black widow movie | dear violette romanoff,

chapter six | budapest

It had been three days since Yelena and I had arrived in Budapest, and two since we had shipped Natasha the vials in Norway, via her clueless, heavily British private contractor.

After a half-serious, half-assed discussion, we both decided it was better for us to stick together while the Red Room was out for us, but that when we knew the coast was clear, we'd disappear from each other's lives again. Naturally, I was okay with that.

However, initially, I was skeptical of being somewhere within five meters of Yelena, but as long as she and I neglected talking about the past, it proved to be simple enough.

The only thing that worried me was the lack of news about the Avengers. The thought of what Natasha was doing obsessed me, and the same question that haunted me for most of my life became the only thing I cared enough to think about: How could she leave and not care?

It already sucked that we were in Budapest, but now it had me remembering someone who tried so hard to forget me.

Yelena's back at the apartment, thinking. Or that's what she implied from her most recent message to me:

'I have things to sort out, but I'll be here when you show up. I have to start answering some of my own questions.'

I'm sitting at a coffee shop with an untouched cream scone and half-drunk hot chocolate. A cap pulled tightly over my head and a hidden gun in my ankle brace.

I fold over the daily newspaper; After the Sokovia Accords, the hunt is on for the remaining Avengers... Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff are currently on the run. This was followed by an awfully edited photograph of my sister's face.

I take a long, exhausting pause.

The elevator shutters half of the way up to our apartment, giving me far too much time to think and be by myself.

The elevator dings and something on our apartment floor shatters.

The sunlight from the depression in the wall eats at my skin, and something is immediately off.

I twist the door handle and open the door. The temperature drops dramatically as soon as I walk in.

I slide the gun out from my ankle brace and hold it up in front of me; there is light chatter in the kitchen, and then a loud, deafening scream, followed by crashes and groaning.

I run into the kitchen.

It is a complete mess. The wrecked kitchen utensils and broken dining table and chairs make beautiful scenery for the two women standing right in the center of the wreckage, trying to rip each other apart: Yelena and Natasha.

Yelena throws the knife in her hand at my head. I catch it and join the fight, kicking Natasha onto the ground, but not before she can throw herself at Yelena, who rids the knife from my hand shockingly fast. Yelena and I stand up and I wrap my legs around Nat's waist, tugging at her hair. She lets out a shriek.

I don't understand the full context of the fight, but I'm clearly fully committed.

Nat knocks me out of the position and grabs Yelena's chin, pulling her head back into an uncomfortable breakage point. Yelena knocks the weapon out of Nat's hand with her arm and rams Nat up against the wall beside a window. Nat wraps her legs around Yelena's neck.

Nat starts to pull down the curtains from the window. I see what she's doing and knock her against the wall. She continues despite the pain and wraps them around Yelena's neck, still on top of her shoulders. Nat jumps down and Yelena wraps the other end of the curtain around Nat's neck. They both pull at the curtains, losing oxygen rapidly.

I grab at one end of the curtain and pull, watching Natasha choke. They both fall over onto the floor and pull at each other's necks.

"Stop." Nat strains. "Перемирие." ("Truce.") She takes her hand off the curtain and stops pulling, letting Yelena gasp for air.

Yelena looks at me and rolls over onto her back, and warily, I give Nat my hand to help her up. She looks borderline between confused and appreciative.

"Ты вырос," ("You grew up.") Nat says to Yelena, with a frustrated smile on her sore-looking face.

Yelena breaks her elongated stare with me and gets up from her spot in the broken glass and white fabric. "Да нет дерьма," ("No shit.") Yelena hisses.

Things were going to get a hell of a lot more complicated with Natasha in Budapest.