Hell hath no fury like a Mother.

[Gaia]

Time was, in its inevitably cliché way, always ticking away.

How long had it been, this time? She counted the months and the weeks and the days, trying to reconcile them in her head. Nearly eleven months, Yelena mused, her steps slowing as the fact sunk in.

In fact, it stopped the woman in her tracks, standing in the middle of the Dvortsovaya Ploshchad. Thankful that it was a particularly late hour and that there was a minimum of people about, Lena knelt for a moment as if to check the strap of her stiletto.

Eleven months.

Deep cover assignments were inherently difficult, but made even more so when they took place where there was little news of the outside world. Golden hued eyes narrowed and her fingers stilled their fussing - there weren't even any newspapers delivered to the tiny village, that she could recall. She'd never lost track of time so badly even in a deep-cover situation. Awareness was the one thing that kept a good FSB agent alive.

Yelena took a deep breath before rising and setting her bag on her shoulder once more. It was dawning on her that she'd been kept away on purpose, but for a reason she couldn't yet fathom. Her husband should have some insight.

Of course, if she were a betting woman, she'd put everything on Dimitri being behind it. Her stilettos clicked a little bit faster as she continued through the square and towards home.

[Gaia]

There was something to be said for watching the pre-dawn light filter through the buildings of her home city. Even the seed of worry that gnawed at the back of her mind wasn't yet enough to take away the simple pleasure.

The closer however, she drew to the home she shared with her husband and her children, the seed split and grew into a seedling, vines of discomfort and worry ebbing and flowing through her senses. Blinking, she 'looked' properly at the trees and shrubs that were planted outside of the stately manors on their street. The closer to home, the worse their energy was.

And that did not bode well.

Anger welled up inside her, coiling like a viper ready to strike, that would only slither back to a state of calm once she knew her children were well. Vines, trees, flowers, and grasses all rustled in an unfelt wind, turning to lean towards her as she passed. Drawn to her familiar essence and roused out of their dormant state by the taste of her anger.

"Petrov, Maksim...good morning." Yelena said politely to the guards at the front gate, passing through as they opened it for her and noting the way they stayed back and refused to meet her gaze. Something was very wrong...they'd never acted so cowed before that she could recall.

Arching a brow as she approached the house, her eyes flicked to the security cameras that were now missing, and to the darkness that emanated from every window as if it had a life of its own. There wasn't a single light to be seen...not even the gentle golden glow that was always visible coming from the windows that were part of her daughter's bedroom.

Anger stepped aside for a moment and let fear take its place. Svetlana was still too young and her physiology too unstable to sleep without the lamps to replenish her energy. Yelena dropped her bag by the marble table in the high-ceilinged foyer and stepped over to the security system that beeped discreetly for her to enter her code.

Fingers rose and pressed the familiar sequence of numbers and letters, only to have them rejected...again she tried, and yet again they were rejected. Before she could even begin to think about why the code would have changed, she 'accidentally' removed a stiletto heel and stabbed it through the panel. A soft noise came from behind her, and she turned slowly after setting her shoe back on her foot.

From the staircase came a flurry of footsteps and a voice raised in anger. "Piotr! You are not permitted out of your room at night. How dare you not listen to me! Where do you think you're going?"

Yelena caught her son in her arms, the twelve-year old forgetting the pretense of being more grown up as he sobbed against her shoulder and said so much in a rush that she couldn't make sense of his words. Instead of trying, she simply held him tight and kissed into his hair, murmuring softly that she was home and everything would be alright.

Emerald energy glowed in her gaze as she pulled Piotr tightly against her and 'asked' the ivy on the trellis nearby to flip on the lights. A vine shot out immediately, writhing across the wall to curl around and pull up the switch as Dimitri came barreling around the corner.

"Ahh. There you are, my love. Welcome home..." he rumbled, a patently false smile on his lips as he opened his arms and tried to control his tone, walking towards them.

Turning slightly, Yelena let go of Piotr long enough to push him behind her, his arms looping around her waist like a vise. "Not. Another. Step." she snapped precisely, a ripple of energy sliding out from her and seeping into the walls and floors. There were several large potted ivy plants that rippled and grew, vines reaching towards her and shuddering as her energy passed through them.

"I find it very strange, Dmitri, to come home to a dark house. To guards at the gate who are cowed and fearful, refusing to meet my gaze. Stranger still, my security code for the house system has been changed. And now this? What in the name of God have you done to our son? And where is Svetlana?" Yelena's voice remained calm and even, though the emerald energy radiating from her in waves was shot through with anger, and the ivy plants that had now quadrupled in size writhed and rustled with thick, powerful vines.

The artifice fell away from his face and his posture, bringing out the sullen, angry brute that had always been there, she noted. But the brief glimpses she'd seen of him like this before had been so few and far betwe-

-no, they hadn't been. Yelena had just been too blinded by guilt and grief to truly know.

"I have done nothing to the stupid boy...he does nothing but break the rules we set for him. Out of his bed at all hours, refusing to eat what is given to him, speaking of spirits and the dead when I strictly forbid him to use his gift." Dmitri snarled as he rolled his eyes, crossing powerful arms over his chest as he fixed his glare on her.

As if that would work. On her.

"My son is not stupid, and there is nothing on this earth that would make me believe that is true. What you have described is simply fearful behavior. If your tirade moments ago is any indication, his fear is well-placed. You were never like this before, Dmitri. Not to Piotr." She tilted her head slightly as she maneuvered her son forward a little to be able to speak to him. "Where is your sister, my angel? I could not see the lights in her room from outside...has something...happened?"

Piotr nodded and shrank back out of his father's line of sight before he managed to stammer an answer. "Papa...sent her away. To Los Angeles. By herself, with only Sergei and Natasha. I'm n-n-not allowed to talk to her on the phone. No one is. Papa only yells at her when she calls and t-tells her she's a disappointment. And...and that if he had a choice, he wouldn't have chosen her for a d-daughter."

"Shh...its alright, love. Its alright. I'm here now, and I will make it better. Can you do something for me? Can you? Good...I need you to go upstairs and go right to your room. And I need you to promise me that you won't come out until I come and give you our secret password, alright? Can you do that for mama? Go, love." She smiled softly and kissed his head once more as he darted off, giving his father as wide a berth as possible.

Her hands came to rest on her hips as she let go of her grip on her energy and let it flow, even as his own stance changed and his eyes shifted from chestnut to flat black. "You and I, Dmitri...are going to have a little talk."

[Gaia]

There wasn't much left standing by the time she gained the upper hand.

She could barely be qualified as upright, never mind standing. Were it not for the supple roots that had wound themselves around her to staunch her bleeding, she wouldn't be on her own two feet.

As bad as Yelena looked, however, her battered features were set in a grim but still satisfied smile.


Dimitri lay sprawled out across the once cream and pearl colored mosaic of the dining room floor. Once firm, tanned flesh was split open in dozens of places like something out of a horror movie, with vines, thorns, and thick roots emanating from each. She lifted shaking fingertips to touch her swollen lip and winced as it throbbed with pain. In response, the vines and roots pinning him to the floor tightened and made the wounds gape further open.

His lips parted, a bloody froth bubbling up as he tried to speak. Making her way over she dropped to her knees beside his head and tilted his head back in a tender gesture.The cypress tree root that pressed against his chest eased up slightly at the gentle touch of her mind. Dimitri wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"It didn't have to come to this." Yelena said, exhaustion and pain making her words sluggish.

"Would have...sooner...but...Lana...didn't die...two years...ago..." Dimitri managed to force out as his lungs filled with blood and it came trickling out of his mouth and nose.

She had suspected, at the time, that the illness that had nearly killed Lana at school had been a deliberate poisoning. But there hadn't been any proof. If Yelena had anything more than her suspicion at the time...if only...

But Lana had lived, though it had nearly tapped Yelena's every last ounce of life-force to save her.

"I should have gone to New York. To Hektor." she murmured, her gaze unfocused as if she'd forgotten where she was and gotten lost in a memory.

Glancing down, she lifted her hand and pressed it to Dimitri's startled face, covering his mouth and nose. The massive root across his chest reared up as if it were a snake ready to strike, swaying slightly side to side as if caught up in a breeze.

"My apologies, Dimitri...did I never tell you that Saladin is Lana's father? What is it the children say these days? Ahhh yes. Oopsie."

With the last vestige of energy he had, his head moved a bit and he gurgled until she tightened her grip. The sounds were replaced by shattering bones and tearing flesh as the root struck and impaled itself into his chest. What blood remained sprayed out in every direction at the violation, drenching her completely.

Yelena sat there unmoving for several moments, while the emerald glow of her power intensified and enveloped her like a second skin. Her own wounds slowly knit themselves closed as the glow began to dim, and gave her enough to get to her feet. She stepped back as a fissure split open the foundation and the floor beneath Dimitri's body, a massive, gnarled, and ancient looking root dragging the lifeless body down deep into the earth before the fissure rumbled closed.

She would have to thank the ancient oak before she left, but for now, she needed to see Piotr and rest before she collapsed. Behind her, as she ascended the stairs, her beloved ivy plants were overtaking the dining room, covering every surface and sending roots into the walls and anchors into the mosaic tile of the floor.