Yelena Belova (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_best_sister) wrote2024-12-26 11:39 pm
the_best_sister) wrote2024-12-26 11:39 pm
Entry tags:
A Cemetery - Mount Vernon, Ohio, Thursday Evening
Yelena didn’t linger long at the Barton Farm after Christmas dinner. Once the plates were cleared and the conversations had died down, she found an excuse to leave. A portal to Ohio came up as a convenient escape, and she took it. She booked herself into a horrible little hotel. Even then, she waited until dusk to head out, using a disguise potion Adrian had given her just in case anyone was watching the grave site.
She stood in front of Natasha Romanoff’s gravestone for a long time, hands buried in her pockets. After a few minutes, she crouched down to start cleaning. The stone was littered with dead flowers and a few trinkets left behind by strangers. She tossed the wilted blooms into a small pile and wiped her hands on her coat before leaning over and kissing the top of the marker.
Then she knelt in front of it, her fingers over Natasha’s name.
“I know you can’t hear me,” she said softly. “And I know you’re not watching. Anyway. For the past year, I’ve been… aimless. Drifting. Doing things I know you wouldn’t be proud of. Believing the wrong people. Turning against your friend.”
She paused, exhaling sharply, her breath visible in the chilled air.
“Lately, though, I think I’ve turned a corner. I’m working for Stark of all people. I’m making friends. And last night I think I finally made up for one of my mistakes.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly. “Anyway. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you. And I always will. But I’ve realized that at some point… I have to say goodbye.”
Her voice cracked on the last word. She reached up, swiping at her eyes, and let out a soft, tearful laugh. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
Rising to her feet, Yelena looked down at the gravestone, searching for the right words. None came. Instead, she whistled a long, two-note call they’d used as children.
She closed her eyes, listening for a response she knew would never come.
After a long moment, she patted the gravestone lightly. “Goodbye, Natasha,” she whispered.
And then she turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.
She stood in front of Natasha Romanoff’s gravestone for a long time, hands buried in her pockets. After a few minutes, she crouched down to start cleaning. The stone was littered with dead flowers and a few trinkets left behind by strangers. She tossed the wilted blooms into a small pile and wiped her hands on her coat before leaning over and kissing the top of the marker.
Then she knelt in front of it, her fingers over Natasha’s name.
“I know you can’t hear me,” she said softly. “And I know you’re not watching. Anyway. For the past year, I’ve been… aimless. Drifting. Doing things I know you wouldn’t be proud of. Believing the wrong people. Turning against your friend.”
She paused, exhaling sharply, her breath visible in the chilled air.
“Lately, though, I think I’ve turned a corner. I’m working for Stark of all people. I’m making friends. And last night I think I finally made up for one of my mistakes.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly. “Anyway. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you. And I always will. But I’ve realized that at some point… I have to say goodbye.”
Her voice cracked on the last word. She reached up, swiping at her eyes, and let out a soft, tearful laugh. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
Rising to her feet, Yelena looked down at the gravestone, searching for the right words. None came. Instead, she whistled a long, two-note call they’d used as children.
She closed her eyes, listening for a response she knew would never come.
After a long moment, she patted the gravestone lightly. “Goodbye, Natasha,” she whispered.
And then she turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.