You hadn’t slept in almost two days. Not really. Not enough to count. Every time you closed your eyes, your thoughts clawed their way back open — mission reports, alarms in your head, flashes of things you didn’t want to see again.

You sat at the safehouse table, elbows on your knees, staring at a cold cup of coffee you forgot to drink. Your vision swayed every time you blinked.

Yelena found you like that.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, arms crossed, her eyes tracing the dark circles under yours, the trembling in your fingers, the way your shoulders sagged like you were holding up the whole world alone.

“Detka,” she said quietly. “You look like death warmed over.”

You forced a weak laugh. “I’m fine.”

“No,” she said flatly. “You’re not.”

She walked over, pulled out the chair beside you, and sat down. She didn’t touch you yet — Yelena was gentle when she needed to be, soft in ways she never admitted.

“How long?” she asked.

You avoided her eyes. “I… slept a little. Earlier.”

“Earlier when?” she said. “Yesterday? The day before? You are shaking.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, but the words slurred slightly, and your body swayed.

Yelena reached out and caught your wrist before you toppled over.

“Enough.” Her tone dropped, soft but unarguable. “Come with me.”

You blinked, exhausted. “Where?”

“To bed,” she said simply.

You hesitated. “I can’t. I still need to—”

She gently lifted your chin with a finger, forcing your tired eyes to meet hers.

“You need rest,” she said. “Not another excuse.”

Your chest tightened. Something hot burned behind your eyes — too tired to hide it.

Yelena saw it instantly.

Her expression softened into something heartbreaking.

“Oh, detka…” she whispered.

Before you could turn away, she pulled you into her arms. And god — your body practically collapsed against her. Like you were waiting for someone to catch you.

She pressed a kiss to your temple, slow and warm.

“You don’t have to hold everything together all the time,” she murmured. “Let me carry you for a bit, yes?”

You nodded weakly, throat tight.

She wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you to the bedroom. You were so tired your feet dragged, vision blurring. She didn’t let go once.

When you reached the bed, she sat down first and tugged you gently onto her chest, positioning you between her legs, your cheek resting over her heart.

Your voice was a whisper. “I—I won’t fall asleep…”

“Yes, you will,” she said softly, running her fingers through your hair. “Because you’re safe. With me.”

You didn’t mean to fight it — but the fear of letting go, of sleeping, made your breath hitch.

“What if I—”

“Shh.” She pulled the blanket over both of you. “Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it. I’m not leaving.”

Her hand rubbed slow circles down your spine. Her heartbeat was steady, warm, grounding.

You felt yourself sinking. Your muscles unwound one by one.

“You can sleep, detka,” she whispered into your hair. “I’ll stay awake for both of us.”

That was the last thing you heard before your eyes slipped shut without permission, your body melting completely into her embrace.

And for the first time in days, you slept. Deep. Safe. Held tightly against the one person you trusted more than your own breath.

Yelena kissed your forehead, whispering into the quiet:

“Good. Rest now. I’ve got you.”

And she didn’t let go. Not even for a moment.