Widow Sisters and Friends (Restoring Our Broken Hearts)

Her

Summary: Yelena pressed her forehead to the gravestone, wishing more than anything that instead of hardened, cold concrete that there would be her soft, forgiving skin there instead. And so, she finally collected her courage, whistling their signature tune. There was silence. She started to get up, but then she heard it. The definitive returning whistle.

A/N: A fix-it fic for Black Widow's ending. Keep it mind I haven't watched the movie yet, but I've seen enough spoilers to get a pretty good idea of what's going on 😉 ( I think) Sorry if the stuff about the soul stone isn't accurate. I'm making my own happy ending here 😂😂😂

   Yelena pressed her forehead to the gravestone, wishing more than anything that instead of hardened, cold concrete that there would be her soft, forgiving skin there instead. But it was not to be. There was nothing there but the roughness of the stone, and it was most certainly not her warmth.

She knew it was hopeless. This gravestone could never give her the comfort that she so desired, craved, and needed from her. And so, she finally collected her courage, whistling their signature tune.

There was silence. She had expected the quiet, but expectations made it no less painful than it would have been if she had not known. It still stabbed at her heart, and her heart was still bleeding love and pain from the invisible wounds.

She started to get up, but she heard it. The definitive returning whistle. Yelena froze, her muscles tensing almost violently as she waited carefully. Some part of her was terrified to turn and look behind her. Widows were not intended to feel such fear, but this was deep rooted in pain, grief, and love.

She swallowed hard, turning her head slowly as she looked behind her, reaching for the concealed gun she had in her pants. She did not know how anyone could know their whistle, but she was definitely not going to assume the person had good intentions.

However, when she was turned around, on her feet and looking directly behind her, she almost dropped the knife as she gaped at who was standing there looking back at her.

It was her.

The person that meant the most to her. The person who she had cried for weeks and weeks over. The person who owned all the things in the room that Yelena curled up in every night, her nose stuffed in the vest with all the pockets because it smelled like her. The person she hated for leaving her and that she wanted to hit and kick and squeeze the life out of. The person that she always loved so fiercely and cared about more than anything on the entire earth and just wanted to stuff her nose in her neck and breathe her scent when it's fresh and not on a stupid piece of clothing.

Yelena almost did not believe it. It was a trick of the eye. Perhaps she had finally went insane and this was some sort of bittersweet respite that her mind constructed for her.

Or what if it was someone sent to trick her and eliminate her?

Her hands tightened a little on the gun at that thought. It seemed much more probable than any other explanation that she had come up with. And it surely to goodness could not be what it actually appeared to be. Yelena had searched for the Avengers, spoke to them, angrily demanded a way to get her back. It was how that, out of pity, they had sent all of Natasha's things to Yelena's place where she was now so that Yelena could fill her room with her scent and some semblance of her being.

They had said that nothing could be done for her.

So this person before her could not be the person that she thought it was. Even though she had that same stupid love and guilt in her pretty green eyes that she had always had as she stared Yelena down.