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"Yelena, what have I said about jumping out windows?"
Yelena sighed, bracing herself for cold alcohol on her back. "Not to."
"Mhm." Applying liberal amounts of rubbing alcohol to a gauze pad, Kate gently scraped the surface of the wound on Yelena's back. "And what did you do?"
"I jumped out of a window..."
Yelena sounded more defeated than anything, though Kate wished she was more apologetic. One of these days a stunt like that would get someone killed, and as Kate worked to clean Yelena's injuries on her back, light glinted off of the ring on her left hand, and she frowned.
"You know why I'm upset, Yelena..."
Running a hand over her face, Yelena deflated, allowing Kate to tend to the rest of her wounds as she sat shirtless on the edge of their bathtub. Kate worked with nimble, experienced hands as she cleaned, bandaged, and stitched her wife's battle wounds, taking in the canvas of puffy, pink flesh when she finished. The sheer number of old injuries on Yelena's back made her see red, and though she knew better than to ask about them, she often found herself tracing them as she did now, a silent acknowledgment of her pain, her past.
Yelena was rarely vulnerable, but now as she sat half clothed in the small loft she shared with Kate, she allowed her eyes to close as Kate's fingers danced over so many relics of her past. Yellow light trickled in from the half closed bathroom door, and though macabre, the way the light gleamed off of the discarded bloody rags made the space almost warm.
They were used to this, unfortunately, and found a sick comfort in it, or at least Yelena did. Knowing that no matter how injured she dragged herself home from missions, Kate would be there, ready to hold her, to heal her, to make her whole again.
"I've got you..." Kate whispered, planting a kiss on every closed up wound as her fingers ghosted over Yelena's body. She kneeled behind the woman, and inched closer as her fingers made their way around to Yelena's stomach. Resting her head on Yelena's shoulder, Kate traced scars without looking. She knew where her lover's pain lay. "I've got you."
"I know, myshka," Yelena muttered, eyes still closed. She nuzzled her head against Kate's, hoping to convey her gratitude, her affection. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"The only way you could scare me is if you didn't come home." Kate leaned back, hands now cupping Yelena's jaw as the other woman turned. "It's late, my widow. You need to rest."
Yelena rose, following Kate to their quaint bedroom, full mattress occupying most of the space. "So do you."
Kate merely shrugged at this suggestion, and Yelena frowned. Guilt consumed her for causing her wife so much worry, taking up so much attention, needing so much care. Kate had a habit of neglecting her own needs in exchange for her wife's- staying up to ungodly hours until she returned home, tending to Yelena's wounds before her own. The dark circles under Kate's eyes did not escape the spy's notice, and the pain that caused surpassed that of any wound.
Throwing on one of Kate's t-shirts, Yelena crawled into bed, not settling in until Kate joined her. In the oversized black shirt, Yelena looked so small, not at all like an international spy and highly trained assassin. In moments like this, when her widow was so open, willing to be vulnerable, be held, Kate could not help but feel as though it was all worth it. The pain, the secrets, the toll this life took, was worth it. For her.
Kate turned the covers, climbing into bed and allowing Yelena to lay on her chest. She crossed her arms lightly over Yelena's back, not wanting to disturb fresh bandages or cause any more pain. The blonde sighed contentedly, finally relaxing after a long mission, finally back with the woman she loved, the woman she somehow once hated.
Though finally comfortable, neither woman could fall asleep. After a little while, Yelena glanced up to Kate's glazed over eyes, in a fugue state as she rubbed circles on Yelena's shoulder with her thumb.
"Kate?"
"Hm?"
"What are you thinking about, myshka?"
Kate chuckled sleepily. "I always love when you call me that."
Yelena offered a reserved smile, sitting up slightly. "That doesn't answer my question."
"Always so direct..." Kate yawned, meeting Yelena's unwavering eyes. "Thinking about all your scars. There's so many, and you were alone for so long..."
"Sometimes by choice," Yelena chuckled, remembering the cat and mouse game the two played for months as Kate tracked the blonde across borders, over seas. That period saw many confrontations between the two, rarely ending without bloodshed. "I know you always wonder about them. I have a few from you, you know."
"From me?"
Yelena rolled up the sleeve of her t-shirt, revealing a thin line down her bicep. "Your knife in Seattle. Lucky throw." She pointed to a jagged mark on her left thigh. "Got this one running from you in Munich, so I'm counting it."
"What the hell is that from?"
"Barbed wire fence."
"Ah. By the airport. We had a good time in Germany, huh?"
"If by 'good time' you mean hand to hand combat, then yes." Yelena nodded with the hint of a grin, hands mindlessly traveling up Kate's arms. "I'm shocked I don't have any arrow scars."
"If I shot arrows at you, trust me, you'd be dead," Kate half joked.
"Oh, myshka," The blonde's grasp faltered, and she sat back on her heels, memories flashing in her head. "Why didn't you? Why keep me alive, after everything I did?"
"Because." Casting a puzzled glance at her wife, Kate grasped Yelena's left hand, kissing her ring. "I knew you, even then. I saw you. You were scared, alone. Deserved a second chance. Or a thousand. However many it took for you to realize that you're good."
"You think too much of me."
"One of us has to."
Gently unclasping her hand from Kate's, Yelena slowly crawled into her wife's lap, a rare occurrence. Muscle memory taking over, Kate's strong arms wrapped around the blonde, and she glanced down in question. Yelena's eyes remained on her lover's body as she replicated an action Kate so often took, tracing the many scars visible on Kate's body. Yelena had always assumed everyone else was as private and standoffish as her, that she shouldn't ask about scars or marks or wounds, but Kate was so open, so good, she always had been.
"What's this one from?" Yelena asked softly, finger outlining a scar on Kate's chin, a thin white line.
"You." Kate smirked. "Surely you remember that one. You punched me in San Diego."
"I did?"
"Mhm. Was a beautiful day, really. It was April so it wasn't too hot yet."
"What about this one?" She traced a little nick in Kate's shoulder.
Kate pursed her lips. "You hit me with a hammer, I think. I wanna say that was in... Chicago? Somewhere like that."
"Oh."
"You don't remember that one?"
"I do now." Yelena frowned, sensing a pattern. She pointed to one scar after the other, remembering some while fuzzy on others, though the answer was always the same. Yelena sliced Kate's thigh in New York, cut her in Lisbon, or kicked her in in London. It was always her. Always her fault. With shaking hands, Yelena pointed to one final scar on her left hip, knowing the answer already. "And this one?"
"Lena..." Kate frowned, pulling back. "Don't do this to yourself. Not tonight."
"No, say it, Kate. What happened?"
Yelena replayed the day in her mind, the day she almost went too far. The day she finally flipped sides, realizing all the wrong she had done and the bridges she had burned.
"You shot me." Kate's gaze was steely, breathing deeply but trying to remain calm. "Please. That's enough. Things are different now. You're different now."
Yelena sat back farther, taking in all of her past work. How could Kate have seen any good in this? In the stabs, the slashes, the cuts, the kicks, the bruises, the fucking gunshot wound. How did Kate look at Yelena back then, as she was on the run from both the Red Room and SHIELD, and think she was a person worth saving? Hell, not just saving, but a person worth loving?
"I caused..." Yelena started, voice breaking. "So much pain, Kate Bishop."
"Yeah, you did," Kate admitted, and Yelena crumbled, hands over her eyes, surely shielding tears. "But," the brunette tilted Yelena's chin up, "you were in pain too. Different than mine, but just as real."
Kate tugged her wife back into her embrace as she had so many nights before. Nowadays it was not often that Yelena's demons caught up with her, but tonight, returning from a mission injured and in need of care yet again led the blonde to travel down some familiar paths. In one part of her mind, Yelena knew that Kate loved her, truly and deeply, and had proven what lengths she would go to for her wife. But a loud little portion told her she was a burden, now and then and always would be.
"You love me..." Yelena said, and Kate held her tighter.
"Yes, I love you. We got married, didn't we?"
Yelena sniffed, joking, "we both know that was just for my green card."
"Listen, my love," Kate began softly, kissing Yelena's forehead. "I know what goes on in that pretty head of yours. You're more than what they made you to be. You're not a burden to me. You're not a monster, you're not evil. You're not a weapon. You are my wife. You're my partner, you're my best friend, my fiercest protector. You're radiant, and I love you."
"Thank you," Yelena whispered through wobbling lips. She placed her forehead against her wife's, calloused hands lost in black waves. "Thank you for believing in me. For seeing more than my past. You've saved my life over and over, every day. I love you more than I thought I was capable of."
A hot tear ran down Yelena's cheek, but she smiled remembering the early days with Kate. Navigating a new continent with a woman who was once her enemy, parsing through the emotions of an abusive childhood, of being controlled, being weaponized. Initial feelings of hostility and bitterness toward Kate morphed into begrudging appreciation, then into reluctant fondness, and eventually, over the course of many years, many dinners, many missions, and many, many, late night drives, into love.
Yelena pulled her wife impossibly closer, sitting in her lap with her legs locked around Kate's waist. Kate nudged Yelena's forehead with her own, testing a small smile.
"Are you alright, my widow?"
Yelena smiled broadly at the term. She was no longer Dreykov's widow, or the KGB's, or even SHIELD's, she was Kate Bishop's, now and forever. She had the freedom to choose, and given a hundred more chances, she would choose Kate every time.
"I'm alright, Kate Bishop."
Kate kissed her wife sweetly, grateful to finally have her home again. Sleeping without the woman was a challenge, and as she laid back, keeping Yelena on top of her, she sighed happily. Her hands once again found themselves tracing Yelena's scars, and the assassin allowed it, leaned into it. Soon, once the wounds had closed, the blonde would boast a few more scars on her back, and hopefully with time they would fade.
"I'm sorry about the knife throw," Kate chuckled, finding Yelena's bicep. "You're right, it was lucky."
"No, it's probably my favorite one," the blonde responded lowly, sleep finally nagging at her. "You had good form."
"Plus, it's pretty hot."
"Yes," Yelena hummed, eyelids heavy. "I hope it never fades."
She truly hoped it never faded. Not just the scars, but what she and Kate shared. The blood, sweat, tears, and battle scars that brought them together. A bond forged in blood; a covenant beyond a set of rings. This was her forever. This was her finality.