Winter Widow One Shots

Yelena and james

He knelt quietly, the flowers trembling in his grip as he set them beside the simple headstone. Wildflowers - she was always pointing them out in Wakanda, barefoot walking in the fields. Her red hair pulled back and her laughter carried by the wind. She'd crouch beside a patch saying things like "You don't need to know their names to admire them, you know." He'd smile, watching her tuck one behind her ear like it belonged there. She would have never let the world see her this way. Heaven forbid the world knew the Black Widow liked flowers.

His fingers lingered on the stone, rough and cold beneath his touch. The engraved name still looked new. But of course it did. It was new. Still fresh. Here and in his heart.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a breath, holding it like it might steady the ache in his chest. He'd meant to come earlier. He really had. But then Steve decided to stay in the past, and Sam needed his help, and everything just kept changing too fast to keep up with. He could hardly breath. And part of him was grateful for it. It had kept his mind off the loss. But now, here he was.

"Ohio huh?" He muttered, eyes scanning the quiet cemetery. "Came back 'home?'"

A breeze stirred the tall grass around him, the sound like a whisper between the headstones. He brushed away the thin layer of dust on the stone - it felt wrong, leaving her like that. She hated messes. Except in the kitchen. He could still hear her telling him "I can fight five trained assassins in a hallway, but apparently scrambled eggs are my downfall."

He'd laughed. A real, genuine laugh. It was the first time in years he had.

The silence here felt scared. Not like when he was home, alone. There it felt like he was drowning in it. But this was safe.

"I miss you Nat." He sighed, shoulders sagging as he leaned his head against the cool marble. "I never even got to say goodbye..."

"You know," A voice said from behind him, casual but not unkind. "She talked about you."

In an instant training took over. He stood and turned sharply, gun pointed at the figure behind him.

A woman stood there, blonde hair cropped short, hands slowly raising in surrender. Calm and confident. A fluffy dog, sat obediently next to her with it's tail wagging and tongue out, as if there was not a problem in the world.

Recognition was slow to spark, like a half forgotten song but once it hit, it hit hard.

"Yelena?" He said, still unsure. He kept the gun aimed at her, but his fingers had relaxed.

She offered him a half-smile and stepped closer, the dog trotted forward to sniff the flowers James had just laid down.

"Hey. No" He gently nudged the dog back with his boot, but it didn't deter the dog.

"Are you going to lower the gun so we can have a normal conversation?" She asked him, eyebrow raised.

After a beat he dropped the gun, placing it back in his holster. His hand lingered near it, more so from habit than suspicion. He turned, trying once more to coax the dog away from the petals.

"I didn't believe her when she said you were still alive," She tilted her head to study him. "You haven't aged a day. What's your secret?"

He gave a dry humorless chuckle. "Cryogenic freezing. Don't recommend it."

"Well it sure did wonders for you, I mean you really haven't changed at all."

"You have," He said, eyes trained on the headstone at his feet. He knew Yelena and Natalia had a close relationship, especially towards the end. But he really just want the time alone with her right now. "You were so young."