Her Serendipitous Scapegrace Of A Mind

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/41389326.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Black Widow (Movie 2021), Black Widow
(Comics), Captain America - All Media Types
Relationship: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov
Character: Yelena Belova, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Sickfic, Angst, Nightmares, Vomiting, Coughing, Crying,
Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con,
Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced
Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug
Use
Language: English
Series: Part 5 of MCU Missing Moments
Stats: Published: 2022-09-01 Words: 2007

Her Serendipitous Scapegrace Of A Mind

by ImaginaryMiseries

Summary

"Yelena," She snaps awake. Where the fuck is she?

"I-I…" She tries to push herself upright, but dizziness knocks her down. She's on a bed.
There's someone next to her.

"You've got a high fever, you need to take Tylenol," They command.

"No," Drugs are poison. The Red Room taught her that, well, they tried not to, but she
found out eventually.

"Yelena, you're really sick," The person says, softer this time. Yelena can't trust them,
though. She feels bad. She doesn't know what they're doing to her.

Notes

Sicktember Day One: 'Do you know how to take care of sick person?'

Yelena wakes up with a hypnic jerk. She's burning. Her face is pressed against someone's
collarbone. Everything is dark, blurry, and surrounded by grey sparkles. Something cold and wet is
being swiped down her cheeks. It's nice, but the thin liquid trail it leaves feels like it may as well
be turning to vapor, which is not a pleasant sensation.

"Mm," She whines, attempting to shove the offender's hand away.

"Ssh," Someone soothes. Chilled fingers pet Yelena's hair back. "Go back to sleep, It's okay," They
say. The voice is lower, a bit raspy. She can't quite place it, though. It is familiar, like a Déjà vu
quality.

"What…" Yelena tries to speak, but her voice dies in her throat. It hurts. Everything hurts,
especially her voice box.

"Close your eyes, you're alright, I've gotcha," The person murmurs. It's soothing. Sisterly, almost.
"Breathe, ssh."

"I-" A chesty cough cuts Yelena off. It sends an ache throughout her entire body. Her lungs and
trachea burn. Her joints smart with the little movement. Her head pounds, and her stomach does
several somersaults.

"You're okay, catch your breath," A cool hand runs up and down her back, soothing the urge to
hack her airway up. "You can sleep, I'm here," They intone, either that or the utter exhaustion from
being awake for two minutes is driving Yelena's eyes shut again. It barely takes another ten
seconds for sleep to fully fall upon her.

When Yelena opens her eyes again, Natasha is standing in the kitchen. She's laying on the couch.
It's…ten minutes? Fifteen? Two days? a week ago? Something about the room is off, but she can't
bring herself to care. She hasn't seen Natasha in months.

She tries to move, but nothing happens. It's like her muscles are paralyzed, wait no, she's bringing
a tissue up to her nose. She's not controlling her hand. This is what's weird. She's in her body, but
she's completely frozen.

Oh no, no, no, no. She feels like she should be hyperventilating, but her chest keeps rising at the
same slow rate, with the occasional crackle or wheeze. It's strange. Asthma hasn't bothered her
since they gave her those weird drugs in the Red Room.

"You still feeling rough?" Natasha appears in front of her. Yelena didn't see her move, though. Is
there some sort of time glitch here too?

"Yeah," She hears herself answer. Her voice doesn't feel like her own. It's like she's trying to
puppet a marionette whose strings have been cut.

"You're really warm," Natasha presses her palm to Yelena's forehead. Is she sick? Is this some
alien disease locking her in here? No, head out of sci-fi. "I'm gonna go grab the thermometer,"
Natasha turns around and begins to walk away. It seems like the entire room follows her, and a few
seconds later, Yelena's alone in a void.

It's so strange. There's no colors. Not even black or white. It's just absolutely nothing.

"Yelena," She snaps awake. Where the fuck is she?

"I-I…" She tries to push herself upright, but dizziness knocks her down. She's on a bed. There's
someone next to her.
"You've got a high fever, you need to take Tylenol," They command.

"No," Drugs are poison. The Red Room taught her that, well, they tried not to, but she found out
eventually.

"Yelena, you're really sick," The person says, softer this time. Yelena can't trust them, though. She
feels bad. She doesn't know what they're doing to her.

"No, no, no…" She repeats. Her voice sounds nasally and far away. It hurts too. She feels like she
already knew that.

"Yelen-"

"Stop it, stop it, stop it-"

Stop it. She's in the void again. Fuck. What the hell is going on?

A glittery substance begins to fall from the sky. Yelena feels like she's spinning, maybe on a roller
coaster.

The dust piles on the floor and starts falling faster, then faster, then even faster, until it's
transformed into scenery around her.

She's on her knees now. She never felt herself move, and she can't tell if some kind of teleportation
is making her nauseous, or if that's its own thing.

Natasha is next to her. One arm is supporting Yelena, the other rubs small circles in her lower
back. "You need to drink," She murmurs.

"No," Yelena replies, before she can even process what's happening. Her voice box is numb. She
has no control.

"Yes, you're dehydrated," Natasha shoves a plastic water bottle in her face. The crinkling noise
assaults her ears as if it were a gunshot.

"Ugh," Yelena's yanked away from the toilet, but her arms move like she's pushing herself. Is she a
puppet? Is this some sort of indie horror movie she's been thrown into? "Do you even know how to
take care of a sick person?"

"You're not sick, you're hungover," Natasha replies calmly, then hands her the bottle. "Drink," She
insists.

"No."

"Yes."

"No," The words are starting to burn, as is her throat, as is her stomach, as is her chest, as is- Oh
fuck. Bile pours out her mouth. So much of it. She's choking. It's drowning her. It's filling up this
room, which now feels like is approximately the size of a fish tank. Yelena's entire body is covered
in bright yellow. The acidity is melting her skin. She can't sit up anymore. She falls sideways,
maybe hits her head.

Black.

White.
Yelena's somewhere else now. Her body is intact, unfried, and, in fact, freezing. She sits up slowly.
She's alone. She's in her dormitory. She's in the Red Room.

No. No, no, no, no…

She all but jumps out of her bed. Her legs feel like jello, she's soaked in a cold sweat. It's not
enough to beat adrenaline, though.

Yelena runs to the door, except it's not there. She knows she's in the right spot. She's tried to
escape so many times she could track the route anywhere.

"Let me out," She shrieks and bangs her fists against the blank wall. She realizes she at least has
control over her movement and speech now. But, she's still fucking trapped. "Help, help me," She
screams.

"Shut up," A gruff voice says from behind her. A second later, a cold hand is over her mouth, and
another is ripping her clothes off, and another is tracing the ridges of her body, and another
strokes her chin, and one more is pushing inside- and holy fuck. Everything hurts.

The world spins like never before. This is familiar. Too familiar. This has happened, so many
times.

A Winter Soldier at attention. An instructor on each side, whispering commands in both their ears.

If you don't comply, you will be terminated.

There's blood down her legs. There's blood everywhere.

Yelena's falling. Thousands and thousands of feet.

She lands on her back. A shockwave of pain radiates quickly through her entire body. She vomits
again. She feels herself aspirate. Fuck. She's going to-"

"Wake up," Someone says, loudly. They're holding Yelena on her side. A thin line of acid runs
down the side of her jaw and neck. She can't bring herself to care. She's tired. Her eyes are already
closed again.

Yelena's a child again. She's in a…no. Fuck. No, no, no. She's in a basement. Second US mission.
Failed.

This is where the Creeps kept her- keep her, since she's back.

Fuck.

Oh. Yeah, that's about to happen.

A door creaks. Clicks. Slams. Footsteps. Commands. Sex.

Sex for life. Sex to live.

Yelena grits her teeth as her six months in captivity flash before her eyes in one stop motion-like
static shot.

The man- oh god, what's his name? He's going to be so pissed. Fear pounds in Yelena's ears as he
throws her to the ground.
Except…there's no ground. She keeps going. She keeps falling, until she's suddenly even younger.
Ohio.

"Mama," She rasps softly. Her throat and sinuses smart. Her voice is raspy and sounds nearly…
alien-like? "Mama," She tries again. Melina doesn't move. "Mama please."

"What?" Melina spins around. Her eyes are read. Her face is distorted. "This isn't real," Her voice
is demonic. It's beyond the Hollywood deepening effects. It rattles around in Yelena's head like an
auditory ping pong ball trapped in her brain. It makes her head hurt more. It makes her stomach
turn.

It isn't real. This isn't real.

"It was real to me," Yelena hears her voice. Her current voice. The one low and raspy from years
of drugs, drinking, and screaming for help.

"Don't say that, it was real to me," God, that was so fucking stupid. It wasn't fucking real. It's not
real. It's-"

"-not real, love, wake up, it's not real," Natasha? Is this real? Why's she saying that? What in the
ever-loving fuck is happening?

"Nat?" Yelena blinks herself into awareness. She's in a bed, laying on her side. There's a towel
under her cheek. Natasha's in front of her, crouched, petting her hair out of her face.

"Yeah, it's me, you're really out of it, I know," She whispers. "You were having a nightmare, you
were screaming," She explains quietly. "Your fever was at 103 the last time I checked, but you're
super warm, it could've gone up."

"Oh," This reality doesn't feel…off? Yelena has a strong urge to trust this Natasha, but she also
knows she should be weary. "I don't feel good."

"I know you don't," Natasha hums in sympathy. "How about we get you sitting up and taking some
painkillers, huh?"

"That sounds…good," Yelena nods. She's trying hard to be vigilant, but her brain isn't firing
properly.

"Good, I've gotcha," Natasha supports her from under the arms and sits her up. "Here," She grabs
them off the nightstand, then places a glass of water and a pill in Yelena's hands. Much to both their
surprise, this triggers a visceral response.

"I-I-I…" A conglomeration of memories, some neurologically crafted, others real, flood Yelena's
visual field. Her hands start to vibrate, and she drops both items. The half-full cup spills water all
over her, which sets off a highly unpleasant sensory reaction.

"Geez, okay," Natasha pats her on back. It feels good, but Yelena's mind tells her it doesn't. She
swats at her sister, but loses her balance, and rolls forward off the bed, landing on her hands and
knees. She sobs hard, then retches emptily, then sobs, then repeat.

Natasha stays in Yelena's periphery, but doesn't touch her, and for that she's grateful.

It feels like hours, but it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, when she can finally sit
back on her heels. Tears are still flowing freely, but the painful contractions of her chest and
abdominal muscles have calmed. "Sorry," She forces herself to say.
"No, it's fine," Natasha moves so she can sit next to Yelena. They're about a foot apart, both leaning
against the side of the bed. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," Yelena shakes her head, then regrets it when if sends a wash of vertigo that almost
makes her gag again. "Just, you know, bad dreams, bad memories," It's an understatement, to say
the least.

"I've been there," Natasha shrugs. "Remember a couple of months ago when Ross's goon stuck I
knife through my stomach?"

"Uh, yeah," Yelena replies, unsure where she's going with this. Is she trying to make her anxiety
worse?

"Well, when Steve was staying with me after I was discharged, I woke up in the middle of the
night, went bizzerk, panicked, barfed my guts up everywhere, then cried my eyes out," Natasha
smiles. Yelena can't contain a laugh. "Yeah, Cap was so thrilled when his shoulder was drenched
in saltwater and he was washing puke out of carpet."

"Yeah, I would bet," Yelena grins and leans her head back. She's silent for a moment, then, "I love
you," She suddenly gets the impulse to say.

"Mhm, I love you too," Natasha scooches an inch or two closer. "Always."

"Yeah, always," Yelena nods.

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