Catch Me When I Fall // KateLena AU

Lighthouse

Yelena's hands were still bathed in blood as she searched her tactical gear for the key to her downtrodden, seldom used safe house. The now dried liquid was distracting not only in the sense of diminished grip, but coagulated chunks would flake off every time she touched something, leaving a trail of destruction. Not unusual for her, really.

The collateral damage of Yelena's latest exploit, Kate Bishop, stood stiffly behind her, good hand clutched against her side, other hanging limply. Her eyes were dimmer now, twinkle extinguished by what she'd seen in the past few days. Her entire life had come tumbling down, though right now she could not spare a thought to the long rebuilding process ahead of her. All she wanted was to sleep.

Kate had almost drifted off right there in the hall as Yelena struggled with the lock, and had to be tugged roughly in when the blonde finally gained entry.

It was nicer than Kate expected- a simple, sparsely furnished studio apartment. A quaint metal kitchenette off to the left of the doorway, a living area with a love seat and coffee table to the right. A full mattress sat in the far corner just before the bathroom, and a locked armoire by the front door completed the space.

"Do you want to shower?" Yelena asked, closing the door behind her and engaging as many locks as Fort Knox.

The archer gave no answer, just stood awkwardly in the entrance, still holding her abdomen. Sighing, Yelena backed off, offering to make dinner, or breakfast, or whatever meal this was. Both had lost the concept of time, drowning in a tempestuous sea of uncertainty and traumas.

Again, no response, but Yelena started on a meal anyway. Reaching for the fridge, Yelena stopped short when she realized her hands were still marked with the calamitous events of the evening. Sighing, she rolled up her sleeves and turned on the sink faucet, allowing the ice cold water to wash away the blood from in between her fingers, across her knuckles, stuck under her nails.

As she washed, and washed, and washed, Yelena felt a presence behind her and cast a glance over her shoulder. Kate stood, face blank, staring at the scarlet tainted water that swirled around the drain. The brunette watched as what effectively, gruesomely, was the last of her mentor wash down the rusted drain of Yelena Belova's kitchen.

Yelena scrubbed faster, though the task was made difficult by the lack of soap. The freezing water cracked her hands, but that was no matter. She had many, many bigger problems.

"Do you like toast, Kate Bishop?" Yelena asked, drying her hands on her vest as she slipped it off. "Frozen bread and butter is about all I have."

Nearly catatonic, the archer stayed eerily silent. She just lingered, staring ahead, tracking Yelena's every move. It was completely unnerving to see a typically cheerful, animated woman so reserved, but Yelena could not complain. As sad and probably inappropriate as it was, she was glad to have the company.

In deafening quiet, Yelena smeared a chunk of butter on bread, microwaved it, and called it a day. She made one for Kate, but it just sat on its plate on the coffee table, getting colder by the minute.

After her slice of bread that passed for a meal, Yelena decided to shower before hopefully falling asleep for many, many hours, and then the real challenge began. What in the world to do next?

Peeling her suit off, Yelena finally got a good look at herself in the cracked mirror of her cramped bathroom. Her once perfect braid had hairs wildly out of place, her makeup smeared. Dark circles around her eyes, a decent gash from her brawl with Kate, but all things considered, not bad. The woman outside looked a lot worse for wear, and Yelena made a note to look at Kate's hand sometime soon.

With a massive exhale, Yelena climbed into the frigid stream of shower water. She could not care less about the temperate; she grew up on cold showers, on long days training in the snow. New York was the Bahamas compared to Russia.