The Widow's Daughter - A MCU Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty Two

*LILIYA POV*

I rolled over in the tiny hospital bed, instantly feeling my head pound. I sat up, squinting my eyes from the afternoon light. I opened my eyes slowly and looked around the room.

I was alone.

I assumed Natasha and Yelena had gone to get some lunch. I genuinely felt bad for home much time they were spending in this room. After all, it was my fault that I was in here. I sighed, dangling my legs over the side of the bed. My injured leg stung a bit from the movement, but was overall feeling much better.

"Whatcha doin kid?" A man walked in and asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs by my bed. I pulled my legs back up and cautiously sat straighter. The man seemed to notice my discomfort.

"Sorry sorry, I'm Tony, a friend of your mom's," he said, removing his shades and flashing a smile. This relaxed me a bit. I nodded, laying back into the mattress a bit.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, genuine concern on his face.

"Uh, felt better sir," I said, grabbing the small cup of water from my night stand and taking a sip. He smiled.

"I don't doubt it. Think you'd feel ready to come home with us? In the Avengers Compound?" He asked, taking a pin off of his suit jacket and fiddling with the back.

"I think so," I said, a nervous ache in my stomach. Tony replaced his shades and stood, offering me his hand. I took it, smiling.

"That's great to hear kid. We'd love to have ya there with us." He adjusted his shirt and started towards the door.

"See ya around miss Romanoff," he grinned, sliding around the corner and out of the room. He seemed like a nice man.

"Lili, you're up!" Yelena said excitedly as she came in the room.

"Stark wasn't too hard on you was he?" She asked, taking the seat closest to me and dropping a wrapped sub on my bed. I shook my head as she unwrapped her sandwich.

"Good," she winked. I don't know what it was about Yelena, but she somehow always seemed to make me feel better. There was this fun, energetic mood whenever she was here.

"Where's m- Natasha?" I asked, stopping myself from using the "mom" word. It felt natural, but it also felt too soon. I think Yelena noticed, but played it off.

"She's out with Steve, that tall hunk of muscle you met at the compound," she said between bites with a laugh. I grinned and nodded my head.

I'm glad she's happy.

"So, we haven't really been able to have some girl time have we? With Natasha lurking around at all hours," she remarked, wiping her face with a napkin.

"I guess we haven't," I said, unwrapping my lunch.

"Great. Anything you want to ask me? Without her here?" She asked, her eyes locked with mine. I sat silent for a moment, pondering her question.

"I hadn't really thought about it to be honest," I mumbled, finally getting the paper wrapping off my food. She nodded her head.

"I guess you've already had a lot on your mind huh?" She added.

"Kinda, yeah," I laughed. I took a bite of the sandwich, my hunger only just now fully realized.

"Did you know me? Before?" I asked. Yelena froze for a moment, sat her sandwich down, and leaned back, propping her feet on the edge of my bed.

"Nope. I knew about you, but never got to meet you." She explained. I nodded my head in understanding. I didn't want to make her elaborate since it seemed like a sore subject.

"Who- do you know- who's my dad?" I asked, curiosity overtaking my desire to be quiet. Yelena shook her head and shrugged.

"Nope. Had to be some young guard or someone Dreykov had working for him," she pondered out loud.

I had always pictured my father in my head. In my head he was the total opposite of Dreykov. I had seen pictures of my mom so I knew what she looked like, but my father's appearance had been left completely to my imagination.

In my head I had always pretended my dad was Tom Cruise. One time, when I was maybe 7, one of the older widows had stolen a magazine on one of her missions and was showing us pictures from inside. While they were giggling about something inside, I stared at the front cover. Tom was on the cover of this particular magazine, standing on a deserted looking road and wearing a dark grey tuxedo. Instantly, I pictured him as my father and have ever since.

"Sorry I don't have all the answers," Yelena apologized. I shook my head.

"No it's ok, really," I smiled, finishing up my lunch.

Even though we talked and talked about other things, that one question still stayed in the back of my mind.