We Are Defined By What We Do

Eight

Laura makes them breakfast with the kids, pancakes and hashbrowns and assorted fruit; the whole nine yards. The kids ask them questions, where they're going, who they're tracking, where's Kate. Every time they mention her name Yelena cringes just a little. She can't help but feel the blame, the guilt, that losing Kate was her fault. She was supposed to look after her. And she failed.

When breakfast winds down, Clint packs a bag and Yelena says her goodbyes to the kids. Laura hugs her, whispering her "good luck" in her ear. Then, the old bird and the young spider march out of the house together.

Clint gives her a nod as he turns toward the garage where his smaller scale quinjet is. He rips the tarp off it, dust and cobwebs clouding around it.

Yelena makes her way to the chopper, and just as she's about to step on, a bounding dog comes running after her. Pizza Dog jumps inside, skidding a little on the metal, and sits looking at her expectantly.

Yelena looks at him sorrowfully. "You can't come with."

He winks at her, panting.

"I'm sorry. I know it's my fault. But I'll get her back."

He turns and jumps into the co-pilot seat, where Kate would normally fit. Yelena huffs, then gets in the chopper and shuts the door. She sits next to him, putting on the headphones and starting it up.

"You're in for a ride."

He prances in a circle on the seat a few times, then lays down. His head rests on the control panel. He looks off into the distance longingly, then sighs.

"I know," Yelena says, reaching over and petting him. "I miss her too."

Kate still sits shackled, face a little bruised and red from the punches she's taking. Her sides hurt the worst, and her body has been stabbed countless times by the men's little pocket knives they carry.

The woman stands in front of her again. "Why did you want to kill Fisk?"

"Because he attacked me. Do I need more reason?"

"Why would he attack you?"

"I don't know! Maybe because I was beating up his Trackstar Mafia? And winning?"

One of the men leans forward and drives his blade into her shoulder, just a few inches.

Kate groans, more angry than in pain. "I am not a pin cushion!"

"Why were you trying to kill the Tracksuits?"

"Because they were trying to kill me. Jesus, lady, you really got to use some common sense here."

The man's fist comes across her face and cracks her nose, blood spilling down her mouth.

"Okay. Yep. I deserved that one. Sorry."

Kate breathes through her nose, tongue licking her newly painted lips.

"The Tracksuits were after you? What for?"

"I stole something and they thought I was someone else. Classic case of mistaken identity. Like you have done with me!"

One of the men steps forward to punish her again but the woman stops him with a raise of her hand.

"What did you steal?"

Kate remains silent, not going to give that information up.

The woman knows this, and so she points and rotates her hand upward, giving her men a silent order. She leaves the room, and the men begin releasing Kate from the chair.