Bishova Oneshots

I Miss You Like a Little Kid

Summary: Yelena attempts a eulogy.
Category: Angst, Hurt/comfort.
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"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Kate asked her, but the question fell on deaf ears. "It's okay if you're not, no one would blame you."

"I would," she responded, hands grasping the sides of the sink. The tiny bathroom of the funeral home was barely large enough to fit the two of them, and Yelena felt stifled, suffocated with Kate right at her back.

Still, though. Better to have Kate crowding her than to be alone.

She tried to inhale, fill her lungs with air to dispel the tightness in her chest, but the weight in her ribcage was crushingly heavy, and she was decidedly small.

The sink's faucet was leaky, with ill timed globs of water rhythmically interrupting her flow of consciousness. The drops broke up flashes and fragments of memories, jarring her already scrambled recollections.

"Would you believe me, Kate Bishop," Yelena continued, eyes closing as she gripped the porcelain tighter, "if I told you that I've never actually been to a funeral." She laughed bitterly. "All of the death, all of the destruction that I have witnessed, that I have caused, and I have never mourned it."

"Yelena..."

"And for him? All of this for him?"

"Like I said, we can leave anytime."

The assassin remained silent for a while, passing her tongue across her lips. She attempted to steel her nerves, breathing deeply and intentionally and wishing she was not so fragile. She was a spy, an assassin, an agent. She was strong.

"No..." Yelena turned, smoothing the lapels of Kate's black suit to try and hide the trembling in her fingers. It was not working. "After everything... I owe him this, at least. Besides, Melina asked me, and I can't say no to her."

Her mouth said yes, but her mind said unequivocally no. How could she possibly eulogize Alexei Shostakov? What solemn, respectful speech could she deliver about the man who had hurt her so badly, scarred her so deeply, but also loved her so tenderly?

Alexei's was the first face Yelena ever recognized. As she was three, four years old, coming into consciousness for the first time, Alexei was there. He authored her earliest memories- a day at the park, bedtime stories for hours when she couldn't sleep. He was always warmer than Melina, a big papa bear who wanted to give his girls the world. It came so naturally to him to nurture, to protect, that when Yelena learned it was all an act, a mission, a chore... it nearly killed her.

And not only was she a mission, but Alexei practically hand delivered her to the Red Room's door. He dropped her off as casually as if it were daycare despite knowing what they had done to Natasha and Melina. He watched passively as Melina nearly bled out, as Natasha kicked and screamed to leave her alone. Alexei simply stood by, more worried about getting back into the field than the horrors his daughter would endure for decades. It was practically unforgivable.

"Fucking bastard," Yelena grumbled to herself. "Fucking... why didn't he stop them?"

"Stop who?" Kate asked softly, one steady hand gently caressing a tear stained cheek.

"He loved me, didn't he? So why didn't he stop them?"

Knowing better than to try to form a response about something she hardly understood, Kate stayed silent, offering her presence as a lighthouse in a stormy sea. She stood as closely pressed to the restroom door as possible, leaving Yelena space, but kept her arms open in invitation. Yelena, of course, accepted, collapsing into the tight, sure embrace of the only person who had ever loved her without pretense.