Will

Yelena sat in the cold, hard plastic chair of the prison visiting room, tapping her fingers against the metal table in front of her. The room smelled of disinfectant and stale sweat, a combination that was as suffocating as the oppressive silence around her. Guards patrolled with eyes sharp and suspicious, and every so often, a muffled sound from deeper within the prison walls would break the uneasy quiet. 

'Hrm. Look at that. Everyone is watching.'

The doors on the far side of the room clanged open, and Yelena's eyes snapped to the figure being escorted in. Clint Barton, once said to be the greatest SHIELD agent, walked in with the stiff, lifeless gait of a man who had lost more than his freedom. His blond hair had grown out, now streaked with gray, and his gaunt face was marred by deep lines of exhaustion and regret. The vibrant, confident man she'd heard stories about was gone. In his place stood a shadow of what had been—a man broken, not just by prison, but by the betrayal that put him there.

'Almost a year,' Yelena thought as she watched Clint approach, his steps halting and uneven. 'A year of being silenced. A year since they said he murdered his unborn child and almost killed Bobbi. Brutal.'

The report and Kate's words were etched into Yelena's mind like scars. Bobbi Morse had come home late, tired from a day of fieldwork, only to be met with horror. Clint had shot arrows into her abdomen, piercing the life growing inside her. Their child. Then he pushed her down and choked her. 

Yelena recalled the photos. Yes, Bobbi had been choked too, except the choke marks on Bobbi were not the same as the ones on Alistair and Clint. Yes, there was something off about them. 

Regardless, during the night of the crime, Bobbi had screamed, clawed at him, and when that hadn't been enough, she'd used the last of her strength to kick him off just as she began to give birth. Gasping, screaming, bleeding, and giving birth.

The open door had been a miracle. Police officers rushed in, fought, and dragged Clint away before he could finish what he'd started. One officer was said to have choked him during the struggle so hard that his throat became damaged and he went mute. Deaf and mute and with a terrible lawyer, the courts pressed charges and sentenced him swiftly. It was a done deal. But there had always been a question that haunted Kate. The same question that Yelena pondered now.

'Why did the best SHIELD agent in history, someone capable of taking down entire battalions, allow himself to be arrested? If he WAS guilty, he could have gotten away with ease.'

During the trial, no mention of his affiliation with SHIELD was made so that fact was not brought up. Perhaps the judge knew under the table. But if that were the case…

'He didn't just go silent,' Yelena realized. 'He was made to stay silent.'

Clint's dull eyes landed on Yelena. He did not know her. They had never met. He sat down slowly, the chains around his wrists clinking as he placed his hands on the table. The guard behind him, a beefy man with a permanent scowl, stood with arms crossed, eyes trained on Clint like a hawk. One wrong move, and this meeting would be over.

Yelena forced a smile, a ruse as thin as paper. "Dad," Yelena said, infusing her voice with false warmth. The guard shifted. That surprised him. 

Clint's expression didn't change, but she saw the faintest tremor in his fingers. He blinked, once, and she caught it—the silent acknowledgment of the ruse. They only had minutes, if that.

"Do you remember me? I'm Melina's daughter, my name is Annie Oakley. I-it was almost twenty years ago, high school, but you remember, don't you?" Yelena asked, leaning forward as if desperate for the approval of a father who had never truly been one. To the guard, she was just an illegitimate child trying to reconnect. To Clint, the carefully chosen words were a code, learned overnight with Maria Hill's help.

"I just…I just wanted to meet you once. That's all. I want to hear your voice."

Clint's lips parted slightly, but only a gargle. A familiar gargle…

The guard tensed up. Clint's lips closed. Could he speak? Could he not? It was impossible to tell. Except…

'That gargle…' 

"Please, father." Yelena pretended to tear up. "Just…just one word. Please."

Clint's voice gargled again. Something was off. Something was wrong. Yelena was a mercenary. A woman trained to kill and learn the art of assassinations and spying. She knew what this sound was.

'I've heard this before. A torture pill that destroys a person's voice box. What was it called? Green Death?'

So he couldn't speak. That much was confirmed. 'In the report, one police officer choked him while they were fighting him. I already checked out that officer—and he died a month after the incident from an overdose. The second cop in the incident died in a shooting a month after that. So if Clint did get choked, the old witnesses are not there to confirm it. Only Clint Barton himself is left.' 

The photos of him getting choked existed in the NYPD. What did not exist was a record of him swallowing a pill that removed his voice. So did he take the pill during the incident? Or while he was in prison to shut him up?

'...I suppose it doesn't matter, does it? He can't speak and I need to speak to him. That's what this mission is for.' 

"A letter," Yelena begged. "An apology, a-a sentence to say you hate me. Anything. Just…anything."

She acted her ass off, tearing up and hiccupping. A hand to her chest like some priest girl in a video game. 

Clint reached out with shaking hands, fingers curled around the small pencil and pad allowed for inmate visits. The guard tensed, eyes narrowing as Clint scribbled on the paper. 

'If he senses anything off, we're done.'

Clint pushed the pad toward her—but the guard swiped the letter first and read it. He allowed it through. 

Dear Annie,

It's strange, meeting you for the first time here of all places, but I'm grateful you came. Don't let this place or the people in it fool you—they can hide a lot behind friendly faces. Trust is something you should give carefully, especially when someone offers too much, too soon. Her kindness may feel genuine, but remember, not everything is as it seems. 

If you're ever near the corner of Maple and Fifth, there's an old diner called The Strays. They make the best pancakes—my favourite. I hope you'll visit it sometime. That's all I can offer you for now, but maybe one day, we can share a meal there.

Take care of yourself,

Clint

The guard's suspicious gaze relaxed slightly, interpreting it as a man making amends. Yelena picked up the pad and held it close, eyes scanning the letters, searching for the message hidden within the lines. Years of covert training allowed her to see it almost instantly, a cipher embedded in the simple apology.

The first word of the second, third, and fourth sentences spelled out:

DON'T TRUST HER. 

That was the message. 

The chill that ran down Yelena's spine was colder than anything she'd felt in a long time. 'Her,' she thought, the realization sinking in like a stone. 'Natasha. It has to be. She's near by. Not literally but within this circle. Probably watching me even now.'

She looked at the letter up and down for a second time . 'And the Stray's…is there a message there?' 

She placed the pad back down, forcing her expression to remain soft and broken, just as a long-lost daughter might look after seeing her father for the first time in years. Clint's eyes met hers, weary yet...resolute. She could see the plea in them—whatever she was planning, she needed to be careful. 

Before she could say anything else, the guard from Yelena's side stepped in and swiped the letter. "Time's up," he barked, eyes flicking between Yelena and Clint. "And this letter…I'll be taking it."

"Y-yes, sir." Yelena blew her nose. "D-do you have a tissue?"

"No."

Yelena pretended to cry hard and walked away. She wanted to demand answers, but she knew better. This was all she'd get.

'Can't fucking take the letter with me. I doubt this is the shitty American prison system at play. Clint Barton is being watched intensely.'  

Walking out of the prison, the morning light felt like an interrogation lamp. If this was Kate, every step away from Clint's cell felt like a betrayal. But not Yelena. If Clint did die, if this message caused his death, then…

'So be it.'

To untangle this mess and save Kate and Felix, two innocents, then she would risk anything.

***

Investigate, investigate, investigate. 

Even while leaving, investigate.

Felix got out of the elevator and stopped near the tall, polished desk where Czarina sat, her red hair gleaming under the bright, sterile lights of the Oscorp Tower lobby. 

"Leaving already, Felix? That's not like you," Czarina teased, tilting her head in a way that drew attention to the delicate line of her collarbone.

Felix laughed. "Even I have to call it a day sometimes," he said, eyes flicking over her face, trying to read beyond her playful expression. 

"Well, if you're going to be a slacker, who am I to judge?" Czarina quipped, leaning forward slightly. With a smile and a push of her chest, she asked, "Any plans worth mentioning?"

"Depends. If I said I was waiting for a mysterious driver, would you think I'm interesting or just paranoid?"

Czarina laughed, a sound that was richer than her usual giggles. "Taxi driver or friend?"

"Taxi. No friends here."

"I'm leaving early today myself, actually. Think you would mind an extra passenger?"

"Oh? You're leaving now?"

"Family plans," Czarina said. "Already asked for this weeks in advance."

"Then why not?"

Before Czarina could flirt, Felix's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. A text from Yelena hidden as a notification from the taxi app.

"Looks like my ride's almost here," he said, slipping the phone back into his pocket and giving Czarina a quick smile. "Perfect timing."

"Great," she said, gathering her purse and locking her computer screen. She stood up, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt.

The two of them walked toward the entrance, exchanging light banter that felt normal, almost too normal. The Oscorp lobby was thinning out, employees heading home, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around them. Felix caught sight of a sleek, black SUV pulling up to the curb. Yelena was behind the wheel, dark sunglasses obscuring her eyes and her blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

"Ah, here she is," Felix said, nodding to the SUV. "Ladies first." Felix opened the door dramatically.

Czarina sat inside. Yelena looked through the rear window.

"Hey there."

Czarina smiled as she settled. "Hello."

A short beat passed. "Thank you for the ride. You can drop me off at 112th and Amsterdam."

"So this is the extra." Yelena adjusted the rear window and then fully turned to look at her. Then glanced at Felix who had just gotten in too. "The money comes through the app but I'll do this for a big tip, is that fair?"

Felix nodded. "Got it." 

Yelena's gaze flicked back to Czarina. The redhead smiled politely as she would a stranger. 

"Good," Yelena said. 

Yelena pulled the car smoothly away from the curb and into the bustling evening traffic. Felix watched them both in the rearview mirror, half-expecting some spark of recognition, a flicker of tension. But there was nothing. No Spider-Sense either. No animosity.

Czarina and Yelena did not know each other.

Czarina sat back, legs crossed, her expression relaxed as she glanced out the window, and Yelena kept her eyes on the road, occasionally stealing a glance at her passenger.

"So, Czarina, what do you do when you're not keeping Oscorp running?" Yelena asked casually, her tone light and conversational.

"Oh, you know, this and that," Czarina said. "I'm a bit of a chameleon. Organizing meetings, running background checks on potential hires."

"Sounds like you have an interesting life, at least from a taxi driver's perspective," Yelena said. Her voice was smooth, revealing nothing but idle curiosity. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nope. Grew up on the West Coast, actually. Moved here for the excitement, I guess," Czarina replied.

They pulled up to Czarina's stop. She lived in a pretty typical brown apartment complex across a Cathedral Church. 

"Thanks again, Felix. And nice meeting you...?"

"Yelena," she supplied, giving a casual nod. "Safe trip home."

Czarina stepped out of the car, waving once before heading toward her house. The SUV eased back into traffic, and for a moment, there was silence between Felix and Yelena, the only sound the soft purr of the engine and the hum of the city outside.

"Well," Yelena said, glancing at Felix in the rearview mirror. "She's pretty."

Felix let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. She's something, alright. Think she's suspicious?"

"Most people have skeletons. She probably has one or two in her closet. But she's not who we're looking for. She's not Natasha Romanoff."

This time, he felt tension. "Did you find out anything from Clint Barton?"

"I did."

Felix's posture straightened. "And?"

"He's not in good shape. But he managed to get a message to me. The letter itself was taken but I wrote it down when I got in." Yelena's jaw tightened. "In the letter was a secret message: 'Don't trust her.'"

"Her…is it your friend Natasha?

"I think so. Probably." Silence. "Me and Maria will try to decode the message. You on the other hand…" 

His Spider-Sense buzzed. "SHIELD, right?"

"They're trailing us. I'll take you home." 

***

Felix's day had already been long, packed with enough tension to make anyone's nerves fray at the edges. He left the car, pretending that Yelena was a taxi driver, and went up the stairs and to his floor.

"Ah, well, I don't…"

"You don't know when he's coming."

"No. I mean, he might be back in a couple minutes. Why not come inside to my place?"

"Hrm…"

Standing in front of his door was Rio and confronting her was a woman Felix had never seen before, dressed in a sharp business suit that clung to her frame with tailored perfection. She exuded an air of confidence, standing tall with one manicured hand resting on the handle of a sleek, leather briefcase.

'Who…? A lawyer maybe?' 

Felix listened to the conversation.

"And you don't have his number?" the lawyer woman asked.

"No," Rio lied. "We're neighbours, that's all."

'Is Rio trying to protect me?' Felix blinked, surprised. 'I guess she thinks I'm in trouble. But this lawyer…I don't think this has anything to do with SHIELD. Or does it?'

God, these were confusing times. And without being able to go to Daxter Labs and get back his Advanced Glasses, he lost the confidence of omniscience and caution.

Felix decided to take the risk and walk. The woman turned as Felix's footsteps echoed down the hallway. Red hair cascaded over her shoulders in perfect waves, and her emerald-green eyes locked onto him with an intensity that made him pause mid-step. She could've been mistaken for a model, but there was something predatory about her gaze, a sharpness that suggested she was more accustomed to boardrooms and courtroom battles than catwalks.

Rio's eyes darted nervously between Felix and the stranger. "Oh, Felix! This woman is here for you," she said, tight with concern. She would have lied through her teeth for him. That kind of loyalty made him genuinely smile.

"Thank you, Rio. I got this." He waved and came close to her. "But I appreciate it."

"Mm." Rio looked at the female lawyer and nodded. "Okay." She returned to her door and went inside, albeit with great hesitation. She didn't seem to like this lawyer. 

The red-haired woman didn't miss a beat, striding toward Felix with a smile that was more professional than warm. "Mr. Faeth, I presume?"

No Spider-Sense. This woman wasn't a danger. "Yeah, that's me. And you are?"

The woman extended a perfectly manicured hand. "Mallory Book. I'm a lawyer with the firm Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg & Holliway. You might've heard of me—some call me 'The face that never lost a case.'"

Felix shook her hand out of reflex, a wry thought flickering through his mind. 'Great. Another redhead who looks like trouble.'

"Good to meet you."

Mallory's eyes glimmered with something unreadable as she continued. "I'm here in relation to the late Alistair Smythe."

"Alistair Smythe?" Felix echoed. The name was still fresh with death. "What about him?"

"You see," Mallory began, the smile dropping from her face as she slipped into business mode. "I was Alistair Smythe's personal attorney, and I am here to inform you that according to his will, all of his assets, including his estate, accounts, and properties, are to be transferred to you, Felix Faeth."

"...huh?"