If there's one constant truth, it's that Alexei Shostakov is not doing alright. Not one bit. Adjusting to society after twenty years in prison had already been tough enough. Hunting down other Widows to free from the Red Room's control had also been tough, in a completely different way. Trying to navigate what was going on between him and Melina- if anything- had been a third tough thing. Then came that fourth thing in the form of turning to dust, losing more than five years as the world proceeded without him, then coming back to existence to absolute chaos. That was the final straw, really. That, and losing Natasha.
He found a home in America and spends most of his days watching TV, absorbing that very same culture he'd feigned to be part of in the 90s. His job just barely pays enough to cover the bills. When one has fallen so far, even getting out of bed in the morning is a chore, but he's no quitter. He keeps going, because there's still one person left of their little family who pays visits every so often. He can't let Yelena down.
Those visits are hard to predict, though. Right now, he's wrapped up deeply in a Seinfeld marathon (good, harmless, American fun), while trying to clumsily eat some leftover noodles straight from the take-out box. Red Guardian, ladies and gentlemen!
Yelena has been... lost since coming back from nothingness. Five years passed her by in a matter of seconds. It wasn't easy to put together. Worse still was realizing that she had missed her own sister's death. She was intent on taking out the man said to be responsible, and she almost had, until he had known that whistle. It took every ounce of wind left in her sails and it was the moment she realized she could not trust Valentina.
Saving the other Widows was at least a purpose to work toward, but the ones left had proven impossible to find, already dead, or they had saved already. Watching them wake up never got any easier, either. She dreams of it, and of the things she had done under Drekyov's intense control after Natasha had defected.
Her family barely exists now; Natasha is gone, Yelena isn't even sure where Melina is, and her father... well. At least she can still drop in on him from time to time, yes?
She doesn't bother knocking, instead she simply picks the locks on his door and slips inside. Perhaps not the smartest move, but... he is old, and not near as spry as he once ways, so even if he tries to attack her for catching him off-guard, she does not doubt her ability to dodge it. "Hi, dad..." she says from behind the couch before she moves around it to sink down onto it next to him.
Alexei's so absorbed in what's happening on TV (ha ha, he does not want to wear the puffy shirt but he has already agreed to do it), he doesn't hear the picking of the lock, nor does he hear the opening and closing of the door. He thinks he hears the creak of a floorboard right as some noodles slip from his fork, back into the takeout box. Before he can turn around, though, Yelena has already spoken up and he starts in his seat. His head turns so fast it leaves him in danger of spraining a muscle or two.
"Yelena! You did not tell me you were coming...!" he says, his voice louder than usual from surprise and just a sprinkling of embarrassment. His house is pretty messy right now and the noodles... Well, he'll set them down on the table with one swift motion, hoping they won't be questioned.
"I didn't know I was coming," she says, her voice flat. She doesn't care about the mess or the noodles- things she would surely call him out on any other time. It's obvious she's not in a typical mood.
She slips her shoes off and scoots them under the table, out of the way, and wraps her arms around her legs as she hugs them to her chest. She looks so small and so much younger than she really is when she does things like this. Maybe it's habit, in a way, old automatic actions she falls into around him because of the dynamic she remembers from Ohio.
"What are you watching?" she asks, not really interested in the answer, but needing to break the silence.
Alexei recognizes the gesture. Even so many years later, he can still vividly picture a young girl doing the same thing when she was upset. She was so much smaller back then, so much frailer. Still, some things never change, and that includes Alexei's desire to cheer her back up. He sits back on the couch again, leaving the box of noodles where it is on the table. He won't ask what's bothering her; that's not really his style. If she wants to talk, she'll talk, and until then, he'll distract her with other things.
"Jerry Seinfeld. Famous American comedian. We would watch this sometimes, in Ohio. Do you remember?"
Not that Alexei watched it in quite the same light back then. 'Ridiculous Western propaganda', that was what he'd thought. Nowadays, sentiments like that have lost their meaning.
He doesn't ask, and she doesn't volunteer any information. She barely knows how to put what she's feeling into words if she's completely honest with herself. Maybe if she doesn't think about it very hard, it will come to her. It works for some things, like when she loses a pen, and it seems to appear from nowhere as soon as she stops looking for it.
"What is it even about? What does the funny man do?" her eyes are on the tv screen, but she's barely taking any of it in. "Maybe... I think I remember the weird one, with the hair that looks like he was shocked by electricity."
"Yes! Kramer," he says, hoping that will jog her memory further. "He is the funniest one. Always sliding into apartment unexpected, taking food from Jerry's fridge... And he does not work. He never works. Only gets up to shady moneymaking schemes. They say Seinfeld is a show about nothing, but there is a lot happening. Very good commentary on petty American society."
Truly, he is sophisticated for watching this series. There are layers there to peel away. But more importantly, it makes him smile, and there are days where he needs that smile. Maybe it'll make Yelena smile too. He hopes so.
She hums a soft, noncommittal noise and nods a little. She still doesn’t remember it, not really, but it doesn’t matter. She does remember all of them piled in the living room watching tv together. This living room feels fairly empty in comparison, though.
For a few minutes, she just sits there with him and watches the tv show she is not actually paying attention to. Maybe if she tries hard enough, it could feel more like it did in Ohio. Maybe Mom and Natasha are just simply… picking up things for dinner at the store. It was easier for Melina to take their oldest daughter for things like that, let Alexei wrangle the little one for a little bit, instead.
But she can’t lie that well to herself; Natasha is gone. Melina is… wherever she is these days. It’s just the two of them on a couch in a messy flat, alone.
She shifts until she’s pressed against her father’s side, pushing until he takes the hint to loop his arm around her shoulders so she can hide her face against him. Hot tears well up in her eyes and spill against his shirt, but she doesn’t sob, she doesn’t make a sound at all. And maybe that makes it all the worse.
Back when they were all in Ohio together, Alexei had always been feeling restless. He would insist, over and over, that Dreykov had chosen the wrong person for the job. That he should've been out in the field. What good is a super soldier when he just sits around a house all day, pretending to be American? What he hadn't realized back then, but knows all too well now, is that his priorities had been wrong. The only good that had come from being associated with the Red Room had been the Ohio mission, and those are years he can never get back. Neither of them can. Sitting here now with Yelena is the closest thing to it, even if it is just a pale imitation. A faint echo of a makeshift family.
When she presses up against him, it takes him by surprise, but he does understand the request just fine. It's because he understands the request that he's surprised in the first place. His arm settles around her shoulders to pull her against his chest and he assumes that to be the end of it, but... now his shirt is getting wet.
It takes him a long moment of debating (is this bear poking?) before he decides to throw the question out there: "Did something happen?"
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zvi
/cracks open the headcanon can
Date: 2025-01-13 07:09 pm (UTC)He found a home in America and spends most of his days watching TV, absorbing that very same culture he'd feigned to be part of in the 90s. His job just barely pays enough to cover the bills. When one has fallen so far, even getting out of bed in the morning is a chore, but he's no quitter. He keeps going, because there's still one person left of their little family who pays visits every so often. He can't let Yelena down.
Those visits are hard to predict, though. Right now, he's wrapped up deeply in a Seinfeld marathon (good, harmless, American fun), while trying to clumsily eat some leftover noodles straight from the take-out box. Red Guardian, ladies and gentlemen!
no subject
Date: 2025-01-15 07:27 am (UTC)Saving the other Widows was at least a purpose to work toward, but the ones left had proven impossible to find, already dead, or they had saved already. Watching them wake up never got any easier, either. She dreams of it, and of the things she had done under Drekyov's intense control after Natasha had defected.
Her family barely exists now; Natasha is gone, Yelena isn't even sure where Melina is, and her father... well. At least she can still drop in on him from time to time, yes?
She doesn't bother knocking, instead she simply picks the locks on his door and slips inside. Perhaps not the smartest move, but... he is old, and not near as spry as he once ways, so even if he tries to attack her for catching him off-guard, she does not doubt her ability to dodge it. "Hi, dad..." she says from behind the couch before she moves around it to sink down onto it next to him.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-15 09:08 pm (UTC)"Yelena! You did not tell me you were coming...!" he says, his voice louder than usual from surprise and just a sprinkling of embarrassment. His house is pretty messy right now and the noodles... Well, he'll set them down on the table with one swift motion, hoping they won't be questioned.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-16 06:43 am (UTC)She slips her shoes off and scoots them under the table, out of the way, and wraps her arms around her legs as she hugs them to her chest. She looks so small and so much younger than she really is when she does things like this. Maybe it's habit, in a way, old automatic actions she falls into around him because of the dynamic she remembers from Ohio.
"What are you watching?" she asks, not really interested in the answer, but needing to break the silence.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-16 01:56 pm (UTC)"Jerry Seinfeld. Famous American comedian. We would watch this sometimes, in Ohio. Do you remember?"
Not that Alexei watched it in quite the same light back then. 'Ridiculous Western propaganda', that was what he'd thought. Nowadays, sentiments like that have lost their meaning.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-16 02:39 pm (UTC)"What is it even about? What does the funny man do?" her eyes are on the tv screen, but she's barely taking any of it in. "Maybe... I think I remember the weird one, with the hair that looks like he was shocked by electricity."
no subject
Date: 2025-01-18 09:23 pm (UTC)Truly, he is sophisticated for watching this series. There are layers there to peel away. But more importantly, it makes him smile, and there are days where he needs that smile. Maybe it'll make Yelena smile too. He hopes so.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-20 06:20 pm (UTC)For a few minutes, she just sits there with him and watches the tv show she is not actually paying attention to. Maybe if she tries hard enough, it could feel more like it did in Ohio. Maybe Mom and Natasha are just simply… picking up things for dinner at the store. It was easier for Melina to take their oldest daughter for things like that, let Alexei wrangle the little one for a little bit, instead.
But she can’t lie that well to herself; Natasha is gone. Melina is… wherever she is these days. It’s just the two of them on a couch in a messy flat, alone.
She shifts until she’s pressed against her father’s side, pushing until he takes the hint to loop his arm around her shoulders so she can hide her face against him. Hot tears well up in her eyes and spill against his shirt, but she doesn’t sob, she doesn’t make a sound at all. And maybe that makes it all the worse.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-31 11:36 am (UTC)When she presses up against him, it takes him by surprise, but he does understand the request just fine. It's because he understands the request that he's surprised in the first place. His arm settles around her shoulders to pull her against his chest and he assumes that to be the end of it, but... now his shirt is getting wet.
It takes him a long moment of debating (is this bear poking?) before he decides to throw the question out there: "Did something happen?"