not even the stars are safe in the sky

for a home that she can’t go back to, for a family that she no longer has, for a life she could have had if her innocence wasn’t ripped away from her. she knows that these aren’t realistic things to long for so for now she’ll settle on finding people who can accept her for who she was and is, and calling them a family. 

on paper, their friendship, if you could even call it that, didn’t make much sense; it was a strange concept at first glance but the closer you looked at it, the more it made sense. if anyone was to understand the things that elektra went through, it was going to be bucky barnes. both of them had been dealt an unfortunate hand of cards and trying to deal with the aftermath of it; one maybe dealing better than the other, at least that’s what it seemed on the surface. with bucky, she didn’t have to pretend (as much) or keep her guards up as high. “you know, that’s one thing i missed about new york; you can’t get pizza like this anywhere else. the italian government would probably destroy my villa if they ever heard me say that.”

elektra’s point has just been proven with that reaction and there was a part of her that was slightly jealous of her bright, spunky personality. whatever life experiences she had hadn’t made her bitter and cruel, unlike it had with elektra. she just hoped that it would remain that way for her. “high school drama doesn’t count as real-life experience but fine, if you wanna spar then let’s go. don’t think i’ll go easy on you just because you’re a kid.”

"i forgot how much i hate the new york weather. it’s definitely not the french riviera.” she’s been hopping from one country to another, never staying long enough to see all four seasons in one single country. elektra’s forgotten how bitter and cold (and lonely) winters in the city can be. “thanks for the heads up. you definitely helped save an expensive pair of shoes. i suppose that’s what i get for wearing $500 shoes in new york though.”

elektra's on the phone, firing away in rapid french as she’s speaking to one of her property managers, and clearly distracted as she doesn’t hear the warning until her arm is being grabbed. her first instinct is to throw a punch until she realises they were trying to help her. “thanks.” she brushes her hair out of her face and hangs up the phone. her eyebrow quirks up as she looks around her, “i don’t remember the forecast predicting ice this week. isn’t it spring already?”

not a substance, but elektra’s somewhat addicted to violence. it’s something that’s been a part of her since she was young, from the moment that her mother was murdered on that yacht, and it’s the only thing that she knows she can rely on. it’s like her comfort blanket but she’s trying to wean herself from it to prove that she is more than a weapon, more than someone’s assassin. 

she had to admit it had been a while since she had spoken much french herself, and even longer since she had practised any greek. the last time she had probably ever spoken any was the last time she saw her father on that day. “well, if you need someone to practise with you can always come find me.” she hums as she studies the painting carefully, “is that so? i’m afraid my tutors didn’t teach me that in art history. or maybe they did and i just stopped listening.” there’s something about what remy had just said that almost sounds like a challenge to elektra. she almost wants to steal the painting and replace it with a fake just to see how long it’ll take them to figure out it had been replaced with a replica. 

she hesitates for a moment as she studies him, glancing up and down. elektra wasn’t one to work in teams and if she had learnt anything from her past mistakes, she knew she wasn’t the best leader. it was just easier for her to work alone (that way when people get hurt, she won’t have to spend all night blaming herself those mistakes). but she had a feeling he wasn’t going to back down just because she said no. “i am also very capable of cleaning up my own messes. isn’t it past your bedtime or something?” he looks young but elektra knows that she was far more capable than most when she was probably younger than he is. “if you must stay, just don’t blow our cover, and if you get hurt, that’s on you.”

"darling, you don’t want to test me. i’ve made much bigger men cry for their mothers as they wish for a faster, less painful death.” elektra’s not proud of what she’s done in the past but she knows she can’t change it. her hands will forever be stained red and no amount of praying for forgiveness can cleanse them. “but lucky for you, children aren’t on my list of people to hurt.”

"so you’re the new captain, huh? i have to say, you look even better in person.” elektra’s deflecting, trying to avoid the subject of the actual reason she’s sat across from sam. it feels so sterile, so unnatural for her to unload her emotions on a stranger that she had met a handful of times. even if she could, she wouldn’t even know where to start or how much she could actually detail and still have him be able to look her straight in the eyes without a speck of horror. some days she can’t even bear to look at her own reflection without seeing erynys or herself as anything but the puppet for the hand. it’s hard for elektra to remember who is truly is, before all this, before she was filled with such hatred that consumed every innocence that she had ever had. but there had been someone who had once believed she could be good before and maybe that still was true. 

elektra hears the voice before she sees him. how can she not? it disturbs her silence on the rooftop as she watches the city zooming by below, waiting for something interesting to happen. was this what it felt like to be one of the good guys? just sitting and waiting to bust someone for some crime. she had never sat still in one place for very long; moving from place to place, following wherever her job took her. she looks up from her post to the source of the voice, “you talk too much.” it didn’t seem as though her hint was enough and she sighs as she wonders why she had to choose this particular rooftop today. “how about going up north instead?”

elektra probably could afford a gym better than this one that she picked but they all seemed to lack some character and filled with old, rich men who liked to ogle and underestimate her abilities. while she did enjoy kicking their asses, she had no patience for that today and just wanted to work her frustrations out. “darling, why would i want any of your stuff? i just need a locker,” she replies nonchalantly as she throws their bag down by their feet and puts her stuff in the locker that was previously occupied. elektra glances up as she’s in the middle of wrapping her hands for her sparring session, still feeling the other person’s presence, “you should really invest in a better lock.”  

"c'est plutôt paisible (transl: it’s rather peaceful),” elektra muses, slipping into french that glides off her tongue, as she takes in the painting. “some would say it’s overrated. i find it rather peaceful.” there’s something about the painting that resonates with her and almost reminds her of nights she’s spent on rooftops alone, watching the stars as the night goes by. “i’ve heard it’s estimated that half of the world’s art are fakes. makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” her mouth quirks up as she watches how close the person next to her was getting to the painting. she’s in no position to judge, and no one was really getting harmed. 

the night's quiet as elektra’s perched on the roof of a building, carefully watching the group of men below, finding the right moment to attack. she stiffens at the sound of movement nearby and spins around, sais in her hand, ready to pounce. “didn’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on a lady?” he looked like he was just a kid, and he definitely had no business sticking his nose where it shouldn’t belong. she wasn’t going to let this kid blow her cover and she certainly wasn’t going to be his babysitter. “ leave, before things get messy.” 

being back in new york city felt peculiar to elektra; the city looked different to what she remembered but it still felt the same to her, she still felt the demons and shadows that she had tried running from but something always brought her back one way or  another. this was her destiny and if elektra had learnt anything, you cannot run from destiny. she hears someone calling for her attention and she nearly carries on minding her own business, it’s probably just another crazy new yorker but then she wonders what if that person was in real trouble. “a cat?” she repeats, drawling out the words, “that sounds more like a mountain lion that a cat. have you tried the bronx zoo?”