Yelena hated waiting.

She paced the length of the small apartment like a caged animal, arms folded tight over her chest, jaw locked so hard it ached. Every few minutes she glanced at her phone, checking for messages that weren’t there.

You were thousands of miles away, in a conflict zone where things changed in seconds. And she couldn’t be there with you.

For someone like Yelena Belova — who had survived the Red Room, the Blip, and mission after mission without backup — this felt like torture. Not knowing. Not being able to watch your back.

She finally dropped onto the couch, elbows on her knees, thumbs rubbing restlessly over each other. She didn’t realize she was shaking until she tried to pick up her water bottle and nearly dropped it.

“Calm down,” she muttered to herself. But she couldn’t.

Not when she knew exactly what it felt like to be caught in crossfire. Not when she knew how easily a convoy could be ambushed. Not when you hadn’t checked in for nearly sixteen hours.

Her phone buzzed and her breath caught— But it was just a weather alert.

She let out a frustrated hiss, rubbing her palms over her face.

“Just send me one message,” she whispered to the empty room. “One message to tell me you’re okay.”

⸻

Meanwhile — miles away

Sand whipped across your face as you crouched behind a half-demolished wall, your pulse thundering in your ears. The mission had gone sideways fast—intel missed an entire enemy squad, and your team had been forced to scatter for cover.

Gunfire cracked somewhere to your left. You tapped your radio, trying to raise your squad leader, but the feed was full of static.

“Come on… come on…” you muttered.

A shadow moved across the rubble. You whipped your rifle up just as a blast detonated behind you—an IED, triggered by the pressure of your heel as you pivoted.

The world went white, then soundless, then painful.

You hit the ground hard, the force knocking every breath from your lungs. Heat seared up your leg. Something was terribly wrong — the kind of wrong your brain only processed in slow pieces.

You tried to push yourself up. Your body didn’t cooperate.

You tasted blood.

Your vision blurred around the edges as the medic from your unit skidded into view, shouting something you couldn’t quite hear. Their hands pressed down hard—too hard—on your leg. You couldn’t tell if it was still whole.

Darkness kept tugging at your vision.

You thought of Yelena.

Her voice, her laugh, the annoyed little sigh she made when she pretended not to worry.

You tried to speak her name but only a rasp came out.

“Stay with me—hey! Stay awake!” the medic barked. “We’ve got you. Evac on the way!”

Your head lolled to the side, the dust-filled sky spinning above you as everything grew dimmer…

And dimmer…

And then—

Black.