The Black Widow

Mariya?

"Why didn't you tell me there would be backup" I practically yell at Mr. Suit. I am surprised he even came to visit me but then again when your best asset gets injured you don't just shrug it off. They take me to what is pretty much an entire hospital crammed in one room. A bunch of hospital beds, an area for surgery, and some big equipment that I can't name. It's a lot less busy then a hospital too. Mr. Suit and a short bald doctor who is getting really annoyed with my jerking around.

"We didn't know there was going to be any backup."

"It's your job to know." I hiss. the doctor gives me another frustrated look and continues trying to sew the wound on my shoulder.

"Stop complaining." He mumbles distracted. He pretends to be very interested in the doctor fixing my shoulder but I know he is just upset about not knowing everything.

I debate asking him about Mariya... or Yelena. I am still not sure if it really was her. I might have been imagining things I did loose a lot of blood. Besides it can't be her. I remember very clearly that moment when I felt the life leave her body. It was one of the strongest memories I got back after their stupid implant was removed. For the longest time afterwards I looked down expecting my hands to be covered in her blood.

She can't still be alive. Besides Yelena shot me which is something Mariya wouldn't even think of doing. And I know that even though I killed her she would have been ecstatic to see me again. That is just the kind of person she was. I decide to ask only referring to her as Yelena. Even if she isn't Mariya she still is important. Not because she wants to kill me, that is nothing new but because she got close. So close she could have. No one has ever gotten that close before and I'm sure if they did they wouldn't have missed. Definitely not on purpose either.

"Who was the blond women?" I ask, "More backup you didn't know about."
The doctor finally finishes stitching me up. It seemed to take longer then usually probably because I am being a very difficult patient.

"You need to sit still so I can fix the leg." He speaks English with a heavy French accent. I nod and marvel at Mr. Suit's stupidity. Getting a doctor who doesn't speak Russian for Russians. That makes a lot of sense.

"What blond woman?" He demands. 

"She called her self Yelena Belova."

He pales and his eyes widen just slightly.

"So you have heard of her then." I ask suspiciously.

He nervously fidgets with his silk green tie, "No why would you say that."

He does know her. Why would he lie about something like that, badly too. I have never seen Mr. Suit look so flustered. Maybe he is softening with old age.

"Because I'm not an idiot." I am getting really tired of being lied to all the time.

"I have no idea who she is." He insists.

I glare at him, "Well you better figure it out then because she has decided she wants me dead."

"I'll work on it." Mr. Suit mumbles.

He doesn't say anything else. Without me arguing and moving around the doctor finishes remarkably fast.

"I recommend at least month of bed rest probably more. You are lucky it was not so bad." He says earnestly.

Mr suit grimaces and then turns to me, "You get a week."

 "I'll be back tomorrow." It's infuriating having to use a crutch to walk out. I can't storm out like I would normally.

When I get home I don't feel like going through the struggle of preparing a meal so instead I just sleep. Except I can't do that either. Too much on my mind. All I can think about is how I killed her. Could she really be still alive? Or is that just my guilt telling me that maybe I didn't kill my best friend.