How to Dream

Tetya

"I can't read this," Yelena Belova, blonde 'sister' of Natasha (thanks to Dreykov), says with a shuffle of her fluffy socks and images of puppies on them.

Yelena holds Helen Cho's diagnosis in her hands as she returns to the living room of the Ireland flat they've rented for the week. She might be meddling and reasonably annoying, but she makes for a good bodyguard. Should anyone make a move on her niece, she'd slit their throats without blinking. And her fluffy dog, Fanny, would comply in a tackle Without question.

Natasha steals the paper with a huff. It's pointless to share if Yelena is fixating on the wrong things;

"You get the gist."

Yelena rolls her eyes, "Thanks for the explanation. How long did you take to learn?"

Natasha's water sits in her throat a second longer than usual before swallowing because of her thoughts. She knew bits and pieces of just enough medicinal knowledge to survive; nothing compared to how much she's learned since marriage and clone creation of B-Ex alongside Bruce. She bites the glass with rage at her core.

Bruce doesn't deserve his prison sentence, which should be over this year, though, she's heard nothing from her lawyer and cousin-in-law...

"It would be nice to learn if you continue complaining so much. Our girl is fine, but I could offer advice," Yelena sinks into the dented sofa from its overuse as an Air BnB, her feet propped onto the ledge.

Natasha's thoughts return to the present, annoyed with Yelena's sprawling.

Yelena lays her head on the pillow and continues, "Rebecca is smart in school."

"Her brain isn't in question. It's her heart. Most clones pass before their fifth birthday-."

"But L.J. is celebrating her thirteenth."

Lena Junior, Yelena's niece's nickname, never fails to make an appearance. Yelena has exclusively used this name ever since learning Rebecca's middle name was Yelena.

Thirteen years. Nine without her father. Scrambling from place to place with little details and explanation. Thank goodness Rebecca's rage is minimal and the rage-damage was restricted to a few drinking glasses, and inward childhood turmoil.

"And when she wakes up a real teenager?" Natasha asks, "Who hates her mother?"

"Not going to happen," Yelena laughs then changes the subject, "When will you ask mom and dad?"

"About the school's enrollment fee?"

"Yeah."

Natasha sighs and chuckles nervously, "Um. Preferably never. Because there's a very specific downfall mid conversation that takes place in my nightmares."

"Which is?"

Natasha licks her lip, shrugging, "The same one that happens when I'm not sleeping every Easter during family brunch? That, somehow, I'm an inadequate mother. That Bruce should've left us more before getting taken as if he had a choice on timing."

"Ah."

"Look, the truth is, that's our savings. That's how we afford doctor's appointments, the house...this fancy High School would be an extra burden I haven't planned for."

"Which is why you ask mom," Yelena blinks as if Natasha is crazy to be second guessing.

"Which comes with what? A year of fun white scrubs after I'm institutionalized? Breaking rocks in an orange jumpsuit for the next twenty, strapped down with a ball and chain in their yard?"

"What would Tony Stark check come with?"

Natasha swishes her lips from side to side, "My remaining pride."

"You are honest, sister."

"If Mom says no and Rebecca is defeated, I'll try him next...How are they; mom and dad? You saw them last."

Yelena shrugs, petty Fanny's plush ears, "Mad you don't call."

"What else is new."

The door to the flat opens with a click, revealing a small, lanky girl with her hair waving up over a light red scarf. Before she can take another step, Natasha crumbles the paper from Cho and shoves it down her bra.

Yelena squints in suspicion.

"Hi, Mom, hi, Tetya," she calls, shrugging off her backpack and coat. "It's freezing outside."

"What do you need,' Natasha stands immediately, 'Yelena's got coffee, sweets, and a puppy to love."

"Coffee,' she nods, the red in the waves of her hair needing more of a coverup of the brown, 'with a side of puppy love."

"Coming right up," Natasha turns on her heels, "The bus dropped you right out front?"

"Yes, mom."

"Both ways?"

"Yes, mom."

"How was camp Day 4?" Natasha offers the mug.

"The same as Day 3."

"Ah. Enthralling."

"We're building a robot," Rebecca shrugs in boredom, "His official name is Sammy."

"Sammy? An acronym?"

"It should be. But Professor Murray has no creativity. He just let Petra pick. Colors too. He's bland; black and white."

Natasha nods, "Petra is that 'pretty girl from the land of tea'."

"Yep."

"Accent and all? I haven't asked."

"Yep," Rebecca sips her mug.

"Dang, that's annoying. As long as she doesn't start singing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."

Rebecca snorts, remains quiet for a second, and then says in her best English accent, "She's bloody good."

Yelena laughs from the sofa and flips Fanny's overturned ear upright;

"It's getting nasty. Reddi-Whip decompression time before we rage more about British girl?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Natasha shakes the can and throws it at Yelena's request.

The blonde opens the can and sprays a blast into her mouth, throwing it to Rebecca next, who does the same.

Natasha is the last to do so, tasting the plain vanilla-flavored light cream while Fanny licks Yelena's mouth.

"That's disgusting Yelena,' Natasha whines, 'Keep the dog out of your mouth."

Yelena laughs again, referencing Natasha's dog, "Max loves Cool Whip just as much."

"Sure,' Natasha lays a hand on her hip and gives a mug to her daughter, 'in a drive-through. In a pup cup. Not from my mouth- he's a sanitary animal. Unlike Fanny. Were you raised in a barn?"

"It was a Russian prison."

"Whatever."

Rebecca, unreadable in every way, lifts her backpack, "I'm gonna study. Thanks for the coffee."

"One more day of camp," Natasha calls over her shoulder as Rebecca retreats to one of the two bedrooms with a sarcastic cheer.

Yelena frowns, "When will you tell L.J. that this annual 'overseas camp' is more 'mommy's week out' than brain juice for her?"

"Ha!" Natasha laughs forcibly, "When she's 80. You should talk, you love mooching off the rental."

She nudges her sister and moves to snatch up the remote, flicking on the television.

Yelena steals it back and mumbles when Natasha groans.

"The price of silence, sestra," the blonde says as she lifts the remote to select what she wants.