Chapter Text
Steve Rogers considered himself to be a pretty non judgmental, understanding guy. The people closest to him would all say he was right in thinking of himself that way, and it’s because it was true. To him, it was simple. Everybody deserves a fair chance in this world, why give them extra hoops to jump through? Who was he to judge anyone?
He slid into a chair at the breakfast bar, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle and finishing the last few gulps before relaxing back into his seat. He had just gotten back from his early morning run, and the living quarters of the compound were as quiet and dark as usual, but something was different. He knew Natasha was down in the gym, he could see illuminated strips reflected across the lawn from the fluorescent lights a few floors down. Steve was focused on the beams, watching for the flit of Natashas shadow in them when a clinking noise startled him. He jerked his head over to see what it was, and saw Wanda pulling a mug down out of a cabinet. Rings on ceramic. He was taken aback, but realized now what had been different about the kitchen. It had been the low hiss of water in a kettle, slowly coming to a boil on the stove. She was making tea.
His relief turned to silent worry. She was up way earlier than normal. Had she gone to bed at all? What had she been wearing yesterday? Had he seen her? Steve was staring as he thought, and she noticed.
“I turned in early last night. Woke up on my own, couldn’t fall back asleep.” Her voice was quiet, accent heavy as she inhaled over the mug, clasping it a little too tight. Her eyes squeezed shut for a beat too long, and Steve tensed in his seat.
“I see.” He nodded, fighting the urge to sigh as he struggled to believe she had gotten any rest, let alone so much she was wide awake and refreshed so early. He would admit that when he first met her he was weary of Wanda, but looking back he didn’t exactly regret his initial opinion. She had been an enemy first, however blindly she had been led into that role. She had attacked him, along with her brother, and Hydra. His jaw tightened as he remembered that technically while the Maximoff twins were being experimented on and conditioned by an evil faction, unbeknownst to the majority of the organization, that they and Steve had been working for the same company, back when Hydra had been coiled deep in the belly of S.H.I.E.L.D. It put a bad taste in his mouth. So much suffering had been dealt through an organization he had spent his life trying to dismantle. Like Wanda, for some time he had been fighting for a lie, but had finally settled into the light and the right.
As he watched her zoning out into her drink from across the counter he was reminded that he would also quickly follow his confession of originally holding disdain with a remark that he was sympathetic for her from the beginning as well despite their opposition. Though the course of events varied slightly, both she and Steve had a lot in common. They were both orphans who had allowed themselves to be experimented on for a cause they believed in and fought for their truth. It wasn't her fault she had been taken advantage of. Both Wanda and her brother Pietro were victims, plain and simple. Victims of war and suffering, of manipulation and sadness. They had done what they could with what they had. Steve gave her credit also for realizing her mistakes. Wanda wasn't one to blame and point the finger, on the contrary she ushered blame upon herself a little too quickly. Not everything was her fault.
She was soft too, despite all her pain. She still looked for someone to lean on, wanted desperately to be part of something more than herself. Maybe it was an effort to fill the emptiness inside her. He could see it every time he looked at her, no matter if she was laughing or blankly staring off like she was now. A heavy cloud over her, a thousand pounds of weight upon her back. Always atoning for something or blaming herself for something else. She deserved better.
Steve was nobody's fool, he along with everyone else had heard her cries for weeks when she had come back with them to America after they had effectively ruined the rest of her life and taken everything she had left away, and how little it had been to cling to in the first place. Her parents had been gone, but her brother sacrificed himself and then her entire country had been wiped out, reduced to rubble. She had placed her trust in Ultron, a being that she had helped ultimately helped create as much as if not more than Bruce and Tony had. She wanted someone to trust, but it is far too easy to be led astray when you are overcome with vengeance and anger.
The Wanda before him now had grown so much from the angry young woman he had first met, though the pain would never be gone. She was humble, grateful for her life on the team. She was learning to trust again. To trust strangers and allow them to become her team, to trust her surroundings and that she was safe and taken care of, to trust that people had her back. Alongside Natasha, Steve had been working with Wanda one on one, doing their best all together to advance her abilities, to help her control her power and exercise her endurance with it. She could direct it more clearly, utilize it more effectively and collaborate effectively with teammates to create mutually beneficial compounds to use in combat. She had even been working with Vision on managing flight. As far as he was concerned, the only track of development for her he had seen was up and to the right.
Vision had been an interesting point with Wanda, an unexpected turn in his eyes. The guy was nice, of course, but he wasn’t exactly human. Steve didn’t even really know what kind of a relationship that was, all he really knew is that once Vision had had enough of sitting up and listening to her cry from down the hall and had made his first timid attempt at consoling her they had steadily become inseparable. Natasha had always given him a warning look when he was going to inquire from either of them what was happening between them, so he could do nothing but watch. As long as she was happy, he supposed not much else mattered.
Natasha emerged from the elevator now, and Steve nodded in her direction and she offered the pair a curt wave before heading to her room to freshen up. Wanda missed it. Sam passed Natasha in the hall and she entertained his fist bump before disappearing from Steve's line of sight.
“Well, I’ll be.” Sam grinned, hands on his hips as he caught sight of Wanda. “Are you a morning person now?” He pointed at her playfully before heading for the pantry. “I didn’t expect that, but an early morning suits you!” Steve winced lightly, not sure if positive reinforcement for a possible sleepless night was the right move, but she offered a smile, so he supposed it was okay.
A weak spot for Wanda that Steve had begun to try and help her overcome was people's opinions of her. The public is scared of what they don't know, and don't understand. The only opinions that should matter are of those who actually know you and have the ability to actually judge your character. Wanda was honest, caring, loyal, and she was very observant despite how reserved she became in group settings. She could tell you everyone's favorite order at almost anyplace they had ordered from, and even learned to cook the ones that were a more widespread hit within the team. She was a little jumpy, like she was nervous deep down that this found family too would be taken from her, but that would take time to go away. She was slowly opening up. The best thing Steve could do for her was to provide stability, to continue the team building exercises, to keep working with her one on one, and to keep building her up. She was an asset to the team, there was no denying that. She made them stronger and more capable.
He was staring again, and caught the exact moment her demeanor shifted. It was as if someone had taken a dust cover off of her, the protective covering pulled back and she was open, fluid, even smiling. He didn’t have to look to know it was Vision that managed to revive her.
“Good morning Captain Rogers.” Vision greeted him, formal as ever, and slid into his permanent spot at Wanda's side.
“How many times have I gotta tell you. Steve, please.” He looked between Wanda and Vision, and smiled. It was still as odd as ever to him. This maroon man in a sweater and slacks is what it really took to open her up. What an odd pair. Steve didn’t pretend to understand Wanda Maximoff, not at all, but he was sure he was doing everything he could to try, and to help her feel seen in the process. Maybe someday she would be open to them all, but for now, Vision was enough.