The second the silhouette in the shadows comes into the light, Yelena wavers because— it’s Natasha. Impossibly, it’s her sister standing on the sidewalk in front of her, but that’s not- she can’t be.

“You are not real,” she snaps, but the words don’t have the proper amount of bite behind them. “You can’t be my sister…” her voice shakes, but her eyes have not moved from the woman in front of her, studying her for some sign that says it’s not her.

Or that it is.