Catch Me When I Fall // KateLena AU

Sting

Kate Bishop was cold. Having no heat, the studio apartment felt more like a freezer or a morgue with each passing hour as the second night fell, full moon gleaming through the curtains of the one living room window.

Adding to Kate's shivers was the icy water of the kitchen sink as she scrubbed at dishes absentmindedly. Not feeling well enough to eat herself, only two of Yelena's plates were tarnished, and seeing nothing else to do as the blonde slumbered on the couch, Kate decided to rinse them off.

The stinging stream was the closest Kate had come to a shower, and she rolled up the sleeves of her purple Hawkeye uniform to wash as much skin as she could. Though sure she was ripe from days of grime, sweat, blood, and tears, Kate could not bring herself to fully bathe. Being that vulnerable in an environment like this, literally living with the enemy, was unthinkable, and Kate could not bear to peel off her purple garb, even temporarily. However silly it was, this uniform allowed her to feel connected to Clint, and taking it off felt almost sacrilegious.

For a while, only Yelena's faint snores and the trickling of the sink sounded in the space, and it was almost peaceful. Kate briefly imagined herself as someone with a normal life- maybe her roommate had fallen asleep on the couch during a movie marathon, and Kate was kind enough to clean her dishes anyway.

The truth, of course, was much more deranged. Kate stood in the kitchen of her sleeping mass murderer companion, scrubbing at plastic plates with just her nails and freezing tap water.

The urge to evaluate every life choice that brought Kate to this moment was palpable, but in the end, she knew it came down to one crucial juncture- turning in her mother. Besides the guilt of being the daughter to rat out her own mother, she wasted far too much time waiting on the police, watching as authorities cuffed Eleanor and read her rights.

Though Yelena argued the delay was a non factor, that Kate would not have made a difference regarding Clint's fate, Kate could not help but wonder. Could she have distracted Yelena, at least? Given an opportunity for Clint to escape? It was already well established that Kate was not a match for Yelena in combat, but two on one was a different story.

But, if Yelena would have had her way regardless of Kate's presence, perhaps it was better she did not witness the killing blow. Seeing Clint lifeless on the ice was harrowing enough; witnessing the act in full may have been debilitating.

There was also the very real possibility that Yelena may have eliminated her should she have gotten in the way. Yelena was literally a woman on a mission, fueled by boiling rage and endowed with a skill set few others possessed. It was not unbelievable that if Kate intervened, she may have ended up on that ice right next to Clint.

The juxtaposition of Yelena's brutality and her current hospitality- wrapping Kate's hand, giving her the mattress, allowing her to stay at all, was dizzying. It didn't make sense. Yelena didn't make sense.

Looking down, Kate realized her hands had begun to crack, skin drying out from the still frigid water. She shut off the faucet, searching around for a way to dry her hands and the plates. Settling on a crumpled but clean paper towel, Kate leaned back against the counter, glumly dabbing droplets from the plastic.

And then she heard it. Startled by the loud opening of the stairwell door, Kate paused her drying, panic forming as several pairs of footsteps marched down the hall, seemingly toward her apartment.

Standing statue still, Kate held her breath, praying the group would keep walking. Horrifyingly, the sounds stopped right outside her door, and she heard slight metallic clicking. Someone was picking the dead bolt.

Fortunately for the women inside, the door was reinforced with many more locks than the average apartment, which granted enough time for Kate to scurry to the couch as quietly as she could, shaking Yelena gently.