clandestinement | Early release

Early release - for worthallthis

They survive, in the end. That much is a miracle in and of itself. They survive, mostly intact, still themselves. And then comes the parting. There is no option to stay, to make a real life - so long as they remain, the connection to the place they came from remains, a flaw in the walls of reality that could be pried open or slipped along, the whole cycle restarted on new ground. There is no option to choose a new world to settle on. It's home, or death.

They promise to find each other on their own worlds, so like one another as to be nearly indistinguishable. It will not be the same. It's the best they can do with the hand they've been dealt. Yelena, the one who had walked two years in another world, who had faced monsters and the awful temptation of power, has the easier task in 2023.

Yelena, the one in his time, is still a tool of the Red Room, still under the thrall of a poison that will not have a certain cure for years. The serum distilled from her older counterpart's blood and cerebral fluid may work. There had been no sure way to test it. "It will take years for the neural pathways to repair themselves, if this doesn't work," the older Yelena had warned. "At least two, probably closer to three."

But even before that comes the problem of tracking her down. There is no intel on where the Red Room is, in his time. It moves, and the Widows are drugged both coming and going, aware only of their entry and extraction sites. The older Yelena can only tell him where she will be. It's nearly three months between his date of return and the date on which a suitable mission will present itself - one on which she will be alone, without the risk of other Widows, victims all of the Red Room's poison, interfering. Without the red dust, there is no guarantee of freeing them, and she's not willing to sacrifice them to secure her own early release.

And so: Bern. Yelena, younger, still the Red Room's plaything, is set up in a small apartment, paid for under the alias of one of her handlers, under the pretense of being a young mistress. One with a minor admin role at a scientific institution that is hosting a large conference, at which - regrettably - one of the speakers will suffer a fatal heart attack tomorrow. Tonight, she is running through the plan one last time, accounting for last-minute scheduling changes - nothing that speaks to any interference. Her target's schedule remains the same. Her exit window will just be a little tighter than she'd prefer.

In the living room, her handler is watching television. He'll have nothing to do tomorrow; it's two days before she'll be extracted, if all goes to plan, time built in to go to ground and take down the trappings of this identity.

No one is expecting any visitors.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I haven't spent a lot of time with rich people," Winter admits. "Not in a. Social setting." He's pretty sure some of the HYDRA higher-ups were rich, and they'd been terrible, but they were also HYDRA higher-ups. He hadn't thought about whether all rich people were terrible. He wouldn't be surprised, though. The rich people he'd known about in Gloucester had all been Avatars, so.

He shakes his head a little, and adds, "The fancy dinner we'd all have to sit at a table and be served, is all. The regular dinner has a buffet."

Yelena gives him a little smile, nose scrunching in what appears to be genuine, if muted, amusement. "You haven't missed much."

She glances at the small clock fastened to the table between the two beds. "We have a few hours, then, to relax and learn where things are." The small smile edges just a little bit wider. "I want to find the pool."

"Are you gonna swim?" Winter asks with half a smile, imagining her splashing around. Well. Probably she wouldn't splash much, knowing her, but still. "I will have to leave that bit of fun to you. I can't even sunbathe." He says it a little regretfully. The metal arm means long sleeves and gloves, even in the sunshine.

"Yes," Yelena says. She hesitates for a long moment, before finally admitting, "I love swimming. It's a little bit like flying, I think. Though I have only ever flown a helicopter or a plane."

Given all the strangeness their world has to offer, it merits clarification. She has no superpowers at all, just training. A lot of training.

She considers him briefly before suggesting, "Maybe after we have saved the world from aliens, we can find a private beach to take over. Then you can sunbathe all you want."

Even with his own superpowers, as they are, he can't fly, either. His smile gets bigger at her suggestion. "Usually I just find a roof if I really want to bask. Just not a lot of roofs that are safe on a ship like this. But that sounds like fun. Bet we can find one some HYDRA asshole owns and kill him for it."

Yelena's head cants slightly as she turns this over in her mind, and then she grins, quick and bright enough that, for a moment, she very much resembles the woman he'd known in a moment of mischief.

"I like this plan," she says. "I like it a lot."

Winter chuckles, expression shading fond. Yeah, he knows that look, and it's nice to see her look less careful. "We'll do it, then. We'll see if a supersoldier can get sunburned." He thumps his head back against the wall. "So explore now, or rest now and explore after dinner?"

Yelena considers for a long moment, then ventures, "I can scout now, while you take a break. That way, we know a little more about the lay of the land, but you don't have to deal with the social bullshit for a while."

She could use the little stretch of time alone to process - and there's a part of her that wants to test her new leash, see if he's willing to give her that freedom, and trust her not to jump overboard or stab anyone in a fit of panic.

He wouldn't blame her if she went over the side and swam for shore before they got too far out. They've only just started retracting the anchor, from what he can hear from this cabin, so it'd be an easy swim. "Solid plan," he says with a nod, and sits up more fully to dig into his duffel for a book. "Think I'll read for a bit while you do that."

She swings around on the bed and comes to her feet, popping up like she's on springs. But she pauses before heading for the door, head canting slightly as she considers for a moment, then asks, "What are you reading?"

She's never had the opportunity to read for fun. One could say it's a novel idea.

Winter pulls the book out to show her the cover. It's an older fantasy-sci-fi thing he picked up out of a used book bin at one of their stops on the way here, called The Darkangel. The picture on the front of a multi-winged vampire carrying away a young woman had caught his attention, reminded him of old horror movie posters. "I haven't started this one yet, but it looks interesting."

He has three more books in his bag, but this is the only one he hasn't read yet. He's hoping one of the on-board shops has books to add to his collection.

Yelena suppresses a shiver of unease at the image of the monster stealing away a girl. It's just a story, she tells herself. In stories, monsters can be vanquished.

"You will have to tell me if it's any good," she says, then turns toward the door, posture shifting to something open, relaxed - a young woman having fun exploring the cruise ship.

Considering he's likely to wind up reading parts of it aloud now and then, she'll probably find out for herself. He waves her off, settling back on the bed to start his book.

They spend a couple days being boring normal people by day, prowling the ship by night, and snitching food from the buffet dinner to hoard in their cabin. Winter does watch over her in the pool one afternoon, though he doesn't stay out long because the sunlight on his two layers of long sleeved shirt are uncomfortably warm. He buys six more books, though three of them look really dumb. He also buys a couple decks of cards, which he imagines they can play with or he can make towers with, whichever.

Around midnight a few nights in, before either of them are ready to actually turn in but after he's done a night prowl, he gives Yelena a little nudge with his boot when he comes back into the cabin. "Come on. Wanna show you something."

Yelena's borrowed one of the books he's already finished, and is sprawled out on her stomach on her bed when he comes in, chin propped in one hand, reading through it. She glances up when the door opens, and blinks at the nudge before marking her place with a brochure she'd swiped from the gift shop solely for the map inside.

She rolls to her feet before bending to pull her own boots on, sliding a short knife into the sheath in the left as she does - not out of concern that this is the world's most convoluted assassination attempt as out of long habit. She may never feel comfortable unarmed. If she does, it won't be for many years.

"Okay," she says. "Lead the way."

There's no questioning the knife; he has three on his person right now. That's just good sense, really, to never go anywhere unarmed. There are some probably bad habits she has which are never going to be challenged by him, and that's one of them.

He leads her out, then up, climbing the stairs to the top deck, and from there out along the side of the ship using a strung rope. It's a convoluted trip, but it ends with them on a rooftop devoid of any oversight or spotlights, near the back of the ship. He's laid out a blanket and some snacks in a gift box, in lieu of a proper basket.

The stars are really spectacular back here.

For a moment, Yelena doesn't even notice the snacks, because the stars...

"Oh," she says, barely more than a short exhale, head tilting back to take in the expanse of the Milky Way above, like a glittering river of light she could fall into, vast and impossible and more beautiful than anything she can remember seeing, than the memories of fireflies dancing in a back lot that smelled of the distilled essence of summer. Than anything, certainly, that inhabits the dull grey expanse of the last several years.

She doesn't even notice the tears that well up, spilling from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks.

Since the stars are the real reason he brought her up here, Winter smiles at her expression, quiet, letting her look for a minute while he just settles back on his heels.

Until she starts crying, then he maybe panics a little. She's not supposed to be crying! He's aware of the phenomenon of "good crying" given that's mostly what he does, but he has no idea that's what this is. "Yelena?" he asks worriedly.

She jolts a little at the sound of her name, brought abruptly back to attention. It's only then that she realizes her cheeks are damp, and reaches up to dash the tears away with the heel of her hand. She rolls her shoulders, forcing a grin into place that doesn't quite fit with the lingering tremor of awe in her chest.

"I'm fine," she says. "My emotions are just wobbly still. A little."

A moment's pause, and she adds, "It is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me out here."

Edited 2024-01-08 03:28 (UTC)

"I hoped you might like it," he says, just a little shyly. "I used to love the stars, I think. Before. All this." He gestures vaguely at himself. He's gotten more and more memories back since coming back into this world; he's not sure how much is there being more things here to remind him, and how much is having the serum back, repairing damage to his brain.

He drifts over to the blanket and pats it gently. "Sit?"

"I haven't had much chance to look at the stars," she admits. "Just a few training missions, in cold weather survival."

She gives herself a shake, and comes to sit next to him on the blanket - not as close as his Yelena would, but closer than she might have at the start of this.

"There were other missions in remote areas, but it was...after. I didn't really look for beautiful things then."

"It took me a long time to look for beautiful things again, too," Winter agrees quietly, leaning back on his metal hand for unwavering support while he looks up. "To even recognize them."

Frankly, even for a large chunk of his time in Gloucester, he hadn't looked. Hadn't bothered. Not really until cutting out ornaments for a Christmas tree, movies about dinosaurs and heroic robots, and reading books to little children, had he thought much about things more than just for their practicality or people more than whether they were his to protect and love or not.

"I'm glad you can now," he continues. "I think. I think beautiful things are important, too."

His Yelena might have comically gaped at him for the mere suggestion.

"They're nice," she hedges. She's not ready to commit to important, not yet. Important things can be used as leverage, can be taken away. She doesn't think he's inclined to do that, but the habit of hiding anything she cares about is deeply enough ingrained that it will take a while to break.

Even if the truth had been streaming down her cheeks not two minutes ago.

"Were the stars the same there?" she asks. "On this other Earth?"

Yeah, she's not hiding that one, but she's also right that he's not inclined to take anything away from her. If anything, he wants to give her everything he can. He doesn't comment on it, no matter how inane calling them "nice" sounds right now.

"Sometimes. Sometimes the fear entity things changed the sky, especially near the end. It was all fake, though. The changes only happened above our town, not the rest of the world, so it had to be."

"Like skies from alien planets?" Yelena asks, and in spite of herself, she sounds a little intrigued. From what little he's shared about the world he'd come from, she's certain the illusion of another sky must have been somehow horrifying, like an operation set up to break down its victims' sense of reality. But divorced as she is from anything related to the Dread Powers, it sounds a little bit amazing, too.

"I heard that when the Chitauri invaded New York, some of the people near Stark Tower were able to see through their portal into another part of the galaxy."

"I'm still annoyed they didn't wake me up for that," Winter comments. "I would've loved to see it. I looked it up in the news once I got back, but it wasn't the same." Not that the him who existed in New York in 2012 would've appreciated a portal to another part of the universe, but maybe he could look back on it now and be amazed.

He looks up at the stars again. "Mostly the fear entity things took the stars away. One by one, until there was nothing. Just endless nothing. It was kind of awful, actually."

Early release - for worthallthis

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