The Thunderbolts safehouse was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every small noise echo. You were leaning against the counter, sipping water, trying to shake off the headache that had been creeping up all day.
Yelena was nearby, focused on cleaning her weapon. She didn’t notice the way your eyes kept flicking to the ceiling, how your vision wavered.
“Detka, you okay?” she asked casually, glancing up.
You nodded too quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah… fine.”
Yelena returned to her work, thinking you were just tired.
⸻
A few minutes later, you froze mid-step. Your gaze drifted off, unfocused, staring at nothing. Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came.
Yelena looked up.
“…Detka?”
You didn’t respond. Not a word.
Her brow furrowed. “Hey. Look at me.”
You still didn’t move.
Then, suddenly, your knees buckled. You collapsed onto the floor, and your body began jerking involuntarily. Your arms flailed, your head twisted slightly — everything moving out of your control.
Yelena’s eyes widened, panic rising instantly. She dropped the weapon and lunged toward you.
“Detka! I’ve got you!” she shouted, catching your shoulder and pulling you gently to the carpet.
Your body trembled and convulsed for several long moments, your breath uneven, heart racing. She held you close, pressing her hands against your shoulders to keep you safe, whispering over and over:
“You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
Her voice was calm, but her hands shook. She brushed your hair away from your face, guiding your head gently to the side.
The jerking slowed. Your body went limp, and she wrapped you in her arms, holding you tightly against her chest.
“Shh… it’s over now. You’re okay,” she murmured, rocking you slightly. “I’m here. I’ve got you, detka. Always.”
You blinked, disoriented, overwhelmed by exhaustion.
“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely able to speak.
Yelena pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t apologize. You’re not broken. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just… scared, because I care. That’s all.”