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Melina has never considered herself to be maternal.
In more ways than one.
Obviously, from the biological standpoint, it’s quite impossible for her to be. The Red Room’s sterilization procedure had taken care of that quite effectively. She will never have children.
It’s not like she wanted kids anyway. Kids were a liability, a weakness, a burden. Widows have no need for children. No families—no children, no pets, no lovers. No attachments. Attachments made you weak. Love was for children. After cycling through the Red Room five times, it was practically drilled into her.
So when she reads the mission brief and sees that she has to play the part of a mother of two little girls, she balks. Just at first, and then she accepts it, because what other choice does she have?
She meets them at the Red Room. The older girl with fiery hair and personality, from the way Melina’s seen her grapple and fight. She’s good, probably one of the best from her cohort. And then there’s the little girl—three years old, new to the program and still with baby fat on her cheeks and innocence in her brown eyes. From their files, she knows the red-haired one is Natasha, and the younger is Yelena.
Madame B pushes them towards Melina, “Natalia Romanoff and Yelena Belova,” she introduces briskly, “This is Melina. You are to go with her. She is a Widow, like you will be one day.” The two girls eye Melina curiously, almost in awe of being in the presence of a Black Widow. They are not in the Red Room uniforms of their peers, but clad in a T-shirt, jacket, and jeans, and they seem to squirm in the clothes they’re not used to. The other girls in class crane their necks to see where they are going, until Madame B snaps at them to focus.
Melina nods briefly in acknowledgement to Madame B, before leading them down the corridor to the hangar. “Let’s not keep him waiting.” They wordlessly follow after her; Yelena despite her age already knowing better than to ask any questions.
Alexei is in the plane, ready for take-off. “Let’s go,” he grunts as they enter and Melina shuts the door. He gives each of the girls a cursory nod, and they look unsure and confused as to what to do, until she waves them to the seats at the back of the plane.
She straps Yelena, then Natasha into their seats, before handing them a small glass of water each. “Drink.”
They obey, and by the time Alexei is ready to take off, they are both out cold, Melina having crushed sleeping pills and mixed them with the water.
Children are less of a liability when they’re sedated. It’s an easy way of moving them from one location to another, and she’s experienced it more times than she’s cared to. And maybe for just one last brief moment, Melina can pretend she isn’t going to be a goddamn mother for the next who-knows-how-many years.
She’d memorized the mission brief, every single bit of it, as all Widows are trained to do. It’s a long-term mission, at least two years, maybe up to six, if not more. It’s not anywhere close to the first long-term mission she’s done, and she’s played more roles than she has fingers: college student, vet tech, journalist, damsel in distress, and more. But this is her first time masquerading as a mother. And while she knew the Red Room program trained their girls to be masters of disguise, how exactly do you play the role of someone you’ve never had in your life?
“So, parents, huh,” Alexei chuckles awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable in the silence.
“Ever done it before?” she asks, a little more sharply than she meant, hoping that maybe he had some experience.
“Me? No, no, I’m super soldier, I don’t know this, ah, father thing,” he responds gruffly, waving his hand around. “But we will be fine. We are the best, the best in Russia. And children love me!”
God, he likes to talk. And she lets him do most of it on the plane ride. He drones on and on about his past missions as the Red Guardian, how much the public loves him, and some other stories while she mostly tunes him out, save for adding a few backchannels here and there to pretend she’s still listening.
They land in an abandoned airstrip in the middle of a field in Indiana, where there’s a blue Ford sedan and U-Haul waiting for them. Alexei checks the U-Haul, which has been stocked with some basic furniture and bags—their house in Ohio is already furnished, but they need to look like a family who just moved. Melinda bundles the girls into the backseat of the Ford, and Natasha mumbles something incoherent as the sedative begins to wear off.
She starts the engine as Alexei pulls ahead, and she follows him, their headlights cutting through the darkness. Natasha stirs and drowsily asks, “Where are we?”
“We’re on our way to the house,” Melina states, glancing down at her map.
“I’m hungry,” Yelena slurs, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Natasha jabs her in the ribs, terrified that they would get scolded for her complaint, and Yelena yelps in surprise, not quite understanding, before reaching over in an attempt to hit her back.
“Stop it!” Melina snaps, aggravated by how the first thing they do upon waking is squabble. “We can get some food soon.”
They pull into a gas station in the next small town about forty minutes later. As Alexei fills up both vehicles, Melina buys snacks for them, bringing back Pop-Tarts and chocolates to the girls who are sitting up, wide-eyed and almost drooling at the sight of the food.
She hands them a Pop-Tart each, and they grab it from her greedily, ripping open the packaging and gobbling it down. As they pull out of the gas station, she glances in the rear-view mirror, and Natasha looks back, her green eyes a little less wary than before and the corners of her mouth smeared with crumbs.
The sun is beginning to rise as they cross the border into Ohio, announced by the sign on the side of the road.
“Welcome to Ohio!” Natasha reads out proudly, in an attempt to show off her English.
“Very good, Natasha,” Melina murmurs, and Natasha practically vibrates with glee at being praised.
“O-hi-o!” Yelena sings out, gazing out the window at the scenery rushing by.
They drive for a few more hours in relative silence before reaching their destination, an unassuming two-storey house in a quiet neighbourhood. The children scramble out of the car, stretching stiff limbs and staring in wide-eyed amazement at the scene around them.
Alexei steps out of the U-Haul truck, and stares a bit at the girls before him, a little unsure of what to do. Clearly, Melina thinks, he’s just as lost as I am. Then he clears his throat, “Let’s go inside.” Producing the house key from his pocket, he unlocks the front door and lets them in. Melina enters first, looking around the house the KGB had provided and furnished for them. Natasha and Yelena follow, “ooh”-ing and “aah”-ing at the furniture and decorations that had been set up. It is cozy and comfortable, in stark contrast to the Red Room academy. Outside, Alexei gets the garage door open, making a show of moving boxes in, just in case there are any nosy neighbors who might be watching them.
About half an hour later, he re-enters, as Melina is unloading the clothes from the luggage they had brought. Natasha and Yelena sprawl out on the floor of their new bedroom, clearly tired out from the drive and jetlagged but too excited to sleep.
“Zdravstvuyte,” he greets the girls as they scramble to their feet when he enters the bedroom. “Alexei Shostakov”.
“Natalia Romanoff,” she states, loud and clear.
“Yelena Belova,” whispers Yelena, not quite daring to make eye contact.
There’s some food in the kitchen—probably stocked a day or two ago, considering how there’s fresh milk in the fridge, and Melina busies herself with setting the table and getting out cutlery and cereal. The girls eagerly sit down at the table as she pours out milk and cereal into their bowls, and Alexei takes a seat with a brown manila file in his hand.
“I trust that you’ve read the mission brief?” he addresses Natasha, and she sits a little straighter, nodding. “From now on,” he continues, “you will call me Dad, and Melina, Mum, do you understand?” He looks over at Yelena.
The toddler’s eyes are sparkling. “Are you going to be my Mama?” she asks, turning to Melina, her voice full of hope.
Melina hesitates, almost afraid to be taking on the role officially. But then she remembers the mission, why they are here, and what the ruse is for. Their family construct is just a part of the plan, nothing more, so why was she afraid? “Yes, yes I am, sweetheart” she says reassuringly.
Yelena claps her hands in delight. “Yay!” she exclaims, snuggling close next to Melina. “Mama…” she repeats happily, as Natasha stares from across the table, as if afraid of what Melina would do with this show of affection.
Yelena’s touch catches Melina off guard. Young girls at the Red Room are rewarded by the touch of their handlers—a pat on the head, a hand on the shoulder, and kept deliberately touch-starved to make this reward even more powerful. Those who openly showed affection to other girls were labelled ‘weak’ and eliminated. As they got older, displays of love and affection were only provided to teach them how to model it, to be used on missions to seduce or distract.
The way Yelena has her hands wrapped around her arm sends a tremor through her body. She reaches up, awkwardly, to stroke her on the head, and the girl leans into the touch, sighing happily.
“How long will we be staying here?” Natasha asks abruptly, breaking the silence that had settled over the table.
Alexei looks up from the file he was staring pointedly at the whole time. “Two years, maybe more. Until the mission is completed. And until then you will go to school with the other children in this neighborhood, understand?”
“Yes… yes, Dad,” Natasha replies, trying the word. It looks like it burns her. She’s old enough to know this is all a ruse. Just a pretend game. And she looks as uncomfortable with it as Melina and Alexei both feel.
“And remember, you are both sisters now. No word of the Red Room to anyone. You will not speak of anything you ever did there. Never, do you hear me?” Melina warns sharply. Natasha and Yelena both nod seriously.
The house has been well-stocked by the KGB, but Melina needs a few more things before the day is over, and so she organizes a trip to the grocery stores that afternoon, after the girls have had a short nap. They pile into the sedan, Alexei at the wheel, and head off.
American groceries stores are huge and abounding with foods they’ve never even heard of before, although Melina isn’t exactly sure why they need so many of the same items just in different brand names. The girls seem almost overwhelmed by the new environment, and she hurriedly shuttles them past the cereal aisle so their gaping jaws don’t give them away.
She picks out some fresh vegetables, meat, and cheese, and then Alexei wants to go to the snacks section. The Red Guardian eats like a child, Melina thinks to herself, her nose wrinkling. She indulges the girls by letting them pick out a bar of chocolate each, and they squabble a little before deciding on what to add to the cart. When she picks up toiletries, she buys a pack of colourful hair ties for Natasha, and when Yelena pouts in jealousy, agrees to get her some hair ribbons too.
The last aisle they visit before they leave is party supplies, buying gift wrap and banners and balloons.
“What’s that for?” Yelena inquires.
“It’s for tonight, we’re going to have some fun,” Melina replies with a mysterious wink, and Yelena squeals.
It’s the last thing they need to do before the day is over, another step in creating the illusion of family. They had been instructed to fill up a photo album of memories, dating back at least a year. Alexei gets the camera and sets up the first scene—Christmas. He and Melina wrap empty boxes with colorful paper and tie them up with big, fancy bows. There’s a tree already supplied in the attic, and he sets it up next to the fireplace and adds a few baubles to it, before arranging the presents underneath. Melina brushes the girls’ hair, picks out their clothes, and gives Natasha the colorful hair ties she bought the night before. Natasha understands, slipping them onto her right wrist to cover the pink scar. Then Melina ushers them into the living room, and their eyes bulge as they notice the tree and the presents.
They dive under the tree, picking out the biggest box, the box with the biggest bow, the box wrapped with their favorite color of wrapping paper. The camera flashes again and again, Alexei remarking how nice the shots look, as the girls rip open the wrapping. No matter that the boxes are empty, children at the Red Room don’t even get presents, and opening them is fun in itself. Melina carefully moves the unwrapped boxes out of the shot, and Alexei snaps more pictures of them playing with the torn wrapping paper.
After they’ve settled down, Melina ushers them back to the bedroom as Alexei cleans up the mess. She dresses them in different clothes, combs and braids their hair, before changing into a dress herself.
“Easter Sunday, we’re going to church,” she explains to them.
They walk back to pose in front of the fireplace. Alexei is wearing a button up shirt and black pants, his back to them as he fiddles with the tripod setup. When he turns, his eyes widen as he takes in the sight in front of him.
“You… you are beautiful,” he stammers out, flushing, seeing Melina for the first time in something other than her Widow suit, or the baggy shirts and jeans she wears as “Mum”. Melina takes a shaky breath. She knows she is beautiful, she’s seen the way her targets drink in the sight of her in a low-cut dress, the way the guards at the Red Room let their eyes wander lustfully when she walks by, the way Dreykov looks her up and down whenever she walks into his office. It makes her want to crawl out of her skin.
But Alexei is… different. She can see the arousal in his eyes, but his look isn’t hungry or predatory like the men before her. She’s unsure what it is, hasn’t seen it directed at her before. She tries to collect herself, but her heart is still hammering in her chest when she forces a smile and gestures to the camera, “Shall we?”
They hurry to pose in front of the camera, Yelena picking up the basket of Easter eggs that has been readied, and they grin and smile and say “cheese” just like what they’ve seen in American TV shows they used to watch in the Red Room.
They shoot several more scenes—Alexei setting up new backdrops and props as Melina changes them into different outfits and different hairstyles, giving them instructions on what they are supposed to do. By the time dinner comes around, they have shot not just Easter and Christmas, but Thanksgiving and summer vacation, and the children are almost collapsing from exhaustion.
After the meal is concluded, Yelena and Natasha stumble sleepily to their rooms as Melina puts the dishes in the sink.
“Do I… what do the Americans call it… tuck them in bed?” Alexei asks.
Melina looks up, surprised that he seems to be offering to do it. “You can, if you like,” she says slowly, suddenly unsure if he actually wants to do it, or just hinting that he thinks she should do it.
He immediately turns and heads down the corridor, and she sees him enter the girls’ room. If she strains her ears she can hear him talking to them, and by the time she’s finished with the pots and pans, he’s switched off the lights and comes back to sit at the dinner table.
“They are asleep,” he announces proudly, and she smiles, almost impressed.
She wipes the counter, the stove, and she feels the exhaustion settling into her bones as the day’s events catch up to her, but she doesn’t want to go to bed. Trying to find another chore to do as if to delay the inevitable.
Then Alexei gets up from the table, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor and making her flinch, nearly.
“It’s late, let’s go to bed.”
She obeys, like she’s been trained to. Puts away the last item on the counter and follows him mechanically to the bedroom. Halfway down the corridor, she glances into the girls’ bedroom. They’re both sound asleep, Yelena curled up under the covers, while Natasha sleeps on her back with her right arm positioned above her head. She quietly shuts the door.
Alexei gets in the shower as she changes out of her jeans into a sheer nightgown, just like the ones she always wears on her other missions. Pulling back the duvet, she climbs into bed, waiting for him.
She’s played girlfriends before, mostly as arm candy to a KGB agent—it’s always convenient, disarming to have a pretty girl next to you, someone who smiles and flatters and distracts. She’s skilled in the art of seduction as all Red Room girls are, has been made to have sex with more men than she can count since she was sixteen. She knows how to lure them, make them let their guard down with a batting of an eye or a well-placed hand on their thighs.
But this… this is different. She’s never played a wife on a long-term mission, doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do on nights like this. Her breathing quickens as she hears the water shut off, and a few moments later Alexei crawls into bed next to her.
He looks at her in her nightgown, and smiles appreciatively and says, “You look beautiful.” She knows what he wants, what’s coming next, and she’s done this before so many times, knows she’s never had a choice, so why does the thought nauseate her? But then he flips the lights off and mutters a “goodnight” and turns his back to her and she’s left, confused and bewildered in the dark bedroom.
It doesn’t take long before he’s snoring like a freight train, and she exhales shakily. Almost wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of this whole situation. She’s a Widow, in bed with the Red Guardian, literally Russia’s heroic super soldier, with two widows-in-training sleeping in the next room. In the middle of Ohio, masquerading as a quintessential American family. If she wasn’t overwhelmed with the weight and significance of the mission, wasn’t so well-trained to focus on the mission and only the mission at hand, she would probably find it hysterical.
She settles down to a more comfortable position, moves her right arm so that it’s slung over the headboard. After all these years, she still feels the phantom cuff encircling her wrist, and it’s the only way she’s able to sleep.
The details of the rest of their ruse are finalized soon enough—from now on, they are the Wolf family—Alex and Melissa with their daughters, Natasha and Lena. Having recently “relocated” from Nebraska, Alexei is beginning at an entry level position with S.H.I.E.L.D. at the Ohio North Institute, while Melina’s role was in caring for the children at home.
Just your average Midwestern family.
They fall into their roles quickly enough. They enrol Yelena at a local kindergarten, while Natasha goes to school a week later when the new school year starts, and she excels in her studies, although Alexei remarks in exaggerated disgust that all they teach is “American capitalist propaganda”. She even joins the school gymnastics team at Melina’s insistence that she does not lose the skill from her Red Room days.
Melina learns to be a mother. She cooks the meals, washes the laundry, even starts her own vegetable garden. She gets Natasha and Yelena ready for school in the mornings, and makes sure dinner is on the table when Alexei comes home. She helps Natasha with her homework, and braids Yelena’s hair. And after the children are sent to bed, she and Alexei sit down to discuss the information he obtains from the North Institute, and she makes records, collates data, and sends them back to Dreykov.
She also attends parent-teacher conferences, Yelena’s kindergarten year-end dance recital, and Natasha’s gymnastics competitions. She’s always learning, learning, learning; watching the other mothers in the crowd, how they fuss over their daughters, check their hair and outfits, the snacks and lunchboxes they pack for them to bring to school. And she copies it to a tee. She’s just a mimic. A fake mother who just happens to learn fast and parrot everything a real mother does.
To any outsider, any neighbor or classmate watching them, they would be a normal family, their slight oddities possibly being passed off just as the quirks all families have. But at her heart Melina is still a Widow, a Widow who has graduated from the Red Room, who has been cycled through the program multiple times. Those walls are all she’s ever known. She doesn’t know motherhood, she knows discipline, death, and destruction. Above all, she knows what will happen when this mission is over. She knows Natasha knows, even if Yelena doesn’t remember the cold, dark academy anymore. So she continues to train them, so that they do not grow soft. She drills them in Russian after dinner, teaches them self-defence tactics, making them spar and wrestle with each other or herself, while Alexei teaches them how to take apart and put his revolver back together.
Sometimes, she lets herself sit back and watch the girls at play, and her eyes mist over as she watches them have a childhood she never had. Instead of playing with dolls and tricycles, she had only been given knives and guns and bullets. When she was a little older than Yelena, she had seen one of the guards shoot a younger girl for throwing a tantrum, and could still see the blood and brains splattered across the marble white floors. Girls as young as five no longer flinched or cried when they saw a dead body. She’d had her first kill before she turned eight, when the class was taught how to snap someone’s neck, and then they were assigned a classmate to spar to the death with.
Melina won.
She always wins.
She wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t.
She doesn’t fail missions. That’s why she is Dreykov’s favorite. She is marble, she is unbreakable. And she always does as she is told.
So this mission would be no different, she keeps telling herself. Keep the end goal in mind—collect the data from the Institute, get out of there, return the girls to the Red Room, and go on to the next mission. This whole family construct was just a ruse, a distraction, a way of biding their time. She knows what she was supposed to do, had seen it to TV enough times, been briefed and trained to act like the mother she never had.
Yet this feels more than a mission. It feels different in a way Melina can’t put her finger on. It’s like something protective is struggling up, forcing its way to the surface when she watches the girls, her daughters, at play. The way Alexei looks at her like no man has ever looked before, and how it gives her an aching feeling in her chest. The impending sense of doom that every day is a day closer to when the girls will be taken back to the Red Room and put through tortures she knows far too well.
Suddenly, staying in Ohio with Natasha, Yelena, and Alexei doesn’t seem to be so bad as it had been when she’d first laid eyes on the mission brief. In fact, she realizes her stomach always drops when she thinks about them leaving once the mission is over.
And that epiphany terrifies her.