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The problem was that Wanda couldn't be sure what was a memory and what was a daydream anymore (she was pretty sure she was losing her mind, dangling somewhere over a cliff in Wakanda or perhaps lying in a grave cradled next to Pietro's decomposing heart). She found, sitting in front of her fireplace, the snow a gentle patter on the frozen lake outside her door, that she could remember at least one holiday with her dream family. It certainly had been different then than it was now. Wanda remembered it with a clarity, like she sometimes would remember their laughs, bright and clear and alive .
That was the part she couldn't wrap her head around.
The alive - or lack of living - part.
They had never really been alive, had they? A figment of her mourning and grief. A tangent of something that could have been but had never been in the cards for her. But she missed them as though they had been real. And who was Agatha to tell her they weren't? Who was Monica to tell her that the children that she had held in her own arms had been a creation of her own magic ? Who were they but villains in their own right to take her children from her?
Wanda's vision shifted to red and then quickly found its way back to normal and she leaned forward, stuffing her fingers in her hair and groaning as she curled in on herself.
She was like this, sometimes. The antagonist of her own heroism. Vision would be disappointed with her, Pietro… well, Wanda didn't know how Pietro would feel about her now. He certainly would have loved to be an uncle. And if she hadn't have lost him then… then… then….
Wanda bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, breathing harshly into the palms of her hands. She was falling apart - she had been falling apart, picking herself back up, and trying to force herself back together again when none of the puzzle pieces matched anymore. She had picked up a copy of Holidays for the Grieving Parent at the grocery store and gave it a cursory read through. It had nothing to help her. After all, did she truly classify as a parent when her children hadn't lived for longer than a year? Even if it had felt like longer in Westview, it hadn't actually been long enough for Wanda to have the memories she did.
Still.
They were there.
Itching behind her eyes and begging for relief.
It was only then that she allowed herself the grace of feeling the burden of her pain. Only then.
Only then.
--
Westview was picturesque. That was why Wanda had chosen it, really. A good place to raise a family and full of the sorts of welcoming folk that Wanda had always imagined living with. She was living her perfect life - Vision, Peter crashing in her guest room, Tommy and Billy. Her boys. All under one roof. It was amazing, spectacular even, everything that Wanda had dreamed her life would become even amidst all of the agony and pain.
But that wasn’t to say that it didn’t still have it’s challenges. Challenges such as finding a store in Westview that carried absolutely anything that had to do with Hanukkah when it fell so close to Christmas. As it was, decorations were already out in stores by mid-October - before Halloween had even waved goodbye and before Thanksgiving could be observed with friends and family around a big wooden dinner table. There were no latkes , no sufganiyot in stores and Wanda wasn’t sure if she quite trusted herself to make them from scratch. As it was, there was no way that Wanda would be able to make anything even slightly as delicious as the ones her mother had crafted during childhood, but Wanda was determined. And, as anyone knew, when Wanda was determined Wanda got what she wanted.
“Mom,” Tommy said with a whine in his voice, holding on tight to the end of the shopping cart that he was propped up on, breaking the rules that were clearly drawn on the plastic plate in the child seat. His blue knit hat was pushed down over his long brown hair - which was starting to get in his eyes, Wanda should chat with Monica about giving it a cut for him - and his winter coat tied tightly around his waist using the arms. In contrast, Billy walked sedately beside her, jacket still on and matching blue hat pulled down over the tops of his ears. They were both bundles of energy, in their own way, but when it came to the grocery store Tommy was definitely the one that would be the most likely to cause problems.
“Yes, Tommy?” She asked absently, grabbing the box of cereal Vision liked the most - Chex - and tossing it into the shopping cart on top of the fruit and veggies she had gotten earlier. Wanda nudged Billy forward when he spent perhaps a moment too long staring longingly at the Fruity Pebbles and softly sang along to Frosty the Snowman on the store’s intercom. Where had he heard that song? Wanda didn’t remember playing it for him. Probably school, she decided with a frown. Not that it mattered all that much. It wasn’t as though Christianity was being shoved down their throats as much as commercialism and Santa Claus and Wanda didn’t quite mind the idea of kindness that the holiday season seemed to preach.
Tommy laughed when she took a corner perhaps too quickly and nearly sent him flying from the end. He was a daredevil, through and through. He reminded her of Peter in that way. “Do we have to make latkes? Can we just have pancakes?”
It was a familiar argument. Billy rolled his eyes but stayed silent and Wanda bristled in only a small amount of annoyance. “Latkes are traditional food for Hanukkah.” She explained as patiently as she could for what had to be the fourth time that very shopping trip. “You’ll like them, promise.”
“But how do you know ?” Tommy tossed his head back as he asked. He was being contrary simply to get the reaction, Wanda reminded herself. He didn’t actually mind the idea that much or he would have been much more quiet than he was being now (and Billy probably would have spoken up on his behalf if Wanda didn’t quite manage to get the point).
“He’s just being annoying on purpose.” Billy confirmed her earlier thoughts. “They’re just fried potatoes.” He directed towards his brother and shuffled closer to Wanda and out of the way of a slow moving older customer talking loudly into their cell phone’s receiver.
“Can I have them with ketchup?” Tommy begged with a wrinkle of his nose.
It was a familiar wrinkle. Wanda had seen it herself in the mirror dozens of times (and dozens more on Peter’s face when something particularly distasteful happened to or around him). Wanda sighed, long suffering but light. Ketchup, she supposed, wouldn’t quite ruin the tradition. “Of course.”
Tommy cheered and even Billy cracked a smile down at his shoes. “Want a turn?” Wanda asked him softly - out of the two of them, Billy seemed to be the more subdued twin, especially as of late. Not that Wanda could put a finger on why - turning nine had simply seemed to change him. Either way, Tommy was becoming rapidly more like Wanda remembered Peter being and Billy more like her. That wasn’t to say that they both didn’t have their… moments, but Wanda noticed that while Tommy was slowly becoming more likely to simply do things and ask forgiveness later, Billy was rapidly starting to pull into the fantasy of his own mind. Wanda was worried only for a very selective reason - she was well aware of just how dangerous it was (with the magic he was beginning to show he had) to live entirely in one's own mind - especially with powers like theirs.
Wanda gestured in front of her and, even with a curious glance in her direction, Billy stepped in front of her, small hands closing on the end of the shopping cart and brown eyes locking attentively with his brother’s. Tommy smiled, an easy, happy thing, and Wanda relished in the quick giggle that placing her hands on Billy’s hips and hoisting him up so that his feet were on the metal rest and back pressed against her chest granted her. “Let’s go !” Tommy rallied loudly and Wanda took off - not nearly as fast as Peter would have done, or even Vision, but fast enough to have both twin boys in a giggling, happy mass. Billy’s shoulders shook against her chest, her chin resting over his chin and Tommy’s loud cheers getting them only mildly odd looks in the store.
It was fine, Wanda decided. She had been weird for years - what was one more when it gave her boys such happiness?
--
“You remember what your mother said,” Vision cautioned the boys, hands tight on a shoulder each and carefully guiding them backwards until his back hit the wall. “We have to stand away from the hot oil. Who can tell me why?”
Wanda rolled her eyes but it was with a smile. She hadn’t expected Vision to be home when she had started baking the sufganiyot . Then again, Wanda hadn’t expected anyone to be home - very much prepared to try her hardest, throw out any that were terrible, and then make a new batch once she had figured out the recipe. She should have spent more time with Clint in the kitchen back when she had had the time, but Wanda had been more concerned with mourning-. “Yowch!” Peter snatched his hand away abruptly, popping it quickly into his mouth with a glare at Wanda as though she was the one that told him to hover so close to the hot oil.
“So that you don’t burn yourself.” She said with a swat to Peter’s arm and a small smile over at the boys. “Run that under cold water.” Wanda told Peter but he didn’t move, eyes still trained to the steaming hot oil as if it had personally betrayed him.
“What are you putting in them?” He asked innocently. “Strawberry jam?”
“Tommy wanted Nutella in his.”
“Yeah!” Tommy pumped the air with his fist. “Nutella’s the best!”
“Strawberry jam is the best.” Peter argued and finally moved from in front of the popping oil and towards the sink. He shoved his hand under the cold water with a tongue stuck out at the boys.
“What did you boys pick out for me?” Vision asked eagerly. The oil popped again and Wanda jumped back to avoid it splattering all over her own skin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do that, darling? I don’t mind.”
“I’ve got it!” Wanda insisted.
She was determined to make them. Determined to give the boys a good Hanukkah. Determined to follow through the traditions her parents had already set for her that she hadn’t had the chance to celebrate in a long time. “Apple butter.” Billy said cheerfully, but with a wince at the next crackle of oil that Wanda instinctively jumped from.
“What was that, cabbage patch?” Vision patted Billy’s shoulder as he spoke.
Billy rolled his brown eyes to high heavens. “We got you apple butter for yours. That kind you like. Made by Lucy at the fruit stand.”
“Oh!” Vision beamed - his happy expression reminiscent of both the boys. “Did you remember I liked that best? Very sweet of you.” He ruffled the boy’s hair in tandem and they both ducked away from the motion in tandem.
There wasn’t much they did that was alike, Wanda had noticed as they aged, but every now and then mannerisms would stick out. “Billy got vanilla pudding.” Wanda dropped a piece of rounded dough into the oil and quickly pulled back her hand as it popped and sizzled. She winked at him and he winked back - Wanda had snuck in a small container of sprinkles when they had left the store to put in with the boys’ respective fillings and Tommy had yet to notice. She was hoping he wouldn’t, if only for his excitement when he realized. “And I got us strawberry jam.”
Peter cheered and Tommy rolled his eyes. “All right, gremlins,” Peter took his hand from the cold water and gestured with his entire being to the living room. “Who wants to let me beat them at Mario Kart while mom cooks?”
--
The menorah was lit, one candle for one night, shining in the reflection on their window, one boy tucked into each of her sides, their heads resting heavy on her thighs. They had long since tired themselves out - and Wanda out, if she were to be honest - between a lively game of Apples to Apples and story telling by the big screen door with Peter. Her brother was snoring loudly in the armchair, legs draped haphazardly over the side and head tipped over the arm in a very uncomfortable angle. Vision had tried to wake him up to slip a pillow under his head but it had done no good - Peter had hit it out from under its spot only a moment afterwards, seemingly more willing to sleep with a crick in his neck then wake up with only a back ache.
Wanda had chanted the blessings with Vision carefully using the shamash to light the first candle and then placing it carefully in its place of honor in the center of the menorah, Peter silent but careful at her side. “Do you ever miss them being babies?” Vision asked softly, Tommy’s legs in his lap and hand petting the boy’s hair softly. Almost in response, as if not to let the other boy feel left out, Wanda tangled her own with Billy’s and felt the tiny sigh that passed through his lips float through her soul.
“It feels like it was just yesterday.” Wanda agreed with Vision’s unmentioned thoughts.
He smiled, something soft in his face, and sighed, leaning back into the couch cushions with his legs splayed out in front of him. “We should probably get them to bed.”
“I don’t feel like waking them up.” Wanda admitted. “This is the most peaceful they’ve been all day.”
“They were excited .” Vision corrected. “We all were.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing bad, Wanda,” Vision soothed. “You just don’t let us see this part of you a lot.”
Defensiveness rose up her spine, crawling like a bug, warning her in the back of her mind - warning her of what she wasn’t very sure of. “What part of me?”
Vision tsked and reached across Tommy to squeeze her hand in his own. “Your religion. It means a lot to you, and you told us about your parents. Which you… don’t usually do.”
Wanda frowned. She supposed he was right. She didn’t often talk about her parents with even Peter. “They’re… not a very happy subject to remember.” Wanda said softly, fingers carding through Billy’s hair and her others wrapped around Vision’s smooth hand.
“I appreciate being told about them.” Vision squeezed her fingers softly and lifted up her hand to press a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “And I’m sure the boys do too.”
Wanda’s head lolled against the back of the couch. “I’m worried about them.” She admitted, so quietly that she was almost sure Vision hadn’t heard her until he spoke again, lifting Tommy just enough so that he sat across his lap, head moved from her thigh to his shoulder, and still lightly snoring in his sleep. Vision shifted closer, pressed his shoulder against hers, and brushed the pads of his fingers against Billy’s cheek. “I can’t put my finger on why .”
“I think,” Vision said after a moment and a sigh. “That you’ve spent a lot of time being worried about a lot of different things.”
“I keep thinking,” Wanda admitted quietly, so as not to startle the boys awake or let her fears be heard by Peter. “That this isn’t going to last. That I’m not going to get to watch them grow up.”
“Darling,” Vision hummed and pressed his nose to her cheek. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“You’re right.” Wanda said after a moment, watching Tommy’s chest rest up and down evenly as he breathed against Vision’s shoulder. “I’m being silly.” She kissed the corner of Vision’s mouth and then looked back down at Billy, sleeping peacefully in her lap. “We should get them up to bed.”
“They’re going to be up early tomorrow.” Vision agreed, already standing and hoisting Tommy farther up on his hip with a skill that Wanda would always be amazed by. She struggled a bit more with Billy - if only because he was dead weight and utterly unhelpful - and started up the stairs, his breath hot against the curve of her neck. “Since Peter promised to make them his special latkes . What makes them so special, anyway?”
“I think he puts sour cream on them.”
“Ah.” The stairs creaked underneath them, but otherwise the house was silent.
Peaceful.
--
Wanda should have trusted her own instincts.
She hadn’t gone anywhere, no, but the boys had.
She shook her head and glared into the fire - Wanda wondered just how long it would take for the memories of the life she could have led to stop hurting. She wondered when she would stop looking for the boys in the face of every child she came across.
Probably never.
Wanda stood up in one fluid motion, walking over to her own menorah, placed haphazardly on the windowsill facing towards the lake. She flicked her fingers against the edge of a porcelain tea cup and watched the first candle light up with a mere thought.
If they were out there, she would find them.
If they were out there, she would do anything to find them.