was tempted to bite the seamstress taking her measurements and was even more tempted to tell Nour to fuck off when the woman insisted that Yelena wear white. Yelena stood on the stupid little stool with her arms folded as she watched Nour and the seamstress pour over the dresses in her size. 

Yelena was made to try on four different dresses. The one Nour insisted on her wearing was white with a thin red belt around the middle. The red matched her dress and Yelena wasn’t blind to the unsaid meaning of that little strip of red. That was Nour staking her claim, a proof of possession. 

“You look very lovely, sweetie,” Nour’s voice was sweet as she tugged at the sleeves on Yelena’s dress to straighten it. Nour then turned to the seamstress. “Do you have any white flats that will match?” 

“No heels?” Yelena raised an eyebrow, eyeing Nour’s impressively tall red ones. 

“Not for you,” Nour said as the seamstress fetched a pair. 

Nour bought the dress and shoes for her. It was expensive, an impressive amount that Yelena never would have shelled out for herself, but Nour paid for it all the same. 

Nour let Yelena drop her clothes back off at the safe house before she called for a cab. 

Yelena could feel the knife she stored in her bra press against her with each bump they hit. Nour wasn’t busy on her phone or distracted by watching the road. Her gaze was on Yelena, an unidentifiable emotion in them. 

“Tonight, you’re Lilith,” Nour commented. Yelena raised an eyebrow at the fact that she would need a cover name in the first place. “The name means--” 

“Ghost,” Yelena finished. She had heard variations of it before. Another meaning was ‘night monster’. As time crawled forward, Yelena was growing more worried about what Nour had in store for her. 

Nour promised not to kill or hurt her. But she didn’t promise to not kill or hurt anyone else either. Perhaps the whole thing was one big test for Yelena, a chance to prove her worthiness to Apep. Perhaps Nour had been found out and Apep was giving her a chance. 

Nour had purposefully chosen the colors white and red. White usually symbolizes purity or innocence. It was also very easy to see any blood that may be spilled. Red, however, symbolized anger and violence, the particular shade Nour chose not far off from freshly spilled blood. 

“Where are we going?” Yelena dared to question, mentally listing each turn that they took. She wasn’t familiar with the part of New York they were in. 

“An auction,” Nour hummed, patting Yelena’s knee. “We’re almost there, dear.” 

Yelena hated each term of endearment that left the woman’s lips. She slapped Nour’s hand away from her and Nour gave her a polite smile. 

The auction was held at a mansion of some sort. Yelena had been to high society galas and balls before but this time she wasn’t on a mission. She was going in blind, unaware of the types of people that would interact with her. She didn’t think that Nour would leave her alone so that meant that fewer people would try to touch her. 

She stepped out of the cab behind Nour, reluctantly letting the woman place a hand between her shoulder blades to lead her forward. The man guarding the doors dipped his head down in greeting to Nour. He recognized her, meaning that Nour had ties to high society at the very least. 

Nour pushed a flute of champagne into Yelena’s hand and guided her further into the crowd. Yelena didn’t recognize anybody and pretty much every conversation she heard involved the auction and what would apparently be art pieces selling for charity. 

Nour made small talk with a few people. Yelena occasionally chimed in when prompted, Noir’s nails lightly digging into her skin whenever she needed to answer. The whole thing made Yelena feel like she was on a mission for the Red Room, her handler guiding her through it so she didn’t fumble because she was still learning. 

But as the evening continued on, Nour started to pull Yelena away from the main hall and down a hallway. Yelena kept vigilant as Nour tugged her up the stairs, keeping a lookout for any stray partygoers. Nour pulled Yelena closer to the railing that overlooked the main floor, peering out into the sea of people. 

“Why am I here?” Yelena repeated, trying not to think of how easy it would be to snipe someone from their vantage point. 

“Shh,” Nour was watching down below, waiting for something. The auction quickly started not too long after. 

Yelena didn’t recognize any of the artists, couldn’t tell if the pieces were authentic, and didn’t understand the significance of why she was there. 

Nour suddenly grabbed her arm and Yelena focused on the next piece as it was unveiled. 

It was a sculpture of two figures tangled around each other, one white in color, the other black. The details on them were outlined in gold. The piece was titled ‘The Bitter Darkness’. 

“What do you see?” It was the first time that Nour had spoken up since the auction started. Yelena studied the piece on display. 

“It’s… a bird. And some sort of dragon? Snake?” It was a little hard to see from their vantage point. 

“What do you think is happening?” Nour leaned down, her lips brushing against Yelena’s ear as she stepped closer. “What story is it telling?” 

Yelena stared at the sculpture. The bird was in white, wings spread as its foot wrapped around the middle of the other figure. The snake was black, mouth open to reveal fangs dipped in gold lacquer. “They’re fighting.” And the black snake was winning, tail coiled around the other leg of the bird, poised to strike. 

“The bird is a hawk,” Nour spoke, amusement in her tone. “And the snake is attempting to kill it.” 

A hawk and a snake. “Ra and Apep.” Yelena surmised, receiving a hum of approval. “Why am I here, Nour?” 

“My God has taken the first step into claiming his rightful place,” Nour whispered into her ear and Yelena watched as the price for the sculpture climbed higher and higher. 

“Your God wants to cause chaos and disorder,” Yelena accused. 

“My God wants to create peace,” Nour hissed, yanking Yelena closer to her. Yelena stumbled on her flats, not expecting the sudden movement. “I thought you of all people should understand.” 

Yelena stiffened. “What is that supposed to mean?” She demanded. Nour’s hand that had been resting on Yelena’s stomach started to slide lower and Yelena tried to take deep breaths and focus on the auction below as Nour’s fingers brushed the bottom of her dress, starting to trail up her thigh. 

And then the hand was gone as suddenly as it appeared and Yelena blinked in confusion, tilting her head to peer up at Nour.

“That.” Nour said, looking displeased. “You have been hurt. You accept pain and violence as easily as you deal it. You didn’t even try to stop me.” 

Yelena should have known that it was a test. “You could kill me if you wished.” 

“I promised you no harm,” Nour peered down at the auction as the piece was sold. “Humans are such vile creatures. They call themselves good. All of these people here get to go home tonight and pat themselves on the back because a few thousand of their millions go toward charities that will only use a percentage of what they receive.” 

“So?” 

“You were picked by the god of vengeance to be his avatar. You have anger burning through you, you mask your pain but you are a child. Constantly stuck at such a young age, your mind never growing, but the pain just keeps coming,” Nour’s hold softened, her firm grip loosening some. “So many disgusting humans that just keep hurting. You have seen it. You have experienced it. Your body tells your story,” Nour’s finger trails along some of the more prominent scars along Yelena’s arms and neck. “The darkness will destroy those. It will shred those who have hurt you to pieces. It will protect you, be your shield.” 

“Your God wants to kill Ra!” Yelena snapped, finally trying to lurch forward. Nour let her go and Yelena stumbled into the railing, spinning around to stare at Nour. “The world cannot survive without the sun.” 

“It will survive for long enough before the light burns out,” Nour commented. 

“And-- and my God?” Yelena demanded. “What use do you have for trying to destroy the moon?” 

“The moon still shines light in the darkness. It keeps the oceans at bay,” Nour took a step forward. “And eventually, all the light will go out. We can watch the world burn, we can see how those who hurt us suffer. You and me, side by side. My God can be your shield. You will be protected and cherished.” 

Yelena took a step back, her back bumping against the balcony as Nour approached her. Nour spoke of pain and suffering, she included herself in her plans for revenge. “You want to end all life on earth. That would include us.” 

“My God would protect us,” Nour seemed so sure of the fact. She truly held so much faith in her God that he would somehow keep two humans alive past the end of the world. Nour was someone all alone in the world with no one to count on but her God. 

Yelena slowly shook her head. “No. You can’t just kill everybody because some people are vile creatures! That makes us no better than them!” 

Nour jerked forward, her hands gripping Yelena’s shoulders roughly. “We are nothing like them!” She gave Yelena a small shake. “Do you understand me?” 

“I am a monster,” Yelena tilted her head up stubbornly. She had long ago accepted that fact. 

The hands grippings her shoulders disappear and suddenly cup her face, gently cradling it as if she was something precious. “You are a child,” Nour said softly. “What happened to you wasn’t fair.” 

Yelena looked away to where the auction was closing. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“Your God seeks to avenge those who have been wronged by evildoers,” Nour gently guided Yelena’s face back to look at her. “And he out of all people, he picked you to represent him. That says enough.” 

Yelena averts her eyes, unable to look into Nour’s dark ones that seemed to stare into her soul. “Can we leave now?” 

Nour let her go, taking a moment to compose herself before she nodded and led Yelena back downstairs. 

Nour gave Yelena a ride back to her safe house. She stopped Yelena from leaving the car, reaching over to close the door as Yelena opened it. Yelena was ready to pull her knife out as Nour reached into her pocket. She pulled out a piece of paper and shoved it into Yelena’s hands before sitting back. Yelena exited the car quickly, took a few steps back, and watched it pull away. 

Yelena looked down at the piece of paper to see that it was a photograph. Nour was depicted with a girl that appeared to be only a few years younger than Yelena, both of them at what appeared to be the girl’s soccer game. The girl was smiling into the camera, her blonde hair neatly pulled back in a ponytail as Nour pressed their faces together just as she had done with Yelena plenty of times. They both stared into the camera, happy and content. 

Yelena flipped the photograph over. 

Nour & Safiyah 

Her first win of the season

(with plenty more to come!)

Nour spoke of pain and suffering. She had nothing left to lose. She wanted to destroy the earth. Yet, she gave Yelena this. 

Yelena needed to find Safiyah. She needed to know more, she needed to understand. 

Yelena opened the door to her safe house, freezing when she noticed the figure inside. 

“Where the hell have you been!" 

Chapter Text

Yelena stared at Layla in confusion. Layla was angry, her arms folded as she tapped her foot impatiently. Yelena slowly closed the door behind her. 

“What the hell are you wearing? Where were you?” Layla moved forward and Yelena planted her feet as Layla eyed her. 

“I was with Nour--” Yelena barely finished her sentence before Layla was grabbing her shoulders, twisting her side to side to inspect her for injuries. 

When she finds nothing, the concern on her face melted back to anger. “Did she threaten you? Did she hurt you?” 

“No. She said she wouldn’t,” Yelena doesn’t understand Layla’s reaction. “Why are you here?” 

“Because you said that you would come over in the evening,” Layla thrust a hand to the night sky. “It’s well past evening, Yelena. You didn’t show up. I came over here to check on you and do you know what I find?” 

Layla marched right over to where Yelena’s gun was still in pieces on the floor from where she dropped it when Khonshu startled her with the pain in her hand. “Your gun, a weapon used to protect yourself, carelessly tossed to the ground in pieces,” Layla then moved toward the clothes Yelena had dropped off. “The outfit you were last wearing strewn about the room. It looked like you were in a struggle, Yelena!” 

“I was not!” Yelena folded her arms. “I can protect myself just fine. I made the choice to go with her.” 

“Why?” Layla demanded. “She practically killed you! You were bleeding out on my floor!” 

“I was gathering information!” Yelena defended, her chest starting to ache from how hard her heart was beating. 

“You are not allowed to disappear on me like that!” Layla snapped. 

“You do not own me!” Yelena raised her voice. “Why are you upset? Nothing happened!” 

“I’m upset because I care about you, Yelena!” Layla was starting to raise her voice as well. 

“Well I never asked you to!” Yelena retorted. Layla’s face scrunched up before she reached out and Yelena suddenly regretted crossing her. As the adrenaline of the night out with Nour left her body, Yelena was too strung out to be rational. Yelena flinched hard, bracing for a blow for daring to do what she had done. 

The hand gently laid on her shoulder was so much worse than a violent strike. One was sharp and quick and over within a moment. The other was teasing, cruel and wicked as she was made to wait. 

“I’m sorry,” Layla’s voice was much softer, a dramatic decrease from the frustrated yells moments prior. “I’m not going to hit you, Yelena. Come here.” 

Yelena doesn’t resist when Layla tugged her forward. She stood limp and compliant as Layla wrapped her up in her arms just like all the other times she had provided Yelena with comfort. But it’s all wrong this time. Yelena messed up, she doesn’t deserve Layla to do such things. 

“I’m sorry, kid,” Layla apologized once again, her fingers running through Yelena’s hair. She doesn’t tug on it or use it to make Yelena look at her. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m not angry at you.” 

“I made a mistake,” Yelena whispered in Russian. She remembered each time she made a mistake in the Red Room and how she had been punished so cruelly. She thought of Khonshu and how Khonshu did not care how many mistakes she made as long as she got the job done. 

But this was no job. Layla was not Khonshu. 

Layla pulled away a few moments later, still gripping Yelena’s shoulders. “Okay. Why don’t you go shower and change into something comfier? Then we’ll go back to my place and talk.” 

Yelena doesn’t argue. She gathers her clothes up and heads into the bathroom. She carefully folded the dress up, trying not to think about the amount of money that Nour had spent on it. It would be useful in the future if Yelena needed it. At least, that was what she told herself as she stepped under the spray of the shower. 

Yelena shuffled out of the bathroom in a pair of her favorite cargo pants and hoodie. She felt Layla’s eyes on her as she approached the dismantled gun still strewn on the floor and scooped up the pieces, turning them over in her hands to try and discern if anything had been damaged. 

Layla doesn’t say another word until they’re back at her apartment and even then it was only to ask if Yelena would actually eat if she cooked. Yelena shook her head but Layla still prepared two portions anyway. Yelena didn’t want to waste food but her stomach was in knots and each bite settled in her gut like iron. 

Layla eventually grabbed her wrist and pulled the fork from her hand. Yelena looked up at her, wondering if Layla would punish her by using food. 

“You don’t have to finish,” Layla said, setting the fork down. “You look like you’re going to throw up. I don’t want you to eat until you throw up. I was just worried that you hadn’t eaten all day.” 

Yelena propped her head on her hand as she stared down at the unfinished food in front of her. Layla wasn’t wrong, she hadn’t really eaten at all. “I’m not hungry.” 

Layla let out a sigh. “I know.” She acknowledged. “Me either,” she pushed the bowl of unfinished food in front of her out of the way as well. “Can you tell me what happened? Walk me through how you ended up with Nour.” 

Yelena does. She runs through exactly what happened from the moment Khonshu warned her all the way to the car driving off. Yelena reveals the photo that Nour had given her and Layla took it to look it over. 

“You know what?” Layla commented as she inspected the photograph. She held the photograph up right next to Yelena. “You look like Safiyah.” 

“Just because we both have blonde hair doesn’t mean that we look alike. Nour and Safiyah are Arab, I’m not. I am Russian… Ukrainian if my Red Room file is true,” Yelena swiped the photograph back, squinting at it as she stared. 

“You’re both blonde-haired teenagers that Nour seems obsessed with,” Layla listed and Yelena didn’t bother to remind her that she wasn’t an actual teenager as she pulled the photograph of her and her sister from her boot to compare the two photos. “Did she tell you who Safiyah is?” 

“You’re saying the name wrong,” Yelena commented. “It’s SAH, not SUH.” 

Layla pronounced it a few times as Yelena frowned as she started to pick apart more things that she shared in common with Safiyah. “Well, do we know who Safiyah is?” She repeated her question. 

“Not yet. Can I use your laptop?” Yelena asked. Layla packed up the leftover uneaten food as Yelena sifted through social media sites on the couch. Nour seemed like she was telling the truth about her name, especially when it was on the back of the photograph of her. Then again, it could just be a planted name for false evidence. 

It didn’t appear that Nour had any social media but Yelena did find a Safiyah. She used the name along with what she could make out of the logo on the soccer uniform in the photograph to find a group photo of the soccer team that Safiyah was on. With that, she got a last name. Safiyah Sohl was easier to find. 

Yelena found a death certificate. A name mentioned in a news article detailed of how Safiyah was walking home from a soccer field late at night after practice before she was jumped, sexually assaulted, and killed by a group of men. Safiyah Sohl died at the age of fourteen, three months after the photograph was taken. 

Yelena was able to backtrack and find a birth certificate. There was no father listed but the mother was indicated to be Nour Sohl. 

“What did you find out?” Layla sat next to her and Yelena jumped slightly, having forgotten where she was. She had been so used to Khonshu warning her of her surroundings if she needed to pay attention to something that now she was easily spooked. 

“Safiyah was Nour’s daughter,” Yelena’s lips twisted at the thought of how she died. “She was murdered six months ago after being assaulted by a group of men.” 

Layla got really quiet after that. 

Yelena closed Layla’s laptop and turned to look at her. “Are you okay?” She asked when she noticed the upset on her face.

“Yeah…” Layla blinked tears out of her eyes, wiping them away quickly. “It’s just, uh… with my ties to Tawaret, sometimes hearing these types of things just makes me upset.” 

Yelena pushed the laptop out of her lap to set it on the coffee table in front of her before she slowly turned to adjust herself to kneel so she was a little taller. Then she wrapped her arms around Layla, unsure of how exactly to comfort her but remembering all the times that Layla had done the same thing for her. 

Layla leaned into her, wrapping her arms around Yelena’s waist in return. “Sorry, kid.” 

“It happens, I suppose. You can’t control what happens with your Goddess,” Yelena commented, frowning when Layla shook her head. 

“Not just for crying. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve for me to freak out. I just… I sometimes forget that you’ve been on your own with only your God for so long that you’re not used to people worrying about you disappearing,” Layla sighed into Yelena’s hoodie. “But I care about you. I worry when you’re gone and if you disappear then I’m going to come looking.” 

Yelena doesn’t know what to say to that exactly. “You’ll come looking because I’m Dina,” she deduced because Dina El-Faouly was a real person now and Layla being unable to explain where her underaged niece is wouldn’t fair well for anyone. 

Layla pulled away, reaching out to grip Yelena’s shoulders. “No. I don’t care about Dina El-Faouly. Dina isn’t even real,” Layla gave Yelena a small smile, squeezing her shoulders. “I care about Yelena Belova. I’ll come looking for her.” 

“Promise?” Yelena questioned quietly. “You can’t say things like that and not mean it.” 

“I’ll make a vow if you want me to,” Layla flips her hand over to show the mostly healed slice in her palm. Yelena placed her healed hand over Layla’s, lining their scars up.

“You don’t need to,” Yelena shook her head. Just the fact that she was willing to do so in the first place was proof enough. 

Natasha felt like something had changed that night on the roof when she finally saw Dina’s face. Not just a glimpse or a quick look, but she got to stare at it. 

There was no doubt that Dina had seen pain and violence and was intimately familiar with it. It was etched in her skin in the form of scars and marks. But mainly, Natasha could see it in her eyes. 

That small moment on the roof changed things. Dina had seemed so nervous to reveal her face and when she did, she shrunk in on herself as if waiting for Natasha to say something. 

Natasha didn’t know what to say. She assumed that Dina was waiting for comments on the multitude of marks littering her body, some of them very fresh, but Natasha didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious. 

Natasha was able to get a little bit of closure regarding her little sister, even if the answers weren’t what she wanted to hear. 

Each time that she thought about that moment in General Dreykov’s office, being handed the clipboard and made to read her sister’s name, her memory went fuzzy. She knew for a fact that it had been her little sister in the video, she could remember just knowing. But each time she tried to recall the memory, all she could remember was blood pooling under her sister’s small body.

Her therapist called it “fragmentation of memory”. The way that Natasha had shoved the memory into the back of her mind because she couldn’t show herself grieving in the Red Room caused flaws or irregularities in the memory each time she recalled it. 

Sometimes when thinking about it, Natasha wouldn’t be able to remember her sister’s name on the clipboard, just a jumble of unrecognizable letters. Other times, she couldn’t see anything but fuzzy static on the screen as the video was played. But most of the time, she simply couldn’t remember her sister’s face. 

Dina knew Yelena. When Natasha asked if Yelena had suffered, Dina had been unable to do anything but bow her head in silence. Natasha was reminded that she wasn’t the only one who lost Yelena. 

Yelena had spoken about her to Dina. Dina’s words had done something to Natasha’s heart and when Dina ran off, Natasha had to let her go because she couldn’t make herself get off the ground. 

Clint had been the one to come and find her, kneeling next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder in concern. 

Natasha couldn’t tell him what had happened. The words were stuck in her throat as her mind tried to tell her that Yelena was hers to hold onto, that nobody else could know, and that Natasha deserved to be selfish and keep her dead little sister tucked close to her heart. 

The one good thing that came out of the whole meeting was that now that Natasha had seen her face, tracking Dina was easier. When Dina popped back up on her radar, she was with the woman that had taken her to the high-end hotel. 

Natasha refrained from interfering no matter how much she wanted to. The woman bought Dina an expensive dress and shoes and they went to a charity auction. 

There was nothing nefarious about the woman that Natasha could dig up. Nour Sohl was a mother who had lost her daughter and worked a mostly quiet life as a teacher at a self-defense center. She quit her job a month after the loss of her daughter and not a peep had been heard out of her since. 

At least, until she suddenly showed up taking a teenager around the same age as her daughter to different high-end places.

Nothing made sense. But Natasha knew that if she pushed that she could spook Dina away for good. She wanted to help Dina but she had to be patient. 

How can she rescue Dina from herself if Natasha was drowning in the grief dredged to the surface that the reminder of her little sister yanked free? 

Chapter Text

“--and please be careful,” Layla was peering down at Yelena. “I don’t want to come back to find you missing and have to hunt you down again.” 

“You can’t just keep me here,” Yelena folded her arms. 

“Of course not,” Layla let out a long sigh. “I just… I just want you to be safe, okay? So please, if you leave then leave a note telling me where you’re going and when you think you’ll be back. Can you do that for me?” 

Yelena narrowed her eyes at Layla, not pointing out how leaving a note on how to find her was disastrous if it fell into the wrong hands, but she also didn’t want to upset Layla or have her yell again. “Yes,” she finally drawled, the words forced from her mouth. 

When Layla relaxed at her reassurance, Yelena knew that she made the right choice. She’d risk her safety if it kept Layla happy. “Okay, good,” and with the ease of someone who had done it hundreds of times before, Layla scooped Yelena up into a tight hug, squeezing her tight like she was trying to pour affection into her. 

Yelena waited for Layla to finish. She never felt threatened by the stifling hugs that Layla gave her. They didn’t make her panic, flail, or worry that she was in danger. 

Layla pulled away, reaching out to ruffle Yelena’s hair for good measure before she perked up. “Oh! I got something for you.” Layla disappears into the kitchen before returning, triumphantly holding a little black box out for Yelena. 

Yelena eyed her before she slowly reached out to accept the gift, wary of what Layla could fit in such a tiny box that wasn’t even the size of her hand. Yelena carefully wiggled the top of the box off, blinking at the silver glinting in the box. She pulled out the key, holding it up to inspect it. 

“It’s a key to the apartment,” Layla explained nervously. “Y’know, so you can come and go as you please and make sure that I don’t get robbed when you go.” 

Nobody had ever given Yelena a key and trusted her with something as personal as a space where they felt safe. She didn’t know what to say. Thanking Layla seemed odd but any other words didn’t seem to cover it. “Why?” Was the only thing that she could manage. 

Layla got a small smile on her lips, pointing over at the couch. “That couch is your couch. You’ve died, bled out, and slept on it,” Layla then reached out and gave a small tug to the hoodie Yelena was wearing. “That is your hoodie now, even if it was once mine. That purple mug you like? That’s your mug now. That dark stain on the wood? That is where you bled out. This place is my home but it’s also yours, for whenever you want to use it.”

Yelena’s jaw clenched to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from spilling. “Don’t say that.” 

Layla frowned slightly. “It’s true.” Layla reached out again, grasping the fist Yelena was using to clutch the key. “I don’t say anything I don’t mean.” 

Yelena chewed on her lower lip, squeezing her fist closed tighter as she felt the grooves on the key dig into her skin. “You’re gonna regret it,” she warned. 

“Try all you like but I’m not getting rid of you,” Layla gently uncurled Yelena’s fingers, pressing their palms together over the scars. “I’m never going to regret you, Yelena.” 

Yelena inhaled sharply. “You have to go to work,” she practically shoved Layla away from her, knowing that if she let her then Layla would end up an hour late to work just because she was busy fawning over her. 

Layla got the message, smoothing her shirt down before she left. Yelena locked the door and then stared down at the silver key in her palm running her thumb along the edge. She slowly unlocked the door and then opened it, sticking the key into the lock and giving it a twist. Her heart skipped a beat when the key twisted and unlocked the door. She then stepped outside the apartment and locked the door with her key, testing the door to ensure it was locked before unlocking it. 

She doesn’t know how long she stood in the hallway, just unlocking and locking the door in disbelief that the key actually worked. She eventually unlocked and stepped back inside, the key warm in her grip from use. 

She grabbed the sticky note pad and pen and slowly scribbled out a note to Layla before realizing that it was in Russian and crumpled the note up, taking care this time to rewrite it in English. Her writing was sloppy but legible enough. She left it on the counter and then pulled her boots on. Yelena stepped out of the apartment and went down the street toward the pharmacy where she proceeded to leaf through the newest magazines and newspapers. 

It doesn’t take long before a woman steps up next to her and randomly selected a magazine, flipping it open. Yelena glanced over at Nour to see that she was back in a comfortable set of clothes, a pair of leggings and a tee shirt. It was exactly what she had expected to happen. 

“So, this is just where we meet now, hmm?” Nour commented, idly flicking through the magazine. Yelena crouched down and stuck her finger inside the back of her boot, drawing out the photo that Nour had given her and holding it up to her. Nour blinked in surprise, whether it was at the fact that Yelena still had it or that she was returning it, Yelena didn’t know. Nour hesitantly reached out to take the photograph back and slowly tucked it back into her pocket. “Have you changed your mind?” 

“Did you seriously think I was going to?” Yelena focused down on a new photo of Natasha printed in the newspaper along with Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. Nour set the magazine back onto the stand, plucked up a new one, and then disappeared. Yelena glanced at the spot that she just was, closing her own magazine and setting it back on the shelf. Nour reappeared as quickly as she came, holding a plastic bag out toward her. 

Yelena hesitantly took it, peering inside to see that it was the same magazine that she was just looking at with the photograph of Natasha inside of it. She glanced back up at Nour, on guard. 

“You like that one magazine brand. Look at it nearly every time we meet here. You like the Avengers?” Nour questioned. Yelena eyed her, wondering if she had made the connection between her and Natasha. A small smile came over Nour’s face as she glanced back at the magazines. “Safiyah was a big fan of the Avengers…” 

“Yeah…” Yelena mumbled, clutching the bag. She didn’t know how to feel about the gift. “What else did she like?” 

Nour blinked a few times, the smile falling before she nodded toward the door. “Let’s talk a walk,” she suggested. Yelena nodded, following Nour out of the store. Nour didn’t say a word, casually strolling down the sidewalk. 

Yelena was the first one to see the pair of boys in the alley, one pinning the other down as he wailed on him. A third boy, younger than the other two, was sitting against a wall with a bloody nose, shying away from the violence. Yelena stopped in her tracks to watch, Nour quickly realized that Yelena wasn’t following her and paused as well. 

Yelena moved forward first, imagining Khonshu’s voice in her head telling her to drop it, that nobody was in danger of dying, and that they could only intervene after. But Khonshu wasn’t there. 

Yelena grabbed the back of the boy’s shirt and yanked him off of the other boy, shoving him up against the wall. “You think hitting little boys is funny, hmm?” She demanded. She wasn’t in her White Knight uniform, she was simply Dina El-Faouly, the scrappy girl who got suspended from school for beating up a boy. 

The boy was startled by her and Yelena slammed a fist across his face before she shoved him toward the exit of the alley. “Fuck off and go home,” she sneered. She then turned her attention toward the other two boys. “C’mon, get up,” Yelena leaned down and helped the laying on the ground sit up. “You okay?” 

“Y-yeah…” the boy mumbled, swiping a sleeve across his face. “Thanks…” He then turned to the boy. “Come here.” 

The younger boy scrambled to him, slamming into him with a whine. For a moment, Yelena saw herself and Natasha reflected in the actions. “He your brother?” She couldn’t help but question. The older boy squinted at her suspiciously but slowly nodded. She addressed the bigger boy. “When you are in a fight, go for the throat.” She then stood up and left the pair of brothers, pausing when she saw that Nour wasn’t where she was moments ago. 

Yelena quickly found her just around the corner, wailing on the boy some more. Yelena had to yank her off and tell the boy to scram. The bloodied boy flees and Yelena turned on Nour. “What are you doing?” 

“Teaching him a lesson,” Nour spat, lurching to try and chase him down. “You’re letting him get away!” 

“He’s just a stupid boy!” Yelena shoved Nour against the wall. “Leave him.” 

“He was hurting those other boys!” Nour snapped at Yelena. “I thought you were about vengeance!” 

“I am!” Yelena roughly shoved Nour. “But I am not there for the predator, I am there for the victim! I can only interfere when something is already done, not before. If I try then I can no longer be acting as White Knight but as myself.”

“He deserves to be punished just like all the other scum,” Nour stepped closer to Yelena and Yelena resisted the urge to flinch away. “I didn’t get to punish hers but I will punish them.”

“And you would have been perfectly fine in stepping it, killing the boy, and leaving those other two boys alone in the alley, unsure if they were hurt beyond help?” Yelena questioned quietly. 

“So what if I am?” Nour demanded, her eyes narrowing. “If you cannot--” 

“And if those boys were Safiyah?” Yelena knew she crossed a line as soon as the name left her mouth. Her head jerked to the side with the force of the slap that Nour sent. “I cried and wished someone would have helped me for many years, Nour. I don’t leave when I finish my job, I stay and I help whoever is hurt. If I was there then I would have helped Safiyah when I was done, just like anyone else.” 

Nour was breathing hard, her nostrils flared as her hands shook. “Do not talk about her as if you know her…” She said shakily. 

“The only thing I know about her is that she did not deserve what happened to her,” Yelena replied quietly, wondering if the mark on her face would fade or bruise by the time Layla got home from work. “The boy that you were trying to kill was fifteen or so. He’s just a kid.” 

“He was hurting those boys!” Nour did not sound apologetic about it. 

“Those raised in violence and pain will often inflict the same thing,” Yelena swallowed hard. “Didn’t you tell me something similar? He’s only a year older than her--” 

“Stop it!” Nour pushed Yelena up against the wall, her fingers fisting her shirt. “Just-- stop talking about her! You know nothing about how I feel--”

“I know how it feels to lose people,” Yelena interrupted her. “You said it yourself, I am all alone.” 

Nour stared at her, shaking slightly as she took a deep breath. Her grip on Yelena loosened slightly. “I am sorry,” Nour apologized quietly. “I should not have lost my temper with you.” She tried to reach out and caress the cheek that he had hit. Yelena leaned away from the touch but she was trapped between the woman and the wall and had no choice but to let Nour touch her or shove her off.

Yelena subjected herself to the gentle fingers on her cheek, watching Nour’s expression closely. Nour was getting lost in her head, Yelena could see it happen. Her eyes glazed over and her touch became tender. Yelena knew instantly that Nour wasn’t seeing her, she was seeing Safiyah. 

Yelena had not felt any sort of maternal affection since the woman she had once called Mama died when she was six. Having it at that moment was odd. Nour had pretty much killed her and now here she was. Nour was not trying to convince her to switch sides, she was only mourning her daughter. 

Apep was taking advantage of the grief a mother had for her only child. It hit Yelena at that moment that she had to kill her. Nour was going to have to die by her hand if she was to free Khonshu and get him back. The full moon was slowly creeping up on them, she’d have to do it soon. 

She had never had a problem with killing before, she had killed hundreds of people since she had been White Knight and she regretted almost none of them. But this would be one that she regretted. She would carry the knowledge of Safiyah with her long after Nour was gone. 

Yelena quietly promised to herself that after things had finished and settled, after Nour had been gone and buried, that she would track down the men who killed Safiyah and she would get revenge for her. 

She was the avatar to the God of Vengeance, after all. 

Chapter Text

Yelena dreamt about Ohio once again that night. The only difference was that her older sister had taken Safiyah’s place and had been murdered. But Yelena’s mother at the time didn’t seek revenge as Nour did, she sat back and let them get away. 

And Yelena, in her tiny six-year-old body, was clumsy as ever and unable to do anything about it. She felt only a sliver of the desperation and hopelessness that Nour must have felt. 

Layla asked her if she was alright the next morning. Yelena had been thinking long and hard about Nour and her motives ever since she woke up in a cold sweat, the name of her God on the tip of her tongue. 

Yelena brushed Layla off and the woman was late enough to work that she didn’t push it. She left Yelena on the couch after ruffling her hair and Yelena got into some paper and pencils. She started to outline everything that she knew about Apep on one sheet, everything that she knew about Nour on another, and finally, everything that she had learned about Safiyah on a third. 

As she stared at the papers in front of her, Yelena started to think that Nour wasn’t trying to convince her to join her and serve Apep to destroy the world. Staring down at the third sheet of paper, a quick sketch of the photograph that Nour had given Yelena catching her eye, Yelena thought of how Layla had been the one to point out the similarities between her and Safiyah. 

Nour didn’t want Yelena to serve Apep, no. Nour wanted Yelena to replace her dead daughter. Who better to do it than “the child that never ages” or one that never dies? Nour just wanted something to fill the hole that her daughter left behind in her heart and she had chosen Yelena to do so. 

Some part of Yelena felt sorry for her because she knew how it felt to mourn someone that you can never have again. Yelena was going to have to kill Nour for Khonshu, it was what had to be done, but she didn’t see any harm in indulging Nour and her little fantasy until then. Nour wanted companionship and someone to play her daughter. Yelena had been someone’s daughter dozens of times undercover, usually with an older Widow. Yelena had played pretend in her life enough to be able to step into a role as easily as she stepped into her shoes each day. 

Layla didn’t need to know exactly where Yelena would be going each day, not as long as Yelena was back when she promised. Layla trusted Yelena not to get herself hurt. 

Nour wasn’t hurting Yelena. Not intentionally, anyway. Grief does stupid things to people and Yelena will cross the line sometimes and force Nour to retaliate. Nour hadn’t intentionally hurt her since they first met.  She was going against her God’s wishes to kill Yelena, still believing that Apep would be more pleased that she had managed to convert Yelena over to their side. Yelena didn’t know how Nour connected with Apep or if he was watching but he doesn’t stop Nour. 

Yelena met up with Nour once again, putting up with the woman dragging her around the city, being overly touchy with her, and buying her expensive things. Yelena accepted the small butterfly pendant from Nour because it would be pointless to argue otherwise. Nour wasn’t going to be needing the money anytime soon and if she wanted to play dress-up then Yelena would play dress-up. 

“Hey,” Nour gripped Yelena’s shoulder, pausing in front of a window display. “Do you know how to play soccer?” 

Yelena stared into the sports equipment shop, remembering the photograph of Safiyah in her soccer uniform, grinning at the camera after winning her first game. “No.” 

Yelena let Nour tug her into the shop and watched her buy a soccer ball. It was getting late by the time Nour dragged Yelena to a soccer field nearby, a bitter chill picking up as the sun started its descent. The field was deserted, parents having tugged their children away to eat dinner and get to bed before school the next day. 

Yelena listened as Nour explained how to play soccer and wondered whether she should give half-hearted attempts as a regular fifteen-year-old would manage or show the Black Widow side of her and perfect everything on her first attempt. 

Seeing Nour’s eagerness to teach her has her missing the first try, the ball hitting the post. Yelena isn’t sure what to do with the reassurance or cheers that Nour gives as easily as she breathes.

Yelena misses twice more before she let herself get a clumsy goal. She tensed up when Nour shook her shoulders, half expecting a slap. She doesn’t know if seeing Nour’s smiling face as she praised her was worse than a hit because she knew how to deal with violence but the feeling of being praised for something as simple as kicking a ball was absurd. 

Yelena had a vague memory of kicking a ball around with her older sister in their backyard in Ohio. Natasha liked to play baseball with some of the neighborhood boys after school and Yelena would sit nearby to cheer her on. On days when some of the boys wouldn’t show, the other kids would let Yelena stand in and she’d get to catch balls. Sometimes, some of the boy’s parents would join in when they came to fetch them. The kids always got excited when one boy’s dad came to fetch him because he could always hit the ball really far and he had once hoisted Yelena up into the air so she could catch a ball. 

But if her mother at the time ever had to come and fetch Natasha and Yelena, she wouldn’t join in. She would sometimes even get upset with them for the dirt on their clothes and would dump them into a bath as soon as they got home. Her mother at the time never would have taken time out of her day to cheer them on or join in. 

Yelena wondered if this was how the other kids felt when their parents would watch nearby as they waited for them to finish up their game, cheering them on from the sidelines. 

Yelena has to remind herself that she’s only pretending to be Safiyah and that she can’t sink into the role too much. Nour still has to die on the next full moon, which was creeping up rather quickly. 

“I have to go,” Yelena eventually had to break the moment up and it was as if she had shattered reality based on the look that crossed Nour’s face. Gone were the eyes crinkled with joy and the warm smile on her face. Yelena couldn’t help but miss the look because staring at her was the slightly cold mask fixed firmly on her face to hide her grief. “I… can come back tomorrow?” 

Nour gave her a small smile, reaching out to grasp her shoulders. “Think of the things we could do together, sweetie. Join me,” she offered once again. 

“You already know my answer,” Yelena sighed, pulling away from Nour. She didn’t anticipate how late she was going to be and was lucky that Layla hadn’t returned from work yet. Yelena had enough time to clean herself up and had fallen asleep on the couch by the time Layla came back. 

She woke up at the sound of the door opening but didn’t bother to move or open her eyes as she listened closely. She was comforted by the sound of Layla’s footsteps, listening to her give a quiet curse when she smacked her knee on the wall trying to quietly kick her shoes off. 

Yelena listened as Layla moved about, trying to be as quiet as possible while under the assumption that Yelena was sleeping. Yelena didn’t feel threatened by someone being so close by while she was tucked under a blanket with her eyes closed. She didn’t worry about someone taking advantage of her or trying to spring a surprise attack on her. 

“Hey,” Layla suddenly sounded closer than before and Yelena jolted slightly, having almost fallen back asleep. “Get up kid, I brought food.” 

Yelena sat up, pulling her knees to her chest to make room for Layla as the woman flopped onto the couch next to her. Layla shoved a styrofoam box of take-out at her and Yelena doesn’t think twice about shoving a mouthful into her mouth. The thought of poison doesn’t occur to her until halfway through her meal, half distracted by whatever show Layla was watching that was causing the woman to excitedly slap at Yelena’s knee whenever something dramatic happened. 

It’s getting frighteningly easy to fall into place with Layla. Despite having never been able to settle down like this since her first death, being with someone other than Khonshu, an actual human being, is comforting. 

Being with Layla is new but easy. Yelena could not remember the last time she fell asleep so easily with someone pressed up against her, listening as Layla hummed along to the soundtrack on the television. But Yelena closed her eyes and barely stirs when Layla got up and tugged the blanket back over her. 

Yelena spent the day again with Nour, meeting up with her shortly after Layla left for work. Yelena does her best to sit still for each casual touch that Nour gave her, wanting to lean away because she was afraid that she might lean in otherwise. Even if Nour had hurt her, there was something about her touch that just made Yelena want to sink into it. 

The full moon was getting closer and closer. Two days before, Nour took Yelena to watch a production of Romeo and Juliet before once again asking her if she had changed her mind. 

Nour had seemed oddly insistent that time, her brow furrowed in worry as she kept asking Yelena if she was sure she didn’t want to join her. 

Yelena declined once again, unable to shake the feeling that there was something wrong as she walked home that night. Layla picked up on her change in mood and asked her if everything was alright. 

“Yeah,” Yelena mumbled, brushing off Layla’s concern. “I think that I’m gonna sleep at my own place tonight.” She had a feeling that something was wrong and needed to be ready just in case. She did her best not to look at Layla’s crestfallen expression. 

“Alright,” Layla doesn’t argue with her and Yelena doesn’t know if she wanted her to when the feeling of disappointment washes over her. “You have a key if you wanna come back at any time.” 

Yelena left for the night and pretended that she didn’t want to curl back up on the couch with the reassurance that Layla and Tawaret were there should she need them. Her safe house felt colder and lonelier than ever. Yelena sifted through her pictures of Natasha, finally cutting out the image from the magazine that Nour bought her to add to her collection. Seeing the pictures of her sister hurt a little, especially now that she knew that her sister didn’t recognize her. 

Yelena wished that her God was there. She missed Khonshu desperately. He had been by her side for nearly five consecutive years, having him gone was too much. She needed him. She would give up being his avatar, no longer able to summon the suit or heal, if she could just have him with her. 

Yelena had a bad feeling around three in the morning and was unable to sleep. She took a walk, wondering if she would be able to find out where Nour was. Something was wrong, she knew it. The ink on her forearm itched and she wasn’t sure if it was her mind playing tricks or if Khonshu was trying to tell her something. 

Yelena tucked a knife into her sleeve before she stepped out the door and slowly made her way toward the pharmacy where she could look at the magazines in some vain hope that she could cross Nour there. She didn’t want to have to track her down, Nour would get suspicious and that wouldn’t do her any good. 

Yelena stood in the 24-hour pharmacy flicking through the magazines until the sun started to rise. Yelena was eventually kicked out by the man behind the register who told her that she either had to buy something or get out because he wasn’t going to tolerate homeless teens loitering. 

Yelena changed course to start to walk to Layla’s place. The uneasy feeling was a little too much and Khonshu wasn’t there to keep a vigilant eye out for her. 

Yelena flinched when something collided with her, dragging her into a nearby alley. She was assaulted with the familiar scent of Nour but the smell was nearly drowned out by the copper tinge of blood. Nour was there, gripping Yelena’s shoulders, and soaked in blood. There was a wide cut on her neck like she had been attacked and her throat had been slashed. 

“Nour?” Yelena breathed out, reaching out to try and touch the healing wound. The grip on her shoulders tightened and Yelena’s hand wavered as she stared into the eyes of Nour. Something was wrong. The eyes were dull and cold. Yelena swallowed hard, shoving Nour’s hands off of her shoulders. “Apep…” 

Nour grinned widely as her God leaned forward. “Correct.” He reached out to stroke Yelena’s cheek with the same gentleness that Nour once did. “She was correct about you, the child that never ages.” 

“My name is White Knight, Avatar of Khonshu,” Yelena slapped the hand away. “Who did this to her?” She didn’t know if Apep was able to bring Nour back from the dead like Khonshu was. 

“She was losing sight of what was important. I don’t need an avatar that goes against my orders,” Apep told Yelena. Her heart sank as she realized what he meant. 

“You killed her…” Yelena took a step back, wondering where Khonshu was. Nour was dead, why wasn’t he back? “You took her body.” 

“She wasn’t going to need it,” he hummed, looking down at the blood-soaked clothes. “I must admit, Khonshu had the right idea. It’s a little restricting being in here, I can’t imagine how it is to be in your tiny frame.” 

“Where’s Khonshu?” Yelena demanded, flicking her knife out. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Apep tuts, wagging a finger. “There’s no need for that, sweetie.” 

The sound of Nour’s voice, one that had given her nothing but praise and reassurance lately, speaking to her once again, was leaving Yelena vulnerable. She tried to steel herself, unaware of how she let herself get so compromised. “I’m going to kill you.” 

“Silly child,” Apep took a step closer and Yelena jolted when she felt something sharp pinch her neck. She reached up to discover that Apep had flicked a small sharp tip from Nour's finger into her skin and Yelena realized that she had been poisoned. “You cannot kill a God.” 

Yelena didn’t summon her suit, knowing that it was futile to try and filter the poison from her system. Apep couldn’t just carry her around without looking suspicious and being dressed in an oversized hoodie like the child her body was instead of a tac suit and cape was likely to get more attention. 

Apep watched her as Yelena wobbled, her vision starting to darken. Yelena knew that she may very well die at the moment, Apep had no discernable reason to keep her around. 

Yelena prayed to her God as she fell to her knees, her vision waning as her heart pounded fast in her chest. 

She doesn’t want it to be the end. She’s not done yet. She hasn’t talked to her sister, she hasn’t completed her vows, and she still has to help Layla with the artifact that she promised to find. 

“Goodnight,” Apep purred out, hovering over her as her eyes closed and the last thing sees before she gives into the darkness was the smirk on Nour’s face. 

Chapter Text

Layla knew that Yelena could take care of herself. Even if she looked like a kid, Yelena was more than capable of handling anything thrown at her. Layla trusted that she could make the right decision. 

However, she also knew that Yelena didn’t have a typical upbringing and that she was naive about the world in a way that a lot of others weren’t. Her extreme isolation along with her lack of social interactions left her vulnerable in a way that other girls weren’t. 

So Layla trusted Yelena to take care of herself but she didn’t trust the world not to take advantage of her. 

Layla missed seeing Yelena in the morning but figured that she would be there when she came back from work that night. 

However, when Layla returned home, exhausted from a long day, she was a little surprised to see that Yelena wasn’t there. Upon looking, Layla could not find a note. 

She had only recently spoken to Yelena about running around with Nour out there and Layla had asked her to leave notes. Yelena had been happy to do so. 

She could have simply forgotten but Yelena was a people-pleaser, she wanted genuine connections and for people to like her. Layla still feels bad for getting upset with her about disappearing because Yelena had been genuinely confused on why she was upset. 

Layla waited for a little while, attempting to see if Yelena would show up. But as night fell, Layla grew more worried and she finally went over to Yelena’s place, leaving a note behind in case Yelena showed up while she was gone. 

Yelena wasn’t anywhere to be found. Layla was starting to get worried and when she finally determined that Yelena simply wasn’t caught up somewhere, she called for her patron. 

“Do you know where Yelena is?” She asked Tawaret. 

The Goddess frowned slightly, shaking her head. “No. Are you sure she isn’t simply late?” 

Layla thought for a few moments. “I don’t think so. She hasn’t prayed to you, has she?” She knew that Tawaret received many prayers but she also knew that Yelena reaching out to her would surely catch her attention. 

“No,” Tawaret tilted her head to the side. “I’ll see what I can do.” With that, she disappeared and left Layla. 

While Layla was not a master hacker of any sort, she did know her way around security systems. She picked up the skills while exploring dig sites and slipping into a room she shouldn’t have been in just to get a better view of an artifact a few times. 

Layla caught Yelena on camera hours ago and followed her down the sidewalk, barely catching as a hand yanked her into an alley. She doesn’t come back out of the alley, not on that same camera at least. Layla couldn’t find any other security systems that picked up on her so Layla headed back out and went to the alley. 

What she found made her stomach churn. Someone had been bleeding and quite recently. The stench of copper invaded her nostrils and dried blood was smattered on the dumpster and sprinkled on the ground. 

“Tawaret,” Layla whispered, unsure of what to do. Yelena had been here, and then she wasn’t. There was blood, although Layla wasn’t sure if it was hers. 

Tawaret stood next to her, examining the mess of the alley. “I haven’t heard anything from her, not a peep.” 

Layla’s lips twisted and she thought about trying to track her down. The only thing was that she didn’t have the resources. The people she had tracked before were because she was guided by Tawaret who was following the source of prayers. 

Layla could track her down easier if Yelena simply prayed to her. But the lack of prayers either meant that she was unconscious or- and Layla really hoped she was wrong- dead. 

However, Layla did know that there was one person that she could get to help her. They didn’t like her but they liked Yelena. Even though Layla had been the one to be against dragging her into the mess, she needed help and resources. 

And who better to have the resources she needed than an Avenger? 

Tracking down a public figure was harder than Layla thought it would be. Nobody would tell her anything, although she supposed that it was a safety measure. Still, she needed help and couldn’t wait. 

“She knows me,” Layla once again insisted to the woman behind the desk. “Tell her it’s Layla El-Faouly.” 

The woman behind the desk raised an eyebrow, not believing a word that Layla said, but rolled her eyes and picked up the phone. “Deputy Director Hill, could you let Agent Romanoff know that there is a Layla El-Faouly here to see her? Says she knows her.” 

Layla almost wanted to rub it into the woman’s face when Natasha showed up minutes later, looking annoyed that she had been interrupted. “Come on,” Natasha grunted out and waved Layla to follow her. “You better have a damned good reason to have tracked me to my place of work.” 

“It’s Dina,” Layla stated and Natasha faltered slightly in her steps, turning to look at her as her face hardened. “Something happened.” 

Natasha turned on her foot and started off in a new direction, Layla jolting to move forward and to try to keep up with her. “What happened?” Natasha demanded. 

“She never returned after she went out. The last place she was seen has blood and there is no sighting of her after that,” Layla explained. 

Natasha’s lips twisted unhappily. “Take me there,” she ordered. 

Layla does. She guides Natasha to the alley and watches as the woman inspects the blood remnants. 

“What are you doing?” Layla questioned when she noticed Natasha pull a tissue from her pocket to scratch at the dried blood on the side of the dumpster. 

“There’s too much blood here,” Natasha murmured, carefully folding the tissue around the flecks of blood she scraped from the dumpster. “But it’s here and only here. No trails leading away.”

“What does that mean?” Layla watched Natasha straighten up and carefully tuck the tissue into her pocket. 

“Where were you?” Natasha suddenly spun to glare at Layla. Layla jumped at the hostility in her tone. 

“What do you mean, where was I?” Layla demanded, confused at the abrupt change in her tone. 

“I mean how could you let her wander around like that?” Natasha demanded. “She’s a child!” 

Layla opened her mouth to refute the statement before pausing as she remembered that Dina El-Faouly was thirteen and technically should not wandering the streets along so early in the morning, which was when Layla suspected she went missing. “I do not own her,” she settled on saying.

Natasha let out a scoff, shaking her head. “Sure,” she muttered. “It’s not like you took her in or anything.” 

A surge of anger flooded through Layla before it left as quickly as it came. Natasha doesn’t understand the dynamic that she had with Yelena. As far as Natasha knew, Yelena was a thirteen-year-old Widow that Layla took in. Looking at it from that point of view, Layla was a pretty shitty guardian, especially considering how Yelena didn’t even live with her. “I have work.” 

“Right.” Natasha moved toward the exit to the alley. “I’ll reach out if I find anything.” 

“You expect me to just stand around?” Layla moved forward suddenly, reaching out to grab Natasha’s arm, a very bad move. Natasha spun around and shoved her up against the wall, pinning her with an arm to her throat. Layla resisted the urge to call her suit toward her and took a few deep breaths as Natasha glared at her. 

“I expect you to do just that,” Natasha snapped at her, leaning forward to put more weight against the arm against her throat. “You’ll only get in my way.” 

“Listen,” Layla choked a little at the pressure on her windpipe. Natasha loosened the pressure slightly and Layla sucked in a breath of air. “I care about her, okay? You may not think so but I do. So you can either let me help you and we can work together or I can go off on my own.” 

Natasha scowled at her, staring at her face to determine how serious she was before she pulled away and Layla immediately reached up to rub at her throat. “Fine.” Natasha turned on her foot and moved toward the exit again. “I’ll run the DNA. I’ll meet up with you when I have news.” 

Layla watched as Natasha left quickly, rubbing at her throat. Even if Natasha completely left her out of the investigation, someone else was looking for Yelena and had the resources to do more than Layla. That was all the woman could ask for. 

Layla was on her phone attempting to call out of work the next day when there was a knock on her door. She paused her rant at her boss, running a tired hand over her face as she approached the door. She reached for the doorknob, half expecting to see Yelena behind the door before she remembered that Yelena had a key. 

Natasha was standing behind the door, her arms folded as she looked quite frustrated. Layla opened her door wider and stepped aside to let her in as her boss made a comment about having to work to make up for her last-minute time off. 

“Fine!” Layla snapped into her phone and finally hung up on her boss, accepting the loss and turned her attention toward Natasha. “Hi.” 

Natasha slapped a photograph onto the table. “Who is this?” 

Layla peered down at the photograph and her heart sank. “Dina calls her Nour. I think that’s her actual name.” It was a drivers license photo and Nour looked much younger and happier.

“The blood belongs to her,” Natasha’s lips twisted unhappily, her brow pinched in deep thought. “The quantity concerned me. Has Dina been acting off recently? Or have you not been around enough to notice?” 

Layla ignored the jab at her relationship with Yelena. “She’s fine.” 

Natasha stared down at the photo and Layla raised an eyebrow. “Has Dina… killed anyone for you? Or someone else?”

Layla blinked at the question. “No?” She racked her brain to try and think of if Yelena had killed anyone. “Why?” 

“Did she get triggered recently or seem upset?” Natasha pushed and Layla doesn’t understand why she was asking so many questions. 

“She seemed fine!” Layla leaned forward to look Natasha in the eye. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“Has Dina ever gone rogue before?” Natasha asked and Layla raised an eyebrow. 

“You think that she murdered her,” Layla surmised, tapping a finger on the table to gesture to the photograph. 

“The blood isn’t hers,” Natasha huffed. “And if it’s not hers but she’s gone and there were no signs of her leaving…” 

“You think she flew off the handle and killed someone before fleeing?” Layla folded her arms. “She wouldn’t do that.” 

“You don’t know what a Widow would do,” Natasha snapped and Layla resisted the urge to run her hands over her face tiredly. 

“I know that she wouldn’t kill someone without a good reason!” Layla snapped back at her angrily. 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “So then who is Nour? Why would Dina have felt threatened enough to kill her?” Natasha grabbed the photograph from the table so hard that it crinkled. “Was she touching her?” 

“Oh my god!” Layla has no idea where Natasha is getting all of these accusations to hurl around. “No. Listen, we need to find out where she is--” 

“When I help you find her, I want shared custody,” Natasha completely interrupted what Layla was saying, her statement causing her to fall silent. 

Layla had not been expecting that demand. “You’re an Avenger. You can’t just demand custody of someone and get it.” 

“You obviously have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing regarding raising a Black Widow,” Natasha raised an eyebrow. 

“Fucking fine,” Layla wasn’t going to argue it. She had promised to help Yelena reconnect with Natasha anyway. But Natasha was as stubborn as Yelena could be. “But it’s not my choice, it’s hers.” 

Natasha accepted that with a nod, shoving the photo into her pocket. “Catch me up on what you know about Nour.” 

An average adult has about 1.2 to 1.5 gallons of blood in their body. Blood makes up approximately seven percent of an adult's body weight. 

Up to fourteen percent of a body’s blood can be lost before physical symptoms start to appear. 

Yelena never claimed to be big or tall. Her body was that of a fifteen-year-old girl on the shorter side of the spectrum. Any blood loss could be considered significant. 

Her healing factor did not restore blood as quickly as it was lost. It was good for slowing down untimely injuries until she could get to safety but it did not magically fix her without symptoms appearing first. 

When she woke up strapped down to a table, feeling the way her fingers had been broken to delay her escape, she knew that she was in for a lot of pain. 

“There you are,” the sickeningly sweet voice of Nour echoed from nearby. Yelena attempted to turn her head, stopped by a thick leather strap securing it in place. “Wakey, wakey.” 

“Apep…” Yelena breathed out, her head fuzzy. She hated coming around while she was impaired. Khonshu wasn’t there to protect her. 

Khonshu wasn’t there at all. Yelena had waited too long to kill Nour and Apep took the opportunity away from her. The only question was if Apep was here piloting Nour’s body around then where was her God? 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Apep appeared in her field of view, reaching his hand out to tap her cheek. “Stay with me, my dear. You wouldn’t want to miss any of this.” 

“Fuck off,” Yelena slurred, wondering how much venom was still in her system. 

“Don’t be like that,” Apep harshly gripped her cheeks, digging his nails into her skin. “Naughty children get punished.” 

It had been drilled into Yelena since the day that she died that Gods were not something to mess with. Khonshu had instilled the etiquette and rules that she needed to know regarding meeting and interacting with other Gods. If Yelena would cross shrines or temples, she would stop and pray and sometimes leave an offering, mostly in the form of a ration, bread, or baked sweet that she had on her. 

Yelena had been careful, she had followed the rules, and she had never stepped on any toes. But never before had she been faced with the fact that a God was going to torture her. 

Sure, the Gods had killed her trying to find Khonshu. But her death had been quick and she didn’t suffer long. She had died in Layla’s hold, feeling safe knowing that she would be looked after. 

Here, she was truly and utterly all alone. No Khonshu, no Layla, nobody. 

Yelena squeezed her eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths as she prayed. She started off with her patron, asking him for help and strength. Then she prayed to Tawaret. 

Then she kept going. Each God she remembered Khonshu not making backhanded insults toward, each God she left offerings for, and each God she had prayed to and wished well; she prayed to each one of them and asked for strength. 

“No closing your eyes,” a hand grabbed at her forehead and her eyes flickered open immediately. “I don’t want you to miss a single thing.”

Yelena stared up at the face of a woman who had only ever wanted her daughter, now twisted into a cruel smirk by a God who killed his own avatar simply because she was in the way. 

Yelena could handle whatever he threw her way. She had died plenty of times, she wasn’t scared of death anymore. She knew what waited for her on the other side, she knew that her heart may somehow just balance on the scale. 

“I want to see just how far your God will try to protect you before he grows too tired to regrow parts,” Apep let out a hum and Yelena had no choice but to open her mouth as he jammed a thumb between her lips and wrenched her mouth open with inhuman strength. He held up a pair of pliers in a mocking way, smirking down at her. “Your God can heal wounds but can he regrow teeth?” 

Yelena took carefully measured breaths and averted her eyes to the ceiling, praying once again as one of her canines was carefully sandwiched between two pieces of metal. 

As he twisted his wrist and gave a slow tug, Yelena thought of Khonshu hovering over her on bad nights, teaching her how to read hieroglyphs and telling her stories as his staff tapped against the ground in the familiar comforting rhythm. 

Getting a tooth yanked from her mouth didn’t hurt as much as dying the first time but tears still rolled down her cheeks despite her best efforts as she choked on blood running down the back of her throat. 

“Let’s see what else we can do,” Apep hummed and Yelena could do nothing but watch. 

Chapter Text

The Red Room had a point when they taught Black Widows how to not get attached to anything. Getting attached only leads to inevitable vulnerability that could be turned against them. 

When Yelena had decided to indulge Nour because she wished for the woman to find some sort of peace on her last days on earth before she killed her, Yelena had unwillingly opened herself up for something she had sought out but resisted. 

Nour’s maternal affection was suffocating and overwhelming but Yelena couldn’t help but want more of it. She didn’t care if she had to play the part of a dead child to get it. The constant gentle praise had been enough for Yelena to drown in and she let herself.  

Nour was a mother mourning her child and Yelena was a child without a mother. Well, she wasn’t actually a child but her body was one. Stupid teenage hormones had her angry at her death. 

She knew that she had no right, she was going to kill Nour anyway. But Yelena had plans to not make it hurt, a quick and painless end for Nour, hopes of the woman reuniting with Safiyah. Apep had taken the choice from Yelena, he hadn’t let her use Nour against him. He had given Nour a painful and violent end, much like her daughter. 

The funny thing was, Yelena had gotten Nour killed, and Nour didn’t even know her name. Nour knew her as “the child that never ages” or even “White Knight” but never once had she known her as “Yelena Belova”. Apep knew her name, she knew that he knew it, even if he never used it. 

Apep was walking around in the body of a mortal. He was practically untouchable. Gods would be unable to harm the body he was occupying and mortals, whether they were avatars or not, would be no match against a literal God. 

Yelena’s chest clenched uncomfortably each time she saw the cruel twist of Nour’s face as Apep took sadistic glee in seeing her hurt. Yelena had been tortured before, she had died many times, but having someone who had been so kind to her at the end being the one to stare down at her with mirth at her suffering was different. 

Yelena already knew that Khonshu could grow back nails, knit together torn skin and muscle, unbreak bones, and heal burns. Yelena had been in an explosion that ruptured her eardrums and they had grown back. She had no doubt that if Apep had cut her arm off that it would eventually grow back if she managed to stay alive. 

But that didn’t mean that it hurt no less. Nour’s voice and hands, ones that had so carefully been gentle and kind to her, were now being used against her. Apep had used the same nicknames that Nour did, calling Yelena those damned terms of endearment. 

Yelena had braced herself, clenching her jaw as quiet tears rolled down her cheeks. She refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her distress. 

Apep had taken one of her teeth, he had taken a few of her nails, and he took great delight in asking her whether she thought her skin would regrow with no scars if he cut a patch out. 

Apep wanted to start digging inside her, and Yelena kept as still as she could because the last thing she wanted was to jolt and have the knife pierce something it shouldn’t. Yelena still didn’t know if she could die and come back because Khonshu wasn’t there. 

As Apep cut deeper and deeper, Yelena prayed to the Gods that she knew had avatars, she had asked them not only for strength but for rescue, she made promises of favors, something which Khonshu had told her never to do. 

Yelena wondered if Apep would kill her on the very table she was strapped to. She wondered if Khonshu would be freed and come back to an avatar who had failed him. She wondered if Khonshu would care that she was gone and not coming back. 

At one point in her life, death was an inevitable and Yelena had been prepared to die at any moment for simply displeasing the General. She was a Widow, it was her job to be expendable. The funny thing about death was how she was so ready to give her life but the moment she was bleeding out and realized that her end was coming, fear gripped her because she realized that she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to have that be her end. But her fear had faded over the years. Having immortality had made her reckless and she had received too many lectures from Khonshu for putting herself into unnecessary danger just to get the job done. 

Yelena would refuse to use the suit until the last moment because she needed the reminder that she was human. She could feel the blood on her hands and the ache in her body as she remembered that death could still happen despite her immortality. Any of her deaths could be her last, Khonshu could simply not be able to, or choose to not resurrect her.

The thought of death, a final death, now scared Yelena because she had more on the line than she ever had before. She had gotten complacent in her isolation and loneliness, having no reason other than her God to pursue a further reason to live. Yelena had been teetering on the edge of what some would call passive suicidal tendencies. She hadn’t wanted to kill herself but she didn’t try to stop it either. 

Khonshu would hover over her shoulder like a protective shadow, occasionally yanking her out of the way of danger when she got too reckless. She had been yelled at many times as he ordered her to summon the suit and would constantly tell her that it was there for a reason. Yelena didn’t know how to explain to a God that she didn’t rely on the suit unless she really had to because she was afraid that one day it wouldn’t be there anymore. 

There was no reason for Khonshu to keep her around or bring her back. Yelena was just a tool for him to use. She became his avatar simply out of convenience. She had died in his temple on the steps to his altar. She was simply there for him to take advantage of. She didn’t care if he was just another master for her to serve, she didn’t want to die at that moment, fifteen and alone. 

Each of her deaths came easier and easier. Waking up aching somewhere safe was a comfort and she knew each time she died that Khonshu would take care of her body. Khonshu wasn’t that well versed in looking after a human body and Yelena would often wake up and be wired on vast amounts of caffeine that he forced into her because he didn’t want to deal with fatigue or exhaustion. Waking up with the bitter taste of coffee on her tongue was expected and as Apep stood over her at the moment, fingers pushed an opening he made with a knife, Yelena wished that she could buck her hips up and force him to do irreparable damage that would make her die. 

She longed to give in and wake up, her body sore but somewhere safe, the lingering taste of bitter black coffee on her tongue. But Yelena didn’t know if she’d come back this time. Khonshu wasn’t there to guide her back and Yelena didn’t want to risk giving in and not being able to find her way out. 

Yelena thought of Layla, the sweet girl that took her in all because her Goddess had made a promise of safety and sanctuary. Layla was surely looking for her and Yelena didn’t know whether she wanted Layla to find her so she could be safe in her arms or if she wanted Layla to stay far away so that Apep could not hurt her. 

If she died, Layla would surely blame herself. She would wonder if there was something she could have done differently. The sudden appearance and disappearance of thirteen-year-old Dina El-Faouly would raise some eyebrows. 

Layla had killed before, Yelena knew that, but never had Layla been too late to save someone. Layla had never had to deal with the guilt of being unable to save someone. Yelena refused to put that on her. She refused to be the first of an eventual inevitable outcome. 

But try as hard as she might, Yelena could not fight even death. Apep’s fingers were burrowing further and further into her abdomen and it was getting easier to not fight him as her strength left her. 

Her eyes were getting heavy and Yelena recognized the signs of major blood loss. 

Shallow breathing. Lightheadedness. Rapid heart rate. Sweating. Weakness. 

“I’m gonna die if you don’t slow down,” Yelena finally slurred out, her tongue heavy and mouth dry. Apep paused from where he was busy playing around with her abdomen, glancing up at her. Yelena wondered if he even knew the limits of the human body or if he simply didn’t care. The constant torturous pressure on her abdomen suddenly stopped and Yelena sucked in a gasp of air. Hands slick with blood grasped her chin and she was suddenly staring into the eyes of Apep. Gone were the warm dark eyes of Nour and instead Yelena was staring at the bright, nearly glowing eyes of a God. 

“Hn.” Apep grunted out and then let her face go, moving away from her and out of her line of sight. Without the warm hands on her stomach, she suddenly felt cold. 

She didn’t care how childish or stupid it was, at that moment, she just wanted to be wrapped up in a blanket and held. She wanted a reassurance that she was alright and safe. 

Apep returned and undid the strap around her head, a juice box in hand as he gripped her chin and tilted her head to the side. He stuck the straw between her lips and ordered her to drink. Yelena was too tired to object and sucked on the straw, the sudden taste of apple juice overwhelming on her tongue as it moistened her mouth and soothed her throat. 

She still couldn’t help but wish for the bitter taste of black coffee. 

Layla knew that she was going to have to explain the exact situation that she was pulling Natasha into but it was a general rule of thumb for avatars to keep their existence a secret. Layla knew that she needed Tawaret’s permission to reveal anything to her so when Natasha asked Layla to explain everything she knew about Nour, Layla excused herself to the bathroom. 

Layla only had to call for her once before Tawaret was there in the bathroom with her. 

“I need to tell her,” Layla didn’t exactly ask for permission. Natasha needed to know, not that Yelena was White Knight but that Egyptian Gods existed and that Natasha had to be careful. 

Tawaret stared down at her and Layla shifted nervously under her gaze, nearly sighing in relief when the woman gave her a nod. She only had to hope that Natasha wouldn’t think she was crazy. 

So Layla went with dropping the information that Nour was an avatar of Apep and worked her way back from there. Natasha raised an eyebrow but sat back in her seat and let Layla explain. 

Layla told her that she was the avatar of Tawaret and that Yelena, calling her the name Dina, was the avatar of Khonshu. Layla explained how she met Dina, what was going on with Khonshu, and where she suspected Dina to be. 

Natasha didn’t speak a word the entire time until Layla finished. She simply leaned forward and nodded. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Layla echoed dumbly, expecting some sort of skepticism or disbelief. 

“Okay,” Natasha confirmed. “I have met the literal God of thunder, I have seen aliens, the existence of Egyptian Gods does not surprise me.” 

Layla was glad that she wasn’t going to have to figure out some way to convince her. “That… went better than I expected,” she admitted.

“Tell me what I should expect regarding dealing with Gods,” Natasha said. 

Layla couldn’t help but think that Yelena would be far better at that than her. Yelena had taught her a lot regarding Gods and their rules. Khonshu had taught Yelena a lot and Yelena never minded explaining things to her. 

But Yelena wasn’t there and was counting on her to get her out. So Layla started to go over every rule she could remember regarding Gods and mortals along with some of what to expect regarding Yelena’s powers. 

Her voice wavered and faded when she suddenly saw Tawaret standing next to Natasha, her face grim. 

“What happened?” Layla asked her and Natasha’s head snapped to look where Layla was looking. 

“Yelena’s praying for help,” Tawaret’s voice was rather subdued and quiet. “She’s begging for strength.” 

Layla swallowed hard, vaguely aware of Natasha snapping at her to know what was going on. 

“Where is she?” Layla asked. Now that Yelena’s prayer had been heard, Tawaret could track her. 

“The basement of an abandoned apartment complex,” Tawaret answered. Layla recognized the address provided as the very apartment complex that Safiyah had died next to. “You need to hurry, she’s fading fast.” 

Layla stood, turning her attention to Natasha to relay the information. Yelena may be able to return from death unscathed but Layla refused to put her through any more deaths. Yelena deserved to live.  She deserved to be happy. 

Natasha and Layla left immediately to go and fight a God and rescue a girl that had both come to care for. 

Chapter Text

The interesting thing about human bodies is just how vulnerable and sensitive they were. 

Yelena may have been raised in the Red Room, she may be an avatar of a God, but when it all boils down to it, she’s just a human. 

The human body can only withstand torture for so long before it gives up whether the torture had stopped or not. Despite Apep giving Yelena juice to stabilize her blood sugars, he was not well versed in human affairs and limits. 

Yelena had already warned him once and she refused to do it again. She was just so tired. She was so cold and her fingers were going numb as spots danced in her vision. At some point, she decided that she just had to give in. There was no point in prolonging such pain if she wasn’t going to be found. 

Apep called her a tired child as her eyelids slowly tugged closed and Yelena doesn’t correct him about the fact that she was going to die. 

It would be lonely on the other side, she’s pretty sure. But she knew that there was a chance she would see Tawaret again and that her heart might just be good enough to balance on the Scales of Justice. She had been alone for most of her life, being alone might not be so bad in death because she would never have pain again. She’d be free, completely and utterly free for the first time in her life. 

She already knew how lonely that would feel. 

Her forearm itched, the ink on her arm burning slightly and Yelena shuffled and tugged on the arm restraint to try and make it go away. When she couldn’t, she focused her attention on it. 

“My child…”

Yelena jerked at the low rumble, her breath hitching at the familiar voice. Her eyes flickered around the room, searching for the familiar comforting figure. She didn’t dare breathe his name aloud in fear of angering Apep. 

“You have been brave, you have done just as I have asked.” The phantom feeling of large hands brushing against her forearm over the ink had Yelena slowly relaxing. “You have not failed me.”

“I’m sorry…” Yelena still breathed out, disappointed in herself that she had let Nour get away. 

“Do not be.” Yelena could sink into the comforting voice, wrapped up in the shadows. “You are dying.” 

“Yes…” Yelena refused to summon the suit. She didn’t need Apep taking advantage of that. She didn’t need to heal herself to prolong the torture. 

“I ask of you one thing before you go,” Khonshu stated. 

“Anything…” Yelena would do whatever he wanted. She was his to use. 

“Grant me permission to your body,” Khonshu requested. 

The thing about Khonshu was that he didn’t even have to ask. He was a God, Yelena was his avatar, he could do what he very well pleased without a word from her. But Yelena had been firm with him about asking before he took control and he was doing so.

“Will you bring me back?” Yelena stared at the ceiling, her eyelids growing heavier. Khonshu was quiet for a moment and the burning in her arm suddenly stopped, replaced with a sense of warmth. 

“Fights between Gods can be messy, my child,” Khonshu’s tone took on a tinge of remorse. “I may damage your body beyond repair.”

And what a scary thought dying was. Yelena wasn’t ready yet, not anymore. She had so much more to do. 

But Apep needed to be brought down before he plunged the world into darkness and no other God could harm the mortal body he was in. A God in a human body versus a God in a human body would be a fair match. 

“If I do go forever, will you find Natasha?” Yelena knew that Khonshu wasn’t Natasha’s biggest fan, mainly because she would distract Yelena at times. “Give her the photo.” 

Khonshu let out a hum, a familiar rumble that never failed to soothe Yelena. “I shall.” 

“Okay…” Yelena breathed out. Dying a final death was not what she had planned when she last left Layla’s apartment but she supposed that death was inevitable for everyone. Twenty years on earth wasn’t too bad for a Widow. 

She could practically see Khonshu looming over her, tapping his staff onto the floor in the comforting rhythm that she liked. 

Right before Yelena let herself sink into the darkness, the door to the room slammed open and Yelena tried her best to look over toward whoever entered. 

Her elation at seeing Layla as Scarlet Scarab and Natasha as Black Widow was short-lived as Apep appeared out of nowhere. 

With no warning, no taunts, and not even a smug comment, Apep took great pleasure in slicing Yelena’s neck open just as he had done with Nour. 

“No!” Natasha cried out. 

Getting her throat cut open was one of Yelena’s least favorite ways to die. There was too much of a mess and her mouth always tasted like rust and salt for the next few days as the skin knitted back together and healed. 

My body is yours, my God

Yelena left one last thought for Khonshu before she gave into the darkness that welcomed her with open arms. 

Layla had an uneasy feeling as they approached the place where Yelena was being held. She felt as though they were too late, a feeling that curdled in her stomach like sour milk and made her feel sick. 

Layla had never fought a God before. Tawaret had taught her better than that. Yelena had bestowed upon her the importance of respecting Gods and how as an avatar, Layla represented her Goddess. 

Apep hadn’t been expecting them judging by his harsh reaction to their appearance. Layla hadn’t even had time to properly take stock of the kid tied down to the table, blood splattered around her in a concerning volume, before Apep grabbed a knife. 

There was no time to even try to barter for Yelena’s life. One quick slice to the throat and Apep laughed as blood sprayed and Yelena let out a painful gurgling noise. 

“Yelena!” The name left Layla’s mouth quicker than she could stop herself, jolting forward with a weapon in her hand. 

Apep disappeared quickly and Layla didn’t have it in her to chase him down, her focus on Yelena. The girl’s eyes were drooping shut, shallow breathing drawing Layla’s attention to the wounds. Yelena’s lips parted as her eyes connected with Layla’s, looking as though she wanted to speak. Layla took stock of the missing tooth and rage burned in her belly, hot and fiery. She shoved that aside to undo the strap on Yelena’s head. 

“I’ve got you, kid,” Layla soothed, undoing the rest of the restraints. She knew it was far too late but still hauled Yelena upright. The teenager went limp against her like a ragdoll, the rattling noise as she breathed ceasing as the flow of blood slowed. “Shit. Fuck. God damned it…” 

She remembered that Natasha was there, witnessing the whole thing. The woman looked ill, her skin rather pale as she stared at the girl. 

“You… you called her Yelena…” Natasha whispered. 

“Yeah…” Layla clenched her jaw. “I did…” 

Natasha let out a wet laugh, reaching up to cover her face. “I should have known… I should have fucking known!” 

Layla watched Natasha kick a hole in the wall. She wanted to tell Natasha that Yelena came back sometimes but she didn’t know if that was the case. She glanced over to where she could see Tawaret standing nearby. “Would you… would you check?” Layla whispered to her Goddess. “See if she’s okay?” 

Tawaret inclined her head and disappeared to go and guide Yelena through limbo as she usually did. 

Layla peered down at Yelena and slowly gathered the girl up into her arms. Dead or not, she wasn’t leaving Yelena to rot all alone. 

She was reminded of the time that the Gods had killed Yelena to try and entice Khonshu. Layla had held the girl as she died and she carried her when she lived. 

“Come back to me,” Layla whispered into blonde hair, strands crusted with dried blood. “Come back, I know you can. You’ve done it before. Don’t leave me hanging, kid.” 

Layla jolted when the hoodie Yelena was wearing faded and was replaced by her usual White Knight uniform. Hope bubbled through her as she tugged the mask off of Yelena’s face to watch the skin on her neck knit back together. “That’s it,” Layla encouraged, getting Natasha’s attention. “Come back. I’m right here.” 

A soft groan left Yelena’s lips and she suddenly sat up, reaching up to cradle her head in her hands. 

“It’s alright, you’re okay,” Layla reached out to set a hand on Yelena’s shoulder to steady her. “Apep killed you but you’re back.”

Yelena’s head tilted up to peer at her and Layla froze at the eyes staring into hers. 

“Yelena?” She repeated slowly, the grip on her shoulders loosening. 

“No…” Yelena’s voice had taken on a raspy tone, deepened slightly despite the healing gash on her throat. 

Suddenly, every bit of etiquette that Tawaret drilled into her head about meeting a God flew out the window. Layla let the body go. “It’s an honor to meet, you, Khonshu…” she gave a small bow of respect. 

Khonshu let out a small grunt, inspecting the room before him, bringing Yelena's hands up to his face to look at the missing fingernails. He moved to slide off the table and onto his own two feet, wobbling slightly under the weight. 

“Woah!” Layla didn’t care if she would get scolded by Tawaret for manhandling a God, he was in her friend’s body. “You need to take it easy.” 

“Cease your touch,” Khonshu swatted her hand off but did sit on the table again. “I have much work to do.” 

Layla retracted her hand as though she had been burned. 

Natasha was watching quietly from the sidelines and to be honest, Layla had forgotten that she was even there until Khonshu turned his gaze onto her. 

“Natasha Romanov,” he greeted. “After years of seeing your faces in clippings of magazines and newspapers, it is refreshing to see you in person. You have been an object of obsession for my avatar, often distracting her whenever your face or name is mentioned.” 

Natasha fumbled for a good reply, unsure of how to interact with an ancient Egyptian God. “I hadn’t realized she was alive…” she finally settled on. 

“It was her choice,” Khonshu said, slowly leaning down. Layla tried not to wince at the fresh blood dribbling from an open wound in the stomach that had blood seeping through the white fabric of the combat uniform. Khonshu reached into Yelena’s boot and slowly pulled out the plastic baggie that Layla recognized. Khonshu extended his arm to hold the item out to Natasha. 

Natasha hesitated before slowly moving forward. Layla could see just how the woman longed to wrap the girl up in a tight hug and never let go but didn’t dare with a God behind the wheel. 

Natasha took the item from Khonshu, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the photo strip that had been so carefully preserved by Yelena. The baggie was smeared with blood but the object inside, although weathered and faded, was in good condition. 

With that done, Khonshu slid to his feet once again. It seemed wrong for a God to be piloting the body of a teenage girl, short and angry. 

“Where are you going?” Layla demanded as Khonshu started to march on unsteady legs toward the stairs. 

Khonshu paused, turning to glance at her as he raised an eyebrow. “I would watch your tongue, mortal,” he hissed, the words sounding wrong coming from Yelena’s mouth. He turned to face the stairs again. “I am to finish this.” 

Layla wanted to grab him, to shake him by his shoulders and tell him that he was taking advantage of a dead child’s body and that she refused to let him damage it. But she could practically hear Yelena’s lecture about respecting Gods and she swallowed down the anger, letting it fester in her chest instead. 

Natasha, however, had no such qualms. But as soon as she reached for Yelena, Khonshu struck at her with a weapon and Natasha had to jump away to dodge it. 

“Do not try to stop me,” Khonshu boomed, straightening up and somehow managing to make the tiny body look intimidating. Yelena radiated power and strength, her usually soft hazel eyes nearly an iridescent blue. 

“Are you going to bring her back?” Layla managed to demand, swallowing hard around the fear that surged through her. 

Khonshu stared at her, Yelena’s lips twisting, and Layla’s heart sank. 

“I shall endeavor to deliver her body back to you,” was all he said before he started up the stairs again. “Do not follow me.” 

Layla had to grab Natasha to stop her from darting after Yelena’s body. 

“What are you doing?” Natasha slapped Layla’s hand away. 

“It is a matter of a fight between Gods now,” Layla told her quietly. “Mortals are not to get involved.” 

“Then what the hell are we supposed to do? You seriously cannot be suggesting that we just sit back and let Khon--” Natasha started to ramble but Layla slammed a hand over her mouth before she stated his name. 

“Names have power, Natasha,” Layla said, yanking her hand away before the woman sunk her teeth into her. “There is something else we can do to help.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow and Layla let out a sigh. 

“We have to call a meeting with the Council of Gods.” 

Chapter Text

Yelena read in a book once that to die would be an awfully big adventure. Obviously, the person who wrote it hadn’t died but the point still stuck all the same. 

Yelena woke up as she always did after dying, laying on the cold floor. She had grown accustomed to the tiny six-year-old version of herself when she was dead. She came to expect small hands and unsteady legs to carry her. 

However, she noted immediately that she was a bit bigger and as she wiggles her fingers, she realizes that she was still in her regular body. 

She held her hands up to the dull flickering light and noted the lack of a few scars she had grown accustomed to. She would place her age at roughly around fifteen and she doesn’t understand why. 

She felt cold. Even colder than she usually felt while dead. There was a foreboding sense of finality that she didn’t like. It’s foolish to miss the scars on your skin but Yelena felt bare and naked without them. Her body didn’t look how she felt it should, like it wasn’t her body, and it made her want to crawl out of her skin.

She was wearing a Red Room uniform, the familiar sight of a red hourglass branded on her belt made her feel shackled all over again. 

She no longer took the title of Black Widow. She was the White Knight, she protected the travelers of the night and brought vengeance. She wore white, she saved women and children, and she killed those that she couldn’t before. 

At that moment, she felt like she was a child again. She barely had any scars, feeling suffocatingly stuffed into a suit that fit her like a second skin. 

With her arms wrapped around herself, Yelena shuffled forward and navigated the empty halls. She was looking forward to whatever memory of her and her sister awaited her but as she pushed open the heavy door and fell through, she hit something hard, the smell of something damp and rotting filling her senses. It was far too dark, small flickers of lit lanterns the only source of light. 

Yelena took in the scene in front of her, confused on why she was in that particular memory. She was back at the day of her first death, watching the not-yet-dead archeologists work. She remembered how she spent hours laying in the dark and watching them, waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch the artifact from them and leave not witnesses. She did the same thing now, observing them closely as she moved further into the temple and observed person to person. 

The peculiar thing about the mind is its ability to store information in its subconscious and be unable to recall it later on despite the fact the information is tucked away. Yelena doesn’t remember the exact conversations had until she was standing in front of a pair of men, listening to their chatter as they worked. 

The first man talked of a vacation, one that he had worked long and hard to save up for. He was eager to surprise someone with it. He was grinning, sweaty and tired but still looking forward to the future. 

“Bet you’ll be glad to get out of here, huh?” The man next to him inquired with a laugh.

“You bet. It’s getting cold,” the first man rubbed his hands together to warm up his fingers as if to prove a point. “I’m eager not only to return home to my warm bed but to my daughter. I just know she’ll love what I have planned.” 

“How is she?” The second one inquired. “She still in college?” 

“Top of her classes. She’s a smart cookie,” the first man beamed. “I’m so proud of her.”

Something sour curdles in Yelena’s gut for some reason. She swallowed hard, vaguely remembering being bored at the conversation as she waited to complete her mission. 

“Found it!” A voice called out. The artifact was revealed and the second man slapped the first man’s shoulder. 

“Look’s like you’ll be able to surprise Layla with an early return,” the man stated. 

Yelena felt like the breath was sucked out of her chest at the name. She ignored it, moving back to her original place so that the memory could play out as usual. 

She usually didn’t feel any different after going through the memory so many times but this time she just felt tired. Her body ached in an unfamiliar way and her chest was tight. Blood seeped through her suit in a familiar way and she started her stumble toward the altar. She paused just over the body of the first man and stared down at him. He was slumped over in a sitting position, his head bowed down as blood dripped off his nose and chin. Yelena could make out the tag of his jacket poking out. There was a last name branded on the jacket tag in black sharpie. 

El-Faouly. 

She felt sick. She squeezed her eyes shut and continued forward, hoping that if she just completed the stupid memory that she could move on to something nicer. 

Her conversation with Khonshu just made her think of how much she missed him and how much of an asshole he was before he mellowed out over the years. 

But the next memory that she went to was of her and Natasha, only it wasn’t them as children. Yelena was kneeling on the roof of a building, staring at Natasha’s face as her sister spoke to her as Dina. 

Yelena wasn’t sure what was special about that memory or why she was taken there next. Watching Natasha’s face as she pulled the mask from her head and not seeing any sign of recognition hurt her. Why was she getting bad memories? She didn’t want to remember this. 

“I think you knew my sister,” the words left Natasha’s lips and Yelena winced as she remembered the conversation. 

Why was she seeing this memory after the last one? Her first death was still fresh in her mind. Did she die and was being punished? 

Yelena remembered trying to comfort Natasha. She tried to give her all the things that she had wanted to say but never got the chance. She finally told her sister that it was real to her, that she was her sister even though they weren’t blood-related, that she was the best thing to ever happen to her, and that she loved her. Only she had to use third person because Natasha thought she was Dina, a girl who befriended Yelena before she died. 

Natasha thought she was a child and had tried to save her, and Yelena didn’t let her. 

The only thing that Yelena hated about her body was that she was a child. A child that had gotten a reputation with the other Gods apparently. The child that never ages, or so they say. While the body was good for undercover work, it was too hard to try and keep a somewhat legal life. Nobody would rent houses to her, she had to lie about fake parents to get motel rooms, and she had to lie about being homeschooled when caught out during school hours. Living with Layla made things easier, taking on the identity of Dina had given her some support and all Yelena had to mention was an “Aunt Layla” before people were swayed. 

But as much as she hated her body, she knew that it was the price she paid for immortality. Khonshu had literally brought her back to life and she doesn’t really understand the magic behind it but she figured that she would probably never age. In exchange for being with Khonshu, Yelena would give that up. She may not like it but she would deal with being a child forever as long as Khonshu didn’t leave her alone. 

“Will you come with me, Dina?” Natasha questioned, her face tired and resigned after hearing about Yelena’s first death. Natasha had offered her a small smile and outstretched her hand but Yelena had turned her down. 

As she climbed down from the roof, dropping from the fire escape ladder, she landed on a completely new memory. 

She recognized it immediately. It was a hit that had gone messy because there was more backup than Yelena had anticipated. 

She was seventeen at the time and angry at the world. The particular hit was for the Red Room, to send them a message. Khonshu had helped her set it up. He wanted to help her get vengeance. 

“Get the girl!” 

The sound of gunfire, men yelling into walkies as she crawled around cover, was all too familiar. She had blood in her eye from a near miss with a gun, a gash on her forehead nearly blinding her with the blood. Khonshu had to lead her. But rather than lead her out, he led her in. He wanted to finish the job just as much as she did. 

“Not yet,” Khonshu would tug on her vest, one quick, sharp yank to keep her behind cover if she tried to leave too early and was at risk of being caught. He was her eyes, peering around corners and keeping track of where the men were. 

When Yelena finished, breathing hard as she collapsed to her knees to catch her breath, she grinned up at him. “Not too shabby, huh?” She commented between harsh breaths. “We make a good team.” 

She was pretty sure that if Khonshu had eyes then he would be rolling them. “Get yourself off the floor, we must make ourselves scarce.” 

“Boo,” Yelena stuck her tongue out at him. “I get a minute to catch my breath, I earned it.” 

“Catch your breath faster then,” Khonshu huffed but then disappeared into the shadows to give her a few minutes to collect herself. 

When Yelena finally stood, she was in a different memory. 

“Stupid, no good, son of a bitch--” Yelena was kicking a nearby brick wall in frustration as she cussed in Russian under her breath. 

“Your anger will get you nowhere,” Khonshu commented from nearby. 

“This is your fault!” Yelena spun around and shoved a finger at him. “I’m stuck like this. They won’t give me a fucking motel room without a parent present! The seediest fucking motel where people go to do drugs and fuck hookers is suddenly concerned about giving a room to a kid!” 

“You are making a scene,” Khonshu said, waiting for her to finish her tantrum. 

“Fuck off!” Yelena childishly blew a raspberry at him. 

“You are angry,” Khonshu approached her and Yelena lost her defiant attitude quickly, shrinking in on herself as he loomed over her. “Anger is good fuel for vengeance but you are using it incorrectly. If you do not wish for others to see you as a child then you must not act like one. Get yourself together.”

Yelena stared down at her shoes, giving one last half-hearted kick to the ground. “What am I supposed to do then?” She was new to being freed from the Red Room, not even sixteen, and homeless on the streets in Belarus. “They won’t take my fucking money.” 

“You must be resourceful. You cannot claim to have no parentage,” Khonshu pulled away slightly and Yelena felt like she could breathe easier. “Use what you have. I know you can lie, my avatar. Do it.” 

Yelena huffed, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I just wanted to try and do things my way. I don’t want to do so many bad things still. I want to do things the legal way. The good way.”

“Who are you to define what is good and what is bad?” Khonshu inquired and Yelena stared at the broken pavement in the alley she was in. 

“Yeah,” Yelena sighed, running a hand over her face as she took a deep breath. “I guess.” She turned on her foot and exited the alley, stepping into yet another memory. 

“Why don’t the other Gods like you?” Yelena was laying in a motel bed, staring up at the popcorn ceiling in the middle of the night.

“That is not something for you to concern yourself with,” Khonshu was hunched over slightly to fit into the small room. 

“But if you don’t like them then why do you insist on me paying my respect to them?” Yelena glanced over at him. “You make me leave offerings and pray at their temples if we are ever nearby. If they don’t like you then why do you make me do it?” 

Khonshu was quiet and Yelena huffed but let the subject drop, staring up at the ceiling again. 

“They do not agree with the way that I do things,” Khonshu finally replied. “Although we do not get along, we didn’t always hold such views.” 

“What happened then?” Yelena propped herself up on an arm to turn her attention toward him. “Did you get into a fight?” 

“That is in the past,” Khonshu dismissed her easily. “You must rest. We have an early morning.” 

“You still didn’t answer my question,” Yelena pointed out, sighing as she rolled onto her back once again. “Why do you make me do it?” 

“You must learn to respect the other Gods,” Khonshu told her and Yelena rolled her eyes because she had heard the ‘respect other deities’ lecture before. “But--” He continued and Yelena tensed slightly in anticipation of the new information. “Some Gods are forgotten, with no one to pray to them. They are excitable over anyone who sacrifices or makes offerings in their name. It will earn you goodwill with them. They may just end up in your debt one day. And the one thing about Gods--” 

“They don’t like debts,” Yelena nodded her head, tucking her hand under her pillow as she rolled onto her side, facing Khonshu. “Why don’t all Gods have avatars?” 

“Rest before I make you rest,” Khonshu huffed and Yelena smiled as she snuggled deeper under the covers. 

“Yeah, okay. I hear you loud and clear,” she closed her eyes. “Thanks.” 

When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere new. It wasn’t a memory, she was on the Duat. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling on unsteady legs as the boat rocked while it traveled. 

“Little one!” 

Yelena jerked and spun around, relief filling her at the sight of Tawaret. “You’re here…” she breathed out. 

“Yup!” Tawaret grinned at her before it fell slightly. “I’m here on a favor to Layla.” 

Right. Yelena had forgotten that she had died. “Am I dead for good this time?” Yelena questioned, glancing over the side of the Duat to the fields of sand. “Have I died a final death?” 

Tawaret let out a hum, approaching where Yelena stood. “I don’t know.” The Goddess shrugged before looking down at her. “Would it bother you if you did?” 

Yelena almost said no, the words on the tip of her tongue when she paused. Dying scared her at first. Her very first death had terrified her. But with her passive views on death, having died more times than years she had lived, death lost meaning. Death had become a comfort, her ability to live in memories of her and her sister as children back when everything was okay. 

But then she met Layla. She barreled into the woman’s life and uprooted everything but Layla never once got upset with her. Layla had done nothing but look after her. Most people wouldn’t stay but Layla did. She fed and clothed her, she gave her a safe identity to presume, and she protected her body when Yelena couldn’t. 

Layla was never scared of her. She didn’t hesitate to drape an arm around her shoulders or shove a knife in her hand and order her to chop vegetables for dinner. Yelena got a type of peace that she never had since before the Red Room. 

And with Layla came her reunion with Natasha under the identity of Dina. 

Had she been asked a few months ago if dying a final death would bother her, Yelena would have said no. She knew what to expect on the other side. 

But with her life as it was at the moment, her answer changed. Maybe she had some things to make up for an untied ends to finish but she wanted to go back. 

“Yes.” She finally answered Tawaret’s question, feeling the Goddess stare at her. “It would.” 

Tawaret’s hand landed on her shoulder and Yelena realized that she was in her actual body and not her six-year-old self. 

“If I do end up dying a final death, could you pass a message onto Layla for me?” Yelena asked quietly. Tawaret let out a soft hum. “Could you tell her that I’m sorry?” 

“Sorry?” Tawaret echoed in confusion. 

“Sorry.” Yelena glanced back over at the sandy dunes as she nodded. “For leaving. For our unfinished vows. For bleeding on her wooden floor.” A small smile tugged at her lips as she took a deep breath. “And for being kind to me.” 

Tawaret nodded her head and Yelena knew that she would honor her word. 

“Would you… would you also keep an eye on my sister?” Yelena hesitantly inquired. “Natasha Romanoff. I know that we probably won’t see each other when we die because she doesn’t believe in Egyptian Gods but I’d like her to live a long and happy life.” 

“Consider it done,” Tawaret looked down at her, glancing away nervously as if she wanted to ask something but was unsure of how. “Are you scared?” 

“Of the end?” Yelena asked, soaking in the sight of the purple sky, orange sunlight peeking through clouds. “Maybe. I don’t know. I think I should be. Isn’t that what everyone is afraid of? The end?” 

“But you’re not everyone,” Tawaret hummed and Yelena shrugged slightly.

“I guess not…” Yelena leaned back into the hand bracing her shoulder. “I’m not ready for it to be the end yet.” 

“Nobody ever is,” Tawaret smiled down at her. “You were a good person.” 

“Was I?” 

“You helped more than you realize.” 

“Good enough for the Scales of Justice?” 

“I think so.” 

“Good.” 

The duo fell into silence and Yelena waited quietly for the eventual end. She’d either wake up or move on. 

She really wanted to wake up. 

Chapter Text

Natasha had to admit that finding out her dead sister wasn’t so dead and the existence of ancient Egyptian Gods wasn’t at all what she expected when she originally sought to liberate a young Widow. 

She had been taught to ‘expect the unexpected’ but nowhere on that list was resurrection or powerful beings that could kill her. She was sure that the whole thing would hit her later on after all the adrenaline had left her body and she crashed hard, but Natasha was good at organizing priorities, and having an existential crisis was not very high on that list. Her top mission was to secure Yelena and bring her back safe and sound and alive. 

But for the moment, she had to place her faith in the woman that took Yelena under her wing and was currently masquerading around as Scarlet Scarab. 

Natasha doesn’t quite understand what a “Council of the Gods” regarded but the entire trip there was filled with Layla rambling to her about formalities and reminded that they were actual Gods watching. Natasha could sum up the whole conversation in one sentence: Keep quiet and don’t do anything that would offend the Gods and get them killed.

Natasha ensured that before she actually met the council to leave Clint a text that she was going dark for a little bit before informing Maria that she was taking leave from SHIELD. Maria told her to get her ass back to headquarters but Natasha just being polite in informing her because she wasn’t asking. 

She knew that she had yet to see the physical form of a God but she hadn’t expected to walk into a room of average everyday adults. If she had passed by them on the streets, she wouldn’t have given them a second glance. She never would have raked her eyes over them and thought ‘puppeted by an ancient Egyptian God’. 

All eyes turned toward them when they entered the tomb. A man immediately stood from his seat to address them. “Where is the avatar of Khonshu?” He demanded. 

Layla grimaced slightly, letting out a small bow toward them. Natasha mimicked her, letting her take the lead. “I have a lot to catch you up on,” Layla spoke, her voice echoing in the large chamber. The woman was putting on her best front but Natasha could tell that she was nervous. 

Layla straightened and then cleared her throat before she started to catch the avatars up on everything she had told Natasha. When she finished, she had a small hopeful look on her face as she quietly requested their aid. 

One of the women stepped forward. “You said he was piloting his avatar’s body?” 

Layla nodded. “Apep killed her and Khonshu took over her body. I couldn’t stop him from leaving.” 

“A fight against the child that never ages,” the second woman murmured quietly. Natasha had heard that title before, it was one bestowed upon Yelena, her sister trapped in the body of a fifteen-year-old for the past five years. 

Natasha wasn’t sure how it worked but she doesn’t care. Yelena could be fifteen forever and Natasha would look after her all the same. She just wanted to bring her baby sister back safe and sound. As long as Yelena was alive and at her side then nothing else mattered. 

“--and who is this?” A question drew all eyes to Natasha. She was pinned under the curious stares of five avatars, and probably five Gods as well. 

“This is Natasha,” Layla commented, her hand landing on Natasha’s shoulder. “She’s a friend.” Layla’s tone was careful which told Natasha that she had to be very cautious of where she stepped next. 

She had done nothing to bring attention to herself but the first woman who inquired about Khonshu piloting Yelena’s body stepped forward and got close to Natasha and Layla. 

Natasha never claimed to be tall, the woman in front of her had only an inch or so on her in height, but her gaze made Natasha feel like she was minuscule. 

“You have no God tied to you,” the woman declared to the room, her eyes narrowing in on Natasha. “You are a mortal.” 

The words were spoken as if being mortal was beneath them. Natasha was trying to determine if the woman staring at her was a Goddess or just a snobby woman. 

“You dare to bring a mortal here, avatar of Tawaret?” The first man stepped forward, his gaze narrowing in on Layla. 

Layla’s face hardened as she straightened up. “I brought her here. She is a close friend of the avatar of Khonshu. She bore witness to him piloting his vassal.”

The woman inspected Layla, squinting her eyes at her. “Your Goddess is not here, is she, avatar of Tawaret?” 

“No.” Natasha could see Layla swallowing hard as she tried to keep herself collected. “She’s searching for the soul of the avatar of Khonshu and ensuring that she doesn’t cross over while waiting for her God to finish fighting.” 

Natasha’s heart squeezed uncomfortably in her chest. The thought of Yelena crossing over terrified her. She doesn’t want the last memory she had of her sister to be a knife slitting her throat open as she gurgled for air. 

“Unless Khonshu or Apep break the rules then we cannot intervene,” the third woman finally spoke up. 

“What?” Layla gasped before she slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean--” 

“Gods fight all of the time, especially using their avatars. When the fight is over, we will detain Khonshu to question him on his whereabouts,” the second man placated, his tone soft and soothing. 

“What does breaking the rules entail?” Natasha couldn’t help herself as she asked the question. The man’s gaze slid to peer at her. 

“Interfering in mortal affairs,” the first woman spoke, her hands clasped behind her back. She looked regal and ethereal, which made Natasha take the guess that she was not speaking to a fellow ‘mortal’. 

“Does killing avatars and taking over their body not count as interfering in mortal affairs?” Natasha raised an eyebrow. 

“Avatars aren’t considered mortal,” Layla finally spoke up, glancing at her. “The process of creating an avatar requires a piece of a God being placed inside a temporary vassal.”

“So you all are okay with Gods walking around in mortal bodies to fight?” Natasha asked incredulously, taking the hint that she was pushing too far when Layla shot her a glare. 

“You would do well to not question Gods, little girl,” the first man drew himself up and Natasha bristled at the name he addressed her as but made the decision to let it drop. For all she knew, a God was behind the driver's wheel and speaking to her, in which case she would probably seem like a little girl to him. 

“My apologies,” Natasha placated, letting her frame shrink in on itself in the picture of shame. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“Ease off of her, Osiris,” the second man rested a hand on the first man’s shoulder. “She does not understand our ways.” 

The first man, Osiris, grunts as he eyed Natasha. “We will make no move until we must,” he declared before he turned and walked back to his seat. “You are dismissed.” 

“C’mon,” Layla muttered to her, gently grasping her elbow to tug her out of the tomb. 

Natasha felt the wasted time slip through her fingers as their window of opportunity to help Yelena started to close. 

“--and then I poured cranberry juice all down her dress,” Yelena laughed, laying on the floor of the boat next to Tawaret as she told stories about her times with her God. “Khonshu told me that I was being childish so I told him that I couldn’t stand being babied by narcissistic rich women.” 

“Perhaps you were a little bit childish,” Tawaret chuckled, brushing off Yelena’s huff of indignation. “There is nothing wrong with that.” 

Yelena pursed her lips together before she let out another soft giggle. “Okay, yeah, maybe I was being a teeny tiny bit childish, but she started it.” 

“Of course,” Tawaret agreed easily and they both laughed again. 

“Oh! Did I tell you about this one time that I wanted to freak Khonshu out so I--” Yelena choked on her words as a wave of pain surged through her, seizing all of her muscles as her back arched in agony. Her whole body was on fire and she was burning. The pain was gone as quickly as it came, leaving Yelena gasping for air as her muscles ached. “What the fuck?” 

“Easy now,” Tawaret said softly when Yelena tried to sit up, a hand bracing her back to help her. 

“I thought I couldn’t feel pain when I was dead,” Yelena tried to take a few deep breaths. “Khonshu has taken my body through fights before, I never felt a thing.” 

Tawaret’s face was grim as rubbed Yelena’s back. “You have never fought a God before nor have you wielded the power of one.” 

“He’s fighting Apep right now?” Yelena demanded, fear seizing her heart. She had agreed to give him her body but she neglected to think about the ramifications of fighting an actual God. She thought that she would be safe while she was dead, nestled in her memories of a better time. 

“It would appear so,” Tawaret caught her head when another surge of pain hit her, this time centered on her right side. “Easy there. You’re alright.” 

Yelena wasn’t sure if it was because Tawaret was the Goddess of women and children or if it was just because she wanted the comfort but she was thankful that Tawaret was there with her. 

She had gotten used to the pain that came with being White Knight but never had she felt like her nerves were on fire or her blood was replaced with boiling water. Not even being shot in the head or having her neck slit hurt as much as fighting a God. 

A whimper of pain escaped her lips when it felt like her arm broke. There was no snap or deformities but Yelena knew the pain of a broken bone, having broken dozens over her years as not only White Knight but White Widow. 

“Shh, you are alright,” Tawaret gently tugged her onto her side as she jerked in pain once again. “Did you know that the first time I ever met Layla she screamed and threw a glass bottle at me?” 

Yelena latched onto Tawaret’s words, shaking her head the best she could as tears rolled down her cheeks to pool on the boat beneath her. 

“Not the worst way that I’ve been greeted before,” Tawaret continued and began to tell stories of Layla as her avatar. Yelena wanted to smile each time Tawaret would call Layla her ‘Little Scarab’ but she had no energy left within her to do so. 

Yelena curled into a tight ball, whimpering each time the ship went over a wave that sent a fresh pang of pain through her. “Do you think my body will still be intact?” She couldn’t help but interrupt. 

The smile fell off of Tawaret’s face as she was tugged from the memory of her and Layla. She stared down at Yelena as if debating upon telling her the truth before her frame sagged. “I don’t know, little one.” 

Yelena clenched her teeth together as the pain focused on her left thigh. She was going numb, the torturous burning just an aching throb that drained her. “I want Khonshu…” 

“I know,” Tawaret said even softer. 

Yelena squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on finding something else to think about. Her thoughts latched onto Khonshu and she sifted through memories to try and drown the pain out. She thought of late nights when Khonshu would teach her how to speak Arabic and Greek as well as read hieroglyphs. 

“I want to go home,” Greek left Yelena’s lips as a cramp in her abdomen made her curl in on herself tighter. 

Tawaret let out a soft gasp. “You speak Greek? Of course, you do, Khonshu must have taught you. I should teach Layla. Soaks up knowledge like a sponge, that one.” 

Just like that, Tawaret was off on another ramble about Layla, gushing about her accomplishments like a proud parent. 

Yelena let her cheek rest on the wood beneath her, taking a ragged breath with each wave they crossed. She was getting tired, something she hadn’t felt before while she was dead. She wanted to take a nap, to just curl up and give into the darkness. 

She closed her eyes and let herself drift in the darkness of her mind, detaching herself from the pain that kept burning through her. 

“Little one, you cannot rest,” Tawaret’s hand suddenly fell on her shoulder and Yelena flailed to try and get it off, the touch burning. Tawaret was undeterred and spoke again, her voice serious. “Yelena, you cannot sleep.” 

“I’m tired,” Yelena stared up at the purple sky, blinking slowly as she wondered when she opened her eyes. “I’m so sleepy, Tawaret.” 

“No, no, no,” Tawaret grabbed her shoulders, trying to tug Yelena to sit up. Yelena wiggled slightly in the hold but decided that it took too much energy. “Yelena, look at me. Khonshu’s powers are taking a toll on your body. Mortals are not meant to wield pure Godly powers. But if you sleep then I may not be able to guide you back out. Just hold on, Yelena.” 

Yelena let herself rock with the boat, like a baby in a cradle lulled to sleep by its mother. “I won’t sleep,” she promised, her head dipping down as her arm twitched with pain, unable to violently thrash anymore. “I just… need to rest my eyes for a moment…”

“Tell me about your sister,” Tawaret demanded. “Why did she never come to find you?” 

Yelena managed to pull her head up enough to peer at Tawaret in confusion. “She thought I was dead?” 

“Then why would you not seek her out?” Tawaret continued on, her voice still strong and firm. Her questions were confusing Yelena, she wondered if she blanked in the middle of a conversation they were having. “I saw the magazine clippings. She was right there? What stopped you?” 

Yelena tried to keep her thoughts straight as she answered when Tawaret asked a question that made her freeze. 

“So you think you’re better than her because she’s just a human,” Tawaret’s voice wasn’t kind anymore. 

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Yelena confessed, letting her head flop back as she tried to think. “My sister is fine the way she is.” 

“But she will never be you. She will never have a God of her own. She will be just small and weak. She only gets one life--” Tawaret continued on. 

“Stop talking about my fucking sister!” Yelena wiggled in Tawaret’s grip, trying to kick a foot out but gritted her teeth together at the pain that shot up her leg with the action. “She’s not weak, she’s perfect! She’s my sister! She’s an Avenger, she saves people!” 

“Good,” Tawaret gripped her chin with one hand, yanking her head up to look at her. “Hold onto that anger, Yelena. Tether it to you and don’t let go. Keep fighting, you have something to prove, you have people to go back to.” 

Yelena had been angry before. Anger made her reckless and she would sometimes see just how far she could push before she was on the verge of shattering. She was no stranger to anger, it was a familiar companion. 

Yelena secured the rope around her waist, tethering herself to the anchor that was bitter anger, the kind that left her screaming and lashing out at Khonshu because of the hand that life dealt her. 

All she could do was simmer in anger and pain, and hope that there would be a body left for her to return to when the fight was done.

Chapter Text

Clint knew that his partner had many quirks and that she would often do things that made sense to nobody but her. He was content to just follow along and learned to not question the way she did things until she was ready to explain. 

Getting a text from her that she was going dark for a little while was not out of character for her. She would slip under the radar for a little bit, often when overwhelmed, and Clint could respect that. 

So when he got one of the usual “going dark” texts, he merely gave her a thumbs-up emoji as a reply and that was that. He focused back on life and was content to leave things be. 

Then he got another text not too much later after the first, something odd when she would go dark. She would usually be radio silent during that period. He had been busy at the time, knowing that she could get in contact with him if it was urgent. 

When Clint finally saw the texts and his blood ran cold. 

9:23 PM 

Tasha: do you believe in higher powers?

Tasha: like do you think we come back after we die?

Natasha was often oblivious to how worrying the things she said were at times. For all that Clint knew, she was visiting a church. Or she was burying a dead body. Or she was hurt. 

9:44 PM

Tasha: i no longer need to share the other half of my cupcake with you. 

He thought of the same day every year that she would go dark and how he would sometimes tag along, unsure of the significance of the date but understood how meaningful it was when she would shed tears. They’d split a single cupcake and they would go to an animal shelter. He doesn’t understand why she would mention it. 

9:47 PM

Tasha: he took her from me. 

Tasha: i can’t let her slip away again.

9:55 PM

Tasha: there is nothing that will stop me from completing my task. don’t come after me

The final one had Clint’s heart dropping into his stomach. 

10:01 PM

Tasha: i’m sorry. 

11:34 PM

Clint: where r u? 

Clint: ???

Clint: remember how we talked about thinking before we act? 

Clint: Tasha.

Clint: Nat.

Clint: Natasha. 

Clint: If you don’t pick up then I’m gonna sic Maria on you. 

11:38 PM

Clint: don’t make me track you down. I won’t make it fun for either of us

11: 51 PM

Clint: don’t get yourself killed until i arrive

Each text had gone unanswered and Clint sighed as he started to pack his things up so he could go and drag his partner back from whatever undeniably weird situation that she had found herself in. 

“So what is the plan now?” Natasha demanded, gesturing around her. “We’re in the middle of fucking Egypt, your Gods won’t give us any help, and for all I know Yelena’s body is nothing more than pink mist on the ground!” 

“Shut up!” Layla snapped at her, running a hand over her head. “Just-- lemme think!” 

Layla paced in the sand anxiously, counting under her breath with each step as she tugged at her hair. 

Finally, Layla turned to look at her, stopping in her tracks. “I have to join the fight.” 

“I thought you said we couldn’t?” Natasha growled in frustration, resisting the urge to slam Layla into the ground and demand her to find better answers. 

“I said that you and I couldn’t,” Layla corrected but that still left Natasha clueless. “But my Goddess can join.” 

“How?” Natasha could not follow all the rules that came with being an avatar to a God. 

“Just as Yelena’s God took over her body, and Nour’s God took over her body, I need my Goddess to take over mine,” Layla swallowed hard, looking nervous. 

“You don’t sound very confident in your plan,” Natasha pointed out, watching as Layla hunched in on herself. 

“Yeah, well…” Layla kicked at the sand with her boot, letting out a large sigh. “You heard what Yelena’s God said. He’s going to try and bring her body back to us. He wasn’t just being an asshole…” She tilted her head back to stare up at the sky. “Human bodies are not meant to wield Godly powers. Our Gods can pilot us safely and use small amounts of their powers while possessing us. But two Gods full-out brawling to the death is not something that humans come back from really.”

Natasha let out a long exhale as she realized what Layla wasn’t saying. “It’s practically a suicide mission then?”

Layla rubbed the back of her neck, wincing at the words. “Essentially? Yeah….”

“You would really kill yourself for this?” Natasha inquired, watching as Layla shrunk in on herself in defense. “Would you really die for Yelena?” 

Layla scoffed. “Of course I would,” she said, no hesitation in her tone. “I love that kid to bits.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “It was my understanding that you two haven’t known each other that long.” 

“So?” Layla shrugged, a small smile crossing her face. “Watching a stranger bleed out on your living room floor will really forge strong bonds.” 

Natasha doesn’t know how to reply to that. “So our only idea is a suicide mission,” she states. The fondness faded from Layla’s face as she slowly dipped her head into a nod. “Okay… how do we do that?” 

“We?” Layla echoed and Natasha nodded her head firmly. 

“I don’t care about your foolish rules regarding Gods and their fights. That’s my little sister and I’m not letting her go again,” Natasha said firmly, making her stance known.

Layla nodded her head, folding her arms as she let out a soft sigh. “Okay. We’re doing this then. I just need to make sure that my Goddess is alright with it.” 

Natasha waited for a moment before she tilted her head to the side. “How… do you do that?” 

Layla winced, shrinking in on herself. “Uh, I sent her away to check on the kid. I dunno if she can hear me. I might… I don’t want to make this weird or anything--” 

Natasha waved her off. “I doubt that whatever you do will be any weirder than the last twenty-four hours of my life.” 

Layla nodded. “Fair enough,” she conceded. “Let’s get somewhere safe. I need to make a small offering and pray.” 

“Alright.” Natasha gestured to the vast sandy dunes. “Lead the way.” 

Clint would be the first to admit that he wasn’t a genius. He was a brilliant agent but he always had someone pulling the strings. They’d point him in a direction, shove a bow in his hands, and off he’d toddle like a good little soldier. He doesn’t have to piece together crime scenes very often and his partner was usually the one who was good at that sort of thing. 

Unfortunately, his partner was the person that he was trying to find. Clint knew that White Knight was probably at the center of the whole thing so he couldn’t bring SHIELD in on it without getting Natasha in trouble. The last thing he needed was to rescue Natasha but then have White Knight be arrested by SHIELD. His partner was determined to save whoever they were and would undoubtedly kick his ass if he let them get captured. 

Clint wasn’t even going to delve into the whole ‘child assassin’ thing that they had going on. He had his orders to stay far away from them so he couldn’t let anyone know that he was blatantly disobeying them. 

So he went to the first place he could think of to look for evidence: Natasha’s little hidey-hole. 

It was an apartment that Maria secured for Natasha for those days when she just wanted to run and hide. Very few people knew where it was. 

The only piece of evidence that Clint could find was that Natasha was looking into someone named Nour Sohl. She hadn’t wiped her computer, something that rang alarm bells in Clint’s head because his partner was no rookie when it came to not leaving traces behind. Either Natasha was so frazzled that she made a simple mistake or she had wanted someone to find it. 

Clint dug around in his partner’s laptop. He found that she was running DNA that matched to the woman she was researching. That gave Clint a good starting point. 

He looked up prior addresses to Nour Sohl and went on his way. 

“You were foolish,” Apepe smirked, circling around the body trying to catch its breath. “To pick a child as your vassal.” 

“You were foolish…” Khonshu tried to gather himself up, small limbs burning with fatigue as the lungs struggled to inflate. “To pick a fight with my avatar.” 

“You could have let her go,” Apep moved forward, grabbing a handful of white suit to yank him up to his feet. “Cut your ties. We could have worked something out. I wouldn’t have had to kill my avatar if you just let her have the stupid girl.” 

“That is where you are wrong,” Khonshu gripped the wrist grabbing the suit, fingers tingling with power as he burned the flesh of his enemy’s vassal. “She is mine.”

“Do you usually get so attached to your playthings?” Apep shoved him away, grinning as Khonshu stared at the own damaged flesh on the hand he used. “You’re going to burn right through her body at this point. Just give in.” 

Lightning cracked through the air, the smell of ozone burning as fresh skin slowly knitted together over burned tissue. 

“I will die before you get my avatar,” Khonshu declared, righting himself as he shrugged off the pain and fatigue that he hadn’t felt in eons. 

Apep let out a roar and they dashed toward each other once again. “Then die!” 

Layla was indeed having second thoughts about her half-baked plan, not that she would let the Avenger in her living room know that. 

A suicide mission. Layla was planning to go on a suicide mission for a kid she had known for less than a year. 

That doesn’t change the fact that she loved Yelena like a sister. It was time for things to end. Layla only had to hope that after she died, if Yelena went with her, then they could be together on the other side. 

She wondered if being dead hurt. She had never thought to ask Yelena whether she could still feel the hurt after dying in a painful way. Yelena never spoke about her deaths very much and Layla always felt it inappropriate to ask. 

Would she see her father again? Would she have to pick an afterlife? 

Would her heart even weigh on the Scales Of Justice? 

Throughout her racing thoughts, Layla prayed, having burned one of Tawaret’s favorite muffins for her. She needed to get through to Tawaret, even though she loathed the thought of leaving Yelena alone in limbo. 

“Layla?” 

Layla jumped, opening her eyes to see Tawaret looming above her with concern in her eyes. 

“I could feel your fear. You’re scared. What happened?” Tawaret fussed over her, looking for any injuries.

“The Council was no help,” Layla said, startling Natasha who whipped her head around to try and see Tawaret. “We must do things ourselves.” 

“How is she?” Natasha stepped forward, her eyes raking the room for a figure she couldn’t see. “Is she alright?” 

“Her body is having a hard time wielding the power of a God,” Tawaret answered although Natasha would not hear. “She is struggling.” 

“Her God is fighting and it’s taking a toll on her body but she is alright,” Layla settled upon relaying to Natasha before turning her attention back to her Goddess. “I have a request to make of you.” 

Tawaret’s face smoothed out into something akin to disappointment and Layla already knew that Tawaret was aware of what she would ask. 

“I’m sorry,” Layla told her. She refused to be sorry about helping someone she cared about, for finally putting an end to things, but she was sorry that Tawaret would have to find another avatar so soon. 

“You realize what you are asking of me?” Tawaret asked in an unusually somber tone. 

“I do,” Layla inclined her head, staring down at her feet. “I thank you for graciously giving me the opportunity to serve you but this is something I must do.”

Tawaret’s hand settled on her shoulder. “I know,” she said softly. “That is why I will do it.” 

Layla nodded her head slowly, taking a deep breath. “I, uh… suppose that I should get my things in order quickly. Just in case.”

Layla had to cling to that sliver of hope that she would make it out on the other side. 

“I will be here when you are ready,” Tawaret assured her. 

Clint recognized the broken door when he came across it. His heart sank into his stomach as he realized that someone had broken into the abandoned apartment complex a few blocks away from Nour Sohl’s apartment, albeit they had been careful. It was near the alleyway where her daughter had died and Clint figured that if any woman was going to go batshit crazy then they’d at least want to stay near the last place her daughter had been alive. 

He jimmied the lock that was already broken to let him inside carefully. The first floor was clear and he could hear no sounds of anybody inside. However, there was a distinct smell of something metallic and foul. 

He followed the scent down the stairs and nearly gagged at the sight, leaning against the wall to regain his balance. 

There was a table with restraints on it, coated in congealed blood that was starting to crust and flake as it dried. There were knives spread along a tray and bloodied footprints tracking on the floor. 

As Clint swallowed down nausea, he approached the tray and saw that there were a few fingernails and a tooth, all bloodied and with signs of being removed with force. 

Someone had been tortured in the abandoned apartment right next to where a little girl had died. 

He immediately started to look for signs of his partner, for any indication that she had ever been there. He hoped that she wanted to still be found. 

“Don’t make me call in SHIELD,” Clint murmured to himself, praying that he would not have to report Natasha as going AWOL and possibly in danger. “I don’t wanna deal with the paperwork.” 

Then he saw it. A small crack in the wall from being kicked. 

Natasha had her own fair share of meltdowns over the years and Clint had seen her get frustrated enough to knock things over, slam her fist against tables, or even kick the wall in order to stop herself from homicidal tendencies. 

SHIELD ordered special boots for their agents meant to protect their feet in rough conditions. They were steel-toed, with grips on the bottom for better traction in all terrains. Clint could easily recognize the crack of a steel-toed boot slammed against the wall a few times, having seen his friend do it enough at SHIELD that Maria set aside a small budget specifically to repair whatever Natasha breaks. 

So Natasha was here at one point. Great! Where was she now? 

Clint sighed and turned to look at the evidence. 

He could put together a few clues, right? 

Chapter Text

Yelena hadn’t realized how much Tawaret’s presence helped her until she was gone. She felt like there was nothing to do but lay in a ball on the ground and hope that she still had a body to go back to. 

There would be a point where Khonshu simply couldn’t heal her. Maybe she could survive a few missing fingers or teeth, and she could probably regrow an eye or tongue, but there were simply a few things she wouldn’t be able to survive, namely a beheading or severe damage to her head. 

That wasn’t to say that she hadn’t had damage to her head already. She had been shot through the skull executioner style before and Khonshu had been able to close the hole and repair the damage to her brain. Maybe Yelena’s coordination was off for a little while and maybe her memories of certain periods were fuzzy, but she had always come back. 

She thought of Layla and Natasha. They had arrived right before she died. She wondered how Natasha was handling the death of the girl she only ever wanted to help. She wondered if Natasha blamed herself.

Then she couldn’t help but think of how Khonshu was in her body. Had Natasha seen her rise? Did she try to help the girl she thought was Dina? Had Khonshu threatened her? 

It then dawned on Yelena that Khonshu had never really liked Natasha and a cold feeling spread through her body at the thought that he may have just killed her.

Natasha was a sensitive subject and always had been. Khonshu never really understood why Yelena collected the clippings of Natasha like some weirdo and he would often scold her for getting distracted whenever she saw news articles featuring a glimpse of her sister. 

Yelena couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t allow herself to have her sister so she had to settle on pictures and video recordings, watching the news just to see if there was a mention of the Avengers. Each time that Yelena found some piece of merchandise featuring “The Black Widow”, she would stop and stare. They would plaster her face on things that she wouldn’t like. That hadn’t stopped Yelena from lifting a bottle of Black Widow Berry shampoo from the store just so she had a picture of Natasha she could stare at during bad nights curled on the floor of the shower.

Khonshu knew how much Natasha meant to her. If he was his grumpy self and still held a grudge then Yelena had no doubt he might threaten or actually kill her. 

If he does so, Yelena wasn’t sure what she would do. That was one thing she wouldn’t be able to forgive. 

Yelena would follow Khonshu to the ends of the earth. She would do his bidding, she would give her body for him to use, and she would accept whatever job, but she would not be able to forgive him for killing her sister. 

She then had to shake her head and try to crawl out of her mind. It would do no good to worry over possibilities.

Another surge of pain gripped her and Yelena whimpered, pressing her cheek against the floor. 

She just had to focus on surviving.

Clint realized where he had to go next when he got messages from SHIELD that there were two inhumans or aliens that were fighting on a rooftop and it was getting out of control quickly. 

Well, that made it easy to guess where he was supposed to go. If there was anything, his partner was definitely the type to get caught up in aliens. 

And with White Knight, it was a great probability that the child soldier was part of it. 

Clint sighed and started to make his way toward the reported building hoping that he could find some way to settle things before SHIELD arrived. 

Natasha politely does not mention how Layla’s hands shook as they made their way toward the building where Tawaret supposedly said that Yelena and the other God were fighting. 

“I will be there,” Natasha commented. Layla gave her a small glance of confusion. “I will provide support the best I can.” 

Layla paused in her tracks. “You can’t join in a fight with three Gods.” 

“What part of ‘I’m going to rescue my sister’ is hard for you to comprehend?” Natasha asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“But--” Layla opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly unsure of what to say. “Do you have a death wish?” 

“Oh, so you can kill yourself to get someone you care about back but I can’t?” Natasha watched as Layla stared at her with wide eyes. “I’m a Black Widow assassin. I’ve dealt with Gods before, even ones that were trying to kill each other.”

“I mean, yeah, but that was part of the Avengers,” Layla commented. She then stopped. “Would they consider this an Avenger-level threat?” 

“I hope not.” The last thing Natasha needed was for her coworkers to show up. Things would get messy concerning White Knight and Natasha doubted that her word would be good enough to stop them from locking her sister up. 

Yelena had killed SHIELD agents. Natasha wasn’t sure why, Yelena had just insisted that she doesn’t kill innocents. The reminder that her baby sister was still killing people made Natasha’s heart clench. 

“Well, whatever happens, happens,” Layla said quietly before glancing at Natasha. “I don’t know how much use you’ll be though,” she admitted. 

“Gods or not, they’re still in human bodies, right?” Natasha pointed out. “Maybe they have some fucked up healing factor--” Natasha was not going to think of the way she saw her baby sister get her throat slit and then sit up minutes later. “But I think I can hit them enough to give some openings. You just need to destroy the body they’re using, right?” 

“I think so,” Layla turned to look on the other side of her, tilting her head up to peer at something that Natasha couldn’t see. “Yeah. If we destroy Nour’s body then that will allow the Council to deal with the God behind it.” 

Natasha took stock of the weapons that she had brought with her. “Anywhere I should aim in particular? Head? Knees?”

“Hands,” Layla said without hesitation. It’s easiest to channel power that way. Get rid of the hands and get rid of their main source of power. 

“Hands,” Natasha repeated. Hands were often harder to hit but she would do what she could. 

“Oh fuck…” Layla suddenly breathed out, staring up at the sky, and Natasha craned her head up to see what Layla was looking at. 

The moon was visible in the sky, which wasn’t uncommon during the afternoon but it was definitely brighter than it should have been. The sharp scent of ozone permeated the air and Natasha could see flashes of light and smoke coming from the top of the building. 

“At least they’re not destroying the city,” Natasha couldn’t help but comment. “That’s oddly thoughtful of them.” 

“They can’t fly in mortal form. One really just has to chuck the other off the building to end it,” Layla stated. “But they’re pretty evenly matched.” 

“Hopefully you’ll be able to tip the odds,” Natasha commented as they entered the building and started to make their way up the stairs. They had about twenty floors to make their way up but the last thing they needed was for the elevator to break with them in it. 

Natasha pulled out her grapple gun and glanced at Layla. “C’mere and hold onto me.” 

Layla peered over at her and eyed the grapple gun before shuffling closer. She had summoned her Scarlet Scarab armor which pressed uncomfortably against Natasha as she wrapped an arm around her. 

Natasha aimed and shot a grapple, grunting slightly at the extra weight but not unable to support it. She’d done something similar with Clint many times and he was much heavier than Layla was, even in her armor. 

As they get closer to the top floor, the metallic smell of blood saturated the air along with the smell of burnt flesh. Natasha had to take a moment to swallow down the contents of her stomach as she gathered herself. 

“Are you ready?” Natasha asked, glancing at Layla as she stared at the door to the roof. 

“I… yeah…” Layla nodded firmly before she took a deep breath. “I, uh… I appreciate you coming with me.”

Natasha wasn’t quite sure what to say but offered Layla a nod in return. 

Layla glanced to her side moments before her body language abruptly changed. When Layla looked back at her, her deep brown eyes were a glowing golden color. 

“You’re her… Goddess?” Natasha questioned, watching as the Goddess piloted Layla’s body like a professional puppeteer. 

“I am.” The voice that left Layla’s mouth was a little higher. “Would you do me a small favor?” 

The sharp scent of blood got heavier and Natasha knew that they had to intervene soon. “What is it?” 

“If I destroy the body, will you ensure she gets buried next to her father?” The Goddess inquired. 

Natasha figured that she could do that. “Yeah. I should be able to do that.” 

The Goddess smiled at her before she looked at the door in contempt. She then opened the door and Natasha took in the sight of the bloodbath. 

There on the rooftop was a woman and child, pushing and pulling at each other. Each figure had severe damage to their bodies. Burns, cuts, gashes, deep wounds in their skin, missing fingernails and teeth. Natasha could see the wounds healing on each body slowly, carefully knitting together severe damage. 

Layla’s Goddess, Tawaret, wasted no time in surging forward to join the battle. The God in the woman’s body, Apep, staggered backward in surprise. 

“This is not your fight!” He growled as Tawaret positioned herself between them. “Move.” 

The God in her sister’s body, Khonshu, held his abdomen where blood was soaking through rapidly. He was breathing harshly, unused to the physical limitations of a teenager’s body. 

“You will stand down,” Tawaret ordered Apep, straightening up. “Or you will fall by my hand.” 

Apep’s eyes narrowed. “Do your worst.” 

Tawaret took over fighting for Khonshu, letting the body catch up with healing. Natasha had to position her aim carefully, ensuring that she doesn’t hit Layla or Yelena. She may not kill them but she doesn’t want to disable them in any way either. 

When she got a good opening, Natasha lined her aim and took the shot, a bullet piercing through Apep’s hand. 

Apep whipped around to look at her, growing as he lunged for her. Natasha scrambled back, unaware of exactly how strong the body was with a God inside of it. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Tawaret lurched forward to grab at Apep but he flicked her away, causing her to skid across the rooftop near the edge. Natasha moved to circle the perimeter but, with a speed she hadn’t anticipated, a hand wrapped around her ankle as she rolled forward. 

“Let her go!” Khonshu roared, colliding with Apep and they stumbled away from Natasha. 

Tawaret recovered and made to go to cover behind Apep. She jumped on his back, causing Apep to stagger. Tawaret braced her hands on his head and Natasha heard a loud crack as her hands twisted. 

Momentarily, Apep’s body dropped a gurgling escaping the mouth. Natasha wasn’t as foolish to believe that it was over. 

It was eery to hear the snap and crunching as a head that was bent at an awkward angle was suddenly jerked upright again. Natasha felt sick to her stomach as Apep lunged and wrapped his hands around Tawaret’s ankles. The armor there melted and Natasha realized that not only was Apep healing the damage done to him but was also careless about the damage he did to himself. She could see the burnt flesh on his palms when he pulled his hands away as Khonshu yanked him back.

Apep was being careless with the damage he dealt to his body because he could heal. Natasha just had to figure out how fast he healed in order to come up with a plan to deal too much for him to fix all at once. She just had to lure him into a trap. 

So as much as it pained her to wait, Natasha perched herself on the ledge of the building and watched. 

For every blow that was dealt to Apep, the God hit twice as hard. He doesn’t seem afraid of burning through his body.

As Natasha watched, she realized that that was exactly what he was counting on. He never expected his body to hold up, he just wanted to ensure that when he went down he took the others with him. 

She wanted to jump into the fight but realized that the Gods were summoning weapons from thin air and it was just too dangerous. She’d die in an instant if she attempted to get involved. 

Natasha tried to focus on Apep and see if she could detect any patterns but her eyes kept drifting to the smallest figure. The mask that usually covered White Knight’s face had a large gash in it, revealing underneath an eye and part of the nose and mouth. 

When Natasha first saw the face behind White Knight, all she saw was a child that was bathed in violence, branded on her skin as a reminder. She had seen Dina El-Faouly, an ex-Widow. 

She had not been able to properly remember her sister’s face. She’d remember the ghost of a six-year-old and the staticky memory of watching the death of her fifteen-year-old sister. She never considered the possibility of the girl sitting in front of her on that rooftop being the girl she had so fondly recalled, and had so desperately mourned. 

She hadn’t recognized her sister but her sister had recognized her. How much had it hurt her for someone she cared about so much to gaze upon her like a stranger? 

Why hadn’t Yelena said something? Natasha asked her, she thought that she had found someone Yelena cared about, she thought that maybe since she couldn’t save Yelena then she could save someone who knew her. 

But Yelena didn't correct her assumptions. She reassured her, comforted her, and waited. 

She waited for recognition. Natasha mistook her body language when seeing her face for the first time as shame for her scars. 

Natasha had let her down enough times. 

There was currently a God inside the body of her sister. There was blood coating her frame, spat from between damaged lips and wiped away from her nose with a sleeve that does nothing more than smear it. 

Apep threw Tawaret and she tumbled toward the ledge of the roof. Natasha realized that she wasn’t going to stop in time and lurched forward, barely managing to snag her arm. Tawaret gripped her hard, trying to push herself back up, not used to a human body. 

Natasha tried to tug her up but she was heavy with armor and slick with blood. 

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and caught sight of Apep knocking Khonshu down, keeping him down with a foot planted on his chest as he held up his wrist to display two blades resembling snake fangs. 

Khonshu peered up at him, chest heaving as the one eye peeking out from behind the mask gazed up with anger. 

Apep moved to land a finishing kill. Watching the arm lift gave Natasha the strength to finish pulling Tawaret up and once the body was back on solid ground, Natasha ran right for Apep. 

She wasn’t going to watch her sister die. Not again. 

Apep may be a God but he was also in the body of a woman. Natasha easily barreled into him, knocking him off of her baby sister. They tumble onto the ground but Natasha was easily overpowered by the God. 

She peered up at the face of a woman she only knew through pictures, one that was once softened by the girl at her side. Natasha would have known a pain similar to her, she could have talked her out of it, convinced her that owing a God the right to her body was not a good deal. 

Gone was the woman from the photographs, nothing left behind but an empty shell, a hollow sleeve of skin that was contorted into whatever it's master willed. The face once marred with laugh lines was twisted into anger and hate, a malicious grin playing at the lips as carefully manicured nails pressed down on Natasha’s neck. 

Natasha choked, attempting to pry the hands from her neck, to reverse their position, but she was helpless against a God. 

Was there where her road stopped? Would SHIELD eventually arrive to find her body prostrated on the gravel rooftop? Had she erased enough red in her ledger for a peaceful afterlife? Had she done enough good? 

Clint used to tell her that dying with good intentions was a good death. He promised her that the moment she defected that she would be okay. 

Staring up at the sky that had darkened far too much for a late afternoon, watching the clouds drift past the full moon, Natasha wondered if Yelena felt how she did when she died. Was she scared? Had she accepted it? Had she pleaded for more time? Or had she wanted out so badly that dying was better than returning to the hell that was the Red Room? 

Natasha was no stranger to death. She grew up in it, she had befriended it as a child, and she had given it so many that weren’t ready for it yet. She never pretended to be naive about her own mortality, she had her own brushes with death, but at that moment there was just an eery calm that washed over her. Her limbs felt heavy and she suddenly had no strength left to grip the hands pressing against her windpipe. Her lungs screamed for air, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to gasp for air. 

Black spots decorated her vision, slowly clouding her view of the sky. 

She wished that she could have told Yelena she was sorry. That she never forgot her. That she loved her. She had so much she wanted to say. 

She just hoped her sister knew. 

“Hey!” A voice growled from her left. Natasha had no strength left to even turn her head. The youthful voice of White Knight grew closer, a low undertone of something unworldly growling just after her. “Get the fuck off of my sister!” 

The pressure on her was suddenly gone and she greedily sucked in as much air as she could, the sudden surge of oxygen causing her vision to grow dark anyway. 

Darkness claimed her as she stared up at the moon. 

Chapter Text

Yelena usually was able to expect whenever Khonshu would revive her because he’d guide her back out through doors and she’d usually wake up on a bed of some sort at whatever motel Khonshu was able to get in the body of a fifteen-year-old. 

Never before had he ripped her out, unexpecting and dizzying. She had gone from curled up on the floor of the boat to sudden overwhelmingly intense pain all through her. It was hard to breathe, her mouth tasted like blood, and she was pretty sure that her nose was healing from a hard break. 

“Focus, my child,” Khonshu’s voice echoed in her ear but when Yelena turned to look for him, her body suddenly jerked back to face forward. “Eyes on the battlefield!” 

“What’s going on?” Yelena demanded, reaching her hands up to look at her palms, tattered remains of her gloves frayed, fabric melted into her burned skin. “Are you--” 

“Focus!” Khonshu barked and Yelena jerked her hands down to focus back on the battlefield. “I brought you back because you are more intimate with fighting than I am. It has been a long time since I have been in a battle.” 

Yelena couldn’t find it in her to make a quip about him being an old man, still trying to suck in sharp breaths through her tight chest. 

“It hurts,” she managed to squeeze out. 

“I know,” his tone was apologetic and the phantom sensation of him looming over her comforted her immensely. “But I am here with you. I have handed over some control. Focus on the battle.” 

“I missed you,” Yelena managed to choke out, her eyes sweeping over what she recognized to be a rooftop. 

“Do not get soft with me,” Khonshu ordered, a fondness lacing his tone before Yelena took an unconscious step forward. “Save your sister.” 

That had Yelena able to push herself forward toward where Apep was kneeling on the rooftop, finally able to see that he was pressing down on her sister’s windpipe. Anger rocketed through her and she found herself with more strength surging through her with each step she took. 

“Hey!” She called out. “Get the fuck off of my sister!” She reached out when she was close enough and grabbed Apep’s collar to yank him back and toss him off. 

She had no time to ensure that her sister was alright nevertheless still alive before she engaged in a battle with Apep. 

Apep fought like no other opponent she had before. It was an odd fighting style and he kept summoning a staff or trying to swipe at her with two pointed blades on his wrist. 

Sharing a body with Khonshu meant that the God would make sudden decisions without informing her and she would go to make a move only for her to jerk out of the way of something. 

“You cannot die again,” Khonshu told her firmly and Yelena picked up on the tinge of frustration. “I may not be able to bring you back should you do so. This is no game.” 

Playing on the defensive was never something Yelena was good at. She usually threw herself headfirst into the fight and nursed whatever wounds she got later, putting up with the chiding of her God as she bitched about how much she hurt. 

The sound of Natasha groaning caught her attention and she caught sight of her sister trying to push herself to her hands and knees. Yelena slowly edged backward until she could swipe her sister’s feet out from under her. 

“Stay down!” Yelena ordered. She couldn’t keep focus if Natasha tried to join the fight. 

“Yelena--” Natasha wheezed, her voice raspy as a ring of reddish-purple already lined her neck. 

“Down!” Yelena ignored the way her chest twinged and focused on where she had last shoved her knife at him. 

“Sorry I’m late!” Layla, or rather Tawaret, suddenly appeared. Dread filled Yelena at the sight of her because it was just one more person to keep safe. 

“Focus on your opponent. Forget about them,” Khonshu ordered firmly. “You cannot win if you do not focus.” 

“I’m trying,” Yelena grit out, setting her sights on where she had last knocked Apep down. “How do I keep them down?” 

“Use the move on the leg that incapacitates them,” Khonshu instructed. Yelena knew that Khonshu wasn’t too familiar with her style of fighting but always supported her and kept an eye out for her whenever she did. 

So Yelena jerked a finger from Tawaret to Natasha. “Keep her down,” she ordered, hoping that she wouldn’t get into too much trouble for ordering around a Goddess. 

Yelena doesn’t even bother to check to see if Tawaret obeyed, instead charging forward toward where Apep was trying to heal a rather large wound in the stomach. Yelena slid on the ground, using her knife as she passed to slice through the Achilles tendon. 

Apep collapsed immediately and Yelena rolled over onto her knees, ignoring the scrapes she got from the rooftop, and instead threw her leg over the body to shove Apep’s head against the floor

“What are you doing?” The sudden sound of Nour’s voice leaving the mouth had Yelena freezing from where she leveraged a knife over her head. “I thought you liked me. I was kind to you and this is how you repay me?” 

“It’s a trick,” Khonshu rumbled. “She’s dead. Finish her.” 

“I can take care of you. You and me, remember?” Nour’s voice continued. “Why are you hurting me?”

Yelena’s hand shook as she tried to shove her hand down. Nour had been the first bit of maternal kindness that she had in a long time. Nour knew what it was like to have loved and lost a daughter, and in a lot of ways she reminded Yelena of what could have been if she had never left Ohio. 

“You’re not a monster, you’re a child,” Nour’s soft voice continued. 

“Shut. Up.” Yelena gritted out, pressing down harder on the head. She readjusted her grip on the blade in her hand but she lost her chance. Apep immediately took advantage of her hesitation and rolled them over, shoving the two blades on their wrist into Yelena’s chest. 

It hurt nearly as much as the first time. Yelena’s hand swiped without her telling it to and Apep roared with pain as they stumbled back, three fingers missing from their hand. 

“Get up,” Khonshu ordered firmly and Yelena found herself pushing herself to sit up, wondering just how much of it was Khonshu and how much was her. 

Yelena pushed herself to her feet, blood splattering onto the ground below her. Her whole body ached. She was tired. She just wanted to lie down. 

“It is merely the blood loss, my child,” Khonshu informed her and Yelena tried to shrug it off. “You are strong. Focus.” 

Yelena wasn’t sure how much blood she had already lost, her heart beating far too fast in her chest to be safe. 

Apep reared toward her, anger twisting on the face that Yelena associated with wistfulness. 

“Focus!” Khonshu ordered her and Yelena realized she was getting lost in her head, stepping out of the way moments before Apep collided with her. Apep stumbled and Yelena grabbed the back of their shirt, slicing through their neck with one quick motion. 

Blood sprayed and Apep gurgled as they collapsed. Yelena took a few harsh breaths, staring down at the figure. 

“Finish him off!” Khonshu ordered. 

Yelena felt far too heavy. She needed more energy. She needed to gather strength. She racked her mind to focus on how to get what she needed.

“He’s a God of the dark, yeah?” Yelena wasn’t sure exactly how godly powers worked but she felt something in her buzzing as she reached her hands up to the sky, tilting her head back to peer up at the clouds. “Then let there be light!” 

It was like time stopped as static electricity surged through her fingertips, the sky sliding like a blanket as the blue changed to a purple-black, stars speckling the dark as the moon shone brightly. It was like Yelena put on the suit after a long and hard battle, the feeling of renewal and power ebbing through her like a conduit. 

“Yelena!” Her name was called from somewhere to her left moments before she was tackled off the side of the building. 

Yelena would have to ask Khonshu if time ever slowed down because as she fell, she could swear that time stuttered to a stop, wind whipping in her face as she rolled to shove Apep below her. She dug her fingers into every open wound she could find, fighting dirty like she should have the day she died for the first time. 

“Die!” Yelena ordered, shoving her fingers into the gash she made on the neck. She resisted the urge to retch, too focused on ensuring that Apep’s vessel would never walk again. 

“Brace yourself,” Khonshu’s usually loud voice sounded quiet, lost in the wind stinging her cheeks. “Breathe.” 

Yelena obediently followed despite not understanding why. Something crashed into her, knocking her off of Apep. She tried to suck in another gasp of air, the breath knocked from her lungs before she hit something hard, pain exploding. She couldn't tolerate the overwhelming pain and blacked out. 

Natasha had a hard time gaining her bearings after she awoke. Her sole focus was to try and locate her sister, and when she did, she tried to roll to her feet. 

She was so focused on trying to stand that she hadn’t seen the figure near her until her limbs were swept from under her and she hit the ground with a grunt. 

“Stay down!” Yelena ordered her. Natasha tried to protest but her voice was strangled. “Down!” 

Natasha could do nothing but watch as Tawaret kept her down and ensured she was alive. Natasha was helpless as her sister fought a God, the odds tilting in one favor before the other. It was a fairly even match, each side ruthless and aiming to kill. 

She tried to get involved when she saw her sister get the opening to a final blow but hesitated. She tried to move forward, to help, but Tawaret insisted that she would be no use. Natasha watched as her sister wielded some sort of Godly power and yanked the moon from its spot in the sky, literally changing from day to night. If SHIELD wasn’t on their way before then they certainly were after that display. 

“He’s going to knock her off!” Natasha realized as she saw Apep push all of their strength into darting at her sister. She knew that Apep realized he had lost but was content to take Yelena out with him. 

Tawaret finally left her side just as her sister and Apep tumbled over the edge of the roof. 

“No!” Natasha scrambled forward the best she could, peering over the side and praying that only one of the bodies ended up as a splat on the sidewalk. Tawaret used the metal wings on Scarlet Scarab to dive after them, knocking Yelena off of the God and wrapping the wings around their bodies moments before they hit the ground. 

Apep splattered against the cement much like Natasha imagined a watermelon would, no chance in peeling themselves upright. Her eyes then flickered to the mess of golden metal wings that slowly unfurled to reveal Layla’s body curled protectively around Yelena’s. They both seemed relatively unharmed by the fall but Natasha could see as Tawaret sat up that Yelena was not moving. 

Natasha stumbled back to the stairs and used her grapple gun to lower herself down twenty-three floors quickly, landing in a clumsy heap at the bottom when her head throbbed. She couldn’t focus on the oxygen deprivation from her strangulation, she had to get to her sister. 

A crowd had gathered but didn’t dare approach. Natasha ignored them, making her way right toward Tawaret and Yelena. She fell to her knees next to them, reaching out with a shaking hand to try and press her fingers against the bloodied neck of her sister. She was relieved to feel the thrum of a quick heartbeat, reaching out to try and press her hands down on the biggest wound that seemed to be gushing blood on her chest. Blood pooled underneath them as Tawaret left Natasha to check Apep’s vessel, a pleased hum escaping her lips. 

Natasha had done her best to help but in the end, was unable to do anything. It was like Ohio all over again. 

“Nat!” 

Natasha’s head jerked up just in time to see Clint appear, worry on his face as he quickly assessed the situation before kneeling next to her. She couldn't see SHIELD following him and knew instantly that he understood what she hadn't told him in her texts and followed her just like she knew he would.

“What do you need me to do?” He asked, slipping into the serious role he was needed in. 

Natasha looked down at the body underneath her hands as she swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” she admitted with a hoarse voice. She couldn’t tell if the wounds were healing. “I don’t know, Clint.” Tears blurred her vision as the adrenaline started to leave her body now that the danger was gone. 

“Alright. I’ve gotcha,” Clint moved forward, his hands replacing hers as he pressed down on Yelena’s chest. “Take her mask off so she can breathe.” 

There really was no identity to protect, not when half of the mask was nearly ripped apart anyway. Natasha hesitantly peeled the bloodied mask from her sister’s head, forcing herself to take a deep breath at the sight of her pale, scarred face. 

“Is she okay?” Scarlet Scarab collapsed to her knees next to them and Natasha could tell that Tawaret was gone, leaving a disoriented and pained Layla behind. Without waiting for an answer, Layla cradled Yelena’s face in her hands. “Wake up, kid. The fight is over, you did good.”

“I should have known you two were behind this,” a familiar voice commented and Natasha looked up at her handler, realizing that in all the chaos SHIELD had finally arrived. 

Natasha couldn’t get her voice to work, not after the severe strangling she had been subjected to, but she did try to convey to Coulson that SHIELD couldn’t take them. She kept a grip on Yelena’s suit, trying to shove away those who approached.

“You know the rules, Agent Romanoff,” Coulson said, his tone gentle as Layla was pulled away from them first. “We’ll make sure they get the proper care they need.” 

Natasha couldn’t fight. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move as Yelena was tugged from her grip, secured, and attended to. 

“It’ll be alright, Nat,” Clint was suddenly there with her, wrapping his arms around her to support her, ignoring the blood on the both of them. “We can talk with Maria. She won’t let anything happen until you can explain.” 

Natasha doesn’t move an inch until she watched as Yelena disappeared into a vehicle. She barely recognized the voices swimming around her before Clint’s arms hauled her up against his chest. She couldn’t even find it in her to be upset at being carried. She barely caught a glimpse of the tape surrounding the body splattered against the sidewalk. 

They took her sister. She lost her sister again. The only difference was that Natasha knew where to find her and how to get her out.  Natasha would not let them keep her from her sister, never again, no matter what SHIELD said. 

She lied when she told Maria she wasn’t compromised. She was so very compromised and nobody would be able to stop her if they tried. 

Chapter Text

Layla could usually anticipate things in life because life just wasn’t that hard to anticipate. At least until she figured out about the existence of actual Gods and then had an immortal child bleed out on the floor of her apartment. 

Being arrested by an intelligence agency was, of course, another one of those things that she just couldn’t have anticipated. She’d rank that below ‘suicidal plan to fist fight a God’. 

Her whole body ached and she couldn’t really do much as she was tugged away from where Natasha was crouched over Yelena on the floor. Layla tried to ask questions but no one would tell her anything including where they were taking her or how Yelena was doing. 

Tawaret was radio silent. She had thrust Layla back into control with no warning and was gone, leaving her to navigate the aftermath of the fight on her own. 

SHIELD was nice in the way that it could be worse. While she was taken to an interrogation room, they also asked if she needed medical assistance or a change of clothes. When Layla turned both down, mainly because she didn’t trust the intelligence agency as far as she could throw them, they buckled down and got straight to the point. 

The thing was, Layla wasn’t really sure how to describe the events of that day. She had no cover story, she had not arranged what she was going to say, and she wasn’t even sure how to explain it in the first place. She had sworn to Tawaret long ago that she would protect her identity and conceal the existence of Egyptian Gods. Yet there she sat in her Scarlet Scarab uniform after jumping off a building where the moon was in the sky where it definitely shouldn’t be. 

She knew the moment that they called her “Miss El-Faouly” that her identity was compromised and that she was in some serious shit. When she skirted around a lot of the questions, asking to see White Knight instead, they switched to questions about Yelena’s identity and age. Layla had to hope that Yelena’s fake identity was strong enough to protect her from the government. That doesn’t mean that passing over the name “Dina El-Faouly” hadn’t felt like a betrayal. 

Layla refused to budge much, being as difficult as she could, insisting on seeing White Knight. If she couldn’t see her then she at least wanted to see Natasha. The way that they were avoiding answering her questions made her question if being arrested by the government worked the same way as if she was picked up by the local police force. 

She tried to ask if they were holding her on any particular charges, then asked if they were even able to hold her without formally charging her before asking if she needed a lawyer and wanted a phone call, not that she had anybody she could call. They don’t give her a proper answer to any of her questions and it frustrated her. She was tired and sore and bloody and just wanted to go home and take a long hot shower. 

“If we’re done here then I want to leave and I want to see White Knight,” Layla said forcefully, moving to stand. 

The agent interrogating her finally spoke. “White Knight is being held at the moment.” They sounded annoyed that Layla wasn’t cooperating. 

“On what grounds?” Layla demanded because she wasn’t even sure if ‘moving the moon in the sky’ was a crime they could charge someone for. 

“Manslaughter.” Came the reply because of course Yelena could never do things halfway and would get arrested for murder the one time she couldn’t handle herself. 

“May I at least see her please?” Layla figured that if being stubborn wasn’t working then slathering in some extra politeness couldn’t hurt. “She was really hurt.” 

“She’s in holding in the infirmary,” the agent replied to her in a bored tone. 

“She’s my niece!” Layla finally pulled that card, wondering if the government even had protocols about minors and guardians in place. 

Like some sort of magic, the door to the interrogation room was pushed open and a new agent walked in, carrying herself with an air of confidence. “No, she’s not.” The way that the first agent immediately deferred to them had Layla recognizing that she was dealing with someone very high up in the chain. “We know that White Knight is a Black Widow assassin.” 

“Congrats.” Layla wasn’t sure what else to say to that. “May I see her now?” 

The woman raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Layla. “I want her name,” she said. “The one on her birth certificate.” 

“She doesn’t have a birth certificate,” Layla immediately retorted before resorting to bargaining. “I’ll tell you when I see her.” 

The woman let out a hum before nodding. “Sure,” she said, surprising Layla at how quickly she folded. “But you’ll wear these.” 

The woman held up a pair of handcuffs. They looked like regular handcuffs, the inside padded with what looked like a blue memory foam that appeared to be for comfort. Something about it confused Layla but she doesn’t hesitate to stick her hands out, willing to do whatever it took to see Yelena. 

The moment that the cuffs were snapped around her wrists, she realized her mistake. She nearly staggered as there was a sudden ache in her chest that left her feeling empty, her armor vanishing and leaving her in the outfit she was wearing underneath them. “What are these?”

“Power-dampening cuffs,” the woman replied, tightening them slightly. Layla watched her, cold fear pooling in her gut. 

Layla couldn’t call forth her suit anymore and she wasn’t even sure if she was still linked to her Goddess. She tried to quietly pray but she had reached out when she was first dragged away from Yelena to no avail. 

Trying to keep a steady voice, she asked, “Did you put these on White Knight?” 

“Yes.” The woman stepped back, satisfied that Layla was secured as she moved toward the door. Layla was frozen in place, staring down at the cuffs as her chest ached and mourned the connection. 

“You have to take them off….” her voice sounded distant to her own ears. She tried hard not to think about Tawaret’s grim explanation when she revealed to Layla that if anything happened to Khonshu and he severed his connection with Yelena then there was a possibility that she could die. “Now. You have to take them off.”

The woman paused in the doorway, looking back at her. “Why?” 

“You have to take them off!” Layla repeated, trying to remember how to breathe. She could barely recognize the dangerous position she put herself into when she lunged at the woman, gripping the lapels of her uniform. “You’re going to kill her!” 

The woman held up her hand and Layla belatedly realized that the agent that had interrogated her had a gun trained on her. The woman looked down at Layla and Layla was suddenly glad that she hadn’t quite learned how to mask her emotions because the woman’s gaze shifted to something serious. Layla let her go and took a wobbly step back as the woman reached up a hand to her earpiece to relay the order for the cuffs to be switched to regular ones. 

“Do you need to sit down?” The woman aimed the question at Layla when she finished, her lips pressing together in thought. 

“No.” Layla definitely felt worse without her connection to her Goddess. She wanted to just lay down and curl up but she needed to see Yelena. “I’m fine.” 

Whether or not the woman believed her, she still shrugged and nodded, opening the door and gesturing for Layla to exit. 

On the way there, the woman struck up conversation again. “We have reports of White Knight spanning back to around five years ago, yet she has a rather youthful appearance. Tell me, how old is she?” 

Layla glanced over at the woman, taking in the way her jaw clenched slightly. She figured that if the cover of Dina El-Faouly had been blown then she could go with the truth, especially when Yelena’s physical appearance didn’t match her chronological age. “Fifteen.” 

The woman pressed her lips together in displeasure, her brow furrowing slightly. “And how long has White Knight been fifteen?” She challenged. 

Layla resisted the urge to sigh. “Long enough.” She wasn’t going to play around with the woman until she had a concrete story to tell her. An immortal child/thought dead sibling of The Black Widow was not likely to go over well. 

She was relieved when they reached the infirmary, glad that the woman had kept her word. Before Layla could enter, a hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

“A name,” the woman prompted. Layla had promised a name in exchange for seeing Yelena. 

“Yelena.” There were plenty of Yelena’s and Layla never agreed to a first and last name. 

The unimpressed raised eyebrow was back. “Full name.” 

Before Layla could retort, Natasha suddenly appeared and grasped her shoulders looking her over. 

“You’re alright.” The statement was breathed out in relief from between Natasha’s lips. Whether it was because she truly worried that Layla had been hurt or because she was trying to reassure Layla that things were okay, Layla wasn’t sure. Her gaze then suddenly locked onto the handcuffs. 

Natasha turned to look at the woman and addressed her. “What is this, Maria?” 

“Precautions.” The woman, Maria, looked just as unimpressed with Natasha as she did with Layla. “Stat report on White Knight.” 

Natasha’s face twisted into a scowl. “Better with the fucking cuffs off. I told you they were hurting her.” 

“You do not have the right to be angry with me for assuring the wellbeing of my agents,” Maria told Natasha firmly, leaving no room for arguments. “I’m not even going to mention the fact that you have yet to explain how you fit into all of this. You went AWOL and against orders. You lied to my face that you were not compromised.” 

“Things changed,” Natasha replied curly before turning to address Layla. “She was asking for you.” 

“She’s awake?” Layla asked in surprise. She remembered Yelena sleeping for a very long time the last time she died. While she wasn’t sure if Yelena died during the fight, using all of Godly powers and having a constant healing factor running was sure to tire her out. 

“In and out.” Natasha motioned for Laya to follow her. Layla moved to do so, glancing back at Maria to see if she would stop her and demand a last name once again. Maria had her face pinched in displeasure but she doesn’t stop Layla from entering. 

Layla noticed immediately that even without the special cuffs on, Yelena was without her uniform, leaving her in just the leggings and tank top she had on underneath. She had a few large injuries that Layla had missed in the heat of the fight, blood soaking through the thin clothes she wore. 

“The cuffs probably stopped the healing,” Layla mumbled to Natasha as she moved forward and gently touched Yelena’s wrist, turning her arm to expose her burned palms. She was glad that it seemed the infirmary only tried to stop active bleeding and not take care of every wound although she was sure that was Natasha’s influence. 

Layla carefully moved her cuffed hands up to Yelena’s face, gently cupping an unbruised part of Yelena’s jaw as she leaned down. “C’mon, kiddo. It’s time to wake up. You can sleep when we’re home.” When they’re safe.

Yelena let out a soft groan, her eyes flickering open to peer up at Layla with hazy eyes. “--La,” she could only manage the second syllable of her name. “'kay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Layla reassured her, watching as Yelena’s face twisted in pain. “You’re okay too.”

“Where’s Taw--” Yelena started but Layla quickly pressed a finger to her lips to let her know that they weren’t in a safe place to speak. Yelena blinked up at her in confusion, her eyes quickly darting around the room. “Where are we?”

“SHIELD,” Layla said, not bothering to push Yelena back down when she struggled to sit up, instead helping her up and letting her lean against her. Natasha was immediately at her side and Yelena tensed up, on guard and ready for a fight despite her condition until she recognized who it was. 

Yelena looked between Layla and Natasha. “Nattie?” Yelena breathed out slowly, looking down at the tattoo on her arm before looking back up at her sister. “Are you… real?” 

“Yeah,” Natasha’s voice cracked as she hesitantly reached out. “I’m real.” 

Yelena’s face crumbled as she looked up at Layla with a teary gaze, waiting for her nod of reassurance. Layla gave her a nod, letting her know that Natasha knew who she really was. 

Yelena immediately twisted and reached for Natasha, ignoring the way one of her hands was cuffed to the bed. 

Natasha tried to hug her sister without aggravating any healing injuries but Yelena had no such qualms and wormed her way as close as she could, pressing her bruised face into Natasha’s shoulder to hide her tears. 

Natasha was whispering to Yelena in another language so Layla wasn’t privy to their conversation. She wasn’t going to leave though, not of her own free will.

“I’m sorry,” Yelena mewled out into Natasha’s shirt. “I wanted to find you--” 

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Natasha said firmly, pressing her lips to the top of Yelena’s head in relief. “I’m just happy you’re alive.”

The pair of sisters were soaking in each other when Yelena suddenly turned her head to look in the corner of the room. Layla felt a trickle of hope fill her.

“Is he here?” She asked quietly, watching as Yelena stroked the tattoo on her arm gently. 

Yelena gave a soft nod. “He has to go,” she said quietly. “They’re holding a trial. He has to be there.” 

“But he’ll be back?” Layla pushed, relieved when Yelena nodded. A small smile crossed Yelena’s face as she gave a small wave to the corner of the room before sinking back into her sister’s arms. 

Yelena then turned to look at Layla, the smile slipping slightly. “How much have you told them?” 

“Not much,” Layla admitted. “Your age and first name. I wasn’t sure how we were going to explain…” She gave a vague gesture. “The whole moving the moon thing.” 

Yelena nodded slowly before looking up at her sister, suddenly looking like a scolded child as she asked, “How much trouble am I in?” 

Before Natasha could reply, they were interrupted by someone entering the room. 

“Knock knock,” the man chirped, waving to Layla and Yelena before addressing the latter. “You may remember me as ‘guy you didn’t kill’. Others call me Clint. Today, you can refer to me as ‘getaway driver’.” 

“Clint…” There was caution in Natasha’s voice as she addressed the man. “What did you do?” 

“Oh, y’know,” Clint waved his hand in dismissal. “Called in a few favors, caused a little chaos. Our window of opportunity is very small.” 

Layla watched with confusion as Clint approached the bed with a small device that he stuck into the keyhole of the handcuffs, watching it twist and unlock them. “You’re springing us?” 

“Hi, you must be Layla,” Clint grinned at her. “Very cool move diving off the side of the building, I liked your wings.” Clint grasped her hands before she could stop him and stuck the same device into her cuffs.

Layla blinked in surprise. “Uh… thanks.” Warmth flooded her chest as the feeling of her Goddess returned when the cuffs hit the ground.

“Clint…” Natasha’s tone was terse. “Care to share?” 

“Look, I dunno what’s going on between you and the little feral child--” Clint ignored the insulted glare Yelena sent at him. “But she’s obviously important enough to you that you went nearly catatonic when they took her away.” 

Natasha accepted the brief explanation with a curt nod. “Thanks…”

“Of course,” Clint turned his attention back to Yelena. “Can you walk?” 

Yelena started to nod before slowly shaking her head and admitting defeat. 

“Alright. Mind if I carry you?” Clint asked. Yelena glanced at Natasha who gave a nod. 

“I trust him,” Natasha said and that was all Yelena needed to nod at Clint. 

Fifteen minutes later found Layla sitting in the passenger seat of a truck, looking back at where Yelena was curled into her sister in the back seat. The kid had been exhausted and was already fast asleep again, laying across the seats as Natasha looked down at her with a soft stare while she stroked her hair. 

Layla doesn’t bother asking where they were going. She herself was exhausted. 

She fell asleep leaning against the window to the sight of the moon high in the sky.

Chapter Text

Yelena liked to think that she could tell the difference between reality and death. There had always been a hazy cloud hanging over her head when she was dead and sifting through memories. 

She couldn’t tell if she was dead at the moment. It seemed too good to be true. 

Her whole body ached, and when she opened her eyes she was peering up at the ceiling of a car. Her head was pillowed on something warm and there was a hand gently stroking her hair. 

Her eyes land on Natasha first. She was laying across the back seat and her head was in Natasha’s lap. The only thing that was wrong was that Natasha was always young when Yelena was dead. She would go through old memories to live in them. She’d never been in a car with Natasha like she was at the moment. 

Yelena squeezed her eyes shut briefly to try and calm the pounding in her head before she gently turned to look up at the front seat of the car. In the driver's seat was the man that Yelena had once tried to kill but ended up sparing. Yelena then glanced at the passenger seat. 

Layla and Natasha had never been together when Yelena died and was lingering in limbo. Yelena would have to pick one to spend time with, often picking the latter because she missed her. 

“Hey.” Natasha’s voice reached her ears, muffled and far away. Yelena was distantly aware that she had probably ruptured her eardrums at the impact of her fall. 

She had a vague memory of clinging to her sister, of a reunion and being asked if she could walk. 

“Hey, are you with me?” Natasha repeated, her fingers gently brushing Yelena’s hair back out of her face. Yelena tried to focus her eyes on her. 

“Am I dead?” Yelena asked aloud, sucking in a sharp breath when the car hit a pothole in the road that made her teeth rattle.

“No. No, this is real,” Natasha’s voice was gentle. “How are you feeling?” 

Yelena stared at the ceiling once again. She ached fiercely. “I want Khonshu…” She was suddenly aware of his absence, clutching onto a foggy memory of him telling her that he had to attend Apep’s trial. 

She felt like the thoughts in her head were bouncing around much like the DVD logo that would ricochet off the sides of the television when she was a kid. Her mom had once told her that it was to prevent images from burning onto the screen of the CRT television, even going as far as trying to explain to Yelena’s curious six-year-old self the science behind it. 

Yelena hadn’t understood it at the time but she happily listened and soaked in the moment between her and her mom, learning something insignificant like a secret between them. Even if Yelena wouldn’t understand the answer, if she asked her mom then she’d explain. 

After Yelena learned not to leave her shows on pause, she found great interest in the logo, oftentimes content to watch it bounce around the inside of the screen, waiting for that one moment when it hit the corner just right. She couldn’t recall ever seeing it hit the corner. 

She sometimes wondered what it would look like for an image to burn on the screen. Her mom told her it would ruin the television, a faded image always there to stare back at them as a reminder. 

Perhaps that was what her mind was doing. It was trying to prevent the last twenty-four hours from burning into her mind as it instead bounced around jumbled memories and stray thoughts while a constant loop of pain played over and over again in the back of her head, always there staring at her like an image burned in the screen of a television. 

“You’re okay,” Natasha’s gentle voice reached her ears as fingers gently stroked over her cheeks, the motion making her realize that they were wet as her vision blurred. “Go back to sleep, little one.” 

Yelena let herself fade back into the darkness and remembered when Nour called her the same thing. 

The world came back to her in a blurry smear of colors as hands under her armpits tug her from the warm spot she had settled into. She felt cold and almost like she was falling backward, nearly startling in an attempt to catch herself before an arm braced around her shoulders. 

“You’re alright, kid,” Layla’s steady voice sounded close to her ear and she could vaguely recall a memory where Layla held her much the same way, cradled close against her. The only difference was there was no armor between them, just the warmth of another person. “I’ve got you.” 

“Where are we?” Yelena tried to make her mouth work, her tongue numb and useless in her mouth as she could do nothing but fumble to wrap her arm around Layla’s neck. The sky above her was bleeding into a red-orange as the sun rose in the sky, indicating that she had been asleep for quite a while. 

“A motel,” Layla said quietly, shifting Yelena’s weight to make it easier to carry her. “Clint’s already secured the room. It’s safe.” 

“Hmmm,” Yelena let her head tip back to peer up at the sky, her limbs heavy as Layla moved across a parking lot. A flash of burnt orange caught her attention and she twisted her head just enough to look. 

Natasha was following behind Layla, a ring of purple around her throat barely hidden by a jacket zipped to her chin. Yelena had forgotten about her sister, her head a mess at the moment. She couldn’t comprehend how she remembered the fight but not the people there. Yelena had kicked her sister to the ground to make sure she didn’t join the fight again. 

Natasha had been scanning their surroundings before her eyes locked with Yelena’s. Yelena was startled at the soft smile that was directed at her, the relief in her eyes clear. Yelena had been anticipating anger, a frustration that Yelena had lied, or even hate for everything that she had done. 

The motel room smelled like stale cigarette smoke and mildew, peeling wallpaper fluttering from the old AC unit that rattled near the window. 

It was familiar. Yelena could almost see Khonshu looming over her as she woke up from yet another death. 

“We won’t let anything happen to you, kid,” Layla promised quietly as she set Yelena down on the mattress. “You can rest.” 

Yelena gave in once again to the darkness. 

When she came to, she awoke to the murmuring of voices somewhere to her right, the tone frustrated and upset. Yelena managed to roll her head over to look at the direction of the sound when she realized there was someone there that hadn’t been when she fell asleep. She saw their face and was up in an instant, tumbling from the bed in her haste to get away, pathetically trying to summon the suit with no avail in her drained body. 

“Yelena!” Natasha was suddenly close to her and Yelena reached out to try and grip her before pushing herself away just in case she was part of it. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

Yelena wanted Khonshu. She wanted someone who would have been there to keep watch and tell her whether she needed to be on guard or not. As much as it pained her, she couldn’t trust her sister’s word, not when she worked for the very organization that had been tracking her down. 

“White Knight,” the woman in jeans and a leather jacket greeted her, arms folded as she lazily leaned against the wall. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“I can’t say the same,” Yelena managed to get out. “Deputy Director Hill.”

One side of the woman’s lips quirked up in a half-smile. “Call me Maria.” 

“Maria.” The name felt bitter on Yelena’s tongue as she observed the room. “What are you doing here, Maria?” 

“Being convinced that White Knight isn’t a threat to SHIELD,” Maria raised an eyebrow. “Want to give it a shot?” 

Yelena’s heart was hammering against her ribcage, her lungs squeezed in a vice as her eyes pinned Maria in place. “You’re better off with those men dead.” 

Maria’s indifferent exterior melted as her eyes narrowed at her. “Is that so?” Her tone was cold-- dangerous and warning, and Yelena felt a burning need to run because Khonshu wasn’t there. 

“I have come across many of your men over the years. I only sought those ones out. If I could find others then why them? Haven’t you ever asked yourself that?” Yelena’s eyes flickered to where Layla was standing near Clint, positioned between them so that she could intervene if she had to. 

“I have. How did SHIELD wrong you, White Knight?” Maria asked in a low tone. “Or should I say Yelena?” 

“SHIELD did nothing to me,” Yelena shook her head, her focus narrowing in on the way that Maria’s fingers dug into the sleeve of her leather jacket, hidden mostly by where it was tucked under her armpit. 

“It was senseless violence then? A russian roulette to prove a point?” Maria inquired tersely. 

“They weren’t your men, Maria,” Yelena tested the name on her tongue, deciding that she didn’t like it because names made them people, and hurting people was so much harder than nameless monsters. “Never were.” 

“Cut the bullshit, I don’t have time for riddles,” Maria straightened up and Yelena reflexively jerked back, her head thumping the wall behind her as she reached for a weapon that wasn’t there. 

“She’s not going to hurt you, Yelena,” Natasha inched a little closer to her, freezing when Yelena shifted away from her. Yelena felt boxed in and prayed to every God and Goddess that Khonshu made her give offerings to that she would be safe. “She just needs to know.” 

Yelena looked from person to person, trying to determine what kind of answer she needed to give. “They weren’t good people.” 

Maria wouldn’t let her leave it at that. “They were good agents.” 

“They deserved to die,” Yelena retorted. 

“Some of them had families!” Maria raised her voice. 

“They don’t deserve it!” Yelena shoved herself off of the wall, her vision tunneling in on Maria jerking back in surprise as she lunged toward her. “Red Room scum doesn’t get to live!” 

Natasha caught her before Yelena could grip the lapels of Maria’s jacket and smash her forehead against her nose. 

“Easy, kid.” Layla appeared in her view and replaced Natasha, pulling Yelena close to her. “Deep breath.”

“Swear to me that I am safe!” Yelena demanded, digging her fingers into Layla’s shirt. “Make a vow!” 

Layla nodded her head and let Yelena go long enough to fish the knife Yelena had given her out of where it was tucked in her boot. Yelena watched with heaving breaths as Layla gave her palm a shallow slice before reaching for her hand. Yelena exhaled at the sting, watching as Layla held her hand out. 

“I vow that to my knowledge, Maria Hill is not here to hurt us or arrest you,” Layla said steadily. 

“I vow that I believe you,” Yelena whispered, reaching out to clasp their hands, the thought of Maria being unaware of their status as avatars not even crossing her mess of a mind until Maria asked them to put the knife away. 

“She knows,” Layla confessed when Yelena stared at the woman as blood slithered down her arm like a crimson tendril. “I had to tell her.” 

“Your patron will be upset.” Yelena had upheld Khonshu’s vow of silence regarding her identity because she knew the weight of what it getting out could do. 

“She will forgive me when she knows it was for you,” Layla sounded so sure of herself and Yelena liked to think that Tawaret really would forgive such a grievous offense for her. 

“You mentioned the Red Room.” Maria’s voice drew Yelena’s attention away from Layla. “Explain.” 

Yelena bristled at the order, having spent the last five years of her life being only ordered around by Khonshu. “They’re plants, fuckface,” Yelena retorted petulantly, folding her arms as she pushed to see how far she could go before someone snapped. "Scoping you out, collaborating with Hydra."

“Natasha dismantled the Red Room years ago,” Maria frowned, her eyes serious as she stared at Yelena, completely ignoring the taunt.

Yelena squinted at her to try and see if she was telling the truth, glancing over at Natasha who was staring at her with wide eyes and nodded when she saw Yelena’s glance. 

“Do you really think that?” Yelena questioned, focusing on the feeling of blood drying on her hand to stop the panic that punched her in the gut. 

“I killed Dreykov. I blew him up,” Natasha told her and Yelena stared at her, her hearing diminishing to white noise. “I got revenge for your death.”

“No, you didn’t…” Yelena whispered. 

“Breathe, kid,” Layla coaxed, a hand settling on her shoulder. “Let’s clean up in the bathroom, hmm?” 

Yelena let herself be navigated into the bathroom and tried not to think about how her sister thought she took down the Red Room to avenge her. 

The next few hours were a blur as Yelena laid everything out on the table for the four. From the moment she died until the moment she woke up in the motel bed, Yelena left nothing out. She recounted every death, every kill, what she had been doing, how she had done it, and why. 

With each word she spoke, the four adults looked more and more disturbed, grimaces plastered over with indifference on their faces. 

Yelena spoke of being twenty in the body of a teenager, the way it made living hard, and how she had to adapt to new tactics just to survive on her own. 

When she finished, there was silence, the others eyeing each other in a silent conversation. 

“I think I have everything I need,” Maria said, straightening up and rolling her shoulders to stretch. “I appreciate your honesty, White Knight.” 

“Yelena.” It only felt right to offer the use of her first name in return. 

“Thank you for your cooperation, Yelena,” Maria told her, glancing over at Natasha before nodding to Clint. “C’mon.” 

Yelena glanced at Clint in surprise as the man gave Maria a crooked grin and lazy salute, moving to follow her as they left. Yelena looked over at Natasha, surprised to see that she hadn’t moved from her spot. 

“Don’t scratch her!” Clint called out before he chucked a set of car keys at Natasha who snatched them out of the air with ease. 

“I’ll crash the car just to prove a point,” Natasha grinned at him.

“You can stay?” Yelena blurted to her sister before shaking her head. “I’m not being arrested? I don’t understand.” She looked toward Layla for answers but the woman looked as lost as Yelena felt.

“I’ve got time off saved up,” Natasha told Yelena, moving toward her. “Maria has bigger issues to deal with. I get to stay here with you if you’ll let me.” 

There would be no universe in which Yelena would want her sister to leave. She shoved her weight at her sister and crashed into her, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “Don’t leave me again.” 

“Never,” Natasha promised with a soft voice, kissing the top of her head as she held her just as tight. 

The three of them took Clint’s truck and wandered aimlessly as Yelena slowly healed up. 

During one of their stops to watch the sun set and bleed into night, Yelena stood by a cliff overlooking the water, wind whistling around her harshly as Natasha and Layla went through their bags to ensure they had everything. Yelena stared up at the sky as the red faded to purple and blue. 

The wind whipping around her caused a soccer ball from a park a few blocks away to roll past her, bumping against her shoe before rolling over it and gone in an instant. 

Nour had been so angry at the world that she was willing for humanity to die. She had been consumed with grief and darkness that weighed her down and eventually ended up drowning her. 

Yelena hoped that her heart was weighed fairly on the Scales of Justice and that wherever she ended up, she was happy with Safiya. 

Khonshu’s return had Yelena jolting out of her sleep as the tattoo on her arm warmed and she felt a flood of familiar power rush through her. 

“You’re back,” Yelena exhaled in relief, cautious of the two women still asleep in the same motel room as her. She caught sight of him lingering over the side of her bed.

“That I am, my child,” Khonshu rumbled and Yelena resisted the urge to close her eyes to soak it in in fear of it all being a dream. “Apep will bother no one anymore.” 

“Good…” Yelena stared up at him, listening to the familiar tapping of his staff against the ground.

“Have you rested well enough for another assignment?” Khonshu asked and Yelena was suddenly more awake than she was moments ago. 

“Oh…” For a moment it had slipped her mind that she was his avatar, his to use to exact vengeance and protect the travelers of the night. “I don’t know.” 

“No?” Khonshu sounded intrigued. Yelena had rejected him before, usually screaming at him in what would have looked like teenage defiance because she had been stubborn or frustrated. Never had she been uncertain. 

“I don’t know…” Yelena repeated, looking back up at the ceiling. “I think I want more.” 

“More?” Khonshu echoed. 

Yelena nodded her head, listening to the sound of the two women breathing deeply in their sleep. “I want a life.” 

“I gave you life,” Khonshu argued. 

“A life that’s mine,” Yelena corrected. She waved a hand toward the sleeping figures. “I have my sister. She’s right here with me. I just… I just want a little time.” 

Khonshu tapped his staff on the floor in thought before he vanished without a word. 

Yelena could still feel his warmth in her chest. He hadn’t left her. 

“The human body could possibly take months to recuperate from the power you wielded,” Khonshu commented, startling Yelena from where she had been getting a drink of water at night. 

Yelena couldn’t help the grin that crossed her face. “You’re giving me a vacation?”

“I can’t have you broken,” Khonshu sniffed, his own way of telling her that he was giving her time. 

“Thank you,” Yelena whispered, gripping the glass tighter as she stared up at him. 

“Speak nothing of it, my child.” 

“Are we actually going anywhere or just driving until we have to get gas over and over again?” Yelena finally asked when the purple ring of bruising around Natasha’s neck had faded to a yellow-brown. 

“I don’t have anywhere I need to be in a hurry,” Natasha shrugged, peering back at her from the driver’s seat at a red light. “Why, do you have a place you want to go?”

Yelena had been a drifter for the last five years of her life, there wasn’t a place for her to go back to. For the past week, they had been bouncing from one motel to the next, visiting a few places and just existing in the world. 

“Y’know, you made a vow to me once…” Layla started and Yelena’s attention turned toward her. “I recall your assistance in helping me find and translate an artifact.” 

“Right.” Yelena turned toward Natasha to get her opinion, ready to explain. 

“I’ll go wherever you do, Yelena,” Natasha interrupted. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Yelena nodded her head and turned toward Layla to ask her what exactly it was she was looking for. 

It was time to make good on a vow. Layla had, after all, reconnected her with her sister. 

Maria Hill took a sip of her coffee as she followed the chaos the three left in their wake as they abducted an artifact from an archeological dig site, all from the comfort of her own office. 

“Here.” Clint dropped the stack of finished paperwork onto Maria’s desk. “You’re so mean to me.” 

“I’m not the one that smuggled two people from SHIELD,” Maria replied before nodding to the stack on the opposite side of her desk. “That’s yours too.” 

“Ugh, how come Natasha doesn’t have to do this!” Clint whined, heaving the stack up into his arms. 

“Let me know when you have a dead sister that comes back to life and I’ll give you time off,” Maria said, watching as Clint gave her a cheeky grin. 

“Do dead brothers count?” Clint asked and Maria rolled her eyes. 

“Go bother Coulson,” Maria ordered and Clint gave a half-hearted salute from beneath his mountain of paperwork. 

Maria erased the latest sighting of White Knight from her computer. 

Nobody needed to know that White Knight, Scarlet Scarab, and Black Widow were sighted together in Egypt.