The first time you noticed it, you told yourself you were imagining things.

Yelena always kept a bottle somewhere.

A drink after a mission.

A glass with dinner.

Something to help her sleep.

At first it didn't seem unusual.

Then one glass became two.

Two became three.

And eventually you started noticing empty bottles where they shouldn't be.

The kitchen.

The living room.

The bathroom sink.

Her training bags.

You noticed.

Neither of you talked about it.

Ever since Natasha's death, something had changed.

Not all at once.

Slowly.

Yelena still laughed.

Still made sarcastic comments.

Still rolled her eyes whenever somebody annoyed her.

But sometimes you'd wake up and find her staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping.

Sometimes she'd disappear into her own thoughts halfway through a conversation.

And sometimes she'd reach for a bottle instead.

The worst part was that she always acted fine.

Until one night.

You woke up and immediately noticed the empty space beside you.

The sheets on Yelena's side of the bed were cold.

Three years together and she almost never left without waking you.

A knot formed in your stomach.

You already knew where she'd be.

The kitchen light was on.

Yelena sat alone at the counter.

A half-empty vodka bottle beside her.

Another already in the trash.

She looked exhausted.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Like she was carrying something too heavy for one person.

"Yelena." You said softly

She didn't look up.

Just took another drink.

You sat beside her.

"How much have you had tonight?"

Yelena laughed quietly.

"Enough."

Her words were slightly slurred.

Your heart sank.

"You didn't come to bed."

"I wasn't tired."

The lie was obvious.

Silence settled between you.

For a while neither of you spoke.

Then Yelena suddenly laughed again.

A small, broken sound.

"You know what is funny?"

You stayed quiet.

"I spent years trying to find her."

Her voice cracked.

The smile vanished immediately.

"And when I finally got her back..."

She couldn't finish the sentence.

The silence that followed hurt more than any words.

You looked down at the bottle.

Then back at her.

Yelena stared at the counter.

"I keep thinking about things I should have said."

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Things I should have done."

She stopped talking for a short moment.

"I keep thinking maybe if I had been there..."

She stopped.

Swallowed hard.

"But she is still gone."

The words broke apart coming out.

You gently took the glass from her hand.

This time she didn't stop you.

Didn't argue.

Didn't even look at you.

"I don't know how to do this."

The admission was so quiet you almost missed it.

Your chest tightened.

Because Yelena never admitted when she was struggling.

Never let people see this side of her.

You reached over and took her hand.

Cold.

Shaking slightly.

Immediately she looked away.

Unable to meet your eyes.

"You don't have to do it alone."

Yelena laughed weakly.

"That is easy for you to say."

"No."

You squeezed her hand gently.

"It isn't."

For the first time she looked at you.

Really looked.

Tired eyes.

Glassy eyes from the alcohol.

Months of grief hidden behind walls that were finally beginning to crack.

You swallowed.

"I know I can't fix it."

Her expression softened.

"And I know I can't make it stop hurting."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"But I will stay."

The room fell silent.

"I will sit with you when it hurts."

Your voice shook.

"And when you wake up at three in the morning and think you're alone..."

You squeezed her hand.

"...you won't be."

That finally broke her walls she tried so desperately to keep up.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just completely.

You wrapped your arms around her.

For a second she froze.

Then her forehead pressed against your shoulder.

Her hands gripped the back of your shirt tightly.

Like she was afraid you'd disappear too.

You held her closer.

One hand in her hair.

The other around her shoulders.

"Im there... till the end of the line okay?"