Death Widow

Chapter 4: The Turning Point

Y/N spent the next few days drifting through her hideout in a haze of confusion, torn between the familiar weight of anger and the unsettling tug of vulnerability Clint’s words had left behind. For the first time since she’d broken free of Hydra’s grasp, she didn’t feel fully in control. She hated it—this gnawing doubt, this quiet longing that reminded her of the girl she once was, the girl she’d tried so hard to bury.

One night, she found herself standing in front of a dusty, cracked mirror in her hideout. The figure staring back at her looked almost unrecognizable. Her eyes were shadowed, her face harder than she remembered. *Death Widow,* Hydra’s masterpiece, stared back at her, the name they’d given her like a scar etched across her very being. But underneath, she caught a glimpse of someone else—a flicker of Y/N, her former self, buried under layers of pain and hatred.

“What am I doing?” she whispered to herself, feeling a pang of uncertainty.

A distant sound pulled her from her thoughts. Footsteps, soft and measured, echoed through the corridor outside her room. Y/N’s heart raced, her senses sharpening as she stepped back from the mirror, blending into the shadows. She didn’t need to guess who it was. She could recognize that familiar rhythm anywhere.

Natasha.

The door opened slowly, and Natasha entered, her face a mixture of determination and sadness. She hesitated in the doorway, as if debating whether to take a step further. Y/N’s stomach twisted at the sight, but she steeled herself, forcing her expression into one of cold indifference.

“Came to lecture me again?” Y/N asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Natasha took a deep breath, her gaze soft but steady. “No. I came to talk. Just talk, Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Talk? You really think a little heart-to-heart is going to change anything?”

Natasha’s expression didn’t falter. “I don’t expect it to change anything. But I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, part of her wanting to dismiss her sister’s words entirely. But another part—a quieter, more fragile part—wanted to listen. She gave a slight nod, her arms still crossed as she leaned back against the wall.

Natasha stepped closer, her voice steady. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. I thought I was protecting you by leaving you behind that night. I thought you’d be safe, that you’d escape Hydra’s reach. But I was wrong, and that mistake has haunted me every day since.”

Y/N looked away, the anger bubbling up again. “You should’ve known, Natasha. You were supposed to look out for me. For both of us.”

“I know,” Natasha replied, her voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But you have to understand—when I realized what had happened, it was too late. Hydra had hidden you so deeply, and every lead I followed just led to another dead end.”

Y/N’s fists clenched, the years of resentment and loneliness flaring up all over again. “Do you have any idea what they did to me? How they tore me apart and built me back up as some twisted version of myself?” Her voice cracked, a raw edge slipping through her defenses. “And where were you? Where was Yelena?”

Natasha’s face softened, tears glistening in her eyes. “We were looking for you. We never stopped looking. Yelena… she still believes you’re the strongest of us. She’s never lost hope that you’d find your way back.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the mention of Yelena, her little sister who had once been her partner in every prank, every mischief. She swallowed hard, her resolve wavering. “I’m not that person anymore. Hydra made sure of that.”

Natasha took a slow step forward, reaching out but stopping just short of touching her. “You may be different, Y/N. You may have powers, scars, and memories they forced upon you. But they didn’t destroy who you are. I still see you in there.”

Y/N’s face twisted, torn between anger and the painful hope Natasha’s words stirred within her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve done things, Nat. I’ve hurt people. Innocent people.” Her voice dropped, a whisper of guilt lacing through her words. “I can’t just go back and pretend that I’m the same girl you remember.”

Natasha shook her head, her eyes filled with unwavering conviction. “No, you can’t go back. None of us can. But you can choose to move forward, to find something better. Let us help you, Y/N. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The weight of Natasha’s words settled over her, and for the first time, Y/N felt the sharp edge of her anger begin to dull. The years of loneliness, the walls she’d built up around herself, the pain that had fueled her every action—they all seemed to crack, just slightly, under the weight of her sister’s plea.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can.”

Natasha took her hand gently, her grip steady and warm. “You don’t have to know right now. Just take it one step at a time. You’ve survived this far, Y/N. That strength—that’s you, not Hydra.”

Y/N looked down at their intertwined hands, the simple gesture pulling at something deep within her. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to feel the weight of her own vulnerability, to let her guard down, even if only for a moment.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she murmured, her voice laced with both sorrow and honesty.

Natasha nodded, her expression solemn. “I don’t expect you to. I just want you to know that I’m here, and I always will be. Whatever you decide, I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she quickly brushed it away, fighting to maintain some semblance of control. She pulled her hand back, crossing her arms as if to shield herself, but her walls were weaker now, fractured by the raw truth she could no longer ignore.

“I need time,” she said finally, her voice steady but soft. “I don’t know if I’m ready for… all of this.”

Natasha nodded, offering a faint smile. “Take all the time you need. Just know that when you’re ready, we’ll be here. Yelena, Clint, me… we’re waiting, Y/N. Whenever you’re ready to come home.”

Y/N watched as Natasha turned to leave, her figure retreating into the dim corridor. She stood alone in the quiet room, the echo of her sister’s words hanging in the air. For so long, she’d let her anger and pain dictate who she was, letting Hydra’s influence seep into every part of her being. But for the first time, a small part of her dared to imagine a life beyond Death Widow—a life where she was simply Y/N Belova, a girl with scars, but also a girl with hope.

She let out a slow breath, her heart heavy but lighter than it had been in years. And as the silence settled around her, she allowed herself to consider a future where she might, one day, find her way back to her family. One small step at a time.