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Chapter Text

The vibranium man set her down on the concrete deck of the flying airbase like a child that needed help getting her footing. His hands tried to hover near her as though afraid she might stumble. Wanda ignored him. She'd gotten her sea legs soon after the procedures.

"Where is he?"

The man in the blue uniform stopped when he saw her. Soot and sweat streaked his tired face.

"Wanda-"

"Where?"

His eyes flicked down to her hands. The mist must have been growing in her palms. She didn't care enough to suppress it.

"Miss- I'm so sorry. I am. But-"

"I know. Where?"

He looked down at her with sad, old eyes. Wanda supposed he was handsome, but he reminded her of her grandfather when he remembered things he wished he didn't. "Miss Maximoff, maybe you should sit."

"I will sit when you take me to my brother."

"Wanda, your brother-"

"I told you. I know. Do not make me force you to take me to him."

He hesitated, but nodded. Wanda was glad. She didn't want to have to turn her powers back against them now after everything. The crowd of people on the deck parted to make room for him and she followed in his wake.

She recognized people from the city and it made her feel sick. The butcher that had cuffed her on the head when she tried to take some chicken one winter had a bloody temple. The connection almost forced a wild laugh from her throat.

The man in front of her stopped and turned.

"Miss-"

Wanda brushed him aside. She didn't know if she used her mist or not.

~

"Where is Pietro?"

"You know he's in time-out, Wanda."

"I'll go in time-out too."

"Wanda..."

She stuck out her chin at the babysitter their parents had hired for the evening. "Why is Pietro in time-out?"

"He tried shaving Mr. Hipsagh's cat."

"No he didn't."

"So Pietro's arms being covered in scratches and Mr. Hipsagh's cat having a bald bum are a coincidence, are they?"

Wanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. The sitter was a silly girl who spent most of her time watching television while the twins entertained themselves. Not that they minded much. But it certainly didn't give her the authority to put them in time-out.

"Pietro didn't shave Dada, I did. Pietro held her still. But she got away."

The sitter groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Wanda... why did you do that?"

Wanda shrugged.

"Wanda..."

"Pietro was worried about her."

"So you shaved her bum?"

Wanda rolled her eyes again and tapped her toe against the kitchen floor. "Yes. Pietro was worried. It's so hot. He thought it's not good for her to wear all that fur."

The sitter groaned and grabbed Wanda by the arm, leading her from the kitchen towards their parents' bedroom.

"What are you doing?"

"You're going in time-out."

"With Pietro?"

"No."

~

They laid him out separate from the other dead and Wanda even allowed herself to be grateful. She didn't think she could bear to find him zipped up in a bag next to 40 others.

Wanda didn't know what was worse, feeling it as it happened, or seeing the aftermath. She had felt each bullet individually. She couldn't see each and every wound now though. A mess of red seeping across his shirt joined each wound so that his clothes matched hers. Pietro hated red. He was vain and it washed him out. Wanda teased him about it mercilessly- tossing her jacket at him to hold wherever he sidled up to someone at a club. Now, she could just pretend it was the color of his shirt that made him look so white.

"Kid..."

Wanda paused where she was, standing over him. On the bench next to Pietro, the American with the bow was laid out, pale and sweating.

"You hurt?" His voice was dry and cracked, like he'd inhaled half the concrete dust of the city.

"No."

"Good. That's- that's good."

The mist was growing in her palms as she looked at him. She saw his eyes flick down and he started to sit up.

"Hey- none of that, Kid. I'm serious-"

Wanda put him to sleep. She'd apologize later. It was good for him anyway. She stepped around and sat on the ground. She gently lifted Pietro's head and laid it in her lap. He felt heavier than he should. Wanda knew it. She knew how he should feel in her hands. She knew the face below her better than her own. How many times had they sat like this? Him unable to sleep, at first for anxiety and fear- he had always been anxious- later, for the chemicals running through his veins that made his body vibrate and shiver, even when he tried to sleep.

Wanda swallowed hard and brushed his hair back.

"Szerelem, szerelem..."

~

The bed was collapsing onto them. Pietro was trying to keep the worst of the boxspring off of her, but he was shaking.

"Pietro-" she whispered into his shoulder. "We have to go-"

"No! We can't-"

There was another crash and the wall opposite them caved in. Pietro let out a cry and pulled her tight to him. When the dust and rubble finally settled, Wanda tried to pull her face from her brother's shoulder.

"Pietro? Pietro! Are you okay-"

"Sh- Wanda, don't move!"

She twisted her neck, trying to see what was left of their apartment. It didn't look like inside. It looked like the set of the space movies she always made the family watch. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. Pieces of the building and their furniture littered the floor. And between a lump of sheetrock and the tubes of their television set was a bomb.

Wanda had seen enough movies to know what a bomb looked like. Even at ten, she was surprised it didn't look much different than the ones on television. It even had a label, like you might be able to buy it in a store. As though someone would see the brand and want one of their own.

"Don't. Move."

"Pietro..." She gripped his shirt harder, her eyes locked on the explosive. "Why hasn't it gone off?"

"I don't know. It still might."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know."

"Pietro-"

"I don't know!" His voice was cracking and Wanda could feel his breath coming faster and faster. "Wanda- I don't-"

"No- It's okay, Pietro. We will be okay. I promise."

"How?"

"It just will be. Do I break my promises?"

"No. Never."

Somehow, the radio in the kitchen was still playing. Their father always listened to the radio while he cooked. Wanda had been helping him with the paprikash. Pietro was too impatient for cooking. He always spilled something or burned himself. Wanda was proud that she could be trusted with something her twin couldn't handle. Not that she would ever let him know, but she liked feeling capable- like she could take care of Pietro and their parents if she needed to. All she needed to learn was a few recipes and she could do everything grownups needed to.

"Szerelem, Szerelem. Átkozott gyötrelem..."

"I hate this song."

"Me too."

~

"Mért nem virágoztál
Minden fa teteje?"

Her hands were shaking as she combed her fingers through his hair. Her face was twisted hard enough to hurt. Her throat was tight and swollen. She couldn't cry. The scream she'd let out in the church was the best she could manage. She hadn't cried under the bed in the apartment either. Pietro had. She'd tried to distract him, but as they waited for the explosions in the city to fade away, he'd started to shake.

He shouldn't feel this heavy. Wanda couldn't focus on anything else. She just wanted him to be the way he always was. There was something very wrong and perverse about him feeling so heavy. Warm and solid, Wanda almost though he could float somehow. Maybe his energy had expended from vibrating to floating. But not anymore.

"Mer' én is szakísztottam,
El is szalasztottam,"

There was no one left around them. Wanda wondered if she'd done it or someone else had moved the civilians to a different area. Maybe they had arrived at their destination. They couldn't though- she wasn't done. She couldn't leave. He was still too heavy.

Wanda's voice was cracking on the words of the song. She had a weak singing voice. Always had. She had always wanted to be able to sing like their mother, but she couldn't force herself to enjoy even the attempt when her voice was so tremulous. Pietro couldn't sing either. But he did. Constantly. He'd struggled when they first started learning English, until he started practicing with his favorite American music. Wanda had pretended to be annoyed, but it had been nice. They hadn't had anything to sing about in so long, she'd been warmed every time he mumbled his way through a verse of a popular dance tune.

Her voice wasn't just warbling, but hoarse now. Wanda had no air left in her lungs to sing. She was trying so hard to keep his head up, but he was still too heavy.

"...Régi szeretőmre."

Her throat felt so tight because there was a scream building in it again. The first one had torn out like an animal in her lungs waking up with claws and teeth after hibernation. This one was building like an avalanche in reverse. It trickled up from somewhere in the bottom of her stomach and collected horror and grief from her veins until it gained enough energy and speed to level a city.

Her voice was almost gone. She needed him to not feel so heavy anymore. She needed him to shake and shiver and sing and float.

"Tengerből a vizet,
Kanállal lemerném."

The words were slurred and broken. She likely just sounded like she was wailing now. Wanda couldn't bear the weight of his head on her lap anymore. She pulled him to her chest, trying to pull him up, up and floating.

"S a tenger fenekéről,
Apró gyöngyöt szednék,
S a régi szeretőmnek,
Gyöngykoszorút kötnék."

The tears came fast once she was finished. Wanda kept trying to pull Pietro closer to her, lift more of him up. But he was so slick with blood and so very heavy.

~

"Where will we go?" she whispered across the space between their beds at the orphanage. They'd tried to put them in different dormitories, but they'd snuck out and slept in the halls on the floor rather than be apart. "They'll give us to different families. I won't go."

"I don't know, Wanda. I don't know what we're supposed to do."

Wanda stuck out her hand. "Pietro. Don't cry. They'll never catch us. We'll live on our own."

He took her hand. "I'm not crying."

"Yes you were."

"Was not."

He was still sniffling. Wanda sighed.

"It's gunna be okay. I promise, Pietro. I'll find us food. We can do this."

"How?"

"I'll figure it out. We'll figure it out."

Chapter Text

In all honesty, she didn't remember much after the helicarrier landed. Whole weeks went by in a dull grey haze. Later, Captain Rogers told her that there had been a burial and memorial ceremony, but no one could get her out of bed. She didn't remember this. She only remembered waking up starving in a grey dormitory-style room in the new Avengers headquarters. She left the room and wandered down the hall in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt she found on a chair in the room.

There were voices coming from one end of the hall and she followed them. The Black Widow and Captain Rogers were talking in a clean, chrome kitchenette. They both looked up the moment she entered the room.

"Miss Maximoff," Rogers looked surprised and cautious. "You're awake."

She ignored him and crossed to the refrigerator. She stared inside, not seeing anything.

"Are you hungry?"

She nodded, but stayed where she was. Someone cleared their throat at her elbow and a gentle hand touched her arm, leading her away from the fridge and guiding her to sit on a chair at the counter. She sat, and before long, there was a bowl of soup in front of her. She was almost finished with it when two pieces of toasted bread joined the bowl. When she was finished, she was still hungry, but the concept of asking for more food or getting it herself was far too daunting.

"Full?"

She shook her head.

"Too bad. That's all you're getting."

"Nat-"

"She'll throw up if she eats too much. Her stomach has shrunk by now."

Wanda waited for the two voices to finish arguing. It seemed bizarre to even hear speech. She couldn't manage to form words.

"Wanda? Miss Maximoff?"

The name sounded tripping and nasal on the captain's tongue. She looked up at him as permission to proceed.

"What would you like to do?"

Wanda blinked at him, trying to process the question. When she didn't answer for what felt like years, he pulled up a forced smile.

"We can talk business later. Take things as slow as you like."

Wanda felt her face twist at the word "business," but nodded. It was a long while before she realized that both the captain and the woman had gone. Things were no longer hazed, but time didn't move as it normally did. She felt like she was only sitting for a few minutes, but before long, she shifted and felt her thighs tingle and ache from the circulation rushing back to them.

"Here."

The red haired widow woman was back, sliding a sheet of paper across the counter to her. Wanda straightened it and read the words. Everything seemed foreign and she wondered if she'd lost the ability to read English. "Iowa," "Buffalo to De Moines," "Crystal Lake."

"Bus stop is on the end of the road to the north," the older woman explained in a dull, bored voice. "Once you arrive, go north for a mile. It's the first driveway on the left." When Wanda only stared back at her, she sighed. "I wrote all that on the back of the ticket. Bus leaves in an hour. You're welcome."

~

It was a farm house ten miles outside of a small town. The woman that answered the door was a pretty brunette and very pregnant. She took in Wanda's disheveled appearance with a look of confusion. Wanda didn't know the last time she had bathed.

"Yes?"

"I- I am-" her voice broke and cracked from disuse. "I come- I took bus. From- from-"

Something about her words, or perhaps her accent, made the woman's look soften to one of sympathy.

"Come in, please. Are you hungry?"

Wanda nodded and followed her into the house. She tried to remember the last time she was in a home- not just a place where people ate and slept, but a home. It had to have been the day of the bombings. Thirteen years. The rope rug felt too soft under her boots and she took them off.

"Make yourself at home, please," the woman was trying to smile at her. It looked like hard work. "Clint is out walking with the kids, but they'll be back soon."

Clint. Who was Clint. She tried to sort through all the names she had heard the Avengers use around each other.

"The archer?"

The woman's smile relaxed a few degrees into a more genuine expression. "Yes, that's right. the archer."

Wanda nodded. "This is good."

"Please sit down. You look very tired."

Wanda obeyed, sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. She definitely hadn't sat at one of these since there first shell hit. It was lower than the one in the apartment. Granted, Wanda had grown. But she was sure it was not this much.

"Here," the woman set a plate of eggs and sausages in front of her.

Wanda stared at the food.

"I'm sorry- do you not eat meat?"

Wanda shook her head, then nodded, unsure how to answer. "Meat is- is good. Thank."

"You're welcome. I'm just going to do some dishes, alright? I'll be right here if you need me, honey."

Wanda started to eat. The eggs tasted strange and foreign. How could they change the way eggs tasted? Everything tasted different in America. It smelled different. Metallic. Like iron. Or blood.

Wanda rushed out the door and barely made it to the edge of the porch before she threw up. When she looked up, there were three faces staring at her from the path.

"Kids, come inside," the woman's voice called softly from the door behind her.

The two children bolted past Wanda on their way inside, wide-eyed and whispering to each other.

"Who's that?"

"She puke."

"Go play downstairs. I'll bring you some cookies in a little while."

Wanda stayed where she was on her knees, staring back at the archer named Clint.

"You look disgusting, kid."

"Clint..."

"Well, she does." He kicked off his boots on the porch. "Can you help her get cleaned up, Laura?"

"Come on, honey. We'll get you in a nice hot bath."

There was a hand on her shoulder. Wanda shrugged it away, still staring at the archer. He gave her a look, like he hadn't quite decided how to treat her yet. When neither of them spoke after at least a minute, Wanda got to her feet and followed the woman inside and up the stairs. She stood still while the woman filled a bath, and when it seemed she wouldn't move of her own accord, she helped Wanda out of her clothes and into the claw-footed tub. Wanda let her, and didn't even react when the woman began hesitantly washing her like a child.

"You have beautiful hair," she commented softly as she blocked the water she was pouring over Wanda's head with a steady hand, keeping it from reaching her eyes. "How long have you been growing it out?"

"Ten. Ten years." She was whispering. She could still hear the sound of the scissors cutting, hear Pietro asking repeatedly if she was sure, still sniffling because it was his fault.

"You're very patient. I could never take care of hair this long." When she was finished washing, she started to drain the tub and towel Wanda's hair dry. "Clint said your name is Wanda. That's a lovely name."

"Who- who are you?" It was a pathetic attempt at polite conversation, but the woman took it in stride.

"My name is Laura. I'm Clint's wife."

She helped Wanda into a plush robe with little cats on it. Laura led her to a bedroom and gestured for her to sit at a vanity. There was a mirror leaned up against the wall and Wanda blinked at her reflection. She looked half dead.

"You can borrow some proper clothes tomorrow," Laura was back, something pink draped over her arm. "But for now you can wear this. I'll wash your clothes tonight."

Wanda sat and listened to her, but didn't process her words. When it seemed clear she wouldn't respond, Laura laid the nightgown out on the bed. She started to brush Wanda's hair, speaking softly and soothingly all the while.

"It's alright, dear. You don't have to be strong here. Stay as long as you like. Though things might not be so restful in a month or so. You'll be running for the hills in no time."

She was braiding Wanda's hair. Her fingers were deft and light, weaving the damp hair tight but comfortable against her scalp.

"Honey, you're shaking. Are you alright?"

Wanda could hear her heart in her ears. Her throat was closing up. She could feel the red mist tinting her vision and crackling in her palms. Laura jumped back.

"Oh- ohh um- Clint!"

"Laura?"

The archer was back.

"Laura, get downstairs, now."

Wanda could feel every inch of her skin itching and a scream building up in her throat. She was vaguely aware of the woman leaving the room and the archer moving cautiously toward her.

"Wanda- you calm the fuck down right now," his face was hard and his words sharp, but she could taste his fear like blood in her mouth. "You need to calm down alright? Because I will keep my family safe. And I don't want that to mean hurting you, okay?"

His words wouldn't stick together in her mind. All that registered was the warning at the end. it was ridiculous. He couldn't hurt her. Not when the red mist was crackling through every inch of her skin.

"Wanda!"

A half-strangled scream escaped her and a tendril of the mist whipped out to knock him back. Wanda felt hot and hard- like metal right before it started to soften in the fire.

"Wanda-hey!"

She turned as the archer got to his feet and charged her. She tried to send the mist at him, but she was losing control. Before she could physically defend herself, he managed to grab her arm and press something to the back of her neck. Wanda screamed again as electric pain course through her and her vision went black.

~

She fell ill once, when they were sixteen. They were sleeping in a doorway behind a restaurant downtown at the time and one morning, she couldn't even pull herself to her feet. Pietro had carried her to a motel in the other side of the city. He argued with the desk clerk for almost an hour while she slipped in and out of consciousness. After he had carried her to a room and laid her down in the bed, he left for what felt like days. She was worse when he came back, shivering wildly under a mountain of flannel and wool.

"Drágám- Ves'tacha..." he was frantic. "I'm here. I'm here, Drágám. Speak, please."

"It's cold."

Even in her delirious state, she could tell he was near tears. "It's not, Drágám. It's not." He felt her face and cursed. "We need-" she whimpered and all but screamed as he tore the blankets off of her.

"What are you-"

"You are too hot." He threw open the widow and let the frigid air in. "Remember? When we were eight? We were sick then, too. Mama, she made us sit in a tub of water. In the kitchen, remember? No heat. And she made us drink ice water? Do you remember, Drágám? Do you remember Anya telling us we needed to get our temperatures down?"

"No- don't take-"

"I'm sorry-" he was trying to pretend he wasn't crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But-"

He took off her socks and skirt and then her layers and layers of tops, apologizing the whole time. Wanda was shivering so violently she could taste blood for biting her tongue.

"I'm sorry," he had pulled the one chair in their tiny room to the bedside so he could grip her hand. "I don't- I don't know what to do, Wanda. I don't know how to make you better-"

She was crying, but didn't have the energy to sob. She lost time again, but the next time she woke up for more than a moment, Pietro was smiling.

"Pietro?"

"Your fever is broken, Drágám. You're alright." He was still crying, but smiling through it now. "You are alright. You're lovely and safe. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

"Will you keep me warm?"

He laughed and gave her a rough kiss before gathering her clothes and the blankets.

"Can you get dressed?" He pressed the clothes to her chest until she took them. "I need to get you food-" he pinched her cheek and grinned at her scowl. "You're wasting away. Get dressed."

"Pietro?"

He paused on his way out the door. "Yes?"

"Where did you get the money for this room?"

"Don't worry, Wanda."

"Drág-"

"Don't worry about it. Just put your dress on."

When he came back, he helped her eat bread and cold deli meat. He crawled into bed after and she let her hands wander up the back of his shirt so she could get closer to the warmth of his skin.

"You will be sick now too."

"It's okay. We know how to fix it now. Open window and take off clothes."

She nodded into his chest and kissed his collarbones. He was so warm and light. Wanda pulled him as close to herself as possible and ran her hands up and down his spine.

"Do you feel better, Ves'tascha?"

"Always, with you."

Chapter Text

Wanda woke up in a bed, the bathrobe still around her under the covers. It took her some time to realize where she was. Sunlight pouring through the window, air warm and fresh, sheets clean. She hadn't forgotten entirely, but she almost thought the room was a dream about some cozy hotel room they had had the good fortune to get. Slowly she remembered the archer and Laura.

Wanda extracted herself from the covers slowly and pulled on the clothes that were laid out on a chair. They were clearly Laura's, though Wanda doubted they fit their owner at the current time. But they served her fine, though a little snug in the hips and short on the wrists and ankles.

"Did you get her sizes from the dirty clothes?"

"She was wearing sweats, Clint."

"So?"

Wanda stood still to listen to the voices outside the room she was in. They had to be talking in the hall just outside the door.

"You're such a guy sometimes."

"Good thing you're here then." A pause. "I know she likes red. And black. Or maybe a change is good. I don't know. Just nothing in blue."

"I'll get her options. Later she can come with and pick her own."

"We should just start a drawer for everyone on the team."

"We should. Stark looked ridiculous in your flannel."

Footsteps, moving away. Wanda waited a few minutes, staring at the little figures arranged on a delicate bit of lace on the dresser. There was no real pattern that she could tell in the collection. A snow globe with a windmill inside sat next to a iron figure of a soldier, which was pointing his rifle at a rabbit carrying a pink and green egg. Wanda opened the door and wandered down the stairs.

"Didn't know when you'd be up."

The archer was in the kitchen making breakfast. He looked different, she thought. Out of his uniform, no weapons at hand. Smaller. Certainly shorter. His socks were a dull shade of purple on slightly duck-angled feet sticking out from blue jeans that dragged under his heels. His arms and hands looked bare without all the leather and gear that was always strapped to them.

"I... yes."

Conversation was not on her list of skills yet. He didn't seem to mind.

"You drink coffee?"

She nodded and sat at the kitchen table. She watched him brew a pot and tried to focus on the action instead of what had happened the night before.

"Were you trying to kill me last night?"

Evidently, he did not feel the same way. Wanda shook her head and looked down at the table in front of her.

"I am... I'm... " he didn't finish her sentence to save her from fumbling for the right words in the right language. "I am apologize to you. You and your family."

He stared at her a moment, as if he couldn't decide if he believed her. At last he nodded stiffly.

"Apologize accepted."

He didn't say anything else. She wasn't sure if this meant she was supposed to keep talking or not. But the exchange had already been exhausting. Thankfully, he finished making breakfast in silence. He sat across from her with a plate and mug and started eating.

"Well, go on then." The archer waved his fork at her. "It's gettin cold waiting for you."

Wanda got up and found a plate, mug and silverware left out next to the coffee pot and skillet. She eyed the plate of flat bread suspiciously.

"Platkes?"

"Nem. Több, mint a palacsinta."

She blinked and it took her several moments to realize that he not only understood her, but had responded in the same language.

"Bezsel-"

"They're called pancakes. Flapjacks. Don't think your people do them exactly like this a whole lot."

Wanda took one and returned to the table.

"I think... I have seen them. On the television."

This startled a laugh from him. The sound seemed crass and uncomfortable. Wanda flinched.

"Sorry." He must have noticed.

They sat eating in silence for a few minutes. The house seemed dead quiet. It seemed unnatural.

"Where are..." she took her time searching for the right words as she remembered details from the day before. "Children?"

"They're spending a few days with their grandparents."

It was because of her. Wanda was relieved. They returned to silence until he was finished. He stood up and rinsed the dishes in the sink before loading them into a dishwasher.

"Meet me out back when you're done."

Wanda frowned, but didn't protest. She wasn't sure she liked him giving her orders. But when she finished eating the tasteless pancakes, she followed his example with the dishes and left the house through a back door. The land was flat plain and scrub forest for what looked like miles. It seemed impossible for land to be so flat.

"I'm setting you up weeding and watering Laura's herbs this morning."

She stared at the archer blankly until he passed her the end of a long green hose. She took it and grimaced. The nozzle was leaky, covering her palm in ice cold slime. He snorted.

"Relax, city kid. Little mud never hurt anybody."

Wanda wanted to tell him she knew dirt and filth he could never imagine, but the words stuck in her throat. She let him show her the vegetable patch he wanted her to water while he started on the weeds in the herb garden.

~

She killed two of Strutger's guards when she first woke. Later, she didn't know how she did it. She had wanted them dead, and then they were. She tried not to think about it too much. If there was a God, He would forgive her, she was sure. Anyone would, if they heard the way Pietro had been screaming.

They were kept in the cells for over a month. Wanda wasn't sure exactly how long. The hours, days and weeks all melded together as her mind swept around at insane speeds. She was barely conscious of the physical space around her, which was probably lucky, as it was filthy enough that bugs and even a few rats were managing to live off of one another in the corners.

She spent days screaming for Pietro. She finally heard him shouting for her to one side of her cell and she pressed herself close to a vent that let the sound through. She was shaking and frantic, trying to decipher his cries and shouts.

"Drágám- drágám, what are they doing to-"

"I'm here- I'm here, Ves-"

His voice broke off and there was a crash and a shout.

"Stop!" She screamed in English, as most of the SHIELD agents seemed to at least vaguely understand the language. "Why do you hurt him? Stop!"

"I am- it's not-"

Every few words he spoke were punctuated by ugly crashes and yells. She called to him awhile longer until she heard him scream. Something flared in her mind and a red mist filled her vision. Her screams matched his until the vent opened up, filling the room that something that made her choke and cough until her vision went black.

When she woke again, she could still hear him letting out cries of pain.

"Pietro... what have they done to you?"

"My arm... I think-" another cry. "I think I broke it."

"You broke-"

"I- I can't stop-" he was in pain- unable to explain anything, but with a flash she understood. At least in part.

He couldn't stop moving. He couldn't control his body the same way she couldn't control her mind. She felt his pain as if it were her own and let out a matching cry.

"Need to get to work on sound-proofing those cells."

She didn't know if she could actually hear the guard on the other side of the glass, or if the new power in her mind was assisting her. She felt other things too. Things that hurt, not just because they were horrible, but because they were things he hadn't ever told her. That half the fights he got into at school were over things the other boys said about her. The way his gut had twisted the first time one of his lovers left a wad of cash on the bed when they left. The constant, terrible fear that she didn't need him the way he did her.

"Pietro..." she whispered softly, lips pressed to the vent in the wall between them. "Pietro? I'm going to get us out of here. I'm sorry. I'm going to fix this."

She tried for weeks. She experimented with what her mind and the mist could do. She could hear him doing the same- though with more crashes. When one of them flew out of control, they were sedated. They were barely fed. No one entered their cells while they were conscious.

It hurt to be separated. Perhaps more than the constant migraines, inability to sleep, and feeling as if she were losing her mind. They hadn't been apart for so much as a day in their whole lives. She had never slept without him near enough to hear his breathing. Not that she could sleep anyway- her mind the way it was. But without him near her, she only slept when sedated.

She learned to contain the mist, unless upset. She did her best to ground her emotions, focusing all her energy on the task. It was exhausting. She could do nothing when she had nightmares. Her mind still spun and ricocheted around with no hope of control.

The cell next to her was still full of crashes and cries. Pietro had always been impatient and anxious- more emotional than she was. But this was more than that. He was more. And so was she.

Chapter Text

Laura stuck her head out the back door hours later.

"You two still at it? Come take a break. I have sandwiches."

Wanda's back ached and the shirt she was wearing was soaked through with sweat. She'd been so focused on the weeds she was pulling she hadn't realized how much time had passed. The archer offered her a hand. Wanda took it and let him pull her from the dirt onto her feet.

The house seemed unnaturally dark after a day of squinting through the sun. She took off her boots and washed her hands in a bathroom near the door. She drank greedily from the sink until a voice behind her made her jump- almost chipping a tooth on the faucet.

"Oh- honey, you don't have to do that."

"Oh-" she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "I- I am sorry."

"No- I didn't mean-" Laura stopped herself and pulled up a smile. "Just come on into the kitchen when you're ready."

Wanda nodded. She splashed cold water on her face and pressed it into a fluffy towel. Colored lights exploded behind the lids of her eyes. She held still for a few moments and let the room spin.

Laura tried to get her talking as they ate, but gave up gracefully after a few questions. Clint didn't seem bothered, as he must have gotten used to her not speaking since breakfast. He ate his way through two sandwiches in the time it took Wanda to realize she was hungry. She ate slowly. The thin bread of the sandwiches stuck to the roof of her mouth and it seemed like a lot of work to swallow. She eyed the glass next to her plate suspiciously. It took an embarrassing amount of time for her to realize that the contents were not in fact, cloudy, contaminated water, but more likely lemonade.

"Oh- Wanda, I picked up some clothes for you while I was in town today," Laura smiled at her. She made eye contact that Wanda could not give back. "Whatever you don't like or doesn't fit, just put back in the bags and I'll return them."

Wanda nodded. "Thank you."

"What would you like to do tonight?" When Wanda only stared at her, the older woman went on. "We can do anything you like. Whether you want some time alone, or would like some company- we have plenty of movies to watch if you just want to relax-"

"Don't think that's such a good idea, Laura."

The table was quiet for several minutes. Wanda didn't mean to use her power, but the silence was oppressive and her mind wanted it filled.

Flashes of the types of movies the archer was afraid would set her and her powers off. Guns. Natural disasters. Grieving. Families. Orphaned children. He was sure there wasn't anything she would truly be able to relax to. He was so afraid of what would happen if she was upset again.

Laura felt helpless, and Wanda was surprised to find more frustration than she would have expected from her sweet demeanor. She wanted to badly to help. But she had not even the faintest idea how she could. Feeling ineffective made her angry and afraid.

"I'm not going to lose control again. I'm not."

They both looked up from their food at her. Wanda looked back down and took a sip of her lemonade.

"I- I know you are afraid. And... I'm very sorry for... everything. Everything I have done to make you afraid. But I- I can control it. You don't have to feel like... like you are waiting for me to..." Her tongue decided to realize this was the most she had spoken in a month before she could finish her thought. She struggled to find what she was saying again.

"Well... thanks for that."

He'd believe it when he saw it.

Wanda tried on the clothes and only put back the ones that were too small. There were jeans in both black and grey as well as a collection of t-shirts. True to the tone of the farm, there was even a red and black plaid flannel shirt. There was also a collection of packaged underwear and a full bag of bras of varying sizes. The more she tried on, the more Wanda doubted what they were actually supposed to feel like. She saved them all, but left the tags on.

When she was finished, Wanda took the jeans she hadn't been able to zip up and the shirts that hadn't fit over her shoulders downstairs. Both of them were washing dishes, sleeves rolled up to their elbows. A radio played softly in one corner, and Laura swayed to the song while Clint hummed along.

Wanda set the bag down at the bottom of the stairs as quietly as she could. She returned to the guest room and spent the rest of the night staring at the wall until her tears exhausted her enough to sleep.

~

They went on that way for almost a week. During the day, she helped Clint and Laura with whatever they needed in the yard or the house. At night, she tried to talk as much as her energy would allow, which wasn't much, then went to bed.

Her nightmares were never-ending. She spent upwards of twelve hours in bed every night, but never felt rested. Wanda could feel Clint start to cautiously trust her, but Laura was more and more tense as time went on.

"Your wife is unhappy with me," she said one day as they washed the windows. "I can feel her. She is upset."

"She's... it's not about you."

"It is."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It is, but only part of it. And it's not your fault. She's pregnant. Messes with your hormones and makes it hard to deal with stress. She wants to help you, but she doesn't know how. Then again, she just wants to focus on the baby. There's just a lot going on in this house right now, and it's hard."

Wanda didn't know the word "hormones," but she nodded, concentrating on a splatter of a dead bug.

"She's not going to take it out on you, if that's what you're worried about. Laura's not like that."

"It's not that. I just... I don't know if there is anything I can say to help. I do not want to make it worse."

Wanda didn't need her powers to know this surprised him. She wondered if he had thought her too selfish to consider something like this.

"I don't know either, Kid."

"I'm not a 'kid,'" She scowled at the window as she scrubbed. "I am twenty-four years old. I am not a child."

He let out a small laugh and Wanda turned to look at him, where he was cleaning a window on the other side of the front door, her eyebrows snapping together.

"Sorry," he was trying to fight down a grin. "Just- you sound like Nat when I first met her. 'Cept she actually was a kid."

"Who-"

"Ah- Natasha. Agent Romanov. Black Widow."

Wanda thought for a moment before nodding.

"Úrnője Halála."

"...Death's Mistress."

He was quiet for a moment. Wanda wished she hadn't said it. The name sounded rude and offensive, translated and spoken by someone who knew the woman personally. It was meant to be, but there was more satisfaction in scorning a stranger.

"I'm sorry. She is... your friend."

"It's okay. I guess I just never thought about other countries having different names for us." another pause. "Do you have a different name for me?"

Wanda pressed her lips together. "A Lila Galamb."

"I don't know 'galamb.'"

"Is... bird. Grey. Eats garbage." She rolled her tongue while making a soft cooing noise.

Clint let out a laugh. It took Wanda a few moments to realize why her cheeks felt tight.

"Nat gets 'Death's Mistress' and I'm 'The Purple Pigeon.' Fucking typical."

As his laughter died down, the smile fell off of Wanda's face as something hot and sick began to rise up in the pit of her stomach.

"Anyway, I know you're not a kid. I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?" Her hands were shaking, but concentrating on their conversation helped.

"I meant it... just that- you're in a new situation. And I've got your back. Make sense?"

Wanda swallowed hard and concentrated on another splattered bug. "Yes."

~

Their mother was anxious about their first day of school. She tried to hide it, but they could always tell. She had even taken the day off of work and done her hair, a sure sign that things were serious. She made them get ready and hour early and stand in the kitchen for her inspection.

"They will be fine, my love," their father said as he drank his coffee. "It is only school."

"I am allowed to worry for my babies," she snapped, tugging at Wanda's braid to straighten it. "And I am not worried."

"We are not babies," Pietro scowled, but he was itching his nose and shifting his weight from foot to foot. He was just as nervous as their mother. Wanda lifted her hand from her side and opened her palm so he could take it. He did, but still stuck out his jaw stubbornly when their mother scrubbed at a spot of dirt on his cheek. He liked showing anger better than fear.

"You are," their mother rocked back onto her heels to give them another once-over. "You are babies going out into the world on your own for the first time."

Their father muttered something about his "dramatic Romani woman." She ignored him and reached into her pocket. She pressed a charm into each of their hands. They compared the little gold disks to be sure they were the same.

"These will keep you safe," she ran a hand down both their faces as they turned the charms over in their hands. Their father looked up, but this time, said nothing. For all his teasing, he knew this was something he didn't understand. "But I want you two to look after each other, alright?"

"Would you feel better if I walked with you three to the school?"

Their mother tried to pretend this offer was silly and unnecessary, but when their father wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her under the ear, she gave in.

Their parents walked behind them on the way to the school, speaking in low voices. Wanda pulled Pietro along by the hand. She was nervous too, but the feeling was mostly drowned in excitement.

"Come on! You're too slow, Brother."

"Am not!"

But they paused on the sidewalk outside the school's low gate. Children rushed around on all sides. They were playing and shouting and so loud. They all looked much bigger than the twins. Their mother kissed them quickly, hugging them both to her shoulders at once. Their father bent down next, balancing on the balls of his feet and looking them in the eye with a small smile.

"Your mother worries too much. You two are going to have fun today. But..." he tugged gently at Wanda's braid and the bit of hair that never seemed to want to stay straight over Pietro's left temple. "Do take care of each other, alright? Always. It's your job."

Chapter Text

The next day, she helped Laura with the laundry. There was something enjoyably novel about the task. The last time she had used a washing machine, she had gone down the street to the Laundromat with her father, helping to carry the bag of dirty clothes. After they were orphaned, she and Pietro were usually lucky to be able to rinse their underwear in a public bathroom sink every few days.

She looked up from pouring the detergent when the front door opened.

"Hey- Maximoff- come out here. I got somethin to show you."

The screen door closed again. Laura gave her an encouraging smile, so Wanda pulled on the woman's spare pair of boots and wandered out onto the deck. Clint was waiting on the path, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Come on. There's someone I want you to meet."

She stopped and took a step back toward the porch steps.

"No- I don't want to meet-"

"Oh come on- it's not what you think-" he followed her, putting a hand on her elbow. "Just follow me- okay? You don't have to introduce yourself or make small-talk, I promise."

She was still skeptical, but she allowed him to lead her down the yard path to the barn. She hadn't been inside the building yet. She had explored very little of the house and yard, confining herself to wherever the Bartons needed help and her guest bedroom. Inside, Clint led her through a line of stalls, most of them filled with dismantled equipment and half-finished carpentry projects. At the end, one stall was used for its original purpose. Wanda held back as Clint whistled while he entered the small space and greeted the dusty yellow horse with a slap to its side.

"Wanda- this is Crystal."

Wanda snorted so loud that he whipped his head around, face drawn. He was on edge- waiting for her to break again. She shook her head and held up her palms- free of mist- to show him she was in control. She stepped into the stall when he offered her a small smile and a nod.

"You think my horse's name is funny?"

"When we were eight, there was a girl in our class," she put a cautious hand on the mare's hindquarters. "She was called Crystal. Her parents were from England and she barely spoke a word of Magyar. But she followed us everywhere." Wanda moved closer, letting her hand slide along the huge animal's round side. "Eight years old. Pietro said he was going to marry her. I got jealous and said not if I married her first."

They stood in silence for a moment as she petted the dumpy old mare. Wanda didn't need her powers to know he was waiting for the moment where she realized she had said Pietro's name aloud for the first time since she arrived. The first time she had referenced him at all, in fact. When she didn't burst into tears or start raving like a lunatic, he cast about for something to say.

"What ever happened to her?"

"I don't know. We never saw her after the bombs."

He let her move slowly, standing back and watching as she reached the horse's head.

"Jó reggelt kívánok, Crystal," she muttered, smoothing a hand up into the mane. She was surprised at the way the course hair felt oily and dusty all at once. "Te szép is. Csak úgy, mint a Crystal."

She let out a tiny gasp as the horse butt her head against Wanda's chest.

"You're not used to big animals, are you?"

"If a big enough dog is close to you on the street, you are maybe his dinner."

He laughed. It was a decent laugh, she decided.

"Well, Crystal ain't thinking about eating you, I promise. She won't ever hurt you- just so long as she knows where you are."

He showed her how to keep her hand on the mare's back while she walked through her blindspots.

~

The nightmare was typical- Pietro's blood and sweat dripping down his face onto the concrete floor, the barrel of a gun to the back of his head- but it made Wanda scream for the first time at the farmhouse. She wasn't fully awake when the guestroom door burst open.

"Wanda! Hey- Wanda! Wake up!"

A light turned on and she finally wrested herself out of the dream to struggle at getting her bearings. She wasn't screaming anymore, but her breath was coming in short, hurried gasps. She was vaguely aware of Clint speaking to her.

"Wanda. Come on. You're alright. You're here. Deep breaths, okay? You are safe. You are in control. You told me you could control your... stuff. And you can. You are."

When she finally caught her breath and gained her focus, she had her legs pulled up to her chest, her eyes pressed hard into her kneecaps.

"You're okay, kiddo. You did good. Didn't go even a little red. You're okay."

Wanda lifted her head and looked through her tear-clouded eyes down at Clint. He was sitting on the floor next to her bed, leaned up against the dresser with his legs stretched out in front of him. She turned back to the quilt covering her knees. It was easier to look at the careful stitching than the archer's set face.

"We..." her voice felt small and she wasn't sure he could even hear her. "We didn't know. We thought it was SHIELD and we hated them, but we went anyway and- and we didn't know."

He let her shudder out the explanation between her sobs without interrupting. When she had finished with as much as she could bear to say aloud, he spoke in a low, calm voice while she continued to cry.

"We thought as much. The file said you were volunteers, but coming from a Hydra base- we figured you were at least ill-informed." He was quiet for a moment. "They had us all fooled, Wanda. It's not your fault. They had SHIELD infiltrated for decades. There's no way you could have known."

"Our grandfather- he lived through it. Last time. He lost his whole family. And we walked into the lab. No one made us."

"You didn't know. It's not like they had swastikas on the door."

"It is sick. It was like we spat on their graves."

"No-" he didn't raise his voice, but there was no argument allowed in his tone. "It's them. It's all on them. They lied to you, and when they couldn't lie anymore, they put a gun to your head. You can't carry the guilt for something someone did to you. It'll kill you to try."

"We did- I did things. I've hurt-"

"Yeah, you have. So don't you got enough shit to work on makin up for without taking on stuff that wasn't actually your fault?"

He didn't leave until she'd cried herself out and fallen asleep.

~

She slept in the next morning and the sun was high in the sky by the time she was dressed. Clint must have been outside working when she came downstairs, so she made her own coffee. Laura was on the couch. She usually was, now. Her back hurt all the time. Wanda couldn't imagine the discomfort. The woman looked far too small to have another human inside her.

"You're awake," she smiled at Wanda as she wandered into the living area while her coffee brewed. "Thought you'd sleep forever."

"I'm sorry. Do you need something?"

"No, no." Laura winced as she readjusted her position. "I was just wondering if I should wake you up or not. Clint's in town today and I was getting a little lonely."

Wanda didn't know what to say to this.

"I'm... sorry. I'm probably not very good company."

This was evidently the right thing to say, because Laura laughed.

"Well, I'm probably not either. I'll probably start crying over Legally Blond if we're lucky."

Wanda smiled and sat on the opposite end of the couch.

"I can bring you sweets and tissues if you need them."

Laura smiled. "That's very sweet of you. Do you want to just pick out a movie for me? I've been reading for days but my eyes are going buggy."

Wanda was surprised to find she recognized half the titles in the family's collection. There had been a theater in the north of the city with a poorly watched back door. It often showed Hollywood movies, as there were very few local films worth showing. She picked out a stop-motion children's movie with singing ghosts and put it in the disc player.

"Excellent choice."

Clint came home after an hour. The children were with him. Wanda looked up from the television, watching frozen as the boy and girl ran to kiss their mother. Laura looked pleased, but unsurprised to see her children. Wanda looked at Clint, questioning. He nodded.

~

After they saw Stark for the first time, he was angry. He wanted the man dead. He did not understand why she made him wait. So he was careless, because he didn't know how to be cruel the same way she was when she was angry.

He was gone for nearly a full day, stealing. She understood why when he came back with Chanel.

"Is not just the dress- the stealing," he muttered as they walked to the church. To the "Iron Man" Costel had promised them. "What are you so angry about?"

"I'm not angry, I'm annoyed."

"At what? My stealing has never bothered you this much, even before."

"Before" was the full phrase to them. Before Pietro came back to the shelter after being gone for hours, his face bruised and lip split. Before he told her that the man who did it had told him about a group who sought to end the Avengers. Before they had gone to the castle in the woods. Before Strutger.

He didn't understand. They were so close to getting away from it all.

"Pietro, where is Zrinka going to wear that dress?"

He blinked. Whatever he had been expecting her to say about the incident, it was not that.

"Out."

"Out where?" She stopped and met his eyes steadily.

He shrugged and shuffled his feet the way little boys did about this sort of thing.

"I don't know. Somewhere nice. I could take her."

"With what money?" When he opened his mouth, she waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I see. You will rob a bank. You will steal shoes to match the dress. You will pay for her hair, nails and makeup to be done. You will get new clothes for yourself too. Shave. Dye your hair back so you look halfway respectable. She will find someone to leave Costel with for the night. You will take her to Voros Kiraly. You will have dinner. You will go up to the room that you paid for with stolen money." She raised her eyebrows at him as he swallowed. "Then, in the morning, she will go back to the shelter and to looking after Costel. She will sell the shoes for bread money. But she will keep the dress. Maybe stuff it in her pillow case. So she can always remember that a silly boy named Pietro Maximoff wanted to get between her thighs." Wanda sneered. "Lucky girl."

He looked like he was about to cry, but his jaw as clenched and his eyes hard.

"Why do you have to do this? Every time?"

"Because you need to focus!" He didn't understand. They were so close. And she was betting every chip they had on a feeling. She hadn't been so scared since under the bed. "You get distracted by stupid things and never use your head! Everything we have wanted- it is about to happen! And you are too busy staring at Zrinka's breasts to care!"

"You're not better than me." His voice was steady, but she could see he was clenching his fists. "For not wanting anyone. It doesn't make you smarter or- or better. Stop pretending it does."

She was so much better at being cruel. It came naturally to her in a way he had never been able to duplicate. He should have said there was something wrong with her. That she was damaged somehow and no one would ever even want her anyway. That was all she wanted from him in that moment, but he couldn't give it. She wanted him to take over and say they should give up on whatever stupid plans she had. But he wouldn't.

"Let's go. Stark is waiting."

Chapter Text

Wanda woke to a knock on the guestroom door the next morning.

"Up and at'em Maximoff. We're going into town today."

Wanda told him to do something that made him laugh.

"You're lucky my kids are at school already, Kid. Come on. I'm taking you into town."

Wanda rolled over with a groan.

"Hurry up. I'll be waiting in the car."

She got up and dressed slowly, wanting to punish him for waking her. Outside, a robin's egg Mustang was pulled up to the front of the house, and she dropped into the passenger's seat. This, like the laundry, felt novel. She could count on one hand the amount of times she had been in any vehicle smaller than a city bus.

The radio was playing a nauseatingly twangy tune. She stared at the controls a moment before figuring out which button was the volume and turning it off.

"Hey-" Clint shot her what was supposed to be a scowl, but had too much humor around the eyes. He clicked the radio back on. "You're in 'murica now. Gotta educate you on decent music."

"Is not decent. Is cowboy music."

"Yeah well it's the only kind that's really ours, so appreciate it."

Wanda tried to roll her eyes and look as annoyed as possible.

It was only a twenty minute drive into town. Wanda didn't ask where they were going. It didn't seem particularly important. It felt good to be away from the farm and surrounded by activity, even in such a small town. Clint pulled the car up to a low brick building off the main street.

"Listen," he said as he shifted the car into park. "The reason we're here is for... a test."

"Test?"

Wanda's pulse started to pound. A doctor. He must want her looked at by a doctor. A doctor who would take her blood and peel back her eyelids and-

"You alright, Kid?"

Wanda hadn't realized that her fists were clenched on her knees until Clint spoke again.

"I- I don't want to see a doctor." She stared with determination out the windshield, bracing herself for him to tell her she had no choice in the matter.

"Doctor? What- no- that's not what this is about. It's about school."

Wanda blinked and tore her gaze from the tree in front of which he had parked. Clint was looking somewhat alarmed and clearly concerned at her.

"School?"

"Yeah-" he pulled up a smile. "I set things up yesterday. I told the local board you're a refugee who never finished school. They're happy to let you take a placement test today. Then you can work your way through the material you need and get your GED."

Wanda stared at him. She didn't know what a GED was, but she thought she knew what he was saying.

"You want me.... to graduate school?"

His face fell slightly. "Well- I kind of thought you would want to. If it's not a big deal to you, we can just forget about it-"

"No." She said firmly, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I want to. Thank you."

She got out of the car and lifted her hand from her side, opening her palm before remembering there was no one to calm her nerves.

~

Three hours later, Wanda's brain felt liquid. She'd been able to at least try to answer each question. She was surprised by how much she remembered from school. The rest was probably wrong. But there was a certain level of logic she relied on that she hoped continued to serve her well.

"How do you think you did?" Clint had stopped to order burgers on the way back to the farmhouse and Wanda had to admit she was impressed with his ability to unwrap and eat a patty with one hand while steering with the other.

"Alright." She bit into one of the french fries and tried not to make any noises of ecstasy. She didn't want to admit that she'd never tried one before. "We weren't- I know we weren't in school, but there was a library. It was the only warm place that wouldn't kick us out for not buying anything. So I think I am not as stupid as I was when we were ten years old."

He laughed. "I'm sure you did great. Try to forget about it until the results come in later this week."

Wanda nodded, but she was starting to feel sick. It wasn't the fast food.

"What... what am I going to do?"

"Try the nuggets in the ranch, that's what you're going to do."

He'd misunderstood on purpose and she let him. She wasn't ready for a real answer anyway.

~

Clint took Laura to appointments more and more often. The woman was getting bigger and more anxious by the second. She'd taken to pacing, both palms on her lower back, then shaking out her hands as though they were wet and she was trying to dry them. Wanda tried to stay out of her way, as her restlessness was contagious. She was glad when the results of her test came in the mail and she had something to focus on other than the anticipatory tone of the house.

Laura and Clint both tried to pretend they were very busy setting the table for lunch while she scanned the paperwork.

English: Composition- 8th Grade

          Comprehension- COMPLETE

Math: Equations- 9th Grade

          Graphing- 10th Grade

Science: Theory- 11th Grade

          Application- 9th Grade

Social Studies: History- COMPLETE

                   Geography- COMPLETE

"I... I don't know these grades?"

Clint took this as permission to cross behind her and read over her shoulder.

"Well, damn!" He laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. "Means you're done with Social Studies and Reading, and you've only got a little ways to go in Math and Science. Bit of work for writing, but that's not a surprise in your second language."

"Well done!" Laura put an arm around her shoulders, giving her an affectionate little shake.

Wanda smiled down at the page and tried to ignore that she could feel a flush rising up her face.

They made a cake to celebrate that night, for which the children were thrilled. There were few sweets in the house, as Laura was doing her best to eat healthily for the baby.

"What's it for?" Cooper asked- young enough to be excited, but old enough to realize that cakes do not simply happen for no reason.

"Wanda did good on a test. For school."

The children shot her shy, but pleased looks- clearly delighted that she was evidently still going to school like them. Wanda had barely interacted with them since their return to the house. Clint and Laura must have told them to leave her alone, for which she was grateful. But she still caught them looking at her. Wanda wondered if they knew who she was and what she could do.

She looked down at her food, her high spirits draining and her stomach twisting as Clint promised she could use the desktop in the living room to work through her online courses.

~

Wanda combed her own hair with her fingers for almost two years on the streets. But it became too long to leave loose, where the wind caught it and tangled it in an instant. She started tying it back with whatever she could find, but one day, Pietro found her crying while she waited for him outside the bathroom of the library.

"What's wrong? Drágám? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she sniffed pitifully. This was unconvincing, even to the emotional perception of a twelve year old boy.

"Did someone-"

"No one bothered me," she continued to sniffle. "It's just..." it felt stupid to say it aloud. "My hair."

"Your-" he frowned, but didn't tease her for it the way she had thought he might. "Oh. What's wrong with it?"

"I- I don't know how to- to take care of it by myself." She was sobbing now. It was stupid, but her hair was all she cared about in that moment, in spite of everything else. "I don't- I don't know how to braid."

He sat next to her on the floor of the back hall in the library and put his arm around her while she finished crying herself out. She should be crying about anything but this. She should be crying about how hungry she was. And how they hadn't been able to wash in weeks. About how they had been sleeping in the slide at the park their parents used to bring them to- huddled together to share warmth. But instead she cried for over an hour because she didn't know how to braid her own hair.

"I could try it."

Wanda sniffed and blinked at him.

"What?"

He was smiling, excited by the prospect of being able to do something.

"It will be easier for me. I always watched her do it."

Wanda took his hand and let him drag her to the pharmacy down the street. He took a small plastic comb and beamed all the way down the street when he wasn't caught. They holed up back in the library toilet and he carefully combed all the tangles out of her hair.

"We should have thought of this earlier," he declared, already confident that the experiment would be a success. "You won't have to wash it or brush it all the time if we just tie the end. You won't need to do anything with it!"

When he was finished combing, he separated the hair into sections and started to twist them. She knew it was wrong. It didn't feel the way it did when their mother had braided her hair. But Wanda said nothing, hoping he would figure things out as he went.

"Oh- um- I don't think- one moment..."

Wanda chewed her lips and bit back a cry as he tugged.

"No- that's not right..."

After almost an hour, they were both crying. It was hopeless. He'd managed to tangle and knot her waist length hair beyond saving. He'd torn whole clumps out, trying to fix his work, but to no avail. Wanda made him steal a pair of scissors next.

Chapter Text

With Clint and Laura at the doctor's office and the children at school, Wanda woke up to an empty house. She didn't like the oppressive silence of the country. She tried turning on the radio, but couldn't find any music she liked.

She put on Laura's boots and went out to the barn. She wasn't sure how one was supposed to call horses, so she made soft clicking noises like her mother always had when they were sick or crying. The horse made a soft wickering noise in response and stuck her head over the stall door to blow hot breath in her face. Wanda scratched at the horse's ears as she opened the stall and slipped inside.

"Helló, Crystal. Helló, kedves lány."

She stood quietly for a few minutes, absently scratching at the mare's forehead. Without really deciding to do it, she searched around for a foothold on the wall. She gripped the horse's mane tightly and clambered onto her back. Crystal held still, unbothered by the whole clumsy process. Wanda straightened up once her legs were on either side of the animal. Astride the dumpy old mare, she felt stupid. What had she expected to do? She'd closed the stall door behind her.

Wanda hesitated, staring at the latch on the stall door. If she thought about it too much, she wouldn't be able to do it. The latch bent and twisted in the red mist. She winced. She'd fix it later.

Wanda tapped her heels against Crystal's sides experimentally. The horse seemed to understand, and started to lumber out of the stall and towards the doorway. Wanda slowly began to work out how to move with the animal's shifting muscles under her. When Crystal started wandering toward the lush herb garden, it seemed natural to give the horse the mental image of the sunny hillside across the yard. It worked.

She could relax and survey the landscape while Crystal grazed. There was a cluster of birds soaring up above, circling and swooping around on the warm June air. There was an odd, constant clicking noise. It didn't seem sinister, so Wanda only made a mental note to ask Clint why his lawn ticked.

She didn't realize how long she had been out in the field until she heard the crunch of the gravel driveway under the Mustang's wheels. She and Crystal looked up at almost the same time. It was quite aways away, but she still saw Clint pause as he got out of the driver's seat, staring out into the field at her. Wanda raised a hesitant hand. He waved back before helping Laura out of the passenger seat and inside.

Wanda suggested the image of the barn to Crystal and they returned to the horse's stall. She slid off the animal's back and started work on fixing the latch.

"Probably the most exercise Crystal's gotten in months."

The latch mostly functional once more, she turned to nod to the archer as he approached.

"I am sorry. I should have asked."

He shrugged. "No problem. She could use the attention."

They were quiet for awhile as Clint filled a bucket with oats and hung it in the stall where Crystal could reach.

"Are you going back?" She blurted it out suddenly, half afraid of his answer. "To the Avengers?"

If he picked up on the anxiety in the question, he didn't comment on it.

"Not anytime soon. Those guys could start another world war and I wouldn't pick up the phone. Not until the baby's here."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "When-"

"Due date's next week. But it could be any second now. Lila was two weeks early. Just about had a heart attack over it."

Wanda forced a smile and followed him back to the house.

~

She was nearly through with the math lessons when Laura went into labor a week later.

"Shit- fuck-" Clint was swearing in a constant stream as he threw things into a duffle bag. He didn't seem to care that Cooper and Lila were standing nearby, watching and listening, their eyes wide.

"What can I-"

"Stay here with the kids."

Wanda froze, her hands and face going cold. "But-"

"We have a babysitter on the way," he either didn't notice or didn't care that she was spiraling into a panic. "You only have to look after them for an hour."

"An hou-"

"Listen-" Clint's face was set, just like it was when he was Hawkeye. It took this moment for Wanda to realize that she thought of them as different people. "I need you to look after my kids, okay? Because I need your help. And I trust you, Wanda, but you got to step up to it. So while I take my wife to the hospital and spend hours feeling like a madman who can't do a thing to help her while she's going through the worst pain on earth, you're gunna chuck in Mulan, nuke some popcorn, and tell my kids their Mama and little brother are going to be fine."

Wanda swallowed hard. She nodded. In a flurry of movement and counted breathing, they were gone. The moment the door snapped shut behind them, Lila started to cry.

"Um," Wanda bent down in front of the girl, hands on her thighs. "Please do not cry. Everything will be fine."

It felt like a lie. She didn't know everything would be alright. Women and infants died in childbirth every day. But she did what Clint had told her.

"Um- do you want sweets?"

"No!" Lila wailed, crying harder. "I- want- my- Mama!"

"Your mother is with the doctor, Lila. I-" she looked imploringly to Cooper. He looked pale, but set his jaw once they made eye contact.

"Lila- calm down! Mama's gunna be fine."

"I-" the girl sobbed between each word. "Want- to- see- her! Now!"

She started screaming and fell to the floor. Horrified, Wanda dropped down to her knees, shushing the girl as she continued to scream.

"Lila- stop it!" Cooper got down on the floor as well, putting a hand on his sister's shoulder.

She rolled away from him, still wailing.

"Lila- please..."

Wanda frantically tried to think of anything she could do to quiet the girl. Without really meaning to, she searched through the house with her mind, reaching out for the little stuffed dog Lila was always carrying around. She found it under the girl's pillow and sent a tendril of mist up the stairs to fetch it.

Lila screamed on, her eyes closed tight, but Cooper was staring at Wanda, his eyes round. Wanda said nothing, concentrating on bringing the stuffed doll down the stairs. Lila stopped yelling when she opened her eyes to see her favorite toy floating down the stairs, bathed in red mist. Wanda twisted her hand and the dog slowed as it made its descent into Lila's awaiting arms. She let the mist drain back inside her mind, closing her eyes and taking slow, deep breaths. She hadn't done anything so complex since Sokovia.

"You're trusting yourself again, Drágám. This is good."

Wanda swallowed a horrified scream, but held on to her control. She kept her eyes squeezed tight, afraid of what she would see if she opened them.

"You're... magic."

Wanda opened her eyes at last to find both the children staring at her in awe.

"I..."

"Are you a witch?" Lila was whispering, squeezing her dog in either fear or elation, it wasn't clear which. "Like Hermione?"

"I..." Wanda didn't know what to say.

"You're a new Avenger, aren't you?" Cooper had sobered somewhat, and was now fixing her with a solemn, impressed look. "You have superpowers. Like Captain America. And the Hulk."

"No," Wanda replied quietly. Her hands were shaking. She risked a quick glance around the living room to be sure that she wand the children were the only ones there. "Not like them."

~

They were smoking in an alley when the SHIELD agents found them. They'd gotten the leaf from one of the other protesters- a middle class university student who went back to his warm flat after every meeting. He was good-hearted and genuine, but they couldn't help but hate him a little bit. But they took the joints he offered with a smile.

"No more for you-" she plucked it from his fingers to steal the last few drags. "You're always too hungry already."

"I'm bigger- of course I am," he sat on a nearby crate and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down to settle across his legs. "You're warm, Ves'tacha."

"You're high, Drágám." She curled into where she fit perfectly against him. Wanda turned her face from his shoulder to take another drag. "How is your face?"

"I am beautiful as always."

"Fuck off- you know what I mean."

He held her tighter and kissed her. He'd come back to her beaten, two nights before. He still had his money, and refused to tell her what had happened, which meant it had been one of his lovers.

"Smoke helps. Does it still look bad?"

"You look very tough," she assured him, gripping his hand tight. "People respect black eyes."

"I should be beaten more often."

"Shut up."

She hated when he said those things. She did not understand how he could be so calm about being hurt. It never seemed to bother him all that much when he came back to her with bruises, bites and nail tracks on his body. He even shrugged and laughed about it most days. This time was different. But he still didn't seem bothered, just thoughtful.

"I'm sorry."

"If I meet him, I will kill him."

"Don't say that. I... I wanted him to hurt me."

She wanted to think she had imagined his words. That she was higher than she had thought. But she couldn't deny what she'd heard.

"Maximoff?"

They looked up at the man who had wandered down the alley without their notice. Wanda's throat tightened the way it always did when a stranger said their name.

"Who is looking for Maximoff?"

The man gave her a thin smirk, blue eyes taking in the two of them, their tangled limbs. He looked at them the way people did when they were about to make accusations, concerns, or sometimes propositions about their relationship. If she had to guess, Wanda would have said his thoughts were closest to proposition.

"I am looking for both of you," he said slowly and clearly, as if she were a dim-witted child. "You've been invited to meet the Baron. Congratulations."

"The Baron?"

They didn't know of any Baron. Sokovia had been a democratic nation for decades- at least in name. No one held titles anymore.

The man only continued to smirk. "Follow me."

Chapter Text

The sitter came soon enough. If she was confused why she was called when there was already an adult in the house, she said nothing.

"Kate!" Cooper jumped to his feet as the girl came through the door. 'Girl' because she couldn't have been any older than sixteen. "Did you bring anything good?"

"A classic-" she winked at him and pulled something out of her rucksack. "Mortal Kombat. Way above your age group."

As Cooper raced to put the game in one of the many players in a drawer under the television, the girl stuck out her hand.

"Hey there. I'm Kate. Where'd you come from? You another one of Clint's strays?"

Wanda didn't know what this meant, so she shrugged.

"She's Miss Wanda."

Wanda jumped at Lila's voice at her hip. She didn't realize the little girl was standing so close to her.

"And she's magic."

"That's cool," Kate didn't seem to question this claim as she gave Lila an affectionate pat on the head. "So that means me and Coop can two-player while you're on eye-covering duty for this one, right?"

Clint called near ten o'clock.

"Shit-take mushrooms-" the children giggled as Kate caught herself. "Hey- Magic Wanda, can you get that? Tell Barton his kids are in bed and I'm...." she shrugged and took a gulp of her soda, "washing dishes or something."

Wanda nodded and got off the couch and into the kitchen to answer the phone. Clint started talking the second she picked up the receiver.

"Hey- hey- it's fine. Laura's fine. Nathaniel's fine. That's his name. The baby, I mean. They're both sleeping now. I'm wrecked. But it's fine. I'm going to stay here tonight. Can you tell Kate to bring the kids to the hospital tomorrow around noon? And send my kids to bed."

"They are. In bed. Kate is-"

"She's watching scary movies with them that will keep them up for weeks, come on, Wanda. I'm not as dumb as I look."

Wanda almost smiled. She was having a lot of those lately. Almost smiles. They felt better than real smiles. She didn't feel cold and empty after them, anyway.

"It is games, actually. People's heads fly off when you kick them."

"Nice. Send them to bed for real. I'm going to go black out in a folding chair. Night."

They came back two days later. Laura looked strange, shrunk down to her actual size. Clint paid Kate what looked like far too much money for staying with the children, then collapsed on the couch while Laura brought the baby up to the nursery.

"This is the last one," he moaned, an arm thrown over his eyes. "I can't do this again."

"Hey-" Laura was back, offering Wanda a tired smile before hitting her husband with a pillow. "I'm the one who did all the work."

"Yeah, but I'd rather do work than the pacing. Pacing is the worst."

Laura smiled and crawled on top of him, fitting her head under his chin. "You're right though. Last one."

Wanda left them where they were and left her schoolwork for a day to make meals so they wouldn't have to.

~

Wanda closed the door to the guest room once she was sure everyone in the house was asleep. There was a large rucksack in the closet of the guestroom. She packed up the clothes Laura had bought her and some soap and toothpaste from the bathroom. Downstairs, she dug through the cupboards as quietly as possible.

"What are you doing, Ves'tacha?"

She bit her tongue until it bled.

Halfway through putting on Laura's boots, she felt guilty and tied up the tennis shoes she arrive in instead. Out in the cool summer night, she tried to estimate how long it would take her to walk into town, based on her one car-ride there. There were no vehicles on the gravel road. She didn't know if this should make her more or less anxious.

She walked for almost an hour before the headlights crept up behind her. For a moment, she was nervous, but part of her knew who it was. The window of the Mustang rolled down as it slowed to match her pace.

"You running out on me, Kid?"

She ignored him and kept walking, hitching the bag up further on her shoulder.

"You know, Laura and the kids are going to take this personally if you don't say goodbye."

"I left a note."

"Yeah, it's a post-it that says 'Thank you. Goodbye.' That kinda sucks, Wanda."

When she didn't respond, he sighed.

"Listen- it's another twenty miles. The buses won't come until morning anyway. Then you're going to be so worn out from the trek, you'll fall asleep and miss ticketing hours and have to wait another day anyway. Just let me drive you the rest of the way."

Wanda stopped and so did the car. She hesitated, suspicious.

"You will bring me back to your home."

"Come on- I ever give you a reason not to trust me?"

She scowled, then dumped the rucksack through his back window before getting into the passenger's seat. He continued on down the road in silence once she had snapped her seatbelt.

"Where were you going to go?"

"I don't know." She stared at the stars out the window for a moment. There had been a night, after the bombings, when Pietro had looked up at the sky and gasped. With half the city's lights gone, they saw the real night sky for the first time. "How did you know I was gone?"

"The whole time you been with us, you got a look about you like you're waiting on us to chase you out."

It reminded her of what her mother used to say about her people. "It is not wanderlust. It is knowing it is better to leave by choice than to be run out." Wanda cleared her throat.

"I stayed too long. You and Laura have been kind, but it is time for me to find my own life so I can stop taking yours."

"You're not taking. People are a part of other people's lives. They're called relationships."

"It is not relationship if you only care for me for guilt."

The car was silent for a minute. He had expected her to sit quietly while he lectured her.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You do," she swallowed and hugged her sweatshirt tighter around herself. "You think I don't know. But I do. About why-" her throat was tight, but there were no tears coming. "About how he died."

"About how," he agreed, his voice gruff and quiet. "I know that much. Still don't get the why."

"We knew Costel- the boy."

"Yeah, but he coulda- coulda grabbed the kid and left me where I was. Would have been faster than moving that whole car."

"And now you are thinking it should have been you," it felt good to say it aloud. All the things she had been thinking at him when he shot her those guilty looks over their dinner. "You think you have to take care of me. Because he is not here to do it."

"That's not-"

"You thought that you would have to sit me down and tell me you watched him die. You thought, once I knew, I would blame you."

"So, do you?"

She appreciated that he was being just as frank as she was. Their conversations always went better this way.

"No. He made a stupid choice. He would not have done it if he knew what would happen. He- he did not mean to die for you." Her eyes were still dry, but her throat was closing up, making her voice go far too high. "He... he was so afraid to die."

Clint cleared his throat and they stayed quiet until he parked outside the tiny, dingy bus station.

"So-"

"Thank you. I..." she had been about to tell him she would see him again, but caught herself. "Goodbye."

"Yeah. Bye."

He unlocked the doors and stuck out a hand. Wanda shook it and was halfway out the door before she remembered.

"I-" she felt her face start to burn.

"You didn't steal any money on your way out?" He shook his head as he pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. "That's basic stuff, Maximoff- come on."

She didn't take the wad of cash he tried to pass her. "That is too much."

"So you're gunna starve until you can rob a bank or something? Don't be stupid. Take it."

"I don't want your money."

"But you need it." He was clearly running out of patience. "You want your pride, or a meal now and again?"

"I want to leave."

"Still gotta live."

Wanda clenched her jaw and took the money.

"I'm sure I will see you on the television, Hawkeye."

"I'm sure I won't see you unless you want me to."

She reached back and took the rucksack. She thought she could leave before he thought of anything else to say, but the low sitting car was hard to climb out of.

"You're wrong, anyway. I don't think I have to take care of you like that. I know we both got guilt, but that's why I want you to stay. When you've got shit to work through, sometimes it's nice to be around someone who knows the territory."

"I don't need a replacement." She knew it was childish and petty, but she said it anyway. Still, she was perched on the edge of the seat, only one foot out of the car.

"You're allowed to care about more than one person in your whole life, Wanda."

She stared out the windshield, trying to decide if she was angry at him for saying this. He didn't know who they were- how it was. No one did. She didn't need the Hawkeye and his farmhouse and family and lazy old horse. When she had Pietro, all they needed was a piece of bread and a doorway to sleep in out of the snow. She hadn't even decided how best to be angry at him when he sighed.

"I'm sorry. That's not fair. But I wish you'd reconsider."

Wanda hesitated, not over what he was saying to her, but over a thought that had just occurred to her.

"SHIELD." He voice was hallow and dull as the truth dawned on her. "They will... 'keep track' of me, won't they?"

He didn't try to deny it and she was grateful. "Officially, SHIELD doesn't exist anymore. But- yeah. If you're lucky, your shadow would be someone like Mae. She'd give you your space."

Wanda swallowed, trying to ignore the way her pulse was pounding in her skull.

"Were you... assigned to me?"

"No. But if you hadn't come here or stayed at HQ, someone would have been."

She sat back in the seat, thinking this over. A life alone, being followed by some faceless agent. It sounded like the nightmares she had of Hydra finding them if they tried to leave Sokovia.

"Why can't they just leave us alone?"

He sighed again. He sounded tired. He almost always sounded tired.

"It's... new. The whole superpowers thing. Everybody and their mother has an opinion about how you all should be handled." When she opened her mouth, he spoke over her. "Don't be stupid. I'm not saying you and Rogers should be locked up or anything. But this is the real world. What if one of them Inhumans get hurt and ends up in the hospital? Doctors, police officers, hell- teachers in schools have to be informed and prepared to meet everyone's needs. And right now, no one knows shit. There's no official policy or study. So- no. They can't just leave you all alone."

"Inhuman..." she rolled the word around on her tongue, trying to decide if it sounded like an insult or not. "Is that what they call me?"

"Not... not you. Or Rogers or Banner. They're a specific group. Their powers come from... something else. You haven't heard about them on your news?"

"Maybe. We... we were very focused for the past year. If it was not the Avengers and SHIELD, we were not interested."

He nodded. "Well, there's a good handful of them out there. Enough that all the world governments are getting together to start talking policy. And we- everyone's kind of thinking that whatever they decide is going to extend to us. And you."

Wanda processed this for several minutes. She should be feeling more. But she hadn't had a plan beyond leaving the farm anyway, so the rest of the world becoming less desirable wasn't much of a loss.

"I was going to tell you," his voice sounded gravely and thick, as though it was a great effort to push through everything he had to say. "About how you would be tailed. And-" she heard him swallow and it was enough to kill all resolve she had to leave. "And about what happened- in Sokovia."

"Can-" her breath shook and suddenly all she wanted was a hot bath. "Can you bring me back to your home now?"

They were turning in to the driveway when he finally spoke again.

"I wanna ask you something," his voice was clear again, but measured. "And- I don't want you to feel any pressure. If you want, just say the word and we can pretend I never said anything."

Wanda waited for him to go on. She stared at the house as it grew larger and larger in the headlights.

"My... my kids. They would have grown up without a dad if it weren't for your brother." He said it quickly, like he might lose his nerve otherwise. "Laura and I... we talked about it. We want to honor that somehow. We... we were wondering if it would be alright with you if Nathaniel's middle name was Pietro."

"Ha! I knew the old man would warm up to me."

Wanda couldn't suppress the laugh that tore out of her throat. Clint jumped at the sound, rounding on her in shock. Wanda slowly lowered the hand that had flown to her mouth, trying to fight down the mixed humor and feeling of sheer panic that was rising up in her chest.

"I'm sorry. I just- he would be unbearably proud, if he knew someone was named after him. He would have never shut up about it."

Clint let out a surprised laugh as well.

"That- uh- that doesn't really surprise me," he hesitated. "So... that doesn't sound like a 'no.'"

Wanda thought about it. She even considered being angry. It might feel good to scream at him- to bury her panic over what she had heard and he clearly hadn't. But she doubted she had the energy to shout.

"Yes. That would be... very nice."

"Thank you, Wanda. We'll turn in the paperwork tomorrow."

Wanda nodded and tried to be casual as she checked the backseat while unbuckling her seatbelt, breathing no easier when she found it empty.

~

"Hurry up, Pietro! You're too slow!"

"I am not!"

She stuck her tongue out over her shoulder as she grabbed the lowest branch of the tree in the park. She tested each branch before pulling herself up onto them.

"Grab the same branches as me," she shouted down at him.

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Seconds later, there was a snap, a yell, and a thud. Wanda looked down to check that he was alright before letting herself laugh at him.

"I told you!"

"What are you doing up there anyway?"

He was acting far too cool to climb trees, leaning against the trunk and picking apart blades of grass. It's what he did whenever he embarrassed himself and didn't want to admit it.

Wanda finally made it as high as she could and spread her arms out, closing her eyes and as the breeze lifted her hair to flow out behind her.

"I'm flying."

Chapter Text

Clint must have told Laura everything, because halfway through their breakfast together, she grabbed Wanda's hand.

"Thank you. It means so much to us. I-" she was about to say something about how sorry she was. About how Wanda was so strong to be able to go on after all she had been through. About how she didn't understand what happened- not completely, but she wanted to help in any way she could. But she held herself back, and again, Wanda found herself grateful.

"Um-" she didn't know where to look so she focused on their hands on the table. "Thank you."

The screen door opened and slammed shut as Clint returned from bringing Cooper and Lila to their day camp that had started a few days after their last day of the school year. As well as, presumably, registering Nathaniel's full name with the proper authorities.

"Stop scaring her, Laura. No one likes a sappy moment before their coffee."

Laura scowled at him and let go of Wanda's hand.

"It was only for a second. I won't be sappy in town today."

"Town?" Wanda raised her eyebrows, but tried not to act too surprised or apprehensive. She liked Laura, but most of their interaction occurred in a very confined space under specific circumstances. Particularly, in the house, and usually with Clint and/or the children either present or nearby. Spending time away from the house and worse, alone with the woman, sounded like a serious step she wasn't sure she wanted to take.

Laura winked at her. "Girls' day. I thought you should pick out some of your own clothes. And there's this nice cafe that does cute little cakes. You have to go there at least once."

Despite her reservations, the outing was an enjoyable one. They tried a department store first, but when Wanda had showed little interest in the conservative styles on offer, Laura took her down the street to a shop that smelled like pine and cigarette smoke, full of second hand clothes and outdated appliances. Here, Wanda had better luck finding dark but airy fabrics and even a few pieces of jewelry. She had missed her dresses and rings. She felt more herself with fabric swishing around her legs and little metallic clicks accompanying every movement of her hands.

"You have a very distinct style," Laura said once they were sitting in the cafe, eating delicate cakes with frosting flowers and chocolate shavings. "I don't know what I expected, but I like it."

Wanda shrugged. "I like dresses. Thank you for taking me out. I don't- I don't know if the Avengers kept my clothes."

"I can't imagine they would have thrown them out."

"There..." Wanda swallowed and stirred at a bit of frosting on her plate. "There may have been blood on them."

Laura had the grace not to reply. Wanda ate a few more bites before she could speak evenly again.

"I hope they did not destroy my dress. That was my favorite dress. I can never find any like it."

"What made it so special?"

It was special because she had wanted it for months. Every day, she would pause in front of the shop window and stare at it. It wasn't a ballgown or even a cocktail dress- it was a light cotton number with simple floral embroidery near the neck. But it was made for her and she ached for it like it was a person she missed.

"It was... a different shape," she flipped a hand vaguely, unsure how to explain. "The... middle part?" She leaned back and touched her waist, then moved her hand down her hip. "It was here instead."

"Oh!" Laura snapped her fingers, trying to think of a word. "Like a flapper?"

"I don't know-"

"Drop waist!" She had finally remembered the word. "It's called a 'drop waist,' I think. That would be hard to find others. It's not a very popular style right now."

Wanda nodded, looking down at her food. She had avoided saying it when she started, but now it was coming out of her mouth easily, as if she had meant to say it all along.

"Pietro stole it for me because he knew I wanted it. I don't know how. It was before. We only stole small things then. But he got the dress. In the right size, even."

Laura watched her quietly for a moment, a small frown on her face. Wanda's mind was elsewhere, and so she was surprised at the other woman's words when she finally spoke.

"I have a morbid curiosity about your brother," her words were so frank, Wanda stared at her. "I'm sure it's selfish, but-" Laura sighed and stirred the tea she had ordered with her cake. "There's a part of Clint I don't get to see. He comes back after these missions and there's things he talks about but won't say everything. He's lost people on missions before, but this time he came back different."

Wanda just stared, unsure if she was even supposed to respond to this. Laura noticed the look and smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry. It's just- It's bad enough being the wife of a superhero. I teach kindergarten and everyone at PTA meetings loves my hummus. Clint fights aliens and his best work-friend is ex-KGB. And if that isn't enough, he comes home and I can't even help when he's right next to me."

Wanda found herself actually smiling. It seemed impossible, but her cheeks were tight and her lips stretched over her teeth.

"You don't like feeling useless."

Laura returned the smile and shrugged.

"Who would?"

"Who would?"

There was enough chatter and echo in the cafe for Wanda to pretend she had only heard one voice say it.

~

The Black Widow came to visit a few days later. Wanda went upstairs the moment she looked out the window and saw the red-headed woman coming up the sidewalk. She could hear the pounding on the door and shouting even upstairs.

"Hey! Barton! Where's my Godson?"

Clint's heavy footsteps rattling the picture frames in the hall. "Calm down- you lunatic!"

They talked loudly- the three of them. Wanda tried to ignore their uproarious laughter and shouting while she finished what she needed to do upstairs. When she came back down to the kitchen, the Widow and the Bartons were having coffee and reminiscing about things that had happened years before Clint and Laura had met. The Widow held Nathaniel, and there was something perverse about the image.

"I did not scream!"

"He did. Honestly, it's the only reason I went with him in the end. You can trust people who panic. I didn't trust the SHIELD agent who said my life could be different. But I trusted the spy that screamed like a little girl the moment he was made."

The Widow looked up as she finished her story and looked unsurprised to see Wanda standing at the bottom of the stairs, backpack slung over her shoulder. "There you are, Maximoff. You're packed already? I'm not done with my coffee."

Laura looked up as well and raked her eyes over the strap of the backpack, the tennis shoes on Wanda's feet, and the long jeans and jacket she wore.

"Wanda- what-"

"I am going with Miss Romanov," she held eye contact with the Widow, who looked amused at being called 'Miss.' Clint continued sipping his coffee, also looking unperturbed by this pronouncement. "I would like to train. With the Avengers."

~

"Wanda- Pietro- this is Carla Binet. She is a journalist from Paris."

The stranger had a strong, vigorous handshake. Her eyes lingered on Wanda, even as she turned to shake Pietro's hand as well.

"So good to meet you," her accent was strong, but her Magyar fluent. "Everyone I have spoken to says that you two are the ones to talk to if I want to learn about the protest movements of your city."

"Who, us?" Pietro grinned and pulled a nearby chair over, sitting in it backwards. He fitted his chin on the back and stared up at the reporter through his unruly hair. "We are just angry teenagers, shouting in the street."

Wanda smirked along with him and crossed her arms. The reporter was clearly trying to blend in on the street, but her utility trousers were too tight and her hooded sweatshirt too clean. She was out of her depth.

"Angry teenagers shouting in the street are the reason change happens, historically."

"Do you hear that, Pietro? We are changing the world."

The woman did not seem at all cowed by their snide tone.

"I was wondering if I could sit in on your meeting and take some notes, perhaps a few pictures."

"Our meetings are open to anyone but soldiers."

"I wanted to get your permission."

"Our permission means nothing. We are not in charge."

"They tell me no one is in charge. So I'm asking you as representatives of the movement."

Pietro glanced over at Wanda. She shrugged and turned, taking a wooden dowel from the corner of the room and hitting it on the table to start the group meeting.

The reporter scribbled in a notebook for the duration of the meeting. Occasionally, she pulled out a camera and took photos, usually of Wanda- even when she wasn't the one talking.

They had a full night of planning the last details of the next day's protest demonstration. They pooled together their collective knives and brass rings to spread more evenly amongst the group. One of the older protesters gave a lecture on not using weapons unless your life was in danger. Some of the younger kids smirked at this. Wanda murmured to Pietro, asking him to talk to them individually. They didn't understand. The warning was not made out of compassion for the occupying soldiers. Wanda had seen too many protesters pull weapons only to drop with holes in their chests and faces before they could use them. But the younger members of the group listened to Pietro. He matched their raw anger and excitability, but knew when to listen to Wanda and the older protesters.

When the meeting broke, he crossed to the gaggle of fourteen-year-olds to warn them about the weapons again.

"You are an inspiring leader."

"You already know no one here is a leader." Wanda collected the drying painted signs and leaned them up against the wall of the basement where the group met for their meetings. The reporter was still looking at her, lingering at her side.

"But they listen to you," the reporter smiled. "There are men and women twice your age in this room. And they all look up when you speak. You command respect."

Wanda wasn't sure what to say to this, so she shrugged.

"Did you get what you needed for your report?"

"For a start. I have a film crew that will be with me tomorrow for the protest."

Wanda frowned. "It will be dangerous."

The reporter didn't seem fazed. Wanda wasn't sure if it was naivety or bravery.

"People should know what is happening here. I want to help."

Wanda kept silent.

"Where will you sleep tonight?"

"Here, until the soldiers patrol. Then we will go to the backdoor of a restaurant that gives us stale bread in the morning." It was their usual schedule.

"You should have a better night's sleep than that before tomorrow. Why don't you come stay with me at the hotel?"

"Really?" Wanda raised her eyebrows. "You would let us sleep on your floor?"

The reporter's smile flickered and she laughed slightly.

"No- I guess-" she laughed again and shook her head, her eyes straying to Pietro as he finished talking with the younger kids and came back to Wanda's side. "Never mind, Miss. I wish you luck tomorrow."

"Thank you."

Pietro smirked as the woman left, looking slightly put out.

"She is kind of strange, don't you think?"

To her surprise, he laughed knowingly and tugged at a lock of her hair.

"She wanted you, Ves'tacha."

Wanda laughed as well, incredulous, and pushed his shoulder.

"No she didn't. That's stupid."

"She did. You couldn't see?"

Wanda frowned. He wasn't teasing her. She wasn't used to him grinning at her like this. Like he understood something she didn't. It was highly irritating. Maybe this was why he rolled his eyes and snapped when she looked at him that way. She shook her head and muttered something about being too young for anyone decent to want her that way.

"We are sixteen, drágám," he raised his eyebrows. "Anyone can want us any way they want."

Wanda grimaced and refused to acknowledge that her face was burning. It's not like she wasn't aware they had passed the age of consent earlier that year. But she still didn't feel ready to think about that sort of thing in terms of either of them. Not that she didn't know about the girls. And the men. But whenever the subject of Pietro's lovers came up, they fought, so she just gathered her rucksack and coat.

"Come on. We need to rest for tomorrow."

Chapter Text

They stayed until the children were home from their day camp. Laura was the only one who seemed surprised by the news that Wanda was leaving for sure this time. She made sure Wanda had packed every article of clothing that she had bought for her and even tried to offer her some other things that weren't hers.

When the children came home, they spent nearly an hour exclaiming and chattering away at their 'Auntie Nat.' The Black Widow seemed slightly stiff with them, but they didn't mind. What was clearly read as discomfort by adults came over as 'cool' to a nine and five year old. When their parents informed them that not only was Auntie Nat leaving soon after she arrived, but Wanda would be going with her, Wanda was surprised to find they both seemed disappointed. She hadn't dealt directly with them much, even since Laura and Nathaniel came back from the hospital. But it seemed they had grown accustomed to her presence and both gave her quick, shy hugs as she stood near the door. Lila pulled on her shirt until she bent down next to the girl, who whispered as quietly as she could in her ear.

"I didn't tell anyone that you're magic," the girl hissed proudly. "Not even Daddy and Mommy. I didn't tell anybody. I'm good at keeping secrets."

Wanda nodded and thanked her, then turned to the children's parents.

"I... thank you. For-"

"I'll see you in a couple weeks," Clint clapped her shoulder and dropped back to the kitchen to continue his conversation with the Widow.

Laura rolled her eyes, then hugged Wanda tight.

"I know you'll be busy training," she murmured. "But promise you'll call? Not every week or anything- but keep me posted?"

Wanda nodded into her shoulder and tried to deny that the idea of someone wanting to hear from her after she left was new.

She pretended to be asleep for most of the drive back to New York. It wasn't really such a terrible stretch. The Black Widow didn't seem to need sleep. She only stopped a handful of times for gas and bathrooms over the thirteen hour drive. Wanda slept through one of the stops, but woke up to find a bag of potato chips and can of iced tea on her lap.

She wondered if the Widow hated her. She wouldn't blame her. The things she had seen in the woman's head were horrifying and private. And Wanda hadn't just made her think of them again- she had forced her to relive them.

They arrived just as the sun was coming up the next day. Wanda realized that she didn't actually remember what the facility looked like as they pulled up the main drive. It was relatively unassuming from a distance. All it consisted of was a long flat complex of buildings made of concrete and glass. But there was likely more security than the capital and the glass was probably bulletproof.

"Rise, shine and quit faking," the Widow said as she pulled the silver sports car into an underground garage. "Home sweet home."

As if on cue, there was a distant boom as they got out of the car. Wanda's mind went completely blank and she dropped to the ground, her arms covering her head. The explosion was far away, but bombs always came in groups, always moving closer.

"It's training," the Widow's voice was flat and dispassionate, cutting through the blankness that had overtaken her senses. "Not an attack."

The words did not register over Wanda's pounding heart, but she slowly came back to the present- back to reason. She felt like she should have been embarrassed, but couldn't quite manage it. She stood up. The Widow was looking at her. Not staring, just looking.

"You good now?"

Slightly annoyed at this non-reaction, Wanda nodded and followed the woman across the lot. They were as silent in the elevator as in the car.

"New DNA detected. Searching SHIELD database."

Wanda looked up at the mechanical female voice that filled the small space.

"Match found. Please confirm: Wanda Maximoff, human experimentation subject."

"Name: confirm," the Widow spoke clearly. "Status-" she shot a look at Wanda. "Temporary resident- slash- to be determined."

Wanda didn't disagree with the description, but scowled at her anyway, just because she felt like she should.

She didn't see any of the other residents until the evening. She assumed that this was deliberate. The Widow showed her directly to a small apartment that would be hers. It was clean and spacious, like a room in a magazine. There was nothing she needed or wanted that wasn't there, but it still felt empty. She arranged the clothes Laura had bought her in the dresser and closet. It felt excessive to use both, but she was pleased to see not only a wide variety of athletic gear in hear size, but her dresses, shawls and accessories from Sokovia arranged neatly in the closet. Even the red jacket she had worn during the battle hung at the end. Evidently the Black Widow no longer expected to get it back.

Wanda ran her hand down the fabric of her favorite dress. Someone had taken great care to remove the blood. Even the threads of the embroidery were just as white as when she first wore it.

There was a knock on the door.

"One minute!"

She shut the closet door as if the clothes were something private and shameful before running a hand through her hair and opening the door. She ignored the flash in the corner of her eye, knowing it would not be a good first impression to whip wildly around at nothing. Because it was nothing. She knew it was.

The Captain was wearing the kind of smile you put on for people that you expected were about to make your life difficult.

"Hello, Miss Maximoff."

"Captain."

His smile was more a wince now. "Steve. I mean, it's up to you, but we usually only use call signs in training or on the field."

Wanda nodded. "Wanda, then."

His smile gained maybe half a degree of sincerity. "Wanda. I don't want to bother you when you're just settling in, but I want to talk. I can come back later if you're-"

Wanda shook her head. "I can speak now."

"He probably has paperwork for you to sign."

She bit her tongue and concentrated on the Captain's words.

"We have a regular training schedule. We're not military, and we're not SHIELD, but we work hard. And I feel like I should warn you that you will not be going on any missions until you've proven you're capable of working with the team at large as well as following orders."

"God- punch him, please."

The Captain was looking at her as though he expected her to protest. She didn't.

"I understand."

He gave her a very odd look and shifted slightly.

"We- some of us have contacts in Europe. We asked them to make some calls... look around..."

Wanda frowned. He was nervous. He wasn't sure how she would react to what he was about to say, but had the hope it would please her.

"I do not know what you mean, Ca- Steve."

"You know what-" he pulled up an unconvincing smile. "We can deal with that later. We start group training at 7:15 sharp, so I'll let you get to bed. I'll see you in the first hall outside the living facility. And eat a big breakfast."

She wished him goodnight and shut the door. The light was on in the bathroom. Pausing after she closed the door, Wanda could hear faint metallic clicks. She crossed her living space slowly and leaned against the door frame.

"What are you doing?"

He glanced over from staring at his reflection in the mirror as he trimmed off the white ends of his hair.

"You said so yourself -" he twisted awkwardly, trying to see the back. "It looked stupid. 'You look like a grey old man.' That is what you said."

"But you loved it." Her voice was quiet and hollow. She couldn't even bring herself to be surprised or upset by what she was seeing and hearing anymore.

"I'm tired of it. Will you help me with the back?"

Wanda stayed where she was while he carefully clipped, leaving himself as much length as possible.

"I didn't mean it. When I said it looked stupid. I was only teasing."

"I know that."

She watched him in silence for some time. The mess of white hair on the vanity continued to grow.

"You're not really here."

He glanced over, a small smile quirking his lips.

"I know that."

~

They looked over the papers, their eyes constantly straying to the operation table. Wanda felt her face growing hotter and hotter, her heart rising up in her throat.

"So, what do you think?"

She looked the man dead in the eye, trying to control her shaking hands.

"I think all that's missing is our yellow stars."

Pietro was thinking the same, she knew, but he couldn't speak. The man continued to keep his calm, pleasant expression.

"I'll take that as a no," he swept an arm back towards the door. "Of course, we are sad to see you go."

They stepped toward the door. Pietro grabbed her hand. He was shaking in rage. She probably was too. The door shut behind them and they were in a long, well lit room full of stretchers. Wanda felt her stomach turn and pulled him to walk faster.

"Shoot the boy- on my mark."

The words took a moment to register. What did register was his hand being torn from hers as a guard hit him. They both yelled and one of the guards grabbed her from behind, locking her arms as another kicked him down to his knees.

"Hands behind your head!"

A feral scream tore itself from Wanda's throat as she struggled against the man's thick arms.

"By all means, if you wish your brother to die more quickly, keep struggling, Miss Maximoff."

Wanda forced herself to hold still, though it burned her skin to obey him. She could only see the Pietro's back- hands shaking on the back of his head. Blood dripped from his lip where they hit him. She wanted to claw the eyes out of the guard that did it.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to leave after all," the man's tone and demeanor hadn't changed. He sounded like he had said this many times. He probably had. Later, Wanda wondered just how many homeless youths had been unceremoniously shot in that hall. But in that moment she didn't care. "Our work here is very sensitive. We cannot have any breaches in security. Now- it is your choice, Miss Maximoff. You've clearly established yourself as the speaker for yourself and your twin, so speak now. Will you both leave this institution to be buried with others who have denied our work, or will you give you and your brother a chance?"

His blood still dripped. She could almost hear it, under her own rattling breath.

"Ves'tacha-" his voice was broken and weak, speaking a mix of languages that they used as their own personal code. "I'm- I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Drágám. Forgive me- forgive-"

"Quiet!"

The guard holding the gun nudged him in the back and his whole body tensed. Wanda wanted the man dead. She'd never wanted anything more than to taste that guard's blood. Fear and hate were turning her into a wild animal- a mad thing.

"What will it be, Miss Maximoff?"

She took a deep breath and spoke their code language. These animals did not deserve to understand what they said to one another. "I will get us out of here, Pietro. I will fix this. I promise. Do I ever break my promises?"

He risked turning his head to look her in the eye. "Nem, Drágám."

Chapter Text

It was two months before Steve let her incorporate her powers into group training. He promised that the new drill would be low pressure and that no one knew what they had been working on in their one-on-one sessions. He said they all had enough training to ignore her and continue with their own drills. She didn't need her powers to know this was a lie. Agent Romanov and Rhodey were both watching her even more closely than usual. Sam shot her a wink and a thumbs up before he started stretching. They were like teenagers, she had found. Secrets did not remain so for long.

Not that her powers were a secret from the team. Even those who had not been in Sokovia (really, only Sam) had seen footage. And, though Steve did not approve, she used the mist for small tasks sometimes. She felt more confident that way, when she knew she could do something as small and delicate as lift grains of salt on the table back into the shaker. It made it easier to trust herself when Steve asked her to try out tactics in their one-on-one sessions.

She did not know what to make of Steve. Sam said it was because they were too much alike, but sometimes she suspected he only said this to see her grimace. If nothing else, she had to admit she trusted Steve. There was no residual feelings of bitterness over the vision she had given him on the cargo ship when he looked at her. He was weary of her powers and of her control. He didn't believe she had mastered being able to reign in her powers when upset and he waited for the day she had a real breakdown. But he believed she was trying and he genuinely wanted her to succeed on the team. She wasn't so sure about everyone.

The only team member Wanda could say she liked- actually liked as a friend and colleague- was Sam. She could talk to Sam without feeling like he was waiting for her to break apart at the seams. Maybe it was ignorance. He had not been in Sokovia. He had not seen her at her worst. This alone felt like a betrayal. Just like the cold, empty feeling that took hold of her whenever she caught herself smiling- or even now sometimes, laughing- she sometimes felt a rush of disgust with herself after speaking to Sam. It felt like she was deceiving him. She had never before had a friend who had never known Pietro, and never would. It was like Sam didn't know half of her soul. Like she was actively concealing half of her merits and flaws from him out of spite or self-preservation. It also felt greedy, to have something her twin did not.

"Alright, Wanda- just like we practiced," Steve picked up the weighted plastic disc he used as a practice shield. She had to shake herself from her thoughts. "Everyone- group spar E."

They started the drill. Wanda focused on blocking Sam's punches, just like every other morning, until Steve's shield flew at her. She turned on the spot and brought up a shield of mist. The plastic disc bounced off and flew across the gym to shatter against the opposite wall.

No one even tried to continue the drill. Sam whooped and dropped his guard. Both Colonel Rhodes and Agent Romanov were smiling, as though they weren't supposed to be swapping choke holds that moment. Well, the Widow's expression was closer to a smirk, but Wanda would take what she could get.

"Idiots. That is nothing. You will give them something to be truly excited about soon enough."

"Is the drill complete?" The Vision asked serenely from where he hovered a foot from the ground.

When Romanov shrugged and Sam broke across their sparring line to clap Wanda's shoulder, Steve sighed, fighting down a smile.

"Why don't we take five?"

The Widow and Rhodes started up a light argument about tactics while the Vision floated off to some unknown activity in the corner of the space.

"That was good, Wanda, really. We just need to be able to incorporate your moves fully into our strategies. We want to get you to a point where you can move between your powers and physical training without thinking."

"Oh come on, Cap- just let us enjoy how cool that was," Sam threw an arm around Wanda's shoulders and gave her a celebratory little shake that would have bothered her, coming from anyone else. "I want her on my team, okay? When things get tough I want the woman blockin bullets at my back."

"We're all on the same team, Sam," Steve was giving them both the sort of smile he gave when he didn't want to ruin a good mood, but had to. "We can work on team-up strategies later. For now, I just want Wanda to get used to using her powers in our pre-established group formations." As if sensing that he was about to see two sets of eyes rolling at him, he smiled, more genuinely than before. "It was amazing, Wanda. We'll work on more, I promise."

Sam still rolled his eyes as Steve turned to settle whatever Rhodes and Romanov were disagreeing on.

"He's pleased," he informed Wanda firmly. "He's just in leader mode now. What else can you do?"

Steve didn't even reprimand her when she showed Sam that, with a little concentration and effort, she could lift herself a few inches off the ground.

~

"The team is very excited to have you using your particular skills as a part of the group."

Wanda nodded and concentrated on her black bishop until it slid smoothly a few places, trailed with mist. The Vision was much easier to talk to alone. In a group, his complete lack of social graces made for almost laughable awkwardness. But one-on-one, there was no pressure of expectation. It was like talking to a child, or a mad person.

"Do you find it more difficult to focus when there are more people in the immediate vicinity?"

"No. I do not-" she tried to think of a way to explain. He didn't interrupt or rush her. "It's not like... like hearing. Or- I know I call it reading, but it is not that either. It is feeling. And now that I-" she collected her thoughts again before going on. "Now that I can control it, it must be.... deliberate. I do not hear or feel lines of thought or emotions just by standing next to a person. But things are easier the better I know someone. I can see images from the team. But it takes more effort with someone I have never met."

"Is it the same for giving images and feelings?"

"No- giving is easier. I can give a small feeling and their mind will take it and.... and turn it into something they already feel or remember. That is the easiest to do. I don't even need to read the image their mind creates for them."

"And what is the hardest?"

Even if he had been a normal human who knew social etiquette, he had no way of knowing what a personal question this was. And she knew that if she refused to answer, he would only go on to the next thing he wanted to know. The Vision was a collector. He only wanted to add more information to the cabinets and shelves of his mind. But she also knew that there was very little risk of any information she chose to share with him ever leaving those shelves.

"The hardest is that... the better I know one person, the harder it is. I mean- it is easier to read them, but then... it becomes more complicated." She concentrated hard on the chessboard so she didn't have to look at him. "It is harder, to keep us separate."

He mulled this over as they played a few more moves.

"Do you mean that your minds become one?"

Wanda grimaced. "No. That sounds- no. But it is harder to tell if I am reading or feeling for myself. It feels wrong. To be linked to anyone else like that."

He nodded. "What you mean is that it did not bother you to have such a connection with your twin, but you do not like it with anyone else?"

The others would have inferred this and tactfully stayed silent. But the Vision had no use for inferred knowledge. He needed confirmation.

"Yes. That is just what I mean."

"It was not different from how we were before. You said. It was not much more than always thinking of one another."

She planned out her strategy, ignoring the third presence in the room. She had gotten good at that. The Vision continued to nod and she could tell he was not going to drop the subject. Her powers were his favorite topic of conversation. Wanda had lost track of their game and she knew he would win soon. It mattered little to her. The games had been her idea, originally, when she had thought he would expect social graces like eye contact. When she didn't know what to expect of him at all.

She had been most anxious about dealing with him than any other member of the team. Even the man who called himself something as horrible as War Machine. When she first saw the thing that would later be called the Vision, he had no more thoughts than a toaster. Then, he had a mind of destruction and madness- just a reflection of his maker. Then, just a short time later, his mind was fully formed, and the most complex she had ever ventured to read. Wanda couldn't deny that it had interested her at the time, but she didn't have much energy for complex or interesting anymore.

"I do not understand grief," he finally went on flatly. "Will you explain it to me?"

Like when Clint had asked for the use of Pietro's name, she considered being angry. It would be easy. But she still had the warmth of the success of the morning's training session to carry her mood.

"It is not... it is sadness. But not for that one sad thing that happened. It is sadness for all the things that will not happen because of that one sad thing."

He nodded. "Do you often think of how different things would be here with your brother?"

"As if I am not." He did not like the Vision. The Vibranium man and his even, cool voice and thoughts made him nervous.

"Yes. Always."

"Or do you wonder if you would be here at all?"

"Both," she made a feeble attempt at avoiding the check he was about to put her in.

"I think," he spoke slowly, as though still forming his thoughts on the subject. "I think that I would be unhappy, if you were not here."

Wanda looked up, raising her eyebrows. "Are you programmed to feel emotions now?"

Sometimes she took advantage of his lack of social knowledge to say rude things without fear of consequence. But today, he frowned, closer to offence than he had ever appeared before.

"I am not programmed, as such. But I am learning."

Wanda wondered if she should feel unsettled by this.

~

They were thirteen when Wanda insisted they start learning English.

"Why even bother?" Pietro sneered as she pulled out the book she'd taken from the library. "They never would spend time to learn our languages."

Wanda sighed as she found her page. She must have explained this to him hundreds of times.

"We must learn everything about him. That is easier if we speak English."

"Why do we-"

"So we can find a way to avenge our parents."

He scowled. "Don't need to speak English to kill someone."

They had decided on 'kill' early. They were young and their grief had turned to anger quickly on the cold, wet streets.

"And if it is so easy to go to America, find, and kill Tony Stark, why haven't you done it yet?"

He ignored her for so long, she was able to get almost four pages into the section on verb tenses. He rarely let her study with no interruption for so long.

"Why don't we talk about them, Wanda?"

She pretended she was focused on her work and had misunderstood.

"About Stark? We always talk about him."

"About Mama and Apa," his temper was rising, she could hear it. "You always say 'our parents' now- like you barely remember them!"

"Of course I remember them!" She snapped, closing her book and slamming it down on the ground next to her. "Why do you think I try so hard to think of ways to get closer to finding Stark while you sit there and-"

"It is not about them when you plan this! It is about him! It is like you hate him more than you ever loved them!"

"Shut up! Just because I do not cry every night-"

"I do not cry every-"

"Yes but you always have to bring up the worst things! It's like you like being sad!"

"I have to remember them! Because you won't!"

She didn't speak to him the rest of the day. If she had to admit it, it was because he was right.

Chapter Text

Frustrated with her science homework, Wanda closed down the tablet she used for her schoolwork and laid back in bed.

"FRIDAY, call the Bartons's home phone."

"One moment, Miss Maximoff."

It only rang twice before the line was picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Hello, Hawkeye."

"Oh- hey Wanda. How's it goin?"

"Very well," it felt strange to talk to him on the phone, almost formal. She still hadn't gotten used to it. "How are you and your family?"

"Great- I'd go get Laura but she's asleep with the baby."

"That's fine." Wanda didn't really know how to say what she wanted to, now that she was talking to him. It felt childish and arrogant. "I just... I wanted to be sure all of you were... alright."

"Nat says you're flying in training now."

Wanda hoped her laugh didn't sound too relieved.

"Yes. It is going very well. Sam is very offended. I think he liked it better with Steve and Agent Romanov when he was the only one who could fly."

"Well, now it seems like us groundlings are in the minority. And your shields are getting stronger?"

"Yes. And I am almost finished with my schoolwork."

She said it quickly, before she lost her nerve. She didn't know why she was so anxious. But she didn't talk about it with the other team members, as though it were an embarrassing secret that only Clint and his family were privy to.

"Really? Even though you're training? You've had the time?"

"I just have a few more lessons."

"Nice work. I'm proud of you for stickin with it."

"He is not our father, Ves'tacha."

"I know!" she snapped before she could stop herself. "I mean-"

But Clint was laughing. He must have interpreted her raised voice as one of excitement. Wanda tried to rearrange her thoughts back on the conversation, controlling her breathing with difficulty. She never did that. She never replied as though he were actually there. At least not when others could hear her.

"Well, let me know when you take your final test. I'm sure Laura will want to come up and celebrate."

"Of course."

"I'll probably be back before then anyway."

It took a moment for her to register what he meant.

"Back... here? With the Avengers?"

"No- back to my underground punk band. What do you think?"

She smiled at the ceiling, glad he couldn't see how pleased she was to hear this.

"I'm sure you will be very out of shape. I will be sure to see your first spar with Agent Romanov."

~

Wanda had made a deal early on with Steve. As long as she saw a therapist once every week and informed someone if she had any physical health problems besides sore muscles from training, she didn't have to be examined by a doctor. Steve was reluctant, but it seemed he had expected her to fight the idea of therapy sessions harder, and her mental health was in greater doubt than the physical.

She hated the therapist. All the woman wanted was for Wanda to say horrible things about him. She wanted her to say that their relationship was more than it should have been. That they touched each other more than they should have. And that one of them had wanted it more than the other.

The last was what bothered her the most. The suggestion of impropriety itself didn't bother her all that much. They always made people uncomfortable, even as children. It didn't matter to them. There were things Wanda could say that she was sure would confirm the therapist's suspicions completely. Reading with just a sheet slung over her lap while he washed their clothes across the room, completely bare. Sharing a bed, when they had the great fortune of just one. Soft kisses to one another's lips- the way their parents had kissed them, but made others stare, when it was between adult siblings. The way she didn't feel safe unless some part of him was pressed up against some part of her.

She knew how it would sound. She didn't really care what the therapist thought, but if she knew those things, she would want to talk about them more, so Wanda stayed silent.

The thing she could not stand was the sideways hints that one had acted upon the other in this way. As if she would ever hurt him that way. As if he even had the capacity to hurt her. She had to concentrate to keep the mist from forming and crackling between her fingers every time the therapist steered their conversations in that direction.

"I don't want to see therapist anymore."

Steve sighed and Wanda could tell he was drumming up every ounce of his considerable patience. She'd cornered him in the living space every everyone else had gone to their rooms to shower after morning training. She hoped that the lack of distractions would help her case.

"Why is that, Wanda?"

"She knows nothing. She only makes me angry."

He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Is the reason she knows nothing that you won't tell her anything?"

She scowled. If she had to admit it, Wanda was starting to like the Captain, but that only made it harder when he said things she didn't like.

"Sam can be my therapist. He actually helps."

"That's because he's your friend. Friends help each other."

"Then we agree. Sam should be my therapist."

Steve shook his head. She had known the discussion was over early on, but she had still wanted to make her case.

"No. He shouldn't. The reason you don't like your therapist is because she pushes you. It's her job to push you. If Sam was your therapist, he would have to push, and you would push back. And I'm afraid that that your friendship and your teamwork in the field would suffer."

He was right and she couldn't forgive him for it. Wanda sulked in the living area long after he had left.

"He's right."

"I know he's right."

She curled up in a tight ball on the sofa, hugging her stomach. She wasn't going back to the therapist. She'd find some way to avoid it and hide her absence from the Captain. She must have fallen asleep, because it took her awhile to register the voice speaking to her.

"Hey, Max- you awake?"

Sam always called her "Max" off the field. He said her given name was too familiar for teammates, her full surname too long for friends, and her callsign too much like an insult off the field. So he called her "Max" and she would never admit just how charming she found it.

Wanda sat up and tried to blink the sleep from her eyes, hoping he wouldn't notice. She didn't much like the idea of anyone seeing her unconscious. Perhaps a fear held over from sleeping on the streets for so long.

"Yes- I am awake."

"You want something to eat?" He jerked his head back toward the kitchen. "I was just going to heat up some freezer waffles."

"Yes, thank you."

He came to sit with her on the couch a short time later.

"Thank you."

She took the plate he offered her and poked at the contents skeptically. Wanda had grown accustomed to the different food at Barton's house, but now that she lived in the headquarters, there was another change in her diet. There was no resident chef in their quarters and none of them had the time or energy to cook fresh meals, so nearly everything they ate was pre-packaged and reheated. Not that she had eaten so well since the bombings. But now that she no longer had to be excited just to have food, she had the luxury of judging its quality. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

"Sam is very handsome."

He would have liked Sam. He might have liked him too much. He would have flirted, but pined and moped over it like a child when they were alone and Wanda would have to deal with his emotional fallout. He was always easily infatuated, and it never ended well.

"Steve says you wanted me to be your therapist."

She nodded as she ate rather than replying. It was easier to look at the soggy yellow cakes in front of her than to read his expression.

"But he said no."

She nodded again and forced herself to look up with a small smile.

"He's right."

"I know he is."

"But I would, if you wanted anyway." He waved a bit of frozen waffle at the end of his fork, clearly trying to undercut the serious tone of their conversation. "Means a lot, that you trust me that much. Thanks."

"Thank you for being here."

"I always will be, Max." He gave her shoulder a soft punch the way men did when they wanted to say something heartfelt, but didn't want to be uncomfortable. "And if you want me to help you work through some stuff, you know you don't have to be afraid to say anything, right? You've had a hell of a life and I'm not about to judge you for any part of it. Just- I'm not going to hound you like a therapist is supposed to, because we're friends. But promise you'll tell me anything you need to get out, alright?"

Words stuck in her throat- or maybe it was the frozen waffles. She believed him. She believed that no matter what she said, he wouldn't look at her the way the therapist did, and some of the others, even when they were trying not to.

"You should tell him that I'm still here."

"Thank you, Sam. I will."

"No problem, Max."

"He is clever and kind. You need to tell him."

~

"I am in love."

Wanda giggled much harder than she should have. The drinks men kept buying her at the club were much stronger than what she was used to.

"Who?"

"The singer," he sighed dramatically and took a swig of the bottle he'd left the club with. "She is the only woman for me. I will marry her."

Wanda kept giggling, but didn't say what she was thinking. That he sounded exactly like he had when they were eight and Crystal had practiced for weeks so she could tell him she thought his drawings in art class were the best. Well, not exactly like that. His voice had changed in the past ten years. And he hadn't been sopping drunk when they were eight, walking home from school.

"And how are you going to find this singer, now?"

"Love will find a way, Drágám."

"You're drunk," she was laughing too hard and falling against him.

"You're more," he gestured to a crate on the side of the alley and stood still for her to get onto his back. "Wait-"

He passed her the bottle first. Wanda clambered from the crate onto his back and hooked an arm around his neck, blowing his hair out of her face. She drank from the bottle as he started humming the last song the singer had performed in the dark and dirty club.

"I am going to marry her, for real."

"Yes?"

"But don't worry- nothing will change. I promise."

"Of course not. I will ruin your wedding by never leaving your side. Your wife will hate me."

"I'm sure. It is fine. She will know I am a twin when she marries me." He laughed. "But you will have to leave me alone for my wedding night."

Wanda made a disgusted noise in his ear and he continued to laugh, but sobered somewhat after a moment.

"You really do not want anyone?"

If she hadn't been drunk, she might have been angry with him for bringing it up again. But real life concerns were nothing when she was pressed up against his warm back and the stars were all blurring together.

"Never. Kissing is hot and messy and I can't imagine the rest being less so."

"Definitely not."

She made the disgusted noise again to make him laugh. Wanda hoped it would distract him enough to change the subject. She hated talking with him about this. Not because sex made her that uncomfortable, but because it was one of the few things that separated them, and that frightened them.

"Do you think I would look good if I made my hair white? Like that singer?"

"You would look like an old man."

Chapter Text

So far, Wanda had managed to avoid being out of her room when Stark came to headquarters. It was her main worry the first week, until she asked Sam and he told her that Stark was rarely present. The team had changed. The Iron Man was no longer an official Avenger. As far as Sam knew, Stark was merely their financial backer and was "on call" in case of emergencies.

Nearly three months in to her training, Steve pulled her aside after their morning session.

"Hey- Wanda, I need to talk to you."

This was never a good sign. He only said that when he didn't think she would like what he had to say. Though she usually avoided it out of respect for others' privacy, Wanda allowed herself a look into his mind and felt her veins turn cold. White coats. Charts. Stretchers.

He must have seen the look on her face.

"Now- hold on a minute, Wanda-"

"We made- we made deal!" Her breath was coming short and fast. She had to concentrate all her energy on keeping her hands free of mist. "I won't- I can't let them- take- take my blood-"

Steve stepped forward and put a careful hand on her arm. The touch was light- like he was afraid to startle her. Like the way Clint had showed her how to touch his horse.

"Wanda- listen. It's not- we're not going to make you do anything you're not comfortable with, alright?"

"You- no!" She knew she sounded frantic and wild, but she couldn't be troubled to force calm into her demeanor. He had promised her. He couldn't do this. "We- we made a deal! I see head doctor and you won't let them take my blood!"

"We're not-" Steve took a breath and tried to offer her a smile. "No needles. Doctor Cho promises it'll be quick and painless."

"Doctor..." Wanda felt her hands go cold as she placed the name in her memory. "No- I can't- we- we left her for... for dead."

"Well- she's fine, and she just needs some basic notes for your safety in case you're injured on the field." He was trying to smile at her. He did that a lot more than actually smiling, it felt like. A lot of them did.

Wanda blinked, her panic shoved to the side for just a moment as she processed what he had just said. Did this mean he was near to clearing her for missions? She shook away her excitement and reminded herself of the problem at hand.

"She must hate us."

"She doesn't hate you, Wanda. She knows you're with us now."

Wanda eyed him skeptically while she waited for her pulse to return to normal.

"You are sure?"

"Absolutely. If you like, Sam has offered to sit in with you to make things easier."

Wanda hesitated. The idea of Sam at her side while a doctor examined her, perhaps cracking stupid jokes or telling her stories of his highly embarrassing mother in Jersey, was comforting. But she shook her head.

"No. I will be fine."

"We used to go to the doctor with Anya, when we were children. You will be fine. At least we know this doctor is beautiful."

Doctor Cho had her own lab at the headquarters. Wanda had known about the lab, but not who worked there. She'd avoided the whole wing deliberately the moment she found out what it contained.

"Hello, Miss Maximoff."

The doctor met her at the door, smiling. Someone must have told her not to look like a doctor. She was wearing neat, trim blue jeans and a ruffled floral blouse.

"Please, come in."

She led Wanda into a small study. Wanda frowned at the bookshelves and armchairs.

"Where...?"

"Captain Rogers said you aren't very comfortable with doctors, so I thought we could go over things in my office," Dr. Cho offered her the chair nearest a large fern plant in one corner.

"I...." Wanda's mouth felt dry. "I do not like to have- have people examine me." She was stammering it out like a child. "I- I am sorry."

The doctor smiled again and lifted what looked like a television remote fitted with a touchscreen. Wanda raised her eyebrows.

"No use for needles with this," she waved the device around, her expression more than a little smug. "With all my new funding, I've been able to start making some of my designs and inventions."

"What is it?" Wanda asked, eyeing the device nervously.

"It scans your blood content and most vitals in a non- invasive way. Like a tri-quarter on Star Trek."

Wanda couldn't suppress a smile.

"Ugg- she is a loser like you. You are perfect for each other."

"You know that show in Sokovia?"

Wanda nodded. She and Pietro had both inherited their father's insomnia. On the nights when he slept and she couldn't, she would sometimes climb out of bed and wander down the hall to find their father watching television. Star Trek often played late at night, with semi-comprehensible subtitles, and it belonged to the two of them.

"Can you beam me to other planets?"

The woman laughed.

"Not yet. I'll have to keep working on that one," she held up the device and wiggled it slightly. "May I?"

Wanda had almost forgotten why she was there. She swallowed and her hand lifted automatically from her side.

"I- yes."

She shut her eyes and braced herself, but after a few taps and beeps not unlike those her tablet made, the doctor spoke again.

"And there's your bloodwork."

Wanda blinked her eyes open, stunned.

"That is all?"

"For your blood, yes." The doctor tapped at the screen for a moment. "Now look straight ahead. And try not to blink. It's not the end of the world, but it'll take longer."

Wanda tried to follow all of her instructions as she went through each scan that she needed. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Cho put the device back on her desk.

"And you have a clean bill of health," she gave Wanda a smile. "Of course, we don't know exactly how your powers effect you physiologically, but I think we can trust this baseline enough to clear you for active duty."

Wanda nodded, hardly able to feel an ounce of excitement at this prospect when she had something so much darker stuck in her mind.

"I am very sorry that we left you to die. We didn't-" she had been about to say that they hadn't meant for things to go so wrong, but it felt too much like an excuse. Like she was begging to be told she hadn't done anything wrong.

The doctor waited patiently for her to finish stammering, her expression very hard to read.

"Thank you."

Wanda watched her while she pressed her lips together, as if unsure she should continue speaking on this subject.

"I have... my memories of that day are not complete. It was like... waking up in a dream, only the real world was the same as the dream world." She shook her head. "But I remember you. You gave me my mind- my control back. I won't forget that."

Wanda stared at her. She hadn't expected this. She'd expected reproach at the very least.

"You... you were bleeding when we left."

But the doctor shook her head. "Cauterized instantly. Won't say it didn't hurt, and I'm not a fan of the scar-" she tugged on the neck of her blouse to show her the rippled, distorted pink skin over her collarbone- "But come on. I'm a medical genius and I was in my own lab."

Wanda couldn't help but smile. But even if this woman had forgiven her for what happened, she still felt sick when she thought of it.

"I... I can't apologize to everyone. So I am trying to say it to everyone I can."

"That's very good of you."

It didn't feel good. It felt childish and pathetic. But she gave Dr. Cho a grateful smile as she got out of the seat and left the office.

She was halfway down the hall before she realized her phone must have fallen out of her pocket. She still wasn't used to it- having a cell phone on her person at all times, being able to call anyone she wanted at any time. Not that there were that many people she wanted to call. But the ability to use something so useful was perplexing. And she liked the Mandala coloring application.

"Can't imagine what it must be doing to her brain."

She froze outside Dr. Cho's office door at the voice. She'd only heard it in person a few times- she was more used to hearing recordings on videos- but it was unmistakable.

"I think she's lucky. I mean- she'll struggle with control and stability her whole life, but so do a lot of people. I don't think her brother could have hoped to live past 30."

It felt like something cold was trickling down from the top of her head, over her back and face. Dr. Cho. Talking to Tony Stark. About Pietro. It was too much. She did not need this today.

"Yeah, can't imagine a heart could beat that fast for very long. Not that- you know- it wasn't horrible. But, all things considered..."

Wanda ran all the way out to the field where they had been practicing some of their more destructive tactics. She tried to fire the machine that shot clay pigeons for them to practice with using her mist, but there was a metallic groan and crunch indicating she had crushed its internal workings instead. Letting out a feral scream, she sent a bolt of energy across to a nearby tree and watched the trunk splinter as though an explosive had gone off inside it.

"Can you imagine if your tantrums had been like this at the apartment?"

"Shut up!" Her scream was so violent, she felt like her throat had torn and started to bleed. This only fueled her hate.

"Wanda!"

It took a few more shouts for her to realize that the voice calling her name was Steve's. She rounded on him as he ran towards her, shield raised.

"Wanda! What are you-"

"You need to tell me!" She wasn't crying, but her voice still broke and cracked. "You need to tell me when he is here!"

"You- you ran into Ton-"

She turned back to the field and sent another bolt of energy, unable to look at him any longer. After a few more minutes, she felt him move behind her. Wanda thought for a moment he might try to subdue her, but instead he picked up a stack of the clay pigeons and began throwing them for her to hit.

~

The moment their cells were unlocked, the wind was knocked from her lungs. Her hair- greasy and tangled for weeks- whipped around her face and stung as it slid across her eyes.

When the rushing stopped and her feet touched the ground, she threw up the little bit of moldy bread in her stomach.

"Drágám- I'm sorry- are you- tell me how I can help-"

She waved him off as she finished emptying her stomach, bracing herself on the trunk of a nearby tree. When she had her breath back, Wanda looked around. He had taken them several miles away, to the foot of the hills where the trees were thickest. It was summer, but she still shivered in the filthy nightgown the scientists had put her in.

Pietro looked as bad as she felt. He was fighting for air the same if he had run the same distance without the inhuman speed he now possessed.

"Are you-"

"I just need-" he gulped in deep breaths, clutching his side.

Wanda put her hand on his back, clicking and shushing like their mother used to as she rubbed slow circles and he managed to get his breath. They stood like that for what felt like hours. At last, they both grabbed one another and fell to the ground, too tired to cry, and too afraid to speak. The sun dipped lower and lower as they huddled in the brush, holding each other.

"Where are we going to go?" His voice was cracked and hollow. The heat of the day had gone with the sun and they were pressed together for warmth at the base of a tree, like when they were children. "We could go east."

"We can't leave." Her voice was dull. She hadn't really thought it through, but once she said it out loud, she knew it was the truth.

"What are you talking about? Of course we can. I can take us anywhere."

"You think they will let their only successful experiments go? They will find us."

"So we will keep running-"

"No, Pietro. They will not let us rest." There were slow, silent tears rolling down her face and onto his shoulder. "We will have to go back."

She told him everything she had heard- or felt or read or whatever it was- from the guards. She didn't know everything, but it was enough.

"SHIELD is... is Hydra..." he was shaking in anger now. "Fucking knew they were-"

"They have bases all over the world," she interrupted him before he could get going. "They will find us, wherever we go."

"So what do we-"

"One of their goals is still to draw the Avengers here and destroy them."

He sat up so fast that Wanda cried out in pain at being thrown aside.

"You want us to-"

"Just think for one second!" She gripped his arm and snarled at him. "If we cannot leave, why not use them?"

"I don't know, because they are Nazi-"

"Once we have Stark," she set her jaw, determined, now. "We kill all of them. Do you think any man can stop us now? I could destroy them all with one thought, Pietro. And as long as you are moving, they cannot even see you."

He was quiet while he processed this. So quiet that they heard the boots kicking through the brush. In a flash of white, he was on his feet and Wanda scrambled to follow him.

"Hands up! Stay still or we shoot!"

They obeyed. Wanda watched Pietro's face, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn't do anything stupid. But he pulled up the kind of grin he usually used on people with too much eyeliner in clubs.

"Calm down, calm down," he held his palms open and even forced a laugh. "Just wanted some fresh air."

The guards seemed to not know what to do. They continued to shout at them and wave their guns, but none of them seemed to want to move any closer. Wanda felt a giddy leap in her stomach that she should probably not be feeling.

The men were afraid of them, and the realization made both their smiles genuine.

Chapter Text

Sam went away sometimes. For days, weeks. Sometimes with Steve, sometimes alone. Rhodey left too, but everyone knew that was part of his job. Sam didn't have the excuse of meetings with the president and secretary of state once a month. Sam did not tell Wanda where he went so often, but she had her guesses.

He'd been gone for ten days when he entered the main living area accompanied by the loud slam of a door. Wanda had been watching the news- learning all she could about what politicians were saying about the "Inhuman Problem." She jumped at the commotion and was possibly more surprised by who had made it.

"Sam- you're back. Are you alright?"

He didn't answer, but crossed to the couch next to her chair, kicking his shoes off before dropping down on his back and throwing an arm over his eyes. Wanda watched him, amazed. She had never seen him angry before. It didn't seem possible. After a minute, she muted the television.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

He breathed slowly through his nose for so long she thought he wouldn't answer.

"It's... do you ever feel angry- and you know you're just frustrated with a situation, but you still direct a bit of it at someone even though you know you shouldn't?" He lifted his arm and turned his head to look at her.

Wanda couldn't help it, she raised one eyebrow over the other. This was enough to get half a smile out of him, at least.

"Yeah, okay. So you know it's a sucky place to be."

Wanda shrugged. "Sometimes. But sometimes it feels better to blame everything on one person. Maybe it's not fair, but it feels neater."

"Not when that one person is your friend."

This time both of her eyebrows shot up. "What did Steve do?"

He gave her a look. "I have more than two friends, Max."

"So it was Natasha?"

He threw a pillow at her. She blocked it with a shield and sent it back at him. He caught it and tucked it behind his head. Wanda laughed, but waited for him to return to the subject.

"No, you were right. It's Steve. And I have three friends. Happy?"

She shrugged. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He gave her another look. "You know, if we were military, I wouldn't spill about personal issues with a commanding officer to another soldier."

"But you are not a soldier anymore. And I never was. We are-" she gestured at the television- "Vigilantes."

He looked like he was chewing the inside of his cheek. "When me and the Captain first met, we had something in common. We lost someone in the service- someone who was big in our lives."

Wanda listened silently. She knew about Riley. And guessed more than she'd been told. It felt like an act of trust when he told her. If it had been anyone else, she might have thought he had been trying too hard to equate their two tragedies, but it didn't feel that way between them. He talked about Riley like a person he loved, but he understood that Pietro was a part of her soul.

She also knew about Barnes, though less. It seemed like a much more complicated story.

"And... it means a lot sometimes, having friends who know what it's like to have those rough days where you blame yourself, have nightmares, yaddayadda-" he flipped a hand, using levity to get through tough topics the way he always did. "But all of a sudden, Barnes is alive. He's messed up, but he's breathin. And I-" he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "And I can't be mad at this guy for bein alive. That's insane. And cruel. And I can't be mad at Steve for having another shot with someone he lost. I don't even envy him- the situation's fucked up. But..." he sighed. "I dunno. Me and Steve met two years ago and we'd lost these guys that meant everything. And now Bucky's out breathin air and where's Riley? Still in Arlington. It's just- when's it going to be my turn? You know? When do I get a second chance at saving Riley?"

Wanda's heart was pounding in her throat. She tried to keep her face smooth, but she knew her mouth was trembling.

"Tell him. Aren't you hearing this? He will understand. Even if you are doing it on purpose, he will not be afraid or upset with you."

Wanda crossed her arms and shook her head.

"I can understand that."

They were quiet for a little while, until she got to her feet.

"Come on. You're taking me into town."

Sam sat up, frowning. "What for?"

"Because, Mr. Wilson," she spoke in a terrible imitation of the Vision's voice and accent. "I am attempting to distract you from your unpleasant and unproductive thoughts with activity and purpose."

He laughed and let her grab his hand to pull him up off of the couch. In the car, they spoke more lightly, about training, about Rhodey's latest attempt to get them all eating healthier, about how the media would react to her first appearance as the Scarlet Witch once Steve finally approved her for field missions.

She'd decided on her callsign not long ago. She'd talked it over with Sam, Vision, and Steve, but ultimately, it was Lila's suggestion made through Clint that decided it. She had been worried, when he first told her, but there was humor in his voice when he asked her why his daughter thought she should be called "Witch Princess." She'd wanted just "The Witch," but Sam said it needed more drama, and Romanov said there was too much baggage behind "red" for an eastern European to use it.

"Is this a date?"

Wanda scowled out the window of the car, crossing her arms tight as if this would distract her from the third presence in the back seat. It was empty. There was no one there. If she thought it hard enough, he would leave.

"So do we have plans aside from distracting me from moping?"

"I think I want to change my hair."

"Yeah- new look for your new outfit. Makes sense."

She nodded at this and pulled up a closed-lip smile. She'd told no one, not even Sam, that she hated the uniform. Well- not hated. But she wished they had asked her what she wanted before they went to the old SHIELD designer. They thought she would like the leather, since it matched her jackets, but she would have preferred the same material as everyone else's field uniforms. She stood out. Not to mention it took forever to get it on and off. And giving a corset- even one that didn't cinch her waist- to someone who did cardio and flexibility training daily was bordering on insane.

"We would have burned that thing. And you won't even tell them you don't like it? You are so polite now, it's embarrassing."

"I think I just need a change."

She hadn't thought about what she actually wanted to do until the stylist asked her.

"I..."

"How long ago did you..." the stylist plucked at her black ends.

"Um... ten years."

"Do you mind if I just cut it off so we can start over with the color? That would be easiest."

Wanda hesitated. There was something sentimental about the last few inches of her hair that remained darker than her natural color. Partially because she was so used to her hair the way it was. And partially because stealing the box of dye was how Pietro had tried to make amends for her having to cut all her hair off in the first place.

"It's alright. Go ahead."

Once it was a few inches shorter, she told the woman to lighten it all and add highlights. When the stylist started to mix the bowl of bleach, Sam, on his phone in a chair next to some magazines, had the good grace to pretend the fumes made his eyes water too.

~

He was gone for an entire night. They had gotten a hotel room with money from a wallet he'd stolen, but after going out to meet someone, he didn't come back. After a few hours, Wanda was too worried to wait and went out looking. It was in the dead of winter, but she asked anyone braving the snow if they'd seen him. Every hour, she returned to the room in case he had returned while she was out. At sunrise, Wanda was about to go out once more, this time to check the police station, when she took a chance look out the window and froze.

He was coming back. A girl was clinging to his arm, laughing at whatever it was he had just said.

White hot anger boiled up in her stomach. She watched, fists clenched, as he kissed the girl, hands on her waist, before disappearing to come inside. The door clattered as he unlocked it.

"You are awake? What-"

She threw her muddy boot at him with all her strength. It hit him in the chest.

"All night!" She screamed, as though they were already in the middle of the fight and had skipped the part where she was pretending to be calm. "I have been out all night looking!"

She threw the other boot and he dodged it.

"I'm sorry- I should have said I'd be-"

"That you'd be fucking the girl from the tea shop?" She searched around for something else to throw, but there was nothing heavier than her socks drying on the heater.

He actually had the gall to grin at her. "Her name is Csilla-"

Wanda actually screamed this time and tore across the room to shove him. "You- stupid-"

"Hey- what are you-" he put his arms up, incredulous as she tried wildly to hit him. "Wanda- stop! What is wrong with-"

"Out! Get out, you idiot!"

"Out? Where am I supposed to-"

"Just out! With your girlfriend, off the bridge- I don't care! I don't want to look at you!"

"Hey- hey!" He grabbed her wrists to stop her hitting him. "What is wrong with you?"

"Don't touch me!" She twisted out of his grip and barely noticed that his nails scraped deep cuts in the back of her hands. She stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Wanda fell against the chipped wood immediately, and slid down to the floor, her whole body shaking with sobs. She heard the door open and close and for a horrible moment, thought he'd actually listened to her. But she heard his footsteps move across the room and his back slide down on the other side of the door.

"Wanda? I'm... I'm sorry. I made you worry. It was stupid. I won't- I should have told you where I was."

She cried for what felt like hours while he continued to apologize, her chest aching by the end of it. She didn't even know why she was crying until she had run out of sobs and his voice dropped softer.

"We- we're still the same, Wanda. I promise. We will always be the same. This? This doesn't really matter."

Chapter Text

Wanda kept saying she was close to finishing her schoolwork, but the more Steve trusted her, it seemed, the less time she had to herself. Or maybe she was voluntarily spending less time alone. Then she didn't have to listen to him as much.

"You know you are not mad." He was on her bed while she tried to study, picking at the skin around his nails that was always so ragged. "You know that. You are not hallucinating."

"I know. That doesn't mean you are here."

"Of course I am. We have always been the same. You are alive, so we are still 'we.'"

"Death has made you annoyingly philosophical."

"Cute joke. When are you going to get off your ass and do something?"

"I train at least six hours every day."

"But you're not doing anything."

"You are impatient like a child." She didn't even bother keeping her responses low. "Training now will let me be more useful later."

"There is not always a 'later.'"

Her retort was cut off by a soft knock on the door. Wanda opened the lock from where she was sitting with the twitch of her fingers.

"Come in."

Steve hovered in her doorway, holding what looked like a black shoebox. He was nervous. She could read that from the set of his shoulders alone.

"Hey, do you... have a minute?"

Wanda turned in her seat, tucking a foot under her other thigh.

"Sure. Is this about training?"

"Uh-" he looked like he was trying to make a decision. After a moment, he crossed the room and sat on the now empty bed. Gingerly, like he wasn't sure he was allowed to. It was almost funny, but Wanda was too curious to spend more than a moment appreciating the image. "No... this is a personal matter."

Wanda frowned. She wasn't convinced this was a good sign.

"I... I've been working on something for awhile. Me and some of the others. Natasha and Clint have some contacts in Budapest that came in handy. I really should have told you earlier, but-" he fiddled with the box for a moment- "I didn't know if you would- if you would appreciate us getting involved with- we didn't ask-"

"I think it would be best if you just told me what this is about, Steve." His nerves were contagious. Wanda thought that even if she hadn't been getting more comfortable with him and his mind, his tense muscles and fidgeting hands would have been enough.

He nodded and passed her the box. Wanda took it, but didn't open the lid. She could guess what was inside, but she hadn't decided how to feel about it just yet.

"We talked to everyone we knew in Eastern Europe. They reached out and... we found what we could."

Wanda stared at the lid for a few moments before slowly starting to open it.

"Do you want me to-"

She ignored him and started to flip through the contents of the box. Their parents' wedding photo was on top. Then their class picture from their first year in school. An article clipped from a magazine with a black and white picture of them in the basement of a looted shop. There were other papers too. One that looked like an essay in her own eight-year-old handwriting and the last drawing Pietro had done in art class before the bombings. Her hands shook as she flipped through every piece in the box.

"There- uh- the last one. We got in contact with one of your old teachers. She moved to Budapest after the bombings, but she kept some of the things from her students so she'd remember all of you. She's a good woman. We... told her everything. Not about the experiments. We didn't think it was our place. But she knows that you and your brother helped save civilians. And... that you're on your own now. There's a letter from her at the bottom. And some from a couple of kids who remember you during... everything."

Wanda nodded, her throat tight. There was a tiny clay turtle in one corner. She remembered making it and painting it at the kitchen table. The head of the orphanage took it away from her when the two of them were caught fighting with the other children. She can't believed it had survived- let alone anyone remembered whose it was.

"I-" Steve got to his feet and cleared his throat, obviously unsure if he should say anything. "I hope you like-"

Wanda knew she startled him with how fast she got to her feet and hugged him. But his arms still dropped around her easily, like they had embraced a thousand times before.

~

She appreciated the gift. but it still brought the bombing nightmares back.

Their mother sat across from her. She looked up from setting her plate and winked at Wanda. Then she dropped out of existence, like she'd never been there at all.

Wanda woke herself up with the screaming. It only took an instant of consciousness to realize she wasn't alone.

"Miss Maximoff, are you-"

"Vision!"

She was gasping and shaking. Half of her was still in the apartment, breathing in concrete dust and screaming. The thought of him seeing her like this made her panicked and furious.

"What the fuck are you do-"

"I was concerned for your safet-"

"Get out!" She searched frantically in the dark for something to throw. "Leave!"

He phased through the wall before she could find anything heavy enough to hurt him. She didn't actually know if he felt pain. She had never asked.

Wanda sat up in bed for the next hour, her eyes pressed into her knees.

"That was fucking out of line. He needs to keep out."

"He doesn't understand," she whispered into her legs. It didn't matter whether or not she replied. But it helped her to calm down and focus to defend Vision's actions. "He thought he was helping."

"Your door is locked. He shouldn't have come in."

"Clint did the same at his home. He came into my room when I screamed."

"Clint is a man. That thing is an appliance."

She threw her tablet across the room and didn't care when the screen smashed.

~

Clint returned days later. She got up one morning and he was in the kitchen, splitting a plate of toast and preserves with Rhodey and Sam.

"Clint!" She said it too loud, but he grinned and immediately got to his feet to greet her, so she couldn't be embarrassed.

"Hey- kiddo, how you been?"

She was surprised at how natural it felt to embrace him and let him slap her on the back.

"When did you arrive?"

"Late last night. Didn't want to wake anyone up."

Wanda held back and tried not to look too pleased. She wasn't sure she liked how much she missed him.

"Are you back forever now?"

She hadn't meant for this question to stump him. Clint opened and closed his mouth once before pulling on a clearly forced smile.

"We'll see, Wanda. Now eat up. You gotta have some strength to show me everything you've been working on."

Wanda matched his smile, making a mental note to figure out what he was avoiding saying later.

At that morning's training, Clint fit seamlessly into their pre-existing group drills. Wanda had never thought of it this way, but she was a part of a group that was used to a different set of players. It was a strange realization, and part of her didn't like it.

"Your left is stiff, Hawkeye!" Romanov's voice cut clear through the sounds of their sparring.

"Jesus- Nat-"

Wanda tried to focus on deflecting the beams of light Vision sent her way, but she couldn't help but let her eyes wander to the pair on the other side of the mats. Romanov was not holding back. Not the way they were supposed to. Especially so early in the morning, and especially on Clint's first day back.

"Widow! Stand down!" Steve cursed violently when Romanov did not comply, forgetting his calm, authoritative persona. "Fuck, Natasha- the hell do you think you're-"

Everyone else had stopped. Wanda looked to Sam. He raised his eyebrows, clearly just as perplexed as she was.

Steve grabbed Romanov's bicep to pull her to a stop. She didn't fight him, but he dropped his grip immediately at the look on her face.

"Okay- everyone just- take fiv- ten."

Wanda jerked her head to the corner of the room near the water fountain. Sam followed without even pretending to act casual.

"What the fuck was that about?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

"She's your friend, isn't she?"

He frowned and watched, unabashed, as Steve spoke quietly to Clint and Natasha on the other side of the gymnasium.

"Hasn't told me jack. You think she's the type to sit around spilling her guts over Titanic and ice cream?"

"Well you talk to her more than I do."

"I don't get it. I thought she'd be excited Barton is back. He's her best friend."

They didn't look like best friends. Clint was gesturing emphatically as he spoke to Natasha, who stood stiffly, looking closed off and cold. Steve was hissing at both of them, keeping his voice low, but unable to hide how annoyed he was.

Wanda frowned and pretended to take a drink of water when Clint looked over in her direction.

~

They had few friends in school. The English girl was new and couldn't speak to anyone. But she was clever enough to spot her fellow social outcasts.

"Hello-" she enunciated clearly and pointed to her chest. "Crystal?"

Wanda lifted her chin and was about to scoff. Pride was their strongest defense against the other children. But to her surprise, Pietro stepped on her foot.

"Pietro." He tapped his sternum, then Wanda's shoulder. "Wanda."

The girl smiled and waved, even though they were standing a meter apart. Wanda was about to laugh at her, but Pietro was already waving back and gesturing for the girl to sit with them in the grass.

"What are you doing?" Wanda ignored the girl's blank smile, secure in knowing she wouldn't understand what they said.

"She is alone. Don't you feel sorry?"

"No." It was an answer that came easily to her. What about them? Who among their classmates were kind to them when no one else thought they were worth the effort? "She will be fine."

"It's not like she will interrupt."

Wanda scowled. She picked a few stray wildflowers to start braiding into a bracelet.

"She looks like a damn Swede."

"I think her hair is pretty."

Wanda raised her eyebrows at him and shoved his shoulder hard enough to topple him onto his side.

Chapter Text

Wanda had thought the weight room would be empty late at night. She'd had a nightmare and couldn't shake the feeling of needles in her arms. Scrolling through the internet on her tablet hadn't helped, so she thought she might as well get a head start on warming up for the day's training.

But there was a light on in the weight room and a player near the door was playing music. Wanda wasn't sure what she was more surprised at: the fact that the Black Widow was working at a punching bag at 2am when they had regular training in just four hours, or that she was listening to Swan Lake as she landed blow after blow on the sandbag.

Wanda sat at the bench outside the room and tied her shoes tighter, trying to decide if she should interrupt the Widow's session. Just when she had decided that she wasn't afraid of the short red-haired woman, one of the side doors to the training room opened. Wanda ducked, even though she was safely hidden outside of the doorway.

"Nat-" Clint sounded tired. "You shouldn't be listening to this shit."

The music stopped. The sound of fists hitting canvas and the chain hooked up in the rafters clinking continued.

"It's not good for you."

"It helps me focus. Please turn it back on."

"Come on, Tasha, can you just talk to me-"

"Are you going to spar with me or leave me alone? Either way I'm training."

A hefty sigh. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

The sound of the side door closing again. Wanda got up to leave. It didn't sound like the Widow would appreciate knowing she had heard that conversation.

"Are you going to stay there all night?"

Wanda cringed. Figuring it would do no good to put off the confrontation, she stepped immediately into the weight room, hands behind her back. The Widow had stopped her punching to take a drink from her water bottle.

"Can't sleep?"

Wanda shook her head.

"In the ring, then. Come on."

Wanda hesitated. Not that she hadn't sparred with the Black Widow before. But she wasn't sure she wanted to do so away from Steve's watchful eye.

"If you're scared of your teammates, you'll never make it in the field."

Wanda scowled, her chin lifting. "I am not afraid of you."

The older woman raised her eyebrows and ducked under the ropes of the boxing ring. Wanda followed, stretching her arms and shoulders hurriedly.

"I'll let you warm up."

Wanda felt stupidly self-conscious, stretching and readying herself while the other woman watched, drinking occasionally from her water bottle.

"Keep your back straighter on those side bends."

Wanda grit her teeth and tried to think of this as a regular training session. Really, it wasn't that different than the Widow correcting her form in their morning group training. But it felt like the criticism was personal, now that the two of them were alone.

"Ready?"

She nodded and squared off to one side, lifting her fists in front of her face. The Widow stood looser, stalking back and forth like a lion at the zoo. Wanda knew that if she didn't start things, she would wait forever. Sam said the record for waiting for the Widow to start a spar belonged to Rhodey at one hour and fifteen minutes.

Wanda chose a target and jabbed out. The other woman only stepped to the side and slapped her wrist- like Wanda was a child who had grabbed at something without asking politely for it.

"Too obvious. You wear your intentions on your face. Feint now and then. Like this."

Even though the Widow had told her exactly what she was doing, Wanda still moved to block her kick and consequently took a fist to the side. She let out a high gasp, but grit her teeth and refocused on her opponent.

"You think you're ready to be on the field?"

"The Captain hasn't-"

"I didn't ask what Steve thinks. I know that already. What do you think?"

Wanda blinked away the sweat that was already dripping into her eyes.

"I- I want to help."

"That wasn't what I asked."

She hit Wanda in the same place as the last time and she saw stars.

"Yes-" she spat, jabbing out several times and only managing to land one hit on the woman's thigh. "I am ready."

"You're not. You're still a liability to everyone around you."

Wanda tried not to show how much this stung and concentrated on the shift of muscles under the Widow's skin, hoping to catch her next move.

"If Steve would just let me use more of my power in training, instead of wasting time punching things, I could really help! I am in control now!"

"That's debatable. And your power was given to you. What happens when someone decides to take it back?"

Wanda's blood was pounding in her ears. "That is not possible."

"How would you know? Six months ago I would have said what you do was a fairytale."

"What does that matter?" She knew what the Widow was doing. But she could still feel the old anger boiling in her gut. "You don't know what you're talking about. I-"

"You know little more about your powers than anyone else," The Widow actually snorted as she stalked back and forth, waiting for Wanda's next attack. "You are confused and afraid of them just as much as me or Steve."

"I am in control!"

The Widow laughed and ducked under her wild swipe. "Do you know that? You haven't been in any high pressure situations in months. I've seen the footage from Sokovia. I know what happens when you're upset."

Upset. Wanda didn't know if she wanted to laugh or scream in rage. She settled on wildly lashing out with every limb in rapid fire- only landing one or two blows, and being hit more times than she could count.

"Not anymore!" she finally snapped. She managed to land another hit and successfully twisted away from the older woman's knee.

"Have you tested this? As far as I can tell, everyone walks on eggshells around you, scared of the day you finally snap. We sit around wondering if you're going to kill us all just because you're on your period."

"You sound like an idiot man!"

"It won't just be idiots saying it, once you screw up. They will use any excuse to start telling you how you don't deserve this, so don't give them a single one."

Wanda knew what she was saying, and knew she was being tested, but that didn't stop her blood from boiling as the Widow continued to lash her both physically and verbally.

"What do you think it will prove? If you align yourself with the 'normals'? Sam and Clint may humor you, but that doesn't mean they're not waiting for you to lose your mind at the first sign of stress."

"Shut up! They trust me! They are my friends!"

"It won't matter. Not once you realize it's your fault your city's gone and your brother is dead."

"She wants you to break. What is wrong with her?"

"No!"

It was the only protest she could manage. Because she knew he was wrong. Natasha didn't want her to break. There was a desperate hope in her eyes that got brighter with every horrible piece of venom she spat. In a remarkable instant, Wanda remembered what the girl Kate had said at the farmhouse and the things she knew of the Widow's history. "Another one of Clint's strays." It was hard to imagine Natasha as lost and alone as she always felt here, but this epiphany made her feel wonderfully, horribly close to the woman.

"And you? Always alongside the ones who always do the right thing?" Wanda forced a laugh. "Because you don't even know what the right thing is. Even I am more whole than you are."

The triumph in Natasha's eyes was enough to fuel her ego for months.

Wanda's strikes got sloppier and sloppier until the Widow swept her legs from under her and she landed flat on her back.

"I was holding back," the older woman informed her while she struggled to regain her breath. "You need work."

"Fuck off." Wanda had the wild urge to laugh, but didn't think it would help her case of proving how stable she was.

"Nice comeback."

~

They walked for hours in silence, following the soldier who spoke of "the Baron." The two of them sobered some, over the journey. Wanda gripped Pietro's hand, knowing just how low his moods swung when coming down off a high. When they finally turned a bend in the forest to find the ruins of an old castle, all Wanda wanted was to curl up with him and sleep.

The man waved down each layer of guards on the way into the building. Pietro gripped her hand tighter with each line of security.

"I don't like this."

He spoke in a rough, complex Romani dialect, mixing languages and keeping his expression hard so the man wouldn't know he was afraid. She didn't like it either, but she kept silent as they entered the castle and wound their way down hall after hall.

"Ah- Mr. and Miss Maximoff."

In one of the cold passageways, there was a man waiting for them, flanked by two guards with automatic guns. Everyone they had seen so far had been armed.

"So good to finally meet the two of you."

"Finally?" Wanda spoke first. She usually did.

"We have been asking around some of the protest groups in the city," he explained calmly. "We like to see driven young people who care about the state of the world. Particularly when we seem to have common concerns."

"Who is 'we'?"

"Technically, we are affiliated with SHIELD-"

Wanda rounded on Pietro, her anger lashing out her mouth in a rapid mix of Romani, Magyar, and Românește so that the man would not understand what was happening.

"You told a SHIELD agent our name? What is wrong with yo-"

"I didn't know he was SHIELD-"

"How could you be so stupid-"

"Excuse me-" the man raised his voice slightly to draw their attention back. "I understand and sympathize with your aversion to this organization. Which is why you will be relieved to find that we here at this location are affiliated only for SHIELD's resources. We do not answer to the same people. We do not have the same goals. Think of us as a completely separate entity."

Wanda was skeptical. Pietro's eyes flicked hopefully between the man and her. He wanted so desperately for this not to be his mistake.

"Would it help for you to tour the facility?" The man went on with a smile when they still didn't say anything. "I can better explain our purpose and what you could potentially do for us, and if you are still uncomfortable, we may part amiably."

Wanda still didn't like it. But Pietro was giving her his most pleading look and she would hate the fight that would follow if they left now. She nodded.

"Wonderful."

He spoke quickly in German to the guards that flanked him. They nodded and left down the hall. The man waved them to follow him as he took the same path.

"My name is Baron von Strutger."

"I did not know people were still barons," Pietro interjected, clearly trying to regain some of his aloof indifference after so openly being the one who had made a mistake.

"It is merely a title. I hold no real political power, even in Germany."

"A relief," Wanda muttered. They may have a small problem with authority.

The baron pretended not to hear her.

"Here in this base, our focus is scientific discovery. SHIELD has a monopoly on technology in this world, as well as on the most powerful players on the chessboard."

"The Avengers," Wanda said quietly.

"Yes. It seems unfair- and I think you'll agree- for all the world's power to be in one corner."

They exchanged looks with one another. Now the Baron truly had their attention.

Chapter Text

It was a week after their incident before Wanda sought Vision out deliberately. She found him in the library, going through his customary stack of six books per night.

"You have been avoiding me, Viz."

The abbreviation seemed to startle him. She had meant it to indicate she was not too angry with him, but once she said it, it sounded silly and forced.

"You... were upset with me. I did not want to make it worse."

She sat across from him in one of the leather armchairs, tucking her feet under her.

"I'm very sorry," and he actually looked it. "I heard... you. You sounded as though you were in distress. I was concerned."

Wanda wasn't angry anymore. She hadn't really been angry at him since he phased out of her room.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you. But I will still ask you to knock in future. FRIDAY is a security system. She will alert everyone if I were to really need help."

He looked like he wanted to argue with this, but didn't. Wanda tried not to smile. The Vision did not like FRIDAY. She had once caught him arguing with the AI security system over her method of logging visitor entrances. It had been the most human she had ever seen him. Rhodey said it was the part of him that used to be the old artificial caretaker, JARVIS. He was just a little jealous and hurt at being replaced so quickly.

"I will remember. And I apologize again."

"Thank you." She crossed her arms a little tighter. She wasn't sure what made her ask. Perhaps she was just far too used to being blunt with him. "Do you worry about the others the way you worry for me?"

He frowned and smoothed a hand over the cover of his book.

"I do not think so. I think it is a feeling I have exclusive to you. Is this strange?"

Wanda swallowed and nodded. "It is."

"Creep. He is obsessed with you. That is strange in a bad way."

"How many people do you care for, Miss Maxi-"

"Wanda."

It felt reckless to give him this permission. The team was almost entirely on first-name basis, except for the Vision. None of them pressured him to adopt informal address. But she needed reckless.

It had taken her awhile to realize what the feeling was, but she was anxious at the compound. It helped to go into town with Sam some days, but it wasn't enough. She missed the city. It was too hot in New York. Too still. The air didn't feel as clear here, even though it was more country than metro upstate.

"Wanda."

"I care for... Sam and Clint. Perhaps you and Steve as well. And of course my family."

He considered this for a moment.

"Forgive me... but-"

"I know my family is dead," she saved him from trying to think of a polite way to say it. But caring does not stop for anything."

To her surprise, he looked troubled by this.

~

Spurred on by the successful confrontation with the Vision, Wanda set an alarm for midnight and then waited in the kitchen for Clint to wake for his late-night snack.

"Jesus-" he jumped when he found her sitting at the counter with a box of cold cereal. "Scare me to death, why don't you?"

"Why is Natasha so angry with you?"

Wanda had decided that the blunt approach was best. It usually was, with the two of them.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "First name basis with úrnője halála?"

She shrugged and offered him the box of cereal.

"You are keeping something from me. Is that why she keeps trying to take your head off in training? Are you keeping secrets even from your best friend?"

He scowled, but sat across from her at the counter. As he took the box of cereal and shoved a hand inside, Wanda stared. In the harsh, white light of the kitchen, she could see that some of the stubble on his face was a duller color than the rest of his hair. She wasn't ready to call it grey yet.

"Thing is, I shoulda told you sooner, but... I'm not stickin around. Not for long."

She didn't like the way this sounded. Like he was ill. Some of this must have shown on her face, because he hastened to continue.

"Don't look at me like that- I'm not just running off or anything. Just... I won't be shipping out for the main crew missions like I used to."

Wanda was stunned, but tried to recover quickly with a scoff. "You sound like an old man."

"I sound like the guy with a family."

She knew he didn't mean it to hurt, but it felt like he'd stretched out and kicked her in the stomach. Wanda hadn't thought of it that way, but it was true. No one else on the team had what Clint did. Sam had a living mother. Rhodey, a sister and nephew in Boston. But none of them had family in the sense of what Clint stood to damage if he was killed.

"I should have quit this a long time ago." He sounded so tired, it scared her. "I don't know who I was kidding."

"What are you talking about?"

He gave her a dry sort of smile that didn't touch the rest of his face.

"Come on, Wanda. I'm just a regular guy."

She didn't want to be angry with him. But some of the old fire was rising up in her stomach and she couldn't stop it.

"And what are the rest of us then?" She was sneering. She could feel how ugly it was. "The dirty freaks poor Clint Barton got stuck with?"

He scowled at her and the expression exaggerated the lines in his face. The sight made her even more angry. He should not be this way. She had had too much change to deal with a broken promise on top of the rest. He should know she still needed him to "have her back." She needed her choices to matter. If someone was going to leave, she needed it to be her.

"Come on, Wanda."

"Sam and Rhodey and Natasha are just as human as you!" Her face was getting hot- a sure sign that she was going to regret everything she was saying. "And Rhodes is older than you! You are just being a coward."

She only said it because she knew he wouldn't rise to it. Clint only blinked in his tired way at her, fingers skating stray chunks of granola across the surface of the counter.

"You're actin like a kid, Wanda."

He was right, which only made things worse. Wanda tried to keep a grip on her anger, but she knew it was a losing battle early on. His tired eyes were dousing the fire in her throat.

"You are just as tired as he is, Ves'tacha. What has happened to you?"

She tried to rationalize that he had taken all the anger- all the real emotions- with him. He'd always been more susceptible to his feelings. She tried to tell herself that without him there to remind her to be angry, she naturally had no feelings of her own. But she knew it was wishful thinking. Just because she hadn't before didn't mean she couldn't hurt without him.

"This is why Natasha is angry with you?"

He did a sort of half-shrug, half-headshake that meant he was not looking forward to the long explanation he had to give.

"She knows why I have to go. But I think she's mad at herself for not being the first to see it. She thinks..." he hesitated, and she knew she was not going to like what he said next. "She thinks I never should have been in Sokovia."

It was like a weight had dropped into her stomach, splashing everything inside and threatening to make her sick.

"I did not know that úrnője halála liked me so much."

Natasha blamed Clint. Wanda didn't. But Natasha did.

"But- it was not-"

"It's not like that." He sighed in that heavy way. "She's not blaming me- not really. But she thinks it would have gone different if it had been anyone but me."

"And she is right."

She didn't want to hear this. Her throat was closing up.

"That's stupid. People die. She should grow up."

He was good enough not to point out that she had been having a panicked tantrum five minutes before.

~

Their mother was beautiful, but in the kind of way that was overlooked on the street. That was not so with their father. He shone like a hero from foreign mythology. He could make anyone smile and turn pink, just by telling them to have a nice day. Wanda supposed all children thought of their parents as beautiful and admirable, but she was sure their father was the most of them all.

Their mother wasn't jealous. She never begrudged the women who giggled at her husband's smiles and jokes. But it strained on her somehow. Wanda had always been able to tell.

"You know Apa loves you best, don't you, Mama?"

She smiled and kissed Wanda's head. Pietro was sick in bed in the twins' room, and out of a feeble attempt at only having to care for one sick child, Wanda had been quarantined to the couch for the night. Once their parents were asleep, Wanda would return to their room and stay awake when her twin couldn't sleep, entertaining him with stupid stories she made up on the spot. Their parents knew it was inevitable, and really only kept them separate when one was sick out of habit.

"No, Ves'tacha. He loves the two of you best. I am a close third."

Wanda giggled, but did not let the subject drop. "But of all the ladies, he thinks you are the prettiest."

She smiled as she ran her long fingers through Wanda's hair. "Yes, my dear. I know."

"But you always look so sad when he tells you. Why?"

"It is silly grownup nonsense. I hope you never understand."

Wanda frowned, but didn't argue.

"Lucky for you," their mother tickled her until she giggled. "You and your brother take after your father. You are both just as beautiful as he is. You will charm anyone you like and move up from all this-" she gestured at the cramped apartment around them. "You will move to Paris- or London. And always have nice things."

Wanda frowned and hugged her tighter. "I don't want to go away. I will stay in Sokovia forever."

Their mother laughed. "You only say that because you know no better. There is a whole world for you to see. And this place has been falling to pieces since the beginning."

Chapter Text

Steve said they couldn't get answers out of her when they asked about arrangements. It didn't really matter. One of those stupid things that people focused on to avoid grieving. But it felt like it mattered. It felt like she'd abandoned him all over again.

"It is fine that they buried me here. We should always be together."

"I can't think of anything worse than you being separated from home."

She stared at the headstone. It was very impressive. Someone had even gone to the trouble of looking up his middle name. Ferencz. For their mother's father. He'd hated it- said it made him sound like an old man. She told him to wait until it fit.

"This grave is for you to visit, not for me to live in."

"It would make me feel better, knowing you were home."

"Home does not exist anymore, Drágám."

She hugged her shawl tighter around herself. The weather was shifting to be properly cool. But instead of being comforted by this, it made Wanda uneasy. She liked her home and this new part of her life being separate. Not because she liked it here better, but because it felt cleaner.

"Before" meant something new now. Black and white. Night and day. Hunger and plenty. Cold and heat. It felt right that everything should be different in her life without him. But their birthday always marked the shift in seasons. It seemed this was true no matter where in the world you were.

Wanda turned away from the headstone at last and dropped into the passenger's seat of Sam's car where he was waiting for her. He'd been the one to bring up the day to her a week ago. He slipped it into the conversation in a way that clearly stated that it was his job to gauge how she felt about it so he could inform everyone how to behave accordingly. She appreciated the effort they went to not to upset her, but it made her feel isolated and fragile.

She'd told Sam all she wanted was to go to the cemetery and then spend the rest of the day thinking about anything else but what day it was.

When they returned to the compound, no one was training. Natasha and Steve were eating at the counter. Vision was reading, but not in the library as usual. Clint and Rhodey were napping while pretending that they were firmly engrossed in the news.

"What is this?" She had thought they would respect her desire to ignore the date. "I told Sam-"

"We're glad you're back." Steve looked in good spirits, but far too official for a surprise celebration. "We have a mission in 24 hours and we need a full team meeting before we leave."

Sam was looking carefully blank, which meant he was in on whatever was happening.

"Yes...?"

They were all oh-so-casually making their way toward the living area. Rhodey clicked off the news as though he had just decided it wasn't really that important after all. Vision set his book down and folded his hands like Wanda's grandmother.

"You're a part of this team, and we have a decision that needs to be made."

Steve had a knack for making absolutely everything sound far to dramatic for Wanda's liking. It was impossible to tell if he was about to tell her the world was ending or they were out of eggs. "Why don't we all have a seat?"

He said it like they all already hadn't moved to the armchairs and couches. Wanda parched on the edge of one of her favorite chairs. Everyone was trying to look comfortable, but Natasha was the only one leaning against the cushions of the couch she lounged on.

"So-" Steve's smile actually looked fully sincere. This only confused her more. "The addition of a new team member to fieldwork should be a unanimous decision- but don't make any mistake: this is a conversation, not a vote."

Wanda stared at each of them in turn, slow to understand what he was saying. Half of her was still staring at the headstone and drawing flowers up from the earth- making them grow before her eyes so that the grass was broken with little red crocuses. Half of her still felt heat at her back and fingers tangled up with hers.

24 hours. They were deciding if she would fly out on a mission with them in one day's time.

"Well I'll start if no one else will," Sam looked around the room once and shrugged. "I say yes. Wanda's put in the time and she's a great asset."

Wanda didn't even have the focus to be thankful. But she knew she should be, so she shot him a shaky smile.

"I vote yes too." Clint was trying to look casual with marginally more success than the other men. "Only special concern we had was control, and she's proved it over and over."

"Agreed." Natasha spoke in the abrupt, clipped way she had when Wanda had first met her. "I've pushed her. When she's bit- she bites back, but doesn't break."

Wanda wasn't even able to appreciate what a stunning compliment this was from the other woman. She was too tense- too vulnerable. Her hands were clasped between her knees, sweating and squeezing on and off as she unconsciously wished for a hand to grip.

"I..." Rhodey hesitated.

Here it was. Wanda had guessed this was coming. She got along with the man fine in training, but they didn't have much of a personal relationship. He could have been the best of all of them, but she still wouldn't be able to speak to the War Machine- best friend of Tony Stark- beyond basic pleasantries. Whether it was because the feeling was mutual, or because he respected her aversion, he did not push their interactions past the minimum standard of politeness.

"I just want to cover all our bases," he said it slowly and carefully. Like he had planned it out, but still doubted what he had to say would be received well. "Everybody needs a check. It's nothing personal, Maximoff."

Wanda saw everyone's eyes flick to her, as through expecting her to argue her own case. Instead, she nodded.

"Yes- what would happen if I- if someone took control of me somehow? I have stronger powers than any of you."

Natasha hummed her approval of this attitude.

"Well, that could go for Thor as well, couldn't it?" Steve spoke up on his own opinion for the first time. "Banner. Me. It's the same argument as with the Inhumans."

"Not... quite..." Rhodey said it uncomfortably- like he knew he was about to offend some of them. Or just Wanda. "The Scarl- Wanda's powers wander into an area we haven't seen much of before."

"Not true." Natasha's face and voice were impossible to read. "There was that string of incidents in New York-"

"Which is why we shouldn't be playing things by ear when people's free will is at stake."

Rhodey shot her another apologetic glance, but he was getting into his true thoughts now, and would not back down out of politeness. But Wanda understood his apprehension. She had seen the vague but horrifying coverage of the string of inexplicable crimes in the city. A chill rushed through her as she realized that any stranger would probably put her in the same category as the one responsible for all those horrifying deaths. And there was nothing she could even think of to argue against this categorization.

"That is fucking sick. I hate him."

"Wanda's powers are not mind control such as is suspected of the criminal Killgrave."

Wanda had almost forgotten that the Vision was there. He had finally learned that things typically went better when he stayed silent in large groups. But when he did speak, she sometimes felt guilty for not noticing him earlier.

Everyone had turned their attention to the android in the corner of the room.

"Then... what would you call it?"

"Wanda and I have discussed her powers extensively," he went on as though she were not in the room at all.

He was helping her. Wanda tried to remember that as her pulse pounded in her ears. She wouldn't speak in her defense, so he was. But that didn't stop her from thinking of how anyone else would have assumed the things they spoke about were in confidence unless express permission was given to share them.

"Wanda's powers when it comes to her control over others is more akin to hypnosis than anything else. It is suggestion. She can introduce feelings, concepts and sometimes images, but she cannot force anyone to do something they would refuse to or fight against. It was already within Mister Stark to want to build protection for the earth such as what he attempted with Ultron, and later, me. Wanda could not, like Killgrave, force anyone to take their own life. Not unless they were already consumed with thoughts of suicide."

They all processed this while Wanda felt like they were staring at her naked. Steve finally looked over at her with a slight frown on his face.

"Is that true, Wanda?"

"Yes," she was determined to keep her voice flat and even, even though she could tell only a few of them believed this. "But that is only part of my power. Who would stop me if they needed to?"

Wanda tried not to enjoy how sobered they all were in the silence that followed this question. They'd all thought of it before, of course. But now they were forced to address it out loud.

"Well..." to Wanda's surprise, it was Steve who shrugged as if this were hardly a real concern. "I'll say it again: we trust Thor on the field. And he could flatten our whole planet with a word to his buddies back home. We should be happy to have more heavyweights on the team."

To Wanda's surprise, everyone nodded after another moment's consideration. Even Rhodey.

"He's right," Natasha seemed even more firm in her endorsement now that there had been pushback. "We're never going to have a perfect contingency plan. Not for everyone."

Steve inclined his head in agreement. "We do the best we can- it's all we've ever done. I trust us more than anyone else."

"Everyone thinks they're the good guy, Steve." Rhodey sounded almost as tired as Clint did. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "But that includes me. And I do agree- Wanda's an asset."

Wanda felt even more shaky as she realized they were now all in agreement.

"So-" Steve was grinning at her in a look of almost laughably maternal pride. "Last vote is yours, Scarlet Witch. What do you say?"

~

"Come on- fuckers! How many next- huh?"

The robots had overrun the city. Wanda's heart was pounding somewhere behind her eyes and tiny screams escaped her throat every time a piece of building or statue shattered nearby. But Pietro was laughing- wild, sharp and loud like he was drunk. In a spray of metal, another line of robots shattered as he shot straight through them.

"Idiot fucking metal men!" He paused, breathless, his voice hoarse as he still screamed at the crowd of approaching attackers. "This is my city! Mine! You think you understand these streets? I will meet you on every one! Fuck off!"

"Pietro- shut up!" But she was laughing too. She could tear the metallic creatures apart just as easily as he could. The things did not feel fear, but there was still a feral pleasure in destroying them.

"Get out of my home-" he let out a cry as he tore a head from a body with just his hands. Wanda knew his fingernails were bleeding and he hadn't noticed yet. "Nothing like you belongs on the streets we have made with our sweat and blood for centuries!"

She laughed and it felt like singing in her blood.

Chapter Text

Wanda barely slept. Steve had briefed them on the mission. It was basic recon. Low pressure. But of course, they were to treat it as serious as a hostage situation.

She'd spent the rest of the afternoon with Sam while he quizzed her on protocol. He grinned at her the whole time. She thought it was because everyone had given her their confidence. But as she lay in bed staring at the wall, she realized that it was likely more because she hadn't thought about what day it was since they returned from the cemetery.

She cried. He was there and wouldn't stop saying how she would show them all up. She curled up on her side in bed, hugging her stomach and trying not to feel the heat at her back. The few moments she did sleep, she dreamed that he was running with Sam- but he could not push past normal human speed. Sam laughed at him and she laughed at them both, perched in a sturdy old tree in the mountains as they raced around the rocky path.

They ate breakfast all together in a grey blur in the morning. Wanda couldn't taste anything. She couldn't even remember what she had put in her mouth as they strode down the hall to the lockers. They didn't wear their official uniforms, but everyone put on a layer of protective gear under their clothes. Wanda had trouble with the stiff material that could not stop, but would slow most bullets, but she refused to ask Natasha for help. Finally, her fumbling fingers cooperated enough to fasten everything in place. She brushed her hair and was going to leave it loose, then thought better of it and tied it in a high tail.

"Are you nervous?" Sam asked in the quinjet. He had his wings, but they were packed away under his seat.

"Of course not." She tossed her head and turned up her nose in a way that always made him laugh. "I am wonderful."

"Sure you are, but what if you end up on TV?"

He was teasing her, but it was a new enough idea to give her pause. Would anyone recognize her? She knew half the world had studied the footage from Sokovia, though she had noticed very little of the footage of them that had made it onto American television had shown them being truly frightening. Likely all powers that be wanted to keep civilians as calm as possible. Seeing her tear metal apart with her mist would likely spur on panic. Even so- they hadn't hidden everything. She knew there was frequently played footage of her throwing up a shield and him flashing into a white blur. She felt raw and exposed at the thought of a stranger seeing her and knowing where she came from. She went into town often, but if she used her powers in front of anyone other than the team...

"Then I will become a beloved celebrity, like Charlize Theron."

He laughed and elbowed her. "I can definitely see you in a fashion magazine."

Soon enough, they had landed in a field outside of New York. Three cars were waiting for them. Wanda was delegated to the back seat of one with Steve and Sam. Natasha and Rhodey took another- delegated to station themselves between the surveillance point and the police station. Wanda tried not to laugh as she imagined the uncomfortable tone and likely hilariously awkward forced conversation between Clint and Vision in the third car, designated to patrolling the block.

"Remember- you are not to engage in any conflicts-"

"Unless given express orders by a senior member of the team," she finished for Steve automatically.

"And which members of the team are senior?" Sam asked quickly, shooting her a grin over his shoulder as he drove.

"Steve, Rhodey, and Clint. Because they are grandfathers."

"Hey- I'm the only one old enough to be a grandfather." Steve's lip twitched. "Maybe Rhodes. And I ought to have you both running laps for insubordination. Just let me run through my leader stuff, okay?"

"He's a little insecure about the whole rank thing," Sam said in a loud stage whisper. "You know he's not a real Captain, right?"

"Oh not this again."

"And even if he was, me and Rhodes both outrank him by a mile."

They were helping her keep relaxed and she was grateful. But the car ride had to end eventually. They parked at a building several blocks away from their destination. They were to walk to their surveillance post and keep undercover as the others did the same further down the street.

"I still think we should have got fanny packs if we're supposed to be tourists," Sam reminded Steve halfway down the first street. "No one's going to believe it if we don't look the part."

Wanda let their banter wash over her, her eyes darting all around the streets. She had yet to go into the city. It had always seemed like a trip for another day. It was remarkable how different it was from her imagination. She had seen it on screen, of course. But no film had ever captured the claustrophobic feel of sitting in the bottom of a deep canyon. The buildings were larger than the ones at home, but the closeness of everything felt achingly familiar.

Steve laughed as she wove her way through the crowd, eyes wide open behind her dark glasses for any suspicious behavior.

"What? Why do you laugh, old man?"

"It's just- you move like such a city kid. You know how to walk right. Not like your typical tourist."

She grinned, but wasn't sure she knew exactly what he meant. Sokovia was not a popular tourist destination. Foreigners were military, press, or too rich to walk the streets.

They finally set themselves up at an outdoor cafe a few buildings down from the laboratory they were supposed to be watching. They ordered coffees and teas and Steve pulled out a city guide to hide his field notes in.

"So, what do you see?"

"There are two doormen," she started slowly. "They are dressed as greeters, but they stand like soldiers. I expect small side arms, but we are too far to tell. They may just be muscle."

"Very good, I agree. Anything else?"

"The front desk likely has a panic button. The desk itself is set into the wall with optimal placement for a dropdown cage."

"Very nice."

"And the elevator is card access only."

"Nice work. Keep your eyes open. We want to get a baseline for their typical level of activity in and out."

Overall, it was not exactly what she had expected of a mission with the world's premier team of superheroes. Natasha was texting her all the "old man" things that Rhodey said, and Clint was texting her all the "robot" things The Vision said. She tried to ignore her phone every time it buzzed, but with little activity at the lab, there wasn't much else to do. They spent two hours over-caffinating at the small umbrella-ed table outside "Gina's" before Steve deemed it necessary that they take the surveillance further.

"You're asking about tours," Steve explained. He would hang back down the street. He was too recognizable. "For a student from abroad. You're only in town for a week. See how they react to the public. Try being difficult if you can so we can gauge their standard response to low level threats and nuisances."

"I am good at difficult."

Sam held the door open for her dramatically and she sauntered through, still wearing her sunglasses. The door guards didn't seem to have a problem with either of them.

"Hi-" Sam flashed his most charming smile at the doe-eyed woman behind the front desk and checking her nametag. "Claire? My name is Steve Carter."

"Hello, Steve. What can I do for you today?"

"We're interested in touring the facility. Could you help us out signing up for that?"

The woman did not hesitate. "Of course. Are you looking in for a group that's affiliated with an organization?"

"No- an individual." He put a hand on Wanda's back and guided her forward. "This is Zsa Zsa Lugosi. She's a visiting student doing a semester upstate."

Wanda stepped on his foot, but the woman didn't seem at all suspicious of the improbable name.

"Well we have all kinds of wonderful opportunities for student tours. When would you like to come back?"

The woman was smiling at Wanda now, so she opened her mouth to reply, but Sam interjected.

"She doesn't do so good with the English- do you have any tour guides who speak Hungarian?"

Well, Steve had said they should try to be difficult.

"Why yes, we do, in fact."

Wanda thought it was lucky she was wearing such large sunglasses, because her eyebrows might have shot up in surprise.

"Oh- really? That's great."

"Mhmm. Now, you said she was a college student?"

But Wanda had stopped listening. Her blood had frozen when she spotted loose, dark curls across the room.

It wasn't the shade of him that haunted her. For one, he wasn't standing at her back, muttering annoyed little comments about her friends. For another, he moved between people and they even made eye contact with him.

Wanda couldn't feel the floor under her feet. She moved like a ghost away from the desk. All sound had faded to a dull hum in her ears that was getting higher and higher. He was headed for an elevator against the back wall. She was vaguely aware that she was bumping into people and that she was surrounded by annoyed muttering. It didn't seem to matter. She was close enough to touch him. She stretched a little further and managed to grasp his sleeve.

"Yes? Can I help you with something?"

In the instant it took for him to turn, it wasn't him anymore. His nose was too straight and flat, his skin was too sun kissed, and his smile showed too many teeth.

"I um-" she shook her head and tried to fight down the panic in her throat. "Where is... toilet?"

~

They had a dusty old tape player, even though most people had long ago begun to upgrade their music technology. They only had a few tapes to play, but that somehow made it more special. Their father's rock music from the 80s, their mothers folk ballads with wandering half steps, and a few that belonged to all of them equally.

They played Swan Lake when they cleaned. Their parents would scrub with vinegar and bleach for hours, then their mother baked strong spice cakes with rum and cinnamon to rid the flat of the sterile smells.

"Dance with me, B'shert." Their father tried to tug her away from the icing she was mixing as the music built speed. "There is no use in working hard all day if you don't dance at the end of it."

"It is not the end yet," their mother reminded him as she tried to twist out of his grip, but she was trying not to smile.

Wanda and Pietro both giggled at the comical picture their parents made: their father with his arms wrapped around their mother's waist, her lower half tight to him as he gently pulled her, her upper half still leaning with determination toward her mixing bowl on the counter.

"Then you must take a break," he leaned in to press his lips to her neck, "and my kisses will revive you."

Wanda and Pietro pulled faces and made noises of disgust at each other. Not because they truly had any aversion to romance, but because children should, according to people who ought to know.

"You have far too much faith in your kisses, I think."

Giving up on this lost cause, he turned instead to the two of them, coloring at the kitchen table.

"You think it is funny that she will not dance with me?" Wanda squealed as he took her arms and lifted her out of her seat, spinning her around the cramped kitchen area. "It only means you two must!"

He dropped her to just one arm and she swung, giddy and laughing as he picked up Pietro with his free hand.

"Bite him! We will take down the giant together!"

"No biting your father. Not even if he deserves it."

Chapter Text

Sam insisted that they go out for drinks to celebrate what a brilliant undercover agent she turned out to be. Vision and Rhodey made their excuses, but to her surprise, everyone else agreed. Steve looked like he knew he should reprimand her for doing something so risky as charge a security guard to see what would happen, but he couldn't bring himself to. The longer she stayed, the more she realized his responsible attitude was a show more of how he thought he should behave, rather than his true nature.

Wanda let them praise her instinct and tenacity, shrugging and saying it seemed like a good idea. She didn't tell them that there had been nothing further from her mind than reconnaissance in that moment. That her heart had been in her throat and she hadn't even seen the man's hand resting on the holster at his hip because she had been too busy searching his eyes for the right grayish blue.

Natasha paid for their drinks and Sam made sure Wanda downed at least two before dragging her out onto the club's dance floor. They drew stares and Wanda realized it was because Steve and Natasha at least were recognizable. She even laughed into her drink when she saw Clint clam up and excuse himself from the outing after a girl even younger than Wanda sidled up to him and shyly told him he was her favorite Avenger.

"Could have got a free drink or two out of her, I'll bet." Once he realized she was in no mood to dance, Sam had pulled her instead to a back table and told the waitress to keep their drinks coming. "Hey- you think you could flirt some out of those guys over there? They've been checking you out and I'm running out of cash."

Wanda scowled and shoved his shoulder. "You flirt with them. I am staying right here."

"I would buy Sam a drink."

She finished her current glass as quickly as she could, then, despite what she had just said, fought her way to the most crowded part of the dance floor- Sam laughing as he trailed behind her.

Since the bombs, she only danced when she was too drunk to see anyone laughing. All she could manage was a clumsy mix between what she saw other people doing at clubs and the jumping, spinning and clapping her mother's family showed at celebrations. The results had neither the sex appeal of the young people around her, nor the grace of tradition.

She knew Steve and Natasha were nearby and so she closed her eyes as she moved. With so many bodies jostling together, she could be sure that the body heat she was feeling was real, and it was too loud to hear any snide mutterings. She felt the music in her stomach and feet the strongest, and it drowned out anything else she was feeling.

"I think we should head out-" Steve shouted over the music just when she was starting to forget her achingly empty hand. "You guys are already going to be in rough shape tomorrow."

"You can go-" Natasha waved an impatient hand at him. She barely danced, but moved comfortably to the music as she drank. "We're staying."

Wanda was grateful. She didn't feel like arguing with Steve just then. She didn't feel like talking at all. She wasn't even sure she could.

"Alright- but I'm taking Sam. He'll blame me in the morning if he makes himself sick."

She and Natasha stayed for what felt like hours, but she had no idea just how much time had passed. Wanda barely remembered the cab back to the complex, or the walk across the field to the living facility.

She didn't want to go to bed. Luckily, Natasha seemed to read her mind again and took a bottle from the cupboard. They sat back to back on the floor in the living room, passing the rum back and forth. It took Wanda a long time to realized that they were having a conversation.

"You don't really think it was Clint's fault. I know you don't."

"Is that what you know?"

"Mmhm. I don't even need..." she trialed a bit of mist from her finger, drawing shapes and names through the air in front of her.

"I don't blame him. But it still-"

"'Would have gone different if it had been anyone else,'" she quoted dully. "I don't see the difference."

"There is one. And if it had been Clint instead-"

"But he is fine, so why are you angry?"

"Because it might be him next time. He should do the smart thing and just go."

"You are chasing him away." She nodded unsteadily at the blank television screen on the opposite wall. Wanda felt it was very clever of her to realize this even when she couldn't remember if she was wearing socks or not. "To keep him safe. You think it will be easier for him to leave if he does not have you as a friend."

"Yes."

"That is very stupid."

"What can I say- I'm not very good at caring."

"I think this means you care too much."

"Is that a fact?" It seemed easier to talk about this since Natasha was using the same flat, bored voice she did when they ran through training strategies.

"It is what Pietro would do if he fell for someone who did not care for him. He tried to make them hurt him- so he would not love them anymore."

"Decent strategy."

"And why would it have been different?" Neither of them seemed to care when their topics jumped and bounced back and forth. This too seemed easier.

"You know why."

"I don't."

"Come on. I can put two and two together, Maximoff."

"I just want someone to say it."

"I think you're saying it in your head over and over enough for the both of us."

Wanda scowled, but didn't argue. "Where is Sam?"

"In bed like a good little soldier."

This seemed very funny and Wanda almost tipped over with the force of her giggles. It was lucky Natasha's back was so firm and straight behind her. Their shoulder blades ground against one another and it was just enough discomfort to keep her awake and focused.

"I need to tell Sam."

It seemed silly that she hadn't done it yet. Talking to them all was getting so much easier. She was even drunk on the floor talking about Pietro's death and his lovers with The Black Widow. Talking to Sam would be easy in comparison.

"Tell Sam what?"

"About Pietro."

"Sam knows you lost a twin in Sokovia."

"No..." She shook her head and then put her fingers to her temples to keep the room from spinning so violently. "Not about that... about after. Tell him I need to... to tell him. I won't want to when I wake up."

"Sure thing."

~

After a few months, the guards stopped pretending they would be punished for leaving. They always came back and, miraculously, this seemed enough to prove their loyalty to the people who had tortured their minds and bodies beyond endurance.

"They must be thinking it is Stockholm," Pietro said it like it was a wonderful inside joke shared between the two of them. "Their poor soft-headed twins. Too stupid to remember having guns pointed at us just so long as they feed us."

Wanda didn't find it as funny as he did, but she forced a laugh anyway. They were in a hotel room in the middle class side of town. She wouldn't tell him that these outings were starting to feel false and stale. Their days of freedom meant less and less every time they returned willingly to the castle and Strutger. She knew she had no right to feel this way. That she was the one who insisted they wait and bide their time in the company of Hydra. But part of her was desperate for him to pick her up and race off to Istanbul or Mumbai, to find a place where these people had no contacts and no sway. But she knew he would stay. Partly because he had faith in her plan to wait out the horror. Partly because he loved the city more than any girl or boy who'd ever kissed him.

He could tell something was bothering her. He got up out of his seat and crossed to kiss her as he shrugged on his coat.

"I will be right back, Drágám. Do not go anywhere."

Knowing it would do no good to protest, she returned to the book she had been reading as he flashed out the door. He was usually only gone a few minutes when they were on one of their free days. He didn't even meet his lovers anymore- not since before. So when he did not return in the next ten minutes, she began to watch the street. She didn't want him to be back with a lover. She did not want to wait and worry for hours and then fight about it when he returned.

But in a few more minutes, he was back, coat and arms full to bursting.

"Pietro- what-"

"It was our birthday." He grinned as he dumped what was in his arms onto the bed she sat on. There were boxes and boxes of sweets and a bottle of rum that looked like it cost more than the room they stayed in. "Last week. We didn't do anything, so we will celebrate tonight."

It was amazing just how much he could fit inside his coat. Every pocket was filled with candy and jewelry, a notepad and colored pencils, several new books, and what seemed to be an entire deli packed in plastic containers.

"You could have been caught." She was sure the rum had been locked in a case at the liquor store.

But he only laughed.

"And these are for you as well-" he pulled out a handful of lipsticks and tubes of mascara from his pockets along with other much needed items from the drugstore. "I think this is your brand?"

"And what is this?" She plucked up a box with a glossy picture of a sultry platinum blond on the front. "I do not want hair dye."

"Of course not. That is for me."

She laughed. He was joking, of course. Wanda held the box up next to her face and tried to mimic the model's sexy gaze.

"You want to look like this silly Princess?"

"Of course-" he rolled his eyes and snatched the box back from her. "I think it comes with gloves and everything. But it will be much easier if you help. You will be able to see every side."

Wanda stared at him. "You are not serious."

But he was. They covered the bed with towels from the bathroom- he insisted they were comfortable and Wanda didn't argue. They had both had enough of cold, hard surfaces to last them a lifetime. Wanda read over the instructions three times before she started mixing the bleach. The fumes made their eyes water and Pietro complained loudly before she even touched him with the stuff.

"It stings!" He declared only moments after she had squeezed the first glob onto his head. "It is not supposed to sting!"

"Of course it's supposed to sting, it's bleach."

"All my hair is going to fall out. I will look like an idiot."

"You will look like an idiot no matter what. No one will believe you are blond."

"I don't want them to believe anything. Except that I look amazing.

Wanda snorted as she finished smearing the goo through his hair. "You will look like a grey old man. And I will not feel sorry for you."

Chapter Text

Steve grinned at their ashen faces and annoyed grumblings at every sound the next morning. He seemed completely unaffected by what he had had to drink the night before. Sam said it was due to the experiments that made him so fast and strong, but Wanda already knew. She tried not to think about how hard Pietro had tried to get drunk after the experiments and how much he had panicked and even cried when he couldn't even make the room spin. Her body was not effected in the same way, and they had cried together over the experiments perverting them into more separate entities.

Training was grueling, but no one complained, not when they knew they might one day have to perform when their bodies were in less than peak condition. But they couldn't pretend they were feeling fine. Sam's water bottle seemed permanently attached to his flaking lips. Natasha looked almost the same as usual, except she had straightened her hair and pulled it back in a low ponytail instead of leaving it loose. Rhodey looked like he was trying very hard not to smile all day.

"Alright team, let's call that good for the day."

Their collective sigh of relief was audible. Everyone wandered off in the direction of the living quarters, but Wanda didn't see Clint, so she checked the locker room. She found him, already half asleep across a bench, a hand towel thrown over his face to block the harsh florescent lights.

"You only had two drinks, old man."

"Four," he corrected, lifting the towel from just one eye. "I grabbed two more from Sam on my way out."

Wanda's head hurt too much to laugh at him. But she smiled and nudged his leg with her knee as she passed by.

"How late did you stay out?"

"I don't know. Sam and Steve came back first, then Natasha and I came home, but stayed up talking.

He snorted and she winced at the noise.

"Really? What'd you two talk about? The best way to scare someone's pants off?"

She threw her own sweaty towel at him. "No, about you."

"Me?" Wanda could tell he was trying not to react to this.

"Yes." She took an Advil from Sam's locker and downed more water with the pill. "Everyone is always gossiping about you, Hawkeye."

"Haha." Then, after a pause. "How is she?"

Wanda turned and raised her eyebrows at him. Clint sighed and sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"She won't talk to me. I don't know if it's all about me or if she's got other stuff goin on."

"She's trying to have your back." She made herself busy with her hair at her locker. It felt better than looking directly at him during this conversation.

He considered this and nodded slowly.

"She's a good partner."

"Not very good at friendship and feelings though."

"Yeah, well- most of us aren't."

She let the topic sit for a moment. She had never been in this position before- never cared about two other people enough to want to help repair their relationship. Wanda didn't even know if she should try to help at all. It seemed invasive. That or like something that people who knew how to have friends should handle instead.

"You should tell her you will leave and that it won't change how much you care about her. That you will stay safe, but will always be her friend. It doesn't have to be one or the other."

He turned his head to give her a small grin. "You lookin out for us, Kid?"

Wanda shrugged and slipped off her trainers. "It's my job."

~

Everyone seemed to be taking the day to themselves. Wanda played around with the internet on her phone and somehow ended up finding all kinds of recipes for sugary comfort food. Halfway through choosing one, she remembered that she should be working on her schoolwork. She hadn't touched it in weeks. And now every time she thought of it, it felt too daunting a task to return and see how much she had forgotten. So instead, she wandered into the kitchen and was pouring the filling into a tray of lemon bars when Sam found her.

"Hey, Max."

Her heart had never sank at Sam's voice before. She had been quietly hoping that she and Natasha would both forget about her request from the night before, but it seemed that was too much to ask.

"Hello. How is your head?" She kept her eyes on the tray as she smoothed out the top of the dish. She knew he was watching her, trying to read her mood.

"I've had worse." He sat at one of the high stools across from her at the counter. "Whatcha makin?"

"They are lemon sweets. Don't tell anyone else about them. We will eat them all and make ourselves sick."

"That sounds great."

They paused for a moment, both knowing what he was about to say. Wanda washed her hands and started to wipe down the counter. It felt good to keep moving.

"Hey- so, Nat says drunk-you wants to talk to me, but sober-you isn't going to be into it."

She nodded down at a spot of sugary filling stuck firmly to the counter as she scrubbed it. He waited, like she knew he would. Maybe if she waited long enough, he would change the subject to something light and cheerful. Something told her he wouldn't- not this time.

"Our mother was Roma."

It felt stupidly blunt to begin with such a statement. But Sam was listening, just like he promised he would.

"So you're half-"

"No-" she shook her head. "It is not like that. What... it is not blood. It is life and... um- spirit? We did not live with Romanipen- so we were Gaje- not the people."

She was doing a terrible job of explaining this. But it was the best she could do in English. It was hard enough to explain in her own language.

He nodded slowly.

"Yeah- sorry. We're kinda black and white about that sort of thing state-side. No pun intended." When she smiled, he gestured for her to go on. "So your mom grew up in that community, but you didn't."

She ducked her head in agreement, but still didn't look up at him. He had to notice how she wasn't looking at him. Wanda almost never had trouble making eye contact with Sam.

"Yes- but... even though we did not have Romanipen... there still... we still had parts of the life? Somewhat... kind of like with our father and his faith. He was never devote, and so neither were we, but it was still part of our lives."

"I get it. Ma grew up Southern Baptist. Never set foot in a church outside of weddings and funerals myself, but there's no getting away from Southern Baptist."

She nodded and jerked her head at the couches, since she had nothing else to scrub. He sat on one end of the most comfortable sofa and she sat on the other. Wanda tucked her feet under her and clasped her hands on her knees.

"We... we followed some traditions and rituals. Some Jewish, some Romani. Ro- it's not a religion. But there are beliefs. Mama would make us carry charms and things for luck and-" she was rambling because she didn't want to actually have this conversation- "Pietro, he used to save them all and he would panic if one was lost or broken. Between the bombings and Strutger, we didn't have any left and he said it didn't bother him but I know it did. He was always very superstitious. The things people said effected him, even when he tried to say they didn't. And I know that some people- they think belief- faith- is what makes these things real. Religion and magic and luck. If it does not bother you, it will not affect you. God is only God if people worship. No one can curse you if you think they are mad."

She needed to stop dancing around the topic. This preamble was meaningless. But she couldn't bring herself to say what she needed to yet, so she let the words flow from her in whatever order they appeared in her mind.

"Our mother, when she gave us a charm, she would say: 'This is just a useless piece of gold- but in case it is more, no one watching can say I don't protect my children.' I do not know what this means for her belief. Is it really disbelief if you follow the tradition? I don't know. And I don't really know what I believe either. But I don't carry charms and I don't pray or observe Shabbat so I think this means I don't believe anything. Only what I see and think and feel. But it doesn't mean I don't still think about the things we learned when we were small. The stories and the traditions and things. And for the Roma, there are some things that you must never forget. And... Death... funerals are very important."

She heard him shift on the couch next to her. He must know this was the point of the discussion. Wanda still wouldn't look at him.

"When... when Roma die," she swallowed and tried to breath slowly and evenly, "it is very important that their loved ones stay with their body. To keep their mule-" she waved a hand vaguely, trying to think of the word. "Their soul? So it does not wander."

Sam said nothing. He listened as though he knew not just how important this was, but how long it was going to take to get to the point. Longer than it had taken already. He would not rush her.

"If... if you are the only one that the dead has, you must stay awake until they are buried." She picked at a loose thread on the edge of her skirt. "We- we could not do this for our parents. But it did not worry us. For us, it was not truly a debt to the dead. Things like this- they are comfort for the living. And-"

She was trembling all over now. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He looked concerned. He didn't understand. He had to understand.

"I- I still feel that way." She knew that once she started crying, she wouldn't be able to stop, so she rushed to keep going. "I still- I- I don't really think that his soul is wandering lost. Not really. But-"

"Wanda..." he was concerned. More than concerned. He leaned in closer and put his hand on hers where they were shaking together on her knees. "It's okay. Take as long as you-"

"He's still here!" It tore out of her throat like a living thing. Wanda felt Sam tense slightly, but pushed on before he could say anything. "And I know what you will think- I know what anyone would think if they knew. You will say I am imagining things because- because grief and trauma and- but I know those things. It is not that. I- I am not going mad. I don't see things that aren't there. I think-" Wanda swallowed hard and forced herself to look at him. "I think I am doing it on purpose."

~

She didn't worry anymore when he spent half the night elsewhere after about a year. It still upset her. But it was a dull pinprick instead of the vulnerable wound it had been the first time. He never stayed a full night with anyone. That was their compromise. That and he never left her unless they had somewhere safe to sleep for the night.

Wanda didn't sleep while he was away. She didn't like to admit she couldn't. Instead, she read. Or studied. Her English was nearing fluent. His was less so, but he only spoke if he knew the words he needed, so he could fool most people.

"You stayed up for me."

He said it every time, just like she stayed up every time. They needed their little rituals.

"What is it tonight, Ves'tacha?"

"Jane Eyre."

"Another American."

"My one and only true love Charlotte was English."

"What's it about?"

She explained the plot while he kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed with her.

"That is fucked up."

"I know. It's my favorite so far."

Wanda marked her page and readjusted herself to settle her arms around his waist. Her cheek on his shoulder, she could see the dark bruises over his throat and collarbones.

"Who was it this time? Who should I tell to keep her teeth to herself?"

"Sylvestere."

"Hm." She was already half asleep and barely had a thought to spare for this first time he had been with a man. "Do you like him?"

"I don't know. Different than the girls."

Wanda snorted. "I should think so."

Chapter Text

Wanda was brought along on more and more missions, as time went on. None more exciting than surveillance. Every time she saw a report on the Avengers on television now, she laughed. The news crews made their lives seem much busier and more exciting than they were. But she was thankful none of the reports included her yet. It seemed they didn't want to mention her until she did something truly interesting.

November, then December came dark and cold. It snowed and Wanda felt drawn to be outside. But whenever she stepped out into the cold, her mind flew through memories she didn't want to touch, so she spent as much time as she could indoors.

It was alright. She was reading more than she'd ever had the opportunity to before. The Vision had started to recommend books he thought she might like. He was usually laughably wrong, but she appreciated the gesture all the same. She didn't interact much with the others beyond training. Even less than before.

Sam had promised not to tell anyone. He didn't want to keep it a secret, and for a horrible moment, Wanda had wondered if she could erase the memory of what she had told him from his mind if she wanted to. She thought she could. But thankfully, he agreed that it was her information to divulge.

Wanda was desperate to take it back. No matter how hard Sam tried not to- and she knew he was trying- he looked at her differently now. Like she was too dangerous to stay near, but too dangerous to leave on her own. He believed her, and it was worse than if he thought it was all in her mind. Neither of them had said it, but what her mind and powers were doing was a mess of ethics and slippery slopes she didn't want to admit she was halfway down already.

Sam kept his promise, but she still felt her pulse race every time one of them asked to speak to her. Especially Steve. Wanda felt cold imagining what Steve would be forced to do if he knew what she was doing. She found herself reading him more and more. It felt like a betrayal, but not enough of one to make her stop. She needn't have worried. Steve didn't know. None of them knew.

It was halfway through the month and they were staked out on a hillside rock outcropping, watching trucks moving into an abandoned military compound in Michigan. It hadn't taken long for Wanda to realize she could create warmth after the experiments. So she and Steve sat comfortably on the rocks in their field uniforms. They watched the compound as well as kept an eye on the others, patrolling at a safe distance.

"Sure come in handy, don't you?" Steve passed her one of the protein bars from the rucksack they'd brought.

"I guess. Might have to start paying me."

He laughed and made a note of Natasha and Sam's latest perimeter circuit off in the distance. "You know you've got an account to draw from any time if you need anything."

Wanda nodded and considered letting the topic go, but they had been sitting there for hours with nothing interesting happening.

"I'd rather be paid to do something than just have what I need whenever I like."

To her surprise, he let out a small huff of a laugh.

"What? Why do you laugh at me?"

"Sorry-" he was grinning. "Just something Buck used to say. 'Royals- Fifth Avenue- they ain't got a thing on the kinda turn-your-nose-up pride that comes from growin up hard in the city.'"

She considered this a moment, then smiled. "It is true in Sokovia. So it must be the same in New York."

"Sure is. I know I'm biased, but I think we're the worst in Brooklyn."

"We must ask someone to judge. Make a wager."

"Oh- now we're talking."

For a moment, Wanda thought he meant the proposed bet. But then she saw the men in black uniforms pouring out of the truck at the gate.

"Bazzd meg-"

He hushed her with a wave of his arm and they both crouched down behind a rock.

"Activity report, Scarlet Witch." His voice was barely above a breath as they watched the men jogging through the snow below them.

"There's at least thirty. They are trained. They look-" she broke off. She couldn't say it out loud in case she was wrong. She would sound paranoid and obsessive.

"They're Hydra. And-" The last few men exited the latest truck, dragging a figure with a bag over its head. "They have at least one prisoner."

Wanda swallowed. Steve looked over at her. Amazingly, there was a small grin quirking his lips.

"I know a gal who might have a problem with that."

Wanda thought she might start shaking- but her hands were steady on the rock in front of her. Everything looked too sharp and too clear. The soft wind over rocks and cold were calling her back to the wooded mountains around the castle.

"Don't you think she might..." she swallowed again. "Be too angry for this?"

"I think she's pretty damn good at directing her anger these days."

"He has more faith in you than you have in yourself."

Really, Wanda was surprised he hadn't said anything earlier. He'd been there the whole time. And he was right. But Steve's faith was misplaced. She knew better.

"What has happened to you? My sister always had faith in herself like devote people have faith in God."

Her face felt hot even though the wind was picking up. She felt a strange level of calm as she lifted herself into the air and let the momentum carry her down to the valley. The men in uniforms cried out when they saw her and she wished they weren't wearing goggles so she could see the fear in their eyes.

~

The authorities and news crews showed up before they even finished securing the area. Wanda thought it was some kind of grim metaphor to see the police arrive fifteen minutes after the news crews. Steve was the one to greet both. He was a familiar face to all.

"You think you'll need media coaching?" Sam was helping ice the knee she had twisted when she landed on the snow wrong. He was teasing her, but there was a note of tension in his voice. They both knew who was in charge of the Avengers's public image.

"I think I will just pretend I speak no English."

"Well- they might wise up pretty quick when they see us talking. Might have to brush up on my Magyar."

It felt good to joke, even if there was real anxiety behind it. Wanda could feel them slowly returning to their comfortable level of friendship after what she had told him. She knew it still scared him- the thought that she was creating a presence with her powers that didn't really exist. But he knew she was terrified of changing in his eyes and he wanted to be who he had always been to her- one of her first true friends in the "after."

" Most megtudhatod, gyorsan."

"Nem, túl hülye."

"Hey- Wanda? Could you come here a second?"

She and Sam exchanged a look at Steve's call. He helped her to stand and to hobble over to where Steve spoke to a reporter. Wanda was happy to see that the crew was packing away their camera.

"Wanda, these people are from the news."

"I see this."

Steve gave her a tight smile that said being dry and flippant was fine at the compound, but not in front of the press. Wanda pulled up a less sulky expression and stuck out the hand that wasn't gripping Sam's arm to stay upright.

"I'm sorry. Hello."

"It's an honor to meet you." The man that shook her hand didn't look much older than she was. "I'm Mark Reynolds from the channel five news. The Captain says not only are you new to the team, but you were the first Avenger on the scene today."

It seemed like a simple statement, but suddenly, Wanda wasn't sure she spoke English anymore. The entire crew was watching her expectantly.

"I- We were all here."

The reporter gave her a bland sort of smile and glanced expectantly at Steve.

"Wanda, these guys have all their footage they need. They just need to fact check, not interview you."

"We just need your name and a few basic details so we don't have any errors in the report."

Wanda nodded dumbly.

"Could you spell your name for me, please?"

"Um- Wanda. W-A-N-D-"

"Wanda!"

She and Sam both jumped at the same time at the Vision's voice.

"Viz- what-"

The Vision had floated down next to them without warning. The reporters seemed taken aback by his sudden and unconventional appearance. Wanda had to force herself not to laugh.

"Your heart rate and stomach acid production is high. Are these men distressing you?"

Sam actually snorted and muttered something that sounded like "robot Mr. Darcy." Wanda elbowed him and he coughed.

"I'm fine, Viz, I just-"

"You are using Mr. Wilson for support. Are you injured?"

"Viz-" she grabbed him by the arm and hobbled away from the knot of people who were watching the exchange so closely. Her leg throbbed, but she ignored the pain. "Can you just not do this right now?"

She knew she would apologize for snapping at him later, but she was flushing and very aware that Sam, Steve, and the reporters were still watching her back.

He stared at her a moment, clearly surprised at the outburst.

"Of course."

Wanda felt a twinge of shame as he turned his back, but quickly pushed it aside so she could return to the men behind her.

"I'm sorry- what did you ask?"

~

"You look ridiculous, Ves'tacha."

"Don't be mean-" their father tugged at the collar of his leather jacket. "Leather jackets are still very cool. Right children?"

Pietro made a non-commital noise in the back of his throat and turned back to his coloring book.

"Looks kinda uncomfortable, Apa."

"It is very comfortable. And even if it wasn't, girls think men in leather are dangerous in wonderful and exciting ways."

Their mother scoffed in a skeptical kind of way as she scrubbed at a pan in the sink.

"Laugh all you like, but it worked on you, Drágám."

"In 1989- it is a new century."

Pietro shrugged and Wanda giggled.

"You think so, don't you Wanda?" He turned to her now, ignoring their mother's latest jibe. "You think leather jackets are still cool, don't you? You think they make your Apa look like a handsome rockstar?"

"Yes," she nodded enthusiastically. "Like the coolest rockstar there is, Stevie Nicks."

Their mother laughed so hard she had to sit down. Their father tried not to, but his lip twitched.

"At least one of you has decent tastes."

Chapter Text

Wanda had to be the one to bring it up. She hadn't been a complete embarrassment in front of the reporters, but she knew she needed help for the next time when a camera might be shoved in her face. She tried not to think of what she would look like- likely pale and stuttering, sounding like an idiot as everyone watching waited for her to show her powers. That's what everyone would be waiting for. And why she would have to do better than stammer if she didn't want the world to hate her for being a disappointment.

"You..." Steve replied to her request slowly. "You want to meet with Tony? And talk to him about press relations?"

She nodded, clasping her hands behind her back to keep herself from turning out her palm.

"I will be on camera eventually. I do not want to embarrass myself."

"There are... I mean- we could work on it. Rhodes is good with decorum and all that."

"Rhodey is not the official press representative."

Steve watched her carefully. She'd cornered him outside the locker room after training. His hair was still damp from the shower, and there was something less intimidating about him with his bangs drooping and everything else spiking out in odd directions.

"Wanda... I get that you don't want to be coddled, but do you really think this is a good-"

"I can't be afraid of him forever."

That was manipulative. Her therapist kept saying that anger was a secondary emotion, and that the primary one was usually fear. Saying that to Steve was just a way to show him how hard she was working in therapy. Which was a lie. Mostly a lie. But it worked.

Steve made the appointment without further argument. Wanda forced herself to focus on other things. And, as he usually did, The Vision fell into that category neatly.

"I'm sorry I was so rude to you on that mission."

It felt like a constant scene between them- her apologizing for handling a situation badly, though still feeling she was equally deserving of an apology. She tried to remind herself that he didn't understand things the way everyone else did. Or should. He needed more explanation in order to change his behavior.

"I must confess, I do not understand why you were upset with me."

Wanda sat across from him in hear usual library seat and took a deep breath, counting to ten like the therapist always wanted her to.

"I was talking to someone else, and you interrupted in a way that made me uncomfortable."

He frowned. "Forgive me, but I thought that it was a fair assumption that your safety was more important than manners."

Wanda tried not to roll her eyes. "But I was not in danger, Viz. Just like I was not in danger when you came into my room without asking. Do you really think I would be standing around talking with Sam and Steve and some reporter if I was truly in danger?"

He blinked at her as though this thought had not occurred to him. "But- your physical reactions were that of-"

"People's pulses go faster for many reasons. What if I thought the reporter was handsome?"

She was being flippant, because she forgot that he took everything at face value. If she hadn't forgotten, the whole situation would have stayed on track and they would have returned to their usual state of odd, formal closeness.

"That cannot be true. You are not sexually attracted to any man or woman."

"Excuse me?"

Wanda's whole head felt hot. She didn't talk to The Vision about this. She didn't talk to anyone about it. He went on, not seeming to have noticed that she was angry.

"You do not display the physical reactions of sexual arousal around any of our team members, who are all conventionally attractive to other men and women."

Wanda got to her feet so fast she nearly knocked over the small table and lamp at her elbow.

"Do you monitor my body? All the time?"

Her voice was shaking. She could feel mist growing in her palms. It was controlled and small, but she needed some way to vent the hot anger pounding in her veins. She couldn't remember ever feeling so humiliated.

"I mainly keep an eye on your vital signs for safety concerns, but I have made other observati-"

Wanda wanted to hurt him, but realized she didn't know how. Instead she settled for allowing the nearby light bulb in the lamp to burst and storming from the library without another word.

~

Sam drove her into the city to the tower. He didn't say anything about where she was going or why. Instead, he focused on asking her advice about the girl at the deli he'd been flirting with lately. He was trying to make it seem like this trip was barely worth a mention and Wanda was grateful.

"I think you should just ask her to dinner."

"Well, I don't want to freak her out."

"If asking her to dinner freaks her out how are you ever supposed to date her?"

"The chase is half the fun anyway."

Wanda grimaced. "Okay, Dr. Lector."

"See?" He laughed. "This is what I need you for. I don't wanna creep her out with my Hannibal vibes. So would you be uncomfortable if some guy you flirted with at work a couple of times asked if you wanted to have dinner with him?"

She shrugged and stared at the traffic lights sliding past outside her window.

"I don't flirt with anyone, so I wouldn't know."

"That's right," he gave her a thoughtful frown. "You really don't, do you?"

Wanda shrugged and played with the zipper on her jacket. After her fight with The Vision, she was feeling bitter and reckless on the subject. Reckless enough to have this conversation with anyone but him.

"No. I don't."

"Too much beefcake in your social circle for your tastes?"

She hit him in the shoulder when he laughed at the face she pulled.

"No- I just don't want anyone." She felt like she should feel uncomfortable talking about this. People were supposed to feel uncomfortable talking about sex. Especially people who didn't have it.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Sam is attracted to you?"

Wanda tried to ignore this, but it made her feel flushed and embarrassed. She never liked people seeing her that way, but she liked it even less when she enjoyed their company. The idea of Sam looking at her that way was almost unbearable.

"Not anyone. Ever. Guess there's something wrong with me."

"Naw," Wanda almost hadn't noticed, but they were pulling into a parking garage under Stark Tower. "Tesla didn't like anybody either. You know- the electricity guy? Nicola Tesla. World famous asexual."

Wanda shook her head. His distraction wasn't working anymore. Not with the Stark logo staring at her from every available surface as he parked and they stepped out of the car.

"Point is, it's not that weird. And might kind of work out okay, way things have been with you and-"

But she wasn't listening anymore. There was a sharp ringing in her ears and she swore she could taste concrete dust.

"Are you going to do what we have always wanted? Will you finish it? Are you going to kill him?"

She nearly choked on her tongue.

"Shut the fuck-" Wanda cut herself off, but it was too late. "I'm so-"

"Whoa- sorry. I didn't mean- I'll lay off teasing about the Vision if it bothers you that much."

"No- I-" she swallowed. "I wasn't ta- ...I wasn't listening."

Wanda kept her eyes on the asphalt under her feet so she wouldn't have to see him realize what had just happened.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what she was apologizing for- cursing at him, or cursing at someone who wasn't there. "I don't- I don't do that. Not when other people are arou-"

"Don't apologize, Wanda. I-"

"Mr. Wilson, Miss Maximoff-"

Wanda jumped at FRIDAY's voice. She felt stupid that she hadn't realized the AI was likely used in this place too. It's not like she didn't know where it had come from. But it felt like a betrayal to be reminded. Like the compound was tainted and she just hadn't noticed. She did her best not to think the same of The Vision. It would only make her more angry with him for something he couldn't control.

"You are expected in the top floor office. Please step into the third elevator on your left."

~

They boarded a plane for the first time to get to Wakanda. It wasn't a passenger plane, and they sat in a huge cargo space, but it was still flying. Pietro threw up almost immediately and spent most of the journey with his head between his knees on the floor.

"You have a stronger stomach than your brother."

She didn't feel stronger. She wanted to be curled against him in the corner. But she didn't much like the idea of both of them looking vulnerable in front of the metal man. He scared them. More than all of the Avengers together had. They weren't supposed to be scared anymore. Others were supposed to be afraid of them. That was the benefit of everything that had happened to them. They had grown accustomed to being frightening for a change.

"I have to be better than him at something, I suppose."

"You treat the differences between the two of you cavalierly. It's..." he searched a moment for the right word. "Childish."

"We are the same." Her voice was too weak to sound like a real argument. The metal man who did not fear them certainly made her feel childish.

"Upon first meeting," he went on, as though her protest wasn't worth a response. "I thought that you were the brains and he was the muscle."

Wanda forced a snort. "And now?"

"Now that I know you are both, I do wonder what he has to offer."

He told them the plan soon after. It made Wanda feel sick. She could feel Pietro shaking next to her. He had managed to stand once he realized what Ultron was telling them.

"We won't do that-" he spat- " The reason we want Stark dead is because of what he did to civilians in our home!"

"If you want to break an egg- oh wait-"

"We won't set A Szörny loose on a city." He gripped her hand and she tugged on it to make him shut up.

She didn't like the way Ultron was looking at him. As if he couldn't decide if he was any use or not. Pietro looked to her next, expecting her to join him in the hard stance he had taken.

"Wand-"

"This is the best plan we have." Her voice was still small, but flat now. Flat like it was when she didn't want a fight. "Pietro-"

"Did you really expect no one to be hurt on your mission of revenge?"

Wanda didn't think what essentially amounted to a walking computer should be able to sound so condescending. She squeezed Pietro's hand in the hopes it would distract him enough to keep his temper.

"Wanda-" he switched languages. With a sinking feeling, Wanda realized it was probably no use. "You can't want this. We don't want this."

"It's not about what we want," she lifted her chin and held his gaze, silently praying he would let this go. She didn't think Ultron had any use for anyone who argued with him. And he didn't seem the type to keep things around that he didn't have any use for.

Pietro held her eyes for a moment, incredulous, hurt and confused. But he knew her "wait" expression well enough not to continue the argument. He cursed violently and kicked a nearby crate before flashing to the other side of the cargo bay. Wanda winced at the crashes and didn't look at Ultron.

"Ah- I understand now." He made the motions of laughter. She still couldn't think of him as human enough to laugh. "Not brains and brawn, but head and heart." Then, after a moment, "it is why you could survive without him, but not he without you."

Chapter Text

Sam looked like he wanted to return to their previous subject, but Wanda strode purposefully to the open elevator before he could say anything. The carriage shot up faster than any Wanda had ever been in, but the motion was so smooth she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been facing the clear outside.

"You alright, Max?"

Wanda still wasn't looking at Sam. She wished she could make herself meet his eyes- force herself to give him a weak smile to assure him she was still present in one way or another. But the best she could do was nod down at the city as it dropped away from them.

"Fine. I'm fine."

"You want me in there, or-"

"No." She tried not to speak too quickly. "I will be alright."

There was a thin strawberry blond woman sitting at a desk on the floor where the elevator stopped. She gave them a tight smile and got up as they approached.

"Good afternoon, Sam." She nodded to him before putting out her hand to Wanda. "You must be Miss Maximoff. It's good to meet you. Pepper Potts- Vice President."

"Um- Wanda." She couldn't decide if her hate spread to this woman or not. She settled on a blank expression and no more words than necessary.

"Mr. Stark-" there was a stiffness in the way the woman said the name- "is expecting you. Please- follow me."

Sam gave her an encouraging smile and dropping into one of the armchairs near a large potted plant.

"Good luck, Max."

"Thanks."

She was hyper-aware of the spot on her heel that the shoes Natasha had lent her rubbed. She hadn't wanted to dress nice, but Steve had given her a look that said she was supposed to be making an effort with this visit when she came to breakfast in ripped stockings and eight bracelets on each wrist. So she knocked on Natasha's door and asked to borrow a few more professional items. Their shapes were too different for the older woman's well tailored wardrobe, but Wanda's red sundress looked more straight laced with sheer black tights, pumps, and a trim blazer. The shoes were a better fit than anything else and made her feel tall and intimidating. Except when she forgot to balance and put a foot down sidewise every few steps.

Pepper opened a smooth, flat door across the lounge. Wanda braced herself, like she was going for the first swim of the spring in the river. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost hear Pietro sneaking up behind her to give her a push into the icy water.

"Mr. Stark, your 3:00 is here."

If Wanda had thought the woman's voice was clipped before, it was nothing compared to what it sounded like now. She decided at once that she did not, in fact, hate Pepper Potts.

"Wonderful, great."

He was sitting slumped in a high-backed, sloped office chair behind a desk. Wanda tried to reconcile the image with the Iron Man. Tony Stark. Cold-hearted genius of destruction. He was eating granola from the bag.

"So- Scarlet Witch, huh? I like it. Spooky and just the right level of dramatic for your whole-" he gestured vaguely at her.

Wanda watched him as he sealed up the bag and put his feet up on the desk. He wore the same brand of Sneakers that Pietro found in his size in the locker room before the battle. When she didn't say anything, he cleared his throat and took a drink from the water bottle at his elbow.

"You know, Pepper can get you something if you want. Coffee, tea- tequila? I don't know what the kids these days are drinking."

Wanda shook her head. She watched him shift uncomfortably in his seat. She didn't know what she wanted, now that she was standing in front of him. She didn't know what she wanted to say. She didn't even know what she wanted him to feel when he looked at her. Pain? Remorse? Fear? That at least she had already given him once before.

"So- down to business, huh?"

He gestured to a plush looking seat, but she stayed where she was. When it was clear that she would not make herself comfortable, he got to his feet and rounded the desk to lean against it. Wanda had to force herself not to take a step back.

"So- usually, you'll have time to prep before anything like an interview. And in that case, you will have prepared remarks so you don't misspeak. It seems easy, but when you've got about fifty people shoving cameras in your face, it kind of sucks, trust me."

Wanda still didn't say anything.

"So- what is the part you're most concerned about? Maybe we could start there and the-"

"Do you know why we hate you?" She didn't bother to correct the plural or the tense.

He didn't look particularly surprised. But he looked down as he buttoned his suit jacket. After fussing with the lay of his clothes a moment, he met her eyes firmly.

"I killed your parents."

This, she had not expected. Not "I made the bombs used on your city." Not "You blame me for the deaths of your parents." But "I killed."

Wanda opened her mouth, then closed it as she had nothing to say to this. He straightened up and waved a hand as he slowly paced towards the window on the east side of the office.

"After you uh-" he fiddled a hand near his temple to indicate the fear she could plant. "I looked you up right away. The two of you. SHIELD had access to all kinds of records before the fall and the suit did a scan on both of you to store DNA info."

She wondered if this invasion of their privacy was meant as payback for what she had introduced to his mind. It felt like it, to some degree.

"So... Wanda Rozalia and Pietro Ferencz Maximoff. Mom worked in a bindery, Dad taught high school. They had you real young- took a year and a half after you were born to save up for a marriage certificate. Had their fair share of struggle, but they kept a roof over you all, which is more than most families in the city can say."

Wanda wondered if she should hate him more for memorizing all of this. She couldn't imagine what he hoped to accomplish by reciting it all to her. But, as she still didn't have anything of her own to say, she allowed him to continue without interruption.

"Sokovia is a border city in a corner between three countries, all of which are allies with the United States. I wish I could tell you those bombs were sold under the table without my knowledge before I took full control of my company... but it was a legal sale. The kind of thing we would have written a press release about. Something about ensuring freedom and unified democracy and that sort of thing."

Wanda tried to pretend her breath wasn't rattling and squeezing her chest. This wasn't an excuse, but it wasn't an apology either. Stark kept wandering around his office- not as deliberate as pacing, more like an art patron at a gallery.

"You kids were ten. Relief efforts were a mess. You weren't rescued for days and were treated at the hospital for various injuries. The rescue teams shifted some rubble wrong and the two of you were lucky to survive getting pulled out. Various wounds on both of you. Shock, dehydration, starvation. The usual. Your... you always wear those high socks, even in summer. Your legs and your brother's arms had about sixty stitches between you two."

She wanted to throw things at him. To scream. To tell him to never look at her again and delete all his horrible files. But the shade was not here with them in the office. And she was curious how far he would go in detailing their life.

"Skipped out on the orphanage. On the run until you aged out of the system. Off and on again relationship with the local police department. Mostly petty theft and breaking and entering. Especially during winter storms. Thefts were usually food or toiletries. You tried to focus on chain stores when you could. Pretty typical of homeless kids in close-knit communities."

Here, he paused and fussed with his cuffs again. Wanda did not help him return to his track. Like the first time she saw Clint in his kitchen, she was struck by how small he was. She was sure he was only an inch taller than her. He was supposed to be large and cold and marble smooth. He wasn't supposed to have dark circles under his eyes and tennis shoes and badly chewed fingernails.

"Here's... where things get a little fuzzy. Strutger kept records, but I think it's well established that he was a certified bad dude feeding reports on his projects to a fairly lawful organization. He kept hidden records of course, but there were different versions of false ones at the base as well as what was sent to SHIELD. Probably for personnel with lower clearance. So... we've only got a guess as to how bad things were in that place. Thinkin it's not something you want to go over with me of all peo-"

"They cut us and burned us to see how fast we could heal." She didn't know why she was telling him, other than that she just wanted to prove he couldn't guess what she would do or say. "They injected us with heroin and other things. But even before we found we could control our powers, we began to kill the scientists and guards when they came near us. So they locked us away."

He held eye contact with her while she spoke but scratched his nose when she was finished.

"That's... in line with what we thought, I guess."

"What will you do with this information?" The words were coming easily now, like she had planned the conversation in detail. There was no shade in the room with her, but she felt close to Pietro, like when she used to know that he was thinking the exact things she was saying, or visa versa. "Will you report back to Steve that I have a history of lethal outbursts when frightened or in pain?"

To her surprise, he offered her a strained, dry smile that didn't show any teeth. "You think our Stevie would listen to me?"

Wanda didn't know what to say to this. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. The movement made all the blood pooled in her feet flow again. She hoped she didn't sway to visibly at the headrush. If Stark noticed, he didn't mention it.

"Anyway, we've all done things we aren't proud of. I'm sure not going to be the one to cast the first sto-"

"I am not ashamed of what we did to them." Her mouth was now moving without her desire or permission. She was mindlessly contradicting him just because she wanted to take something from him and all she could grasp was control of the conversation. "They are the least of what we have done."

He stared at her, waiting for elaboration. But he already knew the results of their involvement with Ultron. She just wanted him to lie awake all night and wonder if there was more.

"Do you think it matters, Stark? That you have saved some after killing so many?"

He was not ready for this question and she took a moment to enjoy his discomfort.

"To me it does."

Neither of them said anything for over a minute. there was something surreal about the scene. The walls and ceiling looked too white. The sun was shining too aggressively through the windows and it was making her eyes water.

He looked like a child, she decided. Apart from the lines around his eyes. Apart from the flecks of grey in his dark hair and the fact that they were in a building he owned and ran. Apart from that, he looked like a little boy in a suit someone else had picked out for him.

"I am going now."

He nodded and straightened up. He made no move to shake her hand, but she could see him struggling to think of a distant but polite gesture of goodwill.

"Fair enough. And- I- You two did good- with the injections and all."

She watched him while he struggled to find the words for what he needed so badly to tell her before she left.

"I know what it's like-" he finally blurted, like he was half afraid of how she would react. "Not wanting it, but feeling like you need it. And bein mad as hell because you're supposed to be smarter than that. The suit's scan when I first met you- you two had been clean for months. It's easier to find narcotics in Sokovia than food, but when given the choice, you two stayed off it."

Wanda let the door snap behind her before she was forced to acknowledge any more commonalities between them.

~

Their mother was not estranged from her family. "Complex" was the word she used. They saw members of her family, but usually one or two at a time- never in groups. But when her favorite sister was married, the bride told the entire extended family that if they could not treat all of her guests civilly, they would have to leave.

Their mother was nervous about the event, but the two of them barely noticed. They had new clothes and Wanda was even allowed to wear a small, sparsely decorated hip shawl. Pietro was jealous until he was given a bracelet to match so they both made noise when they moved.

And there was nothing for their mother to be anxious about. Some of the older relatives did not know how to treat the twins and their father, but kept any negative judgments to themselves as their mother's siblings and cousins practically shrieked at seeing them. Once the ceremony was over, it seemed everyone in the bride's family flocked to them at once. Wanda and Pietro tried to scowl as everyone touched their faces and ruffled their hair. Really, they didn't mind the attention and liked it when everyone told them how tall they had gotten.

They barely noticed that all of the adults, though amiable, seemed not to know how to act around their father. They seemed to settle on nodding politely and small, tight smiles. If he noticed, he acknowledged none of it.

But after the first few songs of the celebration after dinner, the bride grabbed him by the hand, her chin lifted in defiance as she dragged him out to dance. Everyone was already having far too much fun to care that the bride had chosen to dance with her sister's gadjo husband. He laughed and took it in stride when he couldn't follow any of the steps and ended up looking foolish. Their mother tried to bury her smile in a glass of wine, but clearly quite enjoyed seeing him look so ridiculous.

There were plenty of cousins for the twins to dance and play with, so it was nearly sunrise before either of them realized they had never been allowed to stay up so late. Pietro could barely keep his eyes open but Wanda was almost afraid to blink in case she missed something. She was entranced by the colorful skirts swirling around as her aunts and cousins spun and jumped along to the music.

"Come on, you two," their father yawned as he tugged at their hair. "It is time to go home. You have had enough dancing."

They protested, even if they had been sitting on the floor, yawning, for the past hour. But eventually, they walked to the nearest bus stop and rode home. Their mother was unusually giggly and kept wrapping her arms around their father and burying her face in his shoulder. Their father seemed to find this very funny, and wouldn't stop grinning.

"You two are going to sleep like the dead, aren't you?" Their father poked them in the sides.

"No- we don't need sleep. Just more cake."

"No, you will sleep all day." Their mother yawned and burrowed further into her husband's side. "Good thing, too..."

"Why?"

"Because your Anya wants to stay up late and kiss."

"Ick."

Chapter Text

Sam invited her to come with him to visit his mother for the holidays. Wanda didn't want to go, but the alternative was staying at the compound. Clint was going home, and he kept on heavily hinting that he wouldn't be coming back any time soon. Between he, Rhodey and Sam visiting family, her lingering frustration with the Vision, and her suspicion that the only remaining team members she would have any desire to speak to would be a depressed Steve and possibly drunk Natasha, she accepted the invitation to leave. She and Sam had their best conversations in the car anyway.

"So..." he started, and the way he stretched out the word said she was not going to like what followed. "Can't help but notice you bein a little short with our favorite domestic Terminator."

"Short?" She knew what he meant, she just wanted time to decide whether or not to have this conversation.

"Annoyed. Or straight up angry."

"Oh. Yes." She decided she did want to talk about it, if only to confirm with someone else that she had a right to be angry with someone who did not understand emotion. "He monitors me- my pulse and things. And a few months ago, he came into my room when I had a dream. He apologized, but he still does not understand why all this upsets me."

Sam listened as she went on, listing everything that The Vision did that bothered her. Which felt like a lot, for someone she spent so much time voluntarily socializing with. But it felt good. She had never cared about two people enough to complain to one about the other. It felt cathartic in a petty sort of way.

"I know it is not his fault," she said after a breath. "But I am so tired of explaining my every thought and feeling to him. It is like taking care of a child. I'm-"

She cut herself off as she remembered.

"You're what?"

"I..." she crossed her arms, feeling vulnerable as she stared out the window. "I was going to say that I am not old enough for children. But... we were seven years old when our mother was this age."

"Wow. Puts things into perspective, don't it?"

She nodded and kept watching a hawk that was dipping and circling alongside the road.

"We are not 'kids' anymore, but I don't think we will ever be as old as our parents. It is impossible, I think."

"I-" it started out as a correction, but she sent the statement in a different direction for Sam's benefit. "I need to stop and use the toilet."

They had almost left the gas station when she saw it. She was hanging around behind Sam while he paid for his soda and chips, idly looking at the cigarettes and car appliances on display when a small choking noise pushed itself from her throat.

"Hey- you okay?"

Wanda pressed her lips together and grabbed the magazine and a few packs of Reeses to throw on top of the cover photos. She gave Sam a tiny, stiff nod to indicate she'd explain later. In the car, she hit him in the chest with the magazine.

"What? You just trying to tell me you're tired of chatting and want to check out some winter style-"

"Look."

She pressed her lips together while she waited. He laughed loud and sudden, just like she knew he would, once he saw it.

"Holy shit!"

"I am in love, Sam. Sorry I did not tell you."

"'The Scarlet Witch, the newest Avenger:'" he read, barely keeping his voice steady. "'The mysterious past, powers and love life.' You have got to be kidding me."

"Give it back. You drive- I will read."

"Okay, but if we crash cuz I'm laughing, it's your fault. You and your mysterious-ass love life."

The article had almost nothing right. They didn't even know where she was born. But they made a valiant effort at guessing. As for her powers, they had figured out her ability to fly, and that she could manipulate and move things with her mist, but thankfully didn't know the specifics of anything else. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of the general public knowing how she read.

"But that is not all. It seems that Miss Maximoff has found more than teammates among the famous group of heroes." At this point, both she and Sam were laughing and barely able to breathe. "The latest member of the team has been seen getting very close with the hero- none other than Steve Rogers, Captain America himself."

"It's just a picture of him helping get your boot off when your ankle was acting up last month. How is that romantic?"

"Maybe they think he is into feet."

"I swear to God if you make me think about Steve suckin someone's toes I will crash this car."

When they were near Sam's mother's city, they stopped at a drugstore and bought every gossip magazine they could find with a mention of the team. There weren't many, but the ones they found were worth every penny.

"Clint and Natasha have secretly been married since the 90s."

"Makes sense. Ooo- The Vision is secretly built by the Russians."

"Those vintage men's haircuts are all Steve's fault."

"Well, that one's true."

They were sprawled out on the plush couches of his mother's living room. Wanda didn't know what Sam had told the woman about her, but she wasn't very good at acting like she didn't know it. She looked at Wanda with wide, empathetic brown eyes and seemed on the verge of giving in to the inherent need to embrace her. Thankfully, Sam had pointedly reminded her that she had a lot of baking to do and he and Wanda holed themselves up with the magazines and a stack of James Bond movies playing quietly in the background.

"They can't decide if I am with Steve or Clint."

"No- I think you're with both. Stringing them along. Must be hard- with all of us living in the same building."

"I'm very good at being promiscuous."

"I'm not in a whole lot-" Sam flipped through a new edition. "Guess I don't get a love life."

"How sad. Do you think it is a normal human thing or a race thing?"

"Probably both."

"Probably."

"You on the other hand, are dating anyone you've ever stood next to."

"I don't know which is stupider."

They spent most of the afternoon laughing at the articles and captioned pictures. Just when Wanda thought the magazines had lost their appeal, there was another ridiculous claim that sent them into another spiral of aching laughter.

"Bazzd- shit. Pietro would have loved this."

It took all day to force herself to say it. She had decided before they set out that she was going to try to start mentioning him casually to Sam. She wanted to stop the sick, guilty feeling that she was depriving her closest friend of a part of herself. Wanda knew it was a feeling that would never die completely, but she hoped giving him little details would weaken it.

Sam didn't respond right away. Likely from surprise. The only times she had mentioned him to Sam, it had been under some kind of emotional duress or because omitting a mention from the conversation would say more.

"Yeah? He like to tease you about guys?"

"Sometimes. But I think they would write stupid things about him too."

"Yeah?"

"But they would be wrong. He would fall for you in an instant."

This startled a full laugh from him.

"That a fact?"

"Yes. He would be very annoying about it."

"Well, I'm flattered. I think."

"Not sure you should be. He didn't always have the best tastes."

"You know it is rude to out people like this."

They were still laughing, but it was lighter and lower than over the magazines. It felt deeper in Wanda's stomach too. She was letting her eyes wander over to the side of the room where the shade was sitting. For the first time in what felt like months, she let herself make eye contact as she turned onto her side and hugged a throw pillow to her chest.

"He would be very annoyed with me for telling you this." He scowled and crossed his arms as she refused to look away. "But not really."

"I always thought twins couldn't stay mad at each other."

"We never were."

She had meant for this just to be a single statement. But now neither of them were laughing, and she was still looking at him like he was a real part of the conversation.

"We couldn't be really angry at each other because we were the same.'

She didn't elaborate, and Sam didn't ask her to, but he must not understand what she meant. Wanda shredded the corner of the last magazine in her stack, concentrating hard on her chipped nails.

"The real question is, would you have chased me off? The whole 'you break his heart, I break your face' routine seems like your kind of style."

Sometimes she thought Sam could read her the way she read others.

"Just your face? It would be your whole body."

~

They spent a lot of time in the police station holding cell. They had an interesting relationship with the local officers. There was obvious dislike, of course, but they knew one another. They had gone to school with some of the younger officers on the force for years. It was hard to spit at someone who sat next to you in the third grade.

There was also the occupying military forces. Even at their wildest and angriest, the two of them knew that cooling off in the holding cell was preferable to anything the soldiers could do.

"Hey- Sylvie!"

"My name is Officer Tarhov."

"Yeah, okay, Sylvie," Wanda kicked at the bars of the holding cell. He'd picked them up for getting in a fight outside their favorite bar. It was a regular occurrence. "Pietro needs the toilet. Let him out."

"It's officer Tarhov now, Wan- Miss Maximoff. And you two have already taken your bathroom breaks."

"Well, he's had twice the drinks I have tonight, so things are about to be messy in a moment."

The officer groaned and reached for the keys at his belt as he got up. Wanda waited for him to cross the cell and nudge Pietro, lying on the floor, with his toe before she lunged forward and grabbed the keys in his loose hand.

"Hey! Wanda- seriously?"

But she was already out of the cell, and once he was fully focused on her, Pietro pushed himself up off the floor and was out before she pulled the door shut.

"Too slow!" He locked the cell and tossed Wanda the keys. "Can't believe you didn't see that coming, Sylvie."

"Can't you two just-"

"That's what you get for always taking the good markers on art day, bastard."

Chapter Text

Things were so calm and stable for so long that Wanda started feeling sick and afraid for no real reason. Winter held flat and chill for months. She stayed inside whenever she could, as the wind on her face felt too familiar and almost let her forget for whole seconds at a time.

She made up with and fought with the Vision in a fairly regular cycle. She spent most of her time with Sam, and more time than she cared to admit missing Clint. He hadn't come back after the holidays. Everyone seemed to have known it, even if there was no discussion of the subject as far as Wanda had heard. She supposed there was no official Avengers retirement plan, but she would have expected a team meeting at the very least.

Wanda thought that none of them noticed how bad she was getting. How her stomach always felt like the bottom had just dropped out and her head was full of cotton and thick dust. Her meetings with the therapist went by without incident and Wanda knew she shouldn't feel proud of herself for doing an impeccable impression of someone who was whole. But it felt like the most impressive thing she had accomplished lately.

The missions had lost most of their appeal. There was little they managed to do except surveillance and the occasional assisted arrest with the local police. Training blurred together in a fuzzy shade of grey and sometimes she forgot if they were on a real mission or a drill.

Wanda didn't have a plan when she snuck out late in the night. She just needed something. She took the little bit of money she had and caught the late night bus into the nearby town. FRIDAY asked her if she wanted the others woken up when she was halfway out the door. She told the AI not to worry them.

The bus was empty aside from the driver. He didn't say anything to Wanda for the whole ride and she briefly enjoyed the fantasy that she wasn't really there- that she was a lost spirit, wandering around without a visible body. If she leaned back into the corner between the seat back and the wall, it felt... nothing like curling up with Pietro after a night of drinking downtown. But she could pretend it was similar, if she concentrated on the weak, flickering lights and rumble of the seat.

She got out at the stop nearest the grocery store. It was the only place in the sleepy excuse for a town she went to on a regular basis. It was closed, of course, but she hung around the front doors for a few minutes, feeling stupid for not having a plan. It was snowing- sharp, tiny granules that blew off the roofs in thicker gusts than from the sky.

"This is dumb."

"I know."

She shoved her hands deep in the pockets of the coat Steve had bought her sometime in November. It was enormous and slippery and fell well past Wanda's knees. It looked ridiculous, but it was warmer than anything she'd ever worn before. She wouldn't tell Steve how much she appreciated it, as she had already logged too many hours complaining about how un-chic it was.

She wanted a cigarette. She hadn't smoked since before- and even then, not often, but it seemed right just then. For a moment, she considered using her mist to unlock the store and take a pack and lighter. But it seemed like a lot of effort for something she didn't want that badly.

"You're going to get sick and I'm not there to tell you it's your own fault for standing out in the cold."

"Has not stopped you yet."

There was no one out to hear her talking to herself. It was deathly quiet on the streets of the town. She didn't like it. She liked the seedy, sleepy activity of the city at this late night/early morning hour. It felt wrong that even the alleyways were empty.

"Are you done being dramatic yet?"

She ignored him and found the alley that felt most like home. It had a dumpster, but didn't smell rotten or damp. There was a small awning over the back door that kept most of the snow off the stoop. She stood around for a couple of seconds before sitting down and settling against the doorframe.

"So how is it? now that you have your own bed to compare?"

"You are bitchier, now that you're dead."

"Maybe it is the influence of your subconscious."

Wanda curled up as tight as she could, ducking her head so as much of her neck was covered by the collar of her coat as possible. It wasn't as effective a shelter with just one person. With no one behind her or leaning against her, the heat and hard surfaces seemed even worse. But there was enough tactile familiarity for her to fall asleep.

Her dreams were uncomfortably real. They were at Sam's mother's house in Jersey- all of them, including Pietro and their parents. All of them were arguing as if it were one big discussion, but none of their words fit together.

"You're avoiding the issue," their mother was toe to toe with Steve, shaking her head. "The compound isn't ready for spring."

"Really, Mrs. Maximoff, it's the windows that matter- they haven't been cleaned in months."

"But how can we expect to feed everyone?" Natasha was at the refrigerator, frowning critically like she did when Wanda was slow in drills. "We're completely out of eggs."

"We'll have to break out the pyrotechnics," Clint was chewing something as he spoke. "It's the only way."

"They're being stupid," Pietro muttered. He was flipping through the gossip magazines on the floor. "They're just mad I'm still here."

Wanda didn't bother pointing out that this had nothing to do with anything the others had said.

"They don't know." She was standing in front of him, as if her thin legs could block his much larger body from view.

"Sam knows."

She watched Sam where he stood in the corner, in what looked like a heated, though hushed discussion with their father.

"He hasn't told anyone. He wouldn't."

"You don't know that."

"I know him."

He just laughed. The others continued to argue with each other. Natasha and Stark stepped away from the kitchen and he yelled over everyone else.

"We don't harbor zombies!"

Pietro snorted loudly. "I told you."

"Miss? Alright, Miss. It's time to get up."

Wanda jerked awake, grabbing the wrist of the hand on her shoulder.

"Woah- hey now-"

She squinted through the bright sunlight as the wrist twisted out of her grip.

"What- I-"

It was hard to get words out when all her senses were being over-stimulated. With her sudden movement, the blood was flowing back to her legs and ass in painful tingles. She couldn't see through the blinding light and her watering eyes. None of the stranger's words made any sense when everything was backed with the sound of morning traffic.

"Miss? Can you understand me? Are you alright?"

Wanda blinked a few times and took careful breaths until she could focus on the man in the black coat crouching down over her.

"Can you hear me?"

She nodded and winced as her thighs throbbed where the edge of the stoop had cut off her blood flow.

"Are you alright? Do you know where you are?"

"I... I'm fine. I just fell asleep."

"Do you have somewhere to go here in town?"

"Not... not in town..."

"Alright, come with me. Can you get up?"

"No- I- I have to call them. I missed-" she reached into her pocked and her heart sank. She'd left her phone on her desk when she was getting dressed. "I... I don't have my phone," she finished in a small, lame sort of voice.

"Well, you can use the phone at the station, come on."

Wanda didn't want to go to the police station. She would have to tell them who she was and who she was calling. But she didn't really see any other option, so she hugged her coat tight around herself and kept her head ducked as he lead the way down Main Street.

It was somewhat more civil in the police station as a ragged lonely woman who fell asleep behind a cheap Italian restaurant than as a pair of drunks who got into a fight outside the nearest club. The officer that brought her in gave her a cup of coffee and offered her a padded plastic chair on the other side of his desk instead of a hard bench in the holding cell.

"Now that you're awake, I have a few questions."

Wanda took a few gulps of coffee and briefly considered pretending she didn't speak enough English to answer.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No."

"Using any narcotics?"

"I... I don't know-"

"Pills?"

"No."

"Needles?"

"No."

"Smoked anything you shouldn't?"

"No."

"Well, that's good. There a particular reason you were sleeping out in the cold last night?"

She pressed her lips together. She didn't feel like coming up with a lie.

"I... I wanted to go home. I was tired. And I... I fell asleep. For too long."

The officer nodded, but didn't seem entirely convinced. He made a few notes in a file and pushed the desk phone toward her.

"You can call someone to pick you up if-"

"I... I do not know the number."

"Where-"

"The compound. Up the road."

The officer looked at her for a moment. he seemed skeptical of this claim, but too polite to say so.

What did you say your name was?"

They had always had a negative gut reaction to strangers asking their names, but Wanda couldn't think of a better way out of the situation.

"Wanda. Maximoff."

If he didn't believe her, he was very good at faking it. He typed something into his computer and dialed a number into the phone. Wanda stared at her hands while he waited for someone to pick up.

"Oh- um, good morning, Miss... Friday. This is Officer Willis down at the county station. I have-" he cut himself off, frowning. "Yes, I'll hold."

Wanda started picking at the skin around her thumbnail.

"Oh- um- yes- Captain Rogers..."

She winced. Somehow, she had hoped someone else would answer the call. Not Sam, because he would worry it was related to what she had told him. Not the Vision, because he would interrogate her on what feelings could make her do something so illogical. She didn't really know who she wanted to answer, but knowing it was Steve made her feel sick.

"I have a Miss Maximoff here at the station-" he paused. "She's unhurt, but I think a little shaken up. She spent the night outside and I'm sure she could use a hot meal about now."

Wanda hated this more than any other part of the night. The idea of this police officer and Steve talking over how best to look after her. She felt like she was about to be sick the entire time he made arrangements for her to be picked up.

"They treat you like a child here. Even strangers. Haven't you noticed?"

~

Their father came back to the apartment with no wallet or keys, a split lip and swollen eyes once when they were six. Wanda could tell something was wrong when there was a knock on their door an hour after he normally came home. Their mother tried to look calm as she set down the pot she was scrubbing and dried her hands. She turned down the television as she passed where they were sitting on the floor, watching cartoons. Wanda watched over her shoulder as she opened the door and swallowed a scream.

"Anya-" Pietro turned at the sound.

"Go to bed, you two," their father winced as he tried to smile and it reopened some of the cuts in his face. "It's alright."

But their mother helped him to the table and into a chair before rushing around the kitchen for a bag of frozen vegetables and a warm rag. Wanda and Pietro had both scrambled to their feet and ran to him, spouting exclamations and questions.

"Apa-"

"What happ-"

"Hey come on-" he tried to fight up a grin again. "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise."

"Children- bed- now."

"But-"

"Listen to your Mama. She wants to worry over me in peace."

"But what-"

"Go!"

Their mother snapped at them so harshly that an instant lump formed in Wanda's throat. Knowing that Pietro would have the same reaction, she grabbed his hand and dragged him into the bedroom. They cried for a little while, but Pietro fell asleep soon enough- tired from the shock and hurt. Wanda stayed in their bed a little while longer, then got up and crept to the door. If she opened it slowly enough, it wouldn't creak.

"How many?"

"Four."

"Fucking cowards-"

"They were just kids." Wanda had never heard him sound so tired. There was a brief pause, then, "I recognized them. Brothers of some of my students." He let out a grim huff of a laugh. "Juliá and Adojan will have new coats by the end of the week."

Another pause. Wanda could feel her throat getting tight again as she watched through the crack in the door and saw her mother's soft pale blue rag was deep red.

"How... how much did they...?"

"Almost 300."

"We'll be fine. It's alright, we can just-"

"I'll sell my jacket and boots."

"My earrings-"

"No- Drágám- we don't have to-"

"How else will we make rent?"

Another long pause. Wanda hugged her knees to her chest when their father slammed his fist down on the table.

"I hate this city. I hate what it does to people. My students are cold so their families mug me, so I freeze so my children can eat. And I'll pretend I don't know who did it because reporting it just means my students will have no one to take care of them. And where does it end?"

"It ends when we leave. Somewhere where the twins have a chance."

Wanda went back to bed and wrapped the blanket around her head so she wouldn't have to hear any more. Leaving. The thought of leaving the city scared her more than the blood on their fathers face of the bruises blooming around his eyes. Those things she knew. Anywhere but the city was a terrifying unknown.

Chapter Text

Steve tried to act like no one had been worried when they woke up and found her missing. There wasn't even any paperwork for him to fill out at the police station, once the officers saw that he was, indeed, Steve Rogers. It seemed life was much more simple when you were Captain America.

He drove her back to the compound like this was a normal errand for the two of them. But he clearly couldn't think of anything to say that would make the experience more comfortable, so they sat in silence for most of the short ride.

"I'm... I'm sorry." She forced it out because it felt like the thing to say, not because she really was. Sometimes she wondered if she was ever truly sorry for the things she did.

"Your team's got your back, Wanda. We just want to be sure you're okay."

She nodded and watched out the window as the phone lines sped past. His words wouldn't seem to stick in her mind as he continued to speak.

"Please don't tell me you're going right back there so you have to listen to more of this."

"I have to go."

Steve stopped midstream with whatever inspiring and reassuring speech he was giving. Wanda cleared her throat and hugged her coat tighter around herself. Steve in silence was somehow the coldest situation she had ever found herself in. She hated the way his eyes reminded her of her grandfather.

"I- I need to visit the Bartons." Her voice stuck, so she cleared her throat again. "The children. They probably miss me."

If he thought this was a lame excuse, he didn't say so. They were quiet for a few more minutes before he started to speak again.

"You know Sempo?"

She'd never heard Steve speak so abruptly and Wanda almost didn't notice that he'd started. When she only blinked at him, he went on.

"Chiune Sugihara." He pronounced it carefully, like he'd practiced, but still wasn't sure he was saying it right.

Wanda shook her head, and kept staring at the road in front of them. She wasn't sure how much she liked talking to Steve alone like this, and counted the seconds until they made it into the garage where she could escape.

"When I- when they woke me up... I had a hard time." He cleared his throat. A sure sign that this would be a long tale. "I know it's not- it's a different situation. Don't think anyone could relate to exactly that, but the point is... I wanted to know everything I missed. And when I found out about what... what happened- what things were really like in Europe. Beyond the battlefield. I... well, I got low. It sounds crazy to everyone now, but we didn't know, Wanda. We knew it was bad. But... the kind of bad people all over the continent were facing didn't even exist until then. We had no concept. And to wake up from the middle of thinking I was fighting a normal war to find out the worst of it all... it was rough. All I could think about was the ones we couldn't save. The ones that died days before the camps were shut down. Hours. Seconds. And then there was New York. And I couldn't protect the city that raised me, let alone an entire continent."

If he thought this was comforting, he was wrong. Wanda felt her face getting hotter and her throat tighter with every word he spoke. She didn't want to hear any of this. She hated being reminded of the time Steve had seen. Of when he had lived.

"Then, a really wise lady who has not once put up with my inaction- ever- told me to get my ass to a library and look up the Japanese diplomat Chiune Sugihara. I was ready for more things that would keep me up at night- more of that same horror."

"What did he do?" It felt like the thing to ask. She asked it reflexively, her mouth numb to the motion she made to get the words out.

"Filled out paperwork in an office."

Wanda raised her eyebrows at him as he glanced from the road a moment and grinned.

"Not what you were expecting? Me neither. Sugihara was a diplomat assigned to an office in Lithuania. Tiny place- only a little bigger than Sokovia. So this guy isn't top brass. He's got a desk job. People don't look up when he speaks. They don't even notice he's there. And that's how he managed to write thousands upon thousands of exit visas for Lithuanian and Polish Jewish families."

She listened while he told her the story, feeling the fabric of the seat with her fingertips. She tried to turn her brain off again so that she wouldn't hear, but it seemed only to work when she didn't mean it to.

"So they sent him home. He got on the train and he was still writing visas and passing them out the window as it pulled away. And he apologized to the crowd when he ran out of paper."

She hated this. She wished he had never started speaking at all. She didn't want to be told stories of heroes. She wanted to sit comfortably in the knowledge that efforts to better the space around oneself were futile and would ultimately be undone with the passage of time and growing power of those who only cared for themselves.

"Why are you-"

"I'm telling you about this, because we do what we can. We fill out paperwork and we train and we have more missions where nothing happens than ones where we run into burning buildings to save babies. Sometimes what the world needs is for us to go home and take care of the people we care about. That's what Clint's doing. And what millions of people do every day. I know you've been angry and hurt for a long time, and you still are. But fighting doesn't always look the same."

"So?"

"So rest up and don't forget to keep in shape or else Nat's gunna lay you flat when you get back."

He'd meant to startle a laugh out of her and succeeded, if only because she might cry if she didn't laugh in that moment. She was so tired, and his words felt like the last drink that would put her to sleep.

"No, but I mean it. Do what you can with the paper you got. But take care of you first so you're around when we need you."

~

Wanda packed quickly in the hopes she wouldn't see the others and have to explain. To Sam. She didn't want to see Sam. She was afraid of finding out just what he had thought when they had all woken up to find her missing. The others might worry, but he knew the true depth of how valid that worry was.

"Goin on a trip, Max?"

She tried not to cringe and kept her back to the door. She didn't plan what to pack- just crammed things into tight balls of fabric.

"You left the door open. You wanted him to come in."

"I miss Barton." That wasn't even a lie. "I just need to see him for a few days, that's all."

"That why you went out last night? Cuz you missed Barton? Not for any other reason?"

Wanda concentrated on her rucksack. She had kept the one from the closet in the Bartons's spare room. It smelled like stale wood smoke. Wanda wondered if Clint would take her camping in the mountains if she asked.

"Like what?"

"I dunno. That's why I'm asking." A pause. "Cuz that's what we do, right, Max? Me and you. We talk about things. I got somethin on my mind, I tell you about it. Like when my mom tries to set me up with her friends' daughters. Or when Steve's bein an idiot."

"Do you have a point?"

She never talked to Sam like this. It felt ugly and vulgar. But right. It made her feel more confident in who she was. No matter what happened to her, she had always known how to make people hurt.

When she had nothing left to roll up and cram into her bag, she threw it over her shoulder and turned to see him. He was giving her the look she hated most. The one he gave her when he was scared of what she might do. It made her feel like there was glass standing under them and she was holding a brick. He shook his head.

"No. Guess not. Have a good trip, Wan-"

"The last thing I said-" it came out stumbling and fast, her words tripping over each other. She hadn't decided to tell him until it was already leaving her mouth. "Before. I said 'go.'  One word. I told him to leave my side because I could look after myself."

Sam stared at her, his expression hard to read before he nodded, still blank-faced, but firm.

"'Fuck off and fly right.'" He said it quietly, like he hadn't said it outloud for a very long time, but it had echoed in his mind for years.

Wanda nodded as well and tried not to let her relief show too much.

"I'll text you. I promise."

"Be thinkin about you the whole time you're gone."

~

Their voices were hoarse from shouting before the soldiers even arrived. The police stood ground, but would not use force if the protesters didn't. There was tension and shouting, but the stalemate almost never broke between neighbors.

The moment the shouting started- the kinds they could always discern as "other," even if it was in one of the languages of the city- things changed. Glass broke, rocks flew, and even the air tasted like blood.

"Disperse! Disperse peacefully and-"

"We stand together!"

"Link up! Link arms!"

They locked elbows with those around them and stamped their feet, trying to drown out the marching boots. Their pulses sang with the beat, as they always did. But there was another shout on the edge of the line and the gunfire started. Shots and screams filled the air as police, soldiers and protesters alike all broke formation.

"Wanda!"

She knew from the exact way he shouted they needed to get out. She knew his voice well enough to tell worry for her, from a plea from help, from true panic.

"Wanda- we have to get out- they are shooting-"

"We- we go to the market- fruit stall on the corner-"

"Back!" The nearest soldier blocked their path, but still shouted in their faces, his eyes shielded by his helmet, but his mouth twisted in an ugly snarl. "Get back, budos cigany!"

Wanda's face felt so hot she thought she might faint. Time felt slow for a moment, then sped up as her knuckles collided with the man's chin and she felt at least two fingers break. She felt Pietro's arm around her waist, pulling her back. And she felt it when they both lost their balance and somewhere between the pounding boots and pavement, they lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

She slept on the bus for most of the ride. Her internal clock would be ruined. For awhile somewhere in Pennsylvania, she wondered when the last time she had slept for longer than six hours at night was. She watched as small towns and farmland swept by, broken by the occasional forest. Wanda wondered how American nature managed to look so sparse and false at the same time.

Laura nearly screamed when she opened the door. She hopped awkwardly, then rushed inside to set the baby in her arms down on a blanket before sprinting back to the door to hug her.

"Oh- Wanda!" Laura smelled like potato peelings and plain soap. Wanda squeezed her eyes tight and buried her face in the older woman's shoulder. "I can't believe it!"

"H-hello. I was just-"

Wanda didn't know what to say now that she was there. Laura pulled away and beamed at her.

"Just in the area, huh?"

It felt like permission to skip the social niceties. Wanda grinned. She kicked off her shoes on the mat and unzipped her coat once Laura had fully released her.

"Clint's in town with the kids. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please."

"They are just going to be so pleased to see you. You're all Lila talks about. She's upset they don't have action figures of you that she could ask for Christmas."

Wanda laughed as she peeled off her layers and sat at the breakfast table, one foot tucked under her. The space seemed different, after being gone for so long. But the longer she sat in the kitchen, the more right it felt.

"Coop is, of course, completely torn. You are very cool, but you work with Dad, which he is starting to suspect makes you very lame."

It almost took Wanda a moment to realize who Laura meant by "Dad." But it was the same when they were growing up. Their parents did not use one another's names unless they thought they were alone, and the first time they had heard one of the neighbors refer to the two of them as "Luka and Matilda's twins," they had been almost comically offended. No one else was allowed to use those names.

"That's fair. I do think I am much lamer for having known Clint."

"Me too."

Laura set out a plate of cookies with their tea. Even as the space became more and more familiar, Wanda was starting to regret coming. Laura was looking at her in a way that made her feel trapped. She was just about to say she wasn't staying long when the screen door slammed.

"Speak of the devil-"

"Miss Wanda!"

Both of them winced at Lila's shrill cry. There was the pounding of feet and Wanda was surrounded before she could stand.

"You came back!" Lila was gripping her elbow and beaming up at her. "You're here!"

"I-"

"I told Cooper you'd come back-"

"I said she shouldn't count on it. You never promised-"

"But she's back! She came back to see us!"

"Let the poor woman breathe."

The children reluctantly pulled back to let Clint through. Wanda stood up and almost knocked over the chair in her haste to throw her arms around his neck. She willed herself to be embarrassed by showing her cards so freely, but couldn't manage it. His fist pounded her back a few times before they let go, just like he always did when he hugged someone. The predictability inspired such a strong rush of emotion, Wanda had to bite her tongue to keep from crying.

"Alright, alright, I get it. The world is falling apart without me, right?"

"Oh yes," she pulled back, effecting a very grave expression. "They scream for you. They cry in the streets. 'Where is he?' They ask on bended knee, every time we go out. 'Where is the mighty Lila Galamb?'"

The children were in hysterics at her tale and even Laura couldn't hide her laughter.

"I'm sorry-" she shrugged when her husband shot her a betrayed look. "She's been hanging out with Nat too much- she's all sarcastic now."

"She says this like I was not before."

"Hey- I was just going to say that."

Wanda tried not to cringe. A small part of her had hoped he wouldn't follow her back to the farm. She didn't know why she had thought it was possible. The presence she was creating with her powers was clearly tied to her, as she was the only one capable of perceiving him.

"Do you ever think how, if I came back to you, I would not fit into your life now?"

"Can I go put my things...?"

"Oh-yes of course." Laura beamed at her from over her mug. "Go get yourself set up in your old room."

She knew the possessive was deliberate. She almost considered running out the door then and there.

Wanda used the bathroom and washed her face- scrubbing hard in the hopes that the water and soap would somehow seep through her pores and rinse out her thoughts as well. She felt muddled. Like if she could just reach inside her head and scrub there too, she'd know what she wanted to do.

"You didn't answer. Have you noticed you don't have room for me, even if I was here?"

"I haven't replaced you. I couldn't. You're being dramatic." The very concept would have been laughable if it had been any other situation. She started on unpacking the rucksack and putting the socks in the weathered set of drawers.

"Not replaced." He shrugged and leaned back on the bed, an arm behind his head. It's the pose he always took when he was feeling annoyingly superior. "But can you imagine? If we got Mama and Apa back? When we were teenagers?"

He laughed and it sounded wrong. Humorless and cold. Wanda's hands shook as she tried to toss her clothes into the dresser. She tried to remember if his laugh had ever sounded this way. It must have, or how could she dream it up and assign it to the shade?

"What would our father say? Of his darling little girl? Dreaming of murder and creative ways to torture a stranger halfway across the world at age thirteen? And would Mama be proud of her sixteen year old son? Fucking around with soldiers just to prove he wasn't afraid of them?"

She was shaking too hard to even pretend to fold her clothes. She gripped the top of the dresser instead and spoke to the cropping of knickknacks that still lay on the surface.

"Shut up. You would never say this."

"But you would." She wasn't looking, but there was a tight, forced smile in his voice. "And we are the same, aren't we?"

Wanda was so tense she put up a wall of mist when there was a knock on the door without thinking. It took her a moment to calm down. It had been a long time since she had used the mist without meaning to.

"Co-come in!" She dropped her powers in an instant and reoriented herself to the door and a less disturbing interaction.

"So-" Clint leaned against the door frame as he spoke. "You didn't even call, did ya?"

"He doesn't want you here."

"You trying to chase me out?" It felt like a lame joke, but he laughed anyway.

"No, I'm just surprised is all. Thought you weren't such a fan of country living."

"I miss the sad train man music. I did not know his name, so I could not find the songs."

He blinked at her a moment, then laughed. "Sad train man- I like that. You're thinking of Cash. Johnny Cash."

"Yes, good- I now know the name of my one true love."

"Old, married and just a little dead."

"Just as well."

It was a comfortable conversation, but there were still unsaid words hanging in the air. Wanda could taste them- or rather, feel them fighting to get out of her throat like a scream.

"He's gotten even older."

Something passed across Clint's face, and to Wanda's utter horror, he glanced quickly around the room as though he had heard. Though he said nothing, the moment of fear was enough to let the words climb from her throat.

"You said- you once said you didn't know why he didn't just pick up Costel and let you die-" her voice was too loud. She heard it ring into the corners of the room, trying to fill them so the shade wouldn't fit. "It was because I told him. I- I saw your children in your mind and- I- he knew you were a father."

~

They went from being injected with every stimulant imaginable, to only bread and water overnight once they were moved from the labs to the cells. At first, they didn't notice the withdrawals, as their pain and newfound powers kept all their senses fully occupied. But by the time they were making regular trips into the city, they knew the source of their tremors and nausea.

"Ves'tacha?" He knocked on the door of the bathroom stall she had locked herself in, throwing up everything she had eaten that day. "Are you al-"

"Do I sound alright?" She rasped out between heaves. She shouldn't be looking to pick a fight- not now. But she couldn't help it. Every part of her felt like it was eating itself and she would give anything for even a moment of relief.

The stall door shuddered as he knocked it around until the feeble lock gave way. Wanda kept her head on the edge of the disgusting public toilet while he slid down the wall to sit next to her.

"We'll be alright, I prom-"

"You're not throwing your guts away and- and seeing things, are you?" She was being selfish and cruel because of the tremors racing through her. "You feel fine-"

"I don't!"

She looked up at the harsh tone. He was breathing hard and fast through his nose, his lips pressed together.

"I... I can't move like normal. It is- it is effort to walk and speak and scratch my nose. I have to... to focus. But it makes me so tired. And what if I show it in the city? What if I hurt-"

He cut himself off, but he didn't need to finish the scenario. Wanda squeezed her eyes tight and fought down her next shiver.

"If I could just think. It is bad enough dealing with- the new parts, but when I am like this-" she had to pause to heave dryly some more. "If I could just-"

"What are you saying-"

"I need to focus. We could find someone with-"

"Shut up!"

Wanda was shocked into silence by how roughly he grabbed her chin to force her to look at him. She was even to shocked to shout at him for hurting her once she had processed the initial indignation. Wanda didn't think he had ever grabbed her like this before.

"You shut up, right now-" his eyes- always paler than hers- were like chips of ice. He didn't look at her like this. He looked at others like this- usually before he hit them. She could feel his nails cut into her skin. "Do you hear me?"

"I just want-" there was a lump in her throat that wasn't sick this time. "I can help us. You know I always think of something."

"You will, Drágám. You will."

"Not like this-" she grabbed his wrist, but still, he would not let go. "Not when I can't think!"

"And that shit will help you think? Don't be stupid."

"Just a little. A little to help until the withdrawals-"

"You are smarter than this." He tightened his grip and she squeezed her eyes tighter as a few tears spilled from their corners. "You know you are. And we need your head. We won't survive this without it. Do you hear me?"

"Why don't you come up with something for once?" She snapped, trying to keep the sobs locked in her raw throat. "Why does it have to be me?"

He blinked at her a moment, then let go, as if only just realizing he was still gripping her chin. He leaned back against the wall and inexplicably, let out a soft huff of a laugh.

"Because- you know any ideas I have would get us killed."

They laughed until they cried and she crawled across his legs so he could hold her and apologize.

"I'm sorry. I- does it hurt still? I scratched-"

"Forget it. You are so dramatic." She kissed him light and fast until he laughed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm sorry- for what I said. You are right. More often than I admit."

"So, still not much?"

Chapter Text

Wanda was surprised to find that telling Clint did not change their relationship. She had thought he might look at her differently, like after what she told Sam. Granted, they were wildly different bits of information, but she had been bracing herself to regret saying this secret as much as the other. She still wished she could take both back sometimes, but giving away the toxic bits of herself in small pieces to Sam and Clint made her feel lighter.

That only went for telling him why Pietro wanted him to live. Not for the moment she had thought he could hear the shade.

"Why do you think that is?" He sat in the snow while she shoveled the walkway out to the barn. "That he heard me after all this time?"

"He didn't." She moved a stack of tools and a wheelbarrow out of the way so she could work around them. "That is impossible."

"How do you know? You have never done this before. No one has powers like yours. How do you know what your limits are?"

"I know myself."

"Why do you talk like that sometimes?"

Wanda forced herself to turn casually to greet Lila. The girl had her stuffed dog tied to her wrist like a leash, and was frowning thoughtfully at her. Wanda didn’t have to force her smile. In her warm pink snowsuit and matching gloves, boots and hat, the girl looked like a puffy starfish.

"Oh- because I am just talking to myself."

"But why do you talk to yourself like that?" She waded her way through the drifts to where Wanda was and carefully sat on a packed down pile.

"Oh- it is my language. From my home."

Lila nodded solemnly. "Oh. That makes sense."

Wanda continued shoveling as Lila walked her stuffed dog up to each scruffy bare tree and bush poking out of the snow and made it mime a sniffing motion. She was getting better at talking to the children this time. It helped to realize that just about anything she did would be considered right and fascinating by them, simply by nature of her being an adult who was not their parents. Both Lila and Cooper were young enough to view her as capable and in control.

"Mommy and Daddy are worried about you."

She kept pushing the shovel through the thick, damp snow while she thought of what she could possibly say to this. The aching in her arms and sweat on her face was a welcome distraction.

"Are they?"

"Yes." She didn't elaborate. "They also say you miss your brother."

"It seems we are an interesting topic of conversation."

"That is true."

"Where is he?"

"He..." Wanda felt like her head was disconnected from her shoulders- floating and numb. "He stayed home. I left him there."

"So dramatic."

"Oh. Is he older than you? Like me and Coop? Or younger? Like me and Nathaniel?"

"We are the same."

"Really?" The girl's eyes were almost completely round. "The exact same?"

Wanda couldn't help but smile. "Well- I'm a little older. By a few minutes."

"It's not right to lie to children."

"What is his name?"

"Um-" this sobered her and she had to swallow a few times. "Pietro."

"Ooo! Like Nathaniel!"

"Yes. Just like Nathaniel."

"I like that name." The girl informed her matter-of-factly as she brushed snow from her dog's ears. "It's like Peter, but more fun to say. Pi-e-tro, Pi-e-tro, Pi-e-trooooo-"

"It's Italian."

They both looked up. Wanda hadn't heard Clint approach any more than his daughter.

"Never got why that was, yours being German, his Italian. Nowhere near your country."

Wanda watched Lila continue to play with her dog and denied that her face was getting hot.

"Our father said he gave us his family name and our mother gave us her parents names for our seconds, but they thought our first given names should be our own."

Clint nodded his approval. He watched Wanda shovel and his daughter play for a few more minutes.

"Hey Lila, I think your mom's making some cookies and I'm pretty sure she could use your help licking the beaters."

Lila was waddling off through the drifts before he had even finished speaking. Wanda kept working. She really couldn’t force herself to focus on anything else.

“I’ll tell them, one day.”

“Tell them what?”

“About the guy that made sure they had their dad when they needed him.”

She didn’t know what to say to this, so she had no choice but to let him keep talking.

“It’s- maybe it’s selfish, but parents want to let their kids live in a safe world for as long as possible. Lila doesn’t- she’s four. She hasn’t had to deal with death yet. My parents have been dead since I was a teenager. Laura’s folks are healthier than I am. We had a dog kick it two years ago, but she doesn’t remember that.”

“Have you told Cooper?” She only asked because she couldn’t think of anything else to say and she knew her silence was noted.

“Not yet. I thought- I dunno. I feel like I should tell them together.”

“All of them?”

She could see him flush as he realized what she was getting at.

“Yeah. Okay. Maybe it’s not them. It’s me that’s not ready.”

She hadn’t been expecting this. She had expected him to maybe apologize for putting off the unpleasant chore, but not an admission of vulnerability. She did not expect his face to flush, his hands to punch deep into his pockets and for him to clear his throat roughly.

“I- I don’t know how to tell them cuz part of me is still…” he let the sentence trail off and restarted a new one. “I hate what happened. Nat’s right. If it hadn’t been me- or if I hadn’t been there at all that day, he’d just have grabbed the kid himself and you two would-“

He cut himself off and Wanda didn’t want to know what he was about to say. She really didn’t.

She looked into his mind for just a moment and had to grip the shovel for support. He knew how it would be with both of them on the team- at least, the most likely scenario. He thought of them being on the team, in the compound- a part of everything but separate, the way they had always been. She wouldn’t stay at the farm- they may never know about Clint or his family. She wouldn’t spend late nights talking with Sam. And they would both avoid the Vision at all costs. Natasha would push them and they would stand their ground and refuse to improve. Steve would frown at them and they would mock him. And they would not speak to Rhodey under any circumstances. She wouldn’t care about the rest of them the way she did now, but they were happy. Happy and isolated as always. Both of them.

“It was my job to take care of him.” The cold wind was picking up, and it gave her enough clarity to look him in the eye. “It always was. And I forgot. Because I was feeling guilty and stupid. Because of everything that was happening, I let him go on his own.”

“Your brother wasn’t a little kid. I wish to god he hadn’t died so young, but he was an adult. He didn’t need someone talking care of him like you’re saying.”

“We did. We took care of each other. And I failed.”

“No, you didn’t.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “It’s not- It’s not your fault and it’s not my fault. I just don’t want to tell my kids someone died so they could have their dad a bit longer. Cuz they’ll do exactly what we’re doing: try to take responsibility for something someone else did.”

“Seems like I ruin everyone I touch, huh?”

Wanda watched Clint’s face carefully. She thought his expression had twitched, but it could have just been the cold.

“I understand.”

Cooper sat next to her on the couch to watch a movie after dinner and hugged her goodnight longer than he had when she left the farm the first time.

She had another messy dream that mixed their past with her present. They were in the apartment together- but he was the right age, while she was perhaps eight or nine, clinging to his hand while they watched Clint argue with their mother.

“It’s about decency!” Their mother was furious. She was throwing on her coat and winter things hap-hazardly and seemed ten seconds from throwing a boot at him. “You don’t understand!”

“She’s leaving,” Pietro muttered, pulling her closer to his side. “She can’t leave. Not now.”

“We’re a complex people.” It was a laughable statement, though particularly coming from Clint. “You have to be patient, Mattie.”

“You can’t call her that!”

Her own shout woke her. Wanda stared at the ceiling for what felt like an hour, waiting for someone down the hall to get up and check on her. The dreams like this were nonsense, but they still made her feel sick to her stomach.

“You know why, don’t you?”

He was sitting in the open window, smoking. Wanda sat up and threw on the fuzzy pink bathrobe Laura had bequeathed her to fight off the chill. She tried not to think about how the shade had never actually effected the environment before. Just like no one else had ever heard him speak. Even though she didn’t answer, he went on.

“It’s because you don’t know any other kind of relationships than the ones we had. You can’t form new ones. You have to replace them. Because you could never replace me. But they are far enough away you can just pick new parents out of the crowd.”

She still didn’t respond, only rearranged the quilts piled high on top of her in the dark.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m wondering when you got so ugly.”

He only grinned and put out his cigarette on the sill.

“I am beautiful as always.”

“You know what I mean. And we never smoke inside. It was only ever when we were cold and needed a distraction.”

“Maybe we should start.”

She got up and slammed the window shut.

~

Their mother never finished school and liked to point out the irony in her husband being a teacher.

“Drágám, did you forget the eggs?”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” She dug through the grocery bag and pinched her nose before shrugging. “But really, it is your fault for marrying someone so stupid.”

He frowned. He didn’t like her flippant jokes about this particular subject.

“Stop that. Don’t teach them to talk about themselves like that.”

The twins scowled. They were thoroughly resistant to any implication that others could teach them anything at all, even their own parents.

“I am not. I’m not saying they should talk like this, I am just talking.”

He frowned at her a moment longer before getting up, inspiring a groan from their mother.

“Oh Ves’tacha, not now…”

“Yes, now,” he dug around in the tiny hall closet for a moment before pulling out a weathered wooden box. “I want to show our children just how clever their Mama is.”

She rolled her eyes as he set up the chessboard on the kitchen table between the twins’ art projects and the plate of rolls. They watched eagerly, always happy to see something new.

“How do you know she won’t let you win?” Wanda scooted her chair closer to the table and climbed up onto her knees on the seat so she could see better.

“She is too vain for that.”

Their mother didn’t even try to deny this as the two of them set up the board and started the game. Neither of the twins understood the rules, except that their mother won every round in less than ten minutes. Several times, she won before their father had made even five moves.

“So, you see?” Their father sat back triumphantly after almost an hour of repeated losses. “Everyone knows that chess is a game that requires the highest intelligence. Your Mama is the clever one.”

“I keep it a secret,” she winked at them both- one eye each. “So I don’t have to do as much work.”

Chapter Text

She started studying again the next day. With no practice, she’d forgotten much of the things she’d already learned. Wanda spent most of the morning furious with herself as she tried to find a lesson that sounded familiar. After being away for so long, stuck in training and her own thoughts, she’d lost what seemed to amount to a month of study.

“I wasn’t going to ask.” Clint was trying to sound casual as he measured a wall in the living room across from where she sat with her tablet. “But last I heard, you were almost done a few months ago.”

Wanda tapped away at her math equations for a few breaths.

“I… got distracted. Then, when I tried to go back to it, I just got frustrated. So it was easier just to forget about it.”

“Some things are like that.”

He let her work for awhile, taking down notes on the wall.

“You know, it’s going to be tough, coming back to your appointments after being away for so long.”

She made a non-commital noise in the back of her throat.

“We could find a therapist down here if you wanted to stay awhile.”

“Just say: survivor’s guilt. Trauma. Codependency. Claustrophobia. Stages of grief. Codependency again. Avoidance. Depression. And codependency.”

“Survivor’s guilt, trauma, codependency, claustrophobia, stages of grief, codependency, avoidance, depression, and codependency.”

“There. Thank you, doctor. I feel much less crazy now.”

He laughed, then cut himself off. “That’s not funny, Wanda. You’re supposed to be taking that seriously.”

“It’s hard to. She just repeats herself.”

“Is that because you don’t listen to her the first time?”

She scowled at her math problem without really seeing it. “You sound like, Steve.”

Well, listen to the old timer, he’s right.”

Later in the day, she carried Lila around the house, just because the girl liked to be held and didn’t mind if Wanda only walked aimlessly around. It meant something, to feel body heat- even from such a small body.

“Why don’t you use your magic?”

Wanda considered not answering or pretending she didn’t know what Lila meant. But she finally turned up the stairs to the bedroom where she stayed and nudged the door closed behind her with her hip.

“I don’t think Cli- your father would like it, if I used it around you three.”

“Is it bad?”

“Not… bad. Just… it can be useful, but also dangerous.” Having a sudden idea, she crossed to the nightstand and opened the drawer. “Like fire.”

Lila stared in anticipation as she pulled out a candle and set it down on the dresser. If she showed off a bit drawing a swirl of mist to light the wick, just for Lila’s entertainment, no one had to know. The girl squealed and clapped in appreciation as the flame burst to life.

“Do you want to hold it?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Lila bounced on her hip as the candle floated towards her outstretched hands.

“Careful,” she made sure the girl had a firm grip on the wax pillar with both hands before releasing it.

“Your magic is warm.”

“Is it?” Wanda moved to the window slowly, making sure she did not jostle the girl and her delicate charge.

“And pretty.”

The flame flickered, then flared. Lila screamed and dropped it on the window sill. Wanda kept the hot wax from splashing onto the girl, but she still cried as though burned.

“Shhh- Lila- it’s alright. See? The flame went out.”

“I dropped-“

“But we’re not hurt. Everything is fine.”

But the girl wouldn’t stop crying. With a sinking feeling, Wanda cringed at the feet thundering up the stairs.

“Lila- what-“

“I’m sorry, Laura. It’s fine. We just dropped a candle.”

“Oh honey, it’s alright, see? Just some wax and a little burn.”

Wanda passed the girl to her mother with an apologetic look. And if the charred mark on the sill looked more like a cigarette burn than an upset candle, Laura didn’t seem to notice.

~

When the studying made her feel too stupid, she went out riding. Crystal’s clicking old bones under her were an oddly comforting sound. The snow was starting to melt and every day, she went out further towards the hills and through the trees. They were different trees, mostly. But if she let her eyes slip out of focus, the hills grew rocks and the forest grew older. If she closed her eyes the birds and snow dropping from weak branches sounded the same.

“I think I would fuck one of them, if I were alive now.”

She breathed in and out slowly, just like her therapist always wanted her to do.

“Or let them fuck me. You know I was never picky.”

“I don’t know any of that. And since you are made of what is already in my head, neither do you.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I am your own dear, dead brother.”

“Pietro would never say the things you do,” she didn’t know why she was trying so hard to sound unaffected by him. It didn’t matter- not really. But she tugged at passing branches as Crystal plodded through the forest. “He was always kinder than me.”

“That’s not true. We are the same.”

“We were the same. You are an ugly thing made of my worst thoughts and this mess Hydra made of me.”

Crystal stopped to eat a few scrappy leaves still clinging to a nearby bush and Wanda looked at the shade closely for the first time in a long while. Not just at his expression, but his face and body- his physical appearance. It felt strange, the way he looked different than he ever had alive. Hair cut short- never growing past the perhaps two inches left after trimming off the white ends. He never liked his hair short- didn’t like how tight it curled when there was no length to weight it down. It made him look thinner- somehow paler. She often teased him about how pale he was, but it didn’t seem funny now, on the shade. It made him look hungry and wild in a way she didn’t like. Like he needed to be fed something in order to be right again. His eyes were the same, and it was almost worse than the differences.

“I don’t think so. I think you are just mad.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you sure? It seems like the crazy ones on the street were the ones always saying how sane they were.”

“I know my mind. I know what my powers feel like. You are…” she needed to stop. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be talking to him at all, let alone trying to explain to him his own existence. “You are just made of the mist. And only I see you.”

“Clint heard me.” He was watching her carefully, standing with his arms crossed on the side of the snowy path. He stood too still. That was almost the worst part. He did not move like Pietro. He did not shift his weight or flex his hands or dart his eyes. He just stood.

“He didn’t. I was just being paranoid.”

“What if they all started to see me too?” he laughed and it was the wrong laugh again. “What if I start having these little talks with all of them? Do you think I could convince them all they are going crazy? They all have blood on their hands, even if it is not technically mine. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard.”

Wanda broke a twig just to have something to do with her shaking hands. Her powers could probably drive someone to madness. She wished she hadn’t thought of it before, but she had. It was the kind of thing she didn’t mention to Pietro. When her thoughts turned dark in ways she knew his own mind did not supply. She didn’t share that ugliness with him, but now, she had to hear him give voice to it.

Her phone rang. Wanda tore off a glove with her teeth to answer it.

“Someone here to see you.” There was a tightness in Clint’s voice she didn’t like. For a moment, she thought it was warning. Warning that she wouldn’t like the visitor. But when he continued, she realized it was a more antagonistic unhappiness. “Wilson.”

“Oh. I-“ she was still trying to figure out why this made him angry as she steered Crystal around back towards the house. “I will be right in.”

“Fine.”

Sam had flown into the state on a commercial airline and taken a rental car. He claimed this was how rational adults traveled. He was already introducing himself to Laura when she came in, stamping the snow off of her boots.

“Oh damn,” he laughed when he turned to see her. “You’ve really gone native, haven’t you?”

Wanda tried to scowl as she shrugged off her coat to reveal the flannel and jeans she had on. But it didn’t last long, as she couldn’t help but grin as he swept her up in a warm hug.

“I listen to sad cowboy music too. You must rescue me before I buy a hat.” He smelled like plain soap and the cinnamon candy he kept in his car.

“Gunna have to sleep in the basement if you’re staying.” Clint’s voice was unnaturally stiff and his expression carefully blank. “Don’t got many rooms left since Nate.”

Sam shrugged easily, but Wanda saw something flick in his expression as well. She knew how perceptive he could be, and Clint’s cold reception was not lost on him. Neither of them said anything, but with a quick glance, Wanda knew that all four of them were reading the same situation. Wanda didn’t understand it. Clint and Sam got along fine. She would have called them friends. Not as close as Clint and Natasha, but still friends. She couldn’t understand why they were looking at one another like this.

“Come on, Sam. I’ll show you around.”

~

The cells were a better training ground for her than for him. There was only so much he could move in the small space. But her mind could reach and stretch beyond the bullet proof glass and brick. Every Hydra agent was a new source of exploration. Their minds were ugly. Simple and afraid. Afraid of each other, afraid of being alone without purpose, and afraid of the two of them in their cells. Some inspired a small amount of sympathy, but she almost preferred the ones that didn't. The cold and detached scientists were her favorites, though she wanted them dead. She was learning she could hate them while still learning much from the way their thoughts and feelings mapped together.

Most of them were the same. She could recognize them from the flavor of their minds without seeing or hearing some of them. A constant parade of the same community. But there were sometimes visitors. And her powers devoured any new depths she had the opportunity to explore.

"Does the asset understand his mission?"

"Yes."

Wanda sat up on her filthy cot and tried to filter out the sounds Pietro made in the next cell while he tried to control his speed. The new mind did not fit into the category of scared soldiers and soulless doctors. It was blank in some places, but not the right ones. It was afraid, but in the way the rats were afraid of the light. If she had any level of objectivity, she might have recognized him as similar to herself and Pietro.

"We will expect the mission to be completed within the week. No need for physical confirmation if the execution is public."

"Understood."

He thought of other missions. Of dog tags and mud. Then, of Ferris wheels and fireworks. A gun of plastic instead of metal. A laughing girl with red lips, clutching an ugly stuffed bear.

"Ah, you have noticed our latest assets."

"They are not a part of my mission."

It was a statement, but his mind lingered on it like a question. Replacements. The thought terrified and thrilled him all at once. The chance to rest, to sleep. Not just his body, but his soul.

"They are not. But in future you may work together."

This answer surprised her. She had been so focused on the stranger she had not been keeping track of the doctors mind. She looked up and turned on the cot to face the glass wall and see them. They were far enough away that it didn't mean much- she was reading what they said to one another, not hearing in a traditional sense- but she was still curious about this potential equal. The stranger's long, dark hair covered most of his face, so she couldn't be sure, but she thought he glanced over at her movement. His thoughts took on a slightly different tone while his mouth stayed shut, stuck on a word the rest of him barely remembered. There was more in his mind than any of the others, even the scientists. It was almost like two lines of thought, happening simultaneously. She could have explored it all day if given the opportunity, but he left soon after, the quieter voice of his mind still stuck on a loop in her own.

Doll, Doll, Doll. What a Doll.

Chapter Text

Wanda took Sam out walking in the woods. She was a little self-conscious about showing him her favorite haunts, but he seemed to appreciate it. She introduced him to Crystal and explained why the name was funny.

Sam was better with the children than her or Natasha. Sam was just easy. He could adapt to anything and anyone. He joked with Cooper and listened to all of Lila’s stories- reacting to them as though they weren’t mostly nonsense.

The two of them stayed at the house while Clint and Laura brought their children into town to visit Laura’s parents. It was raining, so they stayed in and played movies in the background while they cooked and played on their phones.

“How is everyone?” He had been there almost three days already and she hadn’t asked yet. Wanda knew she should feel guilty, but couldn’t manage it.

“Good. They’re fine. Rhodes wants to hire a cook. Nat doesn’t want anyone other than the team with daily clearance in the living area. So, it’s like this standoff. She scares the crap out of anyone coming onto the property, he won’t get groceries. They both think they’re being a nuisance, but no one else really notices.”

She laughed and moved onto her back on the couch. “Nothing new then?”

“Not really.”

They stayed quiet for awhile, but it was comfortable. Like how they had been before she told him about the shade. She knew things had changed, but she was also very aware that Sam’s ease meant they were adjusting and adapting and she was never more grateful.

“You are so good with the children.”

“Thanks.

 They think you’re pretty damn cool.”

“They are too easy to please.”

“Oh come on. You’re telling me that little you wouldn’t have thought we were cool? We’re superheroes. Rockstars ain’t got nothing on us.”

She thought about this, catching a fly in the air with her mist and crushing it up in the trash.

“I don’t know. And we weren’t… I don’t know how normal children are.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment and she felt her face flush. Wanda appreciated his efforts, but sometimes it made her feel too fragile and unstable to be handled so carefully.

“You didn’t have a whole lot of friends growing up?”

She thought about the girl Crystal for the first time in awhile. She wondered if she had survived the bombings- if her family stayed in Sokovia. And if so, if she survived the destruction of the city last spring. Wanda imagined her watching it all on the news in some safe, far off place. Even if she was alive, and even if she knew about what happened to the country she had once lived in, she probably didn’t remember them. She had no way of knowing that the boy who learned to say “I like your hair” in English for her was dead.

“It was always just us.”

She listed to Sam kneading the dough for some bread she had wanted to try.

“Sometimes you only need one.”

She didn’t have to invade his privacy to know where his mind had slipped to. She opened a new app so she would look busy if he wandered over to look at her.

“I don’t know anything about Riley.”

“You don’t have to-“

“No, I want to.” She hadn’t actually thought about Riley that much before. “Unless you don’t want to talk about him”

“No, it’s just—“ he paused and gave a small nose laugh—“ I guess I don’t talk about him a lot, do I?”

When he didn’t go on, she searched around for something.

“Was he funny like you?”

“Not on purpose. And I was an inch taller. I want that on the record.”

She laughed and it felt deeper in her stomach than it had lately. Like a belly growl from hunger instead of a throat clearing.

“I was taller until we were fifteen.”

He didn’t seem surprised by the shift in who they were focused on. Wanda wondered if he was just used to only talking about her.

“Love to see that.”

She flipped through her phone quickly and lifted it up to wave at him. He crossed to take it and see the digital copy she had taken of the class picture from her box.

“Holy shit!” He laughed for a few moments and she couldn’t help but smile. “Look at that little Amazon! And he was just a little twig of a thing! There’s just nothing to him!”

“I teased him constantly. I was so mean.”

“You were a bully.” He rounded the couch to drop down into one of the overstuffed armchairs. “A giant bully with terrible bangs.”

“Mhm.”

“This from the stuff Barton and Nat found for you in Europe?”

She nodded at the ceiling. “I took pictures of everything so I could…”

“Have them with you all the time.”

She nodded again. She wasn’t sure she liked him holding it all in his hand while they talked about this.

“Do you have pictures of Riley?”

He hesitated, then reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. He passed it over with a photo album opened for her.

“Can I look at the rest of yours or…?”

Wanda felt better about it with Riley in her palm.

“Yes. Stop when you get to the embarrassing selfies.”

“10-4.”

There were only a few pictures of Riley. Most of them were hard to glean any details from. Uniforms, buzzcuts, dust and sand sufficiently removed any identifying features. Wanda didn’t like to think of Sam in this part of his life, and ignored the images that included him. She didn’t like the thought that he was made of the same stuff as the soldiers in their home. Those things were made of metal and rubber and canvas. Sam was flesh and blood- he had to be.

“I like this one- it’s the one on your nightstand, right?”

She hummed in agreement. It was the one from the magazine article. Her, with her arms crossed and toe tapping, him, backwards in a chair, chin fitted over his arms. They were giving someone off camera the smug smile that usually prompted people to say things like “now you look like twins.”

“You look the most alike in this one.”

They looked the most like themselves too. Not the smiling children in the school photo or the wild and panicked experiments in the footage from the battle.

“That’s what everyone says.”

“It’s easy to see it though, once you know where to look.”

They flipped through one another’s photos in silence for some time. Wanda stayed on the one picture of Riley when he smiled. He had dark glasses on, but the lines in his face that came with the expression were enough to give him personality in her mind.

“Your parents were real hotties.”

“Gross.”

It was amazing levels of trust, this. Part of her wanted to leap to her feet and slap her phone out of his hand. She had gotten comfortable in him not knowing Pietro, except through her own words. That she had control over. But now Sam had images. Not just a few clips of the battle with Ultron. But real images.

“Why is Clint mad that you’re here?”

She hadn’t decided to ask it. But once it had left her mouth, she set his phone down on the coffee table and turned her head to watch him. He was considereing playing dumb. She didn’t need to read him to know. Wanda had walways been perceptive. Steve had once said something about how the serum had built on qualities he already processed. Privately, she thought the scepter’s effects on the two of them may have been the same. Pietro had always been anxious, restless- keen to keep moving forward. And she had always been able to read people, and get what she wanted from them, if she tried.

But Sam didn’t lie. She would know if he did.

“I’m not sure. I can only guess.”

“So guess.”

He set down her phone too and settled back in the chair. Wanda waited, holding eye contact. When he didn’t speak, she prompted him.

“Clint trusts you.”

“That’s true.”

“So why does he not want you here with his family?”

He waited a moment, then took a breath. “Control means a lot. To everyone. No one likes to feel like they don’t have control over their life and what’s happening in it.”

Wanda nodded slowly. That, she could understand.

“He didn’t invite you. He didn’t choose to tell you about his family.”

“Best I can figure it. Steve gave me the address.”

Wanda processed this. “Then he should have been angry when I first came here. Natasha sent me.”

“Well,” Sam hesitated. “I think he asked her to.”

Wanda considered what it must have been like for the first time. Clint had watched him die, then she had been somewhere near catatonic. His wife was pregnant, his children missed him. But there was a debt holding him to her, no matter what he said. He had brought her here out of an obligation to Pietro, not because he trusted Wanda.

“Well, that makes sense. I am his favorite.”

~

"Are you nervous, Ves'tacha?"

It was one of the rare instances when they spoke their code of mixed languages even though they were alone. It was a matter of security. They were in the locker room of Avengers Tower- a place they never dreamed they would set foot in voluntarily. They were still reeling and wrong-footed after having to swallow their pride over the whole situation. It helped to feel they still had something that was just theirs- the same as always.

"I am never afraid."

"Of course. You don't have feelings."

She wasn't really listening, but he took her silence for offence.

"I was only kidding. I didn't mean-"

"Do you ever think of who we would be if Apa and Anya had lived?

He did not reply immediately. Presumably out of shock. She always avoided talking about their parents. Not that she had never mentioned them. But she tried not to unless he would be angry at her for obviously avoiding the topic. It was another one of the things that set them apart and therefore terrified them.

"Always," he answered slowly, tying the new pair of trainers he had found in one of the small closets that lined the room. "Do you think we would have learned to behave ourselves?"

"Never."

Neither of them laughed.

"The archer has children." She didn't know why she was almost nervous to tell him. It felt like something private and dirty she should keep to herself. That alone should have made her stop. They had no privacy or secrets between them. "He is terrified of what it will do to them if he does not come home."

They were quiet for a minute.

"I wouldn't have believed it," he finally said quietly. "If we hadn't seen it. I would have always waited for them to come home if they died somewhere else. Then I would have made you come looking."

She knew it was true. And she would have been the one trying to ruin his hope with realism. But she would have held the same faith, deep in her chest, letting it tear her apart with every day they didn't know for sure.

"I know. And I would have told you it was hopeless."

"But you still would have wanted me to keep trying," he didn't look up from digging through the locker for a clean shirt. "So I wouldn't have given up- even if it was just to keep you hoping."

Chapter Text

They fought when the Bartons returned. Everyone could feel it in the air from the moment they stepped through the door. Wanda sat at the table and tried to keep her voice light as they said their hellos. Laura offered her a tight smile as she quietly brought the children directly back outside to build a snowman on the hill. Part of Wanda knew, deep in her gut, that she wouldn’t get a chance to tell her or the children goodbye this time. It should have bothered her more, but she was already too angry. The fight started low and tense. Sam tried to keep the peace, but gave up and left out the front door the moment Wanda started shouting.

“You’re being- you’re not being fair!” She was on her feet and her hands were shaking. She clenched her fists to hide it, and maybe to keep the mist from growing in her palms.

“I’m a dad- I don’t gotta be fair!” He had tried to keep from shouting at first, but gave in soon enough. She tried not to notice that he looked tired. And that he had changed the shape of his facial hair to trim shorter the parts that were fading in color. “You know how many people knew about this place before last year? Three. I told the director and two agents about Laura and the kids. Then one of them died, so Fury and Nat were the only people alive who knew where I went between missions. Then I brought the team here cuz they were fucked up-“

He didn’t need to say that it was her who did the fucking up. The missing accusation made the blood rise in her face and her nails bite into the palms of her hands. Her teeth cut into her tongue. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this angry. But all the same, it was almost comforting in its familiarity.

“Brought up the number of people who know about my family from two to six in one day. Then everything Stark knows goes straight to Rhodes and Pepper. And probably into FRIDAY where anyone else can access it if there’s a security breach! And apparently, whatever I tell you and Steve goes directly to Wilson!”

“Maybe you should start throwing parties here, since it’s such a popular place.”

This time, she knew Clint had heard. There was no denying the way his shoulders tightened and his eyes darted around the room. Anger gone, her hands and stomach felt frozen over.

For a moment, she wondered what would happen if she acknowledged it. She wondered what he would do if she looked directly at the shade and answered him. She wondered if he would be relieved that it wasn’t his own mind that was so damaged it was creating something that shouldn’t be there. Maybe he would be afraid. Maybe he would be angry at her- especially if he found out she had told Sam months ago. And that she wasn’t sure if she was doing it on purpose or not.

“Don’t you trust-“ she pulled his attention back with no intention other than to keep either of them addressing what they had both heard.

“It’s not Sam I don’t trust.”

It was a low blow and he didn’t mean it. He only meant he was losing control of who knew about this place and who didn’t, just like Sam said. But he didn’t say that. Because his pulse was pounding in his throat over hearing a voice he wasn’t supposed to. Because of that, he didn’t say what he meant. He left his words where they were and let her hate him. For a moment, she wondered if he would hit her if he knew she was the source of his terror and panic.

She gave him an image. She knew she was going to regret it, but as she turned on her heal and stormed out the door, she made him see Pietro’s eyes, stuck open an unfocused as he lay on the ground. There was a shout and a crash as he punched through the hall sheetrock while Wanda nearly tore the door off its hinges. Sam didn’t ask what happened, and drove them straight to the airport.

“It smells like horse shit out here.”

“Shut up.”

Sam glanced at her, but said nothing.

~

She’d lapsed in any kind of physical training and Natasha made her pay for it, just like Wanda knew she would. One morning session and her body was a mass of multi-colored bruises. The foot she had twisted months ago acted up at the slightest provocation. Wanda tried not to think of what the therapist would say if she told her the familiarity of pain was comforting.

“Spent too much time playing with babies,” the older woman observed while Wanda gingerly pulled her shoe off a swollen ankle after another scheduled beating. “Should have at least gone for runs to keep up your endurance.”

Natasha knew the visit had ended in a fight. If Clint hadn’t told her, Sam certainly had. But Wanda was perfectly happy to operate as though she thought everyone was under the impression that she had had a lovely, quiet rest.

“Maybe I’ll start planting traps out in those hills. Keep him sharp.”

“I’m sure Laura would love that.”

“I’d plant them so the children wouldn’t trip them.”

There was a pause while Wanda waited to see if she would bring up the fight. It was bad enough knowing what they weren’t talking about, she didn’t know if she could handle an actual confrontation.
“He’s been thinking about what happened too much. It’s not good for him.”

So he had told her he was hearing voices, not just about the fight. Natasha’s tone was not reproachful. Wanda wouldn’t really blame her if it had been. It wasn’t too great a leap to guess the source of Clint’s apparent hallucination. And she had given him a deliberate image. When it came down to it, there really wasn’t much of a difference.

“He should shove it away to deal with later.” She was being bitter and childish because she was still waiting for the blame she knew she mostly deserved.

Natasha didn’t have patience for her the way the others did. Wanda was starting to wonder if she had lost her talent for garnering a reaction from others.

“He should put it to something more useful than wrecking himself.” Natasha’s face was still smooth, though one brow lifted a half a centimeter above the other. “What use is your brother dying if it ruins the two of you as well.”

Wanda was more impressed by the callus attitude than hurt.

“Well, he did always like being useful.”

Natasha let out a sharp, dry cackle.

~

She finished the schoolwork mostly out of spite. It wasn’t hard, once she had the motivation. Sometimes Wanda thought they had only lived as long as they had on the streets out of spite. She filled out the last of her discussion questions and did the final tests in under an hour. She told them all and it felt reckless in an intimate sort of way.

Sam told her they needed to throw a party, because that’s what people did. Steve seemed surprised that she had kept it from them for so long, but pleased in a way that made her feel silly for even bringing it up. Vision did not understand why she had been studying in the first place.

“Education is very important to people,” she explained. They had resumed their chess games some time ago, and Wanda had found herself explaining more to him again. She tried not to think of it as a replacement for what she was missing with Clint. “It is what you do, with your reading every night.”

“Learning, I understand.” He made another move, frowning down at the board. “But the tests I do not.”

“Well, you cannot have graduation certificates if you don’t pass your tests.”

“And what is it you need these certificates for?”

Wanda was getting a headache. She could explain it all to him. About how most people could not find jobs without a diploma. About how it was a rite of passage they had been denied, because school meant being split up and sent to different foster families. That it was a symbol of power in almost every culture. About what their father would say if he knew his children never finished highschool, let alone set foot inside a university.

“It is important. To me.”

They sat in silence for awhile.

“You are… angry with me.”

“Not angry. Frustrated.” She was getting no nearer to beating him at the game. She didn’t know how their father had apparently gotten so much joy and entertainment from watching their mother beat him over and over. He had found amusement in it for years, and Wanda was tired after less than one.

“In what way are they different?”

“Angry means you have done something wrong and I feel you should have made a different choice.” She leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Frustrated means you have not done anything wrong- or at least nothing you know is wrong. So it would be unfair for me to be anything but patient.”

To her surprise, he did not seem satisfied. He frowned down at the board, but seemed stuck on his next move.

“You speak of your interactions with me as though I am a child.”

Wanda blinked and looked at him for longer than a few seconds at last.

“Well, you are only a few months old, aren’t you?”

Usually, he tried to smile when someone made a joke, but not this time.

“Are you angry with me?” This was certainly a new dynamic. “Or frustrated?”

“Upset.” He reached out and put her king into checkmate. “It is what you say when you are angry, but want to end the conversation.”

~

They raced out of the bedroom, giggling madly.

“Oh, Luka- Drágám, look at this.”

“Which one is which?” They asked at the same time, swinging their linked hands back and forth.

“Oh, how can we tell?” Their father leaned back from the papers he was grading at the kitchen table to grin at them. “They’re twins. Identical.”

They giggled harder. They were almost the same size at four years old. In matching jeans and t-shirts, they were certain no one could tell them apart.

“Guess!” Wanda chanted. “Guess! Guess!”

“We will only go to bed if you guess right!”

“However will we solve this,” their mother crouched down in front of them, her lips twisted as she tried not to laugh.

The twins continued to laugh and bounce with glee. Their parents made a great show of deliberating before pointing out the right twin in an instant. To their clear surprise, Wanda began to cry instantly. Pietro latched onto her and the adults tried not to laugh as they assessed what was wrong.

“It is because I am different!” She wailed, trying to push him off of her. “Because I am a girl! We are supposed to be the same, but I am not!”

“And why is it you are the one who is supposed to be different?”

“Because it is easier to be a boy!”

Their mother gave her a pained smile. “Sometimes, that is true. But Drágám, do you really want to be a boy?”

Wanda shook her head miserably. “I just want to be the same.”

Their father sat on the ground with them too and didn’t speak until Pietro had pulled away, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Just because you do not look the same, doesn’t mean you aren’t.”  He tried to wipe the tears from their faces, but they were far too busy feeling sorry for themselves to stop crying. “You have the same heart. Anyone who knows you can see that.”

“And it wasn’t because you are a girl that we could tell you apart,” their mother added. “It is because you did nothing with your hair, silly children.”

Chapter Text

She started to dream differently. It wasn’t just their family and the Avengers anymore. A gaunt, skeletal woman with sharp, wicked eyes started to taunt her, holding her blue ribbon necklace out of her reach. Wanda tried to use her mist to take it back, but her hands only glowed gold.

Laura called and Wanda almost didn’t answer, half afraid of another fight.

“Hi Wanda- I promise I’m not angry with you, please don’t hang up.”

Wanda couldn’t stop her smile as she laid back in bed. She liked it best when Laura was blunt.

“Oh. That is a relief.”

She apologized for leaving without saying goodbye and asked about the children. Laura put them both on. Cooper was reticent and bashful as usual, but hesitated before passing the phone on.

“I- Dad misses you. He feels bad about arguing.”

“Oh.” She was saying that a lot. “I… I do too.”

“I-“

Wanda could hear the casing on her phone creak. She loosened her grip.

“He’s having nightmares. He won’t say it, but he sleeps in and Mom tells us to keep quiet in the morning. We know what that means.”

Wanda’s throat closed, not just at what she had done, but at Cooper’s phrasing. It was too close, that he and his sister knew what it was to be ‘we.’

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. He just… he feels bad sometimes. About things that really aren’t his fault. He knows they’re not, but sometimes knowing isn’t enough. Mom is good at helping, but…”

He left it there and Wanda took a moment to breath and swallow.

“Thank you, Cooper. For telling me this.” She took another breath and tried to insert a smile into her voice. “Make sure you look after your brother and sister, okay? It’s your job.”

“I know.”

~

They went out on another mission. Her first since she returned. Steve thought there might be action. Otherwise he wouldn’t have assigned her a wide surveillance route with Vision, ensuring they would be the last to the fight if it happened. Part of her was sure that this was the end of their friendship and they would spend the day in uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked at him. He said it almost the instant they were alone on the city block. It was damp and chill, but the snow was starting to melt, even as far north as Boston. Wanda had never been to the city before, and the stone streets were uncomfortably familiar every time her boot stuck in a loose cobble.

“You are sorry,” she repeated, dumbly.

“Yes. I believe it is the responsibility of the one to start an argument to be the one to apologize.”

Wanda opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, thinking, before she started again. “To apologize first. But most of the time, both friends should apologize.”

“And we are friends?”

She was sure she had never heard such a hopeful note in his even voice before. Wanda thought about this for a moment before answering.

“Of course we are, Vis. And I’m sorry for making you feel like I think of you like a child.” She did not say that she had actually felt this way exactly for most of their relationship. But she was finding it was no longer accurate. If it ever was. “I don’t like it when people treat me that way either. No one does.”

He nodded, thoughtful as they made a slow circuit down the block.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“That we are friends?”

“Yes. And that I am not alone in the way I feel. It is...” he seemed stuck on this thought.

“A comfort?”

“I believe so.”

Wanda smiled and led the way down a street that seemed to have lower foot traffic than the others. Vision always went on missions partially disguised, but anyone who looked at him longer than a moment would see past the hat and high collar to his inhuman skin, so it was best to avoid pedestrians.

“I like your coat. It makes you look like a British professor.”

“Does it?” There was a note of amusement in his voice she wasn’t sure she’d heard before. “I didn’t know.”

“It does. You look very handsome.”

“And that is good?”

“You know it is,” she gave his arm a soft shove like she might with Clint or Sam. “Now you have learned to tease as well. What else are you going to surprise me with?”

“I will tell you once I have learned it.”

~

The mission ended uneventfully, but a day in the slush and mist left them all tired.

“Everyone’s earned an early night.” Steve said as they returned to the compound. “Drink, eat, watch movies. Do what you want- I’m done with you.”

“Don’t need telling twice.”

Natasha was already in the kitchen. She pulled out the bottle of rum and shook it in Wanda’s direction. She shook her head in response. She didn’t feel like drinking and spilling her guts to the Black Widow tonight.

She closed and locked the door of her apartment behind her. She called it that because it felt oddly perverse to say “room.” A room was where a child slept in their family home. An apartment was a home inside a larger building. A place where she was allowed to be alone.

“It was always such an incredible gift, when we could pay for a room for the night. Stolen time.”

Wanda wasn’t surprised, even though he had been making fewer appearances lately.

“Being civil tonight?”

She kept her eyes on her meager bookshelf. It was fairly useless with the fully stocked library down the hall, but sometimes she didn’t like leaving her apartment unless she had to, so she kept a few favorites and two new ones on a shelf above her desk. Wanda picked out Jane Eyre and sat in her desk chair, since he was on the bed.

“Come on.”

He didn’t go on, as if that alone was argument enough. Wanda lifted her eyes from the passage she had left off on, weary. It was the closest he had been to Pietro in a long while. She thought his hair might have finally grown a bit.

“You should ask if you can travel.” His smile was loose, the way it was supposed to be. “Go to London or Paris, like Anya always wanted for us.”

Wanda swallowed and set the book on her desk. “I’d like that. But I… Training is more important. I want to be useful.”

He laughed. “Now you’re starting to sound like me.”

“That’s not such a bad thing.”

“Oh, I know.”

In a moment, the tight, wrong smile was back and Wanda’s stomach dropped out.

“You know you never would have survived on the street without me.”

Her hands were shaking and she got up, trying to keep her expression blank as she set her book down.

“Pretty little girls disappear off the street every day.”

Wanda felt hot all over. She kept her eyes on the shade, just to prove some stupid lie to herself. She held his gaze and let her lip curl.

“Pretty little boys, too.”

He smiled, and for a breath, she thought that would be the end of it. But in an instant, her back was slammed against the wall and a forearm was pressed to her throat. Even if it hadn’t been there, she would have choked. She was completely frozen in fear. She couldn’t feel her feet or hands. All she could feel was his very solid arm pressed to her windpipe. It couldn’t be solid, though. Because he wasn’t solid. He wasn’t real. He was a figment of her powers and grief combined. She couldn’t make something real enough to touch her. To suffocate her.

Just as her vision was fading, an alarm started to sound. Wanda fell to the floor, coughing violently as her senses returned to her.

“All Avengers. There is a hostile intruder in Miss Maximoff’s quarters.”

Everything was washed in a flashing red light and the message repeated over and over while she shook on the floor, back pressed to the wall. At last there were thundering steps and the others rushed inside. The alarms stopped and the space was flushed with bright floodlight.

“Wanda- what-“

“It’s nothing—“ her voice shook violently, but she forced it out anyway—“I just- nightmare- and my powers-“

Indeed, there were scorch marks on the floor and walls around her. Sam was at her side, holding her shoulder and trying to make eye contact with her.

“FRIDAY said there was someone-“

“My cameras in this particular room have been disabled,” the AI informed Steve calmly. “I assume this occurred shortly before the intruder appeared. But I have recorded a second heat signature in the room.”

Wanda stared deliberately at the floor, trying to ignore Sam’s hands as they brushed the hair from her face.

“She’s in shock. Steve- grab that blanket?”

Wanda shook her head as he wrapped the throw around her.

“No- I- I’m just- I had a nightmare and I’m just a little shook up.”

It’s what Clint had said the last time she’d woken him with her shouts in the night at the farm. She liked the description. The way it encompassed her tremors while feigning that it was all something easily chased away by tea and late night movies. There was grace in the way Clint spoke sometimes.

“It’s okay, Wanda. Just sit her as long as you like and-“

“I don’t want you all thinking-“

“This is- FRIDAY- how did you not catch the intruder before they reached the living quarters, let alone Wanda’s room?”

She almost laughed that the first time she heard something like anger in Vision’s voice, he was arguing with another mechanical being.

“I am reviewing my data as we speak, and it seems that the intruder materialized inside this room without tripping any other sensors elsewhere.”

“Fuckin shit.”

Wanda didn’t even have the presence to be amused by Steve’s profanity.

“Sounds like an enhanced. Vision? Will you review the info we have on the incident with FRIDAY?”

“No!”

All the chaos died at her shout. She couldn’t explain. There was nothing she could say. In an instant of panic, she caught Sam’s eye, silently pleading.

That’s all it took. One moment of begging Sam with her eyes. And she knew it would all change.

Natasha saw. Of course she couldn’t know. But she didn’t need to know what the secret was about to know that there was one. That Sam knew it. And that it was dangerous. If Natasha knew, then so would Steve. And he would confront Sam. And Sam may not tell, but he would not lie, either. And so she would not be allowed to go on missions. Or likely even leave the compound.

“I’d like to go to bed now.”

~

He woke first after they were knocked unconscious at the protest. Wanda woke to the smell of blood and sweat and Pietro’s angry voice.

“Why are you being like this?”

“If you could please-“

“She needs a doctor, Sylvestere!”

“You were both checked out when you were brought in. They said she’d be fine.”

She was lying on what felt like concrete, her head in Pietro’s lap. Likely the holding cell at the police station. She ached all over and couldn’t manage to understand the words making their way through the pain in her head.

“Why won’t you help us?”

“I did, Pietro. I locked you up in here so those mad soldiers couldn’t get at the two of you anymore. They would have killed you both.”

Pietro made a disbelieving “tch!” noise. Wanda couldn’t move. She could barely manage breathing.

“Pietro… don’t think-“

“What? What must I not think, Sylvestere? Huh?”

“That…” The second voice lowered, but Wanda’s mind was at last catching up with the conversation. “That just because of… of what happened between us, I won’t do my job.”

“What ‘happened.’ Listen to him.”

“I’m serious! We were kids fooling around- alright? I’ll keep you two safe from the soldiers because that’s the right thing. But I’m not giving you special treatment just because of some dumb shit that happened when we were 17!”

Pietro was quiet for a moment before letting out a rough nose-laugh.

“Fuck you, Sylvie.”

Finally, Wanda had the presence to groan at the pain in her head.

“Pietro-“

“Yes- are you alright? Wanda?”

“Head hurts.”

“Hey Sylvie? Make yourself useful for once and get us Aspirin.”

Chapter Text

Wanda was surprised Steve didn’t cancel the party celebrating her diploma. Maybe he was still trying to figure out how best to handle the situation. Sam kept trying to talk to her alone, but she made sure there was always someone within earshot whenever they were together. She was right in thinking everything would change with Natasha as well. The older woman’s eyes threw up a blank every time she looked at Wanda- as if clearing her expression would somehow keep her from getting into her mind. It didn’t work, and Wanda knew Natasha was aware.

She spent most of her time with Vision now. He had been improving, but he was still not socially perceptive enough to understand the shift that had ruined her day to day life. He still took words at face value. He was mostly concerned with how an intruder had gotten past the security system.

“I do not understand it.”

They were playing chess almost daily now. Wanda could tell she was getting better, even if she still never won. She was learning to use her natural talents and his natural weaknesses to her advantage. She copied mistakes she had made genuinely in the past in order to elicit the same counter moves he had made to stop her. She watched his face and learned when was the right time to distract him with conversation.

“What don’t you understand?”

“FRIDAY may not be as advanced as I have become. But her systematic procedures in the case of a robotic or sentient intruder should be infallible.”

Wanda nodded, then shrugged. “Well, maybe they weren’t sentient.”

“How could something insentient push you against a wall and throttle you?”

Wanda shrugged, her hand automatically rising to ghost her fingers over the bruises that hadn’t faded from her throat. “I guess it depends on your idea of sentience.”

He was quiet for so long she almost forgot what they were talking about.

“That…” he made a move that she hadn’t been expecting and she thought he might not have planned out. “Is very interesting, Wanda. You have given me new perspective on the issue.”

~

Wanda woke to a knock on the door. It wasn’t any of the team. It was too light and fast to be any of them. She got up and pulled on some sweatpants lying on her floor. She opened the door to find Laura, smiling like she wasn’t sure what kind of reception she was about to receive.

But Wanda hugged her immediately and didn’t let go. She cried. It took her a long time to realize it, but she was sobbing before long. Laura didn’t say anything, but rubbed her back and let her cry into the light polyester of her shirt. She hadn’t cried when she fought with Clint. Or when the shade had proven itself solid. Not even after, when she knew that she was finally alone. But she cried now for who knew how long.

When she was done, she pulled back and tried to smile.

“There is snot on your shirt.”

“I have an eight-month-old, I’m used to it.”

Laura led her to the bed and they sat.

“Nat says…”

Wanda felt her stomach clench. Lately, the thought of any of the team talking about her made her nauseous.

“That you’ve been having a rough time of it lately.”

Wanda let her drop an arm around her shoulders and dropped her head down onto the smaller woman’s shoulder.

“Maybe.”

“Anything you want to tell me about?”

Wanda swallowed. “No.”

She didn’t know how she could even begin to explain without frightening her. She leaned and maneuvered them until they were lying on the bed, Laura’s arms wrapped around her as she rested her cheek against her shoulder.

“Oh-“ Laura’s breath caught for a second and she shifted under Wanda as she reached for the side table. “This is…”

Wanda swallowed and nodded. She didn’t need to guess what Laura had found.

“You know, in literature, there’s the tradition of the absent woman. It’s usually a woman- but it doesn’t have to be.” Wanda could feel the tears growing in the corners of her eyes again as Laura explained. “It can be anyone- a lot of times it’s children? Or someone’s long lost lover. Anyway, the reader never gets to see them- meet them in real time, I mean. Most of the time, the main character never knew them. The point is, this person isn’t really a character to the reader, but they still shape the plot and choices of the other characters.”

Wanda swallowed and tried not to panic. She didn’t want to hear this. She wanted Laura to talk about the children. Even Clint. Anything but Pietro and her image of him that was probably wrong, but in a distant way from how wrong the shade was.

“Your brother is like my absent character. He changed my whole life, and I’ve never met him. I want to know him, but he already has a personality in my mind. I imagine what I would say to him if I could just…”

Wanda didn’t say anything. She just concentrated on breathing in Laura’s smell and her hand stroking through her hair.

“I’m sorry. I just- the picture. I had never seen him before.”

“It’s a good picture of us.” Her voice felt faint and quivering. “Everyone says.”

“Everyone’s right.”

Wanda squeezed her eyes tight and tried to turn off the thoughts running through her head. About how everyone she knew had seen him now. There was no one left in her life who had never looked at his face and it felt like she was losing some level of control over him and the shade both.

“Clint can’t come to the party tomorrow.”

She had been expecting that. Now would come some kind of excuse. Something other than “he hates you now.”

“But he’s bringing the kids up in a few days.”

Wanda was so ready for a half-assed explanation as to why Clint couldn’t see her at all, that it took her far too long to process this.

“Oh.”

“The kids had a school showcase. I’ve seen it, since I’m at the school for my classes already. But of course they wanted him to see it, then also wanted to come see you. So he’s bringing them up a few days from now.”

Wanda thought about this. About how if she was more or less upset at the prospect of seeing Clint. About him seeing her. And how he would be able to tell she was slipping. That everyone treated her differently now. And how he would want to help. But helping might mean pushing his family aside again.

“Can’t wait to see them.”

~

Sam organized the whole thing. He said he was the only one who knew how normal people celebrate. Trusted former SHIELD agents that sometimes were allowed clearance to the compound set up long wooden tables and benches, the former full of food except for one piled high with brightly covered packages.

"What are those?"

"Presents," Natasha was overseeing the execution of the event setup, arms crossed and legs planted wide like she was instructing a field drill.

"Not just for me."

"Yes."

Wanda frowned. "It's a lot. Is that normal?"

"No, it's not." When Wanda only continued to frown, she sighed. "The team seems to think that it is important for you to build a life. Possessions help people to grow roots. Create a sense of belonging."

"And you?" Wanda watched her carefully. "What do you think?"

"I think you always need to be prepared to transplant," she smirked. For a split second, it was almost like things hadn’t changed and Wanda’s gut twisted. "Anyway- my gift is the best."

It seemed like the entire former staff of SHIELD was there. Wanda didn't know most of them. It felt like everyone wanted to say something to her. The food was good, but none of it familiar, except the tray of piping hot langos and little dishes of toppings. Wanda ate seven. When a group of suited individuals all tried to shake her hand at once, she stuttered out a weak excuse and slipped away to an outcropping of trees. She leaned against the trunk of one of the smooth, peeling white kinds and slid to the ground.

"Parties in your honor are kinda fun for everyone but you, aren't they?"

She looked up at the young woman who had just spoken. Wanda hadn't noticed anyone nearby. The stranger was leaning up against another tree, tapping away at an impossibly thin silver tablet.

"No. Not so fun." She stared at the stranger. It didn't feel rude, as the woman hadn't looked up from her tablet yet. "I don't know anyone."

"Been there."

"I don't know you."

"Yeah, you're not supposed to." She finally clipped her tablet to her belt and met Wanda's eyes with a smile. "I'm Daisy."

"Wanda."

"I know. What is it they call you on the field, Wanda?"

Wanda frowned at her, not sure she was comfortable with how much this Daisy knew about her.

"I am in plenty of the news."

"Same, but they don’t get much right, do they? But my team, they call me Quake."

She lifted a hand to the tree nearest her. Wanda watched, fascinated, as the old elm began to quiver and shake. Leaves began to fall around them and Wanda felt the earth beneath her tremor slightly. At last, Daisy dropped her arm and the shaking stopped. She shrugged and sat down, cross-legged, across from Wanda.

"That's uh- my melodramatic little demonstration."

"It's very... cool."

Daisy smiled. "Hear what you can do is twice as cool. We just have a couple images from Sokovia- real badass stuff-"

She stopped once she met Wanda's eyes. Wanda really didn’t know what to say to this. She had thought about it, of course. What people thought of that day. Of the images released to the public. Of the ones that weren’t. But it was still foreign to hear someone mention it so flippantly.

"I... I am so sorry. I got so excited about-" Daisy clearly had no idea what to say either. "That was... really terrible of me."

Wanda shook her head slowly. "I am not unstable. Not anymore."

She was lying more often now. It felt safe and familiar.

"I didn't say you were. But it was still a dick move, bringing it up."

"Maybe a little."

Daisy's grin was clearly relieved when she saw the small smile on Wanda's lips.

"So you're cool besides the—" she waved her hands around in a strange, clawed imitation of Wanda's powers—"I guess?"

"The Avengers seem to think I am alright."

"They do. But..." she wasn't looking right at Wanda, but at a blade of grass or perhaps an ant near her knee. "They don't really get it, do they? Some of them have powers- like the dishy Captain. But it's not the same."

"The same as what?" Wanda thought she was following where this was going. But she wasn't sure she liked it.

"The same as... us. We know what it's like to not be able to control things sometimes."

Wanda swallowed hard. She clenched her hands at her sides. "How much of Sokovia did you see?"

She really didn't need to ask. It was all over the other woman's face. Wanda almost found herself wishing the shade would appear so that it could voice the hateful things in the back of her mind she didn’t want to admit to owning herself.

"I'm... sort of spearheading a task team. People who have... skills. We don't have the same story as you, but from what I've seen, we may be struggling with a lot of the same things. And sometimes it's nice not to have to struggle alone."

"I never had to before."

Daisy tried to smile. "I know. You two were amazing. You both saved so many people, Wanda. But... there was a moment, I think you know, when you were not in control."

Wanda's jaw was set and her face smooth, even if her hands shook.  "I don't have any more twins for them to kill."

Daisy winced. "Wanda-"

"I'm training with the Avengers. It has taken me a very long time to be alright with that. But I am safe here. I'm not leaving now."

Daisy nodded. "I understand. It... once you find your people, there's really no good reason to leave them."

"Thank you."

"Just- promise me one thing?"

Wanda raised her eyebrows in amusement as Daisy shoved a hand down the neck of her shirt to retrieve something from her bra.

"Use this in your phone if you want to contact me. For any reason. Even if it's just to talk, okay?"

Wanda took the sim card skeptically, but nodded. "Thank you."

~

The dust hadn’t even settled when they had finally wedged themselves into the small space under the bed. They were shaking against one another, too afraid to speak or move. They could hear screaming- more distant explosions. Wanda tried to focus on Pietro’s short, rattling breaths in her ear.

“Chi- children?”

It was so soft, they almost didn’t hear. Something caught in Wanda’s throat, paralyzing her vocal chords.

“Wanda…” Pietro’s voice was barely a breath. “It’s-“

“Children!” Their father’s voice was louder, more desperate, this time. “Please- answer me! Wanda? Pietro?”

Wanda’s voice was stuck in her throat. She couldn’t respond. And by the muffled choke behind her, neither could Pietro.

“Mattie- Mattie? I- We have to find the children, okay?”

Wanda squeezed her eyes tight and tried to focus all her energy on raising her voice loud enough to call out to him.

“Mattie- Drágám- please. Please answer me. I- I can feel your hand, Matilda. Just squeeze my hand.”

Pietro whimpered against the back of her neck. Wanda swallowed and tried again, but could only mimic his soft noise.

They didn’t hear anything else after the second shell hit and some of the rubble of the first shifted.

Chapter Text

Sam found her not long after Daisy left. He dragged her back to the party to open her gifts. Luckily, it seemed that no one was really pay her much attention anymore. The former agents all milled around, talking amongst themselves. Sam and Laura sat with her, Laura scribbling on a small notepad as Wanda passed her the cards that came with the gifts and taping receipts to opened items.

"What are you writing?" She frowned at the notepad as Laura flipped past a filled up page.

"I'm writing what everyone got you."

"Why?"

"For thank you notes."

"Is that... Something I must do?"

Laura shrugged. "You don't have to, but it's a nice gesture. I'll do it if you're not up for it. Clint and I would get you all these things if we could afford it."

Wanda's vision blurred and her hands stopped on the gift she was opening. She felt childish that it had taken her this long to realize what Laura and Clint had been doing. Childish because people taking care of her made her feel childish. Childish because she should have noticed sooner. Childish because she shouldn't need them to take care of her as their own.

She returned to the gifts to give herself something to focus on. There was a hefty looking book on cosmic theory from a "Doctor Foster" she had never met, a selection of American films from Captain Rogers, and a beginning psychology textbook from Sam.

"To help you understand your powers," he explained while she flipped through the first few pages. "The more you know about the basics, the better you can control the not so basic, I'm guessing."

He was watching her closely. He did that a lot lately. She didn’t look up at him.

"Thank you," she closed the book carefully and set it on one of the few clear spots on the table.

"Also, I'm going to help you with Natasha's."

This surprised her into looking up. When she gave him a questioning look, he grinned and passed her a bulging envelope from the pile. It was labeled with a printed off sheet of paper with a short message.

Maximoff,

If you're going to fill your life with things, at least some of them should be ones you picked yourself.

-N. Romanoff

Inside was a giftcard for every store in the nearest mall. None had any indication of their amounts.

Wanda grinned and made sure the cards were all gathered before handing them to Laura. Slowly, they worked their way through the rest. Rhody's set of ornate leather journals, Agent Hill's nature photography to decorate her sparse room, thousands of gifts of useful items she already had, as well as knickknacks from people she had never met. There was also a silver star of David necklace who's card held no signature.

"Oh-" Laura blinked at the pendent and the label on the box it came in. "That's-"

"A very expensive gift," Sam finished for her, a very strange frown on his lips.

"But also very thoughtful," Laura added somewhat skeptically, marking a question mark into her notepad. "I wouldn't have guessed."

There was a sick feeling in the pit of Wanda's stomach. Someone who could afford the iconic jeweler. Someone who knew her- or knew a mutual friend- well enough to know of her family history. Bile rose up in her throat and she focused hard on a knot in the table in front of her, rather than on the carefully wrought silver. It felt like an eternity before she could be sure she was not about to throw up.

She closed the box carefully while fighting her panic down. It felt better to move on and pretend she could forget about this particular gift, and who must have sent it.

The last gifts were from Clint and Laura. There were three new flannel shirts- all in plaids of red, white and black- as well as several pairs of jeans. Laura squeezed her shoulders and kissed her cheek when she opened them.

"I washed them all at home and dried them on the line," she murmured close to Wanda's ear. "Everything here smells so institutional. You should have things that smell like a home."

Wanda nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She stopped long enough to hug the older woman and thank her as best she could. She wasn’t very good at thanking, but she was getting better. She hadn’t done it for so long, it felt as childish as Laura caring for her.

Laura also had given her a flashier gift- a sleek and new guitar with an odd, triangular sound hold. Wanda thanked her again and smiled, but couldn’t help but wonder when she was supposed to find time to learn a new hobby. Sam joked about her leaving them to pursue a rock career and she forgot how the thing was likely to sit unused in the moment where it felt like things were alright between them.

Clint's gift was a pair of western boots that actually fit, with a note instructing her to dirty them up before wearing them in public. There was also a bag of worn CDs from his personal collection. She noticed they were the most stereotypical of the bunch. Oddly enough, the sincerity of this gift did not make her want to cry as much, but rather calmed her. Not comforted, but it helped her order her thoughts. Set her up for her expectations for when he arrived. Maybe they would even have a day or two before Natasha warned him that Wanda was too dangerous to be trusted.

After the presents, no one seemed all that interested in her anymore. Her friends realized that she was uncomfortable with all the attention, and the strangers seemed to have all but forgotten her, now that they were catching up with one another. Most of them, anyway.

"Hey- I don't know you but I think this is your party, right?"

Wanda blinked at the stranger. She was a pretty young woman- pale, with wavy black hair and thick glasses.

"She's fucking gorgeous."

Despite her shiver at the shade’s reappearance, Wanda had to agree. The woman had full lips and an unstoppable figure. Everything about her was soft- from her lips to her hair to her curves and to her skin.

"Um-“ Wanda tried to smile, but it was wearing thin after such a long day. “It's a party for me, but-"

"But it's just a bunch of strangers, I'm guessing?"

Wanda smiled. "Yes. My name is Wanda. Welcome to my party."

"Darcy.” The woman sat next to her at the bench and kicked off the wedged sandals she was wearing. “I came with a friend who wanted to see your friends. Kinda a ten degrees of separation thing. I pretty much just tagged along for the eye-candy."

Wanda smiled, even if she didn't understand half of what the woman said. There was just something witty and warm about her. Unfamiliar, but comforting in how she spoke like they already knew one another.

"Have you had langos yet?"

"I have no idea what that means, but do you know if there's booze anywhere?"

Wanda grinned and, without thinking, grabbed Darcy's hand and took her to the coolers near the food. They found a quiet table and drank together for the rest of the party. It felt good- to talk with a stranger more than in passing. She had forgotten what it felt like. To be able to say or not say whatever she wanted. To be able to build up the version of herself she wanted Darcy to see from the ground up. It had been a long time since she actually sat down and talked to anyone from outside the compound.

When it started to get dark, Wanda's tongue felt heavy and Darcy's lips looked exceptionally soft. She was more drunk than she planned on being, but it felt right.

"Do you want to go inside?"

She didn't know why she asked. But there was barely anyone left in the yard and the air was starting to chill. She didn’t see Sam or Laura anywhere. Steve and Natasha were talking to a knot of people who looked like they used to be agents. She took another drink of her beer while she waited for Darcy to answer.

"Yeah. I wanna see the inside of the supersquad living quarters. Is it like- super futuristic and lux?"

Wanda didn't know what half those words meant either, so she just smiled and grabbed Darcy's hand as they got up and made their way inside.

"It's like a nice college dorm." Darcy muttered, her eyes roving over the shared living area. "With a nicer TV."

"I wouldn't know."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be. Are you going though? Literally all I know about you is that you just got your GED, thus the party."

"No, I won't. I... kind of already have job offer."

Darcy nodded solemnly. "Yeah- no use climbing up from the bottom when you've already been tapped for the best team in the league."

"Sure." At the door to her room, she hesitated. She wasn't quite sure what she should be doing at this point. This was the part where she should try to make her intentions clear.

"Something wrong?"

Wanda shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this."

"Good at what?" Darcy made a very cute squeak as Wanda kissed her.

~

The castle was all but a memory after a few hours. No one in the city seemed to know or care what had happened. Other than to tear apart the leftover pieces of the Iron Man’s creations. It was amazing how quickly the people of their city turned the robots into displays of their discontent.

“I don’t see any of Zrinka’s stuff.”

Wanda tried to pretend she was paying attention to Pietro’s observation, but her mind was nowhere near Pietro’s favorite graffiti artist. She had been shaking since the first gunshot of the day. Pietro’s gripped her hand and ran his thumb over hers, thinking she was afraid. She didn’t say that the tremors were closer to the buzz of excitement than fear.

She had seen him. Stood close enough to touch him. Given him fear that would consume him for years to come, should they let him live that long. She felt hyper-aware and raw as she had when the scientists had injected them with all manner of narcotics. Her mind could only focus on the encounter. His famous suit of metal. The way he breathed in the dark. His brown eyes. The man that had taken their lives from them and designed their every nightmare was suddenly real.

“Hey it’s-“

“Sh! Don’t stare.”

Pietro was looking over Wanda’s shoulders at whoever had spoken. He grinned and opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again.

“I’ll be back.”

She was so distracted, she didn’t protest his leaving her side until he had already kissed her and gone.

“Why didn’t you say hi?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“Zrinka- you were just saying you hadn’t seen him in weeks.”

Wanda listened with half her mind while the other was still stuck on that morning. The young woman and her little brother were behind her, but they knew them well enough that she could recognize their voices. From the shelter and tent cities all across their neighborhoods.

“Doesn’t mean I want to talk with him. When you are older, ask your girlfriends to explain to you the kind of boys they may like, but don’t want to talk to.”

“Why not? Pietro’s cool.”

“Tssk!” A small nose laugh. “Costel- don’t look up to him.”

“But-“

“Just- there are better people to look up to than Pietro Maximoff, I promise.”

Chapter Text

It was not a good kiss. Wanda had only had a handful of kisses with anyone but family in her life. In all cases, she had been on the receiving end- and they had not lasted long, as she was adept at pushing off unwanted contact. She kissed Darcy light and fast- the way she might kiss Pietro in greeting. The connection made her gut twist, but she buried the feeling.

"Well, shit." Darcy grinned and dropped an arm around her shoulders. "Call me a superhero groupie."

Wanda smiled and laughed again, thinking it should probably bother her more how little she understood of Darcy's words. She opened her door and led the other woman inside by the hand.

"Make yourself comfortable. I just-" she gestured vaguely at the bathroom as she crossed the living space to the door.

"Sure, sure. I'm going to snoop though."

In the bathroom, Wanda splashed cold water on her face, then cursed as she remembered her makeup.

“Do you even know how to fuck?”

She kept her eyes on her reflection, refusing to look at him.

"So this is how heroes live, huh?"

"Yes," she hastily tried to tap her eyeliner back into some kind of order.

"Don't have a whole lot of room for all your new stuff."

"You should take some. Of the gifts- I mean. And come shopping with me. Miss Romanov bought me many giftcards."

"Sounds fun. Who doesn't love a good shopping spree?"

Wanda ran a brush through her hair and let her shirt down another button.

"Ooo- who's the cutie?"

"What?" Wanda fluffed her hair one last time and smeared on some lip balm. She shut the light off and left the bathroom with a smile.

"Tall, dark, and dreamy-eyed," Darcy grinned, holding up the picture from her side table.

Wanda's heart froze. The top of her head felt hot, like someone had spilled coffee over her. She felt like she was going to throw up.

The grin fell off Darcy's face when she looked up and saw Wanda's expression.

"Hey, you oka-"

"Put that back!" She was shouting. She felt sorry, but she couldn't stop. "Put that- don't touch that!"

"I- I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

Wanda snatched the photo away, and in her haste, dropped it. It only bounced in its frame on the carpet, but she still let out a cry.

She knew she looked mad. She knew her behavior was wild and irrational. But she had forgotten. Forgotten for just one moment that she was half dead. Forgotten that she was a broken unit, wandering through her days, patching up problems as they came. She had thought of Pietro several times without her mind jumping to the loss of him. That’s the worst of what the shade had done. It had usurped her grief every time it appeared. She knew it wasn’t him. Every part of her conscious mind and soul knew it wasn’t. Pietro would never say the things the shade spat at her now. But the image of the shade- his face, his voice- was just enough to keep her from thinking of the feeling of bullets entering flesh and her mind going completely, horribly blank as it emptied of the presence always there.

And now Darcy had seen him. She'd seen the part of Wanda she should have met. The one that would have actually wanted her. The one that would have known how to kiss her and make her laugh. The part of Wanda she had been trying to find again when she kissed Darcy in the first place.

"You need to leave-" her voice was trembling out of control. There were hundreds of sobs bottled up in her throat. She needed to be alone. "You- get out!"

"Oh- okay-"

"Get out!"

Darcy fled and Wanda dropped to her knees, sobs ripping out of her throat as the door snapped shut. It was too much. She was so stupid for thinking something like this would work. She picked up the picture in its frame and cradled it in her lap, but still didn't look at it.

"You are fucking insane- look at you! You need to stop this! Get up!”

"I need you to leave!" She sounded ugly and wretched. Her throat felt torn, like her cries had sharp edges.

"I won't. You can’t live without me. You know I will never-"

"Shut up-" She pressed her eyes into her knees a moment, hoping beyond hope she would be alone when she looked up. But when she did, she was distracted from the shade’s disgusted expression by the stack of boxes she hadn’t seen before. It looked like someone had started bringing in her gifts. In falling to the carpet, she had knocked the topmost box- the jewelry case- off the stack. It lay on its side near her foot, and now, she could see there was a small envelope, smaller than her palm, taped to the bottom.

“Don’t bother.”

She ignored the shade and picked up the small, velveteen box, peeling the message off the back and opening it. There was no personal address or signature.

                    “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I thought it mattered.  My parents weren’t around a whole lot. I was half raised by this guy  and his wife, who left family back in Budapest.
The wife’s sister  made it through the war, and last I heard from them, she ended up with a guy called Maximoff, and their son had a pair of twins.
The best parts of me come from your great aunt and uncle.  Don’t know what I need to tell you that for but it doesn’t seem right  to keep from you that your family makes everything they touch better,  even when they’re gone.
Wish I came from people half as good as yours. World might have  been a different place.”

A wave of calm came over Wanda. She had stopped crying somewhere between finding the note and reading it. The shade was not in her room anymore. She got to her feet and dropped the picture unceremoniously into the box that still held the others. She didn't really know what she was doing. But almost as if under orders, she gathered up every picture and every memento she had—even the blue ribbon necklace—and dumped them into the box on her side table. When she was finished, Wanda gathered up the box, her keys, and the little bit of cash she had before closing up her rooms and wandering down the hall. She knocked on Vision's door.

"Oh- Wanda. Good evening."

"You weren't at the party." Her voice sounded foreign. Higher than normal, perhaps. Even and measured. Like a salesperson at a store.

He blinked. "This is true."

"Why not?" She was taking advantage of his lack of social know-how and she didn't care. Her finger was sliding along the edge of the box as she held it. She saw Vision glance down on it, pause, then decide to answer her question rather than ask one of his own.

"I did not think it was necessary. With so many people there to see you, I assumed we would have very little opportunity to speak to one another. As that would be my only reason for going, I thought I would make better use of my time and see you another day."

"Yes- well- take this-" she shoved the box against his chest. Her voice was more clipped now. She didn’t know what she was so impatient for, just that she was. "Just- hold it for me. Put it away somewhere. I may come back for it soon- or a long time from now- but don't mention it. Not to me, not to anyone else."

He blinked again. "It is... to be a secret?"

"Not a secret. But personal."

"Alright," he took the box and opened his mouth to go on, but Wanda wasn't interested.

"I'm going out. I'll see you later."

She took the bus into the city and found a packed dance club. It looked nothing like the places they used to go to. They’d always favored the cramped haunts that looked small upon entering, but extended further and further back with warm lighting and smoke permanently hanging on the air. This place was open and dark- with flashes of light from the open dancefloor. But she blended in with the mobs of college students from the local campus, and it felt good to be invisible in the crowd.

Wanda drank and smoked anything that was passed in front of her. She danced with and kissed the people Pietro would have. Soft girls with long, blond hair, hard boys with rough hands and chapped lips, and people with beautiful eyes who weren't really either.

"Stop it. This is embarrassing."

She took another drag of the cigarette that was definitely not tobacco that someone had handed her and let the boy draped over her suck her neck.

"You're going to regret all of this. Someone should slap you."

"Come back here and do it then."

The boy's hand was starting to wander up her thigh under her skirt and she didn't even feel panicked.

"Wanda! You're leaving. Now."

"I told you-" she stopped and blinked blearily. Unless she was much further gone than she had thought, Steve was the one looking at her with the kind of stern disapproval only a grandfather should have. "Oh- hello, Captain Rogers."

She shoved the boy off of her and stubbed out her cigarette on the table of the booth she was in.

"Wanda- we're leaving."

"I'm having fun."

"Well, as your CO, I'm telling you you're done having fun." He grabbed her bicep and pulled her to her feet. "Say goodbye to your new friends, Miss Maximoff."

His grip was tighter and rougher than she would have expected and it made her blood pound in anger, but felt right at the same time. She needed to be furious with him just as much as she had needed the club.

"Let go of me! You can't-"

"Oh yes I can," he dragged her through the crowd to the door and out onto the street. It was almost hotter outside than in. "I'm your commanding officer. And I can decide whether or not you have the privilege of leave-time off base."

"I'm not a soldier!"

"No, you're on my team. And no one on my team is going to overdose in some sleazy dance club."

Romanov was waiting in a sleek black sports car pulled up to the curb. The Captain opened the back door and shuffled her inside before getting into the passenger seat.

"Doctor Foster's friend said you had a rough time towards the end of the party," she said as she pulled away from the club. "You sober enough to tell us what happened?"

" B aszd szájba a kurva anyádat !"

"Sober enough to sass your superiors," she drawled. "Well, you're clearly having some kind of breakdown. So drink that bottle of water back there, get a good night's sleep, and you've got a hell of a date with your therapist tomorrow."

Back in her room, Wanda stumbled to her bed and screamed- sheets clenched between her teeth. Her heart was pounding behind her eyes and she could feel how miserable she would be in the morning already. Her body felt shattered and useless. Just an empty wrapper for something that had gone bad and was starting to rot at the corners. She needed just a moment- a moment for things to be different than they had been and would now always be.

"What is happening to you, Ves’tascha?" It was the closest he’d sounded to Pietro since FRIDAY’s alarms had gone off. But it was almost worse that way.

"I can't..." she pressed her face into the mattress, letting her sobs tear out of her throat. "I can't do it alone. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"

Chapter Text

Wanda woke late the next morning feeling miserable. There was a bottle of water and pack of aspirin on her side-table, so she stayed in bed, sipping, until she felt marginally more alive. When she could open her eyes without extreme pain, she drew a hot bath and soaked for over an hour. When the water was finally cold, she got out, drank another glass of water from the sink, and took a real shower- washing her hair and even shaving.

She got out and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt from the ones Laura had given her. The woman was right. It smelled like the farm. Wanda brushed out her hair and braided the wet strands clumsily- she still wasn't used to the blow dryer her bathroom had come equipped with.

She wandered down the hall and into the kitchen, bracing herself for the conversation to come. It was probably best to get it over with.

"Wanda- morning." Steve was definitely looking reproachful at her over his coffee and toast.

"Good morning, Steve." She clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. "I would like to apologize for my behavior last night."

"It's alright, Wanda," he replied cautiously, in a way that said it wasn't really alright, but keeping her calm was more important than giving a lecture. "We're just worried about your well-being."

"I'm feeling a lot better," she nodded briskly and, seeing as how she wasn't being reprimanded, figured it was alright to make breakfast. "My therapist says that relapses are inevitable."

"I thought you hated your therapist." Steve sounded suspicious, as if waiting for her to lull him into a false sense of security before starting to foam at the mouth.

"Well, I may never like her, but that doesn't mean she's wrong." Wanda poured a bowl of cereal from the box and put the kettle on the stove. "I need to learn to be in control all the time. Last night, I wasn't. You and Natasha helped me when I needed it."

"And you were very rude to us," Natasha wandered into the kitchen, already covered in sweat from her morning workout. "I don't appreciate being called names, Maximoff."

"I'm sorry. I was very irrational."

Natasha gave her the same suspicious look as Steve. If she wasn't still worried she was going to be punished in some way, Wanda might have laughed.

"Well, I'm not holding back in sparring tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"You were pretty far gone when we mentioned it last night," Steve explained, seeming to shove his suspicion aside for another day. "But I scheduled you an entire day with your therapist to talk through what might have triggered your relapse last night. Now, I know you're not going to be happy with this-"

"No- that's probably a good idea."

They both blinked at her like she'd grown an extra head.

"I'm trying," she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her stomach. She tried to remember the last time one of them had watched her openly for so long. It felt baring and vulgar, but like it wasn’t her right to wish them to stop. "I know that there's... added complications to my relapses. I want to be safe. I want to be a part of this team- not liability."

They were still giving her that look. Like they didn't quite trust how rational she was being. When neither said anything else, she sat at the counter and waved a spoon at them.

"You wait for me to have another meltdown? You may wait a long time. I am feeling very well this morning."

"Sorry, Wanda." Steve at least had the decency to look genuinely contrite. "It's just-"

"I was bad last night," she finished for him, nodding. She tried not to feel the nausea that overcame her at the motion. "I understand. But it has helped me realized how much I must improve."

They still looked weary, but at last, Steve nodded and smiled.

"That's great to hear, Wanda. This sounds like a real breakthrough for you. Let us know if there is anything we can do to help."

She nodded too and finished her breakfast, trying to ignore the way Natasha didn't look anywhere near convinced of her determination to reach control.

~

The therapist treated her the same way. As though her calm was a dirty trick. Wanda pushed through anyway.

"Do you know what triggered you last night?"

Wanda stare out the window rather than at the therapist.

"I think it was just the crowd. I just... There was a girl I was talking to, but all the noise and people around got to me."

The therapist nodded. "Parties are stressful. People don't like to admit that happy things are stressful, but they are. Any break from normalcy and routine causes stress."

Wanda nodded, her mind wandering as the therapist went on. She wasn't such a terrible woman. Sure, she overstated the obvious, but she was knowledgeable and patient. Wanda would try harder. She wasn't just putting on a front. She watched a young man jogging on the track outside.

"So, were you able to look at any reminders this morning without a negative reaction?"

Wanda forced herself to focus once more.  "Absolutely. My room was the same as always. And I apologized to the Captain and Miss Romanov."

"How did that go?"

"Well. But I think they do not quite believe I was being sincere."

"It is a considerable change for you."

"I've decided to try harder." She turned back to the window, watching the man run some more.

~

Lila and Cooper both ran across the living area to hug her when they arrived. Wanda and Laura had been having a very quiet and polite tea during which they said very little that Wanda would remember. They did not talk about what had happened after the graduation party. Wanda was grateful, but wished the missing subject didn’t make all their conversations feel hallow and empty.

“Wanda! Wanda- we- we came all the way and I fell asleep in the car, and Cooper-“

“Lila, don’t-“

She greeted them and listened to their chatter while trying not to feel nervous as Clint followed them across the room at a slower pace. Laura diverted the children’s attention so that he could greet her.

“Congrats.”

Their hug felt just stiff enough to sting, but just similar enough to make a lump rise up in her throat.

“I’m- I-“

“Sorry. Bout everything I said. It wasn’t fair or right or anything.”

She stared at the wall over his shoulder and tried to summon up any feeling other than quivering surprise. Incongruent with the relief she should be feeling, she only felt cold and sick. Like he wouldn’t be apologizing if he knew something. Like she was keeping something from him.

“I’m sorry too.” Her lips moved without her deciding to move them. “I’m sorry. So sorry. For everything.”

They pulled back in time for the children to swarm her again. Wanda was grateful for the distraction. She was finding herself grateful for anything that allowed her to not think about things she had said and done lately.

After a day with the children, Clint found her in the library, a paper bag under his arm.

“Come on. Roof. Me. You. Best beer in New York.”

Wanda followed him, more because she didn’t have an excuse to refuse than because she really wanted to. They were quiet for the first two bottles. Wanda knew it could only last so long, but enjoyed the blankness while it lasted. Her mind was blissfully quiet in silence lately. She thought it must be the mindfulness exercises her therapist had finally succeeded in getting her to try on a regular basis. It was almost enough for Wanda to regret resisting the treatment for so long.

“So, Wanda Maximoff, high school graduate.” The conversation started on their third bottle. “What’s next? Disneyland?”

Wanda sipped and shrugged. “Probably more of the same.”

“Fair enough.” He waited a few more sips. “You wanna talk about-“

“How is Nathaniel?”

He hesitated, but ultimately allowed the forced subject change.

“He’s good. Doctor says he’s a good weight for his age. I forgot how fast they grow.”

Wanda nodded and finished her bottle rather than think of anything to say. She didn’t know enough about children or child-rearing to know what was acceptable for this topic.

“You know you’re welcome to come down for a weekend or something whenever. Kids and Laura would love to see more of you. And me. I’d like to see more of you too. More than lately.”

“I’m sorry.” She said it because she felt like she should.

“No- I don’t mean- shit.”

She let him work through his response for a moment. She liked the slow pace of conversations with Clint. There was space. Not the space of careful planning and analysis like with the Vision, but baggy, loose spaces in the fit of their speech, like a comfortable old sweater. She almost laughed at the image and tried to assign each member of the team an article of clothing while Clint gathered his thoughts.

“I know not me or anyone else could be a replacement for your family. But you’re still important to us. And I hope we are to you.”

She took his hand because it was on the cement wall between them. It seemed a natural enough gesture, but she didn’t think she had ever taken Clint’s hand before. He hesitated a moment, clearly surprised, before shifting his fingers to lace with hers. His hand felt clunky and somewhat foreign. Like his calluses were in the wrong places. Wanda took a moment to wonder at this thought before finding something to say in the silence.

“I’m alright.”

~

There was a wavering danger on the edge of her mind. Wanda could just feel it- balanced, ready to spill over. Despite feeling contained, focused, capable of handling both training and therapy, she was waiting for it all to fall apart. And she could tell the others were waiting for the same surety.

They had been looking at her differently. Wanda tried to read it as concern- and it was. Partially. But it was a small base to a tower of suspicion and guarded confusion. They stopped talking whenever she walked into a room. Even when she could tell the subject hadn’t been her. Steve smile at her in a way that felt too deliberate. Rhodey still rarely spoke to her, but gave a very polite smile every time they made eye contact. Natasha watched her and it was perhaps the worst of all. She would not press- never asked questions. But she looked at Wanda like she was part of a mission. Like a sticking place in the plan that could lead to failure if they weren’t careful.

Sam was both the same and not anything like how he used to be with her. He was trying. She could see that and appreciated it. But it was the trying that had changed. Before, he tried to understand what she needed. Now, he was trying to understand something else entirely.

Vision alone had not changed his attitude towards her. Wanda wondered if he knew how to change his feelings toward something- if it was possible. But he continued to gradually improve his social skills and find new ways to express the things he thought and felt.

Sam took her to the nearby mall to use Natasha’s gift from the graduation party. He helped her pick out bedclothes and prints for her walls. When she said she was tired of the grey walls, he brought her to the hardware store to pick out paint.

“How ‘bout a nice shade of red?”

He was teasing her, but Wanda frowned as they looked over the paint chips.

“No… I am thinking something cool…” she grabbed a few samples in shades of blue and teal. Something in Sam’s stare was half sympathetic, half concerned, but it only lasted a moment before he smiled and gave his input.

“I like the teal, but that’s just me.”

Chapter Text

Wanda was forgetting things. Nothing too important. But it was often enough that she noticed. Part of her knew this should worry her, but when she brought it up during sessions, her therapist didn’t seem overly concerned.

“It’s perfectly normal to experience gaps with dealing with trauma. Have they been recent memories, or closer to the source of your trauma?”

“No- not…” Wanda thought a moment before going on. “It’s hard to explain. It’s not- not blackouts or missing memories. There are just things I know I should know, but I don’t.”

“Like what, Wanda?” The therapist always used the same, bland, flat tone. Wanda tried not to be too annoyed with it.

“Things like… small pieces of information. How to… make certain foods. Um… people’s names. People I… People. I know I should know some people- and I don’t remember them.”

“People you see every day?”

Wanda thought about this. That wasn’t right. She knew her teammates. But sometimes strangers in the city or occasionally in the compound would look at her like they knew her.

“No. Just… people.”

She didn’t tell Sam or anyone else these things. It wasn’t a secret. She just didn’t want to worry anyone. She knew how much they worried about her. Wanda didn’t know what was worse, knowing they worried about her for her own sake, or others.

“I like the new décor.” Sam flopped onto her bed as she packed for another visit to the farm. “It’s real… modern. Looks right out of Ikea or something.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“So Lila’s birthday party, huh? That’ll be… wild, I’m sure.”

“Of course. She came to my graduation party, so it’s the least I can do.”

They were quiet for a few moments while she folded her socks.

“You’re really doin better lately, huh?”

Something in his voice bothered her. It took Wanda a moment to process what it was. But once she did, she felt heat creeping into her face.

“Don’t act so surprised.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

“Sorry.” He at least looked genuinely contrite. “I just- you were making progress. But it seemed gradual and natural. Then- you had a bit of a relapse- which we all do. It happens. Then… overnight, things were very strange. You sort of skipped over half the steps that usually come with this kind of stability.”

“So… I’m doing too well for you?”

He gave her a look- the one that said her attitude wasn’t helping anything. Wanda took a breath and tried again.

“Sorry. I just- I would have thought everyone would be happy that I am doing well, but instead you all seem suspicious.” She swallowed. Wanda hadn’t realized how much it had been bothering her until she said it.

Sam winced and nodded slowly. “That’s… that sucks. That’s pretty shitty of us. And I’m sorry. It’s just- we don’t want you to feel like this progress means…” he trailed off, sighed, and tried again. “You don’t talk about any of it. Not since your grad party. It was just—"he snapped his fingers—”night and day. A 180 like that is kind of concerning to see.”

“I’m…” Wanda took a slow breath as she gathered her defense. Because it felt like a defense. “Trying to compartmentalize. I talk about things with my therapist. I have fun with my friends. I train with the team. I think it’s helping.”

Sam did not seem remotely convinced. “So… it wasn’t helping before? When me and you talked about your family?”

Wanda thought this over a few moments as she wrapped up the cord of her phone charger around her hand.

“I’m… I’ve let my past control me for too long. This is helping me to take control.”

Sam nodded. He understood. Of course he did. Sam was the most understanding person she had ever met.

~

She was on missions again. Wanda could tell she was not trusted the way she might have been once, but she read that Steve did not have any real reason to keep her back. Each member of the team had a different opinion on this, but none of them shared them with her. As was becoming more and more apparent, there was only one person who felt consistently toward her, regardless of what she said or did.

“Do you trust me, Vision?”

They were posted in an alley to cover an escape route while Natasha and Steve ambushed a Hydra agent in hiding. It felt familiar and comfortable, sitting on the lid of a dumpster, even with someone there with her.

“I have thought about trust very much.”

Wanda was glad she was not expecting a straight, simple answer, as she would have been disappointed. She settled in, letting the blood rush back into her thighs, as her legs had fallen asleep some time ago.

“I… I think I understand trust,” he went on. “Insofar as it’s definition. But I’m afraid the key concept still eludes me.”

“Does it bother you? That we place so much value on things that are so difficult to understand?”

“I feel it is possibly the thing I understand most about humanity.”

Wanda frowned at the brick opposite her. Part of her was hoping for a much different answer.

~

Steve slapped a thick file down on the kitchen counter when most of them were gathered eating dinner. Wanda raised her eyebrows from behind the bowl of soup Sam had made for her.

“What is this?”

“Finally found the bastard.”

Sam let out a theatrical gasp and Natasha mimed covering the Vision’s ears. Steve gave them both a sour look before flipping the file open.

“Rumlow.”

This wiped the smirks off their faces. The team all began to converge on the counter as Steve passed out information. Wanda watched the other reactions, trying to gauge whether or not this name was supposed to be familiar to her. With no one shooting her furtive looks that might suggest a personal history, she chanced prodding for information.

“Rumlow…”

“Before your time,” Sam explained as he flipped through the first few pages of Steve’s report. “Back in DC, me, Steve and Nat met this guy who didn’t like us very much. Didn’t we drop a building on him?”

“He crawled out, apparently.” Steve looked like he was trying very hard to seem offhand and calm about this mission. But if it was possible for Captain America to feel vindictive pleasure, he was near it now. “Found him in circles of a few other ex-SHIELD operatives. He flies to Lagos city on Thursday and I want a stealth team.”

The Vision said nothing, but set the file he had taken down after only a cursory glance. He had long since understood that he was not involved with stealth missions. Wanda was sorry. Lately, he was the only one who was frank with her, and she was tired of everyone else walking on eggshells when they spent time with her.

“Nat, Sam, Wanda.”

This, she did not expect. She would have thought that Rhodey at the very least was the more obvious choice for such a mission. Natasha did not even seem to be bothering to hide that she was having the same doubts about the mission roster. Her head tilted to one side and there was a small frown on her lips. Steve must have seen this.

“Rhodes is back in Washington starting Tuesday, and Wanda’s been working on a few things I’d like to test out. Then me, Nat and Sam have got a score. Team of four should be just fine.”

Wanda chose not to look at anyone’s reactions as she took her file and started skimming the plan Steve had drawn up.

~

Her dreams were not nearly as horrifying lately, but she thought they were probably more strange than ever before. They were set mostly in the apartment. She was usually a child, coloring on the floor, sneaking from her room to the couch to watch television with her father, watching her mother dye her hair at the bathroom sink. They were usual enough for the most part. But there was another presence in the apartment. A young man with short, dark hair. He was always sitting at the table with her mother, or standing in the doorway, watching them eat.

“Apa,” she whispered, tugging her father’s sleeve as Uhura informed the captain of a foreign frequency on the small screen across from them. “Apa- who is he?”

“He’s the Captain- you know this.”

“No-“ she hit his shoulder and pointed from behind the couch back at the stranger. “Him.”

Her father craned his neck over the cushion to see and let out a small hum of a laugh before settling back down and kissing her head.

“You’re a funny one.”

“But-“

“You know him. How could you not?”

Wanda frowned as his soft laugh lifted his chest against her cheek. It was like those times when adults said, ‘you’ll understand when you’re older.’ Except this time, he was claiming she should understand now. How could you not? The phrase stuck in her head, half of her mind agreeing and the other half aware of its ridiculousness. She didn’t know what she could say to make him understand.

Wanda snuck a look at the tall stranger. He glanced down at her, but only offered a small smile before returning his attention to the television screen. Since he didn’t seem to care, Wanda watched him. He leaned against the doorframe comfortably, like he belonged there. Belonged in her family’s apartment. In her thoughts. Her memories.

As she watched, the stranger reached into a pocket and lit a cigarette. Wanda tugged on her father’s sleeve, trying to make him turn his head to see.

“What? What is it?”

“He’s smoking.” He had to understand why this was so wrong. It was wrong in every way it could be, she knew. “He can’t- he shouldn’t smoke indoors. He doesn’t smoke indoors.”

~

She woke early on the day they were to set off for Nigeria. There was a hum of excitement under the calm she had been feeling lately. Like the long-forgotten feeling of the night before a street festival as a child. But not quite as joyous. This was something more akin to anticipation of change. How she imagined it felt to try to sleep before a job interview. A mix of nerves mostly drowned in potential.

“You about ready?” Sam rapped a knuckle on her doorframe to announce his presence as their liftoff time drew near.

“Almost.” She shrugged on a light, canvas jacket of a nondescript olive color and tugged it into place. “How’s this?”

“Def a Peace Corp volunteer. Fresh faced out of school and ready to change the world. Except for one thing.”

He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a faded cloth baseball cap. With an overly serious expression, he tugged it on over her hair, straightening it to his standards. Wanda rolled her eyes, sure he was being far too nitpicky on the placement of such a hat. At last he stepped back and regarded her critically.

“There. Now you’re perfect.”

Wanda couldn’t twist her mouth into a frown and laughed instead. She grabbed his hand and kissed his cheek swiftly.

“Come on. Steve and Nat are probably waiting already.”

As they climbed the stairs to the landing pad on the roof of the building, they passed a man Wanda often saw, though she never learned his name. His pale eyes flicked down to where she still held Sam’s hand, then he offered her a quick smile.

“Jó utat kívánok, Wanda.”

Chapter Text

They were silent in the quinjet back from Lagos. Even if they hadn’t been, Wanda thought she would have tuned out any conversation. She felt empty. Not numb, but empty. Sam sat next to her, but not even their shoulders brushed. She found herself hoping he wouldn’t say anything, but angry at him for every moment he spent in silence.

When they arrived back at the compound, Wanda locked herself in her room. It looked smaller, somehow. Like a child’s room in a larger house, rather than an adult’s apartment. She felt suddenly sick of it all. The wall color she had chosen. The photos from children saved in Sokovia. The gifts from strangers across the world dripping from her walls and shelves. She especially hated the guitar from Laura. She allowed herself a moment of pettiness to mentally vent bile over what a useless gift it was. It was idiotic- to give her something that required practice to enjoy. Idiotic, when nearly every waking moment was taken by training. Training so that she might be of use. That she might save someone. That she might be able to make the small percentage of amends that she could for the harm she had done. Not so that she might add more.

Wanda snatched up her remote and turned on the news.

~

The Vision did not understand. Of course he didn’t. He kept trying to speak to her privately, but Wanda was adept at finding space to be alone. They all arrived at the meeting together. Wanda still felt empty. Steve kept trying to say comforting and inspiring things about what it meant to do what they did. She didn’t want to hear any of it. She wanted to be back in her room, watching the news of her failure so she would never forget what she was. Not sit in a conference room waiting for some military representative to come to talk to them all.

“Hey Max.”

Sam leaned over to mutter to her and she nearly cried right there at how much and how little had changed between them. She had yet to cry since Lagos. She knew it was coming. It didn’t feel in the right place, though. Instead of her throat or chest, it felt like the tears were stuck low in her gut, keeping her queasy and sluggish.

“You doin okay?”

The answer, of course, was no. For a moment she considered what would happen if she said ‘no.’ ‘No, Sam. No I’m not okay. Everything I have done in my life has been for myself and has caused others nothing but harm. I feel sick all the time. Sick and empty and like I’m ignoring something very important.’

Instead, she lied.

“I will be.”

As the military man explained the terms of the accords, Wanda felt cold. There was something horribly familiar about this scene. Something beyond the obvious.

“All that is missing is our yellow stars.”

The man from the compound who knew Wanda but she didn’t remember was leaning over her shoulder to read her copy of the document. She could almost feel him standing over her, he was so close. She reached a hand back, then dropped it onto her own shoulder. It was an automatic gesture. One she would have tried to place, had a bit of movement out of the corner of her eye not distracted her. Steve was looking around, as if unsure where the scathing comment had come from. Then, inexplicably, he met Wanda’s eyes, then quickly looked away.

Wanda returned to reading the document, her stomach roiling as she tried to decipher the hint of fear in Steve’s eyes.

~

She could smell The Vision’s cooking from her own room. It was already overcooked by the time she wandered out into the kitchen. It was fairly easy to smile in a bland sort of way as he nervously explained his intentions and showed her his project. His anxiety set walls up around her affection for him. It was unnerving, the way he developed human feelings and behaviors. She knew it was unfair- knew that he was struggling to find who and what he was in this world. But her own guilt and grief was making her selfish. And in her selfishness, part of her thought his nerves were an act to set her at ease. She needed to leave before she said something she would regret.

She went with Clint because it seemed like the type of thing she would have wanted, normally. Normal was very hard to come by in the past few months. Wanda needed to feel something akin to the drive and anger that had helped her survive the streets of Sokovia alone for so long.

So she went with Clint and fell asleep in the passenger’s seat of the van he’d brought. They drove for what felt like years before they met up with Steve, Sam, and Barnes.

~

They were at a rest stop when the ankle Wanda kept twisting started to act up once again. The pain was distracting, and part of her was thankful for it. She stretched and rolled it, trying to both stretch the muscle and feel the twinge as it pulled.

“Here-“

Barnes was suddenly kneeling down in front of her. He unlaced her boot and started to gently loosen it away from her ankle. Wanda tried not to stare at his metal hand, sticking out of the sleeve of his jacket.

“Thank you,” Wanda hesitated, as they had yet to speak directly and she wasn’t sure what to call him. “Um… Mr. Barnes.”

He only frowned down at her laces. So that was wrong. Wanda jumped at a new subject for her mind to focus on.

“I’m sorry.” She tried to prompt him when he said nothing as he worked. “Wrong name?”

His frown deepened and he still didn’t look up. “Not… wrong.”

“What do you prefer? I know your name is James, but Steve calls you Bucky.” He smiled slightly at this name. “Do you like that better?”

He kept his face downcast, and spoke slowly, like he wasn’t sure how much was allowed. “Sure. But I like how you say it.”

Wanda blinked, then found herself smiling. “Are you flirting with me, old man?”

“No ma’am.” But he was still smiling down at her boot as he continued to work it off. “It’s just- I always liked the Hungarians. Everyone wanted a piece of them, but they never backed down. And it was always the women fightin back the hardest.”

Wanda smiled and didn’t correct him on her country of origin. Finally free of her boot, she brought her ankle up to rest on her opposite knee. Barnes stood, the smile gone and his face now a set blank as he looked over the trees around the rest stop. She watched him, curious. He tugged at her mind. His thoughts were erratic, with great plateaus of stability. The interesting part was that it was the erratic he attempted to pull towards consciously. Any time his thoughts became methodical and organized, like now as he scanned the perimeter, his emotions fought tooth and nail to take over with images of a packed dancefloor, a pair of dog tags, a Ferris wheel lit up by fireworks. Most people were the opposite, trying to avoid distraction to think of things like missions and safety. Part of her wanted to study him, the other part knew that if anyone deserved to have their mind their own, it was him.

“You two gossiping over there?”

“No, Steve,” she answered for both of them, as she could feel Barnes’s mind trying to refocus without even trying to look inside. “Your friend is going to take me out swing dancing.”

“They still do swi-“

“It’s a novelty thing, Buck.” Steve was giving them a tired half-smile. “Wheels up in ten.”

Wanda sighed and started to pull her boot back on. She was about to say something about how much of an old man Steve was when she saw the look on Bucky’s face. It was a strange look. A mix of feelings all fighting to be prominently displayed. She didn’t try to read him, but she was tired. It was harder to keep control.

Adoration. Guilt. Protectiveness. And fear. A deep, emotional fear unlike the physical response to any real danger. It was a burning, deep within him. A sick feeling that tainted his every thought.

“What?”

She’d been staring. His expression had changed, but that look was still burned into her mind like a brand. It made her want to cry out and sob and clutch at something. She didn’t know what.

“I’ve seen your eyes before.”

Her own words startled her, but she knew they were true. She didn’t know where she had seen that look that held deep in his pale eyes, but it shook her to the core. She was devastated by the familiarity without actually remembering what caused it. Barnes was blinking at her, his brows drawn together.

“Are you-“ he gestured to her face.

Wanda touched her cheek and was surprised. She didn’t feel like she was crying.

“I’m fine.” She brushed her face quickly and finished lacing her boot. “Just tired.”

She offered him a hand and he took it, somewhat awkwardly with his own- the one still made of flesh. Wanda got the sense that he feared the other’s touch would be somehow offensive to her.

“And you have nothing to fear.” Again, she didn’t know what she was saying until it had left her mouth. “Just because he does not need you to be stronger than him anymore, doesn’t mean he still doesn’t want you around.” She could feel more tears rolling down her face, but a smile was lifting her cheeks as well. “Isn’t it better? To stay even when you could leave if you wanted?”

He was staring at her in amazement now. “Hey- you sure you’re okay, Doll?”

The moment was gone. The strange, out of body experience of crying and spouting absolute nonsense at a veritable stranger had evaporated and once more her ankle hurt. Her ankle hurt, she’d failed in making amends for the lives she’d taken, and they were on their way to more disaster.

“Quit flirtin you two, we’re rollin out.”

~

It was a long car ride. That's the part they never showed on the news. The press would say just about anything about them. That they were murderers, terrorists, sex fiends- but they would never tell how they spent most of their "mission" time in cars or planes.

Steve and Barnes talked quietly the whole way. Or- Steve talked, Barnes seemed to be taking notes in a hard backed notebook. Wanda knew little about what had happened to him, but it made sense to see him frantically grasping at every bit of information he could find.

After a few hours, they rotated drivers and the two old friends fell asleep in the back. Wanda knew she shouldn't pry, but the new man, Scott had started snoring with his eyes open. She nudged Barnes's rucksack open with her toe and slipped out the notebook. Or the newest one, as there were at least six. She flipped open the first few pages and read the headings. Steve says: Before the war, I remember: During the war, Steve says: New people- Tony Stark (Iron Man). There was a page for each of them and Wanda forgot to feel guilty as she began to read them. It was sad, mostly, but she couldn't help giggling at some of the notes for her teammates- and former teammates.

Sam Wilson (Falcon):

-Vet                       -Black                             -No superpowers

-Rude                   -Gap-toothed                 -Wings- metal

-Bad jokes            -Know-it-all                     -lost a friend in the service

-friends with everyone

          +except me

          +I hate him

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

-Former SHIELD (not Hydra)          -No superpowers          -Short

-Archer for some reason                  -Kinda lame                   -Blond? Kind of?

-Thinks he's funny                             -Opinion TBD

Other pages were more cryptic. Natasha's was almost completely filled with a long string of phrases scribbled out and edited. At the end was an ominous underlined note: I remember her. I don't think I should tell anyone.

Wanda was so engrossed in his commentary that she almost forgot that she would have to make an appearance in the book eventually.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

-Dark hair                       -Crazy scary powers               -Sad

-Easy on the eyes         -From fake country                 -Opinion tbd Real doll

-Not alright                     -HAD a twin