You were sitting at the far end of the briefing table, knees pulled in, fingers folded neatly in your lap. You always sat there — the corner, the edge, the place where nobody brushed past you or blocked your exit.

Yelena sat beside you like she always did. Close, but not too close. Talking, but quietly today.

Bucky stood behind the table, arms crossed, trying to look patient. Ghost flickered in and out because she hated meetings. Taskmaster stared straight ahead like a machine.

Val swept into the room with a tablet in her hand and a thundercloud on her face.

“Okay, children,” she snapped. “Let’s talk about the silent one.”

Everyone looked at you.

Your stomach tightened.

Val sighed dramatically.

“I need to know what she actually brings to the table,” Val said, waving her tablet. “A mute rookie who freezes when something falls on the floor? Not exactly elite material.”

The words hit harder than she meant. You looked down immediately, eyes burning, fingers squeezing together until your knuckles whitened.

Before you could blink, Yelena was on her feet.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” she said.

Val raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry — I forgot she hired you as her lawyer.”

Yelena stepped forward, voice low and sharp.

“She doesn’t speak. So what? Lots of people don’t speak. Doesn’t mean they can’t fight.”

Val scoffed. “Belova, she’s a liability—”

“She is not a liability,” Yelena snapped.

The whole room went quiet.

Even Red Guardian — who usually couldn’t shut up — stopped breathing.

Val crossed her arms. “And what makes you so sure?”

Yelena didn’t hesitate.

“Because she saved my life on the last mission. Because she follows orders better than the rest of us combined. Because she is aware, fast, and actually uses her brain. And because she isn’t loud and annoying— unlike half this room.”

Red Guardian blinked. “Is she talking about me—?”

“YES,” Yelena and Ghost said in unison.

Val looked at Yelena hard.

“She can’t communicate,” Val said. “That’s a problem.”

Yelena took a slow breath, then turned and pointed to you.

“She communicates just fine,” Yelena said. “You just don’t listen.”

Your chest tightened. Something warm and painful built behind your ribs.

Nobody had defended you like that. Not in years. Not ever.

Val exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if she freezes again—”

“She won’t,” Yelena said fiercely. “And if she does, I will handle it. Not you.”

You slowly looked up at her.

Yelena met your eyes, and her expression softened instantly.

Her voice lowered so only you heard:

“She’s wrong about you,” she whispered. “But I’m not.”

Something inside you loosened. Not enough to speak. But enough to breathe.