Chapter Text
Chapter 2: No Way Home
You open your eyes.
oops?
You can't remember whether you passed out or fell asleep — time has slipped away, but the cold pressing against your skin is the first thing you feel most strongly.
It could be deep into the night, or maybe nearly dawn — somewhere between 3 and 5 in the morning. Counting from when the accident happened, it means far too much time has already passed.
oh my
Did they just forget about you? A thought surfaces in your mind — did Wanda really leave you here? No wonder she kept joking and laughing with that doctor. You truly can't trust strangers anywhere. You blame yourself for being too trusting...
self-pity
The physical pain hasn't faded, but the emotional pain cuts deeper. You feel as though you've been abandoned once again — that familiar feeling of the past beginning to flood the sterile hospital room. But you don't let it overwhelm your present mind. Now is not the time to be sad. Your current situation is a matter of life and death. You force yourself to set aside what just happened and think clearly: leaving the hospital and the city right now is the most rational choice, since this hour sees the fewest people moving about.
A brief sleep after all that exhaustion seems to have sharpened your mind a little. You can think more clearly now. You begin to regulate your breathing to minimize the pain from your current wounds, and to settle your emotions in final preparation for action.
breathe in
You pull back the blanket.
breathe out
Your left arm won't move, but that doesn't matter much — you can still move your left hand and both legs. You slowly sit up. A sharp pain flares from the wound on your upper left chest, forcing you to hold your breath to dull it. You inhale deeply again as the pain becomes more familiar, lower your feet to the floor, and slip on your sandals easily. But the moment you stand upright — when all your weight settles — you feel the chest pain more clearly, and dizziness sways through you.
Letting out a slow exhale and steadying yourself on your feet, you finally register the feeling you should be doing right now — lying in bed, buried under a pile of blankets.
Step by step across the floor. You've probably gotten better at controlling the pain.
Just as you're standing before the door, you remember your laptop.
oops...
Lucky it has a password and multi-step verification. And you can use the money you just earned to buy a new one. It's just that you've lost the laptop that's been your companion since you first joined the organization — but it's fine. Even if that's what you tell yourself, you can feel your heart growing cold.
You open the door and step into the hallway — pushing aside all other thoughts and focusing only on the goal of leaving here as fast as possible. You can't miss your flight — it departs in two days. You have to slip back, retrieve your information, and vanish in silence.
Moving step by step down the empty corridor, you do your best to pass as an ordinary patient feeling no pain — in case a nurse appears and drags you back to your room. Fortunately, the hallway is empty right now. You can relax a little.
You press on, the cold grazing your skin again and again with each step. Things feel easier as you near the elevator — until it suddenly opens and you stop in your tracks.
just a nurse
Just a regular nurse — nothing to worry about... but this nurse is staring at you hard from the very first glance. That unsettles you. Something is off. She isn't an ordinary nurse. You realize it the moment you catch her combat-ready stance as she steps out of the elevator and moves toward you, faster than expected.
Your body heats up, preparing to dodge. You can't fight physically right now.
She lunges at you, but you manage to sidestep and press close behind her. But just as you're about to counter, the pain from your wound — aggravated by the sudden movement — flares harder than ever, freezing you in place. Your enemy seizes the opening, spins around, and drives a punch into the right side of your face, slamming you into the wall and dropping you to the floor.
Ridiculous. You could take down a D-rank fighter who hasn't even finished their training, yet here you are — stopped by pain and beaten by some nameless enemy from an organization you don't even recognize...
You can't stand. Pain floods every movement. Adrenaline can't save you even now. The fake nurse approaches and draws a knife, self-assured, ready to finish you.
"After this, I'll be getting a very large bonus, you little brat."
"Oh? Then you don't know that taking me alive is worth a lot more, do you?"
Foolish. She actually believes you and puts the knife away, grabbing you to haul you upright instead.
"You won't even know what they'll do to you when I bring you in alive," she says with a triumphant laugh. Meanwhile you're still gasping, struggling unsuccessfully to control the pain.
You're done for. Everything's gone wrong. Maybe you'll meet your end in some back alley, a dumpster — or worse, scattered across multiple locations.
A flash of red streaks past — you barely see it while you're still struggling weakly against the nurse's grip — and then she's sent flying into the far wall. As your legs give out and you begin to fall, an arm catches you. And when you look up in surprise,
it's Wanda.
Of all the possibilities, Wanda appearing here is the last one you expected. You thought she was already gone. You believed she'd truly left you at the hospital. So why is she here so quickly? And what was that just now? Hundreds of questions flood your mind as Wanda appears before you.
"Why are you wandering around, Taylor?"
You know 'Taylor' isn't your real name — but somehow the way she says it sounds just like she's calling your actual name.
"Didn't you already leave...?"
"Ah, early discharge paperwork turned out to be a bit complicated and time-consuming since you wanted to leave right away."
Wanda helps you up and offers her arm for support, but you gently push her away and sit down on a hospital chair instead — you just don't like prolonged contact with strangers, especially when you're this confused.
"Are you sure you want to sit on that cold chair with only a thin layer of fabric on you?"
"Wanda, please... just get me out of here..."
"Where will you go once you're out? Is something urgent, sweetheart?" Wanda is trying to ease the tension, while your face is twisted from pain and various other factors — including the fact that this chair is genuinely freezing your backside.
"I... well, I..."
"Why did you lie and say I was your mother?"
Oh no. You don't know how to handle this question. Lying is easy but explaining is hard. You struggle to think, but pain and dizziness envelop you. You don't notice the warm, forgiving look in Wanda's eyes above you — she seems to be letting the small mistake go — but you doubt she has any idea how truly threatened your life is right now.
"I'm sorry... please just take me away." Your words come out clear. You need to get back into a bed, into exhaustion and rest — just not a hospital bed.
"Go where, little one? Where's home for you?"
Where? Should you tell her you're heading to the airport? No! That would make you look like a criminal fleeing the country, and Wanda would get suspicious immediately.
"I... I... oh, I can't remember anything, and my head hurts so much."
"Well then, you'll have to stay in the hospital a few more days for observation, darling."
"NO!"
You object sharply. You need to stay clear-headed to answer her questions, but you also need to find a believable lie — which might be part of why you're snapping. Wanda's expression turns slightly serious as you accidentally raise your voice here — but that's not your fault, you're just trying to think.
"Sorry. I just want to go home."
Wanda sighs, looking genuinely frustrated with your vague non-answers. "Then where is home?"
"No way home..." — this is probably the most honest thing you can say to her right now.
Those green eyes look down at you. You try to avoid them by staring at the floor, but you genuinely don't know what kind of person Wanda is — you've never known her, so you don't understand the full extent of her powers.
Wanda raises one hand, her palm tilting your chin up — forcing you to meet her gaze. Before you can register it, her other hand rests on your right cheek, gently pressing against the bruise from earlier.
A strange sensation — red is the only thing in your mind right now, and a warm current briefly passes through your temple. Not painful, not sharp, just strange. As if something is brushing against your brain, holding you still, your thoughts dissolving into her gaze... until it stops suddenly. Wanda lowers her hand and you regain your clarity.
"What just happened???" You instinctively glance toward the unconscious fake nurse still crumpled in the corner — and begin piecing things together. "Was that you, Wanda?"
Wanda shakes her head — not a denial, but an unwillingness to answer that question. She smiles broadly, as if nothing has happened at all.
"We're leaving. I'll take you."
Mutual benefit. You don't press further — because you don't want her pressing you either. She helps you up, guides your arm over hers, and somehow you end up in the elevator heading down to the parking garage. The process is so fast you keep your head down the whole way from exhaustion — until you realize you're standing before a matte black Audi A5 Coupe. You don't know car prices, but you know Audi isn't cheap. You wonder whether your blood has gotten on her upholstery — if so, you'd feel terrible.
"Your laptop is on the back seat. Would you like to sit in the back to check it, sweetheart?"
"Oh, no — I get carsick. I'd rather sit in the front." In truth, you want to watch the road — just in case. Survival instincts from the number of times you nearly got kidnapped in a car. Also, you do actually get carsick.
You get into the car with her help. Once both of you are settled with seatbelts on, the engine turns over and the car starts to move. Along the way, you notice no blood has stained the interior — thankfully. Wanda had wrapped you in a blanket to help keep your dropping body temperature under control.
The entire ride is suffocating for you. You have no idea where Wanda is taking you, but you don't ask — escaping the hospital at all is already the best outcome. Neither of you speaks, until the car passes through a forest and you start paying attention to the route. Curiosity gets the better of you.
"Where are we going?"
"Well, since you didn't tell me where you wanted to go, I've decided to bring you to my place for breakfast. It's almost dawn anyway."
"Does your house... is it in the woods?"
"If that's what you think?"
Wanda seems to realize you're probably tense — the heavy tree cover and morning fog make it look like a scene straight out of a horror film. To ease your anxiety, she starts asking light questions: what you like to eat, whether you have any medication allergies, whether you're sleepy, and eventually — do your parents know you're in this state?
Simple and ordinary questions, but you can't answer any of them — you can't disclose personal information. That, if anything, makes you more tense than relaxed. You press your lips together and furrow your brow, trying not to turn your head toward the driver.
"When will we get there?"
...
"Soon."
The car rolls along the forest road until it reaches an open clearing — grass and mist covering everything — until the car pulls closer and a villa materializes out of the fog. The car parks in front of the entrance.
"I'll help you wait on the front steps while I go park the car, then come back and bring you inside. Can you manage, sweetheart? Will you be too cold?"
"Oh, I'll be fine."
Wanda smiles and rubs your arm lightly before leaning over to undo your seatbelt. The closeness — Wanda right in front of you — makes you hold your breath, inhaling slowly. A faint scent of light wood and dried flowers from her hair. Wanda leans in.
Then she steps out, walks around to your door and opens it, extends her hand in invitation. You hesitate a moment — then take it and step out of the car, and she steadies you as you find your footing.
"Don't trip, sweetheart."
Climbing the front steps proves more difficult than expected — each step draws from the wound, making you hold your breath until you and she are standing before the door. Wanda holds your hand and soothes you.
"Won't be long, sweetheart."
Then she walks back to the car and the engine starts — the car pulls away quickly.
And there you stand — stunned, in front of the door, wearing only that thin hospital gown, the morning mist pressing against you like cold knife cuts. You shiver slightly from the cold but continue waiting for Wanda to return — without entirely understanding why you're waiting at all.
And very quickly — less than two minutes — the door behind you opens. It's Wanda, stepping from inside the villa, and a wave of indoor warmth rolls out like an embrace, radiating everything the cold outside is not. Your feet carry you toward Wanda on their own, and she draws you in with a welcoming smile. The door closes behind you.
You don't feel strange being held by her. Her warmth slowly makes everything that felt wrong feel right. You find yourself burying yourself into her, faint vanilla and cedar wrapping around you as Wanda's arms circle your back and rub gently — a quiet comfort.
"What would you like for breakfast?"
"A slice of toast with jam..."
"Are you sure that's enough, sweetheart? I don't think one slice of toast will fill you up."
You pull out of her embrace and are quiet for a moment — you were so absorbed in her scent that you forgot what you were doing.
Wanda doesn't seem annoyed by your strange behavior. Instead, she gives you your space and waits.
"Oh right — it's because I don't want to be too full, so I can stay more alert."
"Would you like to rest after eating, sweetheart?"
Sleep at a stranger's house — you don't usually do this... but the warmth of this place keeps soothing the ache from your wounds, and the thought of lying in a real bed buried under a pile of blankets has been following you since the hospital.
"Would that be any trouble for you?" You don't realize how quickly you're agreeing. "I can sleep on the sofa."
"Oh no, I have a guest room and you can stay there to recover. Don't worry — it's always kept clean."
You're fighting an internal battle — should you stay here a few days, or... continue your escape from this country? But your wounds still hurt, and you can't understand why Wanda treats you so well. You've never met anyone this kind. It feels like you've lost your independent judgment. From the moment you stepped into this house, everything before seems to have faded — even how you normally behave with strangers feels harder. Has she sensed something in you? Either way, getting to the airport in two days is still the most important thing. So you'll recover well here for exactly two days.
"You're too kind to me, Wanda..." You press your lips into a small, sheepish smile. Wanda seems like someone you can genuinely trust for these two days.
Wanda nods, accepting your thanks with a quiet "Alright," and then moves toward the kitchen to the left to start preparing your meal.
Something about the interior feels slightly off to you — it's almost too perfect, not a single speck of dust. But you don't dwell on it. Maybe Wanda is just someone who loves cleanliness.
You take a sweeping glance around the living room, then sit at the dining table and watch her slice bread for you. A warm, hungry feeling begins to rise as she sets a jar of grape jam on the table in front of you.
"It doesn't smell as lovely as hot food, but honestly — it's very tempting."
"Oh, are you talking about the food?"
"Both."
Wanda gives a small laugh through her nose at your little joke.
She places the toast on a plate in front of you — that means you can eat now. You pick it up and take a bite. Perhaps this is the sweetest breakfast you've ever tasted...
"Taylor, would you like to change into something warmer than that thin hospital fabric?"
You choke slightly and suddenly remember what state you're in — you practically look half-naked with only that thin layer covering your entire body, and a single gust of wind could expose everything.
And there's the matter of underwear as well... You can't go back to the hotel to get your suitcase. It would be mortifying to walk around in just the gown and nothing else.
Your thoughts feel as stuck as that bite of toast, and Wanda is watching you with quiet concern. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"
"Oh — yeah, um, pajamas or whatever works." Wanda probably won't think too much of it. That's the only thing you can tell yourself, because there really is no other option.
Breakfast wraps up quickly and she guides you upstairs to the room she's set aside for you. The door opens to reveal a neatly made single bed in white — the room as clean as she described. You feel at ease with this.
"Feel free to look around if you like. I'll go find some pajamas that suit you." Wanda cups your right cheek and you let out a small giggle, like being given some kind of gift.
She steps away quickly, taking her warmth with her. You stand in the doorway watching her go — until you catch yourself and feel a pang of self-reproach. This is not the time to be thinking about pajamas or whatever.
How can you be laughing and joking in a situation like this — when in meetings, a mere twitch of your lips is enough to draw every eye in the room. You should be planning the fastest route to the airport, not standing here evaluating how clean every object in this room is. And you should not be getting close to a stranger — it risks exposing your identity—
"Taylor."
You turn your head in surprise — as if Taylor really were your name. Wanda is standing at the top of the staircase, draping what you assume are pajamas over her arm. And just now... what were you thinking about? You gaze quietly at her as she walks toward you — she can probably sense something in your expression.
"Did I make you wait too long, sweetheart?"
You quickly rearrange your face. "Oh no, it's just that my wound is hurting again..."
Wanda bends slightly and places her palm against your cheek. You feel the warmth of it — it makes you sleepy. The gray pajamas in front of you already seem to match where your thoughts are drifting.
"In my opinion, with your injuries, you shouldn't be moving too forcefully — or you'll reopen the wound and it will start bleeding again."