The Widow's Daughter - A MCU Fanfiction

Chapter Eighteen

LILIYA POV

The only thing that I could feel in that moment were Natasha's arms surrounding me. My head felt like an empty shell, drained of everything it had ever known. Like the life I had always known had been ripped out of my mind and replaced with confusion and loneliness. It was physically painful. 

I couldn't think or feel anything. I was dizzy and nauseous as I felt her warmth surround my body. I focused in on it, allowing it to fill me up. I felt the painful sting of tears burn in my eyes as she held me close.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. 

I didn't respond... I couldn't respond. 

I just sat there, processing the fact that my whole life was a lie. I laid back onto the bed, my skin dry from the rough sheets. I took in and let out one shaky breath at a time, trying to understand something, anything, about what had just happened.

"Are you ok?" I heard Natasha ask, feeling her hand touch mine. Instinct told me to pull it away, but I didn't. This time I didn't want to.

"I- I think so," I stumbled, quickly blinking and looking around the room. I saw Yelena standing next to Natasha, a warm smile on her face. 

"I'm sorry," I said blankly, shaking my head, recalling what I had done. 

What I had said. 

"Hey, none of that," she said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. Guilt pooled up in my chest, making my heart feel as if it were going to burst. I focused on my breathing, trying not to cry again. So many questions swirled around my head. 

But there was one I had to ask. 

"Was he lying? This whole time? About you?" I asked, my voice breaking. I saw her shoot Yelena a look before sitting on the bed beside me. 

"Well that depends, what did he tell you?"

I stared at her, recalling everything that Dreykov had ever told me about her. It wasn't hard. Since before I could remember I had always wanted to know everything I could about my mother, taking in every fact and piece of information about her that I could. 

"That uh, you were 17 when I was born?" I started. She smiled and nodded. 

"That's right." 

"That um, that we were separated when I was about 3?" I asked, watching her facial expressions. She looked down. 

"Yes. It was only 2 weeks after your 3rd birthday," she explained, biting her lower lip. I could tell she was trying not to cry. 

"That you made a deal with Dreykov, to trade me for your freedom from the Red Room?" I asked, pulling at a string on the thin blanket covering me. Natasha froze. I looked up, seeing that her face had fallen. I saw Yelena lay a hand on her shoulder gently.

"What? He- He said that to you? He told you that I traded you for my freedom?" She asked, her voice shaky. I raised an eyebrow and nodded my head. She closed her eyes, letting out a breath. She sat up and looked me in the eyes, taking my hand again. 

"I swear on my life, I never traded you. I would never had done that, ever. You were stolen from me." 

I watched her speak with more emotion that I had ever seen. I listened, taking in what she said. This time it was different though. Last time she told me I was taken I didn't believe it. 

This time I did. 

"I fought to keep you. From the moment I found out I was pregnant- until the day he found us I never stopped. Even after, I spent a year trying to find you again- He said you were dead, and I- I-" she stopped, looking down to the floor. I sat up, looking at Yelena. She frowned, her eyes bright with tears. I slowly and carefully slid myself to her side and leaned my head on her shoulder. She took me into her arms. 

"Losing you is my biggest regret, and the thing I'm most ashamed of," she told me in between sobs. I didn't know what to say. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," I apologized, nuzzling my face against her, allowing my own tears to fall. Even after everything, it felt right. She looked up and took my face in her hands.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I do. I'm so sorry I couldn't be the mother you needed- the one you deserved." 

"You were- you are," I said, looking into her eyes, "you said you fought for me. I believe you now." She smiled, wiping my tear-soaked face with the sleeve of her shirt. 

"Thank you," she said, pulling me back in. 

And while nothing else in my life made sense, this did.