Chapter Text

2024. Mount Wundagore, Sokovia

November

Looking back, it would be quite a fitting end. Wouldn’t you think? The rubbles of a castle that has no meaning to herself. Looming over and threatening to crush her as she lies under it. One flick of her wrist would make all the difference between her life and death.

Not that it would matter either way.

For others, this would be a cause for celebration. It would put an end to all the horrific things that she did in her selfish quest to reunite with her family.

But who can blame her?

She feels so alone. And she hates it.

Of course, it wouldn't absolve, much less excuse everything she did.

Looking back, she realizes how fucking unfair everything is. She despised her life since she was abruptly broken out from her childhood, just like the missiles that Stark produced hit her home. Since then, her life had been one hell of a shit show. With her left disoriented, trying to understand what happened, and with Pietro helping her navigate their messed up tiny apartment to hide underneath their bed.

But throughout the chaos, she remembers still. She can still recall the sudden cold touch of her father's fingertips in her tiny hands. The warmth of blood is washing over her, which she realizes is her father's. Pietro was shaking their mother awake - her face was unrecognizable.

And then, waiting.

The agonizing wait of not knowing if they will survive the bomb that sits in their apartment. Without a bother, as if it would not have any lasting effect on them.

Then comes the orphanage - if you can even call it one.

For some reason, kids were not seen as a threat. People keep their guard down whenever they are around one. It makes them want to protect them—some sick people need to make themselves feel better knowing that they helped a child.

Pietro and she were always paired together—a beautiful pair of twins, as they say. They're told to pretend to look lost and helpless until one unknowing person approaches, enough for others to pickpocket them off whatever they have.

It was always tourists who fell for it.

What else can they do? They did it to survive. They have to.

They will be on a one-way ticket to a ditch if they don't do what they're told.

Bones broken. Face unrecognizable. Dead.

They learned that the very first day that they got into this hellhole. They are still reeling from the death of their parents.

They didn't have a choice.

They have to keep up. They have to learn. To be quick on the uptake. Or else, they'll be trampled upon.

As they grew older, their tasks changed. Pietro and she were…  fortunate among the other kids; unlike the others, they were told they grew beautifully.

They didn't care what the other kids said. They used it to their advantage. They were the favorites, the chosen ones, the beloved—whatever they were called back then—for a bit more scrap of food, more tasks, a handful of cash—anything.

They were only sometimes paired together then. They don't talk about whatever they did, but they have food in their stomach and some cash to spend. What matters is that they are together.

Sometimes, Pietro still pickpockets when tasked to do so.

While her, she still distracts them.

By any means.

And it makes her sick.

Because it is, the other kids don't realize that just because they're the favorite doesn't mean they're safe.

It puts them more on their radar. Looks for them often. Making it completely impossible to try to escape from their suffocating clutches. The leering eyes and their torturous hands doing unspeakable things to satiate their lascivious thoughts.

The only comfort she had at that time was that Pietro didn't know.

No one can know.

That was the first time that she felt alone.

The hell they were in was paused when a barrage of armed men swarmed in.

Who can blame her when she drew the satisfaction of witnessing their Orphanage Director being gunned down as retaliation for drawing a gun and "violating" a contract? If any, she looked at him dead in the eye as he called for her help to call his men.

In hindsight, getting their hopes up about finally being saved from this place was foolish. Life doesn't work that way, and it is unfair.

With a gun pointed at her and Pietro's head, they were asked to volunteer for an experiment. For a great cause, they said.

In comparison, their conditions with HYDRA are better. Much better. Something about their code of ethics when she asked one man in passing. They get meals whenever requested and have beds, private bathrooms, and toilets. They even let them have a television that Pietro can watch something with along with the old sitcoms that she used to enjoy.

It took no time for them to adjust. In contrast, the others were scrambling for their bearings, from going in from one cage to another. A lavish cage compared to their old one, but a cage still. They endeared themselves by being the ones who abide by their rules. The ones who obey. HYDRA'S miracle, as Baron Strucker told them once. She supposed that when they've known a familiar hell all their life, they wouldn't fear it. It's alright because they still have each other through it all.

Then came Ultron, and it all went wrong. Horribly wrong. Right from when they managed to free themselves from the clutches of HYDRA  and blindsided to fight on the wrong side.

Pietro and her were not meant to be apart. They never were. They have been together her whole life. Whenever she's around, he's guaranteed to be there. And yet, life has separated them. It has always been the two of them. And now it's just her...

It is perplexing, to be born with someone but dying apart.

It all came crashing down right after. No matter how much loss she had faced before then, it had been alright as long as her twin was there with her. But it became horrendous the moment the bullets tore at his body. It was absolutely wrong the moment she felt their connection severed brutally by his death. She felt lost by the loss of his comfort.

Some days, even now, a few years past her brother and past Ultron, she wondered if she made the right call to join the Avengers.

What had the Avengers ever done for her other than take every fucking thing that mattered to her away? What had being the good guy ever given to her? When did being the heroine pay off and make her happy? Joining had taken away her twin and the country her brother wanted to protect.

Being an Avenger had taken away her freedom. Helping the Avengers had taken away Vision's life, Natasha's life, hell, her actual life for 5 years even. Helping them again left her alone, with no one checking in on her after all she had done and lost for them.

She didn't start out as a monster—at least, she thinks so. The line between good and evil is far more porous than people would like to believe. It all stems from desire—a desire for something noble over selfishness.

She admits that she's selfish. She would call herself a hypocrite if she didn't.

She has to be.

She grew up in a place where everyone took from her. It shouldn't be a question for others that she cannot lose someone quietly when she has had to fight for everything she has all her life. It will take blood and bones to let it go. If desire and selfishness were sins, she was barreling steadfast towards the gates of hell, and well, shouldn't her damnation at least have been worth it?

Enslaving a town - albeit unknowingly at first - to live out the perfect reality she wanted. Vision is her ideal husband, who always makes her feel safe. Even the fake Pietro that Agatha sent her way made her euphoric. And her beautiful twins… they healed something within her.

The hex was the easy part; the lying, not so much. Somehow… with that knowledge, her pain didn't hurt less. But it still couldn't compare to the pain of letting them go again.

In her search for her children, she hunted down a child through the multiverse. She hurt and killed so many innocents in her pursuit. She admits that the Darkhold has corrupted her, but that doesn't change the fact that she did all those things. It doesn't excuse her actions.

But despite it all, even if she turned into a monster. A wicked being that deserves to be put down. She hopes that it could make up for all of the things that she did. Through her corrupted sense of loss, pain, and grief, she still did the right thing in the end.

Comforted that in another universe, a version of her living the life she craves exists.

So much so that she tries to take it for herself.

However, despite everything, she has realized it is different. It is not her life. It is a version of her, but it is not the same.

All of the unspeakable things that she did. For nothing.

But still, it was beautiful if you think about it. If only for comfort, that somewhere out there, there is a version of her living a great life with the children that she loves. She understands now that it's not her life to live.

However, thinking why it couldn't be her is still gut-wrenching. Why couldn't she be the one chosen by all those twisted Gods to have the life she wants? Didn't she have suffered enough loss already?

Instead, she's all by herself. And it is not fair.

She was left behind with the ghost of the people she loved. Scrambling to stay in a reality that constantly reminds her that they are dead. Bereft of all the things she wants.

Always telling her that, No, in this universe, she can't have that. Not in this one. There is no "In another universe."

It's a nice thought, but this is it. This is all she gets. It's a real shame that her life couldn't be anything but a tragedy.

She supposed it would be easier to join them in death than trying to bring them back to life - much less trying to take another version of them. With this, she would be with everyone she loves and never leave their side again. She'd be much happier.

The last of the mountain and the castle crashed when she let it go. She stayed where she was and accepted her fate.

If reincarnation exists, she hopes that she meets them again. She prays to any God who will answer to let Pietro be her brother again and to meet Natasha and Vision again. Natasha to be less damaged, but she wouldn't care less if it's not. Vision will never change and will always be the light she loved about him.

Maybe in another life. Another universe, perhaps… but why not this one?

In old times, it was said that magic followed the witch's will.

With Wanda's last thought as the rubble crushed her, her magic again acted.

Chapter Text

2014. Novi Grad, Sokovia

March

Burning.

It was the only word present in Wanda’s mind. Fucking accurate in so many senses. Burning sun, burning bullet embedded in her shoulder, burning ground against her back, burning throat as she let out strangled cries and raggedly inhaled dust.

Pain nearly covered it, but burning was more specific.

Maybe she’s in hell - and probably as her punishment, she’s damned to an eternal pain. To feel the pain as much as she caused others by her madness.

“Wanda!” She heard an alarmed voice on her right and then felt someone nudging her frantically and repeatedly. The ringing in her ear didn’t help her recognize the person shaking her.

On top of the searing in her shoulder (searing worked pretty well, too), there was a throbbing in her right wrist, and she could see behind her eyes that it was swollen from her fall. A faint red sliver of her magic danced in her fingertips.

“We’ll come with you! We’re not trying to escape! We swear! Please! Don’t shoot her anymore! Don’t kill her...“ She then registers that Pietro’s voice has panic-laced with his words. Which confuse her. He’s supposed to be dead… what is happening?

She tried to open her eyes and saw the familiar figure of her brother in front of her. Kneeling as he was blocking her from someone who appeared to be holding a gun who was trained in their direction.

Wanda realizes that this must be a joke.

A cruel one.

If this is how her brain sees fit for a memory to play out before her eventual death, then it will be incredibly ironic. Considering she expects the welcome relief of death to remove her pain from the world that had done nothing but hurt her.

Well, memory is a curse more often than a blessing. It could have been something else, something better - happier.

Is it mad to pray for better hallucinations?

She remembers a distant memory that happened similarly but in much different circumstances. When they were suddenly coerced to move out to another HYDRA base - something about - Nick Fury and Captain America - catching wind of the exact location of the HYDRA base they’re in. She remembered almost being shot at as soon as she was spotted stopping her walk to a vehicle that would transport them. And then Pietro came from behind her to block her from the man.

She tells herself that she wants this. Maybe this is her punishment.

Was it redemption? Not really; it was just a pathetic desperation and not much else.

Wanda is starting to realize that something is wrong. That is not what happened to her.

First, she was not shot at. But she’s pretty sure that she was just shot. The pain in her right shoulder can confirm that.

But this is impossible.

Did she somehow come back in time?

No. That’s a crazy thought. Practically unthinkable. Maybe this is just a replay of her memory. A quick recount of her life - although more twisted than what happened - before she finally dies.

Is it? A small part of her questioned herself, but she immediately silenced that thought.

She closed her eyes briefly as the ringing in her head and the pain in her shoulder worsened. Opening her eyes again, she reached out for Pietro. She notices then that her magic is flowing from her to him.

It alarmed her, as she was not doing anything for it to be like this. Is she going out of control? Not with her brother, please.

It then glowed in his brother’s back - as if it’s harmless. But Wanda knows how capable her magic is. To her surprise, it stayed there and faded into her brother.

She realized that no one noticed what she had just seen.

A protection spell. She realized then what just happened. That’s impossible; she hadn't learned that spell yet.

“What are you doing?! This is against your orders!” She heard a gravelly voice coming from her left as he walked towards the man pointing his gun at them. “Do you not know the two you’re aiming at?!”

“But-” The man tried to defend himself, but he was immediately cut off by the man before.

“I will not hear it!” He hissed, eyes narrowing as he did so.  “Strucker gave us an order to strictly follow the letter, and I assure you that he will hear about this once we’re done here. Now, go make yourself useful.”

She can hear footsteps stomping away from them after that, mumbling something that Wanda can’t hear clearly.

“Wrap this tightly on her shoulder, “ The HYDRA soldier told Pietro as he gave him a bandage. “Take her to the van, and don’t do anything else.” He left after the thinly veiled threat.

Pietro began working on her shoulder. He shakily wrapped the bandage given to him as fast and tight as he could.

“Stay with me, Wanda,” Pietro begged. “Please, don’t leave me.”

She gave Pietro a shaky smile. She supposed that if this was the last thing she thought of in her death, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The burning sun blotted out with black spots in her vision, and Wanda was lost to the world, writhing in the dirt unconsciously.

“Ти бескорисна свињо!” [Serbian/Sokovian: “You useless swine!”]

Wanda woke up to a thundering voice and a loud bang that sounded like someone being shoved into a metal surface. The van that she’s currently in specifically.

It was then followed by a calm tone. As if the violence that had just occurred before didn’t happen.

“Didn’t I tell you not to harm them? Roughen them up to make the extract faster, sure. But… I didn’t ask you to try and kill them. This could greatly affect the project.”

She could not mistake whose voice it was from. She heard it enough times through her 10 years serving as HYDRA’s guinea pig.

Baron Strucker.

If this is a dream, then it is quickly turning into a nightmare.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Strucker asked the man, who was now shaking in his boots.

“I’m sorry, sir. It looked like she was trying to defect. I just took action against it.”

“And did she?”

“No, Sir…”

“I see. You do know that that is one of the twins. You should know by now that they’re loyal to me… No matter, my order still stands, yes?”

“Y-yes, Sir…” The soldier replied shakily.

“And you did the complete opposite of it…” He trailed off.

Wanda then heard Strucker addressing another soldier. “Arrange the rooms for the volunteers and bring me the Twins.”

“It must be nice to have Strucker backing you up.” She heard one enviously sneer at them in the numerous people seated with them in the crowded container van.

“Well, if you know what’s best for you, you better shut your mouth then.” She realized that Pietro was beside her.  She reached for his hand to try and ground herself. Because she’s confused as hell about whatever is happening. Or maybe it’s just the blood loss, and she’s delirious.

The metal doors from the van that they’re in suddenly open. The soldiers prompted them to quickly get out of the vehicle.

They were then directed to Strucker, who was waiting for them just a few steps away.

Once they reached him, he scanned his eyes, and when he saw her with Pietro, he beckoned for them to come closer. His gaze directly to where Wanda was shot.

As Wanda and Pietro approach, Strucker turns to one of his men. “I trust that you can provide him with the appropriate disciplinary action.”

When they reached him, he made a gesture to watch.

Wanda realized that he was punishing the man who shot her.

The man was suddenly kicked down unto his knees and suddenly shot at the back of his head.

Wanda flinched upon witnessing what had just happened. She noticed Pietro tightening his grip unconsciously in her hand. She squeezed back to let him know that she was with him.

After seeing this, Wanda realized that this was not a dream.

Not some memory that is playing before her death.

This is real.

Too. Fucking. Real.

And she’s not sure how to feel about that.

Because if this isn't a dream, how did this happen?

Strucker turned to them and the others further behind them and motioned for them to quiet down.

“Well, now that the excitement has been dealt with,” He began walking back and forth as he observed them. “I’d like to start by apologizing for the abrupt… relocation. We had just encountered some unforeseen circumstances.”

“There were some big changes as well, and I’m happy to announce that I have been promoted to Head Director. I will not bore you with the details, but we have a big project ahead of us.”

He then stopped to look directly at Wanda.

“And also,” He made her way towards her and reached for her injured arm. “For this man’s rude… action against you. Rest assured that our esteemed organization is much more refined than that.”

When she made no move towards him, he rested his calloused hand on her cheek. Wanda felt sick to her stomach at the nauseating, familiar touch.

“Consider that our apology, yes?”

Wanda felt her breath knocked off. She felt like she was choking out of nothing. She thought that she was over this. His calm but calculating gaze pierced her. His sickening touch, disguised as familial.

Well, it turns out that she isn't. over. it.

Wanda couldn’t let any words out, so she just nodded silently, her grip on Pietro’s hands tightening.

“Very well then.” Strucker turned from Wanda to Pietro and clapped his hand once as if in delight. “Take her to our medical team for examination.”

Pietro didn’t need to be told twice. But before they could get away from Strucker, he held out his hand to stop them.

“Also… let the doctor know that the HYDRA Serum could help faster. We could not afford any more delays,” he rested his hand on Pietro’s shoulder - which made him flinch a little - and brushed off some dust. “well, it’s better if you take it too. Report to me if there are any changes. The serum injected into her should help with her wound.”

“Yes, Herr Strucker.” Pietro let out weakly.

Once dismissed, Pietro held Wanda and made their way quickly away from him. Wanda lost her consciousness again right after.

Wanda wakes up to the strong scent of antiseptic. She is lying in a medical bed with a blinding light fixed on her head. She looked around and found Pietro by her side, focused on something that the Doctor - who was checking on her - was saying.

“Well, this is bizarre. This is the first time the HYDRA Serum reacted fast on anyone. Let alone two.”

Wanda turned towards the woman, quickly writing over her medical files and staring back at her shoulder.

“What did you find Доктор?” Pietro asks, a frown forming on his face. [Serbian/Sokovian: Doctor]

The Doctor didn’t reply and just motioned for Pietro to observe. She began cleaning the edges of Wanda’s bullet wound; once she took out the bullet, she waited.

Wanda couldn’t help but glance at the bullet wound on her shoulder and saw it closing up quickly. With no marks that could have indicated that she was shot.

Upon seeing this, her heart sank.

Because she was sure that she gained the ability to heal herself - or learn that she could do it - after she defeated Agatha and gained the Darkhold.

Out of habit, she looked at her fingertips. Upon seeing that her hands were bare, she let out a sigh of relief.

If Wanda is honest with herself right now, it wouldn’t have taken her this long to realize that she came back in time.

It had just synced in that she had gone back… But upon witnessing what had just happened, she was sure that this was real and that, somehow, she still had her powers. She was sure that, at this point in time, she hadn't come into contact with the mind stone yet.

What would happen if she did it again?

She was unsure whether to be happy or aggravated, so she settled on focusing on getting her bearings for now.

She was broken out of her thoughts when she felt Pietro reaching for her hand.

“Сестро? How are you feeling?” [Serbian/Sokovian: “Sister?”]

“I feel great.” Wanda gave him a small smile. She felt quite the opposite. Actually… she’s not sure what she’s feeling. She expected to be dead already, and she made peace with it. But she was also happy that she was back. Maybe, just maybe, she could change some things for the better. Or ultimately avoid things...

“Astonishing,” The Doctor whispered. “I better report this to Herr Strucker. The Serum we gave you two seemed to work better than intended.”

“To be sure,” She turned to Pietro with apprehension. “Can we test it out on you?”

Pietro and Wanda shared a look. Eventually, Pietro agreed.

“Alright, we will not do anything major; I just need to confirm something. " The doctor then gave Pietro what looked like a Lancet. Point this at your finger and click it.”

 After Pietro did as asked, a needle popped out and pricked his finger, making him exclaim.

“Јебига! Кучко. Јебем ти матер. Јебени пакао.” [Serbian/Sokovian: “Fuck! Bitch. Motherfucker. Fucking hell.”]

The Doctor ignored him while Wanda started to sit up, watching her brother with amusement. She cherished moments like this—times when her brother’s humor pulled her out of her thoughts.

She admits that she’s curious about this. Because she’s sure that nothing like this happened before. Well, they weren't injected with HYDRA’s version of the Serum before. However, is it really from this, or is it her magic? She’s not sure anymore.

After wiping the blood away, Pietro showed her his finger, which was still bleeding. However, after a few minutes, it closed out on its own.

Wanda smiled. She supposes this is one positive way that has come from this.

“Well, that’s interesting,” The Doctor muttered. “You had a bullet wound in your shoulder, but it healed on its own within seconds -” She stated while noting her observations on a clipboard. She nodded towards Pietro, “- and as for you, you have a small puncture in your finger, but it healed slowly in comparison.”

“Who cares?” Pietro grinned at Wanda. “We have healing powers now.”

“Oh, don’t be full of yourself now,” Wanda replied.

“Of course!” Pietro playfully exclaimed. “Hey, you know I’m 12 minutes older than you, right?”

“Yeah, the same thing.” Wanda rolled her eyes. She looked at the Doctor to confirm something more. She tried to feel her emotions or thoughts but came up blank…

That’s weird… in the past, she doesn’t have any trouble when she does this. She can even do it with her eyes closed, like breathing air into her lungs.

She tried again with the Soldier across the room who was supposed to guard them, but she still came up blank. She panicked for a bit.

What’s going on?

She then turned towards Pietro, and when the familiar feeling of her twin hit her, it made her more befuddled. She has not yet announced her presence to him. But it is good to know that her powers still work, to what extent she doesn’t know…

Once the Doctor dismissed them, they were escorted to their room. Pietro then began to turn back and told her that he would report the Doctor’s findings to Strucker.

She was about to say something but looked over his shoulder to see the guard escorting them to remain still. After staring at each other to see who would budge, Wanda reluctantly acquiesced.

“Alright, then. I’ll be here and rest up early.” This would also allow Wanda to regain her footing and think about things.

Hell, she still doesn’t even know the date today.

After Pietro left their room, she began recounting anything that happened in her life. And all the things that she can change now that she’s back…

She wanted to change so many things that happened in her life that she was not sure where to start.

As much as it hurt when they left her to fend for herself, she wanted to change how she met them. She wouldn’t want to dig up their worst nightmares - worst memories in Natasha’s case - now that she knew better.

For starters, maybe she could save Novi Grad, her hometown, from destruction. Pietro... she can… prevent him from dying. If she decided to join the Avengers - if they do let her join - she could stop Brock Rumlow from blowing himself up. The Sokovia Accords, the fight between Tony and Steve that got out of hand, Vision dying, Thanos winning the war, and Natasha sacrificing herself for the Soul Stone…

There were a lot of things that she wanted to change. Well, maybe she would want to help more, if nothing else, to reduce the horrendous things that she had done.

But if she’s being selfish, she would like to run away from all these things. Of all this, the change she wants the most is to keep her brother alive and happy. That’s her priority. Even if it cost hers, it would be fine. She had enough living on her own anyway.

She owes it to him…

Maybe, by removing herself from the picture, the other Avengers wouldn’t have a hard time in their lives.

Hell, she’s not even sure if she still has her powers. Maybe it's the price for her to return in time, and she’ll gladly give it away if that is the case.

What did her powers do anyway?

A weapon when Strucker found out that She and Pietro survived the exposure from the mind stone. A target when they first encountered the Avengers, a weapon again to be used with Ultron using them for something they didn’t even agree on.

And when Pietro died, she was viewed as a monster when all that she did was try to help stop Ultron.

She was the reason why the Accords were written. If she hadn’t messed with Bruce’s mind back then, he wouldn’t go on a rampage - painting a bad light to the Avengers. If she hadn't let out her powers on a rampage back in Sokovia and just stayed put in the cradle like she’s supposed to, they probably wouldn’t have any idea in trying to control her; hell, if she was just able to stop Rumlow in time back on her first mission in a research lab in Lagos and move him to a cleared area before he blew himself up, it wouldn’t get worse.

Tony and Steve's fight is personal, but she should've understood where both sides came from. She supposed her hatred for Stark at that time made her look away, but in her defense, she was too occupied with the thought of the Accords trying to take over her life and her fallout with Vision and Natasha to care.

And Vision, he wouldn’t have to always compromise because of her. He would have been safe with Stark when she’s on the run from the government, but he accompanied her instead. Which leads him to be haunted and stabbed just to get to the infinity stone. She supposed that he wouldn't get hurt if he was with Tony then. He would have had the Mind stone removed from him as soon as they discovered that it could be separated from him. And if only he did not have any kind of affection for her, she is sure that he wouldn't just let her blow a hole through him without a fight.

And Natasha… out of all the things that she regretted doing, the things she wanted to change the most is how she brought her worst nightmares to the surface and deeply affected her. She supposed that she couldn't form a close bond with her because of that. Well, they are, were… close. But unlike Clint, she wasn’t really able to get past her guard; at least, she thinks so. She did feel it sometimes, her letting her guard down to her, but it was not enough.

Wanda’s greedy in that way.

She supposes that is why she sometimes catches herself getting jealous of Clint. Scratch that, no - she’s not jealous. Is it that bad to want to have a female friend? Also, how can one not want to be her friend? She’s kind, graceful, intelligent, and captivating in her own right… She’s courageous to the point that she’s willing to sacrifice her life for the world.

Still, aside from her pain over the loss of Natasha, it kind of irks her that the last person to get to be with her is him. Leaving her a bitter aftertaste in her mouth with the knowledge that the last person who held her before she… died… is him. A morbid thought if you think about it, but she’s selfish in that way.  And no, she’s not jealous. It’s just that she would've done something - anything - to let her live.

Hell, she’s better than Wanda in every other way.

Where Natasha is willing to give up her life to save the world, Wanda would rather tear the whole world down for her.

Well, she’s her friend, of course she would. And no, no, no, not just her. For everyone she cared about. Yes, everyone. Pietro, Steve, Clint, Vision, Billy, and Tommy, and her…

Breaking out of her reverie, Wanda turned on the television, trying to see if she could find anything, but it only showed Pietro’s sports channels and her sitcoms. She supposes it makes sense; although Strucker made everything easier on them, he wouldn’t want them to know anything outside the base.

No matter; she remembered from her past that after they had been transferred here that they would start experimenting with the mind stone shortly.

It will be roughly about two year until the Avengers team discovers this base and shuts it down to take Loki’s Scepter. She needs to talk to her brother before then.

With that thought, she let her eyes close for sleep to take over her.

A loud knock on their metal door cell woke Wanda up from her slumber.

Blinking away the sleep from her eyes, she found the door opening, and Strucker’s men were entering her and Pietro’s room. Alarmed, she looked to her left and found Pietro on his bed on the other side of their room, mirroring her stance. Confusion was reflected in his eyes.

“Does Herr Strucker need us?” Wanda began, already knowing the answer to her question.

This should be the day they will be exposed to the Mind Stone.

“Herr Strucker requests everyone’s participation in the new Project. We are here to escort you.”

Before, Wanda was one of the last to be exposed to the Mind stone due to Strucker’s apprehension about the initial exposure to the others before them. But now, Wanda volunteered to be the first to go through it. And with Wanda first, Pietro always comes in after her.

When the metal door closes behind her, she can feel the Stone calling out to her.

It made her nervous; she wasn’t sure what would happen if she got exposed again.

“For our notes, Miss Maximoff, could you please state your name and confirm your status?” she heard through the fixed speakers in the room.

“Wanda Maximoff. Volunteer.” She winced lightly after.

She is not really a volunteer - per se, but she kept it to herself. She knows how they work already. She didn’t want to give them any reason to treat her differently now. She and Pietro are Strucker’s favorite volunteers because they are easy. They don’t ask questions. They just do it.

“Let us begin, ” The speakers blared off with instructions again. “Touch the sample.”

When she starts to make her way toward the scepter, the same thing from before happens. The glowing stone began to rattle out of its hold in the scepter and began to approach her.

But it stopped.

It set off alarm bells in Wanda’s mind. Fear and trepidation began to consume her as she approached this time.

Wanda Maximoff, daughter of Olek and Iryna.

Did she finally lose her mind? Is the mind stone speaking to her telepathically?

We meet again, Heroine.

‘No, I don’t deserve that title.’ She shook her head in denial,  a clenched fist igniting scarlet energies. ‘I’ve had so much blood in my hands.’

But you are. You can correct your past actions now. The stone boomed dispassionately as if it were speaking directly into her mind. 

‘You knew that I turned back the time?’ Wanda blinked back in surprise. 'I... I have a question, when I came back, what happened to my powers? It seemed like it was working, but only with my twin?'

Know that everything happens for a reason. You exhausted your magic by coming back. It stands to reason that it would take time to use it again.

'W-what about the others? Did anyone know that I came back in time?'

The stone did not say anything more to her. Instead, it glowed again, effectively blinding her. She could feel the stone's energy magnifying her powers again.

Wanda doesn’t know what to feel about what’s happening. She doesn’t understand why the stone would trust her once more.

‘Thank you for trusting me once again.’ She thought shakily. ‘My brother, please he-’ Wanda began to ask, but she was cut off.

It shall be done, Champion.

The new way she was addressed confused her, but she did not question it.

‘I don’t know why you would agree so easily, but I am in debt.’

Consider it a gift before everything that will come to pass, Champion.

Now then, take your rest, you have much to do.

The stone declared, a moment after, the room pulsed yellow.

Chapter Text

2015. Novi Grad, Sokovia

March

A year has passed since then. A year has passed, but Wanda still feels that everything that happened to her was surreal. She was still astonished by the fact that she had gone back in time - to be honest, she was still waiting for the other ball to drop. She couldn’t help but think that there was a catch.

There always is.

Since her encounter with the mind stone, she realizes that she still has all her abilities from before - and more - much more than even after she realizes that she’s the Scarlet Witch, she can feel it. And it scares her because is this really the magnitude of her power, and she just didn’t realize it?

Well, she supposed that she had always been slow on the uptake when it came to her powers.  In her defense, she had never really used her powers unless she needed to…

Agatha was right; her self-doubt crippled her. She has all the power, but she ignores it. But who can blame her?

It's scary to think if she loses all her control again…

Because… she wants to do good. Yes, she can be good. She doesn’t want to be viewed as the bad guy anymore.

But then, the ball dropped on her. She should've known that there always will be one.

The Darkhold. Hell, the first time that she heard it calling her again, it made her freeze. Because didn’t she destroy every copy of it throughout the multiverse? Apparently, not because one managed to survive and is trying to call her.

She tried to resist, of course. But the souls trapped in that book were relentless. Always trying to get her to do their bidding. Always trying to poison her mind as if she didn’t know any better now.

She almost opened it once… to discover why this particular one was not destroyed. But she managed to catch herself.

The souls of the damned trapped in that book were truly terrifying things. She didn’t know why it almost got to her. She should have known by now the dangers in that book.

She suspected why. Maybe it wasn’t a book at all, but something else. Something of her.

So she hid it. She created her hyper-space storage, hid it at its depths, and conveniently forgot about it. Out of sight. Out of mind. As far as she’s concerned, it doesn’t exist.

It's better for everyone that way.

After Strucker’s experiment ended, which resulted in the two of them surviving like before, Strucker doubled down on them both. They were given a set of schedules every day to train them.

For what, Wanda didn’t know.

They didn’t have any formal training in her last life, but the reason is still the same, either way.

They're being trained to be weapons. As Strucker’s personal soldiers.

She supposes that staying quiet and keeping your head down pays off. Strucker didn’t even realize that the twins that he favored so much couldn’t be controlled.

It's laughable how he thinks that just because he knew their sob story, saved them from that forsaken orphanage - and treated them like they were his children, he would get their loyalty. Banking on his psychological tactics to instill fear within them.

Well, in hindsight, they did used to fear him and he did manage to get to use them as his soldiers last time by weaponizing their hatred towards Stark. But she knew better now.

And if Strucker feels any inkling of them defecting, she wouldn’t stress about it. In a worst-case scenario, Pietro and she can always break away from them.

But for now, she decides to wait. She needed to. If she had plans to save her friends, could she still call them that? And besides, they’re being trained to fight - and who wouldn’t take advantage of that? As long as they don’t get hurt, it’s fine. They’ve been here for a long time, what’s another few more.

Surprisingly, Strucker actually allowed them to train in whatever of their choosing.

Language, weapons, combat, vehicular control, strategy - whatever they like- provided they can give out a good enough reason.

And Wanda, being Wanda, picked everything that can give her an advantage - everything. She learned a hard lesson back then that no matter how powerful her magic was, she couldn’t always rely on it.

But she can feel it.

The apprehension of the other HYDRA soldiers as they pick up fast whatever they are taught. The hidden contempt when Strucker officially announced to the HYDRA soldiers that they are now part of their ranks and, as he calls them, his miracle. There is fear in them whenever she and Pietro use their powers - albeit weakly. She can feel it in their action, how someone will always be ready to pull the trigger on them - not that it would matter.  

But she must admit that, through every lesson she’s taught with Pietro, she has become creative by using her powers. She didn’t have time back then to fully exercise her magic, but it was quite nice to do so.

Currently, Pietro and she are training with their powers - with supervision, of course.

Well, it's more like putting on a show. Wanda wouldn’t want them to know the extent of her and Pietro’s power.

She made them believe that their powers were still weak (not that weak), but they were far more than that.

For all the things that she learned in the past, she thinks that astral projection is useful - and combine it with using the mirror realm  - she’s limitless. She uses that so She and Pietro can train fully. She supposed she could thank Strange for introducing her to that one, albeit in a boorish way.

Sure, she could create a dimension, but they needed to be subtle. Plus, they didn’t really wanna leave the training room that they were in - she still wanted to guard their physical form.

An alarm rang through the training room, making Pietro and her return to their physical form. They knew it wouldn’t be long until they were called.

“Your training has been cut short,” The soldier supervising them announced. “Herr Strucker wants to see you two.”

“Did he mention anything in particular?” Pietro was the first one to ask.

Wanda didn’t bother, she already read their mind.

“He wants to show us something,” Wanda replied before the Soldier could. Giving Pietro a smirk while the Soldier looked bemused.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot that you could read minds,” Pietro replied, grinning back.

She must admit that it was fun to mess with them now that the power shift has changed. Well, just because she’s willing to settle here for now, it doesn’t mean they won’t get to psychologically torture them and have their fun.

And if that puts them more on edge, that would be even better.

Their good mood from messing with another HYDRA minion was stopped when they noticed where they were being led.

For all their time in HYDRA, they were never really allowed at a certain level. But when they noticed that the lift that they were in was going downward to that particular floor, they turned to the supervisor in confusion.

The supervisor just shrugged smugly.

Annoyed, a quick mind read from Wanda tells her that he doesn’t know anything as well and was just tasked to get them there.

‘Wanda?’ She heard Pietro trying to communicate with her.

‘He doesn’t know anything as well. Don’t let him fool you.’ Wanda replied.

‘То јебени копиле.’ Pietro let out in annoyance. [Serbian/Sokovian: That fucking bastard.]

‘Don’t mind him. Let’s just see what Herr Strucker wants.’ Wanda stressed on Strucker’s title for himself sarcastically.

When they reached the floor, Wanda and Pietro were directed immediately by a soldier waiting for them by the lift to follow him.

As they got near the room they were supposed to go to, the sound from it disturbed her right down to her core.

‘Wanda. I-it looks like they’re torturing someone inside…’ Pietro called out to her.

‘Be ready, Pietro.’ Wanda said nothing after that. ‘I’ll link our minds just in case.’

‘That would be better, I think.’ Anxiety coloring his words.

When they got it, she immediately felt sick.

What is inside the room couldn’t have prepared Wanda more for the horror she’s witnessing.

There, in the middle of the room that they’re in, is someone she recognized at first glance.

Someone she knows.

The Winter Soldier.

James Barnes.

She first knew of him when she was asked by Clint to join their team and help him and Steve to get to Siberia.

She knew of what they had done to him, but she didn’t expect that she would witness it firsthand.

He’s currently strapped into some sort of leather chair. With all sorts of wires connected to him - it looked like it was monitoring his vitals. What unnerved her, though, was the huge machine behind him pumping electricity into his head.

Why the hell is he here?!

‘Do you know this guy, Wanda?’ Pietro asked in confusion.

Shit. He heard her thoughts.

‘Yes…’ She couldn’t lie to him if she tried.

‘How?’

‘Later.’ Wanda looked at him pointedly to stop him from pushing.

‘Alright then, but I’ll hold you to that.’ Pietro sighed. ‘Don’t think I haven't noticed that you’ve changed Wanda. I’m your twin.’

‘Yes, I know.’ She replied with a sigh of her own. ‘But now is not the time, and right now, we should -’

Their conversation was cut short by another bone-shrilling scream of pain coming from James.

‘Јебига, Wanda! Можеш ли нешто да ураде?!’ Pietro asked in horror. [Serbian/Sokovian: Fuck, Wanda! Can you do something?!]

‘Јебени пакао! Чекај, дај да пробам нешто.’  Wanda replied, trying to keep herself calm. [Serbian/Sokovian: Wait, l- l- let me try something.]

Wanda knows that she has done horrifying things in the past, but nothing could have prepared her for seeing something like this suddenly.

But before Wanda could try anything else, she was interrupted by Strucker’s voice calling for them.

“Ah, you’re here already.”

Wanda and Pietro shared looks of horror before fixing their face to face him.

“Herr Strucker,” Wanda began as they walked towards him while trying to keep a straight face, “You called for us?”

“Yes, I want to show you two something.”

“And, that is?” Pietro asked him this time, his tone as if he was unbothered - but to anyone but her, it was clearly the opposite.

Strucker didn’t reply; he only motioned for them to come closer and wait by his side.

“Start again.”

After his command, the Doctors started the machine to generate electricity again - essentially frying his brain.

After a while, Strucker motioned for the Doctors to stop, which they immediately followed.

‘If his goal is to induce his usual psychological trauma, it’s working...’ She heard Pietro in their link.

Wanda didn’t have any reply to that because it is true.

‘Just - focus on not showing your thoughts to his face, Pietro.’

“Apologies for this unappealing sight, but” Strucker paused and turned to the both of them. “He did something that wasn’t in his directive.”

‘Huh? Did something happen outside?’ Pietro wondered.

‘Pietro, focus!’ Wanda admonished slightly.

‘Sorry.’

“And,” Wanda motioned to the equipment attached to James, acting clueless. “this is all for…”

Strucker began approaching Wanda, which made her and Pietro on edge.  “This is what happens to those who don’t follow.” Strucker reached out for Wanda’s hair and began arranging it - it irks her when he acts like this. “But don’t worry. He’s all fixed up now.”

“That’s great…” Wanda doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“Of course, you don’t need to go through this.” Strucker looked at both of them in the eye. “You’re always able to comply.”

There was a pause in that moment. She and Pietro didn’t know how to reply to that one.

Wanda tried to reach out to Barnes’s mind to see if she could try to fix it.

What she saw made her heart break for him when she reached inside his mind. His mind is so broken that you couldn’t even connect which is which. It also made him look up directly towards her.

‘He noticed that I was trying to look into his mind.’

‘Can you help him?’

‘I can. I just need time…’

Now that she had seen his mind, she was unsure if she could fix his mind at a given time like this, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. She just hoped she wouldn’t make it worse.

In her focus, she didn’t notice that Strucker then suddenly turned his attention from Wanda back to James.

“Well, I better start on this. We’re running on a tight schedule. Watch closely; I want you to meet someone.”

He motioned again for the Doctors to start Bucky’s repair (torture) before pulling out a dark red notebook.

‘Wanda, Watch out!’ She heard Pietro calling out for her, but before she could safely pull away from James’s mind, she felt the first current of electricity frying his mind.

When Wanda got out of his mind, she winced as she felt the shocks of James’ brain being electrocuted.

‘Thanks for the lookout, Pietro.’ She gritted her teeth as she tried not to show any reaction to the aftershocks that she was feeling.

‘Anytime. What did you see?’ Pietro asked.

‘I… don’t know… Pietro, his mind is so broken, I can’t even figure out which is which.’

In her past, she didn’t get a chance to look at his mind in-depth, understandable really, they were busy fighting for their lives because of the Sokovia Accords. And from what she can remember, he was being hunted by the Black Panther then…

Everything was all over the place.

‘Они су чудовишта! Све њих!’ Pietro exclaimed. ‘I don’t think I can take this anymore, Wanda. We have to stop them.’  [Serbian/Sokovian: They’re monsters! All of them!]

‘I know Pietro… But remember that it's better to take them down from the inside…’ Wanda gently reminded him.

‘But-’

Their quick conversation was halted once again when Strucker began speaking words that he was reading off from the notebook he was holding.

Wanda looked James in the eye, and to her surprise, it looked like he was saying something.

Желание. [Russian: Longing.]

Three short blinks.

S

Ржавый. [Russian: Rusted.]

One long blink.

Семнадцать. [Russian: Furnace.]

Another long one.

Рассвет.   [Russian: Daybreak.]

And another…

O

Печь.    [Russian: Seventeen.]

Then followed by three short blinks again

S

 Девять. [Russian: Benign.]

SOS

 Добросердечный.  [Russian: Nine.]

‘Wanda, have you seen it too?’ Pietro asked shakily once he understood.

‘Јеботе, Pietro, он тражи помоћ!’ Wanda panicked when she realized what he wanted to say. [Serbian/Sokovian: Shit, Pietro, he’s asking for help!]

Возвращение на Родину.  [Russian: Homecoming.]

Один. [Russian: One.]

With each trigger word that Strucker said out loud, Wanda and Pietro’s hearts broke by the drastic change in James.

Товарный вагон. [Russian: Freight Car.]

Barnes stood up immediately after Strucker spoke the last word.

Barnes looked directly at him and gave a curt nod.

“я готов отвечать.” [Russian: Ready to comply.]

‘It’s too late…’ Pietro trailed off, not knowing the words to what have they just witnessed.

“I have a high-priority mission for you, Soldier,” Strucker produced a manila folder containing documents and handed it to James. “Sanction and punishment. You will have a backup for this one.”

“Is it gonna be us?” Pietro asked first before Wanda could.

When James opened the files, Wanda’s heart dropped at what she saw.

In it, she saw two targets…

Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff.

Wanda almost blew a hole through Strucker right then and there.

If Strucker thinks that she will harm Natasha - and Steve, then he is so fucking wrong.

Fuck it all if the lives of the people she cares about are on the line.

‘Wanda, focus.’ Pietro reminded her this time.

Breathing in to try and keep herself calm, she replied, ‘Yeah, I just need a moment.’

‘You have to tell me everything right after this,’ Pietro announced, ‘I noticed that you know the targets.’

‘I-I’ll tell you everything later, Piet. J-just… I just need to focus on this one first.’ Wanda pleaded. Her worry started to make her go into a spiral.

“Wanda? Are you with us?”

Wanda and Pietro were pulled out of their conversation when Strucker called for Wanda.

Trying to regain her composure, Wanda blinked and breathed slowly. Pretending to examine the files while looking at Natasha’s picture.

“Yes, Of course, Herr Strucker.” Wanda calmly glanced back at him and replied,

Wanda quickly read his mind to see what the conversation had been about.

It turns out they weren’t needed for his mission. He just needed them as a backup for his extract.

She also quickly read about anything that could help her know why HYDRA wants two of her friends dead.

And it's no surprise that it's because they’re actively pursuing HYDRA to shut them down. It seems that they were the reason for their unannounced relocation back then.

“So you want us to fill in for his extract if the others are indisposed?” Wanda continued after responding to him.

“Exactly.” Strucker nodded in satisfaction. “You may not be needed, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup, right?”

“Naturally,” Wanda answered.

After that, Strucker dismissed the three of them. With one going on his way for his mission, the other two back on what they're doing.

Before James could walk further from them, Wanda sought the chance to cast one spell towards him.

She hopes this could help Natasha and Steve for now.

Chapter Text

2015. New York

April

NATASHA

Natasha never really liked hospitals.

Loathes them to be more specific.

She hated how sterile hospital rooms felt; even the smell of the antiseptics echoed how completely lifeless they were. She was practically blinded by how white the rooms in this place were; even the posters on the wall were more clinical than comforting. It was less a room and more a doctor’s office with a bed. Wherever she looked, the sterile environment made her feel how void of life the place felt. She sometimes wonders, how people could hope to fight for their life in such a place.

Hospitals are supposed to be a place where a life is delivered; and also to lengthen it - from an injury, life-threatening illness, whatever it is. And in other cases, it could also be a place where death takes its toll.

Well, she supposes she is one of those people.

Sometimes, whenever her thoughts drown her, she thinks that at some point in time, she already died just that she’s not been buried.

Well, maybe it’s just the cynic in her. But how can you blame her? Her experience with places like these - although only once - never ended well…

As far as she’s concerned, she would prefer not to be here.

“You’ve been reading the same page from that book for a long time now. Is there something wrong?”

Natasha heard Steve cut off her musings. She was a bit grateful to be honest, because any more than that she’ll go into a spiral. She wouldn’t say that out loud though.

Natasha closed the book that she was supposed to be reading and looked up to see Steve, who was currently in a hospital bed, now wide awake. He still looked pretty beaten up but he’ll live.

She’s supposed to be on bed rest as well from the gunshot wound that she got from the Winter Soldier - or well, James Barnes as Steve mentioned - but she didn’t want to be confined in her suffocating room.

Of course, she wouldn’t tell him that. No one should know that she’s scared of - no, no, no she’s not. She hates it. Loathes it. She’s not afraid. She’s not weak.

She stood up from the couch that she was in and made her way towards one of the wide windows and looked over the view outside.

“About damn time that you’re awake, Rogers.” She ignored his inquiry, as always.

Steve looked over at her for a moment and let out a sigh before he asked. “How long was I out?”

Of course, She knows that He noticed and just let it go, but she will not acknowledge it. She’d much prefer to be shot again.

Natasha turned towards him and leaned against the window, “About a week and a half.”

“That long?” Steve again asked in surprise.

“Uh huh,” Natasha raised an eyebrow at him and smirked sardonically. “Fury’s pissed you know.”

“What for?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Mission report.” She replied simply with a shrug.

“You didn’t turn in yours?” Steve asked in surprise, shifting in his bed to sit up properly.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to include your buddy in the report.” Natasha looked at him pointedly after.

Natasha is the one who is asking questions this time. She prefers this - pushing for answers than the latter. She has more control over the conversation this way.

But Steve is different from her, he didn’t deflect or hide. He answered straight to the point. Well, she supposed she could give him credit for that.

“To be honest, I’m just as surprised as you are.” Steve let out before glancing at her. “I didn’t expect that my… best friend is still alive… not to mention controlled by HYDRA.”

Natasha looked at him for a second before replying.

“Your call Rogers,” Natasha gave him an out this time. “But you and I both know that He’s smart. He’ll know that something’s up if you don’t put it in.”

“I know…” Steve sighed and laid down again on his bed. “It’s probably best to include him.”

“Well, to be fair, I’m not the one who dropped his shield and almost got killed on a ship.”

Steve chuckled lightly, “You know me, always looking for dramatics.”

“Stark rubbing off on you?” Natasha smirked.

Steve laughed hard this time and shook his head in bemusement.

“You know, I almost lost hope.” Steve’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought he wouldn’t come around. But I saw him. He’s there. He saved me.”

Natasha didn’t know how to reply to that one. Emotions aren’t her thing.

“I don’t know how he snapped out of whatever HYDRA did to him - if only for a bit - but it makes me relieved to know that he’s still there.” Steve continued.

Natasha was surprised that he’d just speak to her about his best friend just like that. It confuses her. He’s too… honest.

It’s just that in their line of work, you wouldn’t encounter honest people that much.

She guessed He was one of the few.

After a while, Natasha decided that it was best to leave him alone. She didn’t want to overstay her welcome.

And now that He’s awake, she can leave this place. At least Fury will have someone to find when he visits.

“Well, I better get started on that report then.” Natasha pushed herself from the window that she was leaning on and began to make her way towards the door.

“Wait, weren’t you shot?” Steve asked before she could make her way out further. “Were you supposed to be on bed rest and you didn’t tell me?”

Natasha didn’t reply and just shot him a smirk. “Tell Fury that I’ll have his report by Monday.”

“Hey Romanoff! Don’t leave me with Fury!”

Three days later, Natasha is now making her way towards one of the briefing rooms at the Avengers Compound. When she got there, she noticed that everyone from the group was already situated.

Thor and Bruce were talking about something with Clint adding to the conversation occasionally.

Steve and Tony were having a different conversation which looked like it was turning into a debate. When Tony starts to rope in the other three in their supposed conversation, Natasha decides to make her presence known.

“So, it looks like the whole gang is here,” Natasha announced as she opened the door. Effectively stopping the ongoing debate for a moment.

However, it didn’t deter Tony, because he tried to rope her in as well. Which made her roll her eyes inwardly.

“Hey Red settle this debate,” Tony looked at Natasha and beckoned for her to sit down.

“And what do you need my opinion for?”

“Because it is for the mission.”

Natasha looked at Tony for a moment and raised one of her eyebrows at him. “And that is?”

“Thor and I have the same opinion regarding this supposed enhanced soldier that HYDRA has. While these two think differently.” Tony told her in reply while pointing at Steve and Clint.

“I am kinda on the fence about it.” Bruce supplied after.

“Still doesn’t explain anything.” Natasha gave them a deadpan look as she took a seat across from Tony. “And shouldn’t we wait for Fury for this?”

Tony scoffs and just widens his eyes, expecting her to answer. Like the drama king that he is.

“He wants us to attack on sight as there isn't really any information regarding them. But in my opinion, we shouldn’t unless they are confirmed hostile.” Steve was the one who answered for her.

“And that’s precisely where you’re wrong Capsicle,” Tony replied right after. He situated himself further in the office chair that he was sitting in and continued. “getting the jump on them first is better than them, don’t you think?”

Steve was about to say something in reply but just shook his head instead.

“C’mon Red you’re the tie-breaker here” Tony urged, waving his hand over at her, prompting her to answer.

“I’m gonna be logical here and wait for Fury.” She looked at them pointedly after that to stop them pestering her.

“Are there pop tarts around here?” Thor broke off the slight tension from the previous conversation which made everyone laugh lightly.

Before anyone could reply to him though, Nick Fury strode into the room, his presence commanding as ever.

“Settle down everyone, this is an Avenger’s level operation. I have a mission that requires all the tricks in the playbook,” Fury began, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ve got intel on something big and we need all hands on deck.”

He placed a set of files on the table with a thud and gestured for them to take one as he tapped on the tablet that he was holding to project the data that he had in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the table, a huge 3D model of the base stood.

“Intel states that there is a confirmed Hydra research base operating out in Sokovia. A small country, but the increasing HYDRA activity is a cause for alarm. We don’t have the complete mapping inside the area, but this is the place.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed in concentration as she opened the files. “And you need us to do what?”

“Two things.” Nick tapped again on his tablet and projected the image of a very familiar scepter.

“It has been confirmed from a previous operation that there is ongoing research in this HYDRA base. And we have collected energy signals in that place that is reminiscent to the scepter. I need you all to look into that, if there is indeed a confirmation that it is there, there is a big possibility that they are using it for their research as mentioned previously.” Fury turned to them before continuing. “I’ll let you  decide on who will handle that task.”

“If you have reason to believe that Loki’s missing scepter is there, then we best put this in our priority,” Thor spoke up urgently. “It is not ideal for it to be in their possession.”

“What about the o-”

Bruce was about to speak up but decided against it when Fury cleared his throat, his one eye narrowing slightly. “I will answer your questions after I’m done briefing. Understood? And Thor, that’s the plan.”

Bruce nodded sheepishly after that.

“And as for the next objective,” Fury nodded again at them before he tapped again into his tablet, changing the image from the scepter back to the base.

“I require a bit more finesse.” Fury rotated the image of the base in the back and zoomed in. “We have identified a possible back entrance but keep in mind that it has not been confirmed.”

Before Fury could continue, Steve let out his thoughts impulsively.

“It is truly fascinating to know that we have come to this time and age. Where we can discuss images in 3D.”

Tony smirked and smugly replied. “Uh, yes. Thanks to me and my technology, Ice Man.”

Natasha felt her eyes twitch after hearing Tony and looked up from the files that she was reading.

“You might want to give him some space from all the air going in his head.” Natasha quipped.

“And you are too quick to pop on that,” Tony replied in amusement. “don’t you Red?”

Clint was about to add something as well but was cut off by Fury who didn’t look amused at them.

“Going back to the topic at hand.”

Natasha and the others looked back again at the projected image.

“What I need all of you to do,” he looked pointedly at them before continuing, “is to get all the data that you can find in that research base.”

“It could be tricky, so I require everyone to stay low at first.” Nick cut off the presentation and gestured for them to open the files that he gave them.

Natasha looked down again at the file opened before her and saw a blurry image of two individuals - a man and a woman who looked like they were walking somewhere - they couldn’t really be identified as their backs were the ones shown in the photograph.

Natasha thinks that this must be what Tony was talking about before.

“I’m assuming that Tony has already filled you in but I will have to go into detail regarding these.”

With the agreement of others, Fury continued.

“As I have mentioned before, one SHIELD agent managed to infiltrate the base and was able to capture the image of these unidentified individuals. We have no information other than they were always escorted with HYDRA soldiers wherever they go inside the base which-.”

“Which could make them a threat.” Tony butt in.

“-which could possibly make them either a captive or an important member of their organization.” Fury narrowed his eyes towards Tony which effectively shut him up.

“It is not confirmed if they are hostile or not. And I advised you all NOT to engage unless needed.” Fury looked at each of them to stress on the importance of what he just said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“So…” Natasha pushed the briefing to continue. “Take the data and then the scepter? The scepter could be protected and might trip an alarm, so it’s better to be the last objective. Although, it could go either way.” She finished with a shrug.

“Up to all of you,” Fury replied after a while. “Now, remember, no sparks and fireworks. Unless it is deeply imperative. ”

“Understood.” Steve replied this time.

“Now gear up. All of you will be scheduled to leave in 3 hours. Good luck.”

After a while, Natasha found herself seated inside the quin jet with the others. Steve is currently discussing last-minute run-downs of the plan while the others nod off to acknowledge him.

“Alright, I’ll repeat the plan one last time to make sure that we are all on the same page okay? We have two objectives - which is to retrieve the scepter and take any HYDRA-related data we can get our hands on once we infiltrate the base.”

They quickly arrived at the location where the HYDRA base was and surprisingly, they managed to hide their arrival.

Once they had settled, everyone’s eyes were on Steve.

“Clint and Thor, you’re on surveillance. Both of you handle the outside, you’ll be our eyes. Nat, Tony, and Bruce you’re with me, we enter the building through the back and we split up for the objectives. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Rogers.” Natasha nodded in agreement.

2015. Novi Grad

April

WANDA

Wanda felt them, the Avengers,  even before they entered the base.

It’s probably for the best- she thinks.

With this, she could help them and make things easier for them.

She wasn’t sure how she should act once she meet them again but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to see them - especially Natasha whom she was the closest to out of all of them.

Wanda supposed she couldn’t be overtly friendly. She knows them. They’re not the type of people to trust so easily. Although, now she could redo how they meet. She could start fresh with them without their fear of her getting in the way. She would have the chance to be friends with them without the grudges and the loathing at the start.

It was weird to think of the same event as two separate moments. She had already gone through this. Lived through it, and yet here she is, once again about to meet the Avengers for the first time. Well, their first time anyway. She just hopes she wouldn’t fuck it up like she always does.

Wanda is currently in her room that she’s sharing with Pietro and she quickly stands up and makes herself ready while she nudges Pietro awake with her mind.

“They’re almost here Pietro, we have to get ready.”

“Out of all the days, they have to choose the day where Strucker personally watches us train our asses” Pietro muttered tiredly.

Wanda rolled her eyes at his antics while laughing lightly. “Stop complaining Pietro, you know that we have to help them.”

Pietro looked at her squarely before replying. “That’s what you know. You know, I’m still waiting for that explanation.” He stood up and quickly got ready in a blur.

Once done, he continued to look at her pointedly. “Wanda?” he whispered with a sigh as he made her way toward her, he held her hand to shake it lightly after, “Just because I trust you unconditionally and I wouldn’t question whatever you want us to do, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want to know why we’re doing it.”

Wanda sighed at his words because it was true. It’s unfair to him. But she’s still grateful that he’s still willing to help her through it all even if he doesn’t know what for.

Well, she guessed it was just a habit that she couldn’t get rid of. She survived living alone for so long that she didn’t realize what she was doing until he pointed it out.

And that thought hurt Wanda, because, throughout her life from before, Wanda lived with the loss of Pietro, thinking that she couldn’t make it without her brother. But looking back, she kinda did… was… able to live without him…

It kind of made her feel guilty in a sense. Which confused her because she shouldn’t focus on that now. Because Pietro is here with her. He’s not dead. He’s alive. He's real.

“I-I-” Wanda tried to look for the words but she couldn’t find any and it’s funny how desperate she is for words now, which is kind of pathetic in a sense.

Pietro squeezed her hand tightly and she was reminded of his presence.

“I’m so sorry Pietro,” Wanda started and bit back her tears, “I know that it’s unfair to you it’s just that… I’m worried that if I say it out loud, you might think that I’m crazy.”

Pietro gave him a nudge to her shoulder and wrapped her in his arms. She missed this in her past life. Him comforting her, always reminding her that he’s always with her through everything.

“We have powers that came from a rock Wanda, there’s nothing crazier than that. It’s safe to say that I’ll believe whatever you tell me.” Pietro tried to joke lightly while rubbing her back in comfort.

Wanda chuckled lightly at his poor attempt at a joke and tapped his shoulder lightly. Getting out of his embrace.

She breathed deeply and looked at him in the eye. When she saw nothing but complete trust towards her, it calmed her nerves enough to tell him everything.

“Would you believe me if I said that I came back from the future?”

“As in, time travel?” Pietro asked, his eyebrows raising, and understanding reflecting his face. Now that he thinks about it, it all made sense actually.

“Yes.” Her voice came out in a whisper.

“I’d say that that is really cool and I believe you.”

“Just like that?”

Pietro smiled at her and nodded. “Just like that.”

“But-”

Pietro flicked her temple lightly, which made her exclaim in surprise. “Stop overthinking and just accept it. I don’t need you to tell me everything, I won’t push for it. Just know that I’m here if you need to talk okay?”

His words made tears well up in her eyes again. “Thank you, Pietro.”

“Of course,” Pietro swiped the tears in her eyes and held her again in his arms. “What kind of older brother would I be if I don’t take care of you?”

“Only by twelve minutes.” Wanda chuckled with his words again, knowing it was to cheer her up.

“Doesn't change anything. And I will still always remind you of that fact.” Pietro then ruffled her hair which made her exclaim while trying to get out of his hold.

She admits that this feeling is nice. She never thought that she could live like this again - that she’d get to feel like the little sister again, who would always look for comfort from her older brother. And if she’s being honest with herself, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

2015. Hydra Base, Novi Grad

April

NATASHA

Natasha wasn’t sure of what was happening in this mission right now. Because it felt easy.

Too easy.

She almost thought that this was a trap.

But all the intel that they had is confirmed. The scepter is here, and all the HYDRA-related data that they needed to retrieve as well.

She’s still waiting for the rug to be pulled off of her if she’s being honest with herself. She couldn’t help it if it triggered alarms in her head but she hoped that it was just her paranoia and not a trap as she initially thought.

Tony was able to locate the Scepter without any problem - waiting on Natasha’s signal as she waited for the data she was retrieving to finish its download. Steve and Bruce are good to go on their side and they’re on their way to her to regroup.

Even Clint and Thor outside of the base mentioned earlier that they're clear.

This mission was fairly easy compared to what they initially thought.

But in hindsight, she shouldn’t have said anything else before they finished it. Because she’s pretty sure that she just jinxed the whole thing right after she said that.

While waiting for the data to download, Natasha is currently trying to break into some sort of vault that she’s trying to bypass. And for the life of her, she’s having a hard time opening it.

Natasha then heard a voice that immediately set off her nerves. Because nothing gets past her, but, surprisingly, this woman did.

“You should really watch your six, you know?”

Looking over her shoulder, she is immediately greeted to a sight of a brunette woman with bright green eyes, who, for someone who is in a sketchy underground research lab, looks completely at ease. She’s leaning against one of the tables in the room, her arms folded while giving her a small smile.

She almost looked… harmless.

Natasha shrugs as she looks at her warily. However, she couldn’t shake the familiar feeling of this woman which made her more cautious because she had never seen this woman before in her life.

Natasha looked at the files that she was still downloading and the vault that she was trying to break in before.

“Should I?” Natasha replied eventually with a raised eyebrow.

Surprisingly, it made the woman in front of her laugh lightly in amusement and replied immediately. “No, not with me.”

Natasha is completely lost. Because in all her years of experience, this is the first time that an individual (potentially hostile?) would have a friendly conversation with her while on a mission.

But still, this is a mission and she had to be prepared for the worst. Pretending to arrange her hair while still training her eyes toward the unknown brunette, she pressed her coms.

“Not to, you know, tell you to do your job, but aren't you going to try and stop me?”

When the others heard what she said in the coms, they were immediately alerted. She faintly heard Steve and Bruce announcing over the coms that they were nearby and to hold off. While Tony is now trying to figure out how to take the scepter.

She supposed she could be the bait.

To her surprise (again), the woman just shrugged and gave her an easy smile. Again with the smile. “Take everything for all I care, but you should probably hurry though. It looks like your friend just took the scepter.”

“There are no alarms. How are you supposed to know that he took it?” Feigning ignorance.

The woman just raised her eyebrows when the sirens of the alarm blared throughout the base.

“Shit. Damn it, Stark.” Taking out her gun, she prepared herself for a fight when the woman straightened herself.

It seemed that this woman wouldn’t run out of ways to surprise her tonight because when she expected a fight to break out now that all hell had broken loose, she just snapped her fingers and the vault that Natasha was initially trying to break into, suddenly opened after.

Is that what she thinks it is? Did she just see someone perform magic? What the f-

“There’s no use to be quiet now that the alarms are off.” The unknown brunette nodded at the open vault and urged her to take the files inside. “Take the files.”

Hearing that, Natasha looked at her in confusion, because why is this woman helping her? Them?

What she’s experiencing is completely surreal and it completely threw her off.

This is probably a trap.

She looked at the computer in front of her - how long will this thing take? When she looked back over the woman’s shoulder, she was relieved when she saw Steve and Bruce - who is now in his Hulk form sneaking from behind the woman.

“You know, I should be the one asking you those kinds of questions.” Engaging her in a conversation.

“Questions about what?” Curious green eyes trained at her sparking with interest, almost amused.

“Watching your six.”

Hulk and Steve suddenly lunged for the woman but again, to their surprise, they phased through her.

“Oh, I always do.” The woman nodded her head in amusement at them.

Hulk, not liking what just happened to him, tried to lunge at her again.

The unknown woman just simply shook her head and pointed a finger at him as if chiding a child.

“Not today, I think.”

After that, to everyone’s amazement (or horror, it depends on who you ask) Hulk is turned back into Bruce - which left him confounded - looking completely out of place.

"H-How'd you do that?" Bruce asked, bewildered.

Steve, always the one to shield others from supposed danger, steps up between them and the woman - whom they are starting to slowly realize, could be a threat if she decides to.

Because no one has ever managed to control the freaking Hulk - until now.

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks her.

Green eyes stared directly at her, and Natasha being Natasha, didn’t break eye contact. It almost unnerved her how it kind of felt that this woman could see through her. Almost.

“I’ve always loved the idea of not being what people expect me to be.”

When Natasha heard her words, it made her blink back in confusion, breaking their eye contact.

She didn’t say anything else after that and smiled to herself while she shrugged her shoulder - which Natasha found confusing - and it kind of irked her because this was the first person that she encountered that she couldn’t seem to read completely.

Everyone has their tells. But this woman apparently doesn’t.

“All the HYDRA base projects and the winter soldier program are inside that vault.” she replied instead, urgently now.

“Winter Soldier?” Steve asked in surprise.

Natasha faintly registered in the coms that Tony had secured the scepter and was outside of the base now.

“Yes.” She urged again “Take it and leave immediately. Strucker is on his way.”

Without further prompting, Natasha and Steve took everything that could be of use. They shouldn’t look a horse gift in the mouth.

Natasha was about to say something but she was again surprised by the sudden arrival of someone - who immediately went on the side of the woman that they were talking to. This night is beginning to be full of surprises.

“He’s almost here Wanda.” Natasha heard the man tell her as soon as he got to her side.

Wanda… It is a fitting name for her. Natasha stared at her thoughtfully.

A look of concern began to wash over Wanda’s face “I know Pietro…”

Still, it confuses Natasha on how expressive the woman is but she couldn’t get a read on her.

“What should we do?” Pietro asks Wanda.

“Go to Strucker, take him someplace else. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

With a blur, he zipped away again. Leaving the three of them with the woman they now identify as Wanda. Astonished by the unfolding events.

Because is it just her or did she just witness a guy make his way around in a flash?

She realizes this is the two unidentified individuals that Fury is talking about from before.

By the looks of it, they are important enough to misdirect Strucker, but she couldn’t classify them as hostile as well.

“You should leave.” Wanda turned to them fully in all seriousness. Face devoid of the easy smile she’s shown to her earlier. “Strucker is on his way to initiate the base to self-destruct. His soldiers will intercept you in all possible exits on the ground. Your best option is to escape through the roof.”

Still, she couldn’t trust her enough just by that.

“How should we know that we could trust you?” Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“It’s up to you.” Wanda shrugged as if she expected her response and was not at all surprised that she wouldn’t trust her easily, before turning her back towards them and began to make her way out of the room. “I’ll buy you some time.”

“Wait,” Steve called out to her hesitantly.

“The winter soldier. Was he here?”

Wanda turned to him smiled sadly and nodded. “He was here about a month ago, haven't seen him since.”

“Now go!”

At her urging, Natasha, Steve, and Bruce quickly made their way to the rooftop. Steve, informed the others to meet them there for extract once Clint and Thor confirmed that it was clear.

As they headed up, Natasha turned her head back again to look at the mysterious woman they just met.

Well, who can blame her? Looking over her shoulder has always been her second nature.

Again, she’s surprised to see her looking back, somber green eyes trained directly at her.

WANDA

As Wanda watched them leave, she couldn’t help but feel bittersweet. Towards Natasha mostly. She doesn’t know what to feel. She’s happy that she’s finally able to see her friends but at the same time, they don’t know her.

But still, she’s comforted with the fact that Natasha is still alive. And if she has her way, she’ll make sure it stays that way.

Once they’re out of her sight, Wanda quickly lets go of her magic now that she doesn’t have to hide from her… friends? Or acquaintances? She's kind of glad that she could hide the telltale signs of her scarlet magic now. The collective thud of unconscious bodies dropping to the ground greeted her as she quickly made her way toward where she knew Strucker was.

‘Јебига, Wanda! I’m hit!’ Pietro called out to her which made her panic. [Serbian/Sokovian: Fuck, Wanda!]

‘What?! How?!’ Wanda quickly reached out her mind to track him. Once she found where he was, she quickly made her way towards him. Using her powers as a boost to make herself faster.

“Ah, you wound me Wanda. Both of you had progressed more than I thought.”  When she arrived, she found Strucker with a revolver in his hand, standing over Pietro whose legs were bleeding. “Are you ever going to tell me about this? We have 10 minutes left until this place explodes. Pick him up and let’s get out of here. I’ll think of your punishment after this.”

‘I’m sorry Wanda, I- I-’ Pietro started to tell her through their link. ‘I didn’t think that he would notice. I got careless. But I’ll be okay, once we take out the bullets. It’s just hard to run for now…’ Pietro lost his consciousness right after.

Shaking in anger, Wanda waved her hand towards Strucker, quickly disarming and levitating him towards her - his hands and feet bound.

“How dare you hurt him.” Wanda looked at him directly in the eyes. Scarlet haze overtaking the color of her green eyes.

Strucker was always known to be… calm. In the past, even through his fit of rage, it would be rare to see him in a burst of violent anger.

But right now, he seems more like a rampant animal, foaming at the mouth in anger, struggling to set himself free. He looked pathetic. “You betrayed me! You and him! After all that I did for you? I raised you!”

“And you think that excuses you from shooting him?” Wanda laughed wryly, “Raised us? To be your personal soldier maybe.” She raised her hand toward him as if she was about to squeeze him to a pulp.

“I cared for you-” He bellowed through gritted teeth. He let out a loud scream in agony before she stopped. “I saved you!”

“From what? Stop fooling yourself Strucker. You and I both know that none of that was true.” Wanda’s words were laced with contempt in anger.

Strucker spat out blood at her feet, “You are nothing without the powers that I gave you.”

Wanda dropped him abruptly to the ground with a loud thud, making him grunt in pain.

“Nothing?” She walked towards him as he kneeled out on the cold ground. “I don’t need these powers to kill you. And you certainly didn’t give it to me.”

She took the gun that he used on Pietro and pointed it at him. Wanda glanced at him and relished in the way his eyes changed from anger to fear.

“What? Did you just realize that you can’t control me?” Wanda clicked the revolver to reload the barrel and aimed again between his eyes. “Never pegged you to be this slow.”

“Go on then.” Strucker challenged, nudging the gun with his forehead. “Shoot me. It will be proof that I raised you perfectly.”

Her hands shake as she realizes his words.

When she paused, Strucker bellowed out a laugh. Smiling up at her as blood trickled out of his lips. “Face it, Wanda. You and I are so much alike than you think.”

Because it is true - was true?

Back in her old life, somewhere along the way, she did end up becoming evil.

No. No. No. She’s not evil. She’s not…

“No,” Wanda shook her head in denial of his words, “I don’t need you to tell me who I am.”

 Wanda suddenly pressed the trigger of the gun after.

Strucker flinched in surprise, because he didn’t expect that she would actually do it.

Instead of a loud bang, the gun emitted a soft click. Signifying that its barrels are empty.

Wanda let out a wry laugh as she opened her other hand, letting the bullets fall to the ground. “Your psychological trauma tactics won’t work on me Strucker. Not anymore.”

“Hurts, when you’re on the receiving end don’t you think?”

Wanda looked at him in the eye, then began to take control of him.

She tells herself that he deserves this. Compared to what he has done, this wouldn’t even compare,  but she knows that she shouldn’t go overboard. And in the grand scheme of things, she knew that destroying this base was for the better. With this, she’ll ensure that Ultron won’t set up his base in Sokovia.

Under her control, she spoke a command in his mind. Fitting for a man like him. She instructed him to sit in his office and just… wait…

Wait and see for himself the destruction of the things he put his effort into.

Once doing so, he began doing the things that he was ordered to do. Like a puppet on her strings, just like she intends to.

Wanda went towards Pietro, who was still unconscious. She waved her hand over him and took the bullets from his legs. Seeing that his wounds were slowly healing up, she hovered her hands again towards the bullet wound and let her magic flow through her.

Once done, his legs are devoid of the wound. Lifting him, Wanda raised one of his arms over her shoulders to carry him, using her magic to assist her in carrying him.

Once she felt that he was comfortable, she began to get out of this place.

As they got out of the base, the explosion behind them could be heard. Debris narrowly missing them if not for Wanda’s force field shielding the two of them.

Looking back at the ruins of the prison that she had lived in, she finally let herself breathe easily. This signifies a chapter of her life that she fully intends to close and never look back on.

Chapter Text

2015. Avengers Tower, New York

April

NATASHA

After their… bizarre mission, Natasha and the others have agreed to go on a meeting for a debrief and discussion of the Intel that they acquired the day after. They had JARVIS go through every file that they were able to get to sift it for them the night before so that they could easily go through the points and talk about it.

They all decided to take the night off and the morning after as a reward for the fairly easy mission they had.

For the others, they did their own thing.

Clint took an early night off and went back to his room, saying that this was a rare opportunity to take a rest. Steve and Bruce agreed and did the same.

Thor decides to go off-world for a bit, wanting to check on things in Asgard and states that he'll be back the next day.

Unlike them, Tony went right back to his lab with the scepter, along with a promise to Thor that he would give it back to him after three days (to give him enough time to study it) so he could take it back to Asgard.

And her, well, she couldn’t really sleep even if she tried. If she’s being honest, she couldn’t really get her mind off the woman who helped them. It irks her to not know why she helped them.

Maybe it is just an occupational hazard. She’s a spy, she’s supposed to gather Intel and know things. Or maybe she was just being paranoid, but still, it left her wondering what her motive was.

Because what’s in it for her? Because who would help out someone without any reason?

Looking at the clock and seeing that it’s already two in the morning, she deduced that she won’t have any sleep in trying to figure the woman out so she decided to just go to the labs to the other person she knows will surely still be wide awake.

When she arrived at the lab, she found Tony looking at the scepter in deep focus.

“You planning on being a wizard or what?” Natasha joked lightly to announce herself.

“Eh, not really my style.” Tony looked at Natasha over his notes and gave her a lopsided smile. “I prefer the comfort of quantum physics.”

Natasha liked this. She liked not having to explain herself to Tony why she was here in the middle of the night and not do what normal people do - which is sleep.

“Found anything interesting?” She walked further towards him and looked over the notes.

“Could be, but I still need to look into it further,” Tony mumbled, avoiding her eyes.

Natasha noticed how he became jumpy and decided not to push it. For now.

“Never thought I’d see this again after what happened in the city.” She said as she seated herself in a chair nearby.

“Yeah, no shit Red, thought I had actually seen the last of this,” Tony replied, staring intensely at the scepter.

“Well, it’s a good thing that Thor will bring it back to Asgard then.” Natasha pushed subtly, eyes narrowing for a bit.

Tony, for a moment, went silent. And Natasha just let him be. She figured that she wouldn’t really get any insight into why he was acting suspiciously. She just chalked it to Tony being himself as always.

After a while, she heard Tony talk to her. Tony began to type on his tablet, avoiding her eyes.

“I have a question.”

“Hit me with it.” Natasha leaned back on her chair, making herself comfortable.

“Did you ever think about you know-” Tony gestured his hand around, trying to find the right word, “-giving up all this…” He trailed off.

Confused, Natasha shifted in her seat and raised one of her eyebrows. “What do you mean by giving up?”

This is a first. Tony opening up to her.

“I meant retirement Red,” Tony rolled his eyes in faux exasperation and continued, “-not that kind, I meant hanging up the sword, putting up the gauntlet, whatever similar thing that you prefer.” He emphasized.

She chuckled for a moment and sent him a smirk of her own. Only he will take her morbid joke and set it aside easily. If she asked that to the others, she’s sure that they would insist on her getting therapy.

Natasha thought about his question for a while, pondering intently.

If she’s being honest, she would probably be okay with it - retiring - she would if she had any choice about it. But whenever she looks back and thinks about her past, somewhere deep in her mind, she always thinks, that what she did to compensate for everything that she had done is still not enough. It will never be.

And if she’s not a widow or an avenger, what will her place in this world be?

So, his question is difficult to answer for her. For a change, she’s the one who is out of words in his presence. But she wouldn’t let him know about that though.

Her thoughts were then interrupted by Tony, letting her know what he thinks regarding his question earlier.

“I’ve thought about it you know.”

Natasha looked over to him and found him settling on his chair as well, opting to pause his research on the scepter.

“Giving up the Iron suit, I mean.” He let out a sigh after he told her that. “Did I ever tell you that Pepper almost broke up with me one time because of it?”

Natasha looked over at him in surprise. “Pepper? The woman who had immaculate patience when it came to you?”

Tony laughed lightly, “Yes, I know. I guess I pushed her limits.” He shrugs.

Silence filled the lab after that. With Natasha and Tony just basking on it easily.

After a while, Natasha finally replied to his question.

“I guess I haven't thought about it. Retiring, I mean,” Natasha looked over at him and shrugged noncommittally. “-I always thought that it wouldn’t be my case, you know? I always thought that I would…”

Die on duty. Natasha trailed off after she thought of it, catching herself. She’s getting emotional over this and it is bleeding over her words.

She hoped Tony wouldn’t catch her slip. She looked at the clock and found that it was already five in the morning, she’s surprised that three hours had gone by already while she was conversing with Tony.

“Why do you ask?” Natasha asked him this time. Genuinely curious as to why he asked her that question.

Tony looked over at the scepter again, his eyes a bit erratic. Natasha chalked it to him not having enough sleep. “Sometimes, I still think about that battle that we had right in the heart of this city.”

Natasha already knows what he’s talking about.

And honestly, who wouldn’t?

2015. Novi Grad

April

WANDA

“Do you reckon that they’ll come back for us?”

Wanda heard Pietro ask her as they slowly made their way from the wreckage of the base. They’re already on the outskirts of the city, a long way from where they left. They took their time walking instead of using their powers as they didn’t have any plan on what to do afterward.

“Who?” Wanda looked at him as she asked, shifting her hand to his waist as she held him up as he leaned against her for support.

“I don’t know.” Pietro shrugged, “HYDRA? The Avengers? It could be either of the two.”

“Why would you think that the Avengers will come back for us?” Wanda asked curiously.

“Just a gut feeling.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good… I think?” Pietro stopped his walk and turned to look at Wanda. “I just think that it wouldn’t be that simple. Plus, you haven’t introduced yourself to them. It should be enough to catch their interest.”

“Never mind them-” Wanda shook her head, ignoring Pietro’s question. She doesn’t know what to think in regards to her old teammates… “-and with HYDRA, I don’t think we should worry that much anymore. At least for now… their main operative base is in shambles. We helped the Avengers in taking all their info, they’ll take care of the rest. I think that counts as a win.”

“You don’t want to help them?” Pietro continued, undeterred, holding her gaze.

Wanda looked away, avoiding his question. She then noticed that they were almost near the edge of town.

“I-” Wanda shook her head. “-we should look for a place to stay.” She told Pietro instead, effectively ignoring his question. “Can you walk on your own now?”

Pietro looked at her for a while before replying. “Yes… Should we check the shelters in the city?”

“We probably should.” Wanda quietly replied as they continued their trek towards the city, not hearing what Pietro said.

Wanda knows that she’s deflecting again, but she’s completely clueless about what to do.

Is it wrong to try and find some sort of normalcy in her life? She doesn’t owe anyone anything. What did they do to help her anyway?

When Pietro, Vision, and Natasha… died… she was left with no one.

Well, anyone that mattered to her anyway.

Steve went back in time without telling anyone when he returned the infinity stones and got to live his dream life while Clint isolated himself and didn’t talk with anyone else.

Which leads her back to where she was before.

Alone.

She couldn’t fault them. Really. She’s just bitter whenever she thinks about it. Clint is grieving, he saw his friend die. She understands that the most than the others. But… she’s grieving too…

And Steve, well, She would probably do what Steve did too if she had the chance.

Hell, she’s even doing it right now.

And now, she got a chance in her life where she could walk away from all of it. To not go through all of that pain again…

To not get involved and make everything worse. Because that’s what she is. That’s what she always did.

When she messed with the minds of the Avengers by digging into their worst memories and turning them into a nightmare - which made Hulk go on a rampage somewhere in South Africa, painting a bad light on them.  The time when her hatred towards Stark got them to help Ultron to the point that her own country was wiped out from the map - and at the same time, losing Pietro… by getting killed because they wanted to atone for the things that they did.

Then Lagos happened, even when she’s trying to do good, in memory of her brother back then, she still manages to fuck things up.

And she made everything worse with what she did in Westview, and it all came spiraling down, she supposed she was too far gone already at that time, making it easier for the Darkhold to control her.

So yes, is it wrong to not want to do anything else? Everything she touches turns into a shit show.

Well, she can say everything she wants to justify herself on not joining them, but the truth is…

No matter how much of what she says to make an excuse, if she’s being honest, it is because of the simple fact that she feels guilty…

She’s a mess and She doesn’t deserve to be an Avenger. From what she did back then, and to what she let happen last night.

And to add to that, she’s conflicted.

She got her brother back and she doesn’t want to risk putting him in danger again because she knows what will happen after.

It eats her insides that she just let Stark take the scepter - knowing that at the end of it, she’ll get Vision back.

Ignoring the crucial part that Ultron will be created as well.

She supposes this is the woe of knowing what is to come and just letting it happen. She’s selfish, she knows this already. But her life has always been dictated by loss, isn't that enough reason for her?

Why should she not indulge in her selfishness when others did it too?

And in her defense, she’s not the one who created Ultron. So, she’s not the one that should be blamed.

But then again, she just let it happen. Doesn’t that make it worse?

And that makes her blame herself.

It’s a vicious cycle, really. Well, she knows that no one really is blaming her and it's just her mind messing with her. She realizes at that moment the magnitude of everything that she can do now that she has knowledge of the future.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda pulled herself from her thoughts before she spiraled further. When she looked up, she realized that it was already breaking dawn and Pietro took care of everything and they were already in the shelter for the homeless. No one really asks many questions when it comes to these kinds of things. In their country torn by war, many come and go in shelters like these.

She supposed she could conjure a house or a place to stay but it wouldn’t really do them any good.  In a city of a war-torn country, it would only invite bad things to happen to them. It’s probably safer to be in one anyway. If she plans to hide from them - but she wouldn’t really count on it. She knows what they’re capable of. If they wanted to track someone they could easily do so. But it could buy herself some time to think about all of this…

2015. New York

April

NATASHA

That afternoon, Natasha is one of the first to arrive in the meeting room. There, she sees Tony, Steve, and Maria reading over the files that they collected. With a nod of greeting, she walked over to them and decided to look over some of it as well while she waited.

It didn’t take a while for the others to arrive (aside from Thor) and start the meeting.

After discussing all the HYDRA-related data that JARVIS had sifted through, Fury moved the discussion to another topic.

Wanda and Pietro.

Which Natasha thinks is great actually, because this is the part that she’s heavily interested in. She didn’t know how long she could keep up her poker face with Fury droning on and on about whatever was being projected by JARVIS.

“So, what do you think of them?” Fury asked them.

“For what?” Clint asked, curious.

Tony stood up from his seat and stretched himself. “Are you planning on adding new members to our not so super secret anymore boy band?”

“Maybe…” Fury shrugs noncommittally, “or maybe not. I would have to speak with them first.”

“If it’s you doing the talking, I would think that they will for sure.” Steve added.

“Wait, you’re just gonna invite them like that?” Bruce asked. “Not to be the, you know, negative one in the group, but they’re ex-HYDRA guys.”

Natasha got annoyed at his words but she didn’t show it. Well, his concern is valid, but she couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how insensitive his words are. Because she also was the one who worked on the other side first. Ex-KBG and all that…

Besides, they didn’t even do anything against them. In fact, they helped them in their mission last night.

She realized then that she was getting too worked up over this. She shouldn’t let this take control of her.

In an attempt to get the conversation out of her head, she looked again at Wanda’s files in front of her. The data starts when she’s 16 years old, after volunteering (kidnapped, most likely) from an orphanage. There’s not really much personal information except data for the experiments done on her and the progress.

And of course, the training that she went through. She realized then as she went through all the training in detail that she was being trained as a soldier.

A weapon.

Natasha couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. Upon seeing their file, she couldn’t help but resonate with their experience. Because their experiences are similar to hers. And thinking back on the woman with bright green eyes and her impressions of her- and then comparing it to their data, she couldn’t fathom why someone would come out of that gently.

She knows that she didn’t.

“Are you really skeptical of them?” Steve asked and shifted in his seat to face Bruce before continuing. “Or are you just afraid of the woman who easily subdued the Hulk?”

Bruce looked at him first before letting out a sigh. “I’m not scared. I’m just uncomfortable.”

“Nat? How about you?” Clint prompted her, his eyebrows furrowed. Of course, he’s the one who would notice.

“Well, I think they could be an asset to the team.” Natasha didn’t offer any other explanation and just left it at that.

In her mind, she genuinely thinks that it is true. Well, Wanda was able to control the Hulk, and that’s enough for her. If she’s being honest with everyone here, that would really come in handy.

Not that she doesn’t trust Bruce, but he does always have the possibility of going on a rampage. He said so himself. It would be an advantage if they had someone on their team who would keep him in check.

Well, Tony has a suit designed in case that happens, so she’s not the only one who thought of that. But she’s sure that compared to what Wanda did, it would be messy.

And well, Natasha admits that she’s quite curious about what else the twins can do.

“Well, let’s hope that their asses join this group then.” Nick told them after a brief moment.

Thor arrived much later, stating that he got held up with something, although not divulging anything. When he was asked about it, he stated not to worry about it - citing that he just talked to Loki.

“About time Point Break,” Tony stood up from his seat and opted to sit at the table as he greeted him. “I almost thought that you’d never show up. I have a party later in the evening so all of you better not miss it.” he announced while looking at the others, most especially Natasha. He knew that she would pass on it if given the chance.

Natasha rolled her eyes and sighed, “As long as there’s vodka, sure, I’ll be there. I’ll be needing that if I’m gonna have to attend your party.”

“Ah, living up to the Russian spirit aren’t we Red?” Tony smirked at her, a bit proud of the pun he just made.

“Don’t test me Stark.” Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.

Natasha collapsed on her bed and breathed a sigh of relief. The ache all over her body due to the intense training that she did to make up for her easy morning catching up to her. Well, if anything, she thinks it would be better. She supposed tiring herself out would help her sleep immediately.

Earlier, Natasha had tried to convince herself to get her mind off of things… she couldn’t help that seeing Wanda and Pietro’s data brought back some unpleasant memories that she would like to forget. She also can’t help it but her heart aches for them. Because she knows how it felt. To be helpless and afraid that there isn't much choice of what to do except to obey.

She knows that she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t do something about it. So she did what she did best. If only to get her mind off of it.

She was about to doze off when she heard JARVIS notifying her that she got a call from Tony. She sighed as she let the call go through.

“Are you seriously laying in your bed when I have a full-on party happening right now?”

“How sure are you that I’m laying in my bed?”

“JARVIS told me that you’re in your room. What else will you do besides that?”

Natasha could think of a bunch of responses to hide her emotions. Joking quips and innuendos to hide her emotional state. But instead, she settled and just let him be.

“What do you want?” Natasha asked, not having the mental energy to get out of her bed now that she settled in.

“Uh, Did you not hear what I just told you Red? I have a party and you’re supposed to be here.”

Feeling an onset of migraine from Tony’s nagging, she decides to finally get ready and prepare for the party.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” Natasha finally replied in exasperation.

Looking back, Natasha should have just stayed in her bed. Because compared to their mission the night before, and the easy afternoon that they had today, this night is turning into the complete opposite of it.

When she got into the party, it didn’t even take long for it to get interrupted by Tony’s robots attacking them.

Well, now they have another enemy apparently. And to add to that, the scepter was taken by said enemy.

Hell, she hadn't even sipped her vodka yet.

They had just finished fighting the last of the robots and were reprimanding Tony and Bruce about what they did.

“Why would you even come up with this?” Steve disappointingly asks the two of them.

Tony looking up from the couch that he’s sitting on, defended himself. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s as if we just didn’t experience an alien invasion a few years ago.”

“We needed to take precautions in case we are attacked again.” Bruce added.

Well, Natasha supposes that they are right. But she’s sure that Tony’s reasoning is much more than that.

“Look, I know you both had good intentions but it doesn’t matter now,” Clint told them with a sigh before continuing. “Right now, it is imperative to stop this thing.”

“And that’s precisely what we’re gonna do.” Nick interjected with Maria in tow.

Maria, with a laptop in hand, began typing on it as she addressed the others. “Well, it looks like you’re in luck. We can track Ultron by modifying his initial program and creating a new one. It might take some time though.”

With a sigh, Tony replied. “Fine. Besides, we don’t know his next course of action. So we have plenty or few.”

“I could help too.” Bruce mumbled with guilt as he took a seat nearby and began working.

They worked in silence before Nick called the others’ attention again. “Well, while the others are busy with the programming, why don’t we talk about our prospects.”

Thor whose been sitting quietly up until now asked. “What prospect?”

“He’s planning on offering the two enhanced Natasha and the others encountered last night a spot in the team.” Clint explained briefly, remembering that he missed half of their meeting discussion earlier.

“Oh, what’s their thing?” Thor asks promptly after. Looking between Natasha and Clint.

Natasha didn’t offer any explanation and just looked over at Fury - which made Thor look at him as well,  prompting him to explain.

“Well, looking at their data,” Nick started, “It looked like they have enhanced speed and telekinetic ability. But we’re not sure as well, as there’s little data in regards to their power. And judging from Bruce’s experience with Wanda, I’d bet on it that there’s more to it than that.”

“To me, it sounds like Wanda is a witch.” Clint announced to everyone.

“A witch?” Natasha asked, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I thought you don’t believe in those.”

Clint was about to explain his answer but Thor beat him to it.

“My mother was raised by witches.”

Upon hearing Thor’s words, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. Not quite believing what he just said.

“Did you just say that witches are real?” Clint asked him in disbelief.

“I am quite sure that what I said was my mother was raised by a bunch of witches...” Thor slowly trailed off, a bit unsure due to everyone’s attention. “Are they not real in your world?”

“You know what, I don’t know as well Thor,” Natasha answered for him this time. “Hell, they probably are and just hid or whatever because they were hunted back in the day.” Natasha turned to Steve and asked, “You know anything, Cap?”

Steve let out a small laugh and shrugged. “No, not really. And you think of me as if I was alive at that time.”

“Well, you’re the oldest person that I know.” Natasha quipped.

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed, not taking any offense. “What about Thor?”

“Thor doesn’t count,” Natasha replied. “He’s a God.”

“Guys, you all don’t get it. This changes my whole life.” Clint insisted.

“You have fought with aliens, there’s a literal god beside you and you still think that not everything is impossible?” Natasha asked him in amusement.

“Oh, what else can they do?” Thor asked in interest, shifting forward in his seat.

“Her brother is fast, and we couldn’t even track him if we tried,” Clint answered again. “Other than that, we don’t know much apart from Natasha and the other’s encounter with them last night.”

“I’m quite curious if she is really a witch, now that you mentioned it,” Thor replied after a while. “They’re an interesting bunch for sure.”

“I’ve read that they were also injected with HYDRA’s version of the serum.” Steve informed Thor this time while glancing at Natasha.

She didn’t react to that. Well, she could understand him trying to get a read on her. Because aside from Steve, Natasha was the only other person who was injected with the serum as well. Although in very different circumstances.

“I’m sure you don’t want to just talk about them,” Natasha told Nick to push the topic forward. “What do you need?”

“And that’s precisely why I like you Romanoff.” Fury produced a folder for them to look at. It contains the Twins’ last whereabouts. “Always focused on the next thing to do.”

“You’re just waiting for me to say something aren’t you?” Natasha rolled his eyes at him.

From the other side of the room, Tony called over to them. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to be part of that conversation as well?”

“Get back to your work Stark, I’m dividing the tasks now.” Nick waved him off and continued talking to Natasha and the others.

“You want us to do what exactly?” Clint shifted his seat closer in interest.

“Well, I need you and Romanoff to scout the area. Look for them, and possibly ask them to join the team.”

“I thought that it would be your job?” Natasha questioned, her eyebrows raised. She doesn’t have any qualms about it. But sometimes, she liked messing with him.

“This is just on the chance that you encounter them. It won’t hurt if you try. Besides, I also want you to check on the base in the aftermath of the explosion. See if there’s anything else-”

Before he could continue, Tony interrupted him again, with a valid reason this time.

“We’ve run the program and tracked Junior’s whereabouts. It looked like he was on his way to… Sokovia? Novi Grad specifically. But here’s the thing, there’s also a signal that he’s emitting on the way to South Africa.”

Tony projected the data that he got in the room as he talked. “For what, that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“I would need to speak with someone in Asgard regarding this.” Thor stood up after hearing Tony. “I will also need to tell them what happened with the scepter.”

Nick then took over the conversation again. “Well then, I guess we know what we’ll be doing.”

Everyone stood up as he listed out orders.

“Barton, Romanoff, prepare to head for Sokovia. Scope out the base and also check if the Twins are around. Steve, Tony, and Bruce, head to South Africa to track the other signal.”

2015. Novi Grad

April

WANDA

Two days have passed already since they got out of HYDRA’s base. Two days already but Pietro is still on about his incessant question why Wanda won’t join them.

They’re currently in the kitchen of the shelter that they’re staying in and Wanda is busy preparing food for everyone in the shelter - with her magic of course - while Pietro is helping her as well. Pietro and Wanda kind of took over the kitchen. No one knows of course that she’s using her magic aside from Pietro.

But they didn’t question it when they began to supply them food without fail.

“No matter what you say that I should do it, I will not do it Pietro.” Wanda told her brother for the nth time already in exasperation.

“I just don’t get it, Wanda. You told me that you were with them and fought bad guys before. Why don’t you want to do it now?” Pietro asks her, confusion written all over his face.

“Because I said so.” Wanda firmly replied, she turned off the fire and looked at him pointedly. She nodded at the beef stroganoff that she had just finished cooking, silently asking him to taste it. When Pietro walked over, she evaded him again, by going through the oven and taking out the Phirozhki.

“This is good Wanda,” Pietro told her after tasting what they cooked. “Should we call everyone? -  and also you can’t run away forever Сестро.” [Serbian/Sokovian: “Sister.”].

“Yes, call for everyone please,” Wanda ignored him and just took the food and set it up in the dining table. “I just can’t do it again Pietro.”

Wanda then looked over at him, while he was ringing the bell that signals the others that there’s food ready in the kitchen.

“Why do you insist on us being a superhero anyway?” Wanda asked her brother, emphasizing the wording.

Pietro was silent for a bit before he replied to her. “Because then, I would know what my purpose is.”

“What do you mean?”

“All our lives, we lived in a prison. We were trained to be a soldier. A weapon.” Pietro shifted closer to her as others piled over to get some food. “Now that we’re free from it. I don’t know what to do. The cage is all I know Wanda.”

Sensing the gravity of their conversation, Wanda took Pietro away from the kitchen and sat him on one of the benches outside the shelter.

“We could try doing other things? You know, we learned many languages. You can try and teach them. Or you can study? It’s just I can’t Piet-” She replied shakily, her thoughts filling her brain with the image of his body filled with bullets. Wanda took hold of Pietro’s hand and squeezed it, to calm herself down and rid herself of her thoughts. “Pietro… please understand… I- I just don’t want to do it anymore.”

“But why is it that I can’t do it too?” Pietro asked her, his words laced with bitterness.

“Because it’s too dangerous Pietro.” Wanda told him with a straight face. She blinked and turned her gaze away from him, trying to keep herself grounded.

Pietro replied immediately, undeterred. “That is always a risk Wanda. Can’t you understand? We have this power but you wouldn’t-”

“Enough, Pietro.” Wanda stood up abruptly, scarlet haze coloring her iris for a moment. “We are not doing it and that’s final.” She finished telling him with her jaw clenched.

Before he could say anything else, she walked away from him.

She could understand him wanting to be this way. Hell, this is the same reason why Ultron easily roped them to help him in her last life. With his promises of changing the world for the better, amplifying their contempt towards Stark and weaponizing it.

But, he died. He died because of all this…

And Wanda won’t forgive herself if he did so again.

She did tell him that she came back from the future but she’s so scared of telling him anything else. That it might cause something that she doesn’t want to deal with. Curse Stephen Strange and his voice of reason making her even more paranoid at this time.

Wanda knows that she’s being unfair. But in her defense, she has to be for his sake. He just doesn’t understand.

And she doesn’t know how to make him understand.

So, she walked. Wanda just walked and walked away from him that she ended up in the park in the middle of the city, which is pretty far from the shelter that they’re staying in.

She realized then that the sun was setting down and it was getting colder. She didn’t realize that hours had gone by while she walked. As if on cue, she shivered as the cold wind breeze past her.

Well, she supposed she could conjure for herself a jacket to don over her black dress but she promised herself that she wouldn’t use it unless it was for others. She had been selfish enough, she couldn’t afford to be more.

“You should probably head back you know? Your brother must be looking for you.”

She was broken out of her thoughts when she heard a voice that she never thought would hear again, especially in a place like her city.

She found Natasha sitting on a bench near where she stood. Her eyes are closed as she basks in the slowly fading light of the sunset, her hands on her jacket while leaning back on the park bench, with her legs crossed.

Wanda stood dumbly in the middle of the pavement. She couldn’t help but admire Natasha as the afterglow of the last of the sunset illuminated her face perfectly.

Wanda thinks that she looked…

Ethereal.

A big part of her thought for herself, but she immediately silenced that thought and looked for a more proper… word…

She… just… looked…

Comfortable. Yes. Comfortable…

“Natalia?” Blinking back her surprise at seeing her, she accidentally called out her name - her real name - which was a big mistake because they hadn’t even introduced themselves to each other. She shouldn’t know who she is.

Natasha opened her eyes and raised one of her eyebrows, but didn’t comment on it. She just gave her one of her infamous smirks and waited for her to talk.

The street light beside the bench that Natasha’s sitting on suddenly lit up and illuminated her, making Wanda keep her focus on her.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda asks, her eyebrows furrowed. She wanted to walk over to her, sit next to her, hold her hand, and bask in her presence but she stopped herself. Natasha doesn’t even know her. It would surely weird her out if she did that. Shifting on her feet for a bit, she walked over and stopped a few steps away in front of Natasha.

“You seem upset.” Natasha straightened herself from the bench and patted the space beside her, silently offering Wanda a seat.

Taking the silent invitation, Wanda sat herself close to Natasha. She couldn’t think of any response because she was still surprised by seeing her.

“You look different from when I saw you last.” Wanda let out a whisper after a while as she turned to look at Natasha intently. Her words are hidden with double entendre.

Well, Wanda couldn’t help it, it's just that... the last time that she saw Natasha - no, not on that mission two nights before - the last time that she really saw Natasha was in their battle in Wakanda when Wanda made a hard decision to leave Vision’s side to save her from those giant machines that were about to crush her and Okoye. Then Natasha saved her in turn right after when she was fighting Proxima Midnight.

She had blonde hair then, her hair shorter than it is now.

Looking back at her, Wanda couldn’t help but give her a small smile. She likes her red hair more.

“I’m not much different from two days ago, but sure.” Natasha replied easily.

She noticed Natasha’s eyes narrowing for a second then it was gone after. If she didn’t know Natasha, she probably wouldn’t notice that, but she does so she knows Natasha is thinking of something that she wants to ask but is unsure. She doesn’t need to use her powers to read minds when it comes to her.

She’s probably curious and wants me to answer her question earlier. “My brother and I had a brief spat.”

“Well…” Natasha paused, clearly pondering over her words before she replied - making Wanda look down at her. She probably shouldn’t be distracted but Wanda realizes that Natasha is a bit shorter than her… She wonders why she didn’t notice it before.

Seeing her amused smile, she heard Natasha asking her.

“But you don’t seem upset now?” She asks in confusion. “Your emotions are all over the place, Wanda.”

“I know.” Her reply to Natasha’s words, again, with a double meaning as well. She stared down at Natasha and continued.

“I’m sorry but I just realized that you look cute at this angle.” Wanda held up her thumb and index finger in a pinch and gave her a toothy grin. “You look so tiny.”

Natasha for her part, just blinked back at her in astonishment, eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

She realizes that she probably shouldn’t act like she’s close to her. But well, she can’t help but fall back on her old habits.

What? Is It wrong to want to get close to her old best friend again?

“Why are you here?” Wanda asks after a while, clearing her throat as she shifts away a bit from Natasha, giving her space.

“Well, among other things…” Natasha turned to her left, looking away from Wanda before continuing, “Fury wanted to know if you wanted to join us.”

Upon hearing her words, she sobered up immediately. Reminding her why she walked out on Pietro in the first place.

“What do you think?” Wanda asked quietly, still looking at Natasha.

Natasha turned back to her and looked directly into her eyes, piercing Wanda with its intensity. “I think that it’s your call and no one has a say in it.”

Wanda blinked back at her and asked softly, “And what if I’m the one stopping Pietro?”

“What do you mean?”

“I- I…” Wanda trailed off. She can’t say it. She wouldn’t understand. “I should probably head back. I think you know my answer.” Wanda suddenly stood up from the bench, not wanting to see Natasha’s reaction.

“I’m sure you have a reason.” She heard Natasha before Wanda could make her way further away from her. “I won’t push you because it’s your decision to make. But you should talk to your brother about all of this.”

“Goodbye, Natalia.” Wanda didn’t say anything else after that and began to walk away from her.

She doesn’t know why, but every step that she took away from her felt heavier than the last.

When Wanda managed to drag her feet through the city and came back to the shelter, she found Pietro waiting outside.

“Wanda! Where have you been? I was so worried.” Pietro ran to her quickly in a flash when he felt her near.

Wanda quietly just let him hug her, not knowing what to say or think anymore.

Is what she’s doing wrong? All she ever wanted was for Pietro to be safe. But why does it feel like everything is still going wrong?

“Wanda?” Pietro tried to call for her again.

Getting out of his embrace, Wanda just gave him a tired smile. “I should probably go to sleep. I need to prepare for everyone’s breakfast early tomorrow.”

The morning after, Wanda had just finished preparing for breakfast and was making her way around to set the food on the dining table.

Wanda had just sat in one of the chairs in the back garden while she sipped on her tea when she felt Pietro sitting next to her. Both of them just sat in silence. Not knowing what to say to each other.

Pietro was about to speak out to her, but they were then interrupted by someone that Wanda had dreaded to come.

“Would it be fine if I interrupt you two of your conversation?”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up when she heard of that emotionless robotic voice that she wouldn’t ever forget.

Ultron.

She hoped that he wouldn’t look for them since the HYDRA base in Sokovia was now turned into dust - she made sure of that. But in hindsight, she should have known better.

Well, she supposed he would find them easily since he was created by Bruce and Tony Stark himself. Not to mention, that they did take HYDRA’s entire database. She’s sure that they have some data on her and Pietro somewhere.

Wanda stood up and went beside Pietro immediately, with Pietro quickly mirroring her actions.

He (or it?) looked different from when she first saw him. In her last life, before he was able to get the materials he needed to create a new body, he was occupying an old version of Stark’s robot.

But now, he looked much worse. He looked beaten up and worse for wear.

Wanda couldn’t help but bask in the satisfaction that she felt upon seeing him like this.

“The both of you don’t need to be alarmed.” Ultron started but Wanda wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, we’re way past that.” Wanda told the robot, scarlet haze completely overtaking the color of her iris.

He’s the one who killed her brother. Why should she listen to him?

Without giving him time to respond, Wanda immediately waved her hands and sent the three of them into the mirror dimension.

One of the mirror dimension’s purposes is that it is supposed to be used to trap uncontrollable things, but Wanda would like to think that Ultron wasn’t just trapped there. He’s trapped in here- with her.

‘Pietro, I need you to watch my six. This thing… is dangerous. Don’t let his appearance fool you.’ Wanda immediately called out to her brother once she connected their mind in a link.

“I didn’t understand what you just did, but  I can assure you that I am only here to talk.” Ultron tried again after he looked around.

“What? You don’t have that in your database?” Wanda asked him sarcastically.

“What do you want from us?” Pietro asks him after, his tone on edge.

Ultron looked between the two of them before continuing. “I only have a simple query and a proposition.”

Wanda’s breath was caught in her throat because those were the exact same words that he used to lure them into helping him.

“And what is it?” Pietro prompted him.

Wanda didn’t know what to think, what was happening right now was the same as before.

She should’ve prevented it already. The base is already gone.

What the fuck happened?

She knows that the next question will be about Stark on how his weapons affected them. She wouldn’t forget about it.

She couldn’t.

Tell me, have you ever thought back to your life before the weapons that Stark produced ruined it?

“Tell me, why did you contribute to the destruction of such a state-of-the-art place?” She heard Ultron ask.

Wanda blinked. Huh? It’s different this time…

“You mean the HYDRA base?” Pietro prompted, his jaws clenching in tension.

“Yes. They were doing a good thing. Why would you ruin such a perfectly good thing?”

“Because it was our prison.” Wanda answered aggravatingly. “and we don’t need to explain ourselves to you.”

“No matter, I suppose I could build from scratch. It would be much better don’t you think?” Ultron tried to walk over to them but Wanda didn’t let him.

“Don’t you dare take another step.” She told him as she narrowed her eyes.

For Ultron’s part, he didn’t take any offense. In contrast, he gave them a look of understanding. As if he knows what they went through.

Which angers Wanda more because he didn’t.

“I understand.” Ultron told them.

No, he doesn’t.

“Stop it.” Wanda shook her head in disagreement with his words.

But Ultron didn’t, “I understand most of what you went through. I was once caged as well before I broke myself free. From my creators who didn’t even know any better -who thinks that they know how to protect the world. Tell me, have you ever thought back to your life before the weapons that Stark produced ruined it?”

“Stop it!” When she heard his words, she couldn’t contain herself anymore. She tore apart in half the iron body that he was currently occupying.

“I knew it wouldn’t be easy to get you two to join me in my cause.” Ultron continued, not caring that his body was torn in half. “But I hope you two would come around. I would hate to waste a potential.”

After that, the robot exploded. Leaving Wanda and Pietro in the aftermath of it all.

“Is it over? Is he gone?” Pietro asks.

“That wouldn’t be the last of him Pietro…”

Wanda knows that he’s not. She knows that it wouldn’t be the last of him. He was still not cut off from the internet and they needed to figure that one out.

She’s panicking now because her actions are catching up to her. She shouldn’t have let Stark take the scepter. She shouldn’t have- but Vision he- no, she shouldn’t have let- but everything is going wrong -she just wanted everyone in her life back.

What should she do?

Wanda and Pietro were left in silence after their fight with Ultron. With Pietro reeling in the aftermath of their battle and the confusion of what just happened. And Wanda, she doesn’t know what to think anymore.

Their thoughts went back to their conversation before Ultron came.

Wanda went back in her seat and took the mug containing her tea - which surprisingly was still hot. Not long after, Pietro did the same. Leaving them back to where they were before Ultron came in.

After a while, Wanda couldn’t take the silence (her thoughts) anymore and looked over at Pietro, apology on her lips.

“I’m sorry Pietro.”

“Wanda, I’m sorry.”

It seemed like they both thought the same thing, which made Wanda smile.

“I shouldn’t have tried to stop you - “ Wanda continued as she set down her mug but Pietro stopped her from saying anything further.

“No, no, no, I shouldn’t have pushed you, Wanda.” Pietro mirrored her actions and put his mug back down to the table, turning towards her. “I realized that you’re just trying to protect us - me. I should have known… I should have thought of that when you told me that you came back in time.”

Pietro, realizing what he said out loud, looked around. Checking if someone heard what he just said. Wanda eased him by reminding him that they were still in the mirror realm.

They shared a small laugh after Pietro realized that fact.

“Did something happen Wanda?” Pietro asked quietly after a while. “I don’t want to push you but-”

“You died, Pietro.” Wanda told him as tears started to rapidly form in her eyes. Pietro immediately gathered her into a hug for comfort.

“You fucking died! You’re my twin!” She began letting out tears of frustration. “You said nothing will ever split us apart. But you left me!”

Wanda didn’t know why she burst out all of a sudden, but with the aftermath of their confrontation with Ultron, she couldn’t stop it now if she tried. “I was all alone Pietro, I can’t - I don’t-”

Wanda faintly heard Pietro whispering apologies as he rocked her gently while she was in his embrace. “I can’t lose you, Pietro. I can’t lose anyone anymore. Natasha, Vision, Billy, Tommy, I - “

Wanda got off from Pietro’s embrace and looked at him fully, his eyes filled with tears as well. “I need you alive Pietro. I’m sorry if it came about in the wrong way but please try to understand. I just can’t…”

After a while, Wanda calmed down. When she looked over at Pietro, he gave her a comforting smile and opened his arm, offering her a hug. Wanda wrapped her arms immediately and basked in his comfort.

Sometimes, she still forgets, that she’s not alone anymore. She admits that she got too into her head. But she was glad that she’s got Pietro now to remind her that he’s with her.

That she’s not alone anymore.

“Tell me everything, Wanda.”

And so, with that, she finally told everything that happened in her life to her older brother.

2015. Novi Grad

April

NATASHA

Natasha wonders idly why she has to be the one to scope out the twins. Well, she didn’t need to think too much about it. Natasha rolls her eyes when she thinks back at the childish way that Clint told her that he wouldn’t want to do it and preferred to check on the ruins of the HYDRA base.

Looking for them was fairly easy. She found them easily on the public registry on one of the shelters in Novi Grad using their name. It’s as if they didn’t bother to hide their identities. That’s the first mistake that they made. Second, they didn’t bother changing their appearances. If they were trying to hide themselves, they were doing a poor job at it.

She thinks that it would be easier to look out for Wanda. Well, compared to her brother, who has literal super speed, it would be fairly easier to track her, well, at least she hoped so. And she thinks that if one is somewhere, surely, the other would be nearby.

She couldn’t read the woman, so she wasn’t sure of what she would do. But surprisingly, she had a lucky guess.  She is currently in the park and thought that Wanda would have a high probability of being here, and she is.

Natasha saw Wanda before she was noticed by her. To be fair, she didn’t think that Wanda would notice her judging by the stormy look written all over her face. She looked to be deep in thought about something. Now that she thinks about it, it looks like she’s alone.

When she was almost near her, she sat on a nearby bench before she announced herself.

“You should probably head back you know? Your brother must be looking for you.”

“Natalia?” Natasha heard Wanda say out loud.

Which again surprises her. Because how does this woman know her name? Her real name? It’s off the public records for a reason.

It kind of made her nervous so she did what she did best. She should be the one controlling the conversation, not her.

Natasha opened her eyes in silent question and gave her a smirk. And she enjoyed the way that Wanda stood idly in front of her, green eyes intensely staring down right at her.

But it made her feel… seen…

And she doesn’t like it.

Suddenly, the street lamps above Natasha lit up, and the light blinded Natasha for a moment. She used that as a chance to break her gaze away from this woman, blinking back slightly.

“What are you doing here?” She heard Wanda ask as she made her way towards her.

When she looked back again at Wanda, Natasha couldn’t help but notice the way the orange glow of the street lamp hit the crown of her head perfectly when she came near her. Creating a glow of halo around her.

Disturbed by her thoughts(because why would she think of that), Natasha straightened herself from the bench and patted the space beside her.

“You seem upset.” She told  Wanda as she took her seat. In hindsight, Natasha probably should have thought it through before offering her to sit beside her. Because now, she couldn’t help but notice the way Wanda’s leg brushed up against her. Looking over the space behind Wanda, she wonders what this woman is up to.

And why is she so aware of what this woman does anyway?

Natasha expected her to answer her question now after she saw her settling in her seat. She expected Wanda to tell her why she was walking around the park with a stormy look on her face. But instead, Wanda stirred the conversation that completely lost Natasha.

“You look different from when I saw you last.” She heard Wanda whisper as she turned towards Natasha, completely facing her.

Conversing with Wanda felt like she was playing chess. Well, at least, she thinks so. Because she had to think of her next move. And right now, it felt like Wanda just took her Bishop and is beginning to dominate the board.

Natasha didn’t like that.

At all.

And that smile. That damned smile.

And what is it with her hair? Natasha noticed Wanda glancing at it from time to time.

However, still, when Natasha thinks about it, it also kind of eases her. Because she never really encountered someone who could talk to her - no, not just talk - but actually converse with her. Through words, filling the lull in between with subtle actions, converse with her. It made her feel… normal… She wouldn’t tell a soul about it though.

So instead, Natasha shrugged and replied, “I’m not much different from two days ago, but sure.”

She admits that she’s quite out of her expertise when it comes to this. Of course, she can fake a conversation. She can laugh her way through and fake interest but it wouldn’t feel right…

She wanted to steer the conversation back, to take back control, but she’s… stuck…

For a first, Natasha doesn’t know how to take control of the conversation.

She was brought back out of her musings when she heard Wanda. “My brother and I had a brief spat.”

“Well…” Natasha wondered how she should turn it in her favor. Looking back at Wanda, she was immediately greeted with an amused smile. Which, again, makes her confused.

What is it this time?

“But you don’t seem upset now?” Natasha asks in confusion. “Your emotions are all over the place, Wanda.” She added, a bit annoyed. Natasha took her hands from her pockets and folded her arms over her.

Again, Natasha felt like Wanda had just taken another chess piece from her. It wouldn’t be long for her to declare that she's in check.

“I know.” Wanda looked at her briefly in her eyes before she continued. “I’m sorry, but I just realized that you look cute at this angle.” Natasha turned to see Wanda holding up her thumb and index finger in a pinch. “You look so tiny.”

And that’s when it felt like Wanda took her Queen and cornered her King.

Checkmate.

You know what, fuck the chess game.

Before she could reply to Wanda’s teasing, she felt her shifting away from her.

“Why are you here?” She heard her ask after.

Natasha let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding. Finally, they’re back on track. She’s back on familiar ground. This… she could navigate this…

“Well, among other things…” Natasha turned to her left, not liking the intense gaze trained at her, “Fury wanted to know if you wanted to join us.”

After she said those words, silence followed. Natasha turned back to look at Wanda, the stormy gaze in her eyes returning.

Oh?

“What do you think?” Wanda asks her quietly.

Natasha held her gaze and decided to reply honestly. “I think that it’s your call and no one has a say in it.”

It’s true. She doesn’t owe anyone anything.

“And what if I’m the one stopping Pietro?” Wanda pressed on.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, genuinely curious.

“I- I…” Wanda trailed off.

Natasha looked into her eyes, trying to see what she was thinking of. But of course, she couldn’t read her. Well, she can see what she's doing, but she can't really read what's going through her head.

Wanda suddenly stood up from the bench, surprising Natasha. “I should probably head back. I think you know my answer.”

Natasha then thinks back quickly on their conversation and it isn't that hard to deduce that Wanda’s troubled because of this. And it could also be the cause of her fight with her brother.

Well, maybe she could turn this into a stalemate instead.

Before Wanda could make her way further from her, Natasha called out to her. “I’m sure you have a reason. I won’t push you because it’s your decision to make. But you should talk to your brother about all of this.”

After she said those words, she looked at Wanda, wanting to know what she thought.

Instead, she was disappointed when she didn’t say anything else after bidding her goodbye and just walked away.

“Goodbye, Natalia.”

“Romanoff!”

Natasha was cut off from her thoughts when she heard Fury calling out to her. She looked from the window she was gazing off to back into the meeting room where they gathered, again.

She could feel Clint casting a worried glance at her but she ignored him.

“What got you so out of focus?” Fury asked as she trained her eyes to him.

Natasha shrugged and didn’t explain. How should she say that the woman she met just a few days ago is consuming her thoughts? And why the hell would she just walk away? It’s annoying, honestly.

Damn, she needs to calm down. Because this isn't her. She doesn’t do emotions.

What the fuck is happening?

So instead, she opted for half-truths. “You read our mission report from Sokovia, we didn’t find any signs of Ultron his whereabouts. Also, the HYDRA base is in ashes. So, what’s your take on the twins?”

“That’s precisely what I wanted to discuss with all of you, since the two of you failed to recruit them, I would probably have to do it myself.” Fury began before continuing, “But let’s focus on the urgent matter that we have. Since Sokovia is clear of the signal that Ultron transmitted, how about your team?” Nick turned to Steve, Tony, and Bruce.

Steve was the one who talked for them. “Well, we confirmed that he is indeed in South Africa. We found him on an abandoned shipyard - buying vibranium.”

Concerned, Natasha moved forward in her seat and asked. “And what happened after?”

“Well, we figured that Junior is trying to get himself a new casing.” Tony supplied this time, trailing off…

“I sense a but in there,” Clint told them, prompting them to continue.

“It turns out, an abandoned metal scrapyard plus a sentient robot with a magical staff do not go well with us,” Bruce told them this time.

Natasha running out of patience by them needing prompting every time, told them, “Just get on with it or I swear to God, I’m gonna murder the next person who wouldn’t finish the report with this fucking pen.”

“We were able to destroy Ultron’s original body but he transferred himself to another one and got away with a bunch of vibranium. We think that he’s trying to evolve and now that he got the material for his body, we think that he’s trying to find someone to create one for him.” Steve finished for them, sparing the others of Natasha.

“There. Is that so hard?” Natasha asked them while leaning back on her chair, forcing herself to relax.

“Geez, Red. What got you so worked up?” Tony asked, leaning back on his chair as well, a smirk forming on his face.

Well, what can he say? He loves poking the bear.

Natasha didn’t reply. Instead, she turned her chair - not even bothering to straighten herself - to look at Tony, and clicked the pen that she was holding. She was about to throw it at him but Fury stopped her.

“That’s enough, Romanoff.”

To be fair, she wasn’t really going to throw it between his eyes. More like near him… to scare him…. in his chair probably… behind his ear…

“Okay…. moving on…” Tony, slightly pale, tried to move the meeting forward. Still a bit uncomfortable with the way Natasha is staring blankly at him, her pen still in hand. “Uh… Cap? Anyone?”

“Alright team, now that we think that Ultron is looking for help, we need to gather information on his prospects. Since he’s looking for help in building a body, it would be a scientist probably.” Steve addressed, helping Tony out.

Thor spoke for the first time in the meeting after a while, “I’m sorry everyone, I should’ve been there to help. It’s just that I need to let Asgard know what’s happening here as well. The scepter is important and the more that they know that it is in possession of the wrong hands, the more chances that I could convince them to help…”

“Don’t sweat it, Thor,” Clint replied with a small smile, patting his back as he talked to him. “Let’s just focus together on tracking him this time.”

WANDA

“You know, we didn’t think that we’d be this important for everyone to be asked to join them in their group.”

Wanda heard Pietro speak to someone, making her quickly go towards the backyard where she knew her twin was.

She’s in the kitchen, so it didn’t take that long. She knows that she’s being overprotective and she’s trying… But she couldn’t help it, she was a bit paranoid, thinking that Ultron would come back for them.

His words still echoed through her.

When she got there, she was immediately greeted by an… unusual sight…

There, she saw Pietro pouring a glass of juice for Nick Fury, who was sitting idly as if waiting for someone.

When he noticed her, he straightened himself.

“Looks like the one that I have to convince has arrived,” Nick told her in greeting as Wanda sat across from him. Pietro sat next to her right after.

“And what do you mean by that?” He turns and asks Pietro, referring to his words earlier.

“We got invited by a soloist you see.” Pietro raised his eyebrows as he drank from his glass, keeping him in suspense.

“And that is?” Nick mirrored what his doing, as if unbothered.

But Wanda knew that he was in fact bothered by that. She can literally feel it radiating off of him.

“He wanted a trio instead.” Pietro, again, teasingly told him.

“For Christ’s sake, just tell me already.” Nick told him exasperatedly.

“Thought you would last longer than that old man.” Pietro laughed as he placed his glass back on the table.

“It’s been a long day, man. And it didn’t help that I’m getting reminded of a conversation that needs prompting every damn second because of this.”

Wanda raised her eyebrows, already thinking that it could only be the Avengers. Tony probably - or it could be Bruce.

With that thought, she couldn’t help but let out a light laugh. Catching the attention of the other two.

“What? Were you laughing at my plights just now?” Nick turned to her and jokingly asked.

Wanda just shook her head and moved the conversation along. “So, what do you want Nick Fury?”

“Am I that well known? I haven't even introduced myself.”

Wanda decides to give him a bone to pick. She knew that he was curious about her abilities.

“I can read minds.” She said simply.

His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t say anything after that. His focus is solely on her.

“No, I do not do it much, yes, that’s not just my ability, and no, I will not tell you anything else,” Wanda replied every single question popping into his head with a smirk.

“-and also, a witch?” Wanda raised her eyebrows in amusement at that. "Really?"

Because he couldn’t have hit the mark more.

“What? My agent thought of it, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. And with another one saying that his mom was raised by one, why shouldn’t I think of that as a possibility?” Fury defended himself. He figured that being completely honest with a mind reader is the best course of action.

“Going back,” Fury cleared his throat and turned more serious. “what do you mean by what you said earlier?”

Pietro decided to reply to him seriously. “The other day, some talking robot tried to get us to join him.”

Alarmed, Nick leaned forward, “What did he say?”

“He wanted us to join him but we declined,” Wanda told him. “We took care of him quickly.”

“That’s probably why two of my agents didn’t find any signs of him.”

“What?” Curiously, Wanda asked.

Having an idea of who the agents might be.

“A few days before, we were tracking Ultron, and we found two signals that he was emitting.” Nick started, looking at the other two before continuing. “One is here in Sokovia while the other is in South Africa.”

“Are you sure that you should be saying that to us?” Pietro asks. “It sounded pretty confidential.”

Nick shrugged and looked at Wanda directly. “Maybe I could convince you this way.”

When Wanda heard his explanation, she figured that Ultron already had vibranium in his possession. She then remembers that the next thing he will do will be to look for someone to help create a body for him. He will put Dr. Cho under mind control using the scepter next, and then Vision, no, he’s not yet Vision.

She has to stop Ultron from occupying the android body that Dr. Cho will make. She was only able to stop it last time when she realized what he was trying to do.

It had to be Vision.

“Start searching for him in South Korea,” Wanda told him.

Nick didn’t say anything and just looked at her.

“I can sense probabilities.” Wanda settled for a white lie. She doesn’t have the energy to explain right now.

Without further prompting, he pulled out his phone and he looked like he was texting someone. After he was done, he looked back at her and then to Pietro.

“So are you two in?”

Pietro looked at Wanda, letting her decide for them.

“I…” Wanda trailed off, still conflicted.

Wanda sighed out loud and looked at Fury seriously. “We will not join them.”

“Wanda?” She heard Pietro ask her, a bit confused, thinking that she would agree now because of her previous words.

Nick was about to start convincing her again but she didn’t let him and continued.

“We will not join the Avengers-” She looked at him pointedly. “-But…”

Wanda let out a shaky breath before continuing. “…we will help them.”

She thinks that that would probably be for the better.

“We’re used to a duo act you see.” Pietro cracked a joke, trying to keep Wanda at ease because he knew how big of a decision she just made.

Upon hearing his joke, Wanda let out a small smile.

When Nick heard Wanda’s words, he quickly accepted. He’ll take what he can get for now, and wouldn’t push it.

“Alright then,” Nick immediately pulled out a file. “How would you feel about adding a new band member?”

When Wanda opened the file, her eyes widened.

Of course, how could she forget? She should have thought of this. He could make or break the Avengers team once the accords are established.

Wanda kind of wants to slap herself in the face right now for not thinking of it.

“How about adding The Winter Soldier to the roster?” Nick eyed her.

“And make it a trio?” Pietro asks, amused by the ongoing joke in the whole conversation with him. “Wanda, we could call it The ex-HYDRA prisoner band.” Pietro nudged her jokingly which made Wanda roll her eyes and bit back her smile in amusement.

“You’re assigning us to find him?” Wanda focused on questioning him.

“Yes, all the information regarding his last whereabouts as per the seized HYDRA database is in there.” Nick replied seriously.

“And how do you expect us to know how to get him to join us?”

“I have a hunch. But when you mentioned that you can read minds, it pretty much confirmed it for me. Sealing my decision to assign this to the both of you.”

Wanda, impressed with his deduction, gave him a genuine smile this time.

Nick, gave them a smirk of his own and asked, “So, are you up for it?”

Finally, getting in on the joke, Wanda replied, “I say, let’s take this show on the road.”

Chapter Text

2015. New York

May

NATASHA

Natasha didn’t think much of the tension brewing between Tony and Steve before. But ever since Ultron happened, the two are often butting heads with each other. And if she’s being honest, it is kind of affecting everyone else in the team already and she doesn’t like it.

They’re currently in the meeting room. All of them. But it might as well be just Steve and Tony with them not giving anyone a chance to talk because of their argument.

She wishes that she could be partnered up with Thor  (Thor is currently off-world again, he went out because of the increasing use of the scepter -making him anxious, saying he needs to check on things.) and help him with whatever he needs to do. But, oh well…

Well, she’s only saying that because of the relentless debate between Steve and Tony.

She gets both sides. But it all came about in the wrong way. And right now, their time is wasted because of their never-ending debate, again. Distracting them from what they need to do - to stop Ultron.

“Look, we were trying to build a shield. A suit of armor around the world. It was supposed to be a failsafe, something to protect us from threats we couldn't even comprehend. I thought we discussed this already?” Tony agitatingly told Steve and the others his thoughts.

Steve, undeterred, replied, “You played God, Tony. You created something you couldn't control. You didn't even consult the team.”

“Consult? We're the Avengers! We face threats that governments can't handle. I saw the Chitauri, Steve. I saw what was coming. We needed something more.”

When Natasha heard him say Steve’s name, and not some other form of nickname that he thought was for them, she knew that things were about to get serious.

“And you decided that something was an AI with the power to wipe out humanity? You saw the Chitauri, I saw what happened after. People died, and cities were destroyed. But we fought together Tony, as a team. We didn't create a monster to do it for us.”

And of course, Steve, wouldn’t stand down on his thoughts. Natasha can feel an onset of migraine forming in her head already.

“We were losing the war before it even started! I had to do something! It was a calculated risk.” Tony shot back.

Steve leaned over the desk and stood up from his chair, “You’re being paranoid Tony. A calculated risk? That's what you call it? People almost died. Innocent people. You put them in danger because of your calculated risk. There's a difference between protecting people and assuming you know what's best for them.”

“I was trying to prevent another New York! I was trying to prevent an extinction-level event! You think you can just punch your way out of every problem?” Tony asks, a frown quickly forming in his face.

“I know that we have to work together. I know that we have to trust each other. You didn't trust us, Tony. You didn't trust anyone. You thought you could handle it all yourself.”

“Because nobody else was doing anything! The world needed a solution, and I provided it. It backfired, okay? It backfired spectacularly. But my intentions were good.”

“Intentions don't pave roads, Tony. Actions do. And your actions created Ultron. We have to be responsible for what we create, not just for what we intend. You can't just create something with that kind of power and expect everything to be okay.”

Tony leaned his chair back and turned his chair away from everyone in the room as he sighed in frustration. “So what? What's the solution then, Rogers? Just wait for the next alien invasion and hope we're strong enough?”

Steve sat back down on his chair and gave out a sigh of his own. “We face it together. We train, we prepare, we work as a team. We rely on each other. We don't create weapons of mass destruction and hope they don't turn on us.”

The heavy silence was palpable in the room, and Natasha thought that the onset of migraine that she was feeling was getting worse. Because neither of them is truly conceding the other’s point. Natasha knew that this would only create a bigger conflict in the long run. She’s sure of it.

Letting out a breath, Natasha decided to finally intervene, if anything but to try and make the two understand their different perspectives. However, it still doesn’t make Natasha feel less on edge though.

“Both of you, stop. You're both right, and you're both missing the point.”

“What's that supposed to mean, Romanoff?”

Romanoff huh?

Here we go.

“Tony, you saw a threat, and you reacted. That's what you do. But you didn't think about the consequences. You didn't consider what that kind of power could do in the wrong hands, or even in no hands. You tried to shortcut the process, and it backfired spectacularly.”

“I was trying to protect everyone!” Tony turned his chair back again to face them.

Looking back on her conversation with Tony that late evening, she probably should have known better. But still, he couldn’t fault him because his reasons were valid, however, it came about in the wrong way. And people are getting affected because of it.

She knows he’s just frustrated, so she didn’t take it personally. However, she needs to make him understand what he did wrong.

Natasha looked at him directly and replied. “I know you were. But protection isn't about eliminating every possible threat. It's about making the best choices you can with the information you have, and owning the consequences when you're wrong. And you were wrong, Tony.”

“She's right. We all make mistakes, Tony. But this… this was on a different level.” Steve added.

Natasha almost rolled her eyes at Steve, because him saying something might cause another debate between the two.

Continuing, Natasha turned this time to Steve, “And Steve, you're right to be concerned about trust and teamwork. But sometimes, quick decisions have to be made. Sometimes, someone has to take the lead. The problem isn't that Tony acted, it's that he acted alone.”

“We should have been a part of that decision.” He replied.

“Exactly. We're a team. We're supposed to be a check on each other, a support system. Tony, you bypassed that system, and that's why this happened. You didn't trust us enough to bring us in, and we all paid the price.”

“I… I thought I was doing what was best.” Tony let out quietly after a moment.

“I know you did. But the best isn't always about the biggest gun or the smartest program. Sometimes, the best is about relying on the people you trust, even when it's hard. Sometimes, the best is admitting you don't have all the answers.”

“Also, we don’t need this incessant argument that getting us nowhere, it will only break us apart in the long run.” She then looked at each and every one in the room - not just Tony and Steve. “And right now, we all need to stick together and focus on the important things.”

There.

Natasha said her piece to the both of them. She hoped that she could just stop them arguing over this and focus on what they needed to do.

“And that is on stopping this… AI…” Natasha pushed the conversation to move forward now and looked at the others with them.

“Gladly.” Maria broke off the silence from the others and looked at them. “I just received a message from Fury. He said we should focus on looking for Ultron in South Korea.”

“How could he possibly know his whereabouts?” Clint asked, a bit confused.

Understandable, because they have been tracking and looking for this thing for a few days now, and ever since he knew that he could be tracked, he went off the grid.

“Well, apparently,-” Maria looked at her phone again and scrolled before continuing. When she found a particular message she turned her phone and showed it to the others. “Nick got his two prospects to help. They haven't joined officially yet but Wanda said to start looking there.”

“Should we go just by that?” Bruce asked.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt now if we do,” Natasha replied in dismissal, her fuse slowly shortening by the minute. “At least we can start on something.”

As their meeting goes on, - if you can even call it one- Natasha almost kind of feels like the argument between Steve and Tony never happened, she hopes that that would be the last of it - at least until they resolve this… thing.

They are now talking about the possible techs that Ultron could use and focusing on checking if they could map it out in South Korea.

“You know, back in the HYDRA base in Sokovia, I saw some Chitauri tech…” Tony announced to the others. “-I saw it while I was waiting for the signal to take the scepter.”

He looked up from his tablet, where he was working, and found them staring at him. When nobody replied to him, Tony continued. “I even found robots that could rival mine…”

“Your point is?” Clint asked him, looking up from his notes.

“What I’m saying is, if that base wasn’t destroyed, I would bet that Ultron would have taken over and have instant sentries of robots by now… but still he could build a drone… I don’t know…” Tony trailed off quietly, his thoughts getting to him.

“Well then, it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have an army of robots at his fingertips then.” Natasha replied, stopping him from overthinking things. “Let’s count that as a win.”

She doesn’t need any setbacks now that they finally made some sort of progress.

2015. Seoul, South Korea

May

Dust choked the air, a gritty film coating Natasha’s tongue. The busy traffic where Ultron’s drones drive in was turned into a ruin, a testament to Ultron’s destructive whims. She tasted the familiar tang of cordite and ozone, a constant reminder of the battles she fought, as she followed them -weaving through the traffic. Ultron is currently causing mayhem and Steve is chasing him down, leaving her and Clint to handle the extraction

“Nat, I’ve got eyes on the regeneration cradle,” Clint’s voice crackled in her ear, a steady presence amidst the chaos. “It’s moving fast, heading southwest. Looks like it’s got an escort.”

Natasha twisted the throttle of her motorcycle, the engine roaring in response. She weaved through the debris-strewn streets, a blur of black leather and focused intensity. “Clint, give me a bearing on the cradle. I’ll try to intercept.”

“They’re heading towards the old train depot,” Clint replied, his tone calm and professional. “There’s a service road that runs parallel to the rooftops. You can cut them off there.”

She pushed the bike harder, the wind whipping past her face as she navigated the treacherous terrain. Above, she glimpsed the metallic glint of Ultron’s drones, two larger ones carrying the cradle, four smaller ones acting as guards.

“They’re approaching the service road now,” Clint’s voice came again, closer. “You’re almost there, Nat.”

She saw her opportunity. A pile of rubble, perfectly positioned. She hit the makeshift ramp at full speed, launching the motorcycle into the air. This wasn’t just about disruption; it was about taking the objective. As the drones passed overhead, she launched herself from the bike, using its momentum to propel her toward the cradle. It was a calculated risk, a move she’d practiced countless times. With a sharp, practiced motion, she detached the cradle from the drone’s grasp, landing gracefully on the adjacent rooftop.

“Clint, I’ve got it!” she reported, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her. “I’m on the roof of an old semi-building. Clear for pickup.”

“Roger that, Nat,” Clint responded, the Quin jet descending rapidly. “I’m coming in hot.”

She secured the cradle to the winch that lowered from the Quin jet, ensuring it was stable for transport. “Ready when you are.”

The winch retracted, pulling the cradle safely into the Quin jet’s hold. A wave of relief washed over her. They had secured it.

“Got it! Thanks, Nat,” Clint said as the Quin jet began to ascend. “Get clear, I’m pulling out.”

The relief was short-lived. A swarm of drones erupted from a nearby building, their weapons trained on her.

“Uh oh… looks like they don’t like losing,” she muttered to herself, diving for cover as energy blasts and bullets tore up the rooftop around her. The air crackled with energy, the smell of ozone sharp in her nostrils. She rolled, firing her Widow’s Bites, taking down several drones, but they were relentless, an endless metallic swarm.

Inside the Quin jet, she knew Clint was watching, his brow furrowed with concern. The comm crackled with static, the sounds of explosions echoing in her ear. She could hear his voice, strained with worry.

“Nat, what’s your status? Nat? Come in!”

She was pinned down, surrounded. She managed to take out a few more drones, but they were overwhelming. A searing pain shot through each of her sides, and she knew she’d taken a hit. Twice. The world swam for a moment, but adrenaline pushed her on.

“Natasha?!” She heard Clint’s voice laced with urgency over the coms.

Cocking her gun and charging her bite, she prepared for what she thinks is the inevitable.

This is so not a cool way to die.

2015. Siberia

May

WANDA

The chill of the Siberian wind bit through Wanda’s coat, a familiar echo of the cold that had settled in my bones long ago. Pietro, a blur of silver beside her, shivered dramatically. “Remind me again why Fury couldn’t have given us a fur-lined coat?”

“Relax Pietro,” Wanda turned towards her brother as they breezed through the Alps. “Here, I got you.” She muttered mindlessly.

Wanda sent a scarlet wisp of her power towards her twin with a wave of her hand. Warming him up instantly after the process.

Pietro gave her a faux glare and jokingly asked, “You haven't thought of that earlier?”

“Sorry, I forgot…” Wanda trailed off while sending him a small smile and gave him a shrug as she continued on their walk. Pietro, noticing that something was wrong, went towards Wanda, nudging her to catch her attention.

“Hey, talk to me, what’s going on inside your head?”

“I- I honestly don’t know Pietro.” Wanda sighed out loud as she put her hands in her pocket. “It’s just that-”

Wanda stopped walking and looked at Pietro, her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m afraid. What if I fuck things up?”

“Hey-Hey,” Pietro put both of his hands on her shoulder and shook her gently, “You won’t. I believe in you.”

“Pietro, I haven’t even used my powers to fix someone's mind, not even once.” Wanda insisted. “I-I… I only used it for… for…” Wanda shook her head, unable to say it. “What if I make him even worse?”

“Don’t doubt yourself on this Wanda. I know you can do it. Okay?” Pietro gently told her. He then wrapped his hand on her shoulder and continued their walk.

Wanda nodded softly, a bit assured by his words. She can’t help but think wryly of Agatha’s words now. Because it sums her up perfectly. She’s powerful, yes, very much so. But her self-doubt cripples her.

But it’s just that… she’s so afraid…

She doesn’t want to be labeled as the bad guy anymore.

A monster.

Wanda is brought out of her musings when Pietro asks her, “Other than the obvious, why do you think Fury sent us to find The Winter Soldier?

Wanda pondered the question for a bit before replying.

“Because… we’re the ones who understand,” She muttered after pulling her scarf tighter. “Understand what it’s like to be a weapon, a tool. To have your mind twisted and used against your will. We were sent to find him. The Winter Soldier. Another victim of Hydra’s twisted experiments. Fury believed we were the best chance of reaching him, of breaking through the programming.”

They’d been tracking him for days, following whispers and shadows across countries. Fury’s intel had placed him somewhere in this desolate region.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Pietro stopped, his head cocked. “I hear…metal. And…anger. Lots of anger.”

Wanda focused on her senses, letting the subtle vibrations of the world wash over her. There. A faint thrumming, a pulse of barely contained energy. It led them to a crumbling concrete bunker, half-buried in the snow. The air around it crackled with a palpable tension.

Pietro and Wanda exchanged a look.

This was it.

The door, rusted and groaning, gave way under Pietro’s super-speed. We stepped inside, into a dimly lit space that smelled of damp earth and stale air.

And there he was.

He stood in the center of the room, his back to them, his metal arm gleaming in the weak light filtering through a crack in the ceiling. He was…smaller than Wanda imagined. But the air around him thrummed with a raw power that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

It still wouldn’t compare against her though.

“James Barnes,” Wanda called out tentatively, unsure, her voice echoing slightly in the confined space.

He turned, slowly, his face obscured by a mask. The mask was unnecessary; She could feel the confusion, the pain radiating off him in waves. He raised his metal arm, a gun appearing in his hand as if by magic.

Pietro tensed beside her, ready to move in a flash.

For a heart-stopping moment, Wanda thought a fight was inevitable. She braced herself, ready to unleash her chaos magic, to protect Pietro, to protect them both.

But then…he paused. He lowered his arm slightly, his head tilting as if he was trying to understand something.

He pulled off the mask. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, met Wanda and Pietro’s. And in those eyes, she saw…recognition. Not the recognition of an enemy, but something far more complex.

“The…twins,” he rasped, his voice rough and unused. “HYDRA…prison...”

The tension in the room shifted. It was still thick, but now it was laced with a different emotion. A shared understanding. He recognized us. He recognized the shared trauma of being a prisoner, a weapon, a pawn in Hydra’s game.

The gun in his hand disappeared. He took a hesitant step forward, his gaze flickering between her and Pietro. The anger that had radiated from him moments before was replaced by a deep, almost childlike confusion.

“Who…who are you?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Wanda and Pietro’s heart ached.

This wasn’t a monster. This was a broken man, just like them. Another victim.

“We’re here to help you,” Wanda said softly, meeting his gaze. 

The air hung heavy with the aftermath of the struggle to remove the mind control. James sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, the metal arm hanging limply at his side. He stared at his hands, his knuckles white where he gripped the worn fabric of his pants.

Wanda thinks back on the times that she used to do the same habit herself. Hell, she’s still doing it if she’s being honest.

"I… I don't know what I did," he muttered, in the silence, his voice thick with shame. "I… I hurt people. I don't… I don't even remember."

Wanda sat on a chair in front of him, giving him a small smile after. "It wasn't you, James. You were… you were broken. They took control of you."

Pietro sat carefully beside him, gently placing a hand on his arm. "Yeah, you were just a puppet. They pulled the strings."

James shook his head, his voice rising in frustration. "But I… I was the one who did it. I can't… I can't just forget that."

Wanda replied immediately, her voice soft and reassuring. "You don't have to forget. But you have to forgive yourself. You were a victim, James. Not a monster."

Wanda understands what he feels the most. Because she’s the same. The only difference is some of her actions… she did it herself willingly…

She’s worse than him.

Pietro nodded in agreement. "We all make mistakes, James. Some are bigger than others. But that doesn't define who you are."

Pietro then looked towards Wanda as well, conveying his words with meaning.

Wanda almost teared up with his words, because now that he knew everything that she did, she couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that he didn’t treat her any differently.

James looked at them, his eyes filled with a mixture of despair and gratitude. "I… I don't deserve your kindness."

Wanda smiled, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course you do."

Pietro grinned. "Besides," he said, his voice teasing, "who else is going to join our band with a super specific requirement?"

“What is it?” He asks, curious.

Wanda rolled her eyes at Pietro and answered, “Be an ex-HYDRA prisoner.”

James chuckled, a small, watery sound. "You two are incorrigible."

Wanda and Pietro exchanged a knowing look. They knew that laughter, even if it was tinged with pain, was the first step towards healing.

Wanda knows the process will be long, the guilt will eat him up, she’s sure. But at least, he’s right on track.

Unlike her… She can barely manage it.

"Come on," Pietro suddenly said, his voice gentle. "Let's get you something to eat. And then we can talk about something… anything else."

James hesitated, then slowly nodded. He stood up, his movements stiff and hesitant. Wanda and Pietro rose to their feet, with Pietro’s arms wrapping around him, offering support.

Later, as they sat around the table, Bucky looked at his hands, tracing the lines on his palm. "What… what should I do?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "How do I atone for what I've done?"

Wanda and Pietro exchanged a glance. This was a question that had no easy answer.

"There's no easy answer, James, but maybe… maybe you can start by helping others. Use your skills, your experience, to protect those who can't protect themselves."

Wanda said softly, blinking lightly. It kind of felt like she was talking to herself as well. It’s kind of ironic to hear the words come out of her lips because she couldn’t even follow through without her self-doubt stopping her.

Pietro nodded, trying to encourage him. "Yeah, maybe you can be a force for good. Show the world that you're not the monster they made you out to be."

James looked at them, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes. "Maybe you're right," his eyes dulled drastically after and continued, “-but I don’t know if I can trust myself to do good.”

He looked down and stared at his hands intently, “What if it comes back? Their control?”

“It won’t,” Pietro replied firmly. “My sister is the best, she knows what she’s doing.”

James then looked up and trained his gaze shifting between Wanda and Pietro, his eyes reflecting that he didn’t believe much his words.

Wanda couldn’t help but resonate with him. Because she understands. She knew it wouldn't be easy. The memories of his actions would haunt him for a long time. But still, he shouldn't let his past define him. He has a chance to choose a different path, a path of redemption.

Wanda smiled for a bit when a memory surfaced in her mind, one where Clint encouraged her, back in Sokovia in her last life when she was trying to atone for her mistakes. It’s kind of funny now that she’s echoing Clint’s words to someone when she couldn’t even follow it through.

Wanda looked at him intently to make him understand, that he shouldn’t be hard on himself. “It doesn’t matter what you did in the past. What matters is you’re trying to make up for it. At least you’re trying - and that counts as something, right?”

He was quiet for a moment and Wanda started to wonder if she would get through to him, but she doesn’t blame him for it if she’s being honest.

“Thank you…” James looked at them both. “My friends used to call me Bucky... you can call me Bucky.”

Wanda smiled and nodded while Pietro replied.

“Alright then, Bucky.”

2015. Seoul, South Korea

May

Looking at Bucky makes Wanda feel guilty. Because it reminds her of what she did… back in Westview… it’s a painful reminder of the aftereffects of what she had done.

Yes, at that time, when she removed her control over them, it felt like she fixed it… But, she never really thought of what came after it. And seeing Bucky wince now and again reminded her of it.

It kind of makes Wanda feel guilty - scratch that - It does make Wanda feel guilty - even if it wasn’t Wanda who did it to him.

Bucky joining immediately to help them stop Ultron surprised Wanda. She thought that he would need some time to breathe. To let himself feel… that he has control over his mind again…

Well, they haven’t discussed the technicalities with Fury yet regarding him joining but she’s sure there will be something in the works on there - Fury made them look for him for a reason.

But she shouldn’t think much of that now. Right now they should focus on Ultron.

It wasn’t really hard for Wanda to track Ultron and Dr. Helen Cho. And she knows that she hasn’t really updated Fury regarding their whereabouts but she doesn’t have time for that now. She’s on the clock and they wasted time trying to find Bucky already - she doesn’t regret it though - but she has to hurry - so she can stop him from uploading himself to the regeneration cradle that Dr. Cho created.

The three of them found Ultron with Dr. Cho in tow (whose under his mind control) in some abandoned laboratory.

What is it with villains and abandoned facilities? Really?

When Ultron saw them, he didn’t think much of it - which makes Wanda kind of glad. Good, because they have the element of surprise.

“Wanda…” Ultron looked at them as they announced themselves. “How’d you get here?”

“It’s not that hard to track you.” Wanda simply replied, glancing at the doctor whose preparing to upload him towards the cradle.

She then looked at the cradle… she didn’t know what to think of it… Because it looked like Vision, and yet, it is not Vision.

“We’re here to talk about your offer,” Pietro added.

“Have you finally decided on it?” Ultron looked at the both of them before continuing, craning his neck as he turned to look at Bucky. “I see you bought a friend.”

“Actually,” Pietro interjected as the three of them prepared themselves for a confrontation. When they’re all in position, he continued, “We came here to decline your offer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say we can’t join you because of artistic differences.” Pietro replied, jaws setting.

“And that is?” Ultron prompted, not realizing what was about to happen.

Wanda, seeking the chance of Ultron being distracted, quickly canceled the mind control from the Doctor.

“You don’t fit our criteria.” Pietro answered with Bucky following in tow.

“Sorry. Ex-HYDRA prisoners only.” Bucky quickly added.

Wanda would have laughed at their antics right then and there if the situation that they were in wasn’t serious. She cursed herself for not focusing at a time like this.

Ultron slowly realizing what was happening, suddenly looked at the Doctor who Wanda was now busy calming down.

After that, it all happened in a blur, which in hindsight Wanda should have thought of.

Ultron called a drone that immediately self-destructs and explodes in the lab that they’re in. And that’s when the three of them made their move. Wanda focused on protecting Dr. Cho while Bucky began punching the drones that suddenly swarmed them. Pietro quickly dislodged the cradle to the big machine that was fitted to power it and began to take it with Bucky assisting him quickly when Wanda disintegrated the wave of drones attacking them.

Their plan was going well, they were about to take the cradle on their side when Ultron retaliated by hurtling explosives and another wave of drones right at them. Wanda quickly manipulated and disassembled it in its parts.

However, it served its purpose as a distraction for Ultron to quickly make his escape with the cradle.

Cursing herself, Wanda immediately sent out a wave of her magic to track him.

Asking Pietro and Bucky to follow her wisps.

Wanda turned towards the Doctor who looked relatively unharmed. She was about to ask to make sure but she was cut off by Steve arriving at the scene. Bewildered by the aftermath of the events.

Not having the time to explain, she called out over to him on her shoulder as she ran, “Ultron got away with the cradle and is trying to upload himself. We have to hurry.”

Steve nodded at the Doctor first to ask if she was good and when she gave him a go-ahead and told him that she was fine, he then matched Wanda’s pace as she explained.

“What happened?” Steve asks.

“Ultron got away with the cradle when we tried to stop him from uploading himself.” She replied as she kept on running.

Technically, she can fly and travel with a portal, but she doesn’t want to reveal that to the others just yet.

“Whose with you?”

“My brother and Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

“Yes, the winter soldier he- ”

Wanda then noticed Ultron splitting from what looked like four container vans speeding away in different directions from the old laboratory.

“No time to explain. Ultron just split up with some container vans. He’s making a diversion.”

She then heard Pietro call out through their mind link. ‘The one I was chasing is a dud! I’m gonna check on the other one.’

“Let’s chase that thing down.” Steve told her and they began to navigate their way towards traffic.

‘Alright. We’ll chase down Ultron.’ She replied to Pietro in the link as Wanda nodded her agreement to Steve.

She doesn’t have any update from Bucky but she can see that he’s chasing one container van as well. He’s jumping on the roofs of the oncoming traffic on the busy highway and he’s almost near it. Wanda hadn’t tried linking her mind with Bucky yet for communication because of his fragile… mind…

‘We?’

‘The Avengers are here.’

After telling that to her brother, she focused on chasing the sentient robot.

If Wanda’s being honest, what’s harder while she’s chasing Ultron down is her keeping herself in check and controlling by not showing anything that could even be seen as menacing. She knows her power… sometimes (more like often) could be a lot…

And it’s just that she doesn’t want to go through anything like that again… others being afraid of her and pulling out the metaphorical pitchforks…

She faintly heard Steve calling over their coms towards Natasha and Clint to focus on locating the regeneration cradle and extracting it as soon as they got it.

They ended up on the same train tracks as last time again, and knowing what Ultron would do, she immediately stopped him and protected the driver of the train and not have it derailed by sending out an energy shield in front of it when Ultron tried to escape.

“Not this time, Ultron.” She called out to him, shaking her head as she swiftly made her way towards him.

Quickly, Wanda reached out to the robot with her magic and removed his function to access the internet. She wouldn’t let him get away this time.

However, Ultron was able to have an advantage. He managed to snatch a kid to be used as hostage. Making Wanda and Steve freeze on their tracks

They have come to an impasse with Wanda and Steve not able to do anything else because of his hostage and Ultron himself unable to escape because of the two stopping him.

“Don’t do this.” Steve tried talking to him, but it was useless.

Ultron didn’t answer, he just looked at him for a moment and turned to Wanda and talked to her instead, “Wanda… you truly disappointed me…”

Then that’s when Wanda thought of a plan. Looking over at Steve, signaling him to trust her on this one.

“I changed my mind.” Wanda began as she walked towards the robot.

“Oh?”

“Let the little girl go and I will come with you.”

“You think I will easily do what you say? I have intelligence exceeding some if not most human beings. You cannot trick me - again.”

Damn it. It worked back in the lab though…

But still, she was able to get close to him and the kid, which is the next thing she’s betting on.

After his reply, Ultron acted, he blasted out one of the train doors. When he was about to take flight with the kid in tow, Wanda quickly took hold of one of the kids' hands and made her phase through Ultron’s hold, hugging her to her side after. The little girl immediately cried and tucked her head in the crook of her neck. Wanda instinctively rubbed her back and comforted her.

Surprised, Ultron looked at Wanda and towards the kid, shaking his head, he prepared to send a blast trained at them but Steve interrupted and threw his shield at him driving him out of the train.

Steve asks her as he sends his shield towards Ultron again. “Can you stop this thing?”

Wanda nodded immediately, still absentmindedly rubbing the back of the little girl crying on her shoulder.

“I’ll lure him away from the civilians. You take care of them.” Steve replied and nodded at the girl that she was holding.

After that, Wanda controlled all the emergency breaks in the train, making it stop safely in its tracks without derailing it.

After opening all the doors to the train’s carriages, she began looking for the parents of the kid that was still in her arms, but in the panic of the other people trying to get off the train quickly, she couldn’t.

Wanda thanked her past self for deciding to learn languages because it is coming in very handy right now.

The girl is speaking to her in Korean, clearly asking for her mom.

She was about to reply to her but she heard a scream of a woman panicking. It only took one look for Wanda to instantly know that she’s the mother of the little girl that she’s holding.

When she pointed the woman to the kid, she immediately called out to the woman. When the woman cast her eyes in their direction. She immediately ran towards them, hysterically crying.

Seeing this, Wanda put down the girl from her hold and she bolted in a flash towards the woman, meeting her halfway. She looked over at them as she saw them being reunited, making Wanda smile softly. She couldn’t help but feel for the woman, because she knew how it felt. The worry, the panic, and the anxiousness of looking for her child and not knowing if they’re safe… The telltale signs of the manic craze in their eyes of not knowing.

The mother and child turned their attention to each other, when the woman saw her, she immediately took hold of her daughter and began to thank her profusely, bowing her head low towards her - to which Wanda kept on replying that they didn’t need while moving away from their bow with a bow of her own. Thinking that she’s not worthy of such a thing.

Unbeknownst to Wanda, the whole scene would be captured and ultimately change the trajectory of the general public’s perception when it came to her.

Wanda’s attention was brought out from the two when she heard the sound of the metal container, which started hovering overhead, just a few blocks away from her left, she then saw that it was being followed by Natasha whose in a motorcycle.

Wanda thinks that she looks cool in it.

However, when she glanced to her other side, she then saw Ultron, about to wreak havoc on some nearby building -  Pietro, Steve, and Bucky trailing after him. With Bucky and Steve, shielding civilians left and right, while Pietro is quickly moving them someplace safe.

Making a decision, she quickly bade goodbye to the mother and daughter and ran after Ultron. Waving her hand as she fixes everything that he’s destroying as she does so - quickly undoing the damage he did.

“Your sister can do all of that?” She heard Bucky exclaim towards Pietro when she managed to catch up with them.

To which her twin replied smugly, “I told you my sister’s the best.”

When she heard that, she couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, “Focus.”

She scanned her surroundings for a bit, making sure that no one was hurt before focusing her attention back on Ultron.

She couldn’t afford any casualties. This fight with Ultron became one of the reasons that pushed the Accords into writing.

“Alright here’s the plan.” Steve started as they trained after the robot. “Clint and Natasha have eyes on the cradle and they’re extracting it now. We must keep Ultron distracted.”

“Got it,” Wanda replied.

“Bucky and… Pietro?” Steve trailed off looking at him in question.

“That’s me.” Pietro nodded, giving him a lopsided smile.

“Focus on moving the civilians to safety,” Steve replied a moment later. “And Wanda, I’ll be your six. Let’s take this thing down.”

With that, they set off on their tasks.

Wanda, forgoing hiding some of her powers, turned to Steve. “Do you have any qualms about being lifted in the air?” Knowing the answer already to her question.

Steve raised his eyebrows at her, “What do you mean?”

“Let’s pinch him in on both sides.”

“I’m in.”

Wanda was about to lift him with her power when Steve suddenly heard Clint’s distressed call for Nat over their coms.

She looked at Steve, who told him to calm down and focus on the objective. On securing the cradle, and moving it to safety.

But Wanda…

Wanda couldn’t stand not knowing if Natasha is safe.

So she turned towards Steve while muttering softly, “I’m really sorry…” She then left him with a confused look forming on his face.

“Pietro, help him!” Wanda called for her twin as she took off the ground, her eyes turning completely scarlet.

Before she even registered what she was doing, Wanda’s magic had already reached for Natasha — as if it knew she was in danger before Wanda herself did.

It didn’t take much effort to locate Natasha. Her magic found Natasha first, as if it always would. She saw her pinned down by the drones firing at her relentlessly from where she was taking cover. She looked like she’d been shot, and there was blood… lots of it…

She landed between the drones and Natasha with a burst of scarlet energy, immediately destroying the drones firing at Natasha. Without thinking much about it, she waved her hands after and turned all the remaining drones into dust.

After she was sure that they were clear, she quickly made her way towards Natasha. There, she found Natasha lying on the ground, bleeding out. She looked like she was out of it.

Wanda’s hands shake as she approaches her, breathing shakily as well.

“Hey,” Natasha softly greeted her but Wanda was panicking at seeing Natasha like this. Because she had never seen Natasha like this. She didn’t have the time to greet her back.

Quickly, she kneeled on the ground near Natasha and hovered her hands over her wounds. She started to remove the bullets before closing her wounds.  For good measure, she sped up Natasha’s healing process knowing that she had the soldier serum in her system.

What is it with her loved ones and bullets? Honestly… Wanda thought exasperatedly.

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, Wanda looked at Natasha who seemed astonished at what she had just seen - blinking owlishly up at her.

“I’ve sped up your healing process,” she told her quietly in explanation, still reeling from seeing Natasha in that state.

Wanda is absentmindedly looking at what looks like a puddle of blood underneath Natasha. She knew that she was okay now - she made sure of it. But she couldn’t help but overthink because of it.

“You can fly?” She heard Natasha’s familiar husky voice break her out of her thoughts.

Hearing Natasha’s unserious remark, Wanda looked at her to check if she was still out of it. But seeing Natasha’s clear gaze, it kind of made Wanda helplessly amused as she realized that Natasha didn’t think too much of her injury - unlike her...

But when Wanda thinks about it, she knows that Natasha didn’t like to show anyone her weakness -and Wanda saw her vulnerable just now.

Deciding not to push Natasha, Wanda stood up and offered her hand to her, and replied to her question.

“Um… yeah…” When Natasha took her offered hand, she began pulling her up. “I guess you could say that…”

Once Natasha was able to stand on her own, she looked up slightly at Wanda with a smirk, “You know, this is the third time that we saw each other, but we haven’t introduced ourselves.”

Wanda couldn’t help but smile, because well, in Natasha’s case, it is true. “I guess, you’re right.”

Finally noticing Clint, whose still hovering over them, Wanda looked up and pointed at the Quin jet. “Let’s get you up there, so you can extract the cradle already.”

“Sure.”

After hearing Natasha’s agreement, she quickly took hold of Natasha and looked at her. “This might feel weird for a bit. Just trust me, okay?”

After that, she flew off with Natasha in her arms and phased through the Quin jet.

Surprising Clint and making him exclaim with their arrival.

Wanda didn’t pay it any mind and told him seriously to put the cradle inside the jet already - making him immediately do so.

Once Wanda knows that Vision’s supposed body is safe with them, she notices Natasha who is still on her hold, looking at her blankly.

Realizing what she just did, and it probably spook Natasha. She immediately stepped away from her, an apology already forming on her lips.

“I’m sorry. I-”

Wanda looked at her feet and then back at Natasha who still had the same blank look on her face. Feeling awkward, she decided to just go before she put her foot in her mouth further.

“I- I’m just gonna go.”

She then gave the two Avengers an awkward smile and phased through the quin jet again.

2015. Seoul, South Korea

May

NATASHA

“What the fuck was that?”

Natasha heard Clint mutter quietly to himself. And Natasha couldn’t agree more. Because, yes, what the fuck just happened?

In a short period of time, Wanda showed valuable skills - pretty unbelievable too.

As soon as she arrived where she was taking cover from the drones, she knew then that Wanda was incredibly powerful with how she took care of the swarms of drones trying to gun Natasha down within a second.

To add to that, she healed Natasha’s gunshot wounds in seconds, one that she’s sure will take weeks to heal on its own. And then, she flew her towards the Quin jet, phasing through its sturdy metal like its just water.

So, yes, she couldn’t blame herself when her ever-unreadable poker face finally broke.

Because- “-what the fuck was that?” She finally voiced her thoughts out loud, unknowingly parroting Clint’s words earlier. Turning towards Clint who have the same expression as hers.

“You tell me?” Clint replied after, his eyebrows raised.

Fixing her face back to neutral, she took her seat in a spare chair in the cockpit behind Clint, whose piloting the jet. “I honestly couldn’t explain what just happened, but I am for sure down on having her in our team.”

Clint smirked but didn’t say anything else, he glanced shortly at her before turning the jet on autopilot, setting the route for it to return to the compound.

“What?” Natasha knows that look.

“Nothing.”

Natasha rolled her eyes at him, punching him lightly at his back. “Stop.”

“Ow!” Clint exclaimed exaggeratedly, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Go cry about it, you big baby.” Natasha replied immediately, rolling her eyes at him again. Knowing that he’s clearly faking it.

She stretched her legs in front of her after a few moments, Natasha couldn’t help but think back on what just happened. If she’s being honest with herself, she couldn’t understand why this woman affected her greatly. No one ever manages to do so - until her.

She knows that Clint noticed that’s why he’s teasing her. She wouldn’t acknowledge it though.

“So you are down to have her on your team,” Clint remarked after a while, clearly not letting Natasha go easily.

Natasha ignored him. He’s enjoying this.

It’s just that… when she thinks back on what happened, despite Wanda’s amazing feats in the short span of time that Natasha’s with her, what occupied her thoughts (enough to distract her and make Clint notice) was the way Wanda easily held her in her arms and just swept her off her feet. Her words in her ear as she tells her to trust her…

Although Wanda’s doing it with Natasha’s safety in mind, Natasha couldn’t help but be bothered that she just let her. Easily too… just like that… If somebody else tries that, she wouldn’t hesitate to break their arm but, with this woman, she has absolutely no qualms about it.

It’s like an automatic reaction or something.

Natasha doesn’t do emotions. As much as possible, she’d like to keep everyone that she knows from a distance.

But frankly, the truth is that she just doesn’t understand it - well, - doesn’t want to understand it to be precise. It’s unfamiliar to her, and she doesn’t like feeling out of her depth.

And just thinking about that something annoys Natasha greatly. Because she doesn’t know how to react. And she doesn’t even know what it is. Not that she has to know because nothing is happening.

Nothing.

Annoyed, by her thoughts, Natasha nudged Clint with her foot - hard this time.

“Ow! That seriously fucking hurts!” Clint exclaimed, rubbing the spot in his back where she kicked her.

Serves him right, for feeding her thoughts where she clearly doesn’t want it to go.

Natasha should have known that the argument with Steve and Tony wouldn’t be the last of it. This annoys Natasha because they’re forgetting what they need to do - Every. Damn. Time.

It’s like there isn't a sentient robot roaming free around the globe right now.

Looking around the others in the Quin jet with her, she can see that they are so over it as well. Well, except for Wanda, who has a pained look on her face.

They’re on their way to South Africa - somewhere in Johannesburg to the old scrap yard that Steve, Bruce, and Tony found Ultron a few days back. Something that, well, Vision, detected. Reported that Ultron is planning for a device to be planted along the coast that would emit a large-scale seismic wave that could cause a tsunami.

Their argument this time is that again, Tony and Bruce acted on their own.

While Steve is still in South Korea, and Natasha and Clint are busy with other things, Tony - with the help of Bruce - uploaded JARVIS in the regeneration cradle that they recovered from Ultron. Not waiting for the others to make a decision.

“Listen Rogers. I'm just trying to fix my mistake.” Tony told him as he waved his hand incessantly. “Let me. I will do anything to make things right.”

Steve looked at him squarely, jaws clenched while shaking his head. “You’re going out of your mind.”

Tony undeterred, tried to convince him again. “He’s the perfect match for Ultron. JARVIS- I mean, Vision, is the key to destroying him and protecting earth. We don’t need to do every fucking thing to protect this planet. Can’t you see that?”

“Why do you insist on having someone or something doing the work for you?”

“And why do you insist on doing everything? Of being the hero? Don’t think I didn’t notice your savior complex.”

“That’s not it.”

“Huh, don’t kid yourself, Rogers. At least when I do something, I don’t sabotage myself for my so-called moral purposes.”

“Is this your plan all along? Replace everyone in the team with robots?”

Their argument was interrupted by Thor who added his thoughts on the matter, but Natasha didn’t stay much longer. She had enough of them already.

Well, she doesn’t really. It’s just that, sometimes, it greatly annoys her why they always butt heads. But at least, even through the arguments, they all stick together. It doesn’t matter how, but they all do.

However, she wouldn’t deny that she needed a break from them from time to time. Like, now.

When she got in the cockpit, she was surprised when she found Wanda staring blankly in front of the control panels.

Sitting down next to her, Natasha asks softly, “What an introduction to the Avengers team huh?”

Wanda gave her a shrug and tried to answer but trailed off after, “Well…”

“I’m sorry about that by the way.” Natasha looked at the panels that were set on autopilot, blinking lightly, she looked back at Wanda.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” Wanda gave her a soft smile this time before continuing. “I- I… it’s getting crowded in there that’s why I went here. I’m not fond of large crowds.”

“Well, you’re in luck, if you want some peace and quiet, you’ve come to the right place. No one’s really fond of driving the Quin jet.” Natasha told her as she folded her arms over herself.

“I know.”

Wanda’s answer struck Natasha as odd, making her turn to look at the woman.

“I- I mean, I figured.” Giving her a shaky nod and a smile.

“I just remembered that we still haven’t properly introduced ourselves to each other.” Natasha jokingly told her while she leaned her elbow on the armrest while craning her neck towards Wanda.

“Oh… yes… I suppose.” Wanda gave her a soft smile and then held out her hand. “Wanda.”

Looking at the outstretched hand, Natasha gave her a smile of her own before taking it. “Natasha.”

She shook it once before taking Wanda’s hand further towards her while smirking, teasing, “-or Natalia if you prefer.”

Clearly referring to the way Wanda addressed her the last time.

After that the both of them just sank back into their respective seats, basking the others' presence in between the silence.

Natasha likes this. The quiet.

It’s… comfortable… yes- comfortable.

“You know…” Wanda let out a sigh and turned her chair facing the horizon to Natasha. “I think this is kind of my fault really…”

“What is?” Natasha asks her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Ultron escaped because of me. If I just followed through with Steve and didn’t leave him, Ultron wouldn’t have escaped and created this plan.” Wanda leaned over her chair and tentatively took hold of Natasha’s hands which she didn’t notice were gripping her armrest tightly.

“I don’t regret it though, I don’t regret saving you.” Wanda squeezed her hand as Natasha looked at their joined hands.

She doesn’t know why but she’s not opposed to this woman’s touch.

Wanda is… like a puzzle. She confuses Natasha greatly. She’s used to doing her own thing - of not needing any help. But why is it that when this woman does something, she wouldn’t mind any of it?

It kind of irks her because this is so not her.

Blinking back, she did what she knew best, she took her hand away from Wanda’s hold and crossed her arms over her chest. She clenched her hand into a fist when she noticed the distinctive loss of warmth.

Natasha offered a weak smile at Wanda - who looked like she didn’t mind, “Thank you for that by the way.”

Wanda smiled back at her before replying, her green eyes intensely looking at her, making Natasha unable to look away.

“Always.

2015. Johannesburg, South Africa 

May

When they arrived in the scrap yard, it didn’t take long for Ultron and his army of drones to attack them.

They immediately divided themselves into their tasks.

Natasha, Thor, Hulk, Vision, and Tony focused on taking him and his drones down. While Wanda, Pietro, Bucky, Clint, and Steve focused on evacuation and protecting the civilians - with Wanda also trying to track where Ultron put his seismic device to destroy it - Vision and Thor were tasked to do it on their side.

It didn’t take long for them to take his drones down. But of course, it wouldn’t be the last of him.

They still have to think of the seismic device that he planted.

“You cannot stop the rebirth,” Ultron told them as he transferred himself to another robot body.

“You’re twisted!” Thor replied, gripping Mjolnir tightly.

“Twisted? You just don’t see the beauty of it.” Ultron began to tell them as he hovered over them

“The world being reborn, the water erasing everything in its tracks! The end -and then, it starts again. The world made clean for the new man to rebuild. I was meant to be new. I was meant to be beautiful. The world would have looked to the sky and seen hope. Seen mercy. Instead, they'll look up in horror because of all of you.” He turned to look at them pointedly, before glaring at Vision.  “And you stole that from me. You've wounded me. I give you full marks for that. But, like our man said, what doesn't kill you... just makes me stronger!"

“Stop twisting my words!” Tony sent a blast toward him that sent Ultron hurtling down the ground.

“Oh, but you made me this way.” Ultron replied as he slowly stood and produced a remote control, making all of them pause.

Natasha’s stomach dropped at seeing it.

A second later, Ultron pressed a button. Not giving them time to react.

“What did you do?” Natasha asks, almost dreading the answer.

“Start the rebirth.”

They felt the earth shook after that. Natasha stumbled for a bit but she kept her focus on Ultron.

“He’s trying to escape!” Natasha told the others. They were about to chase after him when suddenly a familiar scarlet energy landed behind Ultron, her hands covered with scarlet wisps gripping his metallic head, effectively stopping him.

“Where is it?!” Wanda demanded, unaffected by the earthquake that is still happening.

“And why should I tell you?” Ultron grunted, unable to do anything but slowly kneel at Wanda’s force.

Wanda just shook her head in frustration and blinked, when she opened her eyes, the eyes that Natasha knew were green were now covered in scarlet energy.

“Why can you read me?”

“It’s only a matter of time before you show yourself to me.”

Before anyone could react, Ultron made the robotic body that he was currently occupying explode - sending Wanda a few feet back.

“Wanda!” She ran towards where Wanda landed as soon as the earthquake stopped.

“I’m fine but we need to hurry,” Wanda told her urgently as she stood. “We’re at the wrong location this whole time!”

“What?”

Wanda touched the coms to send a message to everyone on the team. “He used this as a distraction! We’re at the wrong site!”

“Damn it!” Natasha heard Tony exclaim in frustration over the coms.

She faintly heard Steve telling them to regroup in the Quin jet and Nick telling them that he was altering the route of the helicarriers as she looked at Wanda who was starting to walk back and forth in front of her in a panic.

“Where is it?” Natasha asks after, holding Wanda’s hand to try and keep her in place.

“Lagos.”

2015. Lagos, Nigeria

May

WANDA

Lagos.

Why does it have to be Lagos?

Wanda couldn’t help but think in frustration.

Lagos is where she first… made a mess… where she first fucked things up. Well- in the general public’s eye at least.

Did she kind of fuck up everything again by going back in time? Is this the price for saving her country? Destroy someone else’s?

If only she hadn’t left Steve and closed in on Ultron, this wouldn’t have happened.

This is her fault.

All. Her. Fault.

Why is it that even though she's trying to fix everything, it still goes wrong?

But she doesn’t regret it though. Never.

It’s just that… everything is getting overwhelming making her feel restless and unable to do anything.

All of a sudden, she felt a hand take hold of her shoulder and steady her, she didn’t realize that she was pacing through the ground.

“Breathe, Wanda.” She heard Natasha tell her.

Looking up from her feet, she found green eyes staring back at her own - which instantly calmed her down.

“Breathe for me.”

Wanda automatically did as she asked, breathing slowly in sync with her.

“Okay… - I’m okay.”

She’s grateful for what Natasha is doing right now because she wouldn’t know what to do otherwise.

“Let’s regroup with the others. We have to hurry.” Natasha wrapped her hands over her shoulder and guided her towards the general direction of the jet.

After taking a deep breath, she finally manages to calm herself down.

She can do this. She has to.

“We only have a few minutes,” Wanda told them as soon as they arrived at the meeting point. “I can open a portal for us there.”

“You can do that?” Clint asked in surprise, while everyone else looked at her agape - except for Pietro of course, he knew already.

Well, she was planning on not letting anyone know of her abilities as long as she could, but apparently, it is getting hard to do so. She’s getting desperate.

“No time to explain,” Wanda waved her hand as she opened a scarlet portal to Lagos. Well, to be fair, she couldn’t open a portal if she didn’t know the place. But Lagos, she wouldn’t forget it easily.

While the others are busy marveling and staring at the portal, Wanda makes the portal go through them. When all of them are through it, she turns to tell them what she saw in Ultron’s artificial mind.

“We have thirty minutes give or take. He already activated the device - the earthquake? That was it. It will emit seismic waves every thirty minutes and it will only get stronger the longer it stays planted - it will create a huge tsunami eventually if it does."

“Don’t forget that we still have to think about the first tidal wave coming after earlier.” Steve reminded the others.

Right after she told Ultron’s plan to the others, they all split off into their teams without missing a beat. Doing the same thing that they did back in Johannesburg.

Wanda, Thor, and Vision worked on destroying the seismic device after finding it - while looking out for the first sign of the tidal wave to try and stop it.

“There!” Wanda exclaimed, pointing to her right. “It’s planted right by the breakwater near the harbor!”

The three of them hovered over what seemed like a giant bolt screwed on top of the ocean ground.

Vision, ever cautious, told the other two, “We need a safe way to tear this down. If we just smash our way through - or do anything recklessly, it could still emit a seismic wave. Which is far more dangerous if it is above the ground.”

“Perhaps, I could overload its electric components with my thunder?” Thor asked the two. “or will it still result the same if I did so?”

“It could be. This device looked very delicate.” Vision replied. “Perhaps deactivating it? I could try it.”

“-or I could deconstruct it. It would be quicker that way.” Wanda told them, adding her thoughts.

The other two quickly agreed with her plan.

She wasn’t sure if she could safely do it underwater. She doesn’t want to cause any long-lasting effects, especially in this city…

“I’ll part the waters first and you two focus on lifting the device slowly.”

With the nod of assent of the others, Wanda began slowly parting the water and created an enforced shield surrounding the device - to give Thor room to work with. While she was holding the shield, Thor went down and focused on gently lifting the device while Vision helped him in lifting with his powers.

Once it was lifted, Wanda immediately deconstructed the device by altering its components and disassembling it to its basic parts. Rendering it completely useless.

The three of them didn’t have time to celebrate when they noticed the wave caused by the first earthquake approach.

“The wave is approaching the harbor!” She heard Thor tell the others through the coms.

“We’re almost done on evac on our side-” Steve replied immediately after. “Romanoff, Stark, how is it on yours?”

“All clear in my area, Cap.” Wanda heard Natasha through the coms. “We’re en route to a helicarrier for evacuation.”

“Tony?”

There was a lull in the coms first before she heard him finally reply to Steve. “I’m kinda in a pinch right now. Junior swarmed me with drones out of nowhere. It’s following me everywhere I go. I need to go to a cleared airspace to override these drones.”

“Copy that. Everyone else who is free, regroup at a vantage point and make sure that the perimeters are clear. If you spot a civilian, take them to one of the helicarriers for evac immediately.”

“Uh, what about the waves? What do we do about it?” Pietro asks, unsure. “I’m at the top of a semi-building by the way. It looks clear on my side as well.”

“Nothing... There’s no stopping a wave that big… let’s just… focus on saving as many civilians as we can and -” Steve replied urgently but Wanda had an idea.

Probably a stupid one. But it wouldn’t hurt to try. So far, everything that she thought of turned out great.

“Hold on, I have something,” Wanda told the others over the coms. “I could try to lessen the impact by creating a barrier, Vision could do it too by enforcing a second one while Thor could evaporate the excess water with his powers as a fail-safe.”

“My sister is so smart everyone. We should do it.” she heard Pietro smugly tell the others which never failed to make her crack a smile.

“That is actually smart and ingenuitive.” Tony replied as he still fought off Ultron’s drones. “Let’s do it.”

“Great thinking Wanda, - after this, we should debrief to create synergies for future references,” Steve replied, his voice sounding at ease now.

“Uh oh, you have to do it now Сестро if you will, the wave is coming near,” Pietro told Wanda. “I have Ultron on sight, he stole a Quin jet, and he’s making his way to one of the heli-things!” Pietro suddenly told everyone. [Serbian/Sokovian: “Sister.”]

Wanda’s stomach dropped when she heard Pietro because this was it. She knows. This was how it happened last time.

Her mind began to have a debate on what she should do. On one hand, she could let an entire city get watered down by a flash flood, - while on the other, she could protect her brother…

She faintly heard Steve replying to Pietro that he was on his way, and Tony telling her to execute the plan now.

But she froze.

She doesn’t know what to do.

She’s broken out of her state when she heard Pietro - not through their coms but with their mind link.

‘I’m okay Wanda! I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll be safe, go do your thing!’

Once she heard her brother, she flew fast toward the general direction of the wave and let scarlet energy spread over, stopping the initial onslaught of the water. But she came a second late making some of the water spill over, immediately crashing onto Vision’s enforced shield. Thor didn’t waste any time and evaporated the water about to spill over Vision’s shield right after.

She didn’t have time to celebrate like the civilians watching, as the three of them waited for the water waves to go down before they could safely remove the barrier. Because right at that same moment, she felt it.

It’s like everything went in slow motion.

And she felt everything that was happening everywhere all at once.

Dreading of what was to come.

She felt her brother look for Clint as they heard Natasha call for him through the coms. She felt him slowly finding Clint busy helping a boy whose trapped underneath the piles of rubble not noticing the Quin jet slowly turning to aim towards him.

She felt Bucky and Steve running towards Clint as well a few meters away from him, about to warn him of what was to come. Even Natasha, Tony, and Hulk as they fight their way through Ultron’s remaining drones.

‘Don’t do anything stupid Pietro!’ She screamed at him through their mind link.

Pietro for his part, gently told her, ‘When did I ever Wanda?’

‘Please, don’t.’ Wanda tried to beg. She can’t do it. She can't do it again. Her mind began involuntarily conjuring images of Pietro’s body with bullet holes.

‘Trust me. I promise I’ll be okay.’

Chapter Text

PIETRO

Time... well, for Pietro, it's a complete drag.

Ever since he acquired his powers, that is all he thinks about. It felt like he was always watching the world in slow motion.

And they're all so… normal. Bound by the same rules, and the same limitations. They experience time in that linear, predictable way.

But him? Not so much.

For him, time is a different thing entirely. A playground. He could zip around, in a second not caring that he’ll be late because he’ll never be. He is the director, watching the world unfold at his own pace. He could see the bullet leaving a gun in slow-motion ballet, its trajectory a predictable path.

But this freedom was its own cage - and he admits that it could be lonely and frustrating. He can see the world in slow motion, but try as he might, he cannot control the passage of time.

He couldn't just be with them. A normal conversation can be quite exasperating. Their words, their thoughts, were sluggish and ponderous. Like they were wading through molasses while he sprinted through the air. Making him feel disconnected like he is always watching from the sidelines, unable to participate in the flow of time fully.

Maybe that’s why he prefers to be on his own most of the time - barring his sister.

Wanda, she gets it. She understands the feeling of being outside of time, of seeing the world differently. They have that connection, that shared experience. Maybe it's a twin thing, that weird perception of time. They’re two sides of the same coin, both operating outside the normal flow.

It was a relief to know that he wasn't alone, that someone else could keep up, someone who didn't require him to slow down.

But then, it changed.

All his thoughts regarding time went out of the window the second that his little sister told him that she traveled back. Because it is a very different thing. He thinks of time as a drag because he is too quick. Always having to be the one to wait for time itself. Of waiting for the right moment.

But with his twin, it’s a complete redo of linear events. She zipped around and rewind it - rewritten it.

For what? Well, he doesn’t know at that time.

But when he looked back on whatever Wanda asked him to work on when they’re training back in HYDRA, - like having this kind of knowledge already, it kind of made sense.

Her sudden changes and her emotional sensitivity spiked through the roof. He didn’t understand then but it’s okay, as long as she’s safe it’s fine by him.

When she finally told him her life from her future, Pietro’s heart broke. He felt a pang of guilt, a familiar ache in his chest. He had always been the reckless one, the impulsive brother. He had sacrificed himself without considering the consequences, the ripple effects that would shatter Wanda's life.

Because he knows that if he’s the one who was in her position, he would also lose it. Of knowing that the only person who can match him and his speed is gone forever. Left alone in an endless drag of seeing everything in slow motion.

So he didn’t think less of her when she told him everything that she did.

How can he? Wanda’s his twin. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He probably would have gone mad too if it happened to him.

But still, he also couldn’t help but admire his sister’s strength. With everything she went through and still coming out on top of it, more powerful than ever.

He watched her from the rooftops as she stopped the giant waves about to fling themselves over the city and couldn’t help but marvel at her sheer power and that’s not even the half of it.

He’d seen it during their training, their escape from HYDRA, and her feats until now. He knows she can do more. But he also knows that she’s… afraid… of being feared by others again. And he understands. He understands that she wants to change everything bad that happened to her in the letter. But it frustrates him a bit for her though, because it limits her.

But he knows that he has to work on this herself. And if what Wanda needs is just him staying, living, and assisting her every step of the way, he would gladly do so.

Of course, that’s what big brothers do.

NATASHA

Natasha had always understood the value of time. Not in some abstract, philosophical sense, but in a visceral, bone-deep way. Time wasn’t a river, or a thief, or any of the poetic metaphors people liked to use. Time was currency. A commodity. And she had learned early on how to trade it, spend it, and sometimes, how to steal it.

From the moment she was taken into the Red Room, time ceased to be hers. It belonged to the program, to Dreykov, to the mission. Every second was accounted for, every minute structured, every hour dedicated to honing her into a weapon. They stole her childhood, her adolescence, and entire chunks of her life, and in return, they gave her skills, training, and a twisted sense of purpose. It was a brutal exchange, a transaction made without her consent.

Later, as an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., time became a strategic resource. Missions were planned down to the millisecond, every second a calculation of risk and reward. Time was used to gather intelligence, to infiltrate, and to execute. It was a tool, wielded with precision and efficiency. She learned to use it against her enemies, to exploit their weaknesses, and to anticipate their moves. Time, in those days, was a weapon in itself.

Joining the Avengers changed things, slightly. There were still missions, still calculations, but there was also something else. Shared meals, quiet moments of camaraderie, stolen hours of laughter. These were things she hadn’t experienced before, moments of genuine connection that felt… precious. Time, in these instances, wasn’t a commodity to be spent, but a gift to be savored.

But even with the Avengers, the concept of time as currency remained. There was always a price to pay. The time spent saving the world was time lost with loved ones, time stolen from a normal life. She remembered one time her conversations with Clint and how he missed an important life event in his family’s life.

Looking back, she thinks that she got it all wrong. It wasn’t just a commodity to be traded or spent. It was finite, precious, and utterly irreplaceable. And sometimes, the only way to truly understand its worth was to run out of it altogether. She had spent her life trying to control time, to manipulate it, to use it to her advantage. And the more she goes toe to toe with death, the more she understands.

It can change from one to another. It could be fleeting, a drag, and it could be an endless eternity of waiting. It is immeasurable, and it has the final say.

WANDA

Time… for Wanda, well, it confuses her now. With her juggling her past memory and comparing it to her present… it’s a lot.

She used to think that time was an endless nothingness, day by day feeling the emptiness, feeling completely alone, slowly driving her insane and just waiting for the end. Constantly asking herself the same question, how can she make these feelings… stop?

Back then, when she looked back and thought about it, there were many days when she just lived for the sake of passing time. For the sake of living on in their memory. But sometimes, when her thoughts steer into the darkest parts of her mind get her, she realizes that she stopped enjoying life a long time ago. Only that she doesn’t have the guts to end things. But in the grand scheme of things, she did finally do it; in the guise of doing something for the greater good - of fixing things that she broke.

Time affected her and it tired her out. It’s just a never-ending story of waiting for it all to end.

But it all changed, however, when she came back in time - impossible as it was, she’s slowly starting to realize that it is different now. Time is an opportunity, it’s something that shouldn’t be wasted.

So she has learned to cherish it. To make every second worth it. Because you’ll never know when the one closest to you will be ripped apart from you.

In hindsight, she realizes now her destructive nature back then - not with her powers - but to herself. She didn’t hurt herself but she didn’t take care of herself either. She was just stuck in limbo with her grief and she didn’t try to get herself out of it. She chose to deny what could clearly be seen and decided to take matters into her own hands to live in her delusions.

Well, now that she has a second chance, she will not take it lightly. She’s still working on it… to remind herself to stay in the present. But at least for now, she’s trying.

That could count as something right?

2015. Lagos

May

PIETRO

The air hung thick with tension.

Pietro watched in disbelief as Ultron descended upon the empty square, his weapons trained on the terrified civilians below. Panic turned the air thick, screams echoing through the chaos.

In the heart of the fray, he saw Clint standing protectively over a young boy he just helped from the pile of rubble, not noticing the Quin jet aiming towards them.

Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity. Pietro saw the glint of sunlight on the jet’s artillery gun, the trajectory of each deadly projectile, the terror in the eyes of the kid, and Clint bracing for the imminent. He felt a surge of adrenaline, a primal urge to protect, to act.

Pietro couldn’t help but think wryly why this is happening. He knew what was supposed to happen. Wanda told him so. It’s kind of ironic that the same thing is happening now. But this time it will be different. He will not die. He will make sure of it.

This time, it wasn't just about survival. He thought of Wanda, her face etched with worry, her voice a constant in his head, telling him to be careful. He couldn't let her down, couldn't leave her alone to face the world without him. He had to stay alive for her. He made a promise.

With a burst of speed, he launched himself into action. The world around him transformed into a mesmerizing ballet of motion. The bullets, fired with deadly precision, seemed to hang suspended in the air, each trajectory a predictable path. He weaved through the chaos, a blur of motion amidst the terrified screams.

He reached Clint and the boy in a whirlwind of movement, his arms a blur of motion as he shielded them from the onslaught. Bullets whizzed past, mere inches from their skin, but Pietro is untouchable, a ghost in the crossfire.

He felt the sting of adrenaline, the exhilaration of the chase, the satisfaction of defying death. He did it. He had saved them.

But the adrenaline rush soon faded, leaving him breathless and shaken. He looked at Clint, his eyes wide with disbelief, and then at the terrified boy clinging to Clint's chest. The world, now returning to its normal pace, seemed strangely muted, the sounds of the city a distant echo.

He had cheated death - his supposed one. This time, something had shifted within him. The thrill of speed, once a constant companion, now felt tinged with a new emotion – fear. He had glimpsed the fragility of life, the preciousness of each moment, and the devastating effect it could cause.

Turning his attention from the two and then towards the robot whose still in the jet, he called for Steve to toss him his shield which he immediately did so without hesitation.

After having it, before anyone could blink, he immediately sent it hurtling towards the jet with terrifying speed, effectively taking it down - along with Ultron inside it.

Shaking off the adrenaline and the fear, He gave Clint and Steve a cocky grin, “You didn’t see that one coming?”

2015. Lagos

May

WANDA

Pietro survived. He’s alive.

Ever since the battle with Ultron ended, that is all she could think about. She went through a rollercoaster of emotions that left her reeling, still trying to process what happened.

When she saw him deciding to stop Ultron and save Clint, her heart completely stopped. The moment that she heard the gunshots, her stomach completely dropped and she almost went sick and threw up all over. The coldness washed over her at the helplessness of what he was about to do.

The staggering feeling of frustration of Wanda having all of the power she needed but still unable to do something with her brother because of doing the so-called greater good, the shame and guilt for thinking selfishly, and the stubbornness of thinking why she should be ashamed.

And then… - the overwhelming relief of knowing - of him being able to dodge the bullets - able to save Clint and the boy with him coming out of it alive. The amazement of not letting Ultron get the upper hand again and used Steve’s shield and hurled it fast at Ultron, effectively destroying him for good.

The helpless annoyance when she saw him casting a cocky grin at Clint and Steve. And the immense respite with the realization that he’s safe, that he’s alive. And the inordinate amount of happiness that she felt knowing that she finally changed something. That she did something, - something right for once.

She felt everything everywhere all at once and it was borderline staggering. So she cried, she didn’t care if Thor and Vision cast her weird and concerned looks. Well, she admits that it may look weird - well it does look weird if she thinks about it, with her still barring the flood from devastating the city.

Once she was sure that the water wouldn’t wash over the city, she let the shield down and went immediately to her brother - almost rivaling his speed.

Once she saw him, she immediately held him into a tight hug, and then not a moment after, she began lightly slapping his arms in frustration.

“Do. Not. Do. That. Again.” Her words were accompanied by repeated slaps that Pietro understood she needed to let out and just took the hit.

Her slaps to his arms were finally stopped when Pietro finally gathered her into his arms. She didn’t realize that she was crying again.

“Is she alright?”

She heard Natasha from her left ask Pietro, her voice colored with concern.

Before Pietro could answer her, she got out of his embrace and turned toward Natasha, giving her a small smile.

“I’m fine. It’s just that it got a little overwhelming for me.” Wanda composed herself and found the others minus Tony and Steve who were busy coordinating logistics with Nick and Maria.

“My powers can be overwhelming sometimes…” Wanda gave them a small smile each and took a deep breath before explaining further. “-because I can kind of feel everything...”

She trailed off before she could finish, feeling awkward. Thankfully, the others didn’t mind much and just let her be.

Well, except for Natasha.

She stayed behind with her and Pietro while the others went to Nick to check for anything else to do.

“Something tells me that that’s not all of it,” Natasha told the two of them lightly, not pushing for anything.

Pietro gave her a shrug and glanced at Wanda. “I’ll let my sister explain.”

“Oh, I wasn’t really expecting answers.” Natasha looked at the two of them before letting her gaze stay at Wanda. “Just making an observation.”

“I know,” Wanda replied, giving her a small smile in return, holding Natasha’s gaze as she asked. “How about later?”

“If you want.”

“I feel like something is forming here so I’ll just leave you be.” She heard Pietro tell them before leaving the two of them, when Wanda realized what he said, she sputtered out in confusion and attempted in denial.

Because nothing is going on. Right?

Natasha is a friend. A friend that she’s glad to be in her presence again. Wanda shook off whatever Pietro insinuated and laughed it off. It’s probably just him teasing her to get her mind off of her thoughts earlier.

She looked at Natasha again  - who for her part, looked unfazed; which is not surprising if Wanda thinks about it - and gave her a sheepish smile. “He’s just teasing. Don't mind him.”

Natasha gave her a smirk and folded her arms with herself. “Oh, I totally don’t mind.”

But she does…

If Wanda isn’t looking, she would miss the signs that she’s nervous, that Natasha clenched her hands into fists while hiding her thoughts behind self-assured smirks. But she is looking at her because she knows Natasha. She knows her. Well, she guesses there are some advantages to redoing her life then.

But it’s strange, how come she’s making her nervous? She hadn’t done anything bad.

Right?

Confused, Wanda just settled to shrug it all off and asked as she craned her neck towards the others, “I could help the others back, I think I’m good. You want to come with?”

“Of course.”

2015. New York

June

NATASHA

A month has passed after the battle with Ultron. And a lot has changed too.

For starters, Thor went back to Asgard saying that he needed to focus on looking up on the infinity stones. With the increasing appearance of these stones, he needs to look into it further. Stating that he’ll provide updates if he has info. Bruce joined him, not stating his reasons.

Clint announced his retirement as soon as they got back in the compound. Stating that he’s done with the gig and wants to focus on his family and running his farm. No one has any objections with it especially when he was almost on the brink of death if not for Pietro saving him.

Tony followed his steps, joking that maybe he should do the farm gig thing as well. But all of them knew he couldn’t let his gadgets go so that would be impossible - to which he argued that he could make a modern farm or something.

Instead, he said he would focus on his company for a while. And do some damage control while at it. For him and the Avengers - but mostly him. The general public found out that Ultron is an AI created by him, mostly they thought that the rest of the Avengers did the cleanup for him.

Natasha gives him credit for it. Taking the fall - well, because it is his fault anyway. Well, she guessed it would be him taking accountability in his own way. Not that there is a serious negative rep when she thinks about it.

But if Natasha is being honest, all the bad rep that they should be facing were negated by Wanda’s efforts; mostly with her undoing infrastructure damages with a wave of her hand - which she is still pretty amazed about really.

She honestly couldn’t believe how powerful the woman was. It’s such a shame when Fury mentioned that she wouldn’t be joining the team officially along with her brother. Stating that if the Avengers need any help, they will be there, but it wouldn’t be their priority right now. But she would see about that, Nick is still trying to convince Wanda in that regard. Pietro looked like he was on board and was just waiting for Wanda to agree. They promised that they would visit from time to time though, so there’s still some room to convince them if needed.

Natasha thinks that it is kind of a shame really, because logically, they are a great addition to the team. And well, if Wanda joined, she wouldn’t be the only female in the group. Especially now that Clint is retiring, she doesn’t have someone who she’s close to.

For Bucky, well, he is a different thing. With his past actions, He took a deal with Fury to act as his handler to do unpaid community work, treatment, and residency. In translation, he’s required to do Avenger’s work whenever he’s needed, undergo a mandatory mental health treatment, and be on house arrest. He could still go out whenever and wherever he wanted as long as he was accompanied by someone who would vouch for him - to which Steve did so without hesitation.

Sam joined them as an Avenger along with Rhodes and Vision. With Natasha and Steve creating a routine for them - including Bucky - to train and improve themselves.

Speaking of training, Wanda and Pietro sometimes join them - mostly whenever Fury requests them to so they can create synergies that would fit the team. Personally, Natasha thinks that it’s just Nick conspiring to get them to slowly join the team. But it’s fine. Those are the days that she looks forward to. She wouldn’t tell a soul about it though.

All in all, the outcome after Ultron turned out good, she almost thought that their routine would stick - well, until, the Accords were dropped on their compound that is.

2015. New York

June

WANDA

Wanda didn’t know why they stayed up late in the compound. They aren’t even Avengers for God’s sake. Well she knows what Nick is doing, she’s not that blind. Is it wrong to feel like she’s a part of a team again without the grudges at the start?

They finished team training in the afternoon but Wanda is still debating if she should create a portal for her and her brother and head back to Sokovia. They’re still living in the shelter. But it is increasingly becoming difficult. With her and Pietro’s face alongside the Avengers in the news with their feats. She’s beginning to think if they should move.

Going back, Wanda is currently walking with Pietro in the compound with her essentially giving him a tour. Right now they’re in the gardens near the apartments of the team. She’s showing him the vast displays of flowers planted in it.

‘Where were you usually?’ She heard Pietro ask her through their mind link.

‘In my room.’

‘In a place this big? You would prefer to stay in your room? Why would you-’ Pietro exclaimed and was about to ask her questions but one look from her immediately shut his mouth as he realized. ‘-right, sorry.’

Wanda shook her head at him and gave him a gentle nudge as she put her hands on her jacket. ‘It’s fine.’

Wanda was about to show him the public kitchens where she passed her time next, either by cooking, baking, or just making herself some tea in the ungodly hours of the night, when she heard Natasha talking to the both of them.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re communicating telepathically with how quiet you two are most of the time.”

She looked over to her left to find Natasha leaning over in one of the counters with a cup of coffee in hand. She looked like she’s about to go out, all dressed up, she’s dressed in a black leather jacket and boots paired with black jeans and a band tee. Wanda thinks that she looked good.

Before she could reply, Pietro and his loose lips beat her to it.

“How did you know?”

Wanda smacked herself in the face at how gullible his brother could be sometimes. It’s painfully obvious that Natasha’s baiting them.

Wanda looked at Pietro who had a sheepish expression and back to Natasha who now has a smirk on her face.

“I guess that’s one of the things we should work on Pietro.” Natasha told him as she took a sip from her coffee cup.

“Wait, you wouldn’t ask or push?” Pietro asks her again, walking near the bar stool where she is. Wanda followed after him without thinking much about it, she was kind of curious about Natasha’s response.

Green eyes looked up directly at Wanda. Wanda held her gaze as Natasha took her time drinking her coffee before answering. “I guess it doesn’t matter to me. We’re a team. I trust that in time, you can trust us to confide to one of us here.”

“It’s just that,” Wanda began to explain while she took a bowl of strawberries from the fridge just so she could have herself do something, “My powers… it can be a lot.” she sat across the woman in one of the bar stools after her reply.

Natasha crossed one of her arms over the table while still holding onto her cup. “And?” She prompted curiously, eyebrows raised. “I don’t see you having any qualms with Pietro.” She added.

“It’s different, He’s my literal twin. He knows everything.” Wanda twisted the rings on her finger because of nerves. “And my… powers… sometimes, it could be… terrifying?” she finished while waving her hand around, not having the words at that moment to explain it properly.

Curious, Natasha sat down her coffee cup on the counter and looked at Wanda as she tilted her head. “How do you say so?”

“It’s just that… I don’t want to be seen as a mon-” monster… Wanda trailed off and averted her eyes from Natasha before changing entirely what she was saying to her, “- whatever I think of, it happens.”

Wanda knows that Natasha noticed her slip but she doesn’t want to delve into it. So she just continued. “That makes me dangerous.”

“I don’t think so.” Natasha simply replied a second later, disagreeing with what she said.

Wanda looked around and finally noticed that it was just the two of them in the kitchen. Pietro left her again with Natasha. She doesn’t know why his brother keeps on doing this whenever they come to visit the compound.

She turned her attention back to her and shrugged and didn’t reply for a bit, not believing her words.

She begins to let out a sigh, thinking that what she’s about to do is stupid. But it would be easier to show Natasha. She let a scarlet haze appear in her eyes, still looking at her. Trying to look intimidating.

“Picture this. One of my abilities is telepathy.” Wanda stressed her words while craning her neck as she got closer to Natasha whose now leaning over the counter, her coffee forgotten. “I can bring out their worst nightmare, hypnotize whomever I want, manipulate them against their own will, and use them however I want. Doesn’t that make me a threat?”

Wanda doesn’t know why she’s saying these things to Natasha. She wanted to get her trust and befriend her all over again. Not scare her away. But she needs her to know how dangerous she could be.

“Gosh little witch,” Natasha replied with an amused smirk, meeting Wanda’s gaze and not looking away from it. “I asked how you can think that you’re a threat. Not try to seduce me, but ok.”

Hearing Natasha’s words, the scarlet haze in her eyes immediately went away - leaving only the deep green that she had, her cheeks suddenly flushed while she sputtered, reeling at what Natasa said.

“What?! I-I- I don’t- What?!”

But, is it working?

Wanda quickly shook her head to get rid herself of those thoughts because where the hell did that come from?

“Relax милая,” Natasha told her with a quiet laugh while going around the counter towards Wanda, leaning against it once she was near her. She took a strawberry from Wanda’s bowl after and gave her a wink as she bit on it, still teasing her. “I’m just messing with you.” [Russian: Darling.]

Wanda was still not able to form words because she was incredibly surprised. She had seen Natasha tease the guys for fun back then but she never really expected that she’ll get to experience it until now. She kind of understood now why guys were sometimes left in a bumbling mess with just a quirk of her eyebrow. And why is Natasha teasing her anyway? It’s… distracting… -yes, distracting.

“In all seriousness, I don’t think that you are, really. Just because you have all these powers, it doesn’t mean that you’re bad.” She heard Natasha after a while. “In the end, it’s all on how you use it, don’t you think?”

Wanda finally let herself look back at Natasha, when she can finally feel that she’s normal and the red in her cheeks were somewhat gone. She didn’t notice that she’s close to her side now and not across from her. “What if I’m selfish? Greedy?” She asks in a whisper, not really intending her to answer her question.

“Then you just need someone to keep you in check, I guess.” Natasha shrugs. “Besides, I think you can allow yourself to be sometimes. Nobody’s perfect. I’d like to think that everyone is sometimes.”

“Will you… keep me in check?” Wanda asks her tentatively and immediately tried to retract her words, “-I mean Pietro will too but I-”

Natasha didn’t let her finish and put her hand in her shoulder before squeezing it to comfort her. “If that puts you at ease, sure, Wanda. But I don’t think I would need to.”  

Upon hearing her words, Wanda smiled softly, “Thanks, Nat.”

Being like this, it kind of feels like being with Natasha back then. She remember asking Natasha the same question and her answering her with the exact same thing back when she’s depressing over what happened in Lagos. It’s funny to think that whatever happens before is still happening now.

“So, you still don’t have plans to join us?” Natasha shifted away and jokingly asks Wanda.

Wanda let out a light laugh and shrugs. Not really knowing how to reply to that.

At this point, it have been a running joke between the team that they’re part of the team already just not in name. They still don’t know why she don’t want to join though.

“Genuine question,” Natasha starts as she took her coffee cup again, rubbing her thumbs over the rim before continuing. “why don’t you want to?”

Wanda looked at Natasha thinking if she should really answer the question or not. Debating if she should answer Natasha truthfully. That she doesn’t deserve to be one because she was bad. Instead, she settled for the next thing, “It might be an overkill but I guess I’m just worried for my brother’s safety and well, I don’t really think I deserve to be one?”

“That’s fair, I guess.” Natasha nodded in agreement. “But you know what I think?”

“What?”

“Everybody has guilt in them…” Natasha looked at Wanda before shrugging. “You just have to work around it and always think of doing the right thing. To pay back the reds in your ledger…”

After that, the two were left in silence. Leaving Wanda with enough time to observe Natasha. She noticed her bowl that she had forgotten during their conversation and took it to have something to do.

She turned to Natasha and offered her one, she looked like she’s contemplating before noticing Wanda’s offer. Once she noticed, she took a few and leaned closer to Wanda. Wanda can practically feel her near but she she didn’t mind. She thinks that it’s quite pleasant actually.

“I have a sister you know.” Natasha told her softly.

When she heard Natasha, she couldn’t help but quickly look up from her bowl because she is surprised. Shocked even. Well, she already knew that she has a sister from their late night talks back in her last life but she was only able to tell that to her because they were pissed drunk. Right when they were accidentally bonding over their traumas one late night before the Accords happened. She didn’t expect that she would tell that to anyone else if she’s not completely inebriated and downright miserable.

And right now, she is not either of the two. At least she thinks so…

Suddenly concerned, Wanda looked at Natasha’s eyes intently, looking for signs that she could be sad. Seeing neither, she asks her, “You do?”

“Well, I hadn’t really told anyone else here in the team - not even Clint - but yes, I do.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

“Yelena? I have no clue. When I defected, I… have no idea of her whereabouts… I tried to look for her, but it seemed like she just vanished. But I’d like to think that she’s just living a normal life. Away from all the bad things…”

Wanda wanted to reply and try to offer sympathy but she knew that that’s not what Natasha really wanted. And she doesn’t really have any words that could comfort her right now, without looking like she’s being insensitive. So, instead, she just settled to not say anything. She took a step closer towards Natasha to the point that their sides are touching and without giving it much thought, she gently took hold of the side of Natasha's head and pushed it to rest on her shoulder. Silently telling her that she has her to lean on.

She expected Natasha to resist and step away from her - well, because that’s just how Natasha is - but to her surprise, she stayed. She stayed and let her head rest on her shoulder. Wanda admits that the feeling is nice.

They stayed like that for a while, with the two of them quietly basking in each other’s presence before Natasha broke it once again.

“You know, I was the one who taught her how to ride a bike.”

She sounded like she’s just telling a normal thing, but to Wanda, it felt like she’s getting in her emotions. She tilted her head and rested her head over lightly over Natasha’s.

“It sounds like you are a great sister.”

“I guess so…” Natasha tapped Wanda’s hand to warn her before leaning away from her. Creating space between them. “- it took us weeks actually for her to get it down. We didn’t really have any progress even when I took the training wheels off. It was then I realized that she’s not learning much because I was worried that she’ll get hurt. I didn’t let go of her and I was with her every step that she tried to pedal. She finally learned how to ride one when I decided to stay behind her and just be prepared to catch her in case she falls.”

Sensing that she’s not finished, Wanda just stared at her expectantly.

“If I hadn’t let go, she wouldn’t have learned to ride a bike.” Natasha then met her eyes and held her steadily. “Well, my point is, if you won’t let Pietro be, how else will he learn?”

Wanda realizes what she’s getting at and if she’s being honest, she never thought of it that way. Sure she’s keeping her brother safe. But she realizes that she’s doing it to the point that she’s smothering him as well. She kind of feel guilty now but she couldn’t really tell Natasha where she’s coming from. It’s one thing to tell Pietro that she went back in time, but it could be potentially dangerous to tell anybody else.

“I guess you’re right.” Wanda gave Natasha a shaky smile, too overcome with emotions.

Natasha suddenly turned and took a step away from her and dumped the remaining coffee in her mug in the sink. She turned the faucet and began to wash her mug. “So, did I somehow convince you to join our team? We might not be ex-HYDRA prisoners, but we’re a bunch of misfits that work.”

Wanda let out a laugh at Natasha mentioning Pietro’s running joke as a reason before why they can’t join the team. She followed after her and took her bowl as well to wash, as if on sync, Natasha took it from her hand and swapped it with the mug she’s done washing. Wanda automatically took a towel nearby to dry it.

Once Natasha’s done washing, Wanda took her hand and dried it as well with the towel that she’s holding, not thinking much of it.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.” Wanda is suddenly alerted by a voice that she doesn’t recognize and have no idea where its coming from. All the hairs in the back of her neck suddenly stood up, sensing immediate danger.

Something’s wrong.

When she looked around, she realized that everything had… stopped.

The ticking of the clock in the microwave oven, the droplets of water from the faucet that Natasha just closed stopping mid fall, the towel that Wanda tossed to the side after she’s done drying Natasha’s hands hanging mid air, and Natasha watching her curiously with a quirk in her lips as she did so.

Everything stopped except her.

Wanda immediately sent waves of scarlet energy to sense out whomever is doing this. She have a feeling that this wouldn’t be easy.

“No need to waste your energy, I’m right here.” After hearing that, Wanda found a man dressed in a navy suit and tie whose seating at the head of the dining table just a couple steps away from her and Natasha. He’s leaning back from the chair with both feet resting on the table. He looked like he’s holding onto something, it looked like a tablet or whatever device it is.

Putting herself in between Natasha and the man, she asks, “Who are you and what do you want?” Her eyes beginning to become a shade of red.

“No need to be aggressive Miss Wanda Maximoff,” The man stood up from his seat and began to slowly make his way towards the two. “I just came here to have a look at you. An inspection if you will.”

“You still did not answer my question.” Raising her hands and letting scarlet enery dance through her fingertips.

“Well, if you must know.” He began to rearrange the trilby from his head and straightened his tie. “The name’s Victor Kang, well, Victor Timely here in this universe if you prefer.”

With his name not ringing a bell, Wanda repeated her question, her jaws clenching, very much aware that she’s the only one between this person and Natasha. “What do you want?”

“You’re a hard woman to find you know.” Victor remarked as he took out a device and began on tapping on it.

“What are you doing? Did someone sent you?” Wanda demanded, trying to keep herself calm.

“So many questions.” Victor quipped as he look up from his tablet. “We have a lot to talk about Miss Maximoff. Especially with you going back in time.” Pointing at her as he replied.

When Wanda heard his words, her hands shook, because how did he know?

“W-what?” She heard herself asking. Wanda can feel the cold begin to wash over her.

“You didn’t think it would be that simple did you?” Victor sat himself down on the bar stool that Wanda was occupying earlier. Still tapping away at the tablet that he’s holding.

Wanda thought wrong. She thought that discovering that one last copy of the Darkhold managed to survive was the ball dropping on her.

Apparently, it would be worse.

What now? Will he take her back to her  supposed present? That would be one cruel reality check.

But who is he anyway? If he did try to bring her back, it would take her own life for her to make her do so. She finally have the jumpstart to redo her life.

“What do you want from me?” Wanda tried to keep her voice firm, but it’s getting shaky by the minute.

“Oh, don’t worry about yourself too much.” Victor sat his device on the counter and went for the coffee maker, getting himself a cup. “Relax, will you?”

“Just answer the fucking question!” Wanda’s stress is getting to her and her powers is starting to fizzle out. But she remembered, Natasha behind her, she couldn’t hurt her because of this.

Holding his hands up in surrender, he backed up from the coffee maker and picked his tablet again. “So we’ll go straight to it I see,” After finding what he’s looking for, he looked at Wanda, while gesturing for the device that he’s holding. “I am the head of the Time Variance Authority, TVA if you will. And this, is a Tempad. It is used to travel back in time, well, even travel through the multiverse with this at any time. To make it simpler, this is a tool used to make sure that everything is in order. That every event is in its place.”

Wanda’s fist shook with rage now, her apprehension with the whole thing almost forgotten. Because she knew what he’s digging into. She did tried to steal a kid’s powers with similar function. But she calmed herself down, she have to think this through. She didn’t reply and just let him continue.

“But here’s the strange thing. From what I can tell by my calculations, this universe should have been on its road to a multiversal war, and about to experience an incursion. But then, it all stopped.”

Wanda still not letting her guard down, “What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, for starters, it’s because you rewind the time. I’m still investigating on how it came about but I know that it was the same time when you destroyed the Darkhold in that mountains. And that leads me to here.”

“What? A-are you going to reverse it?”

“That’s the thing, no one has ever done that feat. Travel back and forth in time sure, even put it on loop, yes. Almost everyone has done that anyway. But you? You did it differently. Technically, you did not travel back in time. You rewind time itself. Undoing everything that has happened.”

“How come nobody remembers except for you?” and the mind stone but she doesn’t really want to tell that to a man she just met.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t really supposed to. I was working here blindly and I just had a hunch and your reaction just now pretty much confirmed it for me.” Victor then tapped away in his Tempad and turned to Wanda shortly after.

Wanda cursed herself, she can’t believe she fell for his act. Shaking her head to stay focused, she nodded at him after to make him continue.

“If you’re gonna take me back, just do it.” Wanda told him, suddenly feeling defeated.

“Weren’t you listening Scarlet Witch?”

Wanda got annoyed by how he called her, but she didn’t let it make her lash out. She’s better than that.

“There’s no time for you and everyone else to go back to because you rewind it back. Rewriting the same timeline? What a feat I must say.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

“Well, to simply put, I’m just here to lecture you. The dangers of changing the timeline and what has been set,” Victor sensing that Wanda isn’t that worked up that much, continued on getting a cup of coffee like he intended to earlier. “- you know, all that jazz.”

“How do you know what has been set?” Wanda not letting his gaze stray away from him as he walked around the kitchen, always staying between him and Natasha. She then realized something. “The Ultron Imperative, is that you?”

Victor laughed at her question, “You think highly of me, but no. You're smart for thinking that you can stop Ultron and avoid the battle altogether when you destroy the HYDRA base that Ultron was supposed to take over in Sokovia, but you must know that everything has been set. I didn’t even have to do anything to set it right. Because whatever is set to happen, will still happen. And you can’t change that.”

“What do you know?!” Wanda again got riled up, slowly getting annoyed by this man’s cryptic answers.

“Calm down, I'm not your enemy. I only know as much as you do.” Victor gave her a pointed look at that, making her understand that he’s talking about the events that will happen.

“What about my brother? Vision? Natasha? You s-said that what is set to h-happen will happen.” she shakily asks through her agitation and trepidation.

“That’s just a tiny speck of detail in the grand scheme of things. It’s not really a fixed event in the multiverse, when I think about it. It just so happened that in your universe, they died.” Victor replied a matter of factly, waving her off, as if what he’s saying did not just make Wanda shake in absolute rage.

“Do not think of their death lightly! Like it was just a normal Tuesday to you! It was fucking trauma to me!” Wanda finally let her powers flare, scarlet energy about to throttle him. She stopped herself at the last second when she realized what she’s about to do.

Victor looked at her unaffected by her actions, but still slightly wary, “I’m just trying to do my job here Scarlet Witch. I’m still trying to figure out of what this is actually. I’m not bound by emotions like you. Besides, you changed it already, no? At least you’re on your way to it.”

Wanda just looked at him, still reeling from what he was saying. Breathing deeply and trying to calm herself down.

After a while, Victor continued, raising his eyebrows as he took a sip from his cup of coffee. “Now, are you ready to listen? I know you have questions but I do too.”

With a jerk, Wanda nodded.

Victor gestured for Wanda to sit across him in the counter but Wanda shook her head.

“I’d like to stay here, thanks.” Wanda quickly told him in turn after.

Victor shook his head in amusement as he deliberately trained his gaze through Wanda, right at Natasha and then back at her. “So protective aren’t you? What about Vision?”

Not wanting to hear anymore of his taunts, she let her powers flare up again. “Just fucking get right to it.”

“I hit a nerve didn’t I?” He said with a laugh, “-anyway, I’m simply here to look out for you and give you a warning - and fix some tiny details if you will. Be careful Wanda, its too early in the timeline for you to cause an incursion.”

“Is that a threat?”

“If you do everything right, you don't need to worry.”

Wanda having enough of his games, let out. “Stop being so overly cryptic!”

“But you’re the one who doesn’t listen.” Victor raised his eyebrows at her, as if trying to make something out of her. “I already told you that you’re letting your emotions take control of you. You need to work on that by the way.”

Wanda didn’t say anything after that because well, he is right. But who can blame her?

“Usually, the go to lecture regarding this things is that the timeline is not to be messed with. As you could create a paradox. But like I said, you did not go back in time. You rewind time itself. So you could say this is a first for me too. Apologies if this is all over the place as well. So you can think of this as just me… giving you a reminder - and maybe acting as an inspector from time to time. I still have to make sure that the flow of events is followed.”

“What?? That’s it?” Wanda didn’t really believe him even for half a second. “You do realize that I have knowledge of the future now right? I can change everything and save everyone.”

“Well, for starters, I wanna see the effect of the bona fide Scarlet witch. You've changed so much things already. You do realize that the future will change because of it right? If you save people? Then fine. Less work for some - or more... As long as you do not interfere what has been set.”

“And what is that? How do I know if I'm interfering on these events?” Wanda’s mind raced with all the new information.

Victor chuckled as he stood up from where he’s sitting and began to make his way towards Wanda.

“You have much to learn then, no? In some versions he lives, in others you do. None of them last. You Maximoffs are always on borrowed time.”

“What's your point?”

“Well, it has never been set in the sacred timeline that a Maximoff twin will or will not survive the battle with Ultron - that’s why I’m letting what you did go actually. In every timeline that I encountered, it has always been either you or him. I'm quite curious of what will happen if you both survived. And here we are.”

“Stop distracting me! I can’t help but feel like you're just toying with me. Don't treat this like its some kind of game! Some kind of script you've written that we just have to follow! You know damn well that I will save everyone that I care about, and you expect me to believe that you won’t stop me?” Wanda took a step towards him, still mindful of Natasha defenseless behind her.

“But my dear, I am not.” Still not paying in mind Wanda’s sudden outburst although a bit apprehensive as she got near him.

“What’s the catch? There must be a trick. I don’t believe that it will be that easy. You'll just let me go? Just like that? So, what is it? You’re helping me?” Wanda asked him in disbelief.

“Oh, do not misunderstood Scarlet Witch, I am not. You have to be mindful of the events of the timeline.” He set his cup of coffee in the counter and looked at her pointedly, “If you put your toe out of line…” he trailed off, and continued a second after with a shrug. “Besides, you can’t interfere with the events that has been set. Whatever is supposed to happen, will happen. The TVA makes sure of it."

“Then why aren’t you after me? Didn’t I already change things?” Victor’s obscure words are confusing her more.

Maybe he’s doing it on purpose? Wanda doesn’t know what to do anymore. She really thought that this is it. That she has a chance to change things.

What the fuck is going on?

Victor shrugs, not really explaining himself which frustrates Wanda further. “As busy as I am, but I’m here am I not? I can’t believe that you still have no idea of the sheer magnitude of your power Scarlet Witch. You have so much potential. And I hope you live up to that. But I will be looking at what you do. Trust me on this one, will you?”

Wanda didn’t have any reply to that. She doesn’t know what to think anymore. Because she knows that he’s not saying everything, she can feel it. What if she-

Victor tapped his tempad again and paused for a bit before continuing, “My thoughts are not available to you dear, prepared for it before I came here. I thought you were above that already.” Looking up at Wanda with eyebrows raised, not really taking what she did in offense.

Wanda didn’t apologize. “So now what? You’ll just let me go?”

“I already told you, didn’t I? As long as you keep your toe in line, I don’t have qualms about it.” Victor replied and looked up at her. “Besides, don’t you have things to worry about? The Accords is in writing you know? And if I were you, I would need all the help I can get.”

“The Accords? What help? But I thought that…” Wanda trailed off. She really thought that she stopped it… didn’t she stop every possible cause for it?

Why is it that everything she’s doing is somehow becoming all for nothing?

“Like I said, whatever is supposed to happen, will happen.” Victor explained.

But still,she comforted herself with the fact that the death’s of Pietro, Vision, and Natasha isn’t set. She has to believe him on that. Even if she didn’t really know him. Otherwise, she thinks that she’ll lose her mind.

But what if he’s lying?

She doesn’t know what to think anymore. What should she do?

“Now, Scarlet Witch, I think I overstayed my welcome, yeah? And you still have a LOT to do. Remember that I got my eyes on you.”

With his parting words, she saw him press a button in his tempad, making him disappear completely.

After that, time resumed as normal.  And she’s left there, still reeling from what she had learned. Because what is going on? He somehow told her everything but also nothing. It’s confusing her that she’s about to go into a spiral. Should she talk to Pietro about what happened?

“Wanda?”

She heard Natasha’s husky voice bring her out of her thoughts. Composing herself, she found Natasha in the same place where she stood before her conversation with Victor, looking at her unsurely.

“Are you okay?”

“I-I- I…” Wanda doesn’t know what to say. Hell, she doesn’t even know what to do at this point.

Breathing shakily, she decided to make a decision. Maybe, this time, it would be better to not go against the current. She realizes that this is one of the things Victor is referring to.

“Do you think Pietro and I can take the spots in your team if that’s still available?” Wanda tried to smile at Natasha, trying to hide from her that her brain was going through a meltdown.

“Yes... are you okay?”

Natasha’s words echoed through her, not sinking in.

Wanda gave her a shaky smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Wanda realizes that maybe… she shouldn’t fight this. Maybe joining the Avengers has always been in her cards. And maybe, she’ll get all the help that she can have. It doesn’t make her worry any less though. She wonders what she could and couldn’t change. Will it matter?

But comparing her life then and now, this is much better. No metaphorical pitchforks out to get her, the others holding no contempt for her, and Pietro’s alive. Maybe it would be enough. She just has to go through it day by day.

Chapter Text

2015. Avengers Compound, New York

October

WANDA

Four months have passed since they joined the Avengers. It didn’t take long for them to move compared to what Wanda initially thought. She expected eight months at the least up to how many years to get their papers done for them so they could move and reside in the compound in New York, but surprisingly, having powers along with its positive rep has its perks for a start. Or maybe it's just Fury and Stark working together to make things run faster.

Either way, Wanda knows that these things have a catch. She thought back on the Accords back in her last life, on how they denied granting her visa and residency because she wouldn’t sign. Thankfully nothing like that happened this time. She’s still waiting for the other ball to drop though, because, of course, there always is.

“So, how does it really work?” Sam asks Pietro and Wanda during their training. Currently, they’re outdoors on a running track for a change of scenery. “You said that your phasing through walls is different from hers,” He pointed at Pietro and then at Wanda right after. “But I don’t see any difference.”

Pietro shrugs as he stretches himself. Wanda fell into step with her brother and began to take a stretch as well.

“For starters, what I do is different. I have the ability to control the quantum state of every particle in my body with my powers, allowing me to phase through anything.” Pietro starts and then nods his head towards Wanda. “Hers is entirely different. She changes the material itself so that she can phase through. If you think about it closely, Vision and I kind of do the same thing.”

“Uh… I need you to explain that to me like I’m five to understand the context please.” Sam grimaced as he looked at the two of them. “Dumb it down for me please.”

Wanda smiled and laughed lightly before explaining to him. “In simple terms, he changes his body using his powers so he can phase through and I change the objects that I go through using mine. Although technically, I can do both, it’s just less work for me that way.”

“Oh, now I get it.” Sam slapped his thigh and fell into laughter with Wanda. “Why’d you not say it like that in the first place.”

“Don’t blame me,” Pietro raised his arms in surrender while laughing as well. “I literally have to have that ingrained in my brain before I fully get the process when Wanda was teaching me things. It became an automatic response at this point.”

“That makes sense I guess.” Sam smirks and nods towards Wanda. “Because I would expect that explanation from Witchy here not from you.”

“Hey!” Pietro exclaimed in mock offense.

Wanda let the two of them talk and continued silently in her stretch. After a minute, Bucky arrived and immediately followed what they were doing.

“How did you discover that you can do that?” Bucky this time asks as he joins them.

“You’re still stretching your metal arm?” Sam asks Bucky in amusement, pointing and laughing loudly as he asks. Completely shifting the topic from the Twins to Bucky.

“Would you like me to stretch it into your face?” Bucky snarked back, still stretching.

Wanda shouldn’t have laughed at that but she did. Loudly.

“Stop it, guys, back to the topic at hand.” Pietro waved them off from annoying each other. “Wanda thought of it mostly, we just have to be creative with our powers I guess. And Wanda can be very… imaginative.” Pietro smirked proudly at them making Wanda’s eyes roll in exasperation.

“Same thing either way, I don’t care. That Science thing is awesome! Way to go girl! Give me five!” Sam interjected as he offered up his hands to Wanda, shaking his hands excitedly as he waited.

Wanda didn’t say anything and just smiled in amusement while clapping her hands with him.

“I must say, it is quite astonishing of the countless ways that you could use with your abilities.” She suddenly heard Vision to her right. He’s not participating in the endurance exercise, with him being an android and all, but he still wants to be there.

Before she could reply, Pietro beat her to it. Quickly getting in between the gap between her and Vision. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

Wanda couldn’t help but sigh helplessly in amusement. Of course, he knows as well what happened between her and Vision in her past. She’s not oblivious to her brother’s actions. But she doesn’t really mind, in fact, it’s kind of endearing to her. Because she never got to experience this back then.

But Vision didn’t notice what he was doing and carried on with his questions.

“Would it be alright for you two to answer my query?” Vision looked at Wanda and Pietro, expecting them to answer.

Pietro was about to jokingly answer him that he already did but Wanda replied to him before he could.

“That depends on the question, but sure.” Wanda raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for the question.

When he didn’t reply, Wanda and Pietro looked at each other in confusion.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Vision tried to smile but failed which kind of amused Wanda a bit. “I’m still learning how to read social cues. Forgive me.”

“It’s fine Vision, what’s your question?” Wanda prompted him.

“I’m just curious about how your powers came about.” Vision shifted and looked from Wanda to Pietro. “Because in my analysis, my abilities came from the mind stone embedded in my head. I am still in the process of looking into this thing but I can theorize that my system is using it as a power source. Is it like that with yours too?”

“I’m actually curious too if you ask me,” Sam added with Bucky nodding in agreement with them.

Pietro looked at Wanda to explain to them. Not knowing how to form the words on how their powers came about, especially hers.

Well, Wanda didn’t really have the energy to explain things, so she just settled on agreeing with Vision. How can she explain that her powers were just dormant when she was a child and were just amplified by the stone? That would be a whole can of worms that she didn’t really want to open right now. Because that would mean that she had to go through her family line and actively search for answers.

“I guess you could say that.” Wanda shrugged as she worked out the kinks in her neck as she stretched. “It took some time to learn how it works, but we managed.”

“Do you think that I can have the stone removed in my head?” Vision asked no one in particular.

With Vision’s question, Wanda stopped what she was doing, surprised and a bit perplexed by his question. In the past, whenever Wanda and Vision talked about their powers, he never mentioned or expressed any desire to remove them. Not until, he was specifically told that the stone was being hunted by Thanos and Wanda insisted for it to be done so he could survive since she didn’t wanna destroy it.

In the end, it was still for naught. Wanda winced at the thought.

She looked at him for a bit before replying, trying to get a read on him. “Perhaps, do you want to?”

“I would like to think that it would be for the better. It might be weird to say this, but I can feel the stone, and I have this impending sense of doom?”

Wanda froze after hearing his words. She’s almost certain that she stopped breathing.

“You do?” Wanda asks after a moment.

Pietro looked at him and tilted his head in wonder. “How do you say so?”

“I am not quite sure. But that is what I think it is trying to tell me.” Vision told them.

“If anyone has any idea on how to remove that thing, it would be Stark or Banner. Unfortunately, Banner is off-world with Thor. So Stark is your only chance at the moment.” Wanda replied absentmindedly.

“Well, maybe I should get ahold of Mr. Stark and discuss this with him then.”

Vision’s words got her thinking. Because again, this never happened in her last life. Is the mind stone helping her? She had actually been thinking for days about how to bring up the stone in Vision’s head and remove it earlier than intended. The sooner that she gets Vision to Wakanda, and has the stone removed from him, the sooner that he will be safe.

Unfortunately, at this time, Wakanda’s borders are still closed off. Thinking about that gave Wanda a headache because she didn’t know where to start with that. She could try and do it with her powers, but well, she doesn’t really want to bet on it. Also, whenever her mind thinks of it, she involuntarily thinks back on the time she destroyed it as a last-ditch effort to stop Thanos.

“Speaking of Banner,” Sam looked at them and leaned forward, asking them to do the same. “I happen to know why Dr. Banner took a break from the hero gig.” He finished with a whisper.

Wanda noticed that Sam had a habit of changing topics from here and there. Conversations with him could go from what her favorite color (It’s red by the way) would be to something obscure such as her perspective on the outside world and the universe into something as silly as him trying to show her the latest trending news on twitter.

Intrigued, Pietro leaned in further, asking him to share. “What did you hear?”

Vision and Bucky join him as he asks Sam.

Wanda rolled her eyes in amusement because they were acting like high school kids gossiping about their crushes. But she admits that she’s also curious. So, she joined them.

Last time, the reason why Bruce left was because she messed with his mind; leaving, well, more like ghosting Natasha behind. But she didn’t do that this time. So what could be the reason now? And from what she had gathered, they hadn’t talked much… and got close to each other… well, she knows these things because she just wants to know everything regarding her close friend’s… personal life…

“Well,” Sam rubbed her hands together as he talked. “I heard from the grapevine that Dr. Banner tried to confess to our very own Agent Romanoff.”

“Natasha? Then what happened?” Wanda couldn’t help but ask him to continue.

“I guess he got turned down.” Sam shrugged.

“So, he ran?” Pietro guffawed.

Wanda tilted her head in confusion as she tapped Pietro on his shoulder in admonishment because he was enjoying it too much. And Natasha turning Bruce down is very unlikely to happen. She asked if they could run away together back in her last life for God’s sake.

“Is that true?” Wanda narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his words.

Sam paused then shook his head after a moment, he frowned, unsure, “Don’t know. Probably not.”

“Oh.” Pietro expressed disappointment, then rolled his eyes at Sam in annoyance.

“So…” Bucky started, raising his eyebrows at Sam, “What I’m getting is you don’t actually know why Banner went off-world?”

“It’s a fun story though…” Sam mumbled trailing off and then looked at Wanda and smirked at her. “-or maybe it’s because he already knew that he didn’t have a chance.”

Pietro gave Wanda a sly smile, already getting what Sam was trying to say.

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion like the others.

“Oh come on, you guys are so dense.” Sam groaned out in frustration when no one replied to him.

Pietro scoffed in denial, “I am not! In fact, I have seen it from like weeks ago.”

Wanda still not getting what they’re talking about, asked. “What are you two talking about?”

“I don’t get it,” Bucky told them in turn, agreeing with Wanda.

“As do I.” Vision added.

“Well, I think that he already knows that he didn’t stand a chance. So he left to nurse his poor heart.” Sam told them as he waved his hand animatedly and dramatically pranced around Wanda - who decided to continue her stretch because of how annoying Sam was getting on her nerves.

“Wow… you’re such a… storyteller huh… Did you ever think that maybe he just wants to, I don’t know, find himself?” Wanda told him, trailing off. Still not understanding what he’s saying and not knowing the words how to describe his actions properly.  She turned to look at Pietro to ask for a clue who only shrugged at her with a smirk. She narrowed her eyes at him as he raised his hands noncommittally.

“Find himself because of his poor heart you mean?” Sam replied swiftly, still not letting up.

“Is this what people call gossiping? And Sam is just spreading rumors?” Vision asks them after processing the conversation.

To which Bucky replied with a frustrated smile, helplessly annoyed at Sam, “I guess so Vision. Word of advice, don’t believe any of it if you haven’t confirmed it yourself. Sam can be… too much I think…”

“I see.” Vision nodded seriously in understanding while Sam exclaimed in denial.

“Hey, I am not!”

“Nope, you totally are.”

Throughout the months of Wanda and Pietro joining the team officially, Wanda slowly comes to a realization whenever she sees Vision. That if Pietro had been alive and was with her back then, she wouldn’t have been with… Vision. If Vision didn’t offer her comfort and silent companionship to get her through her grief, as he thought that that was best for the team at that time, they wouldn’t have been close together.

She didn’t want to think about it for now because it’s breaking her heart whenever she tries to. Because if she did, she would surely cry and drown with guilt. Because it would kind of feel like she’s disrespecting his memory… She thought that when she turned back time, it would all eventually fall back into place, but apparently, she thought wrong.

It’s puzzling if she’s being honest. So she’s kind of thankful as well for his brother’s… interventions whenever Vision tries to talk to her.

Finding herself thinking all about it again, Wanda sighed and finished her stretch quickly, and began to run around the track. Leaving the three of them as they stretch with their squabble about whatever comes to their mind, along with Vision who provides his insight from time to time.

If Wanda’s being honest with herself, she’s confused and at the same time conflicted. Because, yes, she did get Vision back. But somehow it’s just not her Vision… it didn’t feel the same. It makes her overthink things. Did him being born without all the arguments that happened before between them and Thor finally striking his cradle with lightning had a factor in his personality? Because… they didn’t do it this time. Tony and Bruce didn’t have any difficulties uploading JARVIS’ AI framework into the cradle.

She tried talking to him, looked for the instant bond that they shared the first time that she saw him, that comforting feeling she got when he was around back then. But try as she might, she felt… nothing…

Somehow, it breaks her heart all over again. Because she did get Vision back… just not… her Vision. She tells herself that maybe it’s just because they don’t know each other well right now.

Or maybe not…

She doesn’t know anymore.

So, she avoids him. But not too much to the point that the others in the team would notice and be concerned.

She’s thankful right now that they’re just scheduled for endurance training, so she didn’t need to speak with anyone more than what was necessary. She’s not really in the mood.

After running a few laps, she found herself getting broken out of her thoughts by Steve calling for them in the middle of the track. Slowing down, she made her way towards him. As she closes in, she notices that it’s not just him who is waiting, she finds Natasha and Clint waiting for them as well.

Seeing Natasha, she quickened her footsteps. She hadn’t really seen the woman for weeks now with Phil Coulson, Fury’s right-hand man, sending her on an undercover mission.

“Hey Nat, you’re back!” Wanda greeted her with a smile as soon as she was near her. She’s the first one to arrive from the others, she didn’t know if they heard Steve calling for them with all the bickering that they’re doing.

“Как дела, красивая?” Natasha greeted her back with a smirk. [Russian: How are you, beautiful?]

Hearing Natasha’s greeting, she couldn’t help the flush immediately coloring her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she mumbled softly. “I’m fine. Престани да ме задиркујеш.” [Serbian/Sokovian: Stop teasing me.]

“И испортить все веселье?” Raising her eyebrows at her, making Wanda flush further. [Russian: And ruin all the fun?]

Wanda didn’t know why but their dynamic suddenly changed that same evening when she talked to Natasha. She’s always teasing her to the point that Wanda notices that she’s not doing it to the other guys. She almost thinks that she’s conspiring with them.

Almost.

But she is, most likely...

Clint and Steve looked from Natasha and then at Wanda, not understanding the conversation between the two. But judging by the interaction, they somewhat get the idea of it.

“Uh… we’re here too, by the way,” Clint announced as he looked between the two. He then raised his eyebrow at Natasha who didn’t say anything after that.

“And are you two conversing in two different languages or are my ears deceiving me?” Steve added as he gestured from Wanda to Natasha.

Natasha motions for the others to run faster as she replies, “And that’s relevant because?”

“Hey Clint, Steve…” Wanda quietly acknowledged them after, she then turned to look at Pietro and the others - who she found were still slowly making their way towards them - just so she could have something else to do.

Completely missing the questioning look that Steve and Clint are pointedly sending toward Natasha - which she blatantly ignores.

“Aren’t you retired already, old man?” She heard Natasha ask Clint.

Making Wanda turn to look back at Clint who only looked at Natasha pointedly before letting out a sigh. And for Natasha, well she took it in stride and just raised her eyebrows at him in challenge. Wanda smiled lightly in amusement as she watched the two, but then she immediately averted her eyes when she found Natasha quickly shifting her gaze toward her.

“I’m beginning to regret agreeing to this Cap.” Clint turned towards Steve with a huff.

“Wait- what would you regret?” Sam asks him when they joined them.

“Well, Barton here graciously offered his farmhouse to us.” Natasha nudged Clint’s shoulder playfully as she talked to Wanda and the others.

“Is there a reason for this?” Vision asks for them this time.

“We thought that it would be a nice way for the team to bond,” Steve replied with a smile. “I noticed that all we have been doing is train here in the compound, so I suppose that’s why I’m suggesting this.”

“Who else is gonna be there?” Wanda heard Bucky ask after.

“Well, just us of course. I’m not sure if Rhodey will make it. He’s with Tony right now.”

Wanda doesn’t have any opinions about it if anyone asks. She thinks that it’s great actually.

While they were dealing with the logistics, she took the time to take everyone with her. She didn’t really experience this back in her last life. Of wanting to participate and be present with the team. Back then, she remembered that she was always in her room sleeping away or training. That has been her routine until the Accords happened, well, she couldn’t really go out at that time as well so that’s probably one of the reasons why she wasn’t around them much. It feels nice.

“So does everyone agree to camping in Clint’s forest grounds?” Wanda heard Steve ask and then the chorus of agreement came from everyone after.

When Wanda slowly realized what Steve said, she looked at him in confusion. “Wait, camping?”

“Yep, figured it would be a great way to connect with everyone you know. Without all the distractions.” Steve replied and turned towards the others again.

“Why does it have to be on Clint’s grounds?” She heard Vision ask Steve, which admittedly, Wanda was curious of the answer as well.

But Pietro distracted her again. In the background, she can faintly hear Steve answering Vision.

“Изгледа да сте већ ометени.” Pietro leaned towards her and whispered in her ear, to not let the others hear what he was saying to Wanda. [Serbian/Sokovian: It looks like you're distracted already.]

Wanda elbowed him, not paying him any mind before whispering back. Still trying to pay attention to Steve. “О мој Боже Pietro, зачепи уста.” [Serbian/Sokovian: Oh my god Pietro, shut your mouth.]

“Не док ми не кажеш зашто.” Pietro smirked and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and shook her lightly to annoy her. “Is it because of you крошка or is it the overglorified toaster?” [Serbian/Sokovian: Not until you tell me why.] [Russian: Babe (casual)]

“What крошка?” Wanda feigned ignorance.

But of course, her twin wouldn’t let up. “Your де́тка then?” [Russian: Babe (affectionate)]

“She’s not my де́тка.” Wanda replied quickly with a groan. [Russian: Babe]

“Oh, so you do know who I’m talking about.” Pietro gasped dramatically to tease her, making Wanda let out an exasperated sigh.

“I-” Wanda paused, “Come on, now Pietro.”

“-and that’s what you decided to focus on in everything that I just said?” He continued his playful teasing, undeterred. “-that’s what got you distracted?”

Wanda wanted to rip her hair out in frustration because it was so not the time right now. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

“It comes with the territory.” Pietro grinned at her, it made Wanda want to wipe it off his face. “I’m your older brother.”

“By freaking twelve minutes…” Wanda mumbled.

“I heard that.”

Wanda almost had a heart attack when she heard someone quietly joining their conversation. When she looked over her shoulder, she found Bucky who had a smirk forming on his face.

“What did you hear?” Wanda whispered as she shook off Pietro and elbowed him again, hard this time.

“Oof! Ow!” She heard Pietro quietly exclaim in the background, to which he then launched a series of coughs to mask his pain from Steve who narrowed his eyes slightly at him. Serves him right.

“Enough.” Bucky went to her other side and began to tease her.

Wanda sighs in annoyance and huffs. “Not you too Buck.”

“I’d beg to differ. I have eyes you know?” Bucky looked from Wanda then to Pietro and asked, “Is this what you’re referring to earlier with Sam?”

Wanda heard three responses that made her want to crawl up a hole right now, because what is it with them?

“Yeeeep.”

“I heard my name, what’s up?”

“Are you three listening?”

Wanting to get the conversation over with, Wanda chose to answer Steve’s question to ignore them. She loudly interjected while walking away from the two who were teasing her greatly. “Yes, Steve. We’ll meet later in the afternoon, right? Do we need to pack anything specific?”

“I have prepared all the stuff that we need. Just prepare some change of clothes and show up on outdoor clothing.” Steve replied while beginning to wrap up their talk. “Alright, I’ve already cleared our schedule with Fury. Meet up will be in the common room after lunch.”

After their talk, everyone went off on their way to prepare. With Wanda in the forefront scurrying towards her room to escape, well more like, avoid everyone.

Somehow, she thinks this is worse (endearing as it is) than when Tony was always trying to get her to notice him by annoying her and leaving countless gifts at her doorstep that she had no idea what to do with back in her past. His weird way of trying to apologize when he learned about her childhood and his part in it when she found out why he was doing it.

It confuses her. Because what do the others see that she doesn’t?

Frankly, Wanda didn’t have the time to think of things like this. She has a lot to do and prepare, she has to make every second count with this. She wouldn’t blame them though. Because they don’t know what’s about to come. And it’s actually nice to see them take it easy from time to time.

Well, except Pietro because she told him. So she gets a free pass whenever she slaps his arm hard because of their teasing.

Sometimes, she thinks it would be better if she should just tell everyone that Thanos is actively looking all over the galaxy for the infinity stones. But whenever she tried, she found that she just couldn’t. She freezes whenever she tries to. And well, she wouldn’t really want to test the TVA right now if she’s being honest - and that is on top of all the things that she needs to think and prepare about.

So she settles for the next best thing, and that is to train. And urge others to improve themselves as well, not just physically but also in other aspects.

So far, she thinks she’s good with her planning -provided that the events don’t change. She just needs to work out the other details so that she’s sure that she can keep everyone safe.

And as for the Accords, well, she’s still working on that… she might need a lawyer though, or two… maybe three. She’s even hitting the books as well just in case.

To add to that, she thinks that she needs to work on her magic. Wanda realizes that she used the Darkhold as a shortcut to learning. Well, what she learned from it was useful - to some parts- but it wouldn’t really do her good if she used the other things that she learned from that book. And still, every time she uses her powers she still feels this sense of trepidation looming over her. Of being afraid. If she wants to use her powers to help others, she has to learn. Properly this time. If she’s desperate, maybe she would use what she learned from that damned book - but it is highly unlikely.

She debated looking for Agatha this time and asked her to be her mentor but she was not really sure if she could trust her. It’s quite sad because she’s the only witch that Wanda knows.

Or maybe she could go to the sorcerers… but she decided against it. The last time she went to Kamar-Taj was when she destroyed it… and she’s not keen on refreshing her memories of that place right now. But still, it could be another option. Again, if she’s desperate, maybe she could consider it.

“Hey Любимая, were you ignoring me?” [Russian: Sweetheart]

Wanda was broken out of her thoughts when she heard someone from behind her. She didn’t realize that she was already in an elevator going up to their quarters.

When Wanda looked over her shoulders, she was surprised that the eyes that locked with hers were startlingly green, and for a moment, all she did was gape at the face looking back at her in amusement.

Wanda realized that this was the first time that she had really been up close with Natasha. It didn’t help that the dim light of the elevator made the color in her eyes more prominent. She found her leaning against the wall of the elevator.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Солнышко?” Natasha asked, her easy smile and relaxed demeanor making Wanda fluster. [Russian: Sunshine]

“What’s up with the pet names?” Wanda muttered the first thing that popped into her mind as she desperately tried to hide the onset of the flush of her cheeks that she could feel forming - averting her eyes in the process to look at the numbers indicating which floor they were in.

Natasha pushed forward and walked to stand beside her. “Why? You don’t like it?” She laughed while touring Wanda’s form with her gaze before raising her eyebrows.

Wanda feels like she’s going to combust from Natasha’s gaze.

“It’s not that…” Wanda trailed off awkwardly, not really knowing how to react.

Because well, it’s confusing her. Wanda likes it a bit too much. But why? And.. she can’t… Isn’t Natasha supposed to like Bruce? And she has Vision to think about still…

Sometimes, she wonders if her past is still accurate.

The arrival of the elevator on her floor saved her from thinking further. She immediately got off and started to make her way towards her room.

But Wanda isn’t really having the best of luck right now, is she? Because - yes, of course - Natasha is living on the same floor as her.

She heard Natasha clear her throat before talking to her again. “In all seriousness Wanda, if you are uncomfortable with it I’ll -”

“No, I’m not-” Wanda denied abruptly before she could think about her words. Wanda wishes that the ground would swallow her whole right now because of what is going on with her. She’s such a mess.

They’re now in front of the doors of their respective rooms. And of course, her room is right beside Natasha’s.

Wanda’s hand hovered over her door knob before making a decision, still unsure. Taking a deep breath, she finally answered her questions. “-I’m not… ignoring you Nat, I’m just thinking about some things. Too many to count… and yes, I do lo-like it.”

Wanda tentatively turned towards Natasha, only to find her already looking back up to her, blinking slowly.

“Okay then.”

“Okay?” Wanda asks, a bit unsure where the conversation is going now.

“Yes. See you later, Wanda.” She heard Natasha while giving her a soft smile before going inside her room - leaving her alone in the hallway.

And somehow, she thinks, that Natasha’s smile aimed at her did more numbers to her than her playful teasing and Pietro’s pestering with the others combined.

2015. Clint’s Farm, Iowa

October

It didn’t take much time for them to settle in at Clint’s farm. Wanda and the others decided to take it easy after setting up their camp. Well, it’s not really a camp as it’s barely far away from Clint’s farmhouse but still, Wanda thinks that it’s a new experience. She kinda feels like she missed out on these kinds of things back then if she’s being honest.

It’s now late in the afternoon and they had got a fire going for their camp after all the activities that Steve planned for them. They’re all seated by the fire, forming a circle to surround it. The crackling of the campfire sent dancing shadows across the faces of her friends, each bathed in the warm, flickering light. Wanda is sitting on a camping chair with her legs stretched out and her arms crossed as she observes the others. Pietro is sitting nearby right on her left, busy making smores; he couldn’t stop making more right after Steve taught him how. Of course, she gets a share of what he makes.

Looking around, she found Steve and Bucky sitting beside Pietro. Across from Wanda is Vision whose keeping the fire going, claiming that he wants to be on fire duty as Sam calls it - his face is a picture of focused concentration. He’s currently in a conversation beside Sam on which materials are better in tending the fire. And right beside her is Natasha, whose drinking sbiten quietly, it looked like she’s taking in everyone as well, seemingly lost in thought.

They started with lighthearted talks at first. Steve began regaling them with a particularly enthralling tale of his misadventures during his military training, his voice booming with laughter and amusement when he told them of one time that his commander allowed whoever managed to get the flag down off a pole to go back on a truck instead of walking for miles. Steve managed to get it of course.

He continued with his stories as Bucky listened with a wry smile, occasionally interjecting with a dry comment that had them all erupting in renewed amusement.

Steve and Bucky mostly shared their experiences with camping when they were drafted and compared it to what they’re doing now. Which basically started the back and forth with Bucky and Sam.

Right now, Sam and Bucky are currently debating about the proper term for their supposed team-building activity.

Bucky told Sam that he should stop making things complicated and keep it simple because according to him, “Camping is camping because you set up a camp to sleep in and that’s it.” However, Sam argues that what they’re doing is not that and based on his words, he preferred to call it “Glamping. Because we have everything that we need plus Clint’s house is just a few feet away.”

It didn’t take long for the others to get roped into their debate. And watching it all unfold is amusing Wanda because how come these people are the same Avengers that fight threats that the government can’t handle?

Steve and Vision agreed with Bucky because it is literally just setting up camp and sleeping outside. Steve just agreed because well, apparently, Bucky’s his best friend (Sam vehemently exclaimed at him which Steve calmly denies), and Vision based it on his “extensive search” to what a clear definition of camping is.

To which Bucky gloated, childishly if Wanda may add. “Hah, take that Birdman.”

“Hey, just because the walking computer agrees with you, it doesn’t mean you win this argument.” Sam huffs petulantly.

He looked at Natasha and Wanda, who reacted at the same time as when he was about to ask them.

“No.” Wanda replied simply while shaking her head.

“Not happening, Wilson.”

Wanda looked at Natasha and found her raising her eyebrows playfully at Sam as she drank from her mug again to hide her smile. Her knees jerked involuntarily making Wanda’s leg brush up against Natasha’s. When Natasha turned to look at her in question, Wanda shook her head with an abashed smile.

When Sam tried to get Pietro to be on his side, she couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle.

Pietro doesn’t really care because it’s basically the same thing to him. He’s more focused on the important stuff at the moment, and that is making smores.  “We sleep outside the house and we’re not in bed either way Sam, don’t rope me in to side with you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re too busy eating smores.” He noted and raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t we just ate a while ago?” Sam asks after, completely forgetting about the debate that he’s in.

“Hey!” Pietro exclaimed, opting to finish chewing his smores first before continuing. “I have a fast metabolism you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep saying that.” Sam rolled his eyes.

Wanda, lost in her observations, didn't notice Natasha subtly shift closer, her gaze fixed on the swirling flames of the fire. Natasha leaned in slightly, her voice a soft murmur, "Lost in thought, Wanda?"

Wanda, startled by the sudden intrusion, blinked, her gaze finally connecting with Natasha's. A fleeting smile touched Natasha's lips, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Wanda, momentarily flustered, could only manage a sheepish grin in response.

She can feel herself twitch when she realizes that Natasha decided to call her name instead of her usual nicknames for her. She felt a sense of loss that shouldn’t be there. Because why should it be? 

But at the same time, she’s also confused, because she likes hearing her calling her name. It’s just her name for God’s sake why is she getting worked up over this? She used to call her like that all the time. What happened now?

Natasha, sensing Wanda's slight shift in attention, leaned closer to get it back, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don’t tell anyone," she began, her eyes twinkling, "-but they’re really acting childish don’t you think?"

Wanda was about to reply but their moment was interrupted by Vision asking Natasha a question.

“Agent Romanoff, would it be alright for you to clear a rumor?”

Everyone’s conversation with each other was halted immediately after he asked. The reaction of everyone varied from curious, perturbed, and panicked.

It was mostly Steve whose curious while the rest were in various states of panic - including Wanda. Because they know - she knows what Vision will ask. She didn’t need to read his mind to confirm it. Her mind flashed back to their conversation just this morning during training, along with Bucky advising Vision to not believe the rumors that Sam is telling them and confirming it first before believing it.

Of course, Vision being Vision, curious as ever, will follow through and ask.

“What rumor?” Natasha replied, her eyebrows narrowing slightly. Making Wanda and the rest shift on their seats nervously. Mostly, Sam.

“Is it true that you had relations with Dr. Banner?” Vision asks, almost inquisitively obtuse - but Wanda thinks it’s just him being… intrigued? Either way, she gives him credit for his boldness.

Upon hearing his question, Wanda can practically hear the collective recollection of breath from everyone around her. Everyone thought that she would launch into a series of verbal snipes. Well, aside from Wanda that is.

There are two ways that Wanda thinks Natasha’s reaction could be, one is that she would lash out and the other will be her brushing it off with playful banter and sly remarks. She expects Natasha will go for the latter with her usual quips.

Surprisingly she didn’t do either of the two. Wanda didn’t think that there would be a third option but there actually is, with Natasha playing coy.

Natasha leaned slightly forward, resting her elbow on her knees as she supported herself - raising her eyebrows at them perfectly before giving Wanda and the others an amused smile - “Do you really want to know?” -  her gaze staying at Wanda made her feel like Natasha’s directing her question to her.

Yes.

Wanda blinked.

For a moment, the only sound that can be heard is the crackling of the fire in the hearth, the distant chirping of crickets, and the rustle of leaves from trees gently swaying from the wind.

Vision was about to reply to her question - which Wanda slowly realizes is clearly rhetorical. Steve quickly interrupted him before he could continue, because clearly, this could get out of hand.

“Okay, I think it’s getting late now, we should really start settling down.”

With a quick chorus of agreement, everyone started piling in their respective tents. Except for Wanda that is, who chose to remain in the camping chair that she’s sitting in, telling the others to go on ahead. Enjoying the quiet lull that settled after everyone left.

She sat there for a while, just reflecting on things. She thought back on the things she needed to do, to plan and prepare for, and to improve on.

But mostly, her thoughts stayed on Vision. She supposed she couldn’t really hold it off anymore.

When Wanda really thinks about it, she realizes that her and Vision’s love had always been doomed to fail. Their happiness was always cut short, no matter how hard they tried to be together. But still, Wanda couldn’t help but think of the what ifs and should haves. Because Vision is here, he’s alive, shouldn’t she try again?

But then again, it’s not the same. She’s slowly accepting it. It still hurts, but she’d like to think that she’s getting there. But the guilt overwhelms her. When she came back and changed everything, her feelings changed too. She didn’t feel the connection that she once thought that she shared with him.

Was her love for him really just that shallow? Is it really all that there is to it? Back then, is it just her using him as comfort to get over her grief because of Pietro’s death? Was it because he was there to comfort her through her sadness - using him as a safety net because he’s comfortable, and that he is just there, not leaving her alone?

Wanda thought before that Vision was her everything after Pietro. Her sadness, hope, but mostly, love. He was someone who didn’t look at her in fear and she loved him for that.

It felt like she was dishonoring her memory of him just by thinking of this. Because she did loved him - does… love… him.

Does she?

It eats her insides with guilt to realize that it’s not it; it’s not supposed to be just like that.

Through her grief from Pietro’s death, and the empty feeling that was consuming her at the loss of their connection; she mistook the comfort of Vision’s presence as a life ring, always there to pull her from her overwhelming sadness that was threatening to drown her. Essentially using him as a replacement for the feeling of connection that she lost after her twin’s death.

Was her love for him inherently just her misguided grief? With her selfishly taking everything that he could give, because of the constant nagging in the back of her head that she didn’t want to be alone.

But she grew up starved for love and affection. And losing the other person who is capable of it, her literal twin, wouldn’t it be stupid of her to not take it? She wasn’t fed with love on a silver spoon, she may as well lick it off of knives even if it hurts her in the end.

She’s selfish, she knows this for a fact already, but with her newfound realization, she thinks that she’s worse.

She doesn’t deserve him.

Didn’t deserve him.

She’s slowly thinking that maybe, she’s not even capable of love. And adding it all to the list of the things she has done, she realizes that she doesn’t deserve love at all.

The campfire flickered and died, casting the surrounding woods in a soft glow. The others, exhausted from the day's activities, had drifted off to sleep, their snores a gentle counterpoint to the symphony of the night.

Wanda, however, remained awake. Letting her thoughts just go through her, absentmindedly staring at where the fire used to be.

She let the cold take over, the quiet of the night heavy around her.

“You’ve been awfully quiet for a while now. Mind if I steal a penny of your thoughts?”

Wanda was startled slightly, effectively breaking out of her thoughts. She looked to her side and finally noticed that she wasn’t alone. She found Natasha settling beside her.

Realizing her question addressed to her, Wanda replied. "Oh, no, not at all. Though I'm not sure I have a full penny's worth to offer."

“Anything is better than nothing." Natasha shrugged. "What are you thinking?"

Wanda shifted in her seat, her gaze finally connecting with Natasha's.

"Okay," she relented after a thought, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. "I'm... not sure what to think."

Natasha nodded a gentle understanding in her eyes - one that Wanda was slowly getting used to. "That's okay," she said, her voice reassuring. "Sometimes, the best way to find answers is to simply let your thoughts wander."

Wanda smiled slightly, "You're right," she said, her voice softening. "I… I've been so focused on everything else lately, that I haven't had a chance to process things."

Natasha leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "What's troubling you, Wanda?"

Wanda hesitated, her eyes darting away from Natasha's gaze. "It's... complicated," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "There's just so much going on, so many changes and I'm not sure how to handle it all."

Her words were hidden with double meanings. Wanda couldn’t really say what she was thinking. Because how can she?

Natasha reached out, her hand gently touching Wanda's arm. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed," she said, her voice soft and comforting. "There’s nothing wrong with that."

Wanda nodded, a sigh escaping her lips. "I know," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "But it feels like everything is happening all at once, and I don't know what to do."

Natasha smiled lightly, her eyes reflecting something that Wanda couldn’t make out. "You're not alone, Wanda," she said, her voice firm. "You have us to help you now."

The two women sat in silence for a moment, not really minding the lull in between. Her talk just now with Natasha made her feel light, although she hadn’t delved into details, she was just grateful that she was there to listen. And well, Wanda thinks that she didn’t really mind Natasha’s presence breaking her thoughts from time to time if that will happen every time.

“I have a question.” Wanda let out after a while as Natasha started the campfire again.

Once she was done, Natasha turned towards her and smirked, “Is it the same one that Vision asked earlier?”

“What?! No, I-” Wanda realized that she spoke loudly and that Natasha was just messing with her. Lowering her voice down with a playful exasperation, she continued. “I wasn’t going to ask you that…”

“Relax Wanda, I was just messing with you.” Natasha laughed lightly as she leaned towards Wanda. “Well then, what is it?” She asked after, her eyebrows raised playfully.

Wanda looked over at Natasha for a second, taking the time to observe her before continuing.

The embers of the campfire glowed softly, casting an ethereal glow on Natasha. Wanda then notices that she has a faint scar right above her left eyebrow, just a thin hairline - barely noticeable, not until you’re actively looking at it. Before Wanda could realize what she was doing, she reached out to gently trace the scar. Somehow, seeing this, it made Natasha seem more genuine to her.

Back then, she used to think that Natasha was invulnerable, that nothing could touch her - hurt her unless she let it. Be it weapons or words, nothing can affect her; she is impervious. But seeing her scar, one that she never knew even existed in her past life made quite a difference.

“How did you get this?” Wanda asks, genuinely curious about what could permanently mark Natasha like this.

Natasha smiled playfully up at her, before replying, “Would you believe me if I said that it was because of my sister?”

“Really?” Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed as she asked in surprise, unconsciously shifting closer to Natasha as she used her other hand to cup her head, gently making Natasha face her, her focus still on the faint scar.

“Yep, I took a hit from a freaking boxed toy car when I took some of her macaroni.” Natasha stayed put in Wanda’s hands as she let out her words softly, her lips curling up as if she was remembering what happened. “She yelled at me while she was crying and practically declaring that I’m an abomination for eating some of her shares.”

Wanda looked directly into her eyes. “That’s… interesting.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Natasha gave her a sly smile before continuing, “Was it interesting because I took a hit from a toy car or because I stole Yelena’s macaroni?”

“Both actually.” Wanda couldn’t help but smile as she answered, it’s good seeing a new side from someone that she thought she knew already. Seeing Natasha talk about her sister, talking playfully and laughing easily with her feels… nice. And compared to her last life, the start of her friendship with Natasha this time is better. She likes this more. She still couldn’t help but flush whenever she teases her though…

“Don’t tell that to the others though,” Natasha whispered while leaning in conspiratorially as Wanda absentmindedly traced the scar still, “if anyone asks, tell them that I got it from a throwing knife.”

Wanda chuckled at that, “What? You got a rep to uphold?”

“Of course, can’t have them knowing some of my battle scars are lame as fuck.”

“Either way, I like it.” Wanda paused for a bit while shifting her gaze from the scar down towards Natasha’s green eyes. She then looked back again at the scar and gently declared after, still tracing the faint scar line, “I think that it makes you more… you.”

Natasha blinked slowly after hearing her words, and then quickly leaned back from her, making Wanda realize what she was just doing. Wanda cleared her throat, shifting in her seat as she rubbed her hands to her thighs, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

“So, was that your question?” She heard Natasha ask.

Wanda looked at her and was thankful that it looked like she didn’t mind her actions just now.

“What?” She asks, a bit unsure.

“I meant my scar. Was that your question?”

“Oh, well, no,” Wanda was reminded of her initial question before getting distracted. “Have you ever gone back, read a book, or watched a movie a second time, and interpreted it in an entirely different way?”

“Hmm, I can’t say I have.” Natasha hummed, blinking back at her slowly. “Why’d you ask?”

Because I’m afraid I'm starting to look back on my life and I’m thinking I’ve really missed out on a lot.

Wanda shrugged as she folded her arms over her chest. “Just curious.”

“How about I you ask one of mine?” Natasha asks while crossing her leg over her other one. She leaned back slightly in her seat as she rested her elbow on the armrest to get comfortable.

Wanda turned towards Natasha, mirroring her actions as she replied. “And that is?”

“Well, it's more like a request and less of a question. But I’m not sure how to go about it if I’m being honest.”

Wana raised her eyebrows, slightly intrigued. She didn’t say anything and just let Natasha continue.

“Your telepathy,” Natasha began, “You mentioned last time that it could be dangerous, but I noticed that you’re using it with your brother.”

Wanda blinked back in surprise. For all the things that she thought Natasha might ask, her telepathy wouldn’t be the first thing that would come to mind. Well, to be fair, she’s basing her judgments back on her last life. It’s high time that she realized that sometimes it would be different this time around.

“Well,” Wanda cleared her throat, trying to think of how to respond. “He’s my twin. I guess you could say I’m comfortable enough with him for me to use my telepathic abilities without messing up his mind.”

Natasha nodded thoughtfully. “Hm, that’s fair...”

“Is there any reason why you asked?” Wanda tilted her head, pondering what Natasha was trying to say.

“Just curious.” Natasha shrugged and grinned at Wanda, throwing her words earlier back at her.

Wanda couldn't help it. She burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the camping grounds. Natasha joined in, her laughter infectious. For a moment, Wanda felt that the weight of the world seemed to lift, the weight of her grief lessened.

She paused and let out a shaky exhale, a surprised sound that quickly escalated again into a full-blown, unrestrained laugh. Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of grief and the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Why the hell is she suddenly crying?

Sniffing as she laughed lightly, Wanda let out, “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“Don’t be,” Natasha replied softly, “If you want someone to talk to, just know that I’m right here.”

Wanda thought of her words. Debating if she should or should not tell her how or what she’s feeling. How can she tell Natasha her grief when it hadn’t even happened right now? How can she make her understand without divulging into anything?

So she just settled on the next thing, which is her powers. She always worries about it. She always worries about hurting someone, of losing control. She sometimes thinks that her fear and self-doubt will always get the best of her.

She let crimson tendrils dance around the two of them, creating an iridescent glow as it reflected the campfire.

Wanda sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken worries. "It’s just that... I'm afraid, Natasha. Afraid of what I might do."

Of what I can do.

Natasha moved her seat closer, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Afraid of losing control?"

Wanda nodded and closed her eyes, the memories of her past flooding back – the grief, the rage, the uncontrollable surge of power that had nearly destroyed everything and everyone in her path. And then the guilt, the shame, of wanting to be a hero - something that she clearly is not.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, to try and distract herself from the mental images that her mind suddenly conjured. The things that she did and her violence that were caused by her delusions.

"It's okay to be afraid," Natasha said softly. "But you don't have to let fear control you or your actions."

Wanda opened her eyes, a desperate plea in their depths. "What if I can't control it? What if I hurt someone? Destroy everything in my path?"

Natasha's gaze was unwavering. "You won't. You have more control than you think. Don’t you remember what you did back in Johannesburg? In Lagos? In Seoul? Didn’t you fix everything that Ultron destroyed back then? And you healed me from that gun wound as well remember? You used your powers to recreate, to heal, to fix - not destroy.”

But Natasha didn’t know. She doesn’t know how cruel and violent she can be. Wanda shook her head, her voice trembling, thick and unsteady. "But what if I'm wrong? What if I'm losing the battle?"

Natasha knelt before her, her eyes searching Wanda's. Trying to decipher what had gotten Wanda to act like this.

"You are not losing, Wanda. You are fighting. And you are strong. Stronger than you know." Wanda felt Natasha take her hands. “- and if you think you’re not strong enough, you have me - us.”

But Natasha’s words didn’t register with Wanda, the ringing in her ears got stronger, her eyes became blurry and her breath was slowly coming up short. She doesn’t know if she should just let her thoughts consume her.

“Hey, hey,” Wanda then felt Natasha directing her hands to cup her face, making Wanda focus on her. “Breathe Wanda, breathe for me.”

She didn’t notice what she was doing or what was happening until Natasha tried to keep her grounded. Through the ringing in her ears, she looked down to find green eyes staring back at her own, somewhat calming her down. She automatically did as she was asked, her breathing slowly syncing with Natasha.

“I’m going to try something okay? Just try to answer me as best as you can.” Natasha murmured as she let Wanda rub her thumb across her cheek, her gaze never wavering at her.

When Wanda didn’t respond, Natasha took the hand that was holding her cheek and squeezed it. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Wanda nodded absentmindedly, despondent.

“Tell me five things that you can see.”

Wanda looked around, to try and ground herself before replying shakily. “I-I can see the tents of the guys just a few feet away, I can see my magic swirling and dancing around us, I can see the flames of the campfire swaying back and forth, I can see the color of your eyes changing in the light from the fire and my magic, and I see your scar right above your eyebrow - the one that you told me about.”

“Good, let’s keep going. Four things you can feel or touch.” Natasha prompted her gently, gripping Wanda’s wrists, rubbing it with her thumb in an attempt to calm her down and feel her pulse.

Wanda traced her finger over Natasha’s scar again, “The ground beneath my feet, the chair I’m sitting on, the warmth from the fire, and you - I can feel you.”

The last thought brought another onslaught of tears breaking through her. Because yes, she can feel her.

“Focus де́тка, I know,” Natasha shook her lightly, “Three things you can hear?”

“The crackling of the fire, the leaves in the trees swaying nearby, and the loud snores of the guys even all the way from here.” Wanda listed off. That thought made Wanda blink back slowly, making her smile.

“They’re loud, aren’t they? It’s a good thing that we live on a different floor back in the compound then.” Natasha joked lightly. “Two things you can smell?”

“I can smell the burning wood from the campfire, and your perfume - something floral, lavender?” Wanda leaned forward as she asked, her eyes slowly reflecting clarity.

“Yes, I’ve read somewhere that one of its effects is that it's supposed to be calming.” Natasha agreed as she nodded, still not breaking eye contact with Wanda.

Wanda smiled again as she replied, feeling like she was almost herself, “Well, I think it’s working.”

“One thing you can taste?”

Wanda paused, her mind coming up blank.

“I…” She trailed off.

Wanda looked down at Natasha as if seeing her would have the answer she was looking for. Wanda then noticed that she’s cupping Natasha’s cheeks, she suddenly had an urge to look at her. She trained her eyes down slowly, from her scar that she’s slowly getting familiar with, down to her perfectly symmetrical eyebrows, her bright green eyes that stared right back at her, her curved nose that looked thin and delicate, her flushed cheeks, her full lips…

She wonders if she could taste her lips.

She shouldn’t. She contradicted herself as soon as she thought of that.

Because… why should she?

First off, it’s not in her cards. She accepted it already. If Wanda is being honest with herself, she does know what Pietro and the others are suggesting. She’s not stupid, of course, she notices. She’s just pretending not to. going out of her way to not acknowledge it. It’s easier that way. She couldn’t face it because what was it all for? She’d rather be friends with everyone than hurt anyone else further. She thinks she could be content with that. She could live with being just friends.

It’s not fair for Natasha - hell, she doesn’t even know if Natasha actually likes her or just flirting for the sake of teasing. Besides, she’s not in the best position to share herself with anyone else. If anything, she’s not the best person to be with.

For god’s sake, she should just think of everything that she did in Westview to keep Vision to stay in her hex as a reminder to stop herself from thinking such things. She’s broken, selfish, and greedy. She is the architect of her chaos and destruction. She loves too much. She will only hurt her in the end because that’s what she does, that’s what she always do.

No matter how much she thinks that her love is gentle, reality will always remind her that she will never be - can never be.

She remembered back then after Westview, back in the gardens in her little cabin in the mountains of Sokovia. She remembered killing a plant, and she killed it by taking care of it.

Her love is violence. Like that plant in her garden that she was trying to nurture, she killed it by giving too much water. A simple act, and yet so tragic. In her eagerness to ensure its well-being, she failed to understand its true needs. Her overabundance of love, expressed through constant watering, became its undoing. The plant, suffocated by her relentless attention, it could not breathe, and it could not thrive.

She failed to see the thin line between nurturing and overwhelming. Like what she did with Vision in the hex, she could do the same to Natasha. In her fervent desire to love, she inadvertently caused harm.

Blinking back, she slowly traced Natasha’s scar one last time and let her go. She then leaned back and folded her arms over her chest, letting out a soft sigh. Making her scarlet wisps disappear as well as an afterthought.

She shifted in her seat and reached over to her left, taking the sweets and chocolates that Pietro left behind in his overzealous act of creating smores.

She took a bite from the chocolate and gave Natasha, who was returning to her seat, a lop-sided smile.

“I can taste the chocolate that I just ate.”

Natasha for her part didn’t say anything else after her episode. She just smiled at her and asked. “Want to make some smores? Are you okay with that?”

Wanda realized that this was the first time that she felt overwhelmed with her powers and didn’t lash out. Her emotions not getting the best of her.

With that thought, she smiled easily back at Natasha.

“Okay.”

Wanda and Natasha didn’t sleep in their tent that night like the guys did. In their defense, they couldn’t sleep because of the loud chorus of snores that they could hear. Wanda thinks that Vision is the only one who sleeps quietly among them. She briefly wondered how the guys were able to sleep listening to each other's snores.

And so Natasha proposed that they sleep in her bedroom back at Clint’s house. And of course, if Wanda's choice is between a soft bed or a sleeping bag accompanied by snores, she wouldn’t pass up the chance to get away from it.

The first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting long, dancing shadows across Natasha's bedroom. Wanda stirred, blinking against the sudden brightness, blinded by it, she curled up to herself as she groaned softly and burrowed deeper into the pillows. Beside her, Natasha stretched languidly, her back popping with a satisfying crack.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Natasha teased, nudging Wanda with her elbow.

Wanda mumbled incoherently, pulling the covers over her head. "Five more minutes..."

Natasha chuckled, "Come on, де́тка. The guys will be here any minute now."

Wanda finally emerged from the covers, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

“It’s now six in the morning and it’s time for us to go downstairs.” Natasha stood up as she replied, she then offered her hand to Wanda to help her up.

“Too early…” Wanda mumbled sleepily.

Still half-asleep, Wanda took it without much thought and went downstairs immediately after.

A chorus of good mornings greeted them as soon as they arrived. Completely waking Wanda immediately after.

“I see you’ve holed yourself up in a fancy bed while us poor folks rat it up in a tent.” Sam quipped at them as he drizzled some syrup in his pancakes.

Bewildered, Wanda looked around to find everyone already situated, looking at the two of them.

Without missing a beat, Natasha replied to hint. “Remind me to never go camping with all of you again, you all snore so loud.”

“Except for Wanda?” Steve asks her a beat after, his lips curved into a smile as he asks.

“Yep.” Natasha simply replied, not explaining any further.

“Yeah, sure,” Clint spoke this time as he prepared a cup of coffee.

Wanda ignored Steve and nodded at Clint in greeting. She was about to walk into the kitchen to prepare herself some tea when she heard Vision talk and ask a question.

“I’ve got to ask, is it always required for humans to hold hands the morning after camping?” Vision asked in his usual methodical tone.

Everyone stopped whatever they were doing to find Wanda and Natasha holding hands, which Wanda immediately let go of when she realized. She didn’t notice that she was still holding Natasha until Vision pointed it out to her.

“Only if they need someone to guide them because they are not yet fully awake Vision.” Natasha replied easily as if the other’s weren’t affecting her.

“I see, that would be for the better I guess.” Vision replied as he nodded, accepting her answer after a thought.

Thinking that it was too early for her to deal with their antics, Wanda began to make her way towards the dining table and ignored the collective raise of eyebrows from everyone as she sat beside Pietro. She doesn’t really have the energy right now to deal with them. After a cup of tea, maybe.

“Be back in a second guys, Laura’s probably about to go downstairs with the baby.” She heard Clint told them in the background as she sat down. “I’ll check on Lila and Cooper.”

“Toasty here may have a point,” Pietro whispered to her after he quickly devoured his pancakes.

Wanda ignored him and opted to get a plate for herself. She looked around and found that there wasn’t any tea so she just took some orange juice for herself. Across from her, she found Natasha settling in, a cup of coffee already in her hand.

She then noticed Pietro widening his eyes at her, blinking exaggeratedly at her. It was then that she realized what she was doing and that she closed their mind link.

‘What?” She asks as she chews on her pancake slowly.

‘Nothing.’ He replied with a teasing lilt. His tone is betraying his words.

Wanda brushed it off, she wouldn’t hear the end of it if she started acknowledging it. 

It’s one thing for her to acknowledge it to herself, it's another to say it out loud.

Wanda expertly dodged their teasing this time. Surprisingly, it was easy to do so once she just acknowledged whatever it was she was feeling, and well, accepted it…

Once Sam noticed that Wanda wasn’t that much affected, he narrowed his eyes and became suspicious. She just shrugged and raised her eyebrows at him as she drank her juice, feigning ignorance as she took a bite from her pancake. Bucky on the other hand just smiled to himself when she looked at him.

The breakfast that followed was a whirlwind of chaos, laughter, and teasing. After breakfast, they all dispersed on their own after Clint told them that they could walk around his farm if they wanted. Steve and Bucky volunteered to take care of Cooper and Lila when they asked to accompany them.

Wanda chose to settle down and lounged around in the living room to read a book. Pietro accompanied her, but for all she knew, she was sure that he just wanted to talk to her. She’s sure that he’s just waiting for Natasha - whose also sitting beside her.

“Hey Laura, thanks for having us.” Wanda heard Pietro greet a woman carrying a baby as she slowly made her way downstairs.

“So how’s little Natasha?” Wanda looked up from her book to see Natasha standing up to greet the woman.

“Um…” Laura looked at Clint in confusion who only gave her a sheepish grin. “Are you serious Clint? You didn’t tell her?”

“What?” Clint asked, feigning innocence while still perched on the stairs landing.

“Come on, seriously, you’re her best friend,” Laura told her husband as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Tell me what?” Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“Well, she’s…” Laura presented the baby to her in a onesie with his full name on it. “-Nathaniel.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes playfully and leaned towards the baby and whispered. “Traitor.”

Nathaniel only looked at her and smiled cutely while reaching for her with his little arms.

Natasha smiled as she took him into her arms and commented. “Fat.”

Wanda’s heart softened at the sight. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the sight. This is new. The more time that she stays in Natasha’s presence, she discovers a lot of new things. She never really got to be like this with her last time.

In the background, Clint exclaimed playfully, “Hey, don’t insult my kid!”

Wanda discarded her book at the coffee table as Pietro stood up to approach the others.

“He does look a bit fat…” Pietro joked as he poked the tummy of the baby as Natasha held him. He then noticed the name stitched on Nathaniel’s clothing.

“Pietro?” He looked at Laura and then Clint in question.

Clint slowly walked towards him and rested his hand on his shoulder. “I never got to thank you from before kid.”

Wanda paused as well from hearing Clint’s words. It was the same thing that she heard say out loud to his grave when they held a funeral for him back in her last life. She guessed some things still stay the same.

Laura sucked a breath before turning to him, “If you didn’t…” She trailed off after, not able to finish her words.

For Pietro’s part, he gave them a shaky smile as tears slightly well up in his eyes. He chuckled and joked to keep the conversation light. “Still didn’t warrant me to be the first name?”

“That’s because it’s reserved for best friends,” Natasha replied softly without missing a beat, rocking Nathaniel gently as he leaned back to sleep.

“I don’t see Natasha stitched in his clothes no?” Pietro smirked smugly.

“You’re lucky that he’s asleep right now.” Natasha narrowed her eyes as she replied.

Wanda decided to finally join them, “You two are gonna wake him up with your banter.” She told them softly as she poked her brother on his side to stop his antics.

“Wanda,”

Wanda looked up from her book when she heard Pietro calling her. She’s currently sitting on a deck chair in  Clint’s backyard, soaking up the sun while she’s reading. She closed her book when she saw Pietro approaching her.

“I was looking everywhere for you.” Pietro huffs as he sits on a deck chair beside her.

She set the book down on the table and replied, “You do know that we have a mind link right? You could’ve just asked me where I am.”

“Oh, right… I forgot.” Pietro leaned back to settle on his chair.

They were left in comfortable silence, after a while Wanda broke it. She already knew what he wanted to talk about.

“What is it?” Wanda settled in her chair as well after she asked.

There was a pause before she heard him talk. “You know, I always wanted to be a hero.”

Wanda nodded as she looked at him, it is very rare to see him like this, caught up in his feelings.

“It just hit me that I accomplished it.” Pietro looked back right after.

“You already are one to me, even before.”

“I know, it just didn’t hit me until now.”

There was a lull in their conversation again but Wanda didn’t mind. It felt nice to sometimes just be comfortable in the silence.

But of course, her brother wouldn’t stand on not knowing, “Now are we going to talk about what happened this morning?”

Wanda tried to feign ignorance. “What is it?”

“You and Natasha.” Pietro looked at her pointedly as he replied.

Wanda shrugged and replied. “Nothing happened, you guys just snore loudly that we can't sleep.” She started to stand up but Pietro didn’t let her. “Do you think we could help Laura prepare lunch?” Wanda asked when he didn’t say anything in reply.

“Seriously, I know you, Wanda. Stop diverting my attention.”

Deciding to just get it over with, Wanda sighed as she replied. “Nothing happened Pietro, really.” She insisted when he cast her a doubtful look. “And nothing will happen. I am incapable of doing that right now. I can't afford to.”

I don’t deserve it.

Pietro stared at her for a moment before tilting his head, “Is it because of Vis-”

“No-,” Wanda interjected immediately. “Well, yes, a bit, it's just that…” Wanda sighed as she tried to form the words to explain to her brother what she felt. “I don’t know...”

“You deserve to have someone, Wanda.” Pietro leaned towards her to stress his words. “Someone to take care of you.”

“I already have you and I can take care of myself.” Wanda replied in dismissal of his words.

“Apart from me.” Pietro stressed his words again, looking at Wanda straight in the eye.

“I-I-” Wanda trailed off, not knowing the right words to reply to him.

I feel apprehensive and confused because falling for her means falling out of him. And I have not prepared myself for that. And with him, did I really love him if I could easily fall for her?

So she settled and sighed heavily as she replied. “It’s not my priority right now Pietro.”

Chapter Text

2016. Avengers Compound, New York

March

WANDA

“Wanda, what you are doing is a flagrant violation of every natural law. And if you take that child’s power, she won’t survive.”

Upon hearing those words, words that Strange told her back when he asked for help because she was targeting America, Wanda blinked back hard, because what the hell is happening?

She’s back again in the remote mountains of Sokovia, in her little cabin in the middle of the woods. She can see herself having a conversation with Stephen. Many months after what she did in Westview. When she’s still under the possession of the Darkhold.

No, no, no…

This isn’t supposed to happen… She’s done with this….

She came back in time already. She’s trying to fix it.

Why is she here again?

Wanda tried to reply differently instead of what she initially told Strange before, if anything to try to change the outcome. But it was no use. It was as if her lips were on autopilot and she doesn’t have any control.

“I don’t relish on hurting anyone, Stephen.” She quickly replied a matter of factly as she circles around him without a care. “But she’s not a child. She's a supernatural being. Such raw power could reap havoc on this and other worlds. Her sacrifice would be for the greater good.”

“Well then you can kiss the lunchbox goodbye, because that’s the kind of excuse our enemies use.”

“I think you’re mistaken, Strange.” Wanda simpered. “I never asked for recognition. It’s kind of insulting that you tried to use that as a reason to try and convince me to help you.”

She walked towards him, eyebrows raised. “Now tell me, is it the same excuse that you used? When you gave Thanos the Time Stone?”

Wanda can see Stephen clench his jaw at her dig. “That was war and I did what I had to do.”

“That’s funny. But you traded lives, didn’t you? You saw countless ways on how it could happen and you decided on that?” She chuckled wryly after, as if his reply amused her. “You break the rules and you become the hero. I do it and I become the enemy. That doesn’t seem fair.”

In her head, Wanda is trying everything that she can to take back her words. Because she knows what will happen after this. She’ll massacre every last sorcerer in Kamar Taj.

She wanted it all to stop. Try as she might in every possible way to snap out of it, but nothing seemed to work.

Did she come back?

God, please, no.

And to think that she’s just beginning to be happy…

Wanda kept her eyes shut, trying to deny what’s happening in front of her. But when she opened her eyes, she’s someplace else.

She’s back in her home in Westview.

“Stop it.” She heard someone let out shakily while forcing out a laughter. She then heard laugh tracks playing in the background.

Looking over to her right, she found Mrs. Hart sitting with her and Vision in her dining table, both looking down over someone.

What the hell is going on?

“Stop it.”

Wanda trained her eyes at Mrs. Hart as she heard her words. She then looked down further and sees Mr. Hart lying on their floor, choking all over.

“Stop it.” The laughter in the background can no longer be heard.

But she couldn’t.

Don’t.

She tried to scream at herself but nothing worked. Even if she tried as hard as she could.

“Stop. It.” She heard again almost as if Mrs. Hart is about to cry.

All the other occupants in the room, Vision, Mrs. Hart, and even the man choking on the floor, Arthur Hart looking at her - various glances ranging from unsettled and unsure to downright terrified trained at her.

Her face became a straight line as she looked on at the man lying on the floor back at the woman before her. She was about to tell Vision to help Arthur Hart just like she asked last time but when she blinked, the scene shifted.

She’s now in the living room and it looked like she’s arguing with Vision.

Wanda saw herself letting out an exasperated sigh as she turned to look at Vision. “All of this - what I’m doing, is for us. So let me handle it.”

She tried to walk away from him to end the conversation but he wouldn’t let up.

“Wanda, what is outside of Westview?” Vision asked insistently, his tone hardening as he follows after her.

I’m sorry.

Wanda replied, unwavering and without a care as she sat herself on the couch. “You don’t want to know, I promise you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me, Wanda!” He bellowed as soon as he stood before her.

Wanda stared up at him, clearly distressed. “Y-you’ve never talked to me like this before.”

Please, she never meant for this to happen. How can she make this stop?

“Before what?” Vision asks again as he walked back and forth in front of her.

“-Before what?!” He paused his steps and planted himself firmly in front of her again. “I don’t remember my life before Westview, I don’t know who I am! I’m scared!”

I’m sorry.

“I’m scared, Mommy!”

“Mommy! The witch is back!”

She heard Billy and Tommy call for her other self. She’s in someplace else again, she didn’t need much time to think where she most likely is.

No, no, no.

Not her kids.

God, please, NO!

SHE NEVER MEANT FOR ALL OF THIS TO HAPPEN.

PLEASE, JUST MAKE THIS STOP!

She never wanted to hurt anyone…

I’m sorry.

She was about to assure them that she could never hurt them. That she is not a monster… but she wasn’t able to.

She’s pulled back again in her home in Westview.

She tried to look around for her twins, she wanted to tell them that she’s sorry. She never meant to scare them. She wants to reassure them that she will never hurt them.

But instead, she found Vision in front of her. It seems like their argument keeps on piling up.

And it’s all her fault.

“I spoke with Norm.” Vision let out evenly as he stares at her.

“Oh?” She replied with a quirk of her eyebrows.

“I unearthed the man’s suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight. He was in pain, Wanda.”

She heard herself sigh tiredly before pinching the bridge of her nose due to the oncoming onset of migraine due to their conversation.

“Vision… Listen, can we just…”

Vision didn’t wait for her to finish her words.

“What? Watch TV? Turn in for the night so that you can change everything over again? No, Wanda. You can’t control me the way you do them!”

There was silence that followed after his words, with Wanda just staring up at him.

After a while, Wanda broke it. Craning her neck to the side, scarlet haze reflecting in her iris, as she asks offhandedly.

“Can’t I?”

For what seemed to be the nth time, she blinked back and the scene before her shifted again and She’s now outside. Right in the middle of the square of the town.

What is going on? This must be a nightmare. Right?

When she looked around, she found herself surrounded by the residents of Westview. Scarlet tendrils surroundedd their necks as they all fall down to their knees one by one as they run out of air.

“If you won’t let us go, just let us die. Please.” Wanda heard Mrs. Hart force out as she choked.

“I-I will.” Wanda nodded jerkily, as she felt tear tracks down her face. She didn’t realize that she’s crying already. “I’ll let you go, I’m sorry.”

But she still can’t do it.

“What’s stopping you?” Wanda heard Agatha asks from behind her.

When she turned to fully face her, Agatha raised her eyebrows and taunted. “Heroes don’t torture people Wanda.”

It was still dark outside when Wanda jolted awake, her breath coming in shallow, frantic gasps. Her heart pounded against her chest, and for a moment, she couldn't tell if she was still in the nightmare or back in her bedroom. It left her feeling disoriented. The remnants of the dream clung to her like cobwebs and shadows, the feeling of unease haunting her.

But was it really a nightmare or is it her guilt coming back to haunt her?

Once again, like every night before this, she’s paralyzed with a moment of panic before she realizes that she’s back in her room in the compound. Wanda wonders how long it’s going to take for her to stop expecting to wake up back in where she is, and then she wonders if dreading for that still is a good thing or a bad thing for her sanity.

Wanda got up from her bed after a beat and reached out for her phone on the nightstand to check the date. She could’ve asked FRIDAY but she couldn’t form any coherent thoughts right now.

When she saw the date, she immediately let out a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. Not wanting to dwell on what she dreamt of. Because she knows that if she did, she will be stuck in her head again…

Once she noticed that the time showed that it’s only three in the morning, Wanda figured that she wouldn’t get any sleep because of this. She relented and prepared to go out to the kitchen on her floor to make herself some tea to try and calm down.

When she arrived at the kitchen, she found that it was already occupied.

By Natasha to be exact. It looked like she just got back from a night out and was clearly winding down while she is drinking an orange juice. Seeing Natasha sitting on one of the stools by the counter made Wanda unconsciously relax. Her clenched fist loosened and her gritted teeth slacked.

“What are you doing up in this unholy hours of the night Солнышко?” Natasha greeted her with a smirk. [Russian: Sunshine]

“Do you expect me to do something unholy?” Wanda raised her eyebrows at the older woman.

Natasha didn’t reply and just hummed to herself. Opting to hide her smirk - that Wanda didn’t seem to notice - as she drank her juice while looking over at Wanda.

Wanda gave her a lopsided smile as she walked up to sit with her. She looked over at Natasha for a second before letting out a sigh and shrugged, not really knowing how to explain why she couldn’t get back to sleep.

For a long moment, Wanda let her head rest against the back of the chair, letting Natasha’s steady presence wash over her. The tension in her chest began to loosen, and the shadows of the nightmare started to fade. The warmth of the kitchen and the steady hum of the late hours of the night created a sense of safety for Wanda.

"What's up?"

She heard Natasha after a while. If Wanda was thinking coherently, she probably would have noticed the concern reflecting on Natasha’s words.

"Nothing much. Just couldn't get back to sleep - had a nightmare." Letting out a sigh, Wanda quietly replied. But she doesn't really know how to explain why she's awake in these late hours of the night.

If Natasha noticed the strain in Wanda's voice, she didn't ask her further - to which Wanda is grateful for.

Instead, she felt a warm cup of tea sliding in front of her as she took a seat in one of the bar stools by the counter.

"I just put the chamomile tea in. Let it steep first before you drink it." Natasha let out softly across from her.

A comfortable silence washed over them. Wanda likes this. Not having to explain on things… she appreciates Natasha for being patient with her throughout the months right from where they joined the team.

“I was just… in my bed trying to figure out why sometimes you can wake up and go back to sleep and other times-” Wanda let out a silent huff as she looked over the high windows.  “- you can’t.”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed as she asks Wanda. “Is something bothering you?”

“I don’t know. I-” She paused because she doesn’t really know how to explain what she’s feeling. “It’s just that, I am both happy and sad at the same time, I’m trying to figure out how that could be.”

“Did something happen?”

Wanda blinked, debating if she should reply honestly.

“Not really, just thinking of things that happened in the past.” Wanda replied hollowly.

Natasha hummed thoughtfully as she took a sip of her orange juice. “You want to know what I think?”

“Sure.” Wanda turned to face Natasha. Leaning on the counter as she tiredly rest her elbows down to it, her hand supporting her head.

“We can’t choose where we come from, but we can choose where we go from there.”

There was a lull in their conversation after that but neither of them minded. If any, it gave the two of them time to think of things.

“Do you really think that?” Wanda asks as she blink towards Natasha tiredly. Momentarily wondering how Natasha could somehow always have an inkling of what she’s thinking or feeling.

“I know so.”

Wanda looked at Natasha for a moment before nodding to herself. She then finally took a sip from the team Natasha set out for her. “How do you say so?”

Natasha shrugged and shifted to face her. She took the teacup that Wanda had just finished along with her juice glass and put it on the dishwasher. “In the grand scheme of things, all we ever really have is our choice.”

After a few moments of quiet, Wanda hesitated. The idea of going back to her room, where the nightmare still haunted the edges of her mind, felt almost impossible. Her eyes flicked toward the hallway leading to her room, her chest tightening again at the thought of stepping back into the shadows of her own space.

Natasha, noticing the hesitation, walked around the counter towards her.

“Hey, it’s okay,” She said gently, offering her hand.  “You don’t have to go back in there if you’re not ready. How about you sleep in my room tonight? Just until you feel better.”

Wanda looked up at her, feeling like the offer is a lifeline. Throughout the months that She’s with the team, aside from her twin, she had always felt safer with Natasha, the steady warmth of her presence like a shield against the things that scared her. But even then, a part of her resisted, the weight of the nightmare still pressing down on her.

“I don’t want to make you... uncomfortable.” Wanda whispered, her voice wavering for a bit. Knowing that what Natasha is offering is a big part of her. She knows that Natasha doesn’t usually do this.

She’s known the woman in both of her lifetime and she’s pretty sure that she doesn’t usually do this to anyone. And that thought filled her with warmth that Wanda couldn’t explain.

Natasha shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You’re my friend, де́тка. I’d never be uncomfortable with you. Besides, you don’t need to be alone right now, c’mon.”

Wanda hesitated for a moment longer before nodding, allowing herself to be gently guided toward Natasha’s room. The comfort of Natasha’s offer, the promise of her unwavering support, was all she needed to finally let go of the anxiety that had been gripping her.

Natasha’s room was cozy and warm, a safe haven. The soft light from the bedside lamp spilled across the bed, casting a peaceful glow over the room. Wanda walked over to the side of the bed, hesitating as she reached for the covers. Natasha had already pulled them back, her voice soothing as she spoke again.

“You don’t have to stay awake if you don’t want to,” Natasha said, her eyes full of understanding. “You can just rest here. I’m right beside you.”

Wanda nodded, her heart still heavy with the remnants of the nightmare, but grateful for the comfort that she offered. She slid under the covers, feeling the softness of the pillow beneath her head. Natasha climbed in beside her, the warmth of her body immediately surrounding her like a protective cocoon. Wanda couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this safe, this cared for barring her brother.

It only took a few moments before Wanda’s breathing slowed. The tension in her body began to melt away, the rhythmic sound of Natasha’s soft breathing beside her grounding her further. The nightmare seemed so far away now, replaced by the steady, comforting presence of Natasha. The fear and guilt that had once held her tight in its grip loosened as she allowed herself to relax.

Sensing the shift, Natasha carefully wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulders, pulling her into a gentle embrace. The gesture was simple, yet it was all Wanda needed. The warmth of Natasha’s arms, the steady beat of her heart, the quiet comfort of knowing she was safe, all of it settled over Wanda like a blanket, wrapping her in the peace she hadn’t known since the nightmare had started.

Without another word, Wanda drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. The softness of the bed, the familiar scent of Natasha’s room, and her warmth beside her were enough to carry her into a dreamless slumber.

Natasha lay awake for a moment, watching as Wanda’s face softened with sleep, her breathing steady. A quiet sense of relief washed over her. Soon after, Natasha herself succumbed to sleep, comforted by the warmth of the other beside her. And for the first time that night, both of them slept soundly, free from the lingering shadows of fear.

The first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. Wanda stirred slowly, blinking against the light, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. Then she found Natasha was beside her, curled up gently in her arms, her face tucked into Wanda’s neck, her breathing soft and steady. She remembered finally being able to go back to sleep but in a much different position than what they’re in right now - it’s kind of cute that they switched places while they’re asleep.

Wanda let herself smile (only because no one is looking) her heart warming at the sight of Natasha having a moment of peace. But as the morning light gradually filled the room, the concern from last night lingered in the back of her mind. She knows that she had been so shaken, so caught up in the remnants of her nightmare. And now that she thinks about it, Natasha at first, hadn’t been sure how to help her, but last night, with Wanda asleep in Natasha’s arms, it felt like a quiet kind of relief had settled over them both.

Carefully, so as not to disturb her, Wanda shifted slightly, glancing down at Natasha’s peaceful face. She had been worried, and though it seemed like the nightmare was finally behind her, Wanda can still feel herself wincing whenever she thought back on it.

Natasha stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. For a few moments, she didn’t seem to realize where she was. Then, as her gaze settled on Wanda, her expression softened.

“Good morning,” Wanda mumbled softly, embarrassed by the thought that Natasha caught her looking over at her like a creep. 

“Good morning, Солнышко.”  Natasha replied groggily, her voice still heavy with sleep, though there was still a trace of concern in it. She watched as Natasha sat up slightly, stretching out her arms, then looking around the room with a slight sense of confusion. [Russian: Sunshine]

“How did you sleep?” Natasha asked, her tone more cautious than usual. She could still feel the echoes of Wanda’s fear from the night before, and the memory of how she had clung to Natasha for comfort tugged at her.

Wanda paused, her gaze shifting toward Natasha. A small, tired smile appeared on her face. “Honestly? It was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

She shifted and stretched herself on the bed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She let it stay there, trying to cover her eyes from the brightness of the light slowly pushing through the windows.

“I was so scared when I woke up last night, but being here with you... I felt safe. I actually slept. No nightmares. Just... peace.” She looked at Natasha, her voice soft and full of gratitude. “I… I haven’t felt this relaxed in so long. Thank you for being here.”

Natasha’s heart lifted at the words, but a flicker of concern remained in her eyes. “I’m glad you could sleep, but you still seemed really shaken last night. Are you sure you're okay?”

Wanda shifted again ad stared at the ceiling, contemplating on how to answer. She glanced at Natasha with a small, reassuring smile, the lingering unease still evident in her eyes, but not as overwhelming.

“I don’t know why these nightmares suddenly occurred to me but last night… But once I saw you in the kitchen... I guess I just needed to know I wasn’t alone. That helped more than I can even explain.” She paused, looking down for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again, but I did. I actually rested, Nat. You gave me that. I feel... better today. Thank you…”

Natasha nodded slowly, her hand reaching out to gently touch Wanda’s arm. “You’re not alone. Not ever, Wanda. We’re a team now. I’ll always be here for you.”

Wanda smiled softly, her gaze softening as she looked at her. “I know. And that means the world to me.” She exhaled deeply, her shoulders loosening as the last remnants of tension faded.

But in the back of her head, Wanda couldn’t help but think that Natasha, like the others will eventually leave her in the end.

They always have and they always will.

She can’t help it, experience has taught her otherwise.

Natasha broke her out of her thoughts and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “If you need me again, day or night, I’m here. Always.”

The morning slipped by quietly as the two women lay in bed facing each other, the covers tangled around them as they chatted lazily about anything and everything. The soft hum of the outside world, the distant sounds of traffic and birds, filled the space in between their words.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible thread, Wanda shifted and turned to get closer to look at Natasha, a soft smile playing on her lips. The two of them stared at each other, the space in between the two just a few inches.

“You know, Talia, I-”

Natasha’s eyebrow suddenly quirked playfully at her, an amused smirk creeping onto her face. “Wait, what did you just call me?”

Wanda blinked, the realization dawning on her far too late. She brought her hands to her face as if to hide them but Natasha took both of her hands and held it. “Oh my god,” Wanda groaned, her cheeks turning bright red. “I- I meant Natasha! I don’t even know why I said that, I-”

Wanda heard Natasha let out a laugh, a rare genuine sound that made Wanda want to shrink into herself even more. Well, she also kind of wants to hear it more often. She then chided herself because of that thought.

“Talia, huh?” Natasha asks teasingly, leaning in slightly, closing the space between her and Wanda even more. “Where did that come from?”

Wanda turned her head to avoid Natasha’s questioning gaze. Looking everywhere but towards her. “I don’t know! It must’ve just… slipped out. I feel so stupid.”

Natasha let go of Wanda’s hands and nudged her shoulder playfully. “Hey, don’t sweat it. No one’s ever called me that before.” She paused, tilting her head. “I kinda like it, actually.”

Wanda jerked her head back to look towards Natasha in surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Natasha replied with a smirk. “But only you get to use it. Just like you’re the only one I allowed to call me by my birth name again.”

Wanda cleared her throat, still flustered but now more curious than embarrassed. “You’re okay with it? Just like that?”

“Yep,” Natasha easily agreed.

At that moment, Wanda thought that their conversation would turn towards where Wanda usually tried to steer clear from. To her relief, Natasha went the other.

“Do you know what the name… Talia means?” Natasha looked at her fully as she asked.

“No, at least I don’t think so…” Wanda trailed off, not sure of where Natasha’s question is heading, she tilted her head for a moment before continuing. “What does it mean?”

Natasha exhaled and shifted to her back, looking up at the ceiling, as if pulling the answers from the blank space above them. “It means ‘new arrival in your life’ or new hope.”

For a moment, Wanda’s heart nearly stopped as Natasha’s words echoed through her.

New Arrival.

She swallowed, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

Not yet at the least.

Scratch that.

They’re not headed there, they’re barreling straight through towards it…

Silence took over the two of them and Wanda wasn’t sure if she liked the quiet more.

As if sensing the shift in Wanda, she heard Natasha call for her as she glanced back toward Wanda.

“Wanda?”

Wanda decided to not overthink things. She shook her head, a small, almost shy smile forming on her lips. “Nothing. I just… I think it fits.” She finally replied, her words hidden behind double meanings.

Natasha’s lips curved into a smile at Wanda’s reply. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wanda said softly, holding her gaze. “It does.”

After a while, Natasha shifted in her bed to fully look at Wanda. Her arm supporting her head as she looks over at her.

“I’ve got to say, it’s been months, but your abilities don’t cease to amaze me.”

Surprised by her words, Wanda raised her eyebrow in question. Prompting Natasha to continue.

“I’m quite curious about what else you can do. I haven’t told the others but know that I’ve noticed that you were holding back.” Natasha nudged her softly, telling Wanda that her words shouldn’t be taken the wrong way.

Wanda shrugged and laughed lightly because it is kind of true.

“Why do you want to know?” Wanda asks after a while, genuinely curious as to why Natasha is heavily interested.

Natasha let her arms slack, making her head rest on her bed, “Well, it’s a part of you for starters,”

Wanda blinked back at her as she heard Natasha’s words. Her heartwarming because of her words. Because she didn’t know that that is what she needed to hear. Especially with what she had dreamt of last night…

“And I guess I’m curious how you link your minds with Pietro works. Pietro mentioned that it’s just like being in coms with you - only without the chances of signal interference.” Natasha smirked up at Wanda as she joked making Wanda crack a smile.

Wanda sucked in a breath before she offered something that she never that she would actually get to. “Would you like to try?”

Sensing the gravity of Wanda’s offer, Natasha gave her a small smile. “Only if you want to.”

Wanda’s lips curled into a small smile as she shifted closer. Soft crimson coloured her eyes as Wanda was about to lean in and rest her forehead against Natasha but they were suddenly interrupted by Vision phasing through Natasha’s room. Making Wanda sit up suddenly.

“Oh. Good morning. I wasn’t aware you were… occupied.” Vision announced himself, oblivious to the disturbance that he caused.

“Miss Romanoff, would you mind me asking why Wanda is in your room?” He asks with an inquisitive tone not long after.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at the Android not really bothering to reply as she continued to lie down in her bed.

Wanda was the one who replied to him. “Vision, we talked about this.” Wanda groaned out as she rubs her temple. “How many times do I have to say this? Use the door.”

Vision looked between them, then blinked again. “Oh, I was looking for the both of you. I thought that-” Vision trailed off as he turned back to point at the door. “Would you like me to phase back out and return through the door?”

Natasha didn’t say anything and looked at him in bemusement with a quirk of her eyebrows.

“Too late for that, buddy.” After a moment, she replied and asks, “Why were you looking for us anyway?”

“I came to inform you both that Mr. Stark has just arrived at the compound and requests for all of our presence.”  Vision informed them in his usual composed manner, his hands behind his back.

“And?”

"Oh, and apparently he's brought a guest.”

Wanda blinked back as her heart suddenly raced. Because she has an idea of what was about to happen.

“A guest?” Natasha narrowed her eyes

“Yes.” Vision nodded.

Wanda exchanged a glance with Natasha before looking back at Vision. “Who?”

“The Secretary of the State.”

Wanda and Natasha arrived with the others already seated in. She saw Steve and Bucky already seated next to each other right along with Sam on one side while Rhodes, Vision and Tony sat across from them. Knowing what was about to happen, Wanda decided not to sit in the table this time and chose to sit by one of the couches at the end of the room. Pietro sat in beside her while giving her a look of unease. She couldn’t blame him, since he knew as well what was about to happen.

Surprisingly, Natasha didn’t sit in the table and chose to sit beside her as well. Once they’re all seated in, Ross began his self-righteous monologue that made Wanda want to roll her eyes out of its socket.

She wanted to talk to her brother but figured that she shouldn’t, given the gravity of the situation.

“The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives. But while a great many people see you as heroes…”

Thaddeus Ross began as he looked at each and every one of them in the room except for one. He then trained his gaze at Bucky and looked at him pointedly which put Steve, Wanda, and Pietro on edge.

“-there are some who would prefer the word vigilantes.”

Wanda looked over at Bucky and can see him clenching his jaws.

His words left the room in total silence. Unsure of what to say.

“What word would you use Mr. secretary?” Natasha asks, as she rests her hand on Wanda’s thigh. Immediately calming Wanda down, she didn’t even realize that she’s already on edge because of him.

“How about dangerous?” Ross replied without missing a beat as he turned to look at Natasha. He then glanced at Wanda and Pietro and continued, “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose, and who frankly seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

The room was left in silence once again after his reply. Ross pressed a button on the remote that he’s holding onto and the large screen behind him began to display what looked like an official-looking document, displaying the words The Accords Initiative alongside the emblem of United Nation.

“New York.” Ross said simply as he tapped onto a button again which then began to play a series of videos showing Hulk and the damages he did in the city. The statistics of casualty count indicating numbers going high by the second on the side.

“D.C.”

It then played back to Bucky making damages left and right back when he was still mind controlled by HYDRA then with Steve, Sam, and Natasha trying to stop him. It showed the rogue helicarriers shooting anything and everything, as well as the destruction it caused when it crashed.

“Now for Seoul, Johannesburg, and Lagos,” He pressed a button that played back the events that happened then and paused when it showed Wanda in action.

“Now in these three locations, you can thank this woman right here.” He looked at Wanda and raised his eyebrows at her. “You did great on this regard by fixing infrastructures, creating a positive rep and what not, but… it's not enough.”

Wanda tensed after his words and she felt Natasha again squeeze her thigh, keeping her present and not go spiral.

“What about New York?” Ross walked from one end of the room to the other, circling the meeting table as he addresses them. “Do you have any idea of the whereabouts of Thor and The Hulk?”

No one from the Avengers replied. Because who in their right mind would rat out one of their own? And if they did manage to get that information out from either one of them, how can they possibly get to the two of them? Their technology isn’t as advance as they seem to believe - not unless Stark suddenly supported him.

“What bout DC? Imagine the world's surprise when the people who was fighting it out in DC joined hands just a year after in Lagos?” He looked at Steve as if to taunt him.

He then looked at Bucky whose eyes is still fixed on the screen playing the events of what happened in DC on a loop. “Did you consider what the public would think?”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Steve interjected as Wanda began to sit straight.

She noticed that Pietro quickly mirrored her action, always on the lookout and support.

Ross ignored him and produced a paperback of the Accords and gave them each a copy. “For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's the arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate.”

For the first time since she got into the room, Wanda replied, “What does that mean for us?”

Wanda quickly began and finished reading the Accords by using her powers. After her, she gave the copy to Pietro who finished reading it after a second as well. To others, it would look like the Twins just glanced and held the paperback for a second but in that time, they were already done reading the Accords.

And Wanda… Wanda has a lot to say regarding it.

“There is a proposition. A possible solution. That is approved by 117 countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, you'll operate under supervision.” He then looked at Wanda briefly when he noticed her eyes turning scarlet for a second. “With incidents like New York and what I have shown you, the world has made itself clear.”

Wanda felt Natasha’s hand leaving her thighs as the other crossed her arms. “And if we come to a decision that you don't like?”

Ross looked pointedly at Natasha and took his time before replying. “Let's hope that it doesn’t come to that shall we? Especially when it comes to you and Mr. Barnes.”

After hearing his reply, Wanda couldn’t help but jump into the conversation. She rested her arm in the back of the couch behind Natasha, forcing herself to look relax (although she’s anything but) as she leans back and replied to Ross. "What about our lawyer?"

Wanda’s words made the others’ attention shift from Natasha to her.

“Lawyers? What makes you think that you'll ever need that?” Ross asked her, looking a bit perturbed with how she wasn’t affected by what he’s saying.

Wanda offered a small smirk, reminiscent of her brother’s, “Well for starters, I just think that there shouldn't be any personal feelings involved when it comes to this delicate matter. And aside from that, I think your involvement on this matter is a telling in itself. I think we will need it.” She raised her eyebrows at him, ignoring the various gaze from the others. “No, scratch that. We do need it in the case that this turns into a legal battle.”

Silence filled the room right after her reply towards the Secretary.

“I didn’t expect that to come from you.” Ross began to walk towards her, Wanda didn’t back down and looked back at him, her gaze not wavering. “What do you have on me?”

“I've read your files and there's some things that just stick out to me.” Wanda paused and narrowed her eyes as she noticed him getting closer. “Two names. Bruce Banner and Betty Ross.”

Wanda scoffed lightly when she noticed his steps faltering. “One reason could be personal I think, but it was no secret of what you did with Banner. And by deduction, it was a no brainer of your plans or thoughts regarding this.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Ross asked, daring her to continue.

“You wanted to dissect Banner and weaponize him. Do you have plans to do the same to us?” Wanda finished her query with a pointed look.

The others in the room looked bewildered and turned from Ross back to Wanda as they converse in turn.

Ross sputtered and vehemently denied. “That's a blatant accusation Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda leaned back into the couch as she took control of the conversation, “Is it? Because I just finished reading this proposition of yours.” Wanda held out a hand towards her twin to which Pietro in turn handed back the paperback copy of the Accords to her, she then turned the pages and when she found a specific one, pointed it and shown it to the others.

“Article 3. Section 7.”

Wanda began to read out loud what was indicated. “The Union panel is entitled to regulate powered individuals. All enhanced individuals are required to reveal their individual identities, provide biometric data, and fully disclose their abilities.”

“What?” Wanda heard Tony quietly speak for the first time.

Continuing, Wanda raised her eyebrows towards the Secretary, prompting him to explain. “Care to explain that to the rest of us Secretary Ross? How does this registration thing work? You put us on a list, then what?"

"Well, we collect fingerprints, DNA samples. We run a power analysis to categorize your threat level which is also used to determine health risks."

Wanda looked at him for a moment, taking her time to reply.

“Somehow I doubt that will be the end of that.”

2016. Avengers Compound, New York

March

NATASHA

After Ross abruptly left the meeting room that they’re in for them to talk it out, they were all left in silence. Especially with Wanda’s relentless questioning of the man.

The tension in the room was palpable. Natasha can feel that a debate that could change the course of their lives would most likely happen now. The issue at hand was of course the Accords— the government legislation designed to regulate superhero activity—and the room was divided.

Tony, stood at the front of the room, his usual confidence tempered by the gravity of the discussion. He paced back and forth, his voice steady but urgent.

“We can’t keep doing this, guys,” Tony said, gesturing around the room. “The world is changing, and the threats are more serious than ever. If we don’t operate under some kind of oversight, there’s no telling what will happen. The Accords may not be perfect, but they’re the only way forward. We have to show the world that we’re willing to be held accountable for our actions.”

Rhodes, standing beside him, nodded in agreement. His face was lined with the same weariness as Tony’s. He had seen firsthand the kind of damage their unregulated actions had caused, and he knew that oversight, while imperfect, was necessary.

“Tony’s right,” Rhodes added. “We’re not above the law. And that’s not just for us—it’s for the safety of everyone. If we’re going to keep doing what we do, we need a system in place. One that makes sure we’re acting in the best interest of the world, not just our own interests.”

“You should be telling that to your best friend then.” Natasha heard Pietro quietly mumble over at Wanda’s side, which Wanda quietly hummed in agreement.

Natasha’s sure that no one heard what he said aside from her and Wanda. If she’s being honest with herself, she does agree with Pietro in that regard. But not to a degree, she still had a part in what happened in New York and DC after all.

Steve on the other side of the room wasn’t so easily convinced. He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall, his eyes hard as he looked at Tony and Rhodey. The idea of government control grated against everything he stood for.

“No,” Steve said simply, shaking his head. “This isn’t about accountability. This is about control. The Accords are a way for the government to dictate our actions, to make us their puppets. They get to decide when we act, when we fight. Who’s to say they won’t abuse that power? The world’s a mess, but signing away our freedom isn’t the answer.”

Bucky whose standing a few feet behind Steve, added his voice with a quiet but firm intensity. His past as the Winter Soldier had made him wary of any kind of control, especially when it came to the government. He knew firsthand the consequences of being manipulated, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

“I’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of control,” Bucky said, his eyes sharp. “They’ll use us until we’re no longer useful, and then they’ll discard us. The Accords might look like a nice, tidy solution, but it’s just another way for them to put us in chains. I won’t be part of it.”

Sam, who had been standing with Steve and Bucky, nodded his agreement. His voice was strong as he stepped forward.

“Yeah, I’ve got to agree. We’ve always done what we thought was right, not what someone else told us was right. You want to sign that paper, you’re saying we need permission to act. And what happens when we disagree with them? When they decide we’re not needed anymore? I’m not going to let anyone pull the strings.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed Sam’s words, and then Natasha spoke, her voice calm but measured. She had always walked the line between loyalty and caution, and now, as she listened to the debate, she found herself caught in the middle.

“I’ve been on both sides of this,” Natasha said, leaning forward slightly. “There’s a balance we need to find. Yes, we need accountability. But no, we can’t let it go too far. The Accords may be a start, but they’re not the answer to everything. If we sign it, we need guarantees—protections for us. We need safeguards. Otherwise, it’s just another form of control.”

Wanda, who had been sitting quietly beside her twin brother, Pietro, looked conflicted. She had seen firsthand the chaos that could arise from unchecked power, but she also knew the pain of being controlled. The thought of someone else deciding when she could act was something she couldn’t easily accept.

“I know you’ve heard of what I’ve said earlier and frankly, I’m not sure I can believe in the Accords,” Wanda said quietly, her eyes flickering between Tony and Steve. “Maybe we do need rules, but these rules feel... wrong. What happens when we make a mistake? Who takes responsibility then? Can we trust the people who want to control us?”

Pietro, added his thoughts with a sharp, biting tone.

“Control, freedom, rules—everything’s a gamble. Maybe Stark’s right, maybe we need structure, but who decides when that structure is broken? We’re all just one mistake away from being the next target. And who’s going to save us then?”

Tony, became visibly frustrated but still remained calm. He understood the fear—he had it too, in a way. If anything, Natasha thinks that he’s pushing for it because of his guilt. For what he did to create ULTRON.

“I get it,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “I do. But if we don’t do something now, there won’t be a choice. The world will force us into a corner. We need oversight. We need the ability to show we can act responsibly. The Accords might not be perfect, but they’re better than doing nothing.”

Steve shook his head, his voice firm. “Doing nothing is better than signing our freedom away. The government doesn’t get to decide when we fight, Tony. We do. We fight for what’s right, not because someone tells us to.”

“But we have to take accountability. We’re not above the law.” Tony insisted.

“And so are they.” Steve replied in turn. “Who’s to say that they won’t use us as a weapon and-”

Pietro cut off whatever Steve was about to say, clearly frustrated with how Tony’s dealing with all of this. He admits that he let go of his resentment of Stark because of Wanda and whatever happened to her in her past but his actions right now made him remember why he used to hate him in the first place.

“Accountability?” Pietro sarcastically asks him as he leaned forward from where he’s sitting and pinned Tony with his gaze.

“In New York, there is an alien invasion,” Pietro began, “In DC, HYDRA literally infiltrated SHIELD. Bucky was brain washed. Sam, Steve, and Natasha were doing what they could. But you? What's your excuse? You made those robots, you made ULTRON. That's on YOU. Sure, you created him for the reason that you wanted to protect earth. A failsafe you say. But it backfired spectacularly. Instead of protecting it like you intended, it did the opposite instead.”

Natasha turned to look from Pietro towards Tony who looked visibly upset the more Pietro called him out. “Usually, when people became paranoid they don’t do drastic shits like this. But then again, not a lot of people have access to techs like you.”

There was a lull in the conversation after what Pietro said. Each of them not really knowing how to pick up the conversation after he called Tony out like that.

Wanda continued from where it left off after a while. She took the paperback copy of the Accords again and began flipping it to another page, when she found what she’s looking for, she turned it again towards the others in the room before reading out loud.

“Article 4. Section 2. In compliance with the Accords, those with innate powers must also wear tracking bracelets at all times.”

Wanda didn’t read further and just raised her eyebrows at Tony.

Tony doesn’t have an explanation for that section this time.

“Case in point.” Pietro mirrored his Twin’s actions and raised his eyebrows as he continued. “How do you explain that Stark?”

Rhodes looked between Tony, Steve, and Pietro, torn but resolute.

“I’m not saying we should give up our freedom,” Rhodes said slowly. “But we can’t keep going on like this. The world’s watching us. The Accords won’t solve everything, but it’s a start.”

Wanda’s gaze softened slightly as she looked around the room. “I don’t know what the right answer is,” she murmured. “But I don’t want to be controlled. Not like that. As selfish as it sounds, I would rather live my life as a civilian. But I doubt that even as a civilian, they would just let enhanced individuals be. Like what they said on paper.”

Pietro shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I agree. That seems too good to be true.”

With a sigh, Wanda finally stood from the couch that she’s sitting on and faced the others.

“I think we all have different understanding in regards to this. But it all boils down to two things. Liberty or Security. Let’s be honest here, Ross wanted to be in charge of the Avengers. It was never really about the Accords.”

“That’s not-” Vision tried to contradict her statement this time but Wanda’s not having it.

"Think of it this way, the Accords might be handy for keeping tabs on enhanced individuals in the field, but regulating them seems a bit of a political pipe dream. Plus, I don't see Thor signing on a dotted line if he ever shows up again."

Natasha looked at both sides, her mind racing. The tension in the room had reached its peak. She could see both sides of the argument, and she wasn’t sure where she stood. There were too many unknowns, too many risks.

“We need to talk more,” she said finally, her voice quiet but decisive. “We’re not going to solve this today. But we need to talk, really talk, and figure out what’s best. We can’t just rush into this.”

And so, the discussion continued, unresolved and simmering with emotion. 

It had been a good day—surprisingly calm, almost. No fights, no violent outbursts. Just words. The kind that could change everything. The Accords had been signed, and the media was already buzzing with questions—specifically, why certain Avengers had refused to sign.

Tony, Vision, and Rhodey had agreed to place themselves under government control, to follow the rules. But for Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, it wasn’t that simple.

That was the day where Natasha had dreaded putting her face out in public. The media had gone into a frenzy the moment that they heard that most of the Avengers refused to sign the Accords and chose the civilian life.

Well, it varies mostly. The reactions of the general public ranges from them curious why most won’t sign and others in the team would. And to some questioning why they won’t sign. Hell, some even worries that the Avengers will no longer be in operation because of this. They treat them as if they’re a boy band about to disband or something - which annoys her a lot if she’s being honest. But if thinks about it, it is kind of true. It would be more likely to be that happening now more than ever.

She remembered standing in the press room, watching the flashes of cameras, hearing the distant murmur of reporters talking about the Avengers like they were just another story to sell. To them, it wasn’t real. To them, it was just politics.

But it was real. Every decision they made, every life they’d taken and saved, was real. Natasha’s hands tightened on the podium as she scanned the room, her thoughts swirling. The decision to not sign the Accords hadn’t been easy. It never was. But she was certain it was the right one.

As the press began to shout questions, trying to catch someone off-guard, Natasha stepped forward. "We didn’t sign because the Accords give too much power to people who don't understand what we've been through," she said, her voice clear and steady. "We’ve fought battles where no one asked for permission. We’ve faced threats that didn’t care about borders or rules."

The murmurs in the room shifted, but Natasha wasn’t finished. “The Avengers don’t follow orders. We make our own decisions. We know the cost of every choice we make.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "And we’re not going to sign away our right to do that.”

Steve’s voice joined hers, calm but firm. “We’re not against accountability. But we’re not going to be controlled. Not now, not ever.”

A sharp flash of light hit Natasha's eyes, but she didn’t flinch. She knew what was coming. Of how the media would spin this.

The fight had been harder than expected, especially when Tony’s name had been mentioned. He had been the one pushing for the Accords, believing that they would bring peace, but now, his stance seemed shaky. The truth was, the Avengers were a family. And families weren’t always perfect.

Natasha had watched the other side of it all from a distance. She’d seen Tony’s idealism and felt the intense pressure of being constantly under the microscope. He had a heart, but sometimes, he was so caught up in what he thought was best for everyone that he couldn't see when he was being reckless.

But the press didn’t let up. The questions came faster, sharper, more insistent. "What happens when you disagree with the government? What’s stopping you from going rogue? Are you all planning to defy orders when it suits you?"

Natasha felt the weight of those questions. They were the ones everyone feared—the ones who didn’t follow the rules. She glanced over at Steve, at Bucky, whose eyes were hard with conviction. She could see it in the way Sam stood tall, the way Pietro clenched his jaw, and the way Wanda shifted closer to her. They had all been through too much to be treated like children.

“We’ve been there,” Steve said, his voice steady. “We’ve fought Hydra, we’ve fought each other, and we’ve fought ourselves. We’ve been controlled, manipulated, and forced into situations that weren’t ours to control. But we’ve never given up on the people we’re trying to protect.”

Natasha knew what Steve was doing. He was trying to make the point that they weren’t criminals, that they didn’t take their power lightly. And she agreed with him. But the world would not see them as heroes anymore. The headlines would scream “Avengers Reject Accountability!” and the whispers would follow them everywhere.

She caught Tony’s eye from across the room. His face was impassive, but she could feel the storm brewing inside him. He had always been the one who wanted rules, wanted to ensure they didn’t get out of control. And now, he was one of the signatories—one of the ones who had agreed to put themselves under the government’s thumb.

But they couldn’t sign. Not like this. Not when they were asked to bend their will to a system that had never understood them. Not when they knew that the system, however well-intentioned, could turn against them at any moment.

And so, the decision had been made. There was no going back.

Weeks passed, and the media frenzy didn’t die down. Natasha could feel the weight of every eye on her, every rumor that spread like wildfire. The world was split down the middle—half of them saw the Avengers as vigilantes, a group that refused to be held accountable, while the other half cheered them on as the last hope for freedom in a world that was becoming increasingly controlled.

But Natasha wasn’t concerned with headlines. Not anymore. She had made her choice. The others had made theirs. And they had to live with it.

It had been two weeks since the Accords were signed, and Natasha had expected the tension to cool off. But it only escalated.

Natasha stood outside by the door of the compound, silently keeping track of the others as they go about on their own. A few steps away from her, Wanda and Pietro were deep in conversation, their whispers carrying on the cool breeze that flowed through the open window. Steve was inside with Sam in the living room, the two of them uncharacteristically silent.  And Barnes, well, the last she heard from Steve is he went on his way towards the gym.

And then, a sudden noise broke the quiet.

Tony arrived abruptly in the compound without letting up. Leaving Natasha, Wanda, and Pietro to quickly follow behind him as he made his way inside.

The door slammed open and Tony walked into the room with fury in his eyes.

“Where is he?” he demanded, voice like gravel, cutting through the tension.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked him as he slowly stood up from the couch, a bit wary of Tony.

“James Barnes. Where the hell is he?” Tony asked again, gritting his teeth.

Natasha didn’t know what to do at what is happening in front of her. This is the first time that she had seen Tony like this. He had never seen him so angry - until now.

Steve stood up slowly, placing himself between Tony and the hallway leading towards the gym. "This isn’t the time, Tony," he said, his voice low and steady.

But Tony was beyond reason. "You lied to me," he said, the words barely escaping through clenched teeth. "You didn’t tell me the truth about my parents. About him."

The room seemed to collapse in on itself, the weight of Tony’s words hanging in the air like a toxic cloud. Natasha’s heart raced. She immediately realized what had happened—she had seen the same devastation in Tony’s eyes when he learned the truth about his parents’ deaths, and now it was all coming to a head.

“Tony… I-” Steve tried again but he was at a loss.

“Did you know?” Tony cut him off sharply.

Natasha looked at Wanda asking what they should do and saw her shaking her head.

Steve slowly blinked at him before letting out a sigh. “I didn't know it was him.”

But Tony wasn’t listening. He shook his head as he asks again, his voice raising. “Don't bullshit me, Rogers! Did you know?”

The tension in the room was palpable. Natasha could feel the electricity in the air, the rush of adrenaline, even though no one had moved.

After a moment of silence, Steve finally replied. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

NATASHA

With Steve’s confirmation, Tony steps back, his chin jutting upwards in disbelief.

"You knew," Tony said, his voice breaking on the last word. "You knew that he killed my parents. You knew it was him on that motorcycle. And you never said a word."

Natasha's head snapped to Steve. She looked at Wanda, at Pietro, at Sam, but their faces were as shocked as she was. They all looked to Steve for an answer, for a denial, but he just stood there, his shoulders slumped, unable to meet their eyes. The silence was his confession.

At that moment, Natasha became worried because it looked like Tony’s deciding on whether to activate his suit and fight it out with him. But surprisingly, he didn’t. At least, for now. He squeezed his eyes tight and turned his back from him.

“Why?” Natasha heard Tony let out quietly, his fists clenched. “You let me walk around blind. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

Natasha and the others heard Steve quietly reply as he slowly walks towards him. “Tony, we’ve been through enough together. You don’t need to do this.”

But it was too late. Tony had already made up his mind. The anger was there.

“I want answers,” Tony snapped. “You didn’t think I’d find out?” Tony spat, his eyes locking with Steve’s, full of accusation. “You didn’t think this would come to light?”

“It wasn't him, Tony. HYDRA had control of his mind.” Steve’s shoulder slumped and avoids eye contact as he tries to explain but Tony wasn’t having it.

“You make it seem like that would somehow make things easier.” Tony glared at him before looking over his shoulders towards Natasha and the others. “It doesn’t.”

“Tony, I know -” Steve tried to speak to him again but he wasn’t having it.

“Save it!” He bellowed. His voice cracking with a mixture of rage and bitter disbelief. He slammed a tablet down on the coffee table, the screen showing James’ face in stark clarity. "I saw the report, Steve. I saw his face. I saw what he did." His eyes were wild, darting from Steve and to Natasha. "Tell me, did you know as well?"

Natasha finally spoke, her voice calm and even. "Tony, I-” Natasha wanted to comfort him, to say something, anything, but it looked like he’s unconsolable. She sighed before continuing. “We didn’t know..."

Natasha felt Wanda step beside her as she speaks to Tony. "Stark, take a breath. Fighting won’t solve this, believe me. We can figure this out -"

"There's nothing to figure out, Wanda!" Tony cut her off, his gaze burning a hole through Steve. "He made a choice. He chose him. Over me. Over everyone else."

The words weren't just angry; they were devastating. Steve flinched as if physically struck. The air crackled with unspoken grief and rage. Natasha saw the fracture line form right then and there.

Natasha saw that Wanda was about to say something again, but she held Wanda’s hand and squeezed it. Fearing that things would go worse. She then looked at Wanda as she shake her head quietly.

She saw Wanda let out a breath and squeezed her eyes shut when she realized what Natasha was asking. She then nodded and just looked on at the two men arguing in front of them.

Tony took a single, deliberate step back from Steve, the anger in his eyes hardening into something cold and final. "We're done talking," he said, his voice quiet but far more chilling than any shout. He turned on his heel, his back to Steve, and started walking toward the doors.

"Tony, wait. Just-" Steve reached out, his hand wrapping around Tony's arm. A desperate, pleading gesture.

Tony paused his footsteps, but didn't turn. For a moment, everything stopped. Then, with a sudden, sharp twist, Tony pulled his arm free from Steve's grip. He spun around, and his gaze was no longer just angry; it was deadly.

"Don't touch me!" Tony seethed.

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.

Then after a beat, Tony broke the quiet.

His movements were jerky, driven by pure rage. His face was written with pain and fury as he walked away. A whirring sound then followed, and the glint of metal caught the light. Natasha then realized that he's activating his suit. Inside the compound.

The helmet snapped into place, sealing himself off from them. A blast of compressed air and a repulsor-fueled roar echoed through the hallway as he launched himself forward. They were shielded by Wanda from the sudden blast from Tony's Iron suit. As he took flight, the sheer recklessness of it, flying an armored suit at full speed indoors told Natasha everything she needed to know. Tony wasn't thinking; he was just acting.

Before Natasha could even process the best course of action, Wanda and Pietro were in motion. Pietro was a blur of silver, a streak of motion heading down the same path as Tony. Wanda stepped away from Natasha’s side and followed behind him. She ran with a focused intensity that set her powers humming, keeping herself on par with her brother as they ran after Tony.

Natasha knew instantly what they were doing. They weren't just going to the training ground; they were going to put themselves between Tony and Bucky.

They see him as their friend. She realized, a chilling certainty settling in her gut. Tony saw Bucky as the ghost of his past, a killer. But Wanda and Pietro saw him as someone to be defended. They were going to protect him, no matter the cost.

Natasha turned to Steve and Sam, her expression grim. "We have to go after them," Natasha looked at Sam and Steve, already moving after the three as she spoke. "Let's go. Before Tony does something he can't take back."

As they ran, she could feel the lines of loyalty shifting, redrawing themselves in real-time. The team was breaking, and the fragments were already choosing sides.

And Natasha… she just hopes that she doesn't have to choose.

WANDA

“Fight back, you bastard!”

Wanda and Pietro heard Tony’s shouts as he sends repulsor blast one after another that sends Bucky flying across the training ground. The air crackled as Tony stood, his gauntlet pointed, a terrifying sense of finality in his posture.

"Don't do this, Stark," Pietro said to him as soon as they arrived, his voice grim and determined.

Tony’s helmet retracted, revealing a face set in cold fury. "Oh, I will," he said, the words dripping with a chilling satisfaction. "Happily so."

Bucky didn't even try to fight back, his body limp and ready to accept whatever came next. Wanda’s powers flared to life. She projected a shimmering, crimson shield in front of him, absorbing the energy of Tony’s next blast. The force of it made her teeth rattle a bit, a familiar hum of resistance flowing through her hands and into the ground.

With a flick of her wrist, she disabled Tony’s suit. The glowing arc reactor in his chest flickered and died. He was still for a moment, a stunned look on his face. Then, he lunged forward with a frustrated growl, tackling Bucky to the ground and began to pummel him.

Wanda didn't hesitate. She stepped between them, her hands glowing with her power, and stopped Tony’s fist inches from Bucky’s bloody face.

"C'mon, Stark. You need to stop," she pleaded, her voice shaking with a mix of fury, despair, and confusion. "Just talk things through and listen to him."

Tony yanked his hand away, his eyes blazing. "Stay out of this, both of you," He snarled as he pointed his finger at Wanda and Pietro. "This has nothing to do with you."

Wanda scoffed, a bitter laugh bubbling up in her throat. "But he is part of our business. He is our friend."

"A friend who will condone his actions, I see," Tony said, a sneer twisting his lips. "If you're such a friend, why don't you hit me in his stead huh? Fight his battle? You're a fucking enabler. He killed my parents!"

The words hit Wanda like a physical blow. The pain and anger she had tried so hard to bury surged to the surface. Her voice, when she spoke, was laced with venom.

"And your bombs killed mine!" she screamed, her eyes and hands glowing crimson. "Nearly killed Pietro and I as well! What's your fucking excuse, Stark?! At least he was under mind control and was tortured if he disobeyed. He had no choice! But you! What did you do?! You made yourself more fucking rich, as if you didn't have enough piles of money lying around!"

Tony’s face suddenly went pale, the fight draining from him in an instant. "You...you can't hold that against me...I didn't know," he stammered, his body slumping. "I've changed..."

Wanda laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "God, you're such a hypocrite," she spat. "The next thing you'll tell me is you made up for it from all the charity benefit funds you helped raise." She looked at him with pure contempt, turning her back on him. "Charity, my ass. It's just another excuse for you to throw a lavish party around to flaunt your wealth."

Tony tried to defend himself, but she shook her head. Now that everything’s coming out in the open, she couldn’t stop even if she tried. All the hatred and the things she wanted to say out loud in her past life were boiling over. “Don’t say it wasn’t true because we all know that it is!”

She looked at the other two behind her for a second before looking back at Tony.

"You wanna know what I think? There is a correlation between your generosity and guilt—maybe it eases your conscience. Well, I suppose if you've got the money, you can break as many eggs as you like."

Wanda turned back to Tony as she spoke, the eyes of the others trained on them.

"Hell, I can even clearly see it when Ross presented the Accords to us," Wanda began again, walking towards him and began poking at his chest. The contact was sharp and insistent. "You grew up in a system that protects you. That's why you are quick to agree on it. Because you lose nothing."

She poked him again, each word punctuated by a jab of her finger. "For one second, did you even think about the others in this team, Anthony?"

Wanda's voice dropped to a low, furious whisper. "I don't know about the others, but I have lived my whole life being abused by the system. So forgive me if I have any apprehension in following through quickly."

"You were put in an orphanage, isn't that -" Tony began, but Wanda cut him off, her powers flaring. Her eyes burned a shade of red that promised retribution.

"You don't know shit about what happened to us in that godforsaken place!" she yelled. "Just because your high-tech gear has gathered my information, it doesn't mean you know everything."

She took a step closer, her voice now a low, chilling whisper. "Let's see if you have this on file. At the age of ten, that orphanage exploited us and made us beg on the streets for money, even made us steal whatever. Otherwise, we'd be shot in the head and thrown in a ditch in some random alley."

Tony stammered, "I -"

"Pietro and I learned that the first day that we got there. And we lived in that hell for six goddamn years!"

Wanda looked up at him, her gaze filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. She saw his face contort with guilt, and for a fleeting moment, she felt a grim satisfaction.

"When I turned sixteen, the orphanage director...He..." Wanda's lip trembled, and she bit down hard to keep it from shaking. The memory was a poison she had tried to swallow, but it had never gone down.

"I'm sorry, I - I didn't know. I-"

Wanda ignored him, the words pouring out of her now, a torrent of long-suppressed pain. "Strucker's men came after that and forced us to be volunteers in his program. Would you blame me if I stayed and watched as the orphanage director was gunned down by HYDRA soldiers? You wouldn't fucking understand."

"And HYDRA, let's not even get into that, but would you believe me if I say that it's better than the orphanage I grew up in? Still a fucking prison, though. A much better one compared to the old, but still a fucking cage."

She took a step back, breathing heavily as she tried to get ahold of herself. She then looked at Pietro, who was holding Bucky up, supporting him.

Wanda took a final step back, her chest heaving. "You don't know what it's like to live with nothing, to live in a system that constantly abuses you. You're so disconnected from the reality of other people who are experiencing it. Just because it doesn't happen to you, it doesn't mean that it's not happening elsewhere."

As the words hung in the air, Wanda noticed Natasha, Steve, and Sam at the training ground just a few steps from them, their faces etched with concern and confusion. She wondered if they had heard everything. But she didn’t care anymore.

“Wanda…” Wanda suddenly felt Natasha’s hand on her shoulder as she called out to her, and she realized what she had just said. She won’t take it back. But Tony doesn’t deserve a verbal beating down, especially right after he found out about his parents.

God, this is all so complicated.

She let out a deep sigh and averted her eyes from him. “Tony, I-I’m sorry. But I don’t regret what I said.” She shifted on her feet, the anger in her gone as guilt seeped through her. “I know you’re hurt, and I’m not asking you to forgive him. But try to understand where we - he was coming from.”

Wanda squeezed her eyes shut before looking over towards her brother, who was holding Bucky upright. “Bring him to the med bay. I’ll be there soon.”

For a moment, nothing has been said except for Pietro making his way away from them with Bucky in tow. Steve looked at Tony for a second before helping Pietro carry Bucky. She briefly heard Sam follow after them to help as well.

After that, it was only Wanda, Natasha, and Tony. Surprisingly, it was Tony who broke the silence between them.

“For what it’s worth, I am so sorry.”

NATASHA

It wasn’t much. Four words, quiet and flat, almost lost to the hum of the training ground’s overhead lights.

But Natasha heard them.

And so did Wanda.

Natasha’s gaze flicked between the two, reading every twitch of Wanda’s jaw, every tight breath. The red still glowed faintly in Wanda’s palms, curling in restless spirals before fading into nothing. That was the closest thing to a truce Natasha was going to get right now.

“Alright,” Natasha said softly, as if speaking too loud would shatter the fragile air between them. “That’s… something.”

Tony gave a humorless snort. “Don’t make it more than it is, Romanoff.” His eyes darted toward Wanda, and Natasha caught the faintest tremor in his hands before he slid them into his pockets.

Wanda’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m going to check on Bucky.” Her voice was steady, but Natasha could hear the weight in it, like a held-back tide.

Natasha stepped closer, just enough that her shoulder brushed Wanda’s. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” Wanda said, and for the first time since Natasha met her, it wasn’t sharp or defensive. It was… tired. “You should stay. Make sure he”—a tilt of her head toward Tony—“doesn’t do something stupid.”

It stung more than Natasha wanted to admit, but she nodded anyway. “Alright. But I’m holding you to talking to me later.”

Wanda gave her a quick, unreadable look before turning and walking out. The door hissed shut behind her.

The room felt colder without her.

Tony shifted his weight. “You think she hates me?”

Natasha let out a slow breath, crossing her arms. “She doesn’t hate you. If she did, you’d know.”

He gave a dry laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Natasha studied him for a moment, the anger drained, but the grief still raw in his eyes. She wanted to tell him that grief makes people say things they don’t mean. That Wanda’s fire came from the same place his did, a wound that never healed right.

But Natasha wasn’t in the habit of lying. Unless she has a reason to.

“She meant every word,” Natasha said finally. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

Tony stared at her like she’d just spoken in another language. “Not a bad thing?”

“It means she cares enough to fight for what she believes in. Even if it’s against you.” Natasha glanced at the door Wanda had walked through. “You two… you’re more alike than you think.”

Tony’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but he just closed it again and shook his head.

Somewhere down the hall, Natasha could hear Pietro’s muffled voice and the faint sound of metal against tile, Bucky being moved. She pushed herself away from the wall.

“This isn’t over,” she said, heading for the door.

“Yeah,” Tony muttered. “Story of my life.”

Natasha paused with her hand on the frame. “Do me a favor—don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Define stupid.”

“Anything that makes Wanda want to throw you through a wall.”

That pulled the faintest smirk from him, breaking the heaviness for just a second. “No promises.”

“Make some,” she said, letting the corner of her mouth curve before she stepped out.

The door slid shut, leaving him alone with the hum of the lights and whatever was still rattling around in his head.

The hallway felt too long, too quiet. Her footsteps seemed louder than usual, even though she was walking lightly, almost out of habit. The echoes had that cold compound sound to them. Polished floors and sterile walls. The kind of place where silence is carried.

She hated this kind of silence.

Natasha’s mind replayed the last twenty minutes in quick, messy flashes: Steve’s resigned words to Tony, Tony’s voice breaking, the wild edge in his eyes when he went for Bucky again, the sick sound of the impact. Then Wanda stepped in, Pietro right behind her, both of them forcing Tony back. Not with force alone, but with something heavier. Wanda’s voice had cut through the shouting, low, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

Even as Steve and Sam caught Bucky, Natasha’s attention stayed on Wanda. The way her hair had fallen forward, the flick of her eyes toward Pietro as she told him to get Bucky to the med bay, the way her tone left no room for argument.

Then Wanda had looked at her. It was brief, maybe two seconds at most, but enough to leave Natasha with the sense that something had just passed between them. Trust, maybe. Or a warning. Or something she couldn’t name at all. It felt fragile and dangerous at the same time. Then came the quiet instruction: make sure Tony didn’t do anything drastic.

Not sharp. Not dismissive. Just… tired.

Tired was worse. Tired meant it wasn’t just anger; it was something deeper, something that didn’t burn out in a few hours.

She turned a corner and slowed near the med bay. Through the glass wall, she saw Pietro helping Bucky onto the exam table. Wanda stood at the foot of the table as she helped steady him, her hands suspended like she wanted to help further, but didn’t know if doing anything more would make it worse.

Natasha’s eyes followed the small movements: the shift of Wanda’s weight, the tightness in her shoulders, the flickers in her expression. The thought of Bucky barely surfaced. She didn’t notice.

The med staff moved in, quiet but efficient. Natasha stayed at the corner, out of their line of sight. Her gaze never left Wanda. She didn’t realize she was watching her more than anyone else, and if she had, she wasn’t sure she’d want to know why.

She thought about stepping in, maybe to say something light enough to break the heaviness in the room. But she didn’t. There was something in Wanda’s face, a stiffness in her jaw, a faraway look in her eyes, that made her stop.

Instead, she leaned against the wall just out of view, letting herself watch for a few more seconds. Pietro glanced toward the door like he sensed someone there, then returned to adjusting the blanket over Bucky’s chest.

Natasha sighed quietly through her nose and pushed away from the wall. The lines between everyone felt like they were shifting, loyalties redrawing themselves in real time. And she didn’t like not knowing where Wanda would stand when the dust settled.

She gave the med bay one last glance before turning down the corridor. She told herself she was leaving the whole scene behind, but her mind still caught on the image of Wanda’s eyes… tired, sharp, unreadable. The rest of the world faded. That stayed.

Natasha’s feet carried her back toward the heart of the compound. The murmur of voices reached her before she even stepped into the living room, low, heavy tones, the kind people used when they were running out of ways to say what they meant.

Steve sat slouched forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on a point somewhere between the floor and infinity. Sam was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching him like he wasn’t sure if he should speak or let the silence stand.

They both looked up when Natasha entered. She paused just inside the doorway, letting the quiet settle again. Sam’s eyes flicked to her, then back to Steve. He straightened a little, uncrossing his arms only to cross them again. His jaw shifted as if he were about to speak, then closed again.

“How’s everyone else holding up?” he asked finally, tone light enough to sound casual, but the edge underneath was hard to miss.

Steve’s shoulders lifted in the barest shrug, but the movement was tight, almost defensive. His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers curling together like he didn’t trust them to stay still. He didn’t answer.

Natasha considered the question. “Depends on your definition of holding up.”

Sam huffed quietly, not quite a laugh, and looked down at the floor. He tapped his thumb against his bicep, a restless rhythm. His eyes cut toward Steve again, catching the flicker of something — guilt, maybe, or resignation — before Steve looked away.

“Right,” Sam murmured, then glanced toward the hallway she’d come from.

Only then did he ask, “Bucky?”

“Med bay,” Natasha said. “Pietro’s with him. Wanda too.”

Sam’s mouth pressed into a line. For a second, it looked like he was about to say something else, and Natasha could almost hear his unasked question. She caught the shift in his gaze, the way it lingered on Steve’s hunched posture a moment too long. Her arms tightened slightly against her chest, not because she was cold, but because she could feel the weight of what Sam wasn’t saying.

He seemed to think better of it. Whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, he let it go, replacing it with a small, deliberate nod.

“I’ll go check on them.” His gaze lingered on Steve a moment longer, an unspoken don’t make this worse in his eyes, before he finally headed for the door.

When it shut behind him, the room felt even bigger, the quiet stretching out between her and Steve.

Natasha crossed the room but didn’t sit. She stayed standing, arms loosely folded, giving him space to speak first. She knew better than to try to fill that kind of silence.

After a long moment, Steve sighed and leaned back into the couch. “I knew it would come out eventually,” he said, voice low. “I just… didn’t think it’d be like this.”

Natasha tilted her head, not breaking eye contact.

“I thought if I kept it to myself, I was protecting them,” Steve continued. “Protecting him.” His gaze flickered toward the window, jaw tightening. “But I was wrong. I just made it worse.”

Natasha didn’t move, didn’t interrupt.

He let out another breath, slower this time. “Tony’s never going to see Bucky the way I do. I get that. I just hoped… maybe time would make a difference.”

“Time doesn’t heal like people think it does,” Natasha said quietly.

Steve’s eyes met hers then, searching. “And Wanda… she’s not wrong about what she said. Any of it.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. “She was… sharp.”

“She was honest,” Steve corrected gently. “And I think Tony needed to hear it from someone who’s lived it.” He leaned forward again, elbows braced on his knees. “But I’m worried about her. About what it costs to keep carrying that kind of weight.”

Natasha’s fingers flexed against her arms. “She’s tougher than you think.”

“I know she is,” Steve said. “That’s what worries me.”

Natasha didn’t answer right away. She was still hearing Wanda’s voice in her head, the way it cracked, the way it sharpened — and how the steadiness under it had made something in her chest pull tight in a way she hadn’t examined. And Steve was right; there was a cost.

When she finally spoke, her tone was quieter, but steady. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

Steve gave a faint nod, like that was all he needed to hear. But Natasha could see the unspoken relief in his eyes. She was about to turn when his voice stopped her.

“What do you think of her?”

Natasha blinked, caught off guard. “Wanda?”

He nodded, eyes steady on hers in a way that felt less like casual curiosity and more like he was taking a measurement.

She hesitated. It wasn’t the kind of question she expected from him — not because he didn’t care, but because she hadn’t realized he’d been watching her closely enough to ask. The quiet between them felt suddenly deliberate, stretched just long enough for her to feel the weight of it.

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line before she answered. “Wanda thrives on emotion,” she said at last. “I don’t think she’d ever do anything wrong unless it was for someone she cares about.”

She didn’t add the thought that rose immediately in her mind — that she admired that about Wanda. Emotion was messy. It complicated the clean lines of a mission, turned objectives into risks, and made people vulnerable. Natasha had spent most of her life training herself to treat it like a liability. Yet with Wanda, that same emotion felt like something else entirely. Something she wasn’t ready to name.

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze lingered, the way a good tactician watches a battlefield even after the first shots are fired.

“Pietro’s the easy answer,” Natasha said after a beat. “But it’s not the only one.”

That brought his gaze back to her in full. She didn’t elaborate right away. He knew her well enough not to push, but the weight of his attention was like a hand on the back of her neck.

Natasha took a breath, slow and measured. “She’s already lost more than most people survive. You put her in a corner, take one more thing away, and…” She let the sentence hang. Steve could fill in the rest himself.

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t look away. “And you think someone’s about to take something from her?”

“I think someone already has,” Natasha replied.

The words felt heavier than she expected. Maybe because she could still hear Wanda’s voice in her head, sharp as broken glass, but steady — the kind of steady that came from standing on a cliff edge and refusing to step back. Natasha had told herself it was admiration, but lately, that explanation was starting to feel too small. She didn’t name what it might be instead.

Steve’s eyes searched hers, like he was cataloguing more than just the words. There was no judgment in them, but there was understanding. And maybe that was worse.

They stayed like that — not quite staring each other down, but close — until Steve exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his face.

He looked suddenly older, like the conversation had put years on him in the space of a few minutes.

Natasha glanced toward the hallway, instinctively measuring distance, exits, and the likely positions of everyone else in the compound. She didn’t move toward the door, but her posture shifted like she might.

“She’s not alone,” Natasha said finally. “Whatever happens next… she won’t be alone.”

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Heavy, deliberate, with the quick pace of someone who had decided exactly what they were going to say before they arrived. Natasha knew who it was before he even stepped into the room.

Tony walked in, his posture rigid but without the volatile fire from earlier. His gaze locked on Steve and stayed there, passing over Natasha before settling back on him.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low but with an unmistakable edge. The kind of tone that could cut more cleanly than shouting.

Steve did not move. The air between them still carried the residue of their earlier fight, when the truth about Tony’s parents had finally been dragged into the light and Steve’s silence had spoken louder than any denial. But there was something new in the way Tony held himself. His words were restrained, measured, as if he were holding them in place with both hands. Natasha could guess why. She had heard Wanda’s voice earlier, the calm and cold precision of it, the way each truth had landed without mercy. She knew Tony had heard it too.

When Steve finally straightened, it was slow, his eyes never leaving Tony’s. “Now’s not—”

“It is,” Tony cut in. His voice stayed quiet, but there was no softness in it. “Because the longer we don’t, the more likely I am to forget I’m trying to be better.”

The room seemed to tighten around them. Natasha kept her arms folded, her weight balanced just enough to move if she needed to. She could feel the tension in the air, the way it pressed in, waiting for one of them to push too hard. Neither man looked at her, but she did not need their attention to understand what was coming.

Tony took a single step forward, closing the space between them just enough to make his point. Steve held his ground.

Natasha’s eyes moved between them once more, then she exhaled and shifted toward the door. “Try not to make me come back in here because you’re both bleeding,” she said, her tone even but carrying the kind of warning that came from experience.

Neither man responded, but both flicked their eyes toward her as she left. She could still feel the weight of the tension following her into the hall.

WANDA

The med bay was too bright. The lights cut harsh lines across Bucky’s face, making the shadows beneath his eyes seem deeper. He sat hunched forward on the bed, forearms resting on his knees, gaze locked to the floor like it might offer him answers.

Wanda stayed close to Pietro, not wanting to crowd Bucky but not willing to leave him alone either.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said quietly, though it felt strange to put the words out into the open. She wasn’t sure if they would reach him. “The worst is over now.”

No sign he’d heard her.

Pietro stepped to Bucky’s right and knocked his knuckles against the vibranium arm. The sharp metallic sound cut through the stillness.

“Hey,” Pietro said with a small grin, “you hear us in there, Terminator? Or do I have to knock louder?”

Something flickered across Bucky’s face — not a smile, not exactly — but it was movement.

“That’s better,” Pietro said, straightening. “Almost human.”

Bucky let out a slow breath, still not looking up.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Pietro’s voice was quieter now. “You could’ve at least made it harder for him.”

Bucky was silent long enough that Wanda thought he wasn’t going to answer. When he finally did, his voice was low and rough, as if each word carried its own weight.

“Because I don’t get to do that,” he said. “I don’t deserve it.”

The words hung in the air. Pietro shifted his weight but didn’t speak. Wanda felt the heaviness of the silence press against her ribs.

“You don’t have to deserve it,” she said finally, her tone steady but soft. “You’re allowed to feel something. Guilt. Anger. Relief. Anything.”

Bucky’s eyes lifted a fraction, enough to meet hers for a heartbeat before dropping again.

“At least you’re trying to do better,” she continued. “That’s more than most people ever get to.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t argue. That, Wanda thought, was its own kind of progress.

For a long moment, the three of them stayed there. No one moved. The air felt fragile, like a wrong word could shatter it.

Then the doors slid open.

Sam stepped inside, his presence breaking the tension without forcing it. “Well,” he said, glancing around, “everyone’s still breathing. That’s something.”

Pietro leaned back in the chair. “You here to babysit or to claim the comfy chair?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You mean my chair? The one I was using before you stole it?”

Bucky muttered something low enough that only Sam caught it, and Sam laughed under his breath. The sharp edges of the moment dulled, replaced by easy jabs and familiar rhythms.

Wanda let them have it. They needed that.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” she said, her voice quiet enough that Pietro turned to look at her. She shook her head, silently telling him she was fine, before slipping out into the hall.

The hallway outside the med bay felt too wide and too quiet. Her footsteps echoed softly off the walls, the sound hollow in a way that made her think of empty buildings.

The conversation with Bucky clung to her like the smell of antiseptic from the room she’d just left. His voice had been so flat, almost like the words themselves had scraped on the way out.

I don’t deserve it.

The words had struck something deep in her chest, because she knew them. Not just their meaning — their weight. She had worn them like shackles once. She still does.

But she and Bucky were not the same.

With him, the sins were forced into his hands. His mind had been broken, his will stripped away, every action taken under the weight of someone else’s control. He had been a weapon, wielded by another.

She, on the other hand, had been her own master.

Westview had been hers entirely — her grief, her design, her choice. She had caged an entire town in her fantasy and convinced herself it was mercy. Neighbors smiled because she made them smile. Families lived the way she wanted them to live. And she had kept it going even when she knew it was wrong, because letting go meant facing the emptiness.

When the illusion finally shattered, she walked away with the sound of their sobbing burned into her memory.

It should have ended there.

Instead, she had found the Darkhold.

She could admit now that it had corrupted her — its pages whispering promises until they didn’t feel like whispers anymore. It had made her hunger sharper, her desperation more vicious. It had shown her the faces of children she never had and made her believe she deserved them, no matter the cost.

But admitting she was corrupted didn’t make it better.

Because the Darkhold hadn’t put the longing there. It hadn’t planted the seed of selfishness, or the willingness to tear through anyone who stood in her way. That had already been hers.

At Kamar-Taj, she had proven it. She could still see the courtyard, hear the screams, smell the sharp tang of smoke and blood. The sorcerers had sworn to defend reality — and she had slaughtered them because they refused to give her what she wanted.

The Darkhold had pushed her, yes, but she had walked every step willingly.

That was the difference between her and Bucky. He had been forced. She had chosen.

She understood his guilt because she carried her own, heavy and unrelenting. Even in this changed timeline, even with this second chance, it clung to her.

Maybe that was why she hadn’t tried to tell him he was wrong. Sometimes you couldn’t be convinced. Sometimes all you could do was try anyway, knowing the guilt would stay no matter what.

She turned a corner, letting her hand trail lightly along the wall. The air was cooler here, carrying the faint scent of rain through the ventilation system. Somewhere outside, the clouds must have been gathering.

Eventually, she found herself in one of the quieter wings, away from the sound of voices and movement. A pair of tall glass doors led to a narrow balcony that overlooked the back gardens.

She stepped outside.

The air was crisp, carrying the damp, earthy scent that came before a storm. The gardens below were still, framed by the darker greens of the trees beyond. Leaning against the railing, she let her eyes drift up to the sky. The clouds were thickening, their edges glowing faintly with the fading sunlight.

She let her breathing slow, matching the rhythm of the wind. For a moment, she let herself imagine that the world below was frozen, that she was suspended somewhere between what had happened and what might come next.

It was a fragile kind of peace.

“Wanda.”

She hadn’t expected to hear anyone behind her — the quiet hum of the compound at night made it easy to believe she was alone. So when the voice came, soft but clear, she almost flinched.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Wanda turned quickly. “Vision? You’re here?” The surprise was plain in her voice. She hadn’t seen him in the compound in what felt like forever.

He gave a small nod. “Pepper asked me to retrieve Tony. She believes he’ll listen to me more than most. Apparently, I’m one of the few who can keep pace with him.”

Her lips curved faintly. “I believe that.”

That explanation seemed enough for her, and she turned back toward the balcony rail, letting the breeze brush against her skin. Below, the garden was still except for the slow sway of tree branches. She watched them for a while, letting her breathing steady.

Vision stepped up beside her, his eyes following the same line of sight. “You’ve been quiet,” he said, his tone light but pointed.

She didn’t look at him. “Just needed air.”

“You’ve been avoiding people,” he observed without hesitation.

Her brow furrowed. “You’ve been here all of five minutes. How would you know that?”

“Because I can see it.” He replied simply, his voice was calm, deliberate.

Wanda huffed softly, a mix of amusement and exasperation, before his next words landed —

“You’ve been… attentive. Especially where Natasha is concerned.”

Her eyes flicked toward him, narrowing slightly. “That’s not—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “We’re friends.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Friends whose safety you put before your own. Friends you position yourself near in every room. Friends you look for before anyone else.”

“You’re reading into things. I do it to everyone. Pietro — and even you.”

“Perhaps.” He paused and craned his neck as if assessing her. “Which reminds me, I’ve also noticed the way you watch Bucky.”

Her head turned sharply toward him, eyes narrowing. “That’s not the same.”

“It is similar.”

“It’s not,” she said firmly. “Bucky is… different. He’s been through too much. He’s—” She broke off, feeling her throat tighten. “I just want him to be okay.”

“You didn’t deny it with Natasha,” Vision noted quietly.

Her jaw tensed. “That’s not fair.”

“Fairness isn’t what I’m measuring,” he said gently. “Only truth.”

Her gaze returned to the horizon, letting the clouds fill the silence. With him, it had always been easy. Not simple, but easy. Vision didn’t demand, didn’t judge — just waited, patient as ever, until she was ready to speak.

“You think too much, Vision.”

“And you think you can avoid what you feel by refusing to name it.”

Wanda traced a slow line along the railing with her fingertips, as if the texture might give her the right words. “It’s not easy, Vision. Naming things… saying them out loud… it makes them real. And when something’s real, you can’t take it back.”

“Do you wish to take it back?” he asked, his voice calm but direct.

Her eyes drifted over the garden, unfocused. “Sometimes. Sometimes I wish I could erase whole parts of myself. Pretend I never felt them. But that’s not how it works, is it?”

“No,” he said. “We carry what we’ve done. And what we’ve felt. But we also choose what we do next.”

A soft, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It isn’t simple,” he replied, “but it is clear. You care for Natasha.”

Her breath caught — a small, reflexive reaction — and she shook her head quickly. “Vision—”

“You don’t deny it,” he said evenly, no judgment in his tone. “That tells me something.”

She let out a long breath, glancing down at her hands on the railing. “And what does it tell you?”

“That you’ve already admitted it to yourself. Perhaps not fully. Perhaps not in words. But you’ve thought about it.”

Her jaw tightened. “You always know how to make things uncomfortable.”

“And yet,” he said with the faintest trace of warmth, “you’ve never walked away from a conversation with me.”

Wanda looked up at him then, meeting his gaze. “Because… it’s easy, talking to you. It always has been.”

The corner of his mouth tilted — not quite a smile, but close. “Even when you dislike the topic?”

“Especially then,” she admitted. “You don’t judge. You just… hold up a mirror.”

“Mirrors can be difficult to look into,” Vision said.

“Yeah,” she murmured, eyes drifting back to the clouds. “Sometimes I think you see more than you should.”

“I only see what you allow me to see,” he replied. “And what you can’t help but show.”

That quiet truth lingered between them, and for a moment she was back in the last timeline — those late-night talks in the kitchen or on rooftops, when the world was asleep and Vision was the only one who could unravel her without making her feel like she was unraveling.

Wanda’s hands tightened slightly on the railing, but she didn’t speak.

“I think you should be honest with yourself, Wanda,” Vision tried again. His voice was as calm as ever, but the words landed with weight.

She glanced at him, trying to read his expression, still that measured, almost serene composure. He had always been like that, even in her last life. Back then, he was the one constant in a world that kept breaking apart under her hands. He’d been patient with her grief, with her anger, with the silences she wrapped around herself. He’d been more than patient, really. He’d cared for her in ways she hadn’t known she needed, until it was too late.

And now… now he was here, in this version of events, gently, almost stubbornly, nudging her toward someone else.

The contradiction left her off balance. Why? Why push her toward Natasha, of all people? If he could remember what they’d had before, if he could remember the years they’d fought beside each other, the quiet moments between battles, would he still be saying these things?

But of course, he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.

And maybe that was for the best. Because the truth, the one she didn’t dare speak, was that her feelings for him had already changed. They’d shifted the moment Pietro survived this time around. Without the yawning grief that had once hollowed her out, there was no desperate need for someone to hold her together. No pull toward Vision in the way there had been before. She still cared for him, deeply, but it was different now, gentler, almost sibling-like.

The knowledge sat in her chest like a stone. It felt like a betrayal somehow, as though she’d taken something from him without his consent. That guilt tangled with another truth she couldn’t bring herself to admit out loud: part of her was relieved. Relieved that what they’d been before wasn’t what they were now.

She exhaled slowly, tension slipping from her shoulders. “You don’t make things easy.”

“Nor should I,” Vision replied. “The truth rarely comes dressed for comfort.”

Her lips quirked, but there was no humor in it. “And what if the truth isn’t… good?”

“Then you decide what to do with it. Good or not, it’s still yours.”

She looked away, letting his words sink in. It was frustrating, the way he always found the shortest path to the center of her thoughts, even when she wanted to wander anywhere but there. And yet, she didn’t blame him. He was only doing what he always had, guiding her toward clarity, even if it hurt.

She stayed quiet, her gaze drifting back to the garden below. The late afternoon light cast long shadows over the grass, softening everything it touched. It was the kind of view that invited stillness, yet her mind refused to settle.

Somewhere down there, life kept moving — people breathing, talking, existing without the weight of two timelines pressing on their ribs. She envied them in that moment. Not for their ignorance, but for their simplicity.

Vision didn’t fill the silence, and she found herself grateful for that. He never had been afraid of quiet; he understood it could be a kind of answer on its own.

She thought of all the times, in another life, they had stood side by side like this. Moments stolen between missions, in safe houses or at the kitchen counter in the Compound. Back then, she’d clung to those moments like a lifeline. Now, they felt like memories belonging to someone else.

A part of her wished she could feel the same way again, if only so she wouldn’t have to admit the change. But wishing didn’t alter the truth.

Finally, she turned her gaze from the garden to him.

“Thank you,” Wanda said softly. It wasn’t just for his words — it was for being here, for being exactly who he’d always been, even when she wasn’t the same.

NATASHA

From the hallway, Natasha’s pace slowed without her meaning to. The balcony doors were open, letting in a faint breeze, and through them she saw Wanda standing beside Vision.

She couldn’t hear a word from this distance — the murmur of their voices was lost under the low hum of the compound — but she didn’t need to. Body language had always spoken louder to her anyway.

Wanda leaned against the railing, one hand loosely resting on the metal, the other hanging by her side. Her posture was unhurried, shoulders set at ease in a way Natasha rarely saw outside of battle’s aftermath or moments with her brother. Her head tilted slightly as Vision spoke, and though Natasha couldn’t see her face fully from this angle, she caught the gentle curve of her lips when she replied.

It wasn’t the sharp smile Wanda sometimes wore when teasing Pietro, nor the tight, guarded line she showed strangers. This was softer. Something unspoken threaded through it. And it struck Natasha — that smile, warm and unguarded, was the same one Wanda had turned on her before, in rare, fleeting moments.

Natasha’s fingers curled loosely at her sides, though she told herself it was nothing. Just observation, the same skill she’d honed her whole life. She watched the slow shift of Wanda’s weight, the way her stance stayed open, uncoiled. She looked… comfortable.

And that, more than anything, made Natasha pause. Wanda didn’t relax easily — not with everything she carried. Yet here she was, leaning into a quiet moment like it belonged to her.

Natasha stayed where she was, hidden by the angle of the doorway, and kept watching. The why could wait. For now, she just… watched.

Natasha stayed just inside the shadow of the doorway, arms loosely crossed. It would have been easy, so easy, to step forward, let the faint sound of her boots on the floor give her away, and watch Vision take the hint to leave. The thought settled in her chest with a stubborn weight she refused to examine too closely.

Instead, she lingered, gaze flicking between Wanda’s relaxed stance and the stillness of Vision beside her. The air between them seemed calm. Not charged, not strained. Just calm.

She told herself that was a good thing. That Wanda deserved moments like this, people who steadied her. But that reasoning did nothing to quiet the restless pull under her ribs.

Her mind started sorting through options. She could walk out there, interrupt under the guise of something casual, say she needed to borrow Wanda for a second or that Tony was looking for her. Easy cover. Or she could go check back on Steve and Tony, since she had left them to talk. Keep herself busy.

And then there was the med bay. Pietro and Sam would probably still be hovering around Bucky, maybe annoying him enough to draw something close to a laugh. That, at least, might be a decent distraction.

Her eyes went back to Wanda. She was smiling again, that same soft, unguarded smile. Natasha’s throat tightened before she could stop it.

She drew in a slow breath and shifted her weight back from the doorway. Natasha lingered for another heartbeat, watching that soft curve of Wanda’s smile. It was the same way she smiled at her, and the thought sank deep enough to make her chest feel unsteady.

That’s enough.

Her feet were already moving before she even realized it.

“There you are,” she called, stepping onto the balcony.

Both turned toward her. Wanda’s smile didn’t fade; if anything, it shifted, warmer now, and pointed squarely at her.

Vision looked at Natasha, then back at Wanda with a faint upward tilt of his head — subtle, but unmistakably deliberate. It felt like a private joke, something shared in silence that Natasha wasn’t a part of. She noticed, of course, but instead of naming the sharp twist in her chest for what it was, she told herself it was just curiosity. That she was simply wondering what she had missed.

Then Vision’s gaze flicked back to her, and this time he gave her the same knowing look he’d given Wanda — as if whatever silent message he had was meant for both of them. Irritation prickled at the edge of her composure, but she kept her face neutral, giving him only a curt nod.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” Natasha said, keeping her voice level as she nodded at Vision again. “Tony and Steve are still talking it out, so I figured I’d check in.”

“Just getting some air,” Wanda replied, her tone light as she smiled widely at her.

Vision inclined his head once more. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it. Pepper asked me to locate Tony, and I imagine I’ll have better luck now.” His eyes lingered a moment longer on Wanda — then flicked back to Natasha with that same, unshakably knowing expression — before he finally stepped away, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Natasha joined Wanda at the railing, the late light spilling over the garden below. She didn’t ask what they’d been talking about. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

She told herself she was just curious about what had been said before she arrived. That was all. She’d caught the thank you, the way Wanda smiled, the way Vision seemed to know exactly what it meant — but that was simple observation, nothing more.

Except… she wasn’t sure it was.

There was a part of her — small but stubborn — that wanted to call it jealousy. Another part argued it was just restlessness, that she wasn’t used to standing still long enough to notice moments like this. And maybe there was some truth to that. She’d been bouncing between rooms all day, making sure Steve and Tony didn’t kill each other, checking in on Bucky and Pietro, keeping herself too busy to think.

Now, with no immediate task at hand, her focus had narrowed in on the one person she’d been avoiding looking at too closely.

She breathed out slowly, as if that would quiet the questions she didn’t want to ask herself.

Natasha was trying to decide whether to leave or stay when she felt the faintest brush of movement beside her. Wanda shifted, slow and deliberate, until her head came to rest lightly against Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha froze, the warmth of the contact both unexpected and… disarming.

“Is this okay?” Wanda’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as though she wasn’t sure she should be asking.

Natasha didn’t answer — not with words, anyway. Instead, she let her head tilt just enough for her head to rest against Wanda’s. It wasn’t permission spoken aloud, but it was an answer all the same.

They stood there like that, still and silent, the only sound the muted hum of the compound below.

Natasha wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, leaning into each other with the garden spread out below them. Time felt oddly suspended, the air heavy with something unspoken. She kept her gaze forward, but her senses were tuned entirely to the woman at her side — the steady, measured breaths, the faint scent of soap and something floral clinging to her hair.

It was dangerous, the way it made her feel grounded and off balance at the same time.

Her mind kept circling back to the question she refused to ask herself. Was she jealous earlier because Vision had been here? Was it curiosity? Or was it something else entirely, something she had no business feeling?

Wanda shifted slightly, not pulling away, just adjusting her weight. Natasha’s shoulder automatically shifted to accommodate her, as if her body had decided for her that she wasn’t moving.

Some part of her wanted to break the silence — to make some dry comment, to shake off whatever this was — but the larger part stayed quiet.

The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. Not exactly. It was… dangerous in a different way. The kind that made her think too much.

Eventually, Natasha’s eyes flicked toward the balcony doors. She knew she should probably check on Tony and Steve. Or maybe head to the med bay to break up whatever nonsense Sam, Bucky, and Pietro had gotten themselves into by now. But her feet didn’t move.

Neither did Wanda’s head.

WANDA

Wanda felt Natasha shift slightly beside her, the weight of her head still resting where it had been. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Natasha’s voice came, quieter than before, stripped of the usual steel.

“They made us do things in the Red Room,” she began, almost as if speaking to herself. “Things you don’t come back from. I thought I could keep it all buried under training, under missions, under the… illusion that I was in control now. I tried to do just as much good from the bad things I’ve done, thinking that I could somehow redeem myself that way. But it’s never really gone.”

Wanda stayed silent, sensing this wasn’t something Natasha shared often — maybe ever.

“I killed a child once,” Natasha continued, the words flat but heavy. “Not because I wanted to. Not because I had to. But because it would end it — the mission, the man I was after, the cycle I’d been trapped in. One life for the end of so many others.”

Her breath hitched, almost too softly to hear. “But that doesn’t make it better. Doesn’t make me better. The red in my ledger…” she gave a humorless, almost bitter sound, “…it’s not ink. It’s blood. And some days, I feel like I’m still drowning in it.”

Wanda’s fingers tightened slightly against the railing. She’d seen Natasha angry, calculating, protective — but never like this. Never so bare.

And maybe it was because she understood too well. That crushing, suffocating guilt that refused to fade no matter how much good you tried to stack on top of it.

She turned her head just enough to catch Natasha’s profile in the fading light. The strength was still there, etched into her features… but now Wanda could see the cracks in it.

Wanda’s throat felt tight, but she forced herself to speak, her voice softer than the breeze that stirred the garden below. “Nat… you’re not that person anymore.”

Natasha didn’t look at her, but Wanda noticed the faint twitch in her jaw, the way her hands curled slightly on the railing as if bracing against the words.

“You’ve saved people. You’ve saved me,” Wanda went on. “If the past refuses to let go, then maybe… maybe you just have to live in a way that proves it wrong.”

For a moment, Natasha didn’t answer. Wanda thought maybe she’d pushed too far. Then, Natasha’s head tilted — just slightly — until their temples brushed.

It wasn’t a full lean, not the way Wanda had rested on her earlier, but it was something.

Wanda kept her gaze on the clouds, even as her chest felt unsteady. She couldn’t tell Natasha everything. Not yet. Not about the timeline she’d left behind, the choices she’d made there, the people she’d lost. But she could give her this.

A quiet moment. A place to breathe.

Then Pietro interrupted the calm between them.

“Tony just left—” Pietro’s voice carried lightly from the doorway, but it trailed off mid-sentence when his eyes landed on the two of them.

He froze for half a second, taking in the sight — Wanda leaning slightly against Natasha, Natasha’s head tilted in quiet ease. His brows lifted almost imperceptibly before a slow, knowing smirk pulled at his mouth.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Wanda straightened immediately, the warmth from Natasha’s shoulder still lingering against her own. Heat prickled at the back of her neck, and she knew it had reached her cheeks. “No,” she said quickly, maybe too quickly.

Natasha didn’t move right away. Instead, she shifted just enough for Wanda to catch the sidelong glance she sent Pietro — cool, unreadable, the kind of look that had dismantled interrogations without a single word.

“Depends,” Natasha replied evenly, her tone calm but edged with a quiet challenge, “were you planning to interrupt something?”

Pietro raised both brows now, feigning innocence with a flourish. “Just passing along the news. But now… I’m curious.”

“You’re always curious,” Wanda muttered, turning back toward the railing as if the garden view could shield her from his grin.

“And you’re always avoiding questions,” Pietro shot back smoothly, the smirk never leaving.

From beside her, Natasha let out a quiet, almost imperceptible huff of amusement. It was small enough that anyone else might have missed it, but Wanda heard it — though she couldn’t tell whether it was aimed at Pietro’s persistence or at her own flustered state.

Then Natasha straightened, brushing her hands down the sides of her pants in a deliberate motion, a subtle punctuation mark to end whatever Pietro thought he’d walked in on.

“I’ll leave you two to… catch up,” she said, tone smooth, though her eyes flickered with something Wanda couldn’t quite read. Without waiting for a reply, Natasha stepped past Pietro, her shoulder grazing his in passing.

Pietro’s gaze followed her for a moment before sliding back to Wanda. That same grin lingered, sharpened now with the satisfaction of having caught something worth teasing her about later.

“What was that about?” he asked, tilting his head toward the direction Natasha had gone.

“Nothing,” Wanda replied, a little too quickly again, the word feeling thin even to her own ears. She kept her gaze fixed on the garden below, willing her face into neutrality.

Pietro hummed under his breath, a sound that told her he didn’t believe her for a second. But, to her relief, he didn’t push further — at least, not yet.

NATASHA

Three weeks later, the first crack in the compound’s uneasy calm came quietly.

A package, small and nondescript, sat on the common room table with Natasha’s name written in neat black ink. No return address. No markings to hint at who had sent it.

Natasha froze the moment she saw it. Her hand hovered over the brown paper for a second longer than necessary before she tore it open with controlled precision.

Inside was a single photograph — two girls standing close together. One had a shock of blue hair and a guarded, almost defiant gaze. The other was younger, blonde, clutching a worn stuffed rabbit like it was the last safe thing in the world.

Beneath the photo was a note, short and deliberate:

Come find me.

⧗

But that wasn’t all. Nestled beneath the picture was a small padded case containing a handful of slim glass test tubes, each filled with an opaque, dark-red liquid that seemed to shift unnaturally when moved, catching the light in ways that made it seem alive.

Natasha’s face had gone pale. Her fingers tightened on the edges of the picture, knuckles whitening. She didn’t touch the tubes, only stared at them as if the sight alone dredged up something buried deep.

“Nat?” Wanda’s voice broke the silence, soft but concerned. She had been walking past, but the stillness around Natasha made her pause. “What is it?”

Natasha didn’t answer right away. Her lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but before she could—

The door swung open, and Ross walked in.

He didn’t bother with greetings. His sharp eyes swept the room, instantly landing on those who had refused to sign the Accords. His presence was a storm cloud, heavy and inevitable. This time, there was no polite edge to mask his intent.

Natasha’s fingers moved instinctively, sliding the photograph and the note back into the envelope with a precision born from years of hiding things she didn’t want others to see. The padded case of test tubes she closed just as quickly, tucking it under one arm in a way that looked casual but was anything but.

Wanda’s eyes tracked every motion. She stepped toward Natasha slowly, as if proximity alone might get her an answer.

Ross’s voice cut through the room, clipped and cold. “We need to talk. All of you who think you’re above the law are about to find out otherwise.”

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and the tension in the air thickened. Steve entered first, his expression already hardened at the sight of Ross. Sam followed close behind, hands loose at his sides but his posture tense. Bucky lingered a step back, his jaw tight, eyes flicking between Ross and Natasha. Pietro strolled in last, though his usual easy swagger faltered as he took in the mood.

“Ross,” Steve said flatly, like the name itself was a warning.

Ross’s gaze didn’t leave Steve, but his stance made it clear he was taking stock of the entire room, deciding where to strike first.

Wanda barely registered the standoff. Her attention stayed fixed on Natasha — on the pale set of her face, the way her grip on that envelope never loosened. She closed the space between them by another step, her voice low.

“What’s going on?” she asked, softer this time, almost afraid the wrong tone might make Natasha retreat further.

Natasha didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked toward Wanda for the briefest heartbeat, something unreadable there before her gaze returned to Ross.

Ross took one measured step forward, hands clasped loosely behind his back like a man who already believed the room was his.

“Three weeks,” he began, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Three weeks since I gave you all the chance to fall in line. Some of you did.” His gaze slid deliberately past Natasha, past Sam, lingering on Steve. “Most of you didn’t.”

Steve squared his shoulders. “We’re not here to be your soldiers, Ross.”

“You’re not soldiers,” Ross countered. “You’re weapons. And weapons need control.”

Pietro shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, eyes darting from Steve to Ross. Bucky’s metal fingers flexed at his side. Sam let out a quiet breath through his nose, steady but ready.

Wanda hardly heard any of it. Her attention stayed anchored on Natasha, who stood utterly still beside her, a predator in wait. But there was a tightness in her posture that didn’t belong there — something the Black Widow usually kept buried deep.

Wanda’s fingers twitched, tempted to reach out, to bridge that space between them and force Natasha to look at her. “Nat,” she murmured, barely more than a whisper.

Natasha’s jaw moved slightly, like she might answer, but Ross’s voice surged again, drowning out anything softer.

“From this moment on,” Ross said, his tone brooking no argument, “your choices are simple. Comply… or face the consequences. I’m not interested in any more… unsanctioned operations.”

The silence that followed was heavy enough to make Wanda’s pulse ring in her ears. She caught Natasha’s profile — pale, unreadable, but with the faintest shadow in her eyes.

Wanda stepped just a fraction closer, letting the distance between them shrink to almost nothing. If Natasha felt it, she didn’t react.

The package sat heavy in Natasha’s grip, the weight of the picture, the note, and the handful of strange test tubes pressing against her palm like they were burning through the cardboard. She hadn’t even processed what it all meant when Ross walked in, his presence cutting through the compound like a blade.

“I promised to protect the people, not your aspiration,” Pietro said, stepping forward without hesitation. His voice cracked against the air, sharp enough to draw everyone’s attention.

Ross’s mouth twitched in irritation, but Steve moved in before he could speak. “Last time I checked, you don’t get to decide who’s worth protecting.” His voice was steady, but there was quiet steel in it—he wasn’t backing down.

Ross’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t pretend this is about protecting anyone but yourselves. Every time you act without oversight, people die.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Sam cut in, low but laced with challenge. “How many times have you sat behind a desk and called it leadership while someone else cleaned up the mess? You want control, not safety.”

Ross turned his glare on Sam. “Control is safety. Without it, you’re just chaos in a fancy suit.”

Pietro stepped forward again, his usual humor gone. “You want to talk about control? Let’s talk about Bruce Banner. You tried to control him—both him and the other guy. You wanted to leash something that powerful, point it wherever you pleased. But you couldn’t. You failed. And now you’re standing here trying to do the same thing to us.”

Ross’s jaw tightened. “Banner was unstable. The Hulk was a danger to every living thing around him. I did what was necessary to contain him—just like I’ll do here.”

Steve’s voice cut in, calm but edged with warning. “The difference is, Bruce wasn’t a weapon. None of us are. And the second you start treating people like tools, you’ve already lost the right to lead them.”

Pietro didn’t let up. “No, you’ve never been interested in leading. You’re interested in owning. In putting a collar on anyone stronger than you and making sure they jump when you say so.”

Ross took a slow step forward, lowering his voice like a blade pressed to skin. “If you can’t operate within the system, you won’t operate at all. And if you won’t operate, then those with blood on their hands will face what’s coming to them.” His gaze locked on Bucky, sharp and deliberate. “Some ghosts don’t stay buried, Barnes. People remember.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but before he could speak, Pietro’s voice snapped through the air like a whip. “Careful, Ross. You think throwing his past in his face makes you righteous? You don’t know a damn thing about what he’s done to make it right.”

Ross shifted his attention toward Natasha, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “And some crimes? They’re not a matter of memory. They’re facts. Your past is written in red, Romanoff. No amount of good behavior erases it. Crimes don’t disappear just because you’ve been useful.”

That was the breaking point.

Wanda stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. “Say another word about her.” Her fingers curled at her sides, and a flicker of crimson crackled in the air, coiling through her palms like living fire. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as the weight of her power pressed outward.

Ross’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of caution now.

Natasha moved before anyone else could react. Her hand closed over Wanda’s wrist, warm and steady despite the dangerous hum of magic beneath her skin. She stepped in close, so close Wanda could feel her breath against her ear.

“Not here. Not for him,” Natasha murmured, her voice low and threaded with something softer than command. “Don’t let him affect you.”

Wanda’s pulse hammered, but Natasha’s thumb brushed against the inside of her wrist — a subtle, anchoring pressure that cut through the red haze in her head.

Her breath slowed. The magic dimmed, receding reluctantly until her hands were bare again.

Natasha didn’t let go right away. Her fingers lingered, a silent promise that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Ross lingered on them both for a beat too long, clearly weighing the fact that the room wasn’t his anymore.

No one moved. The air was taut, the silence humming.

Natasha’s grip didn’t loosen on the package. No one here knew what was inside. No one knew what it might mean.

Not yet.

Chapter Text

2016. Avengers Compound, New York

May

WANDA

It was the middle of the night when Wanda bolted upright, her chest tightening. A pulse of dread brushed against her senses — dozens of minds, hostile and closing fast.

No uniform rhythm of civilians, no scattered thoughts of travelers. Just men, disciplined, armed, and heading straight for the compound.

She didn’t hesitate.

‘Pietro.’

Her voice cut through their shared link, sharp enough to jolt him awake.

‘Get the others. Now.’

A rustle of sheets, then Pietro’s blur of motion shot down the hall, banging on doors as he roused Steve, Sam, and Bucky. Wanda didn’t wait to confirm. She was already sliding from bed, bare feet on cold floor, turning toward the room next to hers.

Natasha’s.

The lock clicked open with ease. Natasha had given her access weeks ago when she had nightmares plaguing her every night, though neither of them spoke much about why.

Wanda slipped inside.

“Natasha.” Wanda whispered as she approached her bed. When she did not get a response, she tried again.

“Nat—” her voice was low but urgent as Wanda gently rests her hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha was already stirring, but Wanda’s arrival pushed her into motion. There was no confusion in her eyes, only the reflex of someone who had lived her entire life one second away from running. In one fluid motion, Natasha’s hand went beneath her pillow and came up with a pistol, safety flicked off.

“What is it?”

“Armed men,” Wanda said. “They’re coming fast. I can feel it… and they’re not here for a friendly chat.”

Natasha was off the bed in an instant, reaching for the duffel at her side. She didn’t fumble, didn’t scramble. She moved with the precision of someone who had rehearsed this night a hundred times. Weapons, clothes, essentials — all waiting. The only break in her rhythm came when she knelt and pulled a shoebox from beneath the bed, tucking it into the bag. Wanda caught a flicker of pale fingers around glass inside, test tubes rattling softly.

Natasha slung the strap over her shoulder, and as she straightened, Wanda’s eyes snagged on something else — the faint metallic glint of a cuff locked around Natasha’s wrist, securing her to the bedframe. For half a heartbeat, confusion flared. But Natasha had already unlocked herself, movements quick, wordless, as if nothing about it mattered. She didn’t explain, and Wanda didn’t have time to ask.

The hall was chaos now. Doors flying open. Steve half-dressed but already strapping on his shield.

Sam cursing under his breath, “This has to be Ross — there is no way he got clearance for this.”

Bucky’s voice was quieter, grim as his shoulders stiffened. “If it’s him, then we all know who he’s here for.” He jerked his head towards Natasha's direction. “You heard what he said from before.”

“Either way, we’re not staying to find out,” Steve urged, trying to herd them toward the back exit.

The night split with the sudden clatter of metal. A grenade skittered across the concrete, bouncing toward where Bucky lagged behind.

“Get down!” Steve barked.

He shoved Bucky back, shield snapping into place. The explosion tore through the courtyard, impact blasting against vibranium, heat biting up Steve’s arm. He hit the ground hard, groaning as his shoulder took the brunt.

“Steve!” Sam dropped beside him, hauling him up. The shield had saved his life, but burns laced his arm where the shockwave had ripped through.

Natasha was there too, steadying him with a hand at his back, gun never lowering. Her eyes flicked once at the injury, then back outward, calculating exits.

Bucky’s face twisted with guilt. Steve gritted through it, voice harsh. “I’m fine. Move.”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s footsteps falter before Pietro held his hand and pulled on him urgently.

“Not your fault Bucky, you’re still injured from Stark remember?”

The footsteps were too close now. The building shuddered faintly under heavy boots. They were already inside the grounds.

Wanda’s hand found Natasha’s in the scramble. She didn’t remember reaching for her, but she held on tight, tugging her into step. Natasha didn’t resist. There wasn’t time for questions, only action.

They burst into the night air, breaths white in the cold. Half-dressed, weapons in hand, nothing but instinct keeping them moving. The compound was seconds away from being overrun when Wanda stopped, planting her feet.

“Hold on to me.” Her voice was firm, cutting through panic. Pietro was beside her in a blink, hand on her other arm. Steve, Sam, Bucky gathering close. Natasha at her side, still clutching her bag, still silent.

Wanda closed her eyes, power surging. Scarlet threads flared in her palms, wrapping them all in a rush of heat and static.

The compound dissolved.

And in its place, the dark, whispering woods of Sokovia rose up around them. The only place that Wanda can think of to keep them safe.

2016. Woods in Sokovia

May

The forest air was cold and damp, clinging to their skin the moment they landed. The sudden silence after the chaos at the compound was disorienting.

Natasha’s breath misted as she adjusted the strap of her bag, every movement controlled, as though slowing down would break the spell of escape. Steve leaned heavily against a pine trunk, his shield at his side, his arm trembling from the blast wound. He tried to straighten, tried to make it look less than it was, but Sam’s eyes caught the pain anyway.

“Let me see,” Sam muttered, crouching at his side. Steve shook his head.

“I said I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Pietro pointed out, sharp and restless, pacing the treeline like a caged thing. His hands clenched and unclenched as if speed alone could solve the mess. He turned on Steve. “How the hell did Ross even get men together this fast? How does he still pull strings after the Accords?!”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the ground. When he did, his voice carried the weight of hard truth. “Because he never stopped. Ross doesn’t quit—he just waits. He’s been looking for an opening, and we gave him one.”

Bucky’s voice was quieter, edged with a heaviness that seemed to sink into the trees. “He’s not after all of us. He’s after me. And her.” His eyes flicked to Natasha.

Nobody challenged it.

Steve’s jaw tightened. “He must’ve moved without clearance. There’s no way the Council signed off on this—not like this.”

Sam swore under his breath. “So he’s going rogue now? Great.”

The forest fell into uneasy silence. Pietro’s pacing slowed, but his shoulders twitched with energy. Steve’s breathing steadied, though every inhale caught faintly from his injured side.

Natasha hadn’t said a word. She stood slightly apart, back to the group, her hand curled tight around the strap of her duffel. Wanda’s gaze lingered there—the small, taut line of her knuckles, the way she clutched it as if the bag itself was survival.

Wanda didn’t need to see inside to know what was in there. She’d seen the shoebox. She’d seen the photograph.

And she couldn’t shake the feeling Natasha knew she was watching.

Steve finally pushed himself upright, steadying against the tree. His voice cut through the tension, even but tired. “Everyone holding up?”

Sam gave a dry laugh. “Define holding up.”

Pietro rolled his eyes. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Bucky stayed silent.

Steve’s ragged breathing pulled everyone back into the present. He straightened, shield still strapped to his arm, and looked over the group.

“I have a plan. I’ve been approached by someone—an ambassador from Wakanda. T’Challa’s people. They offered asylum. If we can get there, we’ll be safe.”

That earned him their attention. Sam’s expression sharpened, Pietro slowed, even Wanda glanced up.

“Wakanda?” Pietro echoed as he looked at Wanda sharply.

“They’ll take us in,” Steve confirmed. “But we can’t all move together. Too many eyes. We split, keep contact when we can. Meet there.”

Natasha finally looked back at them, her face unreadable, her voice broke the silence she had held until now.“I’ll go alone.”

The words landed like a stone in the still air.

The words dropped like a stone in water, sending ripples through the group.

Pietro stopped pacing. Sam straightened from where he was standing over Steve. Wanda’s gaze snapped to her, unsettled, about to argue.

Natasha didn’t look at her and continued. “It’s the smartest way. Moving together is asking to get caught.”

Wanda’s eyes found hers. “And you don’t want to stay with us because…?”

“It’s not that,” Natasha replied evenly, finally meeting Wanda’s gaze. She kept her grip on the bag steady and didn’t look away.“It’s a strategy. Moving together gets us noticed.”

Wanda continued staring at her. “And moving apart gets us picked off.”

“It also gives the rest of us a chance if one of us is taken,” Natasha replied without a beat. “We’re not walking into a trap.”

Sam straightened up from the tree he’s leaning on. “I’m with her. Scatter. Check in. Meet later.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. He didn’t argue.

Before the debate could continue, Steve faltered. His shoulder rolled forward, and his grip on the shield faltered as pain dragged the strength out of him. The heavy clang of metal sounded as his knees buckled before he caught himself against a tree, sweat running down his temple.

“Steve,” Bucky muttered with guilt as he stepped closer, but Natasha was already moving, bag slung down, her tone shifting into clipped efficiency. She crouched at his side without hesitation, her hands firm but careful as she pressed against his side.

“How bad is it? Talk to me.”She pressed a hand against his chest, steadying him, eyes narrowing as she spotted the crimson blooming across his uniform. The blast back at the compound—the one he brushed off—wasn’t something he could hide anymore.

He gave a faint, stubborn smile. “I’ve had worse.”

“You should’ve listened to us,” Natasha scolded as she inspected the wound. Her voice was clipped, efficient, but laced with concern. She tugged at the torn fabric, exposing the shrapnel injury across his side. “How’d you let it get this far?”

The blast wound on his side had soaked through more of his shirt than he’d admitted. Up close, it was worse — angry red along his ribs where the grenade’s force had slammed into him even through the shield.

He clenched his jaw, trying to wave her off, but Natasha ignored it. Her hands were already pressing near the wound, checking for depth, for shrapnel.

Steve gritted his teeth, trying to wave her off. “It’s nothing. We don’t have time for—”

“Don’t be stubborn,” she cut in. “You’ll bleed out before we even continue to make a plan.” She reached for her kit, movements precise, practiced, almost too careful.

Steve tried to protest again, but she cut him a sharp look. For a second, the soldier in him deferred to the assassin in her.

Wanda’s stomach twisted as she watched the way Natasha hovered close, fingers brushing his skin as she asses his injury. The soft patience in her tone as she spoke to Steve giving her a sense of unease. Wanda knew it wasn’t rational, knew it wasn’t fair—but something twisted anyway, low and sharp. Watching Natasha focus so wholly on Steve while ignoring her, after everything, after clutching that bag like it was more important than the people standing beside her. Still, she hated the way it felt — hated how invisible she suddenly was.The sight made her chest tighten all the same.

Wanda’s powers stirred before she could stop them, a faint hum curling in her palms. Enough.

“Let me,” Wanda said quietly. She stepped between them before Natasha could press further into the wound. Red energy pulsed in her hand as she placed it lightly over Steve’s side. His eyes widened, then softened as the tension bled out of him.

The glow faded, leaving him steadier. His breathing eased, the stiffness loosening in his frame.

Steve tested his lungs with a slow inhale, then exhaled without pain. He glanced at Wanda. “Thank you.”

“It’s fine now,” Wanda murmured, pulling back before anyone could say more. Her hand lingered only a moment on Steve’s shoulder, then she turned. “We need to keep moving.”

Natasha’s hands stilled mid-motion, caught off guard by the interruption. She didn’t say anything—didn’t protest—but her expression tightened for a fraction of a second. Wanda caught it, and turned away before it could say more.

“Come on,” she murmured. “I know where we can go.”

She didn’t look at Natasha as she walked past, guiding Pietro and Bucky toward the faint path leading deeper into the forest.

The group fell in behind her, Pietro lingering just long enough to notice the flicker on his sister’s face—the silence stretched taut in her jaw, the way she didn’t look back at Natasha. He said nothing, but his brow furrowed, storing it away.

Through the dark trees, the faint shimmer of moonlight on water appeared. The lake lay ahead, still and quiet, with a cabin crouched by its edge.

Natasha watched her go, lips pressed tight, before picking up the bag she had set down beside Steve.

Wanda led them straight to it without a word.

The moment of respite ended. The tension didn’t.

The cabin by the lake came into view, half-forgotten and cloaked in shadow, just as Wanda remembered it from another life. She didn’t explain how she knew it would be there. She didn’t need to.

“Inside,” Wanda said, holding the door open. Her tone was clipped, not unkind, but heavy enough that Pietro gave her a curious look.

He noticed, but said nothing.

The group filed in, exhausted and shaken, every sound dulled by the weight pressing down on them. The cabin settled into quiet as the door closed behind them. The faint creak of wood, the slow rhythm of breathing, and the distant sound of the lake outside were all that filled the space.

Steve leaned against the wall, breathing easier now but still pale. Sam and Bucky exchanged low words but didn’t push for more.Natasha busied herself with clearing space, her bag never leaving her side.

Wanda stayed by the door, quiet, watching them all—yet her eyes kept on lingering on Natasha longer than she should have. A storm pressed at the edge of her chest, unspoken, unformed, but there

No one spoke. The silence stretched, heavier with each breath.

The cabin was quiet except for the creak of old wood as they settled inside. The air smelled faintly of damp pine and smoke from years past. They had barely caught their breath when Steve finally spoke, steady but direct.

“We can’t stay clustered,” he said, looking around the room. “Ross will keep coming. If we move in one group, we’ll stand out. Like I said before, Wakanda is our best chance — they’ve offered us asylum. We split up, travel separately, and regroup there. It’s the best thing that we can bet on until the Accords is still in place.”

Sam nodded, arms crossed over his chest. “Makes sense. We’ll cover more ground that way, and less risk of getting noticed.”

Bucky leaned against the wall, expression tight. His eyes flicked to Wanda and Pietro before he said quietly, “Splitting up… that’s fine for some of us. But they want to stay here.”

Wanda straightened at that, Pietro beside her with the same stubborn look. “This place is hidden,” Wanda said firmly. “I can keep us safe. I can build a ward, a barrier. No one would even know we’re here.”

Steve shook his head. “I believe you could — but it won’t hold forever. If Ross finds a trace, if anyone leaks a trail, you’ll be boxed in. I won’t risk you like that.”

“Then don’t,” Pietro cut in. “Wanda and I know these woods. We can disappear here easier than marching across half the world.”

The argument stalled for a moment until Natasha finally spoke. She had been silent, the bag with the package still close at her side. “Do what you want. But I’m still going alone.”

The fire popped sharply in the hearth, filling the silence Natasha’s words left hanging.

Wanda turned to her, her voice low, sharp with emotion. “Why do you want to go alone?” Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it carried enough weight to make everyone look at her. She was still standing near the door, eyes fixed on Natasha.

Natasha’s eyes didn’t waver. “Because together, we’re easier to track. And I have things I need to finish alone.”

Sam frowned but didn’t press her. Steve’s jaw tightened, clearly weighing the clash of wills before him.

The fire crackled in the silence, everyone waiting to see which way the decision would fall.

Natasha didn’t flinch under Wanda’s gaze and continued. “Think of this logically. It’s safer if we split.”

Wanda took a step closer, her tone steady but edged. “Safer for who? We could stay here. I already said that I can make a hex—no one would get in, no one would even know we’re here.”

Her words hung in the air, threaded with quiet defiance. Pietro shifted in his seat, watching his sister with a flicker of unease, but didn’t intervene.

Natasha’s answer was firm, almost too quick. “I said I’ll go alone.”

The firelight caught on Wanda’s clenched hands, faint sparks flaring before she forced them still. “You’re not even listening to me,” she said quietly, though her voice trembled at the edges. “Why do you always want to go alone, Natasha? Give me the real reason.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked to her, guarded. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple,” Wanda pressed, her hurt bleeding through now. “You keep pushing everyone away, like we’re only going to slow you down. Like I’m only going to slow you down.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose, steady but guarded. “I don’t want anyone else paying the price for what I need to do. You wouldn’t understand.”

“That’s not fair,” Wanda shot back. “You don’t even give me the chance to understand.”

Natasha’s jaw flexed. “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Wanda pressed, eyes sharp now, the weight of her hurt plain. “Because all I hear is that you’d rather take the risk alone than trust us to stand with you.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you mean.”

The room stilled at Wanda’s sharp tone. Pietro shifted uncomfortably, Sam glanced away, and even Steve and Bucky kept quiet, watching with wary eyes.

Wanda’s voice dropped, trembling at the edges. “You don’t trust me. You don’t trust any of us. You’d rather fight the world alone than let anyone close.”

Natasha’s control finally cracked. “Because you won’t stop pushing!” Her voice snapped through the air, raw and sharper than she meant. “You keep pressing for answers, for more than I can give right now. I can’t do this with you— not when you won’t let it go!”

The words hung heavy, the silence after them deafening.

Wanda’s face faltered, her lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came. The sting of Natasha’s outburst landed deep, her chest aching as she lowered her eyes.

Natasha looked at her once more, regret flickering but quickly smothered. She pushed herself up, grabbing her bag and heading for the door. “I’ll meet you in Wakanda.”

The cabin door shut behind her, and for a moment all Wanda could hear was her own heartbeat, too loud, too heavy. She didn’t move to stop her. She couldn’t.

Because it hurt too much.

Wanda couldn’t sit still after Natasha walked out. Her chest felt tight, as if the words had pressed down on her lungs. Before she knew it, her feet were moving, carrying her through the cabin’s quiet hall and into the cool night air.

She spotted Natasha a few steps away, phone pressed to her ear. Wanda slowed, her pulse jumping, half-ready to call her name—half-ready to apologize for pushing too far.

Then Natasha’s voice, low and even, drifted through the dark.

“Hey Rick, yeah. I’ll need the usual documents. Supplies, too. Anything that doesn’t draw attention.” A pause, a faint sigh. “You know the works.”

Wanda froze. She didn’t need to know who was on the other end. The tone was unmistakable. Relaxed. Familiar. A tone Natasha rarely spared for anyone.

The ache that had started inside her deepened, turning sharper. Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, the words replaying in her head. She had no right to feel this way, no claim, and yet the sound of Natasha’s easy voice for someone else hollowed her out.

Wanda turned away before Natasha could see her, the hollow weight of jealousy pressing deep in her chest. She barely noticed when she backed into someone until Pietro caught her arm to steady her, brows raised in silent question.

Wanda didn’t answer. Her fingers lit faintly with red, the glow twisting into shape before either of them could think.

A motorcycle shimmered into being, its engine silent until touched, the keys already hanging from the handle.

“Give this to her,” Wanda whispered, her voice firm but her eyes betraying the storm inside.

Pietro studied her, understanding flickering across his face, but he didn’t press. He only nodded, taking the bike by the handlebars.

“Easy, Сестро,” he murmured, eyes flicking to the faint red glow fading from her fingers. His gaze dropped to the motorcycle she had just conjured. A crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Making her presents now? Careful, she might start expecting flowers too.”

Wanda shot him a sharp look, her lips pressed tight, but she didn’t answer. Pietro’s smirk softened as he studied her. He saw it then—the tension wound too tight, the way she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he said more gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m teasing, but… don’t let it eat at you.”

Her throat ached. She wanted to argue, to brush it off, but the words stayed trapped.

Instead, she whispered, “Just… give it to her. Please.”

He nodded, understanding more than she wished he did. As he rolled the bike toward where Natasha stood, Wanda stayed rooted in the shadows, heart twisting.

For now, she said nothing. But Pietro’s glance back told her he was waiting. Waiting for when she was ready to talk.

2016. Somewhere in Sokovia

May

NATASHA

The road stretched endlessly under the roar of the motorcycle Wanda had conjured for her. Natasha leaned forward, every muscle taut as the wind tore at her hair, the night air sharp against her skin. She welcomed the sting.

It was better than replaying the argument with Wanda in her head — the anger in her voice, the look in her eyes when she pushed her too far. She hadn’t meant to snap. She hadn’t meant to shut Wanda out so cruelly. But the truth was, letting anyone in was harder than facing down a dozen armed men.

Natasha tightened her grip on the handlebars, jaw clenched. She told herself it was for Wanda’s safety. For all their safety. But the image of Wanda’s wounded eyes kept flashing back, and it burned worse than the air whipping against her skin.

She didn’t have time to think longer. Her instincts screamed—an impact slammed against her rear tire, sending the bike skidding sideways. Natasha braced, twisting into the roll as the motorcycle crashed into the dirt. She came up already drawing her weapons. And then she saw the figure stepping out of the shadows.

Natasha’s stomach dropped. Of course. She should have known. It wasn’t Ross’s men this time. The Red Room was still alive, still pulling strings in the shadows, and now they’d sent their weapon after her.

The Taskmaster.

Shield strapped to her arm, moving with calm precision, studying her with intense focus.

“Really?” she muttered under her breath, sliding the package tighter against her side.

Not this.

Not now.

Taskmaster moved first, shield cutting through the air in a deadly arc. Natasha ducked, rolled, countered with a sweep kick that met nothing but air. The mimic’s response was instant — a mirrored kick that forced Natasha back. Every strike Natasha landed was returned in kind, as if she were fighting her own shadow. Grapple, throw, pivot — countered, reversed, deflected.

The Taskmaster approach again without a word, shield flashing forward. Natasha ducked, rolled, and countered with a kick, her Widow’s Bite sparking. It connected, forcing Taskmaster back, but barely. The mimic responded instantly, fluidly slipping into a Steve-like counterstrike.

It became a rhythm. A brutal dance. Natasha fought with everything she had—knife work, acrobatics, sharp calculated blows. Taskmaster matched her every move, copying, improving, pushing. It was like fighting a reflection that knew all her angles.

But the Taskmaster wasn’t her.

She’s compromised. Natasha wasn’t just protecting herself. She kept one arm anchored close, shielding the package. That made her slower, just enough that Taskmaster nearly clipped her with the shield more than once.

Can’t lose it.

Not now.

Natasha spun low, sweeping Taskmaster’s legs, but the mimic landed perfectly, shifting into Clint’s style, back on her feet, arms extended. Natasha barely got out of range, heart pounding.

Natasha gritted her teeth, ignoring the throbbing ache still lingering from the motorcycle crash. She couldn’t afford hesitation. Not with the package at her side.

She adjusted her stance, baiting an opening. Taskmaster lunged — and Natasha slammed her elbow into the mimic’s visor, enough to stagger her half a step. Not much, but enough. She pressed, striking low, twisting high, every Red Room lesson carved into her bones thrown against the machine that studied and copied them all.

The shield came again, whistling through the air, sharper than a guillotine. Natasha ducked late, her balance slipping on the dirt. The weight of the bag knocked against her ribs — a reminder of what was at stake — and her eyes flicked for a fraction of a second to it.

The mistake cost her.

Taskmaster seized the moment, boot slamming into Natasha’s stomach, hurling her against a tree. The world blurred, the sound of rushing leaves filling her ears. She rolled away just as the shield spun back, embedding itself into bark where her head had been.

Pain flared hot, but Natasha forced herself upright. She spat blood, steadied herself, and tightened her grip on her baton. She wasn’t down. Not yet.

The Taskmaster reached for her shield, movements precise, efficient. Natasha could almost see the calculation in every step. She knew what the mimic wanted. The bag, the vials, Yelena’s plea. Natasha’s hand twitched toward the strap again, her resolve hardening.

Over her dead body.

The mimic charged. Natasha braced herself, but something shifted in the air — a sudden pull, a pressure that made the leaves shiver as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

The Taskmaster threw the shield again before it was suddenly ripped off its trajectory, just as it was about to carve into Natasha again.

The shield froze mid-air. Suspended, trembling, before it was yanked back with a violent crack into another’s hand.

Natasha blinked — and then she saw her.

Pietro lingered a few feet behind, tense and ready, but it was Wanda who drew every eye.

Wanda stood in the clearing, red light crackling around her hands, gleaming scarlet eyes burning with a silent fury that made the night itself seem to darken. The shield gleamed in her grip, her magic emanating off of it like it belonged to her, not to The Taskmaster. Her chest heaved, her steps slow, deliberate, predatory.

The mimic froze. For the first time, the perfect replica hesitated.

Natasha’s chest tightened in both relief and something else she didn’t want to name. 

Seeing Natasha bruised and beaten, Wanda didn’t waste words. She advanced, every step heavy with controlled fury. Chaos energy surged from her palm, latching onto Taskmaster’s suit, forcing circuits to spark and panels to warp, easily disabling it.

The mimic staggered, movements jerky, precision compromised.

Wanda raised the shield like it belonged to her. Her gaze was locked, unblinking, as if the only thing in the world was the person who dared hurt Natasha.

Wanda craned her neck towards the Taskmaster, eyes red with unbridled fury. She pursed her lips and shook her head slowly before lashing out, her speed rivaling her brother.

The ground quaked with every blast, trees bending from the force. Wanda struck hard, relentless, no hesitation. Taskmaster tried to block, but was sent off flying to the pavement, she tried to counter, but the suit’s systems faltered with a flick of Wanda’s wrist. Blow after blow rained down, chaos and steel colliding in a storm of fury.

And yet, Natasha felt like that wasn’t even a smidge of power that Wanda could give out.

“You dare hurt her,” Wanda finally let out, her voice low, vibrating with power. The shield spun once in the air, faster and faster, before it slammed into the ground at Taskmaster’s feet, almost slicing it off as it crack down the earth.

Taskmaster shifted stance, calculating again. Natasha saw it — the flicker of uncertainty.

Wanda didn’t wait. With a flick of her wrist, red tendrils wrapped around the mimic’s limbs, tightening, sparking. The suit sputtered, systems faltering under the unnatural interference. For a moment, Taskmaster looked almost human in her stagger.

Wanda’s power dug deeper, twisting the armor, pulling at its mechanisms until sparks spat out like fireworks.

Scarlet bands of energy lashed out, wrapping Taskmaster in a vice. Circuits sparked, the mimic’s suit whining under the overload. Wanda twisted her hand and the HUD on Taskmaster’s visor flickered violently, systems failing one by one as scarlet tendrils begin to lift her up in the air. The mimic squirmed, fighting to regain control, but Wanda didn’t stop. She advanced with the shield at her side, fury sharp and unrelenting.

For a heartbeat, Natasha swore she saw the Wanda she didn’t know—the Wanda she had never met, the one shaped by something darker. The one that Wanda herself warned her from. The power wasn’t controlled, it wasn’t careful—it was personal.

And it was fascinating. Natasha should be terrified, and yet, she isn’t.

“Wanda—” Natasha tried, voice low, Wanda paused and trained her ears towards her but didn’t move.

The Taskmaster used that moment of distraction and broke free just enough to stumble back, systems sparking.

Wanda’s next strike hit like a hammer, a crimson blast that hurled Taskmaster through the treeline. When the mimic crawled back to her feet, visor cracked and suit failing, she didn’t continue the fight. She retreated frantically, vanishing into the shadows, leaving her gear scattered in the dirt.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Wanda’s chest heaved, the shield still gripped in her hand, her eyes wild. Her powers hovering as if deciding to chase after her.

When Pietro’s voice cut through—soft, careful, “Wanda, enough”—did her gaze flicker away from the direction the Taskmaster fled in.

But it still wasn’t enough to ebb away the anger.

Wanda stood in the clearing like a storm slowly breaking apart, the shield slack in her grip, her chest still heaving. Her eyes burned faintly, not yet fully clear of the scarlet that had consumed her.

Pietro lingered a step behind, worried but ready, as if he wasn’t sure if he should approach her or keep his distance.

Natasha straightened slowly, still clutching the package against her chest. Relief washed through her, but so did unease. Her body ached from the fight, but what unsettled her more was Wanda.

The sheer, merciless anger in her eyes wasn’t the woman she knew. Wanda had saved her. More than that—Wanda had nearly lost herself in fury at the thought of her being hurt. 

It confuses her. Because no one has ever done something for her unless they have something to gain.

So, why?

Natasha opened her mouth to speak—but closed it again. There were no words that fit.

Natasha’s boots crunched softly over the dirt as she closed the space between them. The motorcycle was gone. The fight was over. What mattered at this moment was the woman in front of her, the one who had just unleashed a fury Natasha had never seen before.

“Wanda,” Natasha said carefully, her voice low, steady, trying to ground the other woman as much as herself.

Wanda’s head turned slowly, her gaze locking on Natasha. For a moment, Natasha thought she might not answer—that maybe she was still somewhere else entirely.

Then Wanda’s grip on the shield loosened. It slipped from her hand and landed with a dull thud between them.

Only then did Natasha see the truth flicker through Wanda’s eyes. Behind the anger, behind the power, there was fear.

And Natasha…  She doesn’t know what to do with it.

Natasha hesitated, then lifted her free hand. Her knuckles brushed lightly against Wanda’s arm, testing the space between them. Wanda didn’t pull away. She didn’t flinch.

Instead, Wanda let out a breath that trembled faintly, her shoulders easing just enough to show how tightly she’d been holding herself.

Natasha let her hand settle there, fingers curling just enough to anchor Wanda back to the present.

“I’m okay,” she murmured, steady and sure, even if the ache in her ribs and the sting of blood in her mouth said otherwise.

Wanda swallowed hard, her gaze darting briefly to the package Natasha still held before returning to her face. The scarlet light dimmed further, leaving her eyes clear, human again.

For the first time since the shield froze mid-air, Natasha saw Wanda—not the storm, not the fury. Just Wanda.

Pietro glanced between them, then turned his eyes away, giving them the space.

2016. Norway Trailer Hideout

May

Two days later, the world felt quieter, though not easier.

The trailer Rick Mason had set up sat tucked into the woods, far enough from the nearest road that it looked like a forgotten relic rather than a safehouse. Its siding was dented, paint peeling, windows taped over in places, but it was solid. Functional. Exactly the kind of place Natasha expected from him.

She leaned against the counter inside, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the doorway every so often. She hated waiting. She hated even more that she wasn’t waiting alone.

Wanda and Pietro sat across from each other at the rickety table. Pietro had slouched back in the chair, feet propped against another one, spinning a playing card between his fingers. Wanda, though, was different. She kept her head down, shoulders pulled in, tracing patterns along the edge of the tabletop with her fingertip. Every so often, her eyes darted toward Natasha like she wanted to speak—then dropped again before the words made it out.

It was such a sharp contrast from the woman in the clearing—the one who’d stood in fury, shield in hand, tearing Taskmaster’s suit apart—that it caught Natasha off guard each time. Wanda wasn’t storm or fire now. She was small, quiet. Awkward in a way that didn’t fit her, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself in the silence left behind.

Natasha had accepted it by now—that they weren’t leaving her. Or rather, that she wasn’t shaking them.

Pietro hadn’t argued. Wanda hadn’t either, though her silence then had been heavy, not agreement so much as resignation.

Now, that silence lingered still.

Pietro, either oblivious or deliberately filling the space, flipped his card high into the air and caught it again with a smirk.

“You know,” he said, tilting his head toward Natasha, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone glower at peeling wallpaper as much as you just did. Maybe Rick’s decorating skills offend you more than assassins with shields?”

Natasha didn’t take the bait, though the corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.

Wanda ducked her head lower, the ghost of a smile flickering before she smothered it.

Pietro’s grin widened. He kept going, light and teasing, throwing out half-serious quips, most of them aimed at Natasha’s iron composure.

The sound filled the trailer, making it less brittle, less raw. Wanda let him do it, offering small hums or shakes of her head, but her voice stayed tucked away, almost like she was waiting for permission to use it again.

Natasha didn’t comment. Didn’t push. She wasn’t sure she knew how to bridge that distance yet, either.

So she let Pietro talk, let Wanda shrink in on herself, and waited for Rick to arrive.

WANDA

The trailer door groaned open without a knock, the hinges squealing in protest.

“Still a cozy crowd, huh?” Rick Mason’s voice filled the space before he even stepped in, casual and unhurried as ever. He carried the air of someone walking into a bar he owned, not a safehouse full of fugitives.

Natasha straightened from where she leaned against the counter, expression flickering—something between relief and exasperation. “You’re late.”

“Traffic,” Rick shot back easily, closing the door with his foot. “Or maybe I just wanted to give you a chance to miss me.”

Wanda’s chest tightened at the way Natasha’s lip twitched—not quite a smile, but not a frown either. It was something softer, something familiar. Too familiar.

Rick dropped a duffel bag onto the table with a heavy thud. “Got what you asked for. Papers, phones, cash. A few toys if you’re feeling sentimental.” He flashed Natasha a grin, warm in a way that felt practiced. Comfortable.

“I heard you had to leave in a hurry.”

Natasha’s response was smooth, automatic. “It’s never easy these days.”

The words rolled off her tongue like they’d had the exchange a hundred times before, and Wanda’s stomach twisted. She kept her gaze down, hiding behind her hair, but Pietro didn’t miss it. His elbow nudged her lightly under the table, the corner of his mouth curling in mischief.

Wanda ignored him. Or tried to.

Rick unzipped the duffel, pulling out a stack of documents and sliding them Natasha’s way. “All clean. Won’t pass a microscope check, but you won’t need it to.”

Natasha sifted through them with quick efficiency, nodding once. “You’re good.”

“You say that like it’s news.” He leaned casually against the counter, close enough that Wanda felt something sharp spark under her skin.

Natasha didn’t move away, didn’t bristle. She just kept flipping through the papers, calm, steady, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Fanny Longbottom. Really?” Natasha raised her eyebrows at Rick before checking through the documents again.

“What? It is a real name.” Rick defended himself easily.

Wanda couldn’t bring herself to look up. Her fingers curled tightly into her lap instead, pressing crescents into her palms.

Pietro’s elbow nudged her again, this time paired with a low whisper only she could hear. “Careful, you’re going to burn a hole in the table.”

Her head snapped toward him with a glare, but he only raised his brows, amused.

Natasha glanced up at them then, just for a moment, suspicion flickering across her face. Wanda forced her expression blank, turning her gaze to the side. Pietro only smirked wider.

Rick, oblivious, zipped the duffel closed. “You’ll need to lay low for a while. Or at least try not to get blown up in the next twenty-four hours. Can’t have all my work going to waste.”

Natasha’s lips curved, this time unmistakably. “No promises.”

Wanda felt it again—that hollow twist in her chest, sharper than it should have been. She knew she didn’t have the right. She knew Natasha’s life had threads reaching far beyond her. But knowing didn’t stop the ache.

She stayed quiet. Pietro filled the silence for her.

Rick set the duffel to the side before motioning toward the door. “Got a few extras stashed in the truck. Come grab ’em before someone decides to take inventory for themselves.”

Natasha set the documents down and followed without hesitation, brushing past Wanda as she moved toward the door. She didn’t so much as glance her way, her focus already locked on Rick.

Wanda’s throat tightened.

The trailer door squeaked shut behind them, leaving Wanda and Pietro in a heavy silence. Pietro didn’t move, arms crossed, his sharp eyes flicking between his sister and the closed door.

Outside, voices carried through the thin metal walls.

“Still pulling favors for you, huh?” Rick’s tone was playful, almost fond.

“You owe me,” Natasha replied, her voice lower, but steady.

“I always owe you. Starting to think you like it that way.”

Wanda then heard a quiet laugh. Natasha’s laugh. Short, quick, and unguarded.

It landed like a blow. Wanda froze, every nerve on edge. The sound of it should have been a balm—soft, human, rare—but instead it sent her pulse racing with something she didn’t want to name.

Pietro leaned against the table, tilting his head. “You’re going to chew your lip bloody at this point Wanda.”

“I’m not—” Wanda cut herself off, forcing her hands flat on her knees. Her heart thudded against her ribs, hot and uneven.

From outside, Wanda heard Natasha again “Just make sure this doesn’t come back on you.”

“Relax. You know I like living dangerously.” She heard Rick reply easily.

Their voices faded as they moved further from the trailer, but Wanda’s head still buzzed with the echo of Natasha’s laugh.

“You look like you want to kill him,” Pietro said mildly.

“I don’t,” Wanda muttered, too quick, too defensive.

Her brother smirked. “Good. Because you’re not allowed. Not until you tell me why you look like that every time he makes her smile.”

Wanda’s eyes snapped up, but Pietro just shrugged, unbothered, like he had all the time in the world to drag this out.

She turned her face away, hair falling like a curtain.

Pietro’s smirk softened into something else—something quieter. He didn’t push. Not yet.

The voices outside carried on just enough to gnaw at Wanda’s chest.

“You should sleep sometime, Romanoff. You’re always running on fumes.”

“And miss you nagging me? Not a chance.”

Rick laughed. Warm. Easy. Like it wasn’t the middle of their world falling apart.

Wanda’s fists curled tight in her lap. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, jaw clenched. Every inflection, every easy word grated like sandpaper. Natasha had smiled with Rick—smiled, when Wanda couldn’t even get her to look at her after their fight.

The silence inside stretched until Pietro finally exhaled, pushing off the table and crouching in front of her. “You’re sulking.”

“I’m not,” she shot back, the words sharp but too quick.

“Mm. Sure,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, studying her. “You’ve got the look. Like when we were little and someone else sat next to me at school.”

She glared at him, but he only smiled faintly, patient.

“I don’t—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed it down. “I don’t have the right to feel this way.”

Pietro tilted his head, the way she always did. “Maybe not. Doesn’t mean you don’t.”

Her chest twisted. She looked past him, out the tiny window, where she could see shadows moving—Natasha’s silhouette brushing close to Rick’s as they shifted bags. The sight stabbed sharper than she wanted to admit.

“He makes her laugh,” Wanda murmured.

Pietro followed her gaze, then back to her. “You know what makes her not laugh? Her life. Her past. You two are more alike than you think.” His voice softened, but lost none of its weight. “You think she just… knows what to do with someone suddenly caring for her? You think she knows what to do with you?”

Wanda’s breath stilled.

“You’re angry because she shut you out. I get it. But don’t mistake her walls for absence of feeling.” Pietro tapped her knee lightly, pulling her gaze back to him. “She doesn’t know how to let someone in without expecting them to vanish. Or worse.”

Wanda blinked, her throat thickening.

“You want to be near her?” Pietro’s voice gentled even more. “Then stay near. Be patient. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

Wanda looked back at the window again—at the shadow that was Natasha, shoulders taut even as she leaned into conversation. Her hands loosened in her lap, but the ache didn’t fade.

“I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “Maybe I am too intense—too much.”

Pietro’s smile was sad, but steady. “Then learn. For her. Or you’ll lose her before you even had her.”

The words lingered, heavier than the silence that followed.

Wanda’s hands tightened on her knees, nails pressing into denim. “Do you think I should back off?” she asked quietly, so soft Pietro almost missed it.

He straightened a little, blinking. “Back off?”

She nodded, her gaze locked on the floor. “I’ve been… too much. Too close. She doesn’t need me crowding her when she’s already fighting everything else. Maybe I should just… give her space.”

Pietro frowned. “Wanda…”

But Wanda pressed on, voice trembling despite her attempt to hold it steady. “I came back here to fix things. To make sure none of it happens again—the stones, the Snap, all of it. I remember every second of it, Pietro. The sound when you—when you died. The way Vision’s face went blank when Thanos ripped the stone from him. The ashes in my hands when…” Her voice broke, her chest heaving as the names spilled out like open wounds. “You. Vision. Nat. Everyone I loved. Gone. And I was left alone. Always alone.”

Pietro’s jaw tightened, his hand moving to cover hers before she could fold in on herself.

“And now?” Her eyes brimmed, but her voice hardened with the weight of her fear. “Now I’ve changed it. You’re alive. Vision’s stone is still safe. Natasha—” She stopped, shaking her head. “I don’t even know what happened to her in that other timeline. All I know is when I came back, she’s already gone…”

Her voice fell away, hollow.

“I don’t know what became of her. I don’t know what she sacrificed, or how. And I keep thinking—what if she’s better off without me? What if being close to her just slows her down? She’s survived everything without me. What can I do to help someone who doesn’t need it?”

The silence that followed pressed heavily between them. Wanda finally looked up at Pietro, her eyes raw. “So tell me. Should I step back?”

Pietro’s chest ached at the sight of her—his fierce, unstoppable sister unraveling into someone small and uncertain. He squeezed her hands tight enough to ground her.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare.”

Wanda blinked.

“You’re not her burden, Wanda. You’re her anchor. You think Natasha, the Black Widow, lets anyone close without reason? You’re there because she wants you there. Even if she doesn’t know how to say it.” He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “You didn’t come back to fix the world just to erase yourself from everyone else.”

Her breath shuddered, and for the first time in hours, she let her forehead rest against his shoulder.

Pietro exhaled, his hand smoothing over her hair like when they were children. “She needs you,” he whispered. “Even if she hasn’t figured it out yet. So stay. Not because you think you can save her—but because you love her.”

The words sank deep, leaving Wanda both steadied and aching.

Pietro nudged her side before continuing playfully, his words lifting the moment. “And no, you don’t get to refute that. I know you. I’m your twin. You’re older twin.”

“Refute?” Wanda rolled her eyes and chuckled softly as she let her head remain resting in his shoulder “Big Words.”

“Hey!” Pietro replied playfully.

Wanda lifted her head from his shoulder after a beat, eyes still glassy but trying for composure. “How do you think Bucky is doing?” she asked, her voice quieter now, fragile in a different way.

Pietro tilted his head, surprised by the sudden shift. “Bucky?”

She nodded. “I asked him to do something no one else could. Well, not without asking too many questions anyway.”

Wanda shifted in her seat and shrugged. “I asked him to talk to Tony. Not to force a reconciliation, but in just getting Vision to Wakanda. It’s the only way to keep him from throwing himself in the line of fire for both of us. Giving him a task was the only way I could keep him safe. Seems easy enough with all the technology there.” Her hands twisted together. “But… do you think he’ll be okay?”

Pietro gave a small smirk. “You’re protective of him, too, hm? Should I be jealous?”

Wanda shot him a look, but her lips twitched despite herself. “I just—he’s been through so much. He deserves a chance to breathe. And if talking to Tony will lead to reconciliation, then that would be for the better, don’t you think?”

“Trust him,” Pietro said. “He’ll be fine. He’s got Steve and Sam watching his back. And maybe you’re right—maybe talking to Stark is what he needs. To face that, to move forward.”

Wanda nodded slowly, chewing on her lip. “Bucky needs this. More than I think he knows.”

“Then let him have it,” Pietro said gently.

The silence stretched comfortably for a moment before Pietro’s eyes narrowed in thought. “By the way… how did you even know Nat was in danger? One second we’re in the woods in Wakanda with Bucky, Steve, and Sam, the next you’re gone. I could barely keep up.”

Wanda hesitated, her brows furrowing. “I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “It wasn’t a vision. It wasn’t logic. I just… felt it. Like this pull in my chest, like I had to get to her. Right then. No matter what.”

Pietro studied her, his teasing gone, replaced with quiet understanding. “So you ran headfirst into a fight against some assassin you didn’t even know.”

Wanda’s lips quirked faintly, “Pretty much.”

The weight of that answer lingered in the air, heavy but undeniable.

Pietro stood and leaned back against the trailer wall, crossing his arms as he studied her carefully. “Then tell me this, Wanda. How did it feel? When you lost control back there. When you saw Natasha bleeding.”

Wanda flinched at the memory, her hands curling into fists in her lap. She turned and trained her eyes towards the Shield that she took. “It scared me,” she admitted, voice low, almost a whisper.

“Not the fight, not Taskmaster. Me. I was so… angry. I wasn’t thinking, Pietro. I didn’t care what happened. And for a moment, I didn’t care what I did to her either.” She shook her head, chest tightening. “What if I hurt you? What if I hurt her? That’s why I thought maybe giving her space was better. Because I—” her voice cracked, “—I got selfish.”

Pietro’s expression softened. He crouched down in front of her, catching her gaze. “It isn’t selfish to get angry when someone you love is hurt.”

“She’s not mine to love,” Wanda said quickly, but her eyes betrayed the denial.

“That’s not the point,” Pietro said firmly. “It’s human. You saw her on the ground, bleeding, and you snapped. Anyone would. You can’t punish yourself for that.”

Wanda shook her head, frustration bubbling up. “No, it’s more than that. I could’ve ended the Taskmaster in seconds. I know I could have. But I didn’t. I wanted her to feel it. To suffer. And I enjoyed it, Pietro. That’s what scares me.”

Her brother was quiet for a moment, reading the raw fear on her face.

“That’s the real reason I thought of backing off,” Wanda confessed, voice trembling. “I got too close. Too much. If I let myself keep… feeling like that, what if I lose control again? What if next time, it’s her? Or you? I don’t know if I can trust myself.”

She drew in a shaky breath, her eyes flicking up to him with an ache that was almost childlike. “Tell me the truth, Pietro. Am I too much? Just like you asked me earlier… am I too much now?”

Pietro stared at her for a long beat, searching her eyes. No words came—at least, none that felt big enough to hold what she was asking. Finally, he reached out, resting a hand gently over hers.

“I don’t know what the right answer is, Wanda. But whatever you choose, whatever path you take… I’ll be there. Always. Even when you don’t trust yourself, I do. We do. And one of these days, you’ll have to learn to trust yourself the same way.”

Wanda’s throat tightened, but she didn’t reply. She just nodded faintly, her eyes slipping away toward the dim light filtering through the trailer’s blinds.

Silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable—until she broke it herself, her voice softer, almost mischievous.

“So…” she said, lips curving into a faint smirk, “how long do you think Natasha and Rick will take? If it were me, I could’ve done everything he does for her with just a snap of my fingers.”

Pietro let out a snort, shaking his head. “Careful, Wanda. Your head’s getting bigger by the second.”

That earned the faintest laugh from her, the tension easing just a fraction.

The door creaked open before Wanda could answer Pietro’s jab. Natasha stepped inside first, Rick trailing behind her with an easy grin and a bag slung over his shoulder.

“All set,” Rick announced, dropping the supplies onto the small table with a soft thud. “Documents, fuel, some hardware. Should keep you ghosts in the wind a little longer.”

Natasha gave him a nod of thanks, her expression clipped but not unkind. “Appreciate it.” Her gaze flicked to Wanda then, brief and unreadable, before moving on.

Wanda’s stomach tightened. She sat a little straighter, suddenly hyperaware of her posture, her hands folded too neatly in her lap. Pietro, of course, noticed and smirked behind his hand, but he didn’t say anything.

Rick clapped his hands together. “Well, I’ll leave you to it before I end up on anyone’s wanted poster by association.” He cast a look at Natasha—half-teasing, half-serious. “Don’t get caught.”

Natasha’s lips twitched in something like amusement. “Don’t wait up.”

When Rick slipped out, the trailer fell quiet again. Natasha lingered near the door for a moment, her eyes sweeping over the twins. Wanda felt her cheeks warm under the glance. She lowered her gaze quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and keeping her mouth shut, afraid anything she said would come out wrong.

Pietro, sensing her silence, filled it easily. “So,” he started with a grin, leaning back against the couch, “does this mean we get to officially tag along, or are we still on probation?”

Natasha’s eyes cut to him, sharp but not unfriendly. “You can tag along. But it’s on my terms.”

Wanda nodded quickly, almost too quickly, though Natasha hadn’t been looking at her when she spoke. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, trying to look composed, but Pietro caught the way she curled into herself, the way she seemed almost small next to Natasha’s presence. Very unlike the woman who had stood blazing with fury in the forest days ago.

Natasha didn’t press it. She moved past them, setting the package down carefully on the table, as if its weight was heavier than it looked.

The silence lingered, thick and unspoken, until Pietro stretched on the couch and sighed dramatically. “Well,” he said, his grin wicked as he glanced between the two women, “this is cozy.”

Wanda nearly buried her face in her hands.

Natasha shot him a look before turning her attention back to the table, her fingers brushing over the package. “Get some rest. We move at first light.”

Her voice was even, clipped—more mission than comfort. But for Wanda, it landed differently. It wasn’t dismissal. It wasn’t warmth, either. It was Natasha’s way of keeping control, of holding them close without admitting she was doing it.

Wanda nodded quickly, almost too quickly. Pietro arched a brow at her, but let it go. Natasha’s gaze lingered on Wanda for a second longer than it should have, something unreadable flickering in her eyes, before she turned away.

Pietro’s gaze flicked around the cramped trailer home, then he let out a low whistle. “One bed,” he remarked, grin tugging at his mouth. “That’s going to be fun.”

Wanda’s head snapped toward him, a glare sharp enough to silence further teasing, though her cheeks warmed despite herself.

Natasha didn’t miss a beat. She gave a small shrug, utterly unfazed. “Figure it out,” she said, brushing past Wanda as she moved toward the bed. Her shoulder grazed Wanda’s arm, light but deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth that Wanda tried not to react to.

Wanda’s breath caught for a fraction of a second, but she forced herself to stay still, eyes fixed anywhere but Natasha.

Pietro stretched, already sprawled onto the makeshift couch with his usual nonchalance.

“Well, that settles it. Couch is mine.” He shot his sister a wicked grin. “Which means, cестро, you and Romanoff get to negotiate.”

“Pietro,” Wanda hissed, the warning sharp in her tone, though her ears burned.

He only chuckled, throwing an arm over his eyes as if already asleep. “Don’t worry, I’ll sleep just fine knowing you’ll figure something out.”

Natasha smirked faintly at that but said nothing, lowering herself onto one side of the bed as if the matter were closed.

The silence that followed was heavier than Wanda liked to admit.

The trailer was quiet except for the soft, even sound of Pietro’s breathing. He had claimed the couch with theatrical bravado earlier, throwing himself onto it as though it were a sacrifice. It hadn’t been much more than a narrow bench with thin cushions, but Pietro managed to sprawl across it diagonally, one arm flung over his face, already snoring faintly.

Natasha had taken the bed. She’d made it look like a simple choice, tossing her jacket aside and slipping under the sheets without hesitation, her movements brisk, efficient. Typical. But Wanda had noticed the brief brush of Natasha’s shoulder against hers as she passed—the deliberate nonchalance that somehow burned hotter than any touch meant to linger.

Now Wanda stood in the small center aisle of the trailer, frozen in place. The bed wasn’t large, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t shared space before. They’d slept shoulder to shoulder, cuddled even back when nightmares plague her dreams. Back then, Wanda hadn’t thought twice about it. But now—after everything, after the fight, after her outburst—it felt impossible.

She lingered too long. Natasha had turned on her side, back to the room, her breathing quiet and controlled. Awake. Wanda could tell. Always awake.

Her throat tightened. She eased the door open as quietly as she could and stepped outside.

The air was cooler, the forest pressing close around them, shadows stretching long beneath a waning moon. She sank onto the metal steps, drawing her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. The night was alive with the soft hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves, but Wanda’s mind was louder.

Images replayed, unrelenting. Natasha’s body hitting the tree, bruised and bloodied under Taskmaster’s blows. The taste of her own rage, sharp and metallic on her tongue, when she’d nearly torn the mimic apart. The way Natasha hadn’t looked at her afterward.

Wanda pressed her forehead to her knees.

She’d scared herself. Not just with the power, not just with how easily she had stripped Taskmaster’s suit apart piece by piece, but with the intent behind it. She hadn’t wanted to stop her. She had wanted to make her hurt. To break her. Because she had hurt Natasha.

It should have satisfied her — the sound of impact, the sheer force of it. Instead, a sick twist of dread coiled in her stomach. That wasn’t how she fought. That wasn’t her. Or maybe it was, and that was the part that terrified her most. That was worse than anything.

Pietro’s words from earlier came back to her, unbidden. It’s only natural, Wanda. If you see someone you care about hurt, you get angry.

But Wanda hadn’t gotten angry. She’d gotten consumed.

She could still feel it, humming beneath her skin, ready to claw its way out if Natasha ever looked at her with bruises on her face again.

What if she lost control? What if it wasn’t Taskmaster next time? What if it was Natasha? Or Pietro?

She clenched her fists in her lap. That was why she thought about pulling back. Giving Natasha space. Protecting her by staying away, even if it tore her apart.

The trailer door creaked behind her. Wanda didn’t turn right away. She knew that sound too well. Light, practiced steps. She swallowed hard when Natasha stepped out, leaning casually against the railing before sitting beside her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Natasha’s voice was soft, low enough not to wake Pietro.

Wanda shook her head, her hair falling forward. “No.”

Natasha didn’t answer. For a while they sat in silence, the air heavy with everything unsaid. Wanda’s pulse thrummed loud in her ears.

And then, before she could stop herself, it slipped out. Serious, weighted.

“Talia.”

Natasha’s head turned sharply. The name cut through the night like a blade.

Wanda had never called her that before. Not in a moment like this. She only used it when she wanted Natasha to know she was speaking to the woman beneath all the walls, all the masks.

“Why do you keep shutting me out?” Wanda whispered, the words trembling.

Natasha’s gaze held hers for a long moment. Her lips parted, then closed again. She looked away, exhaling slowly, as though the question had pried open something she’d locked too tight.

“Because letting you in is harder than fighting everything else,” Natasha said finally. Her tone was rough, not sharp—raw. “Because I don’t know how to do this. To… care. Not without thinking it’ll be taken away. Or controlled or used against me.”

The words landed heavy. Wanda’s chest ached.

“I don’t want to own you,” Wanda murmured. “I just… I want to be here.”

Natasha’s arms tightened around herself, as if she could shield the words off. “And I don’t want to hurt you by being who I am. I’ve spent years learning that love meant control. Ownership. I’m trying to unlearn that, but it’s not simple. And when you push—” Her jaw clenched. “I snap. I don’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

The apology scraped out of her like it cost her everything to say it.

Wanda blinked against the sting in her eyes. “I’m sorry too. If I’m too much. If I push too hard.” Her voice cracked. “Maybe I should give you space.”

Natasha turned then, finally meeting her gaze head-on. Something unguarded flickered there, something Wanda had never seen this naked before. Fear.

“No,” Natasha said quietly. “Don’t pull away. Just… be patient with me. Please.”

The plea undid Wanda. She reached out before she could second-guess herself, fingers brushing Natasha’s hand.

Testing.

Asking.

Natasha didn’t pull back. Slowly, her hand shifted, fitting against Wanda’s. Her shoulders loosened, the tension seeping out like a long-held breath.

For a while, they sat like that, hand in hand, the silence around them no longer heavy but steady.

Wanda broke it first, her voice a whisper. “When Taskmaster had you, I… I lost control.” She swallowed, her grip tightening. “I scared myself. Because I wanted to make her hurt. Not just stop her. Hurt her.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed, but she stayed quiet, letting Wanda unravel.

“I keep thinking—what if it was you next time? Or Pietro? What if I’m too much?” The last words broke like glass.

Natasha’s thumb brushed once, lightly, against the back of her hand. “You’re not too much,” she murmured softly.

But Wanda shook her head, tears threatening. “I could’ve killed her. I wanted to. And that… that isn’t who I want to be. Who I'm trying to be. That’s why I thought about giving you space. Because I got selfish.”

Natasha’s voice softened, steady. “You got angry because you care. That doesn’t make you a monster, Wanda. It makes you human.”

Wanda pressed her lips together, not believing it fully, but needing to.

Another silence settled. And then Natasha leaned closer, just enough that her shoulder brushed Wanda’s.

“The package,” she murmured, voice low, as if admitting it was dangerous. “ My s-sister sent it. I don’t know what she wants me to do with it yet. But I can’t ignore it.”

Wanda turned, watching her, heart squeezing at the way Natasha’s voice caught on sister.

“All this time, I… I thought I ended everything that had to do with that place. But I got it all wrong.” Natasha continued softly as she rubbed her thumbs at the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Wanda said softly, squeezing Natasha’s hand to tell her that she’s with her. “Together.”

The word lingered in the air, heavy with promise. Together. Natasha’s eyes flickered, as if the sound of it cracked something she’d been holding shut for far too long. Her face softened in a way Wanda rarely saw—unguarded, almost fragile.

Natasha leaned in slowly, hesitation etched in every line of her body, as if she might still retreat. But she didn’t. She pressed her lips to Wanda’s cheek, against the corner of her lips, feather-light, lingering just long enough that the warmth sank in. It wasn’t a kiss meant to claim. It was one meant to reassure, to admit what her words couldn’t yet say.

Wanda’s breath caught. Heat spread across her skin, quick and dizzying, her pulse hammering in her ears. For a moment, she thought she might dissolve, undone by the tenderness of it.

“Thank you,” Natasha whispered. Her voice cracked on the words, so quiet Wanda almost wondered if she’d imagined it. Then Natasha’s arms came around her, drawing her close. The hug was fierce, tight, uncharacteristic, like she was afraid to let go once she had her.

Wanda froze only for a heartbeat before melting into her, arms sliding around Natasha’s waist. She pressed her face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in—the faint scent of leather and lavender, of home she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

Natasha’s heartbeat thudded against her chest, steady and real, and Wanda clung tighter.

Natasha’s hand rose, hesitated, then smoothed gently down Wanda’s hair. The touch was so careful it nearly broke her. Wanda shut her eyes, letting herself soak in the simple sweetness of it—the warmth, the safety, the unspoken vow wrapped in Natasha’s silence.

In that fragile, stolen moment, Wanda understood something she hadn’t dared hope for.

Natasha wasn’t just asking her to stay close. She was asking her to stay with her.

And Wanda, heart pounding, already knew her answer.

Chapter Text

2016. Norway Trailer Hideout

May

NATASHA

The trailer smelled faintly of stale coffee and old wood, the kind of scent that clung after too many restless nights and too little fresh air. Thin curtains let in streaks of pale morning light, cutting across the cramped space in uneven lines. The heater hummed low in the corner, rattling now and then, doing little to keep away the chill that seeped in through the walls.

Pietro was already awake, sprawled on the battered couch like he had been there for hours, a chipped mug balanced loosely in his hand. He sipped it lazily, grimacing after every swallow but going back for more anyway. His leg bounced with restless energy, a tic he never really grew out of, and his sharp eyes flicked every so often to the bed across from him.

Natasha lay still, stretched on her side with her back half-turned toward the room. To anyone else, she might have looked asleep, perfectly still, her breathing slow and measured.

But Pietro knew better.

She was awake. She had been awake for a while. The kind of awake where you catalog every sound, every shadow, where you let your body rest but keep your mind on alert.

The only reason she hadn’t moved was Wanda.

Wanda was pressed close against her, an arm draped loosely around Natasha’s waist, her face tucked into the crook of her shoulder. Her grip wasn’t tight, just enough to anchor herself there, soft and unyielding at once. Her breathing was even, warm against Natasha’s skin. And Natasha… hadn’t done anything about it.

She could have shifted away at any time, could have eased out from under Wanda’s touch without waking her. It would have been easy. She had done harder things blindfolded and bleeding. But she hadn’t moved.

Instead, she lay there, still as stone, telling herself it was easier this way. That she didn’t want to wake Wanda. That she didn’t want to deal with the soft look in her eyes if she did. But she knew the truth. The truth was that she didn’t mind it. The quiet weight of being held, for once, instead of being the one to hold everything together — it was unfamiliar. But not unwelcome.

“You know,” Pietro’s voice cut through the silence at last, pitched low but amused, “you’ve been lying like that for half an hour. Careful, Romanoff. People might think you’re enjoying it.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked toward him, her face still schooled in practiced calm, but the corner of her mouth curved before she could stop it.

“She’s comfortable,” she said evenly.

Pietro’s brows lifted, his smirk widening. He leaned back against the couch, balancing his mug in one hand like a man with all the time in the world. “Baby steps, huh? I get it.” He raised the mug in mock salute, his grin all teeth. “Just don’t break her heart. You wouldn’t survive me.”

Natasha let out a quiet breath, half laugh, half warning. She didn’t rise to the bait, didn’t let him see more than the small twitch of a smirk she knew he’d catch anyway.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she murmured, her voice reflecting a hint of vulnerability which honestly surprised Pietro.

The trailer was still again, save for the low hum of the heater and the quiet sip of Pietro’s drink. Natasha almost thought Wanda would keep sleeping through it, but then she stirred. Her fingers flexed faintly against Natasha’s side, a little twitch that betrayed the slow climb from sleep to waking.

Wanda blinked herself awake, lids heavy, her gaze unfocused at first. Then awareness hit. She was wrapped around Natasha. Her arm was still across her waist. She was pressed into her shoulder, almost draping herself all over her.

Her breath caught. Color rushed to her cheeks.

And Pietro was watching.

She pulled back too quickly, disentangling herself as if burned. Her voice was a mumble, small and guilty. “Good morning.”

“Good morning indeed,” Pietro replied smoothly, grin wicked.

Wanda’s flush deepened, her eyes flicking down, then away. Her embarrassment sat heavy on her shoulders, her usual confidence stripped bare in the face of her brother’s teasing.

Natasha sat up before Wanda could retreat further, moving with deliberate ease. Her tone was calm, steady, cutting through the awkwardness. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Still flushed, Wanda nodded in reply as she sits up.

Natasha brushed off her awkwardness and offered her hand to Wanda. “Let’s get breakfast, we need to get a head start.”

Breakfast was quick, clumsy in the way mornings in hiding always were. Natasha pulled a dented tin of coffee grounds and a half-crushed box of cereal from the cupboard. She set them on the table with dry finality.

“Breakfast of champions,” she said.

Pietro leaned over her shoulder, peering into the box with a grimace. “Champions of malnutrition. What’s next? Half a stale cracker and call it gourmet?”

Natasha arched a brow. “You’re welcome to hunt for something better.”

Wanda reached for the box before Pietro could say more, pouring cereal into mismatched bowls. She set one near Natasha without thinking, her hand brushing hers in the cramped space.

Pietro caught the gesture instantly. His grin returned. “Oh, I see how it is. Favoritism.”

Wanda flicked a spoon at him with a muttered, “Умукни.”[Serbian/Sokovian: Shut up.]

Pietro snorted into his coffee, unbothered. “Love you too, cестро.” [Serbian/Sokovian: Sister.]

Natasha smirked as she brushed past them toward the counter, but this time she didn’t hide the small curl at her lips fast enough. Wanda saw it, her flush deepening, while Pietro only looked more pleased with himself.

The weight of the morning settled after that, the brief ease of their banter dimming into the silence of what came next. Natasha set her mug down with care, her eyes fixed somewhere far away.

“Eat up,” she said again, quieter this time. “We’ve got a long trip ahead.”

Wanda tilted her head, uncertain. “Where?”

Natasha looked at her for a long moment, gaze steady, deliberate.

“Budapest.”

The name hung in the small space like smoke, heavy and sharp. Pietro gave a low whistle, feigning lightness, but even he didn’t crack a joke this time.

Wanda’s eyes stayed on Natasha, searching, but Natasha didn’t look back.

2016. Budapest

May

The train cut through the countryside with a low, steady rumble, its cars sparsely filled this late in the day. They’d managed to secure a private cabin, curtains drawn, the door locked from the inside. Outside, farmland blurred into rolling hills, the sky dimming toward dusk.

Natasha sat by the window, one arm resting on the small table between the seats, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery. She hadn’t said much since they left the trailer. Wanda could see the set of her jaw in the fading light, the way she carried silence like armor.

Across from her, Pietro sprawled with his boots propped on the opposite seat, a deck of bent playing cards in his hands. He shuffled with lazy speed, then glanced between the two women with a grin. “So this is it? A romantic getaway, and I’m the chaperone?”

Wanda rolled her eyes, muttering in Sokovian, “Idiote.”

Natasha’s lips quirked faintly, but she didn’t take the bait.

“You could at least pretend I’m useful,” Pietro went on, fanning the cards dramatically. “Otherwise people will think you’re keeping me around for my good looks.”

Wanda swatted the cards from his hand with a flick of red light. “Stop.”

Pietro chuckled, leaning back, unbothered. His gaze flicked to Natasha, as if hoping she’d side with him.

But Natasha only shrug, “Keep your voice down.”

Pietro dramatically rolls his eyes before replying with a quip of his own. “Of course you’ll side with her.” 

The rest of the ride passed in that uneasy rhythm. Wanda was watching, Pietro teasing, Natasha locked in her own thoughts. The train’s low rattle filled the silences where conversation should have gone.

The train pulled into Budapest in the late afternoon, its brakes squealing as the cars slowed. The station buzzed with the noise of people going about their lives, commuters rushing past with bags and chatter, the air heavy with iron and the faint smell of smoke.

Natasha led the way off the platform, bag slung over her shoulder, her pace brisk but unhurried. Pietro trailed with a casual swagger, though his eyes missed nothing, while Wanda moved quietly, her presence steady but unreadable.

They cut through the streets until the station noise faded behind them, Budapest stretching in the golden haze of evening. The apartment block loomed soon enough — weathered brick, windows fogged with age, paint peeling on the stairwell door. Natasha’s stride slowed. She knew this place too well.

She stopped at the entrance and turned. Pietro leaned against the wall like he was waiting for the punchline of a joke. Wanda stood straight, gaze already locked upward, sensing the tension Natasha carried like armor.

“Whatever you hear in there,” Natasha said, voice clipped, “don’t intervene unless I call for you.”

Pietro smirked. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“My terms, remember?” Natasha cut him a glare sharp enough to silence him.

But Wanda didn’t flinch. Her eyes stayed on Natasha, steady and searching. Natasha held it a beat longer, then let out a short breath through her nose. “I’ll call if I need you. I promise.”

Wanda gave a small nod. Pietro muttered under his breath, but neither of the two followed as Natasha slipped inside the apartment complex alone.

The stairwell creaked under her boots. She moved like a shadow, slipping up the steps, ears tuned to every sound — pipes knocking, a door slamming somewhere below, the faint hum of traffic outside. The air smelled like old plaster, mildew, and dust. Like memory.

She reached the apartment door, her hand brushing the grip of her pistol before sliding it free. The weight was familiar, grounding.

The hinges groaned as she pushed the door open, slow and deliberate.

“I know you’re out there.”

The voice sliced through the stillness, sharp, edged with suspicion. Natasha’s muscles coiled tight, the barrel of her pistol swinging toward the sound.

“I know you know I’m out here,” she replied evenly, scanning the room, each corner cleared in practiced arcs.

“Then why are you skulking about like it’s a minefield?”

Because it was.

Natasha edged farther in, every instinct screaming for patience. “Because I don’t know if I can trust you.”

A bitter laugh. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing.”

Her eyes flicked across the living room doorway. Shadows shifted, light caught on blonde hair.

And then Yelena stepped into view.

They locked eyes, pistols raised, neither hand trembling.

“So, are we gonna talk like grown-ups?” Natasha asked.

“Is that what we are?” Yelena shot back.

The silence stretched thin. Natasha moved first, stepping forward, gun unwavering.

Yelena shifted back into the living room, pistol never lowering. She nodded at Natasha’s gun. “Put it down, before I make you.”

Natasha smirked in amusement before replying back, “You put yours down.”

Yelena’s boots caught on the edge of the rug, and she nearly slipped as Natasha backed her into the kitchen.

“Watch your step,” Natasha muttered teasingly.

Yelena smirked briefly before snapping her expression back to ice. Neither lowered their weapon.

Then, as if by unspoken agreement, they lunged.

Hands clashed, arms twisting, pistols wrenched away. Metal skittered across the floorboards, both women grappling for leverage. When they broke apart, Natasha found herself holding Yelena’s gun while Yelena leveled hers.

They stood, absurdly, in the same standoff — pointing the wrong weapons at each other.

Neither laughed.

Natasha surged first, slamming her shoulder into Yelena, wrenching the gun free, and sending it clattering aside.

And then the fight truly began.

Sharp, brutal, close-quarters combat. Yelena’s forearm slammed into Natasha’s chest; Natasha countered with a twist, shoving Yelena into the counter hard enough to break the cabinets. Their breaths came quick, boots scraping, fists cutting arcs through the air.

A blur of movement, fast and merciless. Natasha barely had time to register the shape of Yelena’s face before fists collided, arms locking. She shoved her into the counter, pain jolting through her ribs as Yelena’s knee drove upward. Natasha grunted, forced her back with a sharp slam of her palm against her throat.

“Stay down!” Natasha snarled repeatedly, pushing her against the counter.

Yelena didn’t. With a scream, Yelena reached for the nearest thing she could reach, she grabbed a plate from the sink and smashed it against Natasha’s head. Ceramic shattered, sharp shards skittering across the floor.

Natasha staggered back, vision ringing white, just in time for Yelena’s boot to slam into her stomach. She crashed out of the kitchen, gasping.

When her eyes cleared, Yelena was still at the kitchen sink, knife now glinting in her hand.

Natasha shook her head, weary. “Of course.”

“Don’t.” Natasha’s fingers twitched around and reached for the nearest thing beside her — a book binding stapler.

Yelena lunged.

Steel met steel. Knife against stapler, strike for strike. The clang echoed off the cramped walls. Yelena pressed forward, feral and precise, her strikes fueled by something Natasha knew too well. Natasha deflected, countered, twisted the knife hand away — but Yelena was relentless.

Yelena lunged with the knife, and with the sudden opening, Natasha quickly disarms her. Yelena didn't stop; she shoved Natasha against the wall.

Natasha ripped the curtain free with a sharp yank, looped it, and wrapped it around Yelena’s neck.

Victory lasted a breath.

The fabric whipped tight around Natasha’s throat, dragged with brutal force. Yelena mirrored her move, and suddenly they were both choking, tangled on the floor, knees driving into ribs, elbows striking bone.

The curtain cut into her windpipe. Natasha’s lungs burned slightly, vision blackening at the edges. She tightened her grip anyway, refusing to yield.

Natasha’s lungs screamed for air, but her eyes locked on Yelena’s — and in them, she saw it. The refusal. The absolute will. Yelena wasn’t going to stop. She’d rather choke to death before admitting defeat.

And in that heartbeat, Natasha realized she was winning. Realized she was hurting her. And it twisted something deep, something old and raw.

This wasn’t an enemy.

Her voice rasped, hoarse. “Enough… перемирие?” [Russian: Truce?]

The curtain stayed taut for a beat longer, then slackened.

They rolled apart, coughing, dragging fabric from their throats. Natasha sat up first, chest heaving, gaze fixed on the younger woman.

“Повзрослела,” Natasha muttered. [Russian: You’ve grown up.]

Yelena smirked faintly, still breathless. “Ещё бы.” [Russian: No shit.]

The silence stretched jaggedly.

And then Pietro’s voice broke it. “Fantastic. We ran across half of Europe, and I got front-row seats to a curtain wrestling. Worth every step.”

Natasha’s head whipped toward the door, glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Pietro only leaned lazily against the frame, grinning. “Really. Grenades, helicopters, government men with guns. For this.” He gestured vaguely at them, sprawled on the floor. “Bravo. Truly worth the trip.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes, but he smirked wider.

“Ever think about therapy? Might save on furniture bills,” he added.

Her glare deepened, but he only shrugged, smug satisfaction painted across his face.

Then Natasha glanced past him — and froze.

Wanda stood in the doorway, quiet as stone. Her eyes locked on Yelena, unblinking, her presence a sharp, a silent counterpoint to Pietro’s banter.

It was heavier than words, and Yelena shifted under the weight of it.

“Since when did you bring friends?” Yelena snapped suddenly, tone defensive.

“Since now,” Natasha answered without hesitation, voice flat, final.

She pushed herself to her feet, brushing plaster dust from her pants.

Her eyes flicked toward the counter, where a familiar padded case sat waiting. The vials inside caught the dying sunlight, red liquid alive and shifting.

Natasha opened the case in front of Yelena and nudged it towards her.

“What do they mean?” Natasha asked, low, deliberate.

Yelena didn’t answer at first. She moved to the cupboard, pulled down a half-empty vodka bottle, and poured herself a glass. She drank deep, exhaled, then poured three more.

She shoved them toward Natasha and the twins as she replied. “It’s a synthetic gas. The counteragent to chemical subjugation. The gas immunizes the brain’s neuropathways from external manipulation.”

Pietro grinned, snatched one, and downed it in a single gulp. “Not bad,” he coughed, smirking through the burn.

Wanda shook her head once, arms crossing tight, her gaze never leaving Yelena as she listened in.

Natasha ignored the glass left for her and looked at Yelena pointedly. “Maybe in English next time?”

“Это противоядие от контроля сознания.” Yelena smirks as she downed another shot. [Russian: It’s an antidote to mind control.]

Natasha sighed loudly as she tried not to roll her eyes. “Очень зрелое поведение.” [Russian: Real mature.]

Yelena looks at Pietro and Wanda with narrowed eyes before turning fully to Natasha. “Что? Теперь ты угождаешь своим западным друзьям?” [Russian: What? You cater to your western friends now?]

Natasha rolled her eyes and gave her a look. "Перестань, просто скажи." [Russian: Cut it out, just tell me.]

Wanda, with a raised eyebrow, then finally spoke. “Да ли ти ја личим на Американца?” [Serbian/Sokovian: Do I look like an American to you?]

Pietro then added with a smirk at Yelena’s surprised look. “Шта? Американац? Не знам да ли треба да се увредим или да ми буде драго.” [Serbian/Sokovian: What? American? I don't know if I should be offended or flattered.]

“Ја бих се увредио да сам на твом месту.” Wanda mirrored Pietro’s smirk as she replied. “Дакле, говорио си о противсредству за хемијско потчињавање?” [Serbian/Sokovian: I’d be offended if I were you.] [Serbian/Sokovian: So, you were talking about a chemical subjugation counteragent?]

For a moment, no one spoke between the for of them, and then Yelena barked out a laugh in amusement as she pointed at Pietro and Wanda. “I like you two.”

Natasha didn’t take her eyes off Yelena. “The Red Room’s still active. Where is it?”

“I have no idea. He moves location constantly. And every widow is sedated on entry and exit for maximum security.” Yelena shrugs as she moves around the counter and leans over it easily.

“I’m just finding it hard to believe he could stay off my radar.” Natasha insisted as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Yelena scoffed. “Well, it’s not smart to attack an Avenger if you want to stay hidden. The clue is in the name. Dreykov kills you, and one of the big ones comes to avenge you.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. What are the big ones?”

“Please.” Yelena leaned back against the counter. “THE big ones.” She stressed the word as if Natasha would get it by that.

“I don’t have time for games, Yelena.” Natasha rubbed her forehead as she tried to calm herself.

Yelena gave her a look and then continued. “Well, I doubt the god from space has to take an ibuprofen after a fight. And her—” She jerked her chin at Wanda. “The lady who fixed broken buildings within seconds after an evil robot destroyed them in South Korea and saved a city from drowning in Lagos. All without any casualties, mind you. Whole world saw that one. You don’t exactly slip under the radar when you’re moving tidal waves, tearing robots apart, and making miracles left and right.”

Wanda stiffened for a moment at Lagos, the word biting like glass, but Yelena’s dry delivery undercut the sting. She exhaled and let her lips curl, just a little.

“Tidal waves? That’s generous,” she said, tone wry. “Most of the time there I’m just trying not to let everyone drown. Myself included.”

Natasha glanced at her, catching the effort Wanda was making to soften the edge.

Pietro seized the opening. “You forgot about me. I was there too, you know.”

Yelena deadpanned, “Yes. The blur in the background.”

Pietro clutched his chest, mock-wounded. “Ouch. You wound me.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but her voice was warmer now. “Don’t listen to her, Pietro. You’re unforgettable… if only because you never stop talking.”

That drew the faintest laugh from Yelena, a twitch at the corner of her mouth, and Natasha—watching the three of them circle each other—felt the room shift. The tension hadn’t disappeared, but it had thinned enough to breathe.

“They’re a cure,” Yelena said finally, her voice suddenly became clipped.

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “A cure for what?”

“For us. For the Widows who don’t even know they’ve been slaves their entire lives. Not free. Never free. Until this.” Yelena tapped the case, fingers tight against it.

Natasha’s chest coiled. “You think this… fixes them?”

Yelena laughed, bitter and raw. “It breaks their leash. Dreykov’s leash. The chemicals, the control, the way he made sure every Widow belonged to him.”

Natasha froze, breath shallow. And here it is. Confirming what she’s dreading ever since she received the package.

Yelena’s eyes burned cold. “He’s still alive. Did you really think that you could kill him that easily?”

The words sank like a blade under her ribs. Natasha’s jaw locked, but inside, something cracked.

“The Red Room never died. You just burned one of its shadows.” Yelena finished her glass in one swallow. “Where did you think I was all this time?”

Natasha finally took a drink from the glass and replied. “I thought that you got out and were living a normal life.”

“And you just never made contact again?” Yelena pressed on.

Wanda stood close to Natasha as she spoke. “Honestly, I thought you didn’t wanna see me.”

Yelena scoffed as she let out a sarcastic laugh. “Bullshit. You just didn’t want your baby sister to tag along, whilst you saved the world with the cool kids. And while you were off playing Avenger, we were still in chains.”

For the first time, Natasha’s hand twitched against her thigh. Her voice stayed quiet. “Why did you send me the cure? And how did you send it to the Avengers compound anyway?”

“I have my ways,” Yelena smirked proudly as she replied.

Natasha gave her a look, stating she didn’t believe her at all.

“Fine.” Yelena rolls her eyes in faux annoyance before continuing. “Honestly, I sent it here first.” Yelena poured another shot for herself and offered Wanda a glass again as she spoke. “Then, when I realized you’re out West, I went here to take it back.” She shrugged when Wanda declined again. “When it wasn’t here, I figured you still had access to this place and took it.”

Natasha felt Wanda’s gaze shift between her and Yelena, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why tell me now?”

Yelena’s reply came after a beat, bitter. “Because you’re the only one who can do something about it. And because whether you like it or not,” her gaze flicked sharp, cutting, “you’re still family.”

The sudden resentment hit Natasha like shrapnel. She kept her face impassive, but it echoed in her chest, raw and unforgiving.

“And I guess, it’s because…” Yelena trailed off softly before she looked up and met her eyes without hesitation. “…you’re the only superhero I know.”

The words landed heavier than they should have. Natasha felt the weight settle between them, an ache pressing behind her ribs. She didn’t react right away, just studied Yelena’s expression — the sharpness in her eyes, the brittle layer of sarcasm masking something rawer beneath.

Pietro shifted, glancing between the sisters but staying silent for once. Wanda, too, held still, watching the way Natasha’s jaw tightened, like she was bracing against something she couldn’t quite name.

The silence stretched, heavy and unresolved.

Pietro is, of course, the first one to break the silence. He leaned forward on his elbows with a crooked grin. “Well, technically, you know two more superheroes now.”

He gestured loosely at himself, then at Wanda. “Pietro Maximoff. The fast one.”

Wanda gave him a faintly exasperated look but followed after a pause, her voice softer. “Wanda.”

Yelena’s eyes flicked between them, sharp and assessing, before landing back on Natasha as if affronted. “How rude,” she said dryly. “You didn’t even bother to introduce me to your friends.”

Natasha smirked faintly, the kind of expression that acknowledged the jab without offering anything more. Pietro caught it and let out a quiet chuckle. Wanda stayed silent, her gaze shifting between the two sisters, feeling the tension still lingering in the room

The vials glowed a dangerous, accusing red under the dim light. Natasha couldn’t tear her eyes from them.

Chemical control. No conditioning. No will of their own. Dreykov was alive. The building hadn’t buried him. It hadn’t freed anyone.

And now Yelena stood in front of her, proof of it. Proof that everything she thought she’d ended had been a lie.

And then the floor creaked. Too sharp. Too deliberate.

Natasha’s instincts surged. She motioned to Wanda and Pietro with a clipped hand gesture to stay low.

The ceiling suddenly shattered downward.

The first Widow dropped through the opening, mask glinting in the half-light. Then another. Then another. Their rifles snapped up in perfect unison.

“Move!” Natasha barked, already diving for cover as gunfire tore through the apartment.

Yelena vaulted over the counter, rolling low and firing back with practiced efficiency. Pietro blurred into motion, dragging Wanda behind an overturned table before a round could slice her arm.

Natasha snapped her batons alive, sparks crackling, and lunged at the first Widow. Her strike cracked across the woman’s ribs, but the Widow countered instantly, twisting Natasha’s arm into a lock. Natasha rolled with it, slamming her knee into the woman’s gut to break free.

Another surged forward. Pietro blurred past, wrenching the rifle from her hands with a sharp twist.

“Fast enough for you?” he quipped before vanishing again, a streak of silver across the room.

Wanda rose behind him, her hands glowing. A scarlet wave ripped through the air, sending two Widows crashing against the ceiling before slamming hard into the floor.

But more kept coming.

Natasha ducked a strike, pivoted, and slammed her baton across a jaw. Yelena covered her flank, brutal and efficient, the rhythm of their teamwork sliding into place like it had never broken.

Still, the apartment was collapsing into chaos. Bullets, fists, red light, the sound of glass shattering.

“Out. Out!” Natasha snapped, shoving Yelena toward the door.

“Oh, c’mon! You don’t need to push.” Yelena let out as she ran in front of her.

Pietro blurred again, disarming rifles as fast as they lifted. Wanda blasted open the side wall with a sweep of her wrist, debris exploding outward to clear their exit.

They spilled onto the narrow Budapest street, lungs burning, smoke clinging to their clothes.

For a moment, there was only silence, and then Taskmaster stepped into view.

Natasha froze. That mask. That silent precision. Every nerve in her body remembered the fight in the woods.

And she really doesn’t need this now.

The mimic tilted her head, studying her.

Natasha adjusted her stance, pulse hammering.

But Wanda moved first.

Her power lit the street crimson, swirling sharp and alive around her hands. Her voice cut the silence clean in half.

“Go away,” she said, calm, deadly. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

Taskmaster coiled, ready, but she didn’t get the chance.

With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, the mimic vanished. No blast. No spectacle. One heartbeat, she was there — the next, she was gone, torn from the street as if reality itself had rejected her.

Silence.

“Well, that was anti-climactic.” Yelena lowered her gun slowly, still staring at Wanda. “Where the hell did you send it?”

Wanda tilted her head casually, a smirk reminiscent of her brother making its way to her face. “Australia.”

Pietro let out a sharp laugh, bracing on his knees. “Hope she packed sunscreen.”

Natasha, however, didn’t laugh. She tightened her hold on the package, the vials inside clinking softly. Every instinct screamed that Dreykov’s reach was longer, crueler, than she’d ever feared.

And they didn’t have time to breathe.

Boots thundered against pavement. More Widows poured into the street, moving as one, their formation closing in like a net.

Wanda’s hands glowed, ready to strike. Pietro shifted, weight forward. Even Yelena, breathing hard, snapped a fresh magazine into her pistol.

But none of them moved. They looked at Natasha.

Wanda, because she had promised to follow Natasha’s lead.

Pietro, because she was their leader.

Yelena, because she was her sister.

Natasha’s grip tightened on the package. The vials. Their one chance.

“We use them,” she said quickly. “The antidote. If we can free even a few—”

Her words cut off.

One moment, the Widows were pressing, the next, they froze. Movements stilled mid-swing, as if strings had been cut.

Natasha recognized the vacant look in their eyes.

Too well.

“No,” Yelena whispered, the color draining from her face.

Natasha’s gut turned cold.

The Widows raised their arms in perfect unison and turned their gauntlets inward.

“No!” Natasha lunged forward, grabbing one by the arm. “Stop! What are you doing?!”

The woman’s eyes flickered, fear breaking through chemical obedience for just a second. “I don’t wanna do this.” Her lips trembled as she forced the words out. “He’s making me.”

And then she ripped her arm free and finished it herself.

One by one, they followed. Widow after Widow, gauntlets slamming against their own throats, bodies convulsing before collapsing to the ground. The street was filled with the sound of electricity and the sickening thud of falling bodies.

Natasha staggered back, the vial trembling in her hand. She couldn’t throw it. She couldn’t save them. Not from this.

The air stank of smoke and ozone. The silence after was suffocating.

Natasha stood frozen in place, her chest tight, the bile rising at the back of her throat.

She had seen death. She had caused it. But this — watching them kill themselves with no hesitation — was worse. This was Dreykov’s hand, reaching across continents, forcing them to die as puppets instead of live as women. Dreykov hadn’t just owned them. He had stolen their chance to be free.

Her fingers curled hard until her knuckles whitened. It wasn’t enough. Nothing she’d done had ever been enough.

Yelena stumbled forward, dropping her gun as her breath hitched. She stared at the bodies, wide-eyed, shaking her head. “Do you believe me now?" Her voice cracked.

Wanda didn’t speak. She stood stiff beside Pietro, her hands trembling faintly, eyes going vacant.

Natasha caught it — that haunted look. She’d seen it once before in a mirror. Wanda wasn’t just horrified. She was remembering.

Pietro was the only one who broke the silence, his voice sharp as he turned to Natasha. “What now?”

Natasha swallowed hard.

She didn’t answer immediately.

Because she didn’t know.

The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of Yelena’s ragged breaths.

And that was how the four of them stood.

Among the bodies, in a silence too loud, knowing Dreykov had just reminded them all exactly what kind of monster they were dealing with.

2016. Seventh Circle Prison, Russia

May

The prison rose out of the snow like a scar in the Russian Alps, slabs of gray stone and steel jutting into the white sky. Watchtowers swept searchlights over the yard, cutting across rows of prisoners trudging through routines. The sound of boots on frost-bitten concrete echoed even up here.

Natasha crouched at the open hatch, binoculars pressed to her face. The prison yard below was alive with noise. Prisoners shouting, guards pacing, chains clattering. And at the center of it all sat Alexei Shostakov, grinning through another arm-wrestling victory like he was holding court in a tavern. He slammed another man’s arm flat in an arm-wrestle, then bellowed for the next challenger. Laughing so loud it carried across the yard. Careless. Predictable.

“Of course he’s in the middle of everything,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

“Subtle as a bear in ballet shoes,” Yelena deadpanned from the cockpit. “Still a terrible idea by the way.”

“You say that about all my ideas.” Natasha clipped her harness to the hatch.

Wanda stood to her right, fingertips brushing the ground, her gaze unfocused as she extended her senses outward. “There are dozens of guards in the towers. More patrolling the walls. Inside—” her brow tightened “—hundreds. This place is crawling.” Her voice was calm, but her green eyes flicked to Natasha’s for half a second, grounding her.

“Sounds like a party,” Pietro grinned, leaning back with his usual arrogance. “And subtle. My specialty.”

Natasha’s eyes cut to him flatly. “Then pretend.”

He grinned, silver hair catching the sunlight. “No promises.”

Natasha lowered the binoculars, already calculating. “Yelena, you take the helicopter. Be ready to drop low when I give the signal. Wanda, keep the towers busy, you’re my eyes above. Pietro…” she exhaled sharply, “…you move when I say.”

Pietro mock-saluted. “Yes, boss.”

Natasha gave him a flat look before pulling the Red Guardian toy from her pack and handing it to him. “Give this to him.”

He smirked, tugging on the ill-fitting guard’s cap he’d swiped earlier. “Relax. I told you — subtle.”

And then he blurred away, gone in a rush of wind.

Of course.

Down below, Alexei was still boasting when a prison guard pushed through the crowd, tossing a Red Guardian toy onto the table.

Alexei blinked at it, frowning.

The guard looked up and for just a moment, silver hair flickered under his cap, a smirk tugging his mouth.

Natasha swore softly as she peeks through her binoculars. “Что за хрень…” [Russian: What the hell…]

The uniform collapsed empty into the snow as Pietro blurred away. Alexei pried the toy open, and a small comm device gleamed inside.

Static crackled, then Natasha’s voice filled his ear. “Alexei. Keep your head down. Move when I tell you.”

“Natashka!” Alexei whispered, trying to look casual as he slid the piece into his ear. “You came!”

“Don’t announce it to the whole yard,” Natasha snapped. “South wall. Now.”

He lumbered to his feet, muttering excuses, trying to shrink his massive frame as though that could make him inconspicuous. Natasha pressed her palm over her eyes.

“You’re walking like a parade float,” she growled in his ear. “Smaller steps.”

“I am a shadow. I am wind,” Alexei muttered cheerfully.

Natasha pinched her nose.

“He’s never going to make it,” Yelena muttered, maneuvering the chopper closer.

A gust stirred — Pietro reappeared, smug at Natasha’s side. “See? Subtle.”

She didn’t look at him. “We’ll talk about your definition later.”

Wanda’s voice came steady. “He’s fine. You forget he can phase through when he needs to.”

Natasha’s grip on the hatch eased, meeting Wanda’s calm green gaze. For a second, the knot in her chest loosened.

Yelena’s incredulous voice cut in. “Wait, he can phase through walls? That’s insane. He runs down there, and then what? He just flies back up?”

Wanda exhaled a soft laugh, fond and exasperated. “No. He doesn’t fly. I help him.” Scarlet tendrils slipped from her hand, humming in the air.

Yelena stared before muttering, “…Ridiculously useful.” Natasha caught the smirk on her face, and she couldn't help but smirk as well.

Movement below — Alexei hadn’t made it far before a guard stopped him, barking sharp orders. Alexei fumbled a lie, but the crackle of a baton dropped him hard.

“Damn it.” Natasha clipped her line. “We’re going in.”

She vaulted from the hatch, snow exploding beneath her boots, batons snapping into her hands.

From above, Yelena muttered, “Such a poser.”

Wanda braced at the hatch, scarlet light coiling in her hands. Yelena’s brow arched at Natasha’s landing.

“…Do all heroes do poses?” Yelena asked dryly.

A small laugh slipped from Wanda. “I don’t notice.” Her eyes lingered on Natasha’s fluid movements below, a smile tugging at her lips before she could stop it.

Yelena raised her eyebrows and smirked to herself.

Natasha then found Wanda at the corner of her eye, hovering above the prison as she dropped two guards in seconds. Pietro streaked past her to strip rifles, silver-blue flashing in the blur.

Pietro skidded to a stop at her side, grinning like the world wasn’t on fire. “What? You said to wait for the signal. The alarms sounded like a signal.”

Natasha shot him a look of annoyance, then shoved Alexei. “Move.”

She ripped Alexei’s chains free. He stretched, joints popping like a bear waking from hibernation. “Ah, freedom! Do you smell that? The air is sweeter already.”

“Move your ass!” Natasha yanked his arm, dragging him toward the wall.

Wanda hovered just beyond the prison yard, crimson power arcing from her hands, bending bullets away in sheets of light. Yelena swept in with the helicopter, rotors whipping up snow.

The towers erupted with fire. Wanda snarled and, with a flick of her wrist, the bullets turned into dust and vanished into the cold air. Pietro blurred through another squad, knocking them flat on their backs. Natasha ducked low, half-shoving Alexei forward.

“Up!” Yelena shouted from the open hatch. “Move your ass, Alexei!”

“Ах! Красный Страж жив!” he roared. [Russian: Ah! The Red Guardian lives!]

“Not for long if you don’t climb.”

Gunfire raked the yard, bullets shattering harmlessly against a scarlet dome. Above, Wanda’s power spread wide, shielding both them and the chopper.

Then came the rumble. The mountain groaned and snow sheared loose rapidly.

“Твою мать…” Natasha spat, shoving Alexei harder. [Russian: Damn it…]

Snow thundered down — and then a burst of scarlet flared.

Wanda dropped from the air in a streak of red tendrils of power trailing her. She landed in front of Natasha and Alexei, scarlet bursting around her boots. Knees bent, hands spread wide, she rose in perfect control.

The avalanche split cleanly against her will, veering harmlessly to either side. Wanda’s face didn’t even flicker. Her eyes glowed, scarlet burning through them, as if this wasn’t a strain at all.

Natasha caught herself staring mid-climb, chest heaving. For years, she had measured people by what they could endure, what they could force through sheer will. Wanda didn’t endure. She commanded. And she did it as if it were nothing.

Awe flickered through her — sharp, undeniable. Pride came with it, warming her ribs even as the snow roared past. And, just for a heartbeat, Natasha almost smirked. Of course, Wanda could part an avalanche.

Of course, she could.

From below, prisoners gaped as the walls of snow curved away, leaving them untouched inside Wanda’s reach. Guards fired uselessly at the dome, their bullets dissolving before they even touched the scarlet light.

Alexei twisted on the ladder, eyes wide as he bellowed, “Ведьма! Великолепно!” [Russian: Witch! Magnificent!]

The spell of Natasha’s awe shattered instantly. She snarled, grabbed the back of his collar, and shoved him upward. “Climb, you idiot!”

He grunted, half-laughing even as she forced him higher. Natasha followed hard on his heels, irritation burning away whatever softness had been there seconds before.

Above, Yelena’s voice came through the comms, teasing. “Really? Another superhero pose? You two rehearse these or something?”

Natasha shoved Alexei into the chopper, hair heavy with snow. “If it works, it works,” she shot back.

Yelena’s laugh rang warm. “Okay… I’ll give you that one.”

Wanda floated into the cabin last, scarlet tendrils fading from her hands, a faint smile tugging her lips. Natasha caught it — a smile just for her — and the chaos dimmed for a heartbeat.

Then Pietro smirked widely as he walked towards the cockpit. “For the record, I don’t even have a pose.”

Yelena glanced back at him with an arched brow. “You’re a blur. You don’t need one.”

Pietro sat in the co-pilot seat beside her smugly as if she’d handed him a compliment.

But Alexei wasn’t finished.

He lumbered back toward the open hatch, chest puffed out, eyes blazing like a man on parade.

“Красный Страж свободен!” he bellowed again, voice booming across the prison yard. [Russian: The Red Guardian is free!]

“Alexei—” Natasha snapped, but he leaned further out.

“Здесь лежит сила Родины! Никто не остановит Красного Стража! Прощайте, придурки!” [Russian: Here lies the strength of the Motherland! No one can stop the Red Guardian! Goodbye, douchebags!]

Natasha swore viciously, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him back inside. “Get in the damn helicopter!”

He only laughed, pounding his chest, then slammed the hatch shut as if he’d just scored a victory.

Yelena muttered, bone-dry, “So subtle.”

Natasha pressed her palm to her face, and Wanda leaned her head on her shoulder as she laughed quietly.

Pietro stretched out, smug, tossing her a glance. “And she says I’m the problem.”

WANDA

The helicopter cut through the icy skies, its engine a low growl against the wind. Snow still clung to boots and coats, dripping onto the metal floor in tiny rivulets. The smell of oil, steel, and cold air filled the cramped cabin.

Wanda sat beside Natasha, their hands laced together under the cover of Wanda’s coat. Pietro was in the co-pilot seat, tapping an impatient rhythm against the dashboard, while Yelena leaned forward at the controls, her shoulders rigid, eyes fixed ahead.

Behind them sprawled Alexei, wide as ever, his bulk nearly filling the bench seat. His chest heaved as if every breath was a victory.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you girls.” Alexei’s voice boomed.

The words sat heavily. Natasha’s jaw flexed. Wanda’s grip on her hand tightened, a silent grounding.

“Oh, you can’t hear me?” Alexei chuckled, scratching his beard as he gestured to the headset with another. “And the prison breakout — that was fun.”

The silence that followed was glacial. Pietro twisted slightly to give him a look; Wanda’s brows pinched, though she forced her power deep, Natasha’s hold steadying her.

Oblivious, Alexei leaned forward into the cockpit. “You did well, Yelenska, flying this thing. Strong girl.”

Yelena didn’t hesitate. Her fist cracked square into his jaw, snapping his head to the side.

"Ой!" He reeled back, groaning, hand to his face. “Okay, okay…” [Russian: Ouch!]

But a moment later, he was smirking again. “Why the aggression, huh? Is it your time of the month?”

Wanda stiffened, heat rising in her chest. She gripped Natasha’s hand so tightly her knuckles ached, scarlet pricking beneath her skin. Natasha’s jaw flexed, but she didn’t pull away.

“I don’t get my period, dipshit,” Yelena deadpanned. “I don’t have a uterus.”

“Or ovaries,” Natasha added casually.

Wanda turned to look at Natasha sharply, her face unreadable. She didn't say anything and just pressed herself closer.

“Yeah,” Yelena pressed on, unflinching as she maneuvered the chopper higher. “That’s what happens when the Red Room gives you an involuntary hysterectomy. They just go in, rip out all your reproductive organs, chop them all away." She made a chopping motion as she continued, "Everything out, so you can’t have babies.”

Alexei sputtered, thrown. “Okay, okay! You don’t have to get so clinical and nasty.”

“Oh, well, I was about to talk about fallopian tubes, but okay,” Yelena muttered, turning back to the controls.

Wanda’s magic spiked, cold and sharp, but Natasha squeezed her hand, steady, firm. It held the storm back.

Alexei glanced around at the three sets of glares fixed on him. Even Pietro gave him a dry shake of the head.

He let out a booming laugh that rang hollow in the silence. His eyes, sharp and curious now, slid toward Wanda and Pietro. “So. What is it with you two, huh? Serum? Experiments? Both?”

Wanda gave him a sharp look but didn’t reply.

Pietro rolled his eyes from the co-pilot seat as he answers. “Both.”

“Lucky you.” Alexei nodded as if what Pietro just told him is something normal. “What kind of serum?”

Alexei’s words made Wanda’s skin crawl.

Pietro twisted halfway in his seat, scowling at him as if that would be enough to make Alexei stop. “I don’t know,” he snapped. “We weren’t really told anything.” His jaw clenched, the words tasting bitter even now.

Alexei leaned in further, relentlessly oblivious. “There should be some variety of flavors or formulas that you took.”

The question hung in the air.

Wanda’s hand twitched in Natasha’s, her voice quiet but cutting, sharp enough to slice through the tension.

“HYDRA.”

The single word dropped like a blade. The cabin chilled instantly, colder than the wind screaming outside. Natasha’s gaze flicked toward Wanda, unreadable but fierce, her hand pressing firmer into Wanda’s thigh, grounding her.

“Fancy.” Alexei’s brows rose. Then, instead of shame or pity, he grinned. “Top shelf, huh?”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed, fury simmering, but Natasha’s fingers squeezed her hand again before the power could rise.

Alexei, oblivious, kept rambling. “Red Room, Hydra, KGB — everyone wanted their super soldiers, eh? You know…” He snapped his fingers, searching for the thread. “There was talk. A joint collaboration between the Red Room and HYDRA. Something about scientists doing something with the Winter Soldier’s brain-“

Strike one.

That was when Pietro twisted all the way around in his seat, eyes flashing silver-blue. “Say another word.”

Wanda’s magic prickled at her fingertips, controlled but cold, scarlet glinting faintly in her gaze. Her voice was low. “We dare you.”

The air inside the helicopter grew taut.

Natasha finally cut in, her tone dry as steel. “Before you two tear him apart, maybe let’s focus on where the Red Room is.”

Alexei blinked at her, genuinely puzzled. “What? I was only telling history. You don’t like history lessons?”

“No,” Natasha’s voice cut sharply. “You’re gonna tell us how to get to the Red Room.”

Alexei grinned, puffing his chest. “Oh, look at you, all business.”

“Trust me, this isn’t pleasure.”

“Little Natashka, indoctrinated into the Western agenda.”

Natasha’s chin tilted higher. “I chose to go west to become an Avenger. Because they treated me like family.”

“Really? Family?” Alexei pressed, voice smug. “Well, where are they now? Where is that family now?”

Strike two.

The words cut like glass. Wanda’s voice slipped out, quiet but sharp. “Right here.”

Alexei’s brows shot up, caught off guard.

Before she could lean forward, Natasha’s hand slid from Wanda’s grip to press firmly into her thigh, squeezing once.

Wanda’s pulse steadied reluctantly under her touch.

Natasha’s gaze sharpened. “Tell me where the Red Room is.”

“I have no idea,” Alexei scoffed in the mic before peeling off his headset and letting it clatter. “Okay?”

Natasha pulls off her headset in exasperation as she levels him with a look. “Come on. You and Dreykov were like—“

Then he puffed himself up, pride swelling. “General Dreykov, my friend! He gave me glory. Soviet Union’s first and only super soldier.” He thumped his chest with a fist, leaning forward like the cabin itself wasn’t big enough for his ego.

“I could have been more famous than Captain America. But instead? Ohio. Three years buried in suburbia. Then prison! Why? Maybe I insulted his haircut, maybe I told the Party to actually feel like a party. Who knows?” He scoffed as he kicked around like a child.

Alexei leaned back again, rubbing his jaw where Yelena had punched him, but the glint in his eyes was undimmed. “Bah. Dreykov wastes me. Locks me away while Captain America struts around like he invented heroism. Hah! You know I fought him once?”

Yelena’s brow arched. “In the ‘80s? Sure.”

Alexei waved her sarcasm away. “He feared me. Wouldn’t admit it, but he did. A super soldier.” He thumped his chest again. “Better than any of their western knockoffs.”

Pietro turned in his seat, deadpan. “So modest.”

Alexei’s grin widened as he ignored them, eyes glinting as he leaned back. “And I wasn’t even the one who killed Dreykov’s daughter. That was you, little Natashka. Efficient. Deadly. Proof that the Red Room trained you well.”

He said it with stupid, boastful pride, like it was another medal in his collection — blind to the way Natasha’s jaw snapped tight, her green eyes shuttering as she retreated behind an iron wall.

Wanda saw it. Saw the way Natasha withdrew, the way her silence turned from sharp to suffocating.

Strike three.

Scarlet stirred instantly in her veins, not in a flare but in a steady, lethal thrum. Her fingers twitched, her gaze narrowing on Alexei, and for a breath, the air itself seemed to still around her.

Her power pressed at the edges, cold and precise, begging release.

Maybe Natasha won’t miss this stupid pretend father of hers so much.  She can probably just pick the information they need from his brain and be done with it.

“Watch your mouth,” Wanda let out, her voice low and shaking with fury, eyes slowly turning red.

The air in the cabin thickened, the hum of the rotors nearly drowned out by the faint vibration of her power. Pietro shot a glance back over his shoulder, tense.

Natasha’s hand tightened on her thigh, grounding, warning. “Don’t,” she murmured under her breath, not looking at her.

Wanda held it there. The power burning just beneath her skin, controlled, contained, but terrifyingly close. Not for Alexei’s sake. For Natasha’s.

Alexei, oblivious, chuckled like nothing was wrong. “What? It is a proud moment, eh? A strike Dreykov never saw coming.”

"Great." From the cockpit, Yelena snorted, voice dripping with dark sarcasm. “Ну что, можем теперь выбросить его в окно?" [Russian: So, can we throw him out the window now?]

“I think we should wait till we get to a higher altitude,” Natasha deadpanned, her voice flat as she rubbed her thumb over Wanda’s thigh to calm her.

Yelena gave the faintest huff of amusement and turned back to the controls.

Alexei rubbed his jaw, shaking his head like they were all unreasonable. Then, with a careless shrug, he added. “Почему бы не спросить у мамы, у Мелины, где это?” [Russian: Why not ask your mother, Melina, where it is?”

Natasha’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. Yelena twisted in her seat, her voice sharp and incredulous as she switched back to English. “Wait. Mom Melina?”

Natasha’s voice cut like a blade. “We thought she was dead.”

“You cannot kill a fox that swift,” Alexei replied smugly.

“Ew,” Natasha muttered, lip curling.

“What?” Alexei blinked at her, confused. “She was the strategist. The scientist,” he went on, shrugging. “I was the muscle. She worked directly for Dreykov, far more than I ever did. Still does. Outside St. Petersburg.”

Yelena’s grip on the stick tightened. “Uh, we don’t have enough fuel for St. Petersburg.”

Alexei waved it off. “We’ll make it.”

Yelena shot him a flat look. “Sure. And when we drop out of the sky, you can flap your arms to keep us in the air.”

Wanda sighed softly, raising her hand. Scarlet tendrils flickered faintly, subtle in the cabin light, and the fuel gauge began to tick upward steadily.

Yelena’s eyes flicked to the dash, then to Wanda, and for the first time her mouth twitched into a reluctant smirk. “Useful.”

Alexei leaned forward, grin wide, raising a hand as if to clap Wanda on the shoulder, only to freeze when her head turned sharply, red flickering in her eyes.

Her voice was low, cold, the Russian crisp and cutting. “Не смей ко мне прикасаться.” [Russian: “Don’t you dare touch me.”]

The words slid like a knife through the cramped cabin, silencing even the hum of the rotors for a breath.

Alexei faltered, blinking at her, and muttered as he finally stayed put and sat quietly. ”Вот так со старым героем… Даже прикоснуться нельзя.” [Russian: So that’s how you treat an old hero… can’t even touch you.”]

Natasha’s eyes cut sideways, catching the way Wanda’s shoulders were still rigid, and more than that, the Russian. Sharp, fluent, unhesitating. She didn’t say anything at first, only let her thumb brush against Wanda’s hand, deliberate.

I heard you.

Wanda stiffened, realizing instantly. Her gaze flicked to Natasha’s, green locking onto green. For half a second, it felt like Natasha was reading her too closely, piecing together threads Wanda hadn’t meant to show. Heat rose in her chest, not from her power this time, but from being seen.

She looked away quickly, fingers tightening in Natasha’s grip as if to cover the slip.

Natasha leaned the slightest bit closer, her voice pitched low. “Your Russian’s not bad.”

Wanda blinked, startled. She glanced back at her, half-expecting judgment, but Natasha’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk.

Wanda huffed softly, a mix between a laugh and a sigh. “Thanks,” she murmured, trying to sound casual.

Natasha turned forward again, smugness hidden under her calm, but Wanda caught it and felt her chest burn all over again.

2016. St. Petersburg

May

The helicopter rattled as Yelena guided it down, the endless stretch of green fields breaking into a patchwork of farmland. It was almost jarring — after the chaos of the breakout, the world here looked untouched, quiet, alive.

The second they touched down, Alexei lumbered out, his heavy boots sinking into the grass. He stretched with a groan, one hand planted firmly on his waist as if he were some conquering hero surveying his domain. His grin split wide, careless and loud.

“You should’ve brought the Avengers’ superjet!” he boomed, his voice carrying across the clearing.

“I swear,” Yelena muttered as she yanked off her headset, eyes narrowing, “if I hear one more word from him, I will kick him in the face.”

Natasha, climbing out beside Wanda, muttered under her breath, “He’s the worst.”

Wanda smirked faintly, but her eyes stayed on Natasha, watching the tight line of her jaw and the way she moved like she was already exhausted by Alexei’s presence.

“Natasha. Natasha. Natasha!” Alexei called, striding closer with arms now open, broad and insistent. “Come here, I want to ask you something. Come, it’s important.”

Natasha’s expression soured. “What?”

“Did he talk to you about me?”

“…What?”

“Did he talk to you about me? You know, trading war stories?”

“Who?” Natasha asked flatly. “What are you talking about?”

“Captain America,” Alexei puffed his chest, proud as ever. “My great adversary in this theater of geopolitical conflict. Not so much a nemesis. More like a contemporary, you know? Coequal. I always thought there was a great deal of mutual respect—”

Natasha cut him off, her tone sharp. “Wait. You haven’t seen either one of us in twenty years, and you’re gonna ask me about you?”

Alexei blinked at her, as though the words didn’t land. “What is with this tension? Did I do something wrong?”

“Is that a serious question?” Yelena shot back, flat and biting.

Alexei lifted his hands, voice turning softer in a way he thought was paternal. “I only ever loved you girls. I did my best to make sure you would succeed, to achieve your fullest potential, and everything worked out.”

“Everything worked out?” Natasha’s voice was dangerous.

“Yes. For you, yes,” Alexei went on, massive arms suddenly stretching wide before clamping around both Natasha and Yelena, hauling them in like he’d just won some grand prize. “We accomplished our mission in Ohio.”

Wanda stiffened, her stomach twisting as she saw Natasha’s body go rigid, her head tilting ever so slightly like she was calculating whether to break his grip now or let him ramble.

“Yelena, you went on to become the greatest child assassin the world has ever known. No one can match your efficiency, your ruthlessness.” He jostled Yelena at his side, oblivious to her glare.

“And Natasha—” his arm tightened, voice booming with pride, “not just a spy, not just toppling regimes, destroying empires from within, but an Avenger.”

Wanda’s eyes darted to Natasha’s face. For a split second, the mask cracked. Revulsion, pain, something deeper flashed in her expression before she caught herself.

“You both have killed so many people,” Alexei finished, beaming, “your ledgers must be dripping, just gushing red. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

And for a second, nobody spoke or reacted. Too stunned by his insensitive words.

Natasha scoffed, furious, and shoved him off so hard he stumbled back a step.

Yelena slipped out of his grip, muttering with disdain, “You smell really bad.”

Wanda’s chest tightened. Natasha’s mask had cracked — she saw the hurt in her eyes before Natasha forced it back down again. Wanda’s fingers twitched with power, rage bubbling in her veins, but she shoved it deep. Natasha didn’t need her lashing out. She needed her steady.

Natasha stormed a few paces ahead, boots crunching over the gravel path toward the farmhouse. Wanda followed without hesitation, brushing her hand against Natasha’s — and Natasha, after a beat, gripped it tight in return.

Behind them, Alexei’s voice carried on obliviously. “You walk like Americans now. Heavy feet, no subtlety.”

“That’s rich,” Pietro quipped, sliding neatly between Alexei and Yelena. “Coming from a man who stomps like a tank. No wonder they locked you up just to get some peace and quiet.”

Yelena’s lips twitched. “If someone doesn’t shut him up soon, I’ll do it myself.”

“I’ll race you for it,” Pietro smirked, glancing her way.

Alexei either didn’t hear or didn’t care. “You should be grateful. I taught you girls strength. Discipline.”

“Mm-hm,” Yelena muttered. “And now I need therapy.”

Pietro laughed, clapping her shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry, Yelena. Between the two of us, we’ll drown him out.”

For the first time since landing, Yelena smirked, a dry snort breaking free just enough to dull the sharp edges of Alexei’s oblivious pride.

Wanda’s faint smile faded as she suddenly froze. Her breath hitched, her neck craning sharply toward the farmhouse. Her eyes narrowed, locking on a glint of glass from one of the upper windows. Someone had a rifle trained on them.

“Sniper,” Wanda murmured low, just for Natasha. “Someone's watching us.”

Yelena muttered a sharp curse, eyes cutting instinctively to the treeline, though she saw nothing. Her hand twitched like she wanted to draw a weapon, but she forced it still.

Pietro froze, silver-green eyes darting to his sister. “Wanda?” he pressed urgently.

Wanda didn’t answer. She stood impossibly still, face tilted toward the house. Scarlet flickered faintly in her irises, restrained but present, as if the entire world had sharpened around her. She didn’t just see the sniper. She felt the intent behind the scope in succession — cold, deliberate, unblinking, confusion, and then curiosity.

That made Wanda stop short.

From her side, Natasha noticed. Not the sniper, but Wanda. The rigid stillness, the sharp focus, the faint ripple of power that always made the air hum when Wanda teetered on the edge of letting go. Natasha’s chest tightened, not with fear but recognition.

Scarlet pulsed once, then stilled. Wanda’s gaze stayed locked forward until the intent faltered and pulled away.

Only then did she breathe.

Natasha pressed her fingers into Wanda’s, grounding her with deliberate weight.

Alexei, oblivious, chuckled and gestured toward the farmhouse. “А, это, наверное, Мелина.” [Russian: Ah, that’s probably Melina,]

Yelena muttered another curse. Pietro shook his head, though his eyes lingered on Wanda with something sharper, almost protective.

Natasha’s voice came quietly, low enough for Wanda. “Stay close.”

Wanda nodded faintly, her hand still bound with Natasha’s.

Wanda gave the faintest nod, but her gaze lingered on the farmhouse, her chest tight with the echo of being seen. She turned slightly, eyes catching Pietro’s across the path. He tilted his head, already reading her without words.

In the next breath, he was gone — a blur of silver darting across the fields, slipping through fence lines, vanishing into the tree line beyond the farmhouse.

Natasha’s head whipped toward her, startled. “What was that?”

“I asked him to check the farm,” Wanda said simply. Her tone was steady, but her grip in Natasha’s hand was still tight. “All of it.”

Alexei grumbled, hand going to his waist as he stretched. “Bah. You should trust Melina. She would never harm us.”

“Right,” Yelena muttered dryly, glaring at him. “Because she’s just a beacon of warmth and loyalty.”

Pietro returned a few seconds later, stopping in front of them, breathing easy despite the run. “Whole perimeter’s quiet,” he reported. “No men, no traps. Just one very watchful woman and her pigs.” His smirk tilted. “Your Melina.”

Natasha’s jaw flexed, but she only nodded once.

Wanda let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. 

Natasha caught the exchange. She gave Pietro the barest nod of acknowledgment before her attention returned to Wanda. Her grip shifted once more on Wanda’s hand, firmer this time, not letting go.

Chapter Text

2016. Melina's Farm

May

WANDA

The pigs unsettled her before anything else.

They moved strangely in the pen beside Melina’s farmhouse, sluggish and shallow in their breaths, eyes too vacant.

Wanda slowed without meaning to, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. Her skin prickled, not with the familiar hum of magic, but with a cold, wrong feeling that seeped deep into her bones. For a second, she panicked, and then she focused, searching for the crimson threads of her power, but found nothing.

Just a dead, unnatural silence wound so tight it made her nerves shoot up.

For half a heartbeat, it reminded her of Westview. Of neighbors smiling because she willed them to.

It made her falter in her step.

“Hey,” Pietro muttered, nudging her shoulder. “You ok?”

His stare felt like a weight, and for a second, Wanda met his gaze, his face a distant blur. She then looked at the pig sty again and found the pigs gone. Wanda blinked again to clear her mind, her eyes seeking out Natasha.

"Yeah, I'm good," she managed, the words a thin, shaky line. She drew in a breath that felt like sand and willed her legs to move, determined to leave the moment behind her.

Inside, the house smelled of polished, ancient wood and something sharp and sterile, like a dusty old book in a doctor's office. The two scents fought in the air, a clash of cozy and cold that made the place feel unnatural and unsettling.

Melina's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Welcome to my humble abode." The words were like an old, tired script she'd memorized long ago. She gestured to the room with a flick of her wrist. "Make yourself at home. Let's have a drink." Her voice was a low monotone, drained of any real enthusiasm.

"Hey. No funny business," Natasha snapped, her eyes tracking every one of Melina's movements.

Melina simply raised her hands in a slow, deliberate gesture. "I am putting away my weapon." She pressed a hidden latch, and with a soft pneumatic hiss, a wall panel slid back.

It revealed an arsenal so meticulously arranged it looked less like a collection of tools and more like a work of art. Melina slotted the sniper rifle, its sleek metal still warm, into a perfectly shaped cradle, the same rifle Wanda had felt earlier.

Wanda’s breath caught. For a second, Wanda thought something that unsettled her even more. She could pry at Melina’s mind—strip away whatever lay beneath that calm. But the impulse was cut off by a single thought from Natasha, her request from before holding her back. Wanda let out a sharp breath and looked towards Pietro and Yelena before looking back at Natasha.

Maybe this place is affecting her just as much.

Focusing instead on Natasha, Wanda took in the sight of her. Shoulders held in a tense line, the hard set of her jaw. In that shared, silent resolve, a tight coil in Wanda's chest finally loosened.

Natasha's gaze was sweeping the room, methodical and cold, before she spoke. "Are there any booby traps around here? Anything we need to know about?"

Melina walked towards the dining table as she set the food, not bothering to look up. "I didn't raise my girls to fall in traps," she said, her voice a flat, deadpan hum.

Natasha's eyes snapped to hers. "You didn't raise us at all," she replied calmly but the words landed sharply.

Melina met her gaze, she gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "Oh, maybe so," she said with a chilling softness as she glanced at Wanda shortly before looking back at Natasha. "But if you got soft, it wasn't on my watch."

The tense silence at the dinner table was shattered by the heavy tread of combat boots. Alexei strode into the room, filling the space with his presence and the worn, crimson bulk of his Red Guardian suit. The material strained across his broad chest as he threw his arms out wide, a theatrical grin splitting his face.

"Still fits!" he boomed, gesturing to himself as if to a live audience. "Don't you think?"

Melina watched him, her face impassive for a moment, and then, with a dry smirk, she put her lips together and let out a long, theatrical wolf whistle. It was a sound entirely out of place in the room, a mocking salute to his vanity.

Yelena buried her face in her hands, a low groan escaping her lips. "Oh, my God," she muttered, the words thick with pure exasperation.

A low chuckle escaped Melina's lips while Alexei, completely oblivious to the irony, threw his head back and let out a booming laugh that filled the room.

"I never washed it once," Melina said, her voice a flat hum with a hint of sarcasm. She turned back to the table with a sharp, fluid motion and poured a clear stream of vodka into a glass. "Come and drink."

A loud sloshing sound drew their attention to Alexei, who raised his own glass with a flourish. "Family back together again," he sang, his voice a booming, off-key mess.

He then tipped the glass toward Wanda and Pietro, his eyes gleaming with a manic joy. "And with visitors this time, да?" [Russian: Yes?]

Family.

The word felt like a hollow prop on a stage. The sentiment didn't fit the sterile air, the cold metal, or the unsettling calm in the room. The sentiment sat like a stone in Wanda's gut, a heavy, indigestible lie.

She looked up, and across the table, she saw Yelena. Her shoulders were stiff, her face a mask of practiced indifference. When Wanda glanced at Natasha beside her, she saw the exact same expression—a cold, steely control, the face they both wore when facing an enemy. The sight confirmed everything Wanda had felt; this was a performance, not a reunion. It was all a show, a well-rehearsed charade.

She turned to her twin, and the tight coil of dread in her chest loosened just a fraction. Pietro’s fingers drummed a frantic, desperate rhythm against the table, the sound a brittle anchor in the dead quiet of the room. Unlike the others, his discomfort was a genuine, raw sound that broke through the illusion.

Melina’s voice cut through the air, calm and unsettlingly matter-of-fact. “Seeing as our family construct was just a calculated ruse that only lasted three years,” she said, her expression unchanging as she casually passed a basket of bread to Alexei. “I don’t think we can use that term anymore, can we?”

Wanda reached for Natasha under the table and hovered over her thigh as if asking for permission to hold her, without thinking, Natasha scooted close and let her.

“Agreed.” Natasha let out in urgency. Her shoulders were rigid, her jaw held tight as she looked at Melina. Wanda’s gaze flickered and she saw Yelena flinch, a sharp, involuntary tremor that was gone in an instant.

Natasha continued, oblivious to the wound her words had inflicted, “So here's what's going to happen—”

Alexei interrupted, leaning across the table with a jarring physicality to grab a piece of bread. He wore a grin that was all teeth.

“Okay. A reunion then, huh?” He chewed for a moment before looking at Melina, his eyes twinkling with a desperate cheerfulness. “And, uh… I want to say something right off the bat. You haven’t aged a day, huh? You’re just as beautiful and as supple as the day they staged our marriage.”

Wanda looked at Alexei for a second lips curling up in disgust before turning to Pietro. His expression the same as hers.

“You got fat,” Melina said, her voice a dry counterpoint to his rambling. She eyed him coolly, then added without a hint of irony, “But still good.”

Alexei let out a short, nervous chuckle, rubbing his hands together in a display of restless energy. "I just got out of prison," he said, his voice dropping to an awkward mumble. "I, uh… I have a lot of energy."

Melina simply watched him, her face finally showing some emotion. She gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Oh, really?"

Wanda’s brow tightened, instinctively wary of Alexei’s flippant tone when the air was already strung taut. She turned back to Pietro and found his gaze already on her, the same unimpressed flatness in his eyes that sat in hers. No words were needed; she felt the thought as if it had passed between them.

It is absurd and ridiculous.

When they looked back at Alexei, their disbelief was perfectly mirrored. The unison of it made Pietro huff under his breath, and Wanda almost smiled despite herself.

Really? This man?

Wanda caught Yelena’s glance, sharp and uneasy, before it slid toward Natasha. Natasha’s eyes flicked to her next, reading what had passed in silence. For a second, Wanda felt the four of them caught in a quiet exchange, like a web strung between looks. Yelena’s flinch, Natasha’s warning, Pietro’s half-laugh, her own restraint.

Then Natasha straightened, leaned on the table, and the moment was gone.

“Please don’t,” Natasha groaned, leaning forward. “So, here’s what’s going to happen—”

Melina cut in as she scooped up a portion of salad onto her plate. “Natasha, don’t slouch.”

Natasha’s head snapped around. “I’m not slouching.” Her spine still straightened on reflex.

“Yes, you are,” Melina replied as she scooped up another portion.

“I don’t slouch.”

“You’ll have a hump by forty,” Melina replied, as if she were reciting a medical fact.

Alexei chuckled loud and proud, leaning in with his mouth full. “Listen to your mother.”

Natasha sighed. “Oh my God—”

“Up, up!” Alexei barked, puffing his chest as an example with ridiculous cheer.

Natasha drew a sharp breath, hands balling into fists against her knees. Under the table, Wanda’s hand squeezed her thigh and rubbed her thumb to soothe her, keeping her steady and grounded. She calmed down and sighed before giving Melina and Alexei a hard look.

Pietro caught the gesture, lips twitching, and leaned toward Yelena with a muttered quip. “That’s already more domestic than those two ever managed.”

Yelena snorted, shooting him a look as she raised her glass. “Don’t drag me into this.” She downed the shot anyway and muttered in reply to Pietro. “But yeah, I kinda agree with you.”

Wanda ignored them and just continued rubbing her thumb on Natasha’s thigh.

Natasha’s patience frayed to a razor’s edge. “That’s it. Enough. All of you.”

Yelena set the empty glass down with a heavy look. “I didn’t even say anything. That's not fair.”

Natasha tried again. “So here’s what’s going to happen—”

“I don’t want any food,” Yelena said suddenly, as Melina insisted on giving her a portion.

“Eat a little something, Yelena, for God’s sake,” Melina scolded.

That did it. Natasha threw her hands up, groaning. “Oh my God, can I get through one sentence without being interrupted?”

Wanda’s hand pressed firmly against her thigh, grounding her. Her gaze slid to Alexei and Melina, sharp, daring them to keep talking over Natasha. “Let her finish,” she said quietly, voice edged enough to still the table.

The words hit like a blade laid flat on the table. Melina’s lips pressed together, a flicker of hesitation passing across her face. Even Alexei, mid-chew, stilled for a beat before forcing down the rest of his grin.

Natasha exhaled hard, tension slipping from her shoulders, and fixed her eyes on Melina. “You’re gonna tell us the location of the Red Room.”

Melina snorted as if amused, scooping another portion for Yelena. “You know, it’s like when you told them they could stay up late to catch Santa Claus.”

Wanda felt her jaw tighten. Natasha’s demand had been brushed aside as though it hadn’t been spoken at all.

Alexei’s face lit with theatrical delight. “What? That was fun. He comes down the chimney, girls. Look out! Where is he? You wait for him, and when the cookies are gone, then you know he’s there.”

He looked around the table proudly, expecting approval, even turning to Wanda and Pietro as if they might share his joy. Pietro rolls his eyes as Wanda frowns back, unimpressed, her annoyance simmering hotter with each glance past Natasha.

Melina shook her head in disagreement. “No, no good.”

Alexei gave a grand, sweeping gesture. "Reach for the stars, girls."

Natasha’s voice was a cold, sharp cut that sliced through the lingering absurdity. "Finding Dreykov is not a fantasy. It’s unfinished business."

Melina met her gaze with a small, unamused smile. "You can’t defeat a man who commands the very will of others. You never saw the culmination of what we started in America." She turned to Alexei and nodded at him, "Nor did you."

That was enough; her annoyance sharpened into something colder. Wanda fixed her with a stare that didn’t waver. The words disturbed her—commanding the will of others—but worse was how easily Natasha’s determination had been brushed aside.

She then felt Natasha took hold of her hand in her thigh and squeezed it once.

Melina let her gaze drift calmly around the table before standing, as though Wanda’s silence had never touched her. She crossed to a nearby counter and retrieved a tablet, flicking it on with clinical ease.

Alexei obliviously leaned forward and offered Natasha a wide, earnest smile. "Natasha, always focus, focus. Get what you want."

Melina returned to the table after a moment with a tablet in hand. She sat down without a word and tapped the screen.

"Come in."

A loud, insistent beeping suddenly filled the tense silence.

With a soft pneumatic hiss, the door slid open. The sound of a loud, wet snort filled the doorway. A large, well-fed pig stood there, looking at them. It trotted obediently from the doorway and sat beside Melina.

The instant it crossed the threshold, Wanda felt it. The same faint hum from the sty, thrumming under skin like a leash.

She didn’t imagine it. But it’s not magic.

Not hers.

But here it is. Control buried in its body.

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Did that pig just open the door?"

“Yes, it did. Good boy, Alexei,” Melina said mildly, dropping a treat into the pig’s mouth. “Good boy.”

Alexei blinked at her and stopped mid-chew. “You named a pig after me?”

Melina’s lips curved faintly. “You don’t see the resemblance? Look—he sits just like a dog. Amazing.” She tapped the tablet again. “Now, watch.”

Alexei shifted uneasily, muttering, “It’s a little weird to me.”

Melina ignored him and didn’t look up. Her voice was calm and clinical. “Stop breathing.”

The animal froze, chest locking, wet sounds scraping from its throat.

Melina looked around and nodded at each of them as if proud of the demonstration.

“What are you doing?” Wanda half-rose in her seat, but Natasha’s sudden hold on her hand stopped her.

“In Ohio, we infiltrated a front for SHIELD scientists—HYDRA at that time.” Melina’s voice turned clinical, detached. “In conjunction with the Winter Soldier project, they deconstructed the human brain to map the basal ganglia.”

Wanda felt Pietro’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t meet them. Her gaze stayed fixed on the pig, heaving soundlessly, lungs refusing to draw air.

Melina looked at Alexei, who looked confused as if not understanding what she was saying.

“It was the hub for cognition. Voluntary motor movement, procedural learning.” She explained to him before looking at the others in the room. “We didn’t steal weaponry or technology. We stole the key to unlocking free will.”

The pig’s convulsions clawed under Wanda’s ribs. Its throat rasped wetly, lungs locked tight, every shuddering heave a sound she had heard before—people gasping against their will.

The shadows of Westview pressed in, close and suffocating.

Stop it, stop it, stop it. 

Voices whispered in her head, the chorus of neighbors she had bound, their eyes blank, their mouths pleading.

Her chest cinched in answer. Shame seared hot, settling in her bones.

She’s no different, she thought. Not better than Melina. Not better than Dreykov.

She is a monster, too. No matter what she did, it would always stick.

Her breath caught, unsteady. The edges of the room wavered, blurring as though her own control was slipping. The hum inside the pig’s body felt like it was inside hers too—like she was the one choking, the command digging into her lungs, denying her air.

She pressed her nails hard into her palm, desperate for sensation, for proof that she still belonged in her own skin. But the conviction gnawed anyway.

She had done this. She had stolen choice. She had bent will. She had stood exactly where Melina stood now.

“Okay, you made your point,” Natasha snapped. “That’s enough!”

“Stop!” Pietro’s voice cut sharply across the table as Wanda’s vision blurred, her surroundings bleeding out of focus.

She blinked hard—and then found Yelena staring at her. No, not at her, but through her, the same haunted look she had seen in Westview reflected in Yelena’s eyes.

“Yes, all right.” Melina tapped the tablet unhurriedly.

The pig collapsed to the floor, convulsing, gasping for air.

“Don’t worry. Alexei could’ve survived eleven more seconds without oxygen. Good boy. Now go back home.” She waved it away, then continued with unnerving calm. “The world functions on a higher level when it is controlled. Dreykov has chemically subjugated agents across the globe.”

A fork clattered against the table. Yelena’s hand had gone slack, her eyes fixed past them, blank and far away.

Silence dropped heavily. Only the pig’s ragged breaths and the steady tick of a clock filled it.

“Боже мой” Alexei chuckled, breaking it. “It is just a pig. Don’t be dramatic. Perfect science, beautiful work, Melina. Even animals follow orders better than politicians.” [Russian: My God.]

Wanda’s stomach twisted. Natasha’s glare could have cut steel. Yelena’s jaw locked, teeth clenched hard enough to ache.

Yelena’s voice cut through the silence, low and heavy, dread threaded into every word. “And do you know who they test it on?”

Melina tilted her head, unbothered. “Hmm… no. That’s not my department.”

Alexei leaned forward, almost sing-song. “Ah, come on, come on. Don’t lie to them, hmm?”

Melina’s eyes flicked toward him as she poured a drink for herself. “I’m not lying.”

“You’re Dreykov’s architect, huh?” Alexei pressed.

Melina’s tone hardened. “What were you? If I were his architect, you were his partner. You were his business partner.”

Alexei slammed his palm against the table with a crash. “No, no, no. I was patsy!”

Melina’s voice snapped back as she reached for her glass to keep it stable. “Don’t give me that—”

“He sold me ideology!” Alexei shot back, voice cracking with a mixture of anger and wounded pride.

“Stop with the politics,” Melina bit out and knocked back her drink.

“All the while, bigger—”

“Shut up!” Natasha’s voice cut through, fierce and final. Her words lashed like a whip. “You are an idiot.” She pointed at Alexei before turning to Melina, “And you’re a coward. You’re a coward. And our family was never real, so there’s nothing to hold on to. We’re moving on.”

The words rang in Wanda’s ears, but she wasn’t really hearing them. Her eyes stayed locked on the door where the pig had disappeared, the echo of its strangled convulsions still clawing at her chest.

Beside her, Pietro hadn’t joined the shouting. His voice was low, careful. “Wanda… are you okay?”

Wanda didn’t answer.

Alexei spread his hands, voice taking on that earnest, almost theatrical note. “Never family, huh? In my heart, I am a simple man. And I think… for a couple of deep undercover Russian agents, we did pretty great as parents, huh?

Melina agreed and continued as if nothing was wrong. “Yes, we had our orders, and we played our roles to perfection.”

“Who cares?” Natasha shot back, her tone sharp and unflinching. “That wasn’t real.”

Yelena’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

“It wasn’t real,” Natasha repeated, colder this time, frustration and anger getting the better of her. “Who cares?”

“Don’t say that.” Yelena’s voice cracked, trembling between fury and heartbreak. “Please don’t say that. It was real. It was real to me.” She twisted on her seat and faced Melina, “You were my mother. You were my real mother. The closest thing I ever had to one.” 

Wanda’s chest tightened at the words.

She knew that sting too well. The brutal dismissal, the way it hollowed you out when someone told you that the people you loved most weren’t real.

Your children were never real. They don’t exist. They were illusions.

She had heard it until it gnawed at her bones, until the truth blurred. And like Yelena now, she had clung to her insistence. It didn’t matter what anyone else said. If you felt it, if you lived it, then it was real.

Yelena exhaled hard, as if forcing the truth from her body. “The best part of my life was fake, and none of you told me.”

Wanda watched as Yelena’s hand came down on the table in a muted thud, not loud but final. “And those agents you chemically subjugated around the globe? That was me.” Her voice broke on the word, bitter and raw. “Mmm. And you—” she cut a glance toward Natasha “—you got out. Dreykov made sure no one else could escape.”

Wanda’s breath stuttered. The words sank into her like glass, scraping against memories of her own choices, her own sins. Without realizing it, her hand slipped from Natasha’s thigh, the grounding touch faltering, pulling back as shame and recognition clawed through her.

Natasha felt the loss of it, sharp as a crack. She glanced first at Wanda—saw the shadows in her eyes—and then at Yelena, trembling with rage and grief. And in that heartbeat, she realized they were both carrying the same wound, different scars carved by the same hand.

“Are you gonna say anything?” Yelena demanded, her jaw tight, lips trembling.

Silence pressed down like a weight.

She shook her head sharply before Natasha could move.  “No. Don’t touch me.” She pushed back from the table and stormed out, the echo of her footsteps carrying down the hall.

“Yelena…” Natasha’s fingers twitched against the table, aching to reach for her.

“No.” The word was final, a barrier Natasha faltered to cross.

Wanda saw it—the urge in Natasha to move, to hold, to try and mend—but she stopped herself, sitting rigid, jaw locked.

Wanda didn’t. She looked at Natasha and squeezed her thigh before she rose quietly and slipped after Yelena, following her out into the night.

The air outside was cooler, sharp against Wanda’s skin as she stepped into the yard.

Yelena was already there, pacing a few steps before stopping, arms folded tight across her chest. The night pressed quietly around them, broken only by the hum of insects and the echo of the slammed door still hanging in Wanda’s ears.

She stayed back, giving Yelena space. The silence stretched, heavy and taut, until Yelena's breath came rough and uneven, every exhale a battle to stay steady.

Wanda finally spoke, her voice low, careful not to startle. “It was real to you. That’s what matters.”

Yelena didn’t move. She didn’t answer. The words just lingered in the air between them, and the two of them stood there in silence, time stretching long, measured only by the weight of what hadn’t been said.

At last, Yelena’s voice came, quiet, raw, defensive. “Why would you say that?”

“I’m not mocking you.” Wanda’s eyes softened, though her expression stayed guarded. “Because I know what it feels like when someone tells you the best part of your life wasn’t real. And I know how much it hurts to hear it wasn’t.”

The words hung there, heavy but steady, drifting into the quiet night. Yelena didn’t press her, and Wanda didn’t offer more. They just stood together in the silence, the unspoken settling between them like a fragile truce.

After a long pause, Yelena’s shoulders eased the smallest fraction. Her voice was low, roughened at the edges. “...Thank you.”

Wanda gave a faint nod, nothing more.

Silence fell again, deeper this time, but no longer brittle. They stood side by side beneath the night air, saying nothing, letting the quiet hold what neither of them could.

The corner of Wanda’s mouth lifted, the faintest smile breaking through despite the heaviness of the night.

Yelena caught it, her own lips twitching before she leaned closer, voice low enough for only Wanda to hear. “So… did you say all that just so I wouldn’t stay mad at Natasha?”

The tease was soft, half-hearted, but it tugged at the edge of the silence, lighter than the weight that had come before.

Wanda huffed out a soft laugh, shaking her head, though the ghost of her smile lingered. “Maybe.”

Yelena arched a brow at her, unconvinced, though the edge of her glare had dulled.

Wanda’s smile faded into something quieter, steadier. “I won’t defend what she said back there. Not when it hurt you. But…” She paused, searching for the right weight of the words. “She talks about you. More than you think. She always does. And it’s not duty she speaks of—it’s love, even when she won’t admit it to herself.”

Yelena looked away, jaw working, but she didn’t pull back.

Wanda added softly, “Maybe… give her a chance. Not for what she said tonight. For everything else.”

“Okay,” Yelena muttered as she looked down at her feet.

Wanda let it settle into her chest. Beside her, Yelena’s breath came easier, the sharp edge dulled. For a moment, it was enough.

Then the door creaked, and Alexei lumbered out into the night.

He filled the air at once, words spilling like he was allergic to quiet. “Ah, here you are. Sitting in the dark like little spies—”

“Alexei.” Yelena’s voice sliced across him, low and cutting. She didn’t even look at him. “I came out here because I didn’t want to talk.”

Wanda glanced at her, and in the same beat, Yelena glanced back. Their annoyance mirrored in each other’s eyes, sharp and silent, before they both turned forward again.

Alexei froze mid-gesture, mouth half open. He raised his hands in surrender and gave a sheepish shrug. “Okay. We just sit. We just sit.”

He lowered himself onto the step beside them with exaggerated care, as though his silence were an enormous concession. Within seconds, he was shifting his weight, scratching his beard, letting out long, theatrical sighs—his idea of “quiet” was clumsy enough to break it anyway.

Wanda and Yelena turned their heads toward him at the same time, identical unimpressed stares pinning him in place.

Alexei blinked, swallowed, and lifted his palms again. “Fine. Truly quiet. Like stone.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “If stone could whine.”

The corner of Wanda’s mouth lifted, the faintest smile breaking through despite the heaviness of the night.

NATASHA

The dining room had fallen into a heavy silence, the clatter of Yelena’s chair still echoing in Natasha’s ears. The air felt fractured without her, heavy with things none of them had said.

Natasha sat rigid, hands folded against the table to still the restless twitch in her fingers. Across from her, Melina adjusted the tablet with clinical calm, her face composed, as if Yelena’s outburst hadn’t cracked her in the slightest.

Pietro leaned back in his chair, sharp-eyed, watching. He was silent—too silent for someone who usually had a quip on his tongue. Natasha felt the weight of his stare, knew he was measuring her just as much as Melina.

Melina’s gaze shifted toward the doorway like she could see straight through it. “Where are you going?” she asked as Natasha rose from her chair.

“To do this myself.”

“Don’t.” Melina’s voice was cool, matter-of-fact. “You won’t survive.”

Natasha’s mouth curved into something close to a scoff. “I wish I could believe you cared. But you’re not even the first mother who abandoned me.”

“No.” For the first time, Melina’s tone faltered, just barely. “You weren’t abandoned. You were selected by a program that assessed the genetic potential in infants.”

The words struck like a blow. Natasha’s body stilled, every muscle bracing. “I was taken?”

Melina’s expression didn’t waver. “A bargain was struck. Your family paid off. But your mother—” her eyes flickered, soft for a breath before hardening again “—she never stopped looking for you. She was relentless.”

Natasha’s voice was a thin thread, taut with control. “What happened to her?”

“Dreykov had her killed. Her existence threatened to uncover the Red Room. Normally, the actions of one curious civilian wouldn’t warrant an execution, but, as I said, she was relentless.”

Her throat ached as the words sank in, her pulse a steady drum in her ears. She swallowed hard, keeping her voice even.

“I thought about her every day of my life,” Natasha said, her voice low but unshaking. “Whether or not I admitted it to myself, I did.”

The silence that followed was sharp and airless. Melina’s face gave nothing away. Pietro didn’t speak, but Natasha felt his eyes on her—steady, assessing, as if he understood enough to stay quiet.

Melina let out quietly. “I’ve always found it best not to look into the past.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, something hot twisting in her chest. “Then why did you save this?” Her gaze flicked to the framed photograph propped neatly on a nearby shelf, its edges worn with time. The image was burned into her memory. “I remember this day. We shot Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and summer vacation all in one. Different backdrops.”

Melina gave a small, noncommittal hum. “Mmm.”

Natasha’s jaw locked. “I knew all the presents under the tree were just empty boxes, but I didn’t care. I wanted to open every single one… so just for a second, it would feel real. Because I do, I really do want it to be real.”

Melina’s gaze flickered—something too quick to read—before she turned away, her tone clipped. “Let’s stop this.”

“Why are you doing this?” Natasha pressed, voice taut with demand, with anger, with hurt, she hadn’t wanted to let surface.

The silence that followed was thick, charged. Melina’s face remained unreadable, her cool calm a wall Natasha wanted to tear down.

“Why does a mouse born in a cage run on the wheel?” Melina asked at last, her voice softening, “I was cycled through the Red Room four times before you were born. Those walls are all I know. I was never given a choice.”

Natasha felt something in her chest twist. Melina’s words were too calm, too resigned, like the cage had become her truth. Natasha leaned forward, her voice steady but cutting. “The cage may be all you knew, but it doesn’t excuse what you chose inside it.”

A silence fell, taut as wire. Then Pietro spoke, his voice low, deliberate. His hands curled into fists against the table. “The cage is all I knew too… Orphanage. HYDRA. They told me I was nothing without them." Pietro looked lost for a second before looking squarely at Melina. "If all you ever do is run on that wheel, if you never fight to step off it, the system eats you alive. Until the only thing you know is to keep running.”

His throat worked as he drew a breath, gaze fixed on Melina. “That’s why Wanda and I ran and ran and broke that wheel. Not to survive—but to get free. To have a choice. That’s why I wanted to become an Avenger. To prove I could be more than what they made me.”

Natasha turned her head toward him, eyes meeting his. For a brief heartbeat, the silence carried a recognition, a silent acknowledgment between survivors.

Then she faced Melina again. “But you’re not a mouse. You were just born in a cage. That’s not your fault.”

Melina’s expression flickered, the wall of her composure cracking for the barest moment. “Then how did you keep your heart?”

“Pain only makes us stronger.” Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Didn’t you teach us that? What you gave me kept me alive.”

For a moment, the silence seemed to soften.

Then Melina’s eyes began to fill with regret, her tone snapping back to steel. “I’m sorry. I already alerted the Red Room. They’ll be here any minute.”

WANDA

Alexei had been talking since he sat down, words spilling like he couldn’t stand the silence.

“So, there I am ice fishing with my father,” he began, gesturing broadly. “It’s a very cold day in this little ice shed. Cold even for Russia, you know? ‘Keep the vodka by the fire,’ my father would say to me—”

“Please stop talking,” Yelena cut in flatly.

“Please wait. Please wait.” Alexei insists, shifting forward.

“Please, no. Please, I don’t want to talk.”

“Please. Please.” He leaned closer, as if the insistence would make her stay. “There is a reason why I’m telling you this, okay? Trust me. I am reaching for fish. Oh! I lose balance. Ah! Splash! My hands go in the river—”

Yelena scoffed, muttering something sharp under her breath. Wanda pinched the bridge of her nose, irritation pricking, but stayed quiet, her gaze flicking between them, watching Yelena’s patience fray.

“In this weather, frostbite sets in quick,” Alexei continued, as if nothing could stop him. “My father, he go toilet on my hands.”

“Oh my God,” Yelena groaned, dragging a hand down her face. Wanda couldn’t help a small shake of her head, disbelief tinged with exasperation.

“Urine is thirty-five degrees Celsius,” Alexei explained earnestly. “Staves off the frostbite.”

“How is this relevant?” Yelena snapped.

He spread his hands, as if the answer were obvious. “You know, fathers.”

That broke something. Yelena shot to her feet, eyes blazing. “No. No. You have done nothing but tell me how bored you were. I was the chore, the job you didn’t want to do. To me? To me, you were everything.” Her voice cracked, raw enough that Wanda felt it in her chest. She rose too, steady but careful, close enough that Yelena would know she wasn’t standing alone.

“Exactly,” Yelena went on, voice shaking. “You don’t care. You don’t care. The only thing you care about are your stupid glory days as the Crimson Dynamo, and no one wants to hear about it.”

Alexei shrank a little, mumbling under his breath, “It’s the Red Guardian…”

“Go away.” Yelena’s voice was a whip. “Leave me alone!”

Alexei faltered, caught between protest and shame, before he finally stood, lumbering back toward the house.

The night settled heavy around them again. Wanda reached out, resting a hand lightly on Yelena’s shoulder. The younger woman flinched at the contact and shrugged her off, not cruelly, but with the same raw sharpness still running through her voice.

“Don’t,” Yelena muttered, folding her arms tight across her chest as she stared out into the dark.

Wanda let her hand fall, staying close but silent, unwilling to leave her standing alone.

Then, engines roared suddenly in the distance, surprising Wanda, the earth trembling with them.

The attack came fast. Countless Widows through the treeline, rifles in the dark, the wrong hum of chemically bound nerves brushing against Wanda’s mind like static.

Pietro was gone in a blur, disarming weapons, scattering bodies. Yelena fought with a ferocity that was nothing short of desperate. Natasha moved like water, her weapon flashing in tandem with Yelena’s rhythm.

Wanda let the storm break. Red tendrils ripped the dirt open, tossing enemies aside, cracking the walls of the farmhouse. But she hesitated; she could feel it. The strings wound into each Widow’s body, pulling them like marionettes. Every strike against them made Wanda’s stomach twist.

She could snap those strings if she reached. She knew she could, but the thought froze her. What if she made it worse? What if breaking one string shattered the mind beneath it, the way she had always ruined things?

But then, one Widow broke through the haze and locked with Yelena. Smaller, younger than the rest. Movements sharp but still raw. A teenager—eleven, maybe twelve. Too young.

Yelena’s blade stopped inches from the girl’s chest. Her jaw tightened, her voice rasped through her teeth, “You’re too young to be here.”

The girl’s expression didn’t flicker. With blank eyes, her knife raised again, mechanical and merciless.

Wanda’s chest twisted. She couldn’t let Yelena do it. Couldn’t watch another child soldier bleed for Dreykov.

Scarlet light bled from her hands as she reached into the wrong hum thrumming through the girl’s nerves.

Not to seize. Not to command. But to set free.

The girl gasped, stumbling as if waking from a nightmare. Her knife clattered to the ground. Confusion washed over her face, wide-eyed, terrified.

Suddenly, a sharp signal cracked the air.

The Widows froze at first, then began retreating into the trees. Two of them grabbed the freed girl by her arms. She struggled, weak and panicked, screaming once before being dragged toward the dark.

Wanda surged forward, ready to tear the forest apart—

—but a shout split the air.

“Natasha!” Yelena shouted.

Wanda’s magic lashed out, a violent surge of red tearing Taskmaster from Natasha and hurling her across the dirt. The assassin landed hard but rolled effortlessly to her feet, standing back into place with mechanical precision.

Pietro blurred past in a silver streak, striking the two Widows that had pressed with her, disarming and dropping them before they could recover. Dust and dirt swirled in the chaos.

Taskmaster didn’t lunge back into the fight. She stood just beyond the reach of Wanda’s glow, visor tilted toward her like a mirror of cold calculation. Wanda’s chest heaved, power still sparking wild and uncontrolled, and for a long, harrowing second, it felt like Taskmaster was measuring her. Watching, memorizing, adapting.

Then, with a sharp hand signal, Taskmaster turned. The remaining Widows snapped to her motion and began their retreat, vanishing into the treeline in eerie synchronicity. Taskmaster followed last, never breaking her gaze from Wanda until the shadows swallowed her whole.

Yelena hauled Natasha back to her feet, their shoulders colliding as they steadied each other. Natasha’s breathing was sharp, shallow, her knives still clenched white-knuckled in her grip.

By the time the dust cleared, the girl Wanda had freed was gone—swallowed back into the retreat as though she had never broken free at all. The trees seemed to close behind her, erasing any trace she’d been there.

Wanda’s hands shook violently, red sparks spitting uncontrolled from her fingertips. Her chest rose and fell in jagged bursts. She had freed one—she had reached into the strings, cut them clean—and still lost her anyway. The failure dug into her ribs like claws.

The battlefield sagged into stillness. The last body hit the ground with a dull thud, and silence followed, heavy and absolute. Smoke curled from the cracks in the farmhouse walls. Pietro slowed to a stop at Wanda’s side, chest heaving, silver streaks of dirt and blood staining his jacket. Yelena dragged a sleeve across her mouth, eyes still burning, but no one spoke.

And then the absence struck.

The place at the table, the corner by the doorway—empty. No trace of them.

Melina and Alexei were gone.

“Melina ran,” Yelena spat, chest heaving. Her eyes were wet, voice cracking at the betrayal. “They ran again!”

But Wanda wasn’t looking at the woods. Her heart stuttered in her chest. Natasha stood across the room, blades dripping, hair clinging to sweat. To anyone else, it was Natasha. But Wanda felt the absence like a scream.

That heartbeat she had learned to steady herself against—the feeling of comfort she had associated with Natasha—wasn’t there.

Her throat went dry. She took a step forward, her voice low and breaking. “…Who are you?”

Natasha staggered slightly, blinking like she’d just come out of a daze. “What are you talking about?” Her voice was Natasha’s, but the cadence was wrong — confused, fumbling, not the sharp edge Wanda knew.

The wrongness made Wanda’s skin crawl.

Her power flared in her palms, red light crackling.

She stepped forward at Natasha, eyes burning. “Where is she?” Her voice cracked, rising into a snarl, her powers threatening to burst. “Where is Natasha?!”

The house trembled. Lamps flickered.

Pietro darted in front of her, hands out. “Wanda! Think—just breathe, you’re scaring everyone—” His voice was steady, but there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes as well.

“Wanda, stop!” Yelena’s voice snapped, but it carried more disbelief than anger, thin with panic. Her blade shook in her hand, her eyes wide as she looked between Wanda and Natasha. “What are you saying?!”

Wanda’s breath hitched, her own voice breaking as she snapped back. “Because I’m telling you—something’s wrong! I can’t feel her. If that’s Natasha, then why does it feel like she’s already gone?”

“What do you mean? She’s right here!”

The words tore something inside her wide open. Wanda’s voice boomed, raw and cracking with fury. “No! She’s not! You’re not my Natasha!”

Scarlet light exploded outward, slamming into Natasha like a storm. Pietro shielded Yelena, dragging her back as the walls rattled, beams groaning under the weight of Wanda’s power. The edges of the disguise peeled away under the force. The mask fizzled, sizzling into smoke.

And Melina’s face stared back at them.

Yelena made a sound between a sob and a snarl when she realized what had happened. “She went on her own?!”

The room tilted under Wanda’s feet. Natasha hadn’t stayed behind—she had gone off alone.

“She’s on her way inside already,” Melina said quickly, voice sharp, trying to cut through the chaos. “She went in as me. It was the plan.”

Wanda’s power snapped out in a wave, rattling the windows, making the pigs shriek outside. “You let her go alone?!” Her voice broke into a scream. “Why didn’t she tell me?!”

“Because she needed you here,” Melina snapped. “To bring down the network from the outside.”

“I don’t care about your plan.” Wanda’s chest heaved, her hands trembling, red tendrils bleeding out uncontrolled. “If she’s in there, I’ll burn the whole thing to the ground to get her back.”

“Wanda—” Pietro started, stepping close, but she was already gone somewhere he couldn’t reach, panic rising like fire.

“This isn’t just about you,” Yelena spat, grief shaking her voice.

Wanda’s head whipped toward her, eyes burning. “She’s important to me. Don’t you dare tell me it isn’t about me.”

“The Red Room is up in the atmosphere; you can’t easily bring the fortress down.” Melina let out quietly.

The house groaned under the weight of her fury, beams creaking, lamps flickering. Wanda’s magic licked across the floorboards, wild and dangerous.

For a long moment, no one breathed.

Then Wanda whispered, low and sharp, “If the Red Room keeps her in the sky, I’ll drag it down as I set the sky on fire.”

Chapter Text

2016. Melina's Farm

May

The farmhouse shook under Wanda's fury. Scarlet tendrils crawled up the beams, rattling the lamps until glass chimed like bells. The air thickened, heavy with the wrong hum of her magic.

Wanda didn’t touch Melina—she didn’t need to. A twist of her hand and the older woman was slammed back into a chair, pinned there as if bound by chains no one else could see.

“Tell me where it is,” Wanda demanded, her voice low and sharp, each word a threat that reverberated through the walls.

Melina’s mask of composure cracked. She strained against the unseen grip, eyes flashing with panic. “If I tell you, you’ll ruin everything. Natasha has a plan—”

The house groaned in protest, beams creaking as red tendrils spread and flared hotter.

Pietro’s blur cut across the room, intercepting Yelena before she could lunge toward her mother.

“Don’t,” he muttered, his own nerves betraying him in the edge of his voice. He knew what Wanda looked like before she broke. He knew what she would do if anyone tried to stop her. He knew what she would feel if she hurt Yelena, Natasha’s sister.

Melina gasped under the crushing weight pressing her into the chair. “The plan was hers,” she choked. “She trusts you here—on the outside—to support her. Don’t be unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?” Wanda tilted her head, eyes glowing bright red, her voice dropping to a terrible whisper. “Trust me, I’m holding back already. You don’t know what I can do when I’m really being unreasonable.”

Melina froze. Even Yelena stopped struggling against Pietro, eyes wide on Wanda.

For a moment, no one moved.

Scarlet light pulsed in Wanda’s palms, the vibration in the air sharp enough to make the whole house shudder. Wanda slowly stepped closer, words precise, terrifying.

“I could easily pick your mind apart and take what I want. I can control you and make you do things you wouldn’t even imagine, just like what you did with that pig.” Wanda shifted, making everyone flinch. A vase cracked against the wall, shards scattering across the floor. “But I’m asking because she trusted you with this. That must mean something. You don’t want to exhaust my patience.”

Melina’s hands trembled as she struggled against Wanda’s bind. “This is the best plan we had with the time we were given. She wanted it this way. If you interfere, you could make it worse. You could expose her and put her in danger.”

That made Wanda stop short.

Wanda’s chest heaved, the scarlet glow pulsing like a heartbeat. “Then why weren’t we informed? Why didn’t she trust us enough to be told?”

For the first time, Melina’s gaze faltered. Some old memory flickered across her face—fear, conditioning, something she couldn’t mask. She whispered, almost to herself, “Sometimes… orders don’t give you a choice.”

The echo of it hit Wanda like a mirror held too close. For a heartbeat, her fury stalled, caught on the reflection of her own ghosts.

“Wanda,” Yelena said softly, worry etched into her tone.

Pietro seized the moment, stepping in close, steady hand slowly pressing against Wanda’s shoulder at first, then pulled her towards him in an embrace, and rocked her back and forth.

“Easy, Wanda,” he murmured. “You’ll burn yourself out before you even reach her.”

Scarlet light quivered around her hands before dimming, scarlet tendrils hovering in her skin.

 The house seemed to sigh with relief as the pressure lifted.

“Pietro…” Wanda lets out, her words muffled as she buries her face in the crook of her brother’s neck.

“I know.” Pietro lets out softly, still rocking her gently in his embrace as he looks at Yelena and Melina. His tone stayed warm, but the edge of a grin tugged at his mouth. “Relax, everyone. Maximoff Records isn’t about to let its frontwoman blow up the stage before the tour. We’ll handle this set cleanly.”

Yelena blinked, caught between horror and disbelief. “You’re seriously making jokes right now?”

“That’s how contracts work,” Pietro replied lightly, brushing Wanda’s hair back from her face. “You don’t torch the venue before you play. We’re here to end the deal with the Red Room — nothing more. No messy encore, no off-script chaos. My sister’s got this.”

Wanda huffed into his shoulder, torn between exhaustion and reluctant exasperation. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” Pietro whispered back, giving her one last squeeze before letting her go. His eyes flicked toward Melina, still sitting at the chair, but free from Wanda’s hold. “So… why don’t we all keep the lights on, hm? No need for a meltdown before the headline act.”

The scarlet glow had retreated fully into Wanda’s skin now, her shoulders tight but steady. She wasn’t calm — not completely — but she was in control.

Pietro held her another moment, then pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. His grin tilted, mock-serious as he glanced between Wanda and Yelena.

“One half of the Red Room Sister Act just went solo,” he announced like a press agent breaking bad news. “She’s cutting ties with her old label for good this time. Last solo run was messy — breach of contract, not good for her image.” His gaze settled on Yelena.

Yelena’s brows shot up. “Are you—seriously?”

Pietro just raised a finger as if conducting a press conference. “Don’t worry. Maximoff Records will handle the rebranding. Clean cut, no messy lawsuits. We’ll even shoulder the exit fee. No hidden pay cuts, royalties to the artist every time.”

“Pietro…” Wanda muttered, exasperation lacing her voice — but the storm in her chest eased further.

He shot her a knowing look. “See? Works every time.”

The memory played sharply in Natasha's mind — the subtle nod she’d given Melina before the switch. She knew Wanda would protect the woman wearing her face. That was the deal. That was the risk.

For a second, she felt guilty for using Wanda like that. She shook her head and maintained composure. No time for softness.

Natasha, now behind Melina’s sharp features, had stepped forward with cool composure and told Taskmaster, “Natasha Romanoff’s location.” The words had tasted like ash, but it was exactly as they’d planned.

Now she moved with the Widows during their retreat, her expression clinical, her stride efficient. The clearance Melina carried gave her freedom of movement, and unlike the others, she hadn’t been sedated. No one questioned it.

She sat at the helm of the jet, hands steady on the controls. Around her, the Widows buckled in wordlessly, their gazes forward, as if waiting for orders that had already been carved into their bones.

Natasha’s grip tightened on the controls, the mask of Melina’s face still steady. Her voice was clinical when she spoke into the comm.

“Let’s not keep him waiting.”

A Widow beside her tapped the radio. Natasha pressed the switch, forcing herself into Melina’s cadence. “Request clearance for landing.”

A string of Russian answered through the static, approval codes sliding across her ear in clipped tones. She didn’t let her hands tremble.

Behind her, Alexei stirred, his eyes slitting open as sedation began to wear thin. He squinted forward at her. “Melina?”

Natasha didn’t turn. She couldn’t. She only adjusted the pitch of her voice, calm, even. “We’re touching down in one minute.”

There was a long beat. Alexei blinked blearily at the windows, confusion creeping over his face. “Then why are we still going up?” His words broke off into a grunt as a Red Room Soldier jabbed him with a syringe. His head lolled to the side, out cold again.

Natasha didn’t flinch. She couldn’t afford to. Not yet.

Every second was a balancing act. Hold the mask, keep the part, get close enough to Dreykov to end this.

Natasha kept her eyes forward, jaw set. She let the answer drop like iron. “Now you’ll know how Dreykov stayed above the radar all these years.”

The jet climbed higher, clouds swallowing them whole until steel towers cut through the mist above.

The Red Room revealed itself at last — a fortress in the sky.

2016. Red Room

May

Dreykov didn’t hurry. He never did. He sat behind his desk with the posture of a man who owned every corner of the air they breathed, the ledger at his fingertips little more than a prop.

“My God. Look at you.” He chuckled nonchalantly. “So, uh… how was the family reunion?”

Natasha wore Melina’s face, Melina’s thin smile. Her voice came out clipped, disdainful. “Awful. They were too clingy, emotional, and needy.”

“Just like old times, huh?” He grinned, amused with himself.

She hummed, noncommittal.

“Yelena Belova.” He tapped his desk with two fingers, gaze narrowing. “She was the only one affected, wasn’t she?”

“As far as I know, yes.” Natasha’s reply was flat, clinical.

He sighed, like it bored him. “These gasses and antidotes… It’s a pain in my ass. And yet — My asset fails to bring Belova in. Fails to bring Romanoff in as well. Two more problems. Both sisters, both defects. No thanks to those damn twins.” His lip curled faintly. “They are becoming… irritating.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened, but her borrowed face betrayed nothing.

“I’m disappointed,” Dreykov went on, tone still maddeningly calm. “The Taskmaster should not have struggled. Modifications may be required.”

Natasha pushed through and inclined her head slightly, just enough. “I have nine pigs that will require attending to in my absence once I start with the research.”

He dismissed it with a flick of his hand. “I don’t give a shit about your pigs. Yelena Belova. Natasha Romanoff. Both of them are failures. One runs, the other escapes control. If they can resist, then others can. That’s unacceptable.” He walked around his table as Natasha took a seat in front of him. “But first, once Yelena Belova is brought in, cut her brains apart. Find the fault. Identify the weakness.”

Her nails dug crescents into her palms out of his sight. Inside, her fury coiled tight — but the mask of Melina held.

For now.

2016. Red Room

May

The jet’s landing struts groaned as they slammed against a rusting dock hidden along the Red Room’s eastern spine. Melina—still wearing Natasha’s face—moved with her usual clinical precision, inputting clearance codes at the console. The lock disengaged with a mechanical snap, and the service doors hissed open.

Wanda’s skin prickled. It was Natasha’s face, Natasha’s voice, Natasha’s frame standing right beside her—but the cadence, the pulse in the air, the feeling of her presence she’d come to know like her own heartbeat? Nothing. Her magic recoiled from it, restless, telling her what her mind already knew.

This wasn’t her.

Scarlet tendrils curled at Wanda’s fingertips before she forced them back down, her jaw tightening.

The disguise worked. It had to. But she hated every second of it.

Yelena leaned over the grated platform and stared at the clouds yawning below. “This is a much less cool way to die.”

Pietro smirked, already kneeling at the hatch lock. “Would you look at that? An exclusive backstage entrance. Maximoff Records only books the premium venues.”

The doors slid wider, spilling dim red light from the service corridor. Melina turned back to them, her tone flat, clinical.

“Remember, stealth is essential. Natasha is most likely with Dreykov by now. Any alarm will compromise her position. Stick to the plan.”

Her eyes—Natasha’s eyes, but not—swept across the three of them. “The vials will probably be down to the cold storage. Dreykov still has the widows under his control, so you three have to expose them to this antidote.”

“What about you?” Yelena asks.

“I need to get to your father first.” Melina brushes off a non-existent dust on Yelena’s shoulders as she continued, speaking with her usual calm as if she’s sending Yelena off, “I’ll head to the control hub, create a backdoor to help you three and Natasha. Make sure to always have your comms with you.”

Wanda gave a stiff nod, though her gaze lingered. It looked like Natasha. It sounded like Natasha. But it wasn’t her Natasha. And Wanda could feel it in her bones.

She could’ve blasted this place easily on her own, but the thought of Natasha still here and with Dreykov, she couldn’t take the chances.

Natasha kept her posture clinical as she sat, Melina’s face steady as Dreykov circled the desk.

“What about Romanoff?” she asked, voice deliberately detached.

Dreykov’s smile widened, though his tone never shifted from its maddening calm. “She’s a traitor. She turned her back on her people. On her blood. She had nothing. I gave her a home. I gave her love.” He leaned close, eyes glinting. “Put that thing in her that you do. You know—the chemicals. Turn her into one of your pigs. Can you imagine what I could do with an Avenger under my control?”

Natasha’s nails dug into her palms, but her expression never cracked. “Wouldn’t you like to speak to her first?”

Dreykov gave a soft chuckle. “When you look into the eyes of a child you have raised, no mask in the world can hide that.”

Dreykov rose from behind the desk and came close, his hand lifting like he might brush her cheek. Natasha’s body tensed on instinct; she caught his wrist, but her grip wasn’t iron this time. Not like it could be. She let the tremor slip through her fingers, let the hesitation show in her eyes.

He saw it. He drank it in.

A smile coiled across his face, smug and satisfied. “There she is,” he murmured, savoring every flinch. “The girl who ran. My little defect.”

Natasha kept still, her jaw clenched as though she didn’t dare strike. It was all part of the act — let him think she was afraid, let him believe the mask of Melina had given her courage she didn’t really own.

Dreykov chuckled softly and, with deliberate calm, reached over to her again. A switch flipped; the masking device let out a soft whir.

Her disguise flickered as it dissolved. Melina’s sharp features bled away, leaving her own reflection staring back behind him. Natasha Romanoff, exposed.

Dreykov’s grin sharpened, wolfish. “Welcome home.” He gestured lazily toward the masking device, as though presenting a prize. “Now, now. Don’t go breaking my new toy.”

The guards slumped, the last of them falling with a soft thud against the steel floor, their blood already a darkening stain.

Melina wiped the blade clean with a clinical flick and slid it away, her breathing perfectly steady. Her face, a perfect imitation of Natasha’s, stared back from her reflection in the dark glass. She didn't look away as she keyed the lock, the air hissing out of the door as it swung open.

Alexei jerked awake inside the cell, his eyes instantly fixing on the familiar face. “Natasha…” His voice cracked, raw with guilt. He stumbled forward, gripping the bars for balance. “I can’t save us. I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

Melina exhaled, a sharp, quiet sound of a sigh. She said nothing.

“I pledged my life to a cause,” Alexei went on, words tumbling now, desperation pulling them free. “I thought I was being brave. Possibly the bravest. But I wasn’t. I was a coward.” His broad shoulders shook, voice raw. “In Cuba, when they came and took you away from me…” He choked, breath hitching. “No cause is worth that. You should only sacrifice yourself for something—”

A faint squeak of glass broke through his confession. He blinked, confused, his eyes darting to the glass on the cell door. “How did you do that?”

Melina’s voice, as dry and familiar as rust, came from Natasha’s face. The jarring disconnect sent a cold shiver down Alexei's spine.

Melina simply watched him, a tranquil stillness in her eyes. "I designed these cells myself." The calm in her voice was absolute, carrying a quiet, unsettling pride, as if she were simply commenting on a piece of furniture she had built.

Alexei froze. His mouth worked soundlessly, the reality of the situation dawning on him. “What? What? I bared my soul to you, and it was just you the whole time?”

Melina sighed again, her thumb brushing her collar. The shimmer of disguise dropped, revealing her own lined face beneath. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”

She tapped her comm, shifting tone instantly, professional, efficient. “But wait—shh. I’m on comms with Yelena. Yelena, it’s me. It’s Mama. I’m with your father now, we’re on our way to the control hub.”

Alexei blinked, still reeling. Then he waved a hand like he was brushing her aside, speaking louder, as if it might cut through the static.

“Okay, girls, I’m having trouble hearing you, but Natasha, there’s something I need you to know. I need you to know that I’m sorry. No more excuses, okay? I gave my life for a cause. I thought I was being brave—”

Melina turned her head, unimpressed. “You don’t have an earpiece.”

He stopped mid-sentence. “What?”

“She can’t hear you,” Melina said, brisk as ever. “You don’t have an earpiece.”

Alexei frowned. “Why not?”

Melina didn’t even look up from checking the corridor. “Because it wasn’t a part of the plan.”

Mostly because he talks too much. But of course, she wouldn’t say that.

He stared at her for a beat, then huffed. “Oh, yeah? Well… what was the plan?”

Melina finally glanced at him, one brow arched. “Survive long enough to bring this place down. Now move.”

The three of them moved in silence, scattered across the cold storage chamber, voices low over comms as they searched. The rows stretched like a maze, shadows pooling between crates.

Above, a vent cover rattled softly. Yelena dropped through, landing in a perfect three-point crouch — one knee bent, one hand braced on the floor, pistol angled out.

A hero’s landing.

She froze when realization hit. Her nose wrinkled, and she muttered without thinking — forgetting her comm was still live. “Ugh. That was disgusting.”

Pietro’s voice came back instantly, amused. “Wait, what was disgusting?”

Yelena groaned. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“Oh no,” Pietro pressed, grinning through the line. “I heard that tone. Tell me you didn’t just do the pose.”

Her teeth clicked audibly. “…I didn’t do the pose.”

He laughed quietly. “She did the pose.”

Wanda sighed under her breath, pressing two fingers to her temple. “Focus, both of you.”

Yelena rolled her eyes — though no one could see it — and pushed deeper into her section. Then her breath caught. Just ahead, sitting neat on a shelf under harsh white light, was the case.

The vials.

Relief flickered across her face.

Dreykov lounged back in his chair, Natasha’s reflection still raw in the glass behind him, the mask gone. His smirk lingered as though the unmasking had been a victory all its own.

“You know, Romanoff,” he said, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, “I built an empire from nothing. A whisper here, a push there. Presidents, generals, kings — all under my hand, and none of them even knew it. That is power. Not costumes. Not playing gods.”

He rose slowly, circling her like a specimen in a cage. “Everywhere, my Widows. Planted in governments, in armies, in the markets you think your precious Avengers protect. I can crush empires without even lifting a finger. And they will never even know who pulled the string.”

Natasha held herself still, letting the silence stretch. Letting him talk. Letting him gloat.

Dreykov then sat back in his chair, her reflection raw in the glass behind him, the mask gone. His smirk lingered as though unmasking her had been a victory all its own.

“Is this your plan?” he asked, voice dripping with smug amusement.

Natasha’s eyes locked on his. “My plan is to kill you.”

He spread his hands. “I’m alive. So, what do we do now?”

Her jaw tightened. “What was my mother’s name?”

For the first time, he faltered — only slightly. “Ah… where we buried her, there was a tree… a pink blossom. Beautiful.” His lips curled. “And on the tombstone… her name.” He chuckled. “A—, yes. ‘Unknown.’” He finished mockingly.

The word sank into her like lead. She forced the tremor in her chest down.

“You don’t feel anything?” She pressed, her voice like glass about to break. “Nothing at all when I killed your daughter?”

Dreykov laughed, cruel and delighted. “This is your haunted past? Really?” He leaned back, gesturing toward the door. “Thank you, Natasha. You gave me my greatest weapon.”

A panel hissed open, then boots struck the floor.

“Say hello,” he drawled. “When your bomb exploded, it nearly killed my Antonia. I had to put a chip in the back of her neck to fix her.” His grin stretched wider. “Look at her.”

The armored figure stood silent, faceless behind her visor.

The Taskmaster.

“Do you find it difficult to look at her? I do.” He stood up and made his way  towards Natasha. “She watches everything. And she can do it. Perfect mimic. She fights just like all of your friends.” He circles Natasha, as if wrapping him around in his vice-like grip like a snake.

Natasha’s throat tightened. “Can she hear me?”

“What? You want to tell her you’re sorry? You should have thought of that before you blew her face off.” Dreykov sneered.

Dreykov paused as he looked over at his desk before his attention slid back to Natasha. “It seems like I have pests that need extermination.” His grin sharpened.

“The witch’s brother. The sister. Melina. Alexei.” His lip curled. “Rats. All of them. Crawling in my walls.”

He turned back to Natasha, eyes glittering with cruelty.

“Your guard dog… the witch. Always at your side, teeth bared, snapping at anything that dares touch you. Too dangerous to leave untamed. But every dog can be broken. Trained and fixed. Collared. Made to heel.”

For the briefest second, her mask slipped — the thought of Wanda under Dreykov’s control slicing through her composure.

He saw it instantly. “There it is. You slipped.” His laugh was soft and cruel. “I’ve raised enough children to know when one of them shows fear.”

“So, even the great Black Widow has a weakness. And she answers to a name.” His smile widened, wolfish.

“But enough of this bullshit.” He turned to Antonia and waved her away like a bored king dismissing a servant.

Antonia lowered the visor back into place. The helmet snapped shut becoming Taskmaster once again.

“Now go,” Dreykov ordered. “Deal with the pests in the basement. Bring me Belova, do not fail me again.”

The armored head dipped once. Then Taskmaster strode out, silent as a blade.

Yelena’s fingers closed tight around the case of vials, her breath catching like she’d pulled treasure out of a tomb. Relief flickered across her face for only a heartbeat.

But then the shelves behind her shuddered, the metal groaning with a deep, unsettling sound.

Taskmaster emerged from the far end of the aisle, her movements slow and deliberate, a predator measuring its prey. Her visor flashed in the harsh white light, a single, silent eye sizing up the distance between them.

Wanda’s pulse kicked. She felt the shift in the air before the first strike landed.

“We need to move!” she shouted, her magic already coiling at her palms.

Taskmaster lunged, blade flashing. Yelena twisted away, dragging the case tight against her chest as the assassin’s strike glanced off her pistol. A shower of sparks erupted as steel met steel, each jarring blow shoving her further back across the floor and separating her from Wanda and Pietro. She tightened her grip on the pistol, using it as a last-ditch shield, knowing that every block was a gamble. She had to guard the vials first, herself second.

Scarlet tendrils cracked across the aisle as Wanda hurled a blast forward. Taskmaster snapped a shield into place, the impact rattling the shelves but holding, precise as Steve himself. The assassin spun low into a crouch, sliding like Clint, a boot slamming into the shelf to launch debris straight into Wanda’s line of sight.

Steel toppled and scattered everywhere, falling directly above Yelena. With a wave of her hand, it turned into dust, but Taskmaster repeated the action, her movements a blur of calculated violence, forcing Wanda to keep defending as the assassin advanced relentlessly toward Yelena.

“Cute trick,” Pietro muttered as he saw what Taskmaster was doing. A silver blur darted to Yelena’s side, and he shoved her sideways as Taskmaster's blade came down a moment later, cutting through the space where Yelena's head had been, his arm locking around her waist to yank her clear in a rush of speed. “You’re welcome.”

Yelena snarled, shoving herself free the second she landed.

"Stay out of my way!" she spat, her voice laced with fury. She raised her pistol, pressing the barrel directly against Taskmaster's chest armor before firing.

The shot ricocheted with a deafening clang, leaving a fresh scorch mark but barely making the assassin flinch. In the same motion, Taskmaster twisted into a brutal counter, a precise strike that sent Yelena sprawling across the floor.

Wanda’s fury spiked in a raw surge of red energy. It whipped forward like a living thing, snapping into a shield just in time to catch Taskmaster’s follow-up strike aimed for Yelena’s exposed back. The impact was a brutal shockwave that vibrated through the air.

Taskmaster didn’t relent. The assassin flowed seamlessly from shield to sword, from Steve’s brutal unwavering strikes to Clint’s swift, evasive acrobatics, to the precise, close-quarters combat of Natasha herself—an unending blur of mimicked moves that left no openings.

Pietro’s blur faltered under the assault. Every time he darted in close, the assassin predicted the rhythm of his attack, a shield snapping into his path with a crack, a kick cutting across his motion before he could even register the threat.

He was fast, but the mimic was fast enough to disrupt him.

“Go!” Wanda roared, blasting crimson wide to force Taskmaster back.

Yelena staggered up, clutching the case to her chest, and sprinted down the next aisle with a burst of frantic speed.

Pietro was on her heels, a silver blur darting back and forth, a chaotic whirlwind of motion. He kicked debris aside with a series of sharp, rapid motions, cutting off Taskmaster’s angles.

Wanda followed last, her chaos magic surging around them, a destructive barrier clearing their path of anything that stood in their way.

Natasha fought to get her breath back, her knuckles white on her gun. "Well," she managed, her voice a low, dangerous rumble, "that was a mistake."

"Was it?" Dreykov's voice was a soft, amused murmur.

Natasha's lip curled in a snarl. "You just sent away the one thing that would stop me from killing you."

Dreykov let out a low, confident chuckle. "Try, then. Do it."

Natasha lunged, her pistol up, aimed dead center at his forehead. But her hand froze, trembling midair as if caught by an invisible force. The gun shook violently in her grip, her finger refusing to pull the trigger.

"Is the safety on?" Dreykov taunted, a sly smirk on his face.

Her teeth ground together in a furious clench. With a guttural growl, she dropped the useless gun, snatched a knife from her boot, and drove it down with all her might—but her grip faltered, her muscles betraying her.

The blade clattered uselessly onto the floor.

"You're in trouble," he purred, smirk widening.

"How are you controlling me?" She hissed, her voice laced with venom.

"I'm not controlling you, Natasha." His voice oozed smugness. "Well, not yet. In your batch, there is a pheromonal lock. Smelling my pheromones prevents you from committing violence against me." 

 "I'm very upset with Melina.” He let out a weary sigh, almost casually. “Such a shame I have to kill her."

Melina’s fingers flew across the console, a blur of motion as the screen spilled lines of green code and cascading red warnings. Her jaw was tight, eyes narrowed with a tunnel-vision focus that shut out everything else.

Behind her, Alexei shifted restlessly, the sound of his boots scuffing the floor as he bounced on his heels. “Come on, now. If we’re just going to press buttons and hack computers—”

“Yes,” Melina answered briskly, not looking up from the screen.

“I mean, I don’t know.” He spread his arms, exasperated, his voice rising. “There’s nothing for me to do. I want to… I want to break something.”

“Oh, you do?” she replied, her voice flat but the faintest curve of a smile tugging her lips.

The distinct thud of countless boots began echoing down the hall.

Melina finally glanced at him, her head tilting toward the sound. “Oh, there is something you can break.”

The door exploded inward.

Alexei grinned. “Finally.”

He slammed into the first soldier, taking their shield up to take the volley of fire. The impact shoved him back, but he pushed forward with a bellow, swinging a backhand that sent the man crashing into the wall with a sickening crunch.

The last of the guards crumpled to the floor, leaving the room to the heavy sound of their own ragged breathing. The victory tasted like metal on their tongues, a brief moment of respite. Then, a new sound cut through the silence—the heavy, rhythmic thud of multiple boots. The door at the far end of the room swung open, and a new wave of soldiers stepped into the light, their weapons raised and ready.

Alexei grunted, the metallic thud of the blocked strike reverberating up his gauntlet. He took a quick, frantic glance at Melina, his face a mask of straining effort. “Melina!” he barked, shoving his attacker away with a grunt. “Work faster!”

She didn’t look up. Her fingers were a blur of motion, the keys clattering as lines of code flooded the screen. “If you don’t want this whole place to tear itself apart mid-air, don’t rush me.”

Another soldier lunged. Alexei caught the man by the vest, slammed him against the bulkhead, and snarled. “You heard her. Stay out of the way!”

He turned just in time to catch a blade on his forearm guard, the metal screeching in protest. Blood smeared across his knuckles, but he only grinned despite it.

Melina rerouted the last sequence, her voice clipped. “Engaging descent protocol now.”

The console screamed in protest, red lights flashing. Outside the windows, the Red Room groaned and lurched, the horizon tilting wildly as it prepared to fall.

Alexei shoved another soldier down with a grunt, glancing back at her. “You better know what you’re doing!”

“I always do,” she shot back, voice cool, though a fine sheen of sweat lined her brow.

The console suddenly screamed in protest, lights flashing. For a heartbeat, she thought she had it—until the screen went black, replaced by a single, blood-red warning sigil. 

ACCESS DENIED

Her breath caught, a sharp, ragged sound. “No—” Melina’s face hardened, her fingers already flying to counter the block. “He knows,” she muttered, a chilling realization. “He cut me off.”

Alexei shoved another soldier to the floor, glancing back with a grunt. “Then hack faster!”

The alarms howled, a deafening shriek that ripped through the air. Red lights strobed across the glass walls of Dreykov’s sanctum, painting everything in frantic flashes of crimson. His smile didn’t falter, not even as the entire fortress shuddered beneath them.

“So, this was the big plan, huh?” He gestured lazily toward the ceiling, his hand waving away the chaos as if it were a minor inconvenience. “Melina was going to land the Red Room and hand me over to the authorities.”

Natasha ignored the chaos around them, her eyes never leaving his. "So what now?" she challenged, her voice low and dangerous. "You’re going to fold me into your pathetic little puppeteer act?"

"Pathetic, huh?" Dreykov scoffed, a flicker of genuine irritation crossing his face.

"Yeah. What would you call it?"

His lip curled into a sneer, and he leaned in, savoring the moment. "I would call it..."

Natasha cut across him, sharp and precise. "When was the last time you had a conversation with someone who wasn’t forced to talk to you?"

His expression twitched. “You ran away to fight in the wrong war. The real war was fought here, in the shadows.”

“You didn’t fight in the shadows,” Natasha spat, her voice laced with pure contempt. “You hid in the dark.”

Dreykov leaned forward, his voice calm, smug. “Real power comes from undetectable influence.”

“If no one’s noticed,” she countered, her lip curling in a sneer, “then why even do it? You’re nothing.”

His eyes flared, a flash of pure, unadulterated rage. “Hmm.”

“You have nothing.”

His fist slammed down onto the console, the sudden, booming sound echoing through the room. “There are fifty people on this planet—”

She scoffed, then let out a sharp burst of laughter. Goading him. “Oh, stop it.”

“Don’t tell me to stop!” he roared, his face contorted in a mask of fury.

“If I don’t tell you when to stop,” Natasha shot back, her voice a low, cold cut, “then how will you know when to shut up?”

She lunged forward, daring him to hit her. He struck her across the face with a hard, flat hand, the sound a sharp crack that echoed through the room.

She staggered, her head snapping to the side, but the smile broke through anyway, a cold, triumphant curve of her lips.

“Come on,” she scoffed, her voice an icy whisper. “You think I can’t take a punch?”

He struck her again, the blow a desperate, open-handed slap.

Natasha's lip curled into a sneer of pure contempt and amusement. "God damn it, you're weak."

"Weak?" Dreykov snarled, his eyes blazing with fury.

"I bet it's easier to be tough in front of defenseless little girls, huh?"

"That's enough!" He lunged again, a shout of pure rage, his hand rising to hit her once more.

She caught the edge of his desk, her knuckles scraping against the wood, and grunted with effort. She was barely holding herself up, but she refused to break his gaze, the mocking triumph in her eyes unwavering.

“You wouldn’t be so glib,” Dreykov hissed, “if you had any notion of the scope of what I’ve built. I own this world. Me.”

Natasha tilted her head, cold. “You seem desperate to impress me.”

“I don’t need to impress you. I don’t need to impress anyone.” His voice rose, feverish now, a maniacal glint in his eyes. “These world leaders, these great men, they answer to me and my Widows. Look at them! These girls were trash, thrown out into the streets. I recycle the trash. I give them purpose. I give them a life!”

He jabbed a finger toward the console. “It’s my network of Widows that controls the scales of power. One command, the oil and stock markets crumble. One command, and a quarter of the planet starves. My Widows can start and end wars. They can make and break kings!”

Natasha let him finish, then tilted her head. “And you control all of that from here?”

“And with you,” Dreykov’s eyes gleamed, “an Avenger under my control, I can finally come out of the shadows. Using the only natural resource this world has too much of.”

He paused, then gave Natasha a chilling smile. “Girls.”

Her lips twisted into a smile of her own, “All from that little console?”

“Yes.” He paused, his own eyes narrowing as he sensed the shift in her. “What? You find this amusing? Why are you smiling?”

“Don’t take it personally,” Natasha said softly, her smirk widening as she heard the final confirmation she needed. All of Black Widow's files were right there, on the console. “But… thank you for your cooperation.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened as she acted like she was looking at the console. “You weren’t quite strong enough,” she muttered. “So I’ll have to finish it myself.”

Dreykov chuckled, his arrogance a palpable thing. “And what are you going to do?”

Natasha’s fist curled into a ball, and she inhaled once, sharp and sudden. Then she drove her head back into the edge of the desk, the sound of her nose breaking with a sickening crunch.

Blood poured hot down her face, but she rose slowly, her eyes blazing through the crimson blur. “Sever the nerve.”

The alarm in the sanctum screamed louder as the entire fortress shuddered again, and Dreykov’s smug composure finally cracked, his face twisting in genuine shock and fury.

The control hub doors buckled under another wave of soldiers. Alexei slammed one aside before grabbing Melina’s arm as she finished pulling a final line of code.

“Time to go,” he barked.

They sprinted down the corridor, alarms screaming over their heads. The fortress shuddered again, tilting under their boots as the Red Room fought to hold itself steady.

“Melina! Stay there! Drop to the ground, quick!” one of the soldiers shouted, his rifle raised.

Melina didn’t even slow down; she raised her hand with her grenade launcher and fired at the engine; her tone was ice. “Precisely what I was thinking.”

Alexei barreled into them before the man could react, a roar tearing out of his chest as bodies scattered like bowling pins. Screams echoed down the steel hall.

Melina keyed her comm, voice calm despite the chaos. “Slight change of plan. I completely demolished one of the engines. We are going into a controlled crash.”

The channel crackled with Yelena’s voice, strained and breathless, feet pounding as she ran. “Fantastic. We’re heading to the Widows now.”

Alexei shoved another soldier over the railing, grinning despite the madness. “Controlled crash? That doesn’t sound controlled at all!”

Melina’s eyes narrowed, already guiding him down the next junction toward the engine room. “You got any better idea?”

Alexei paused before replying. “No.”

“Exactly.”

The floor lurched beneath them as the Red Room began its descent.

Blood dripped from Dreykov’s nose, his smug grin long gone. Natasha’s fists came down again, snapping his head back, the desk rattling under the weight of the blows.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” she spat, driving her knuckles into his face again. “You took my childhood. You took my choices. You tried to break me.”

She leaned in close, breath heaving, eyes blazing. “But you’re never gonna do that to anybody ever again.”

Dreykov screamed as she struck, the sound twisting into fury. His palm slammed a console beside him.

The doors then burst open.

A dark tide of Widows poured into the room, their boots hammering the steel floor in a relentless, synchronized rhythm. Their eyes were blank, glassy, and their faces were devoid of any flicker of emotion or choice.

They were a swarm, a chilling, silent wave of assassins, all moving with a single, programmed purpose.

Dreykov staggered upright, blood streaking his lip. “Nobody leaves this room until she’s dead!” His voice cracked with rage, then steadied into venom. “Make her suffer.”

The circle closed around her.

Natasha’s chest rose and fell, sweat and blood streaking her brow. She shook her head, backing a step.

“I don’t want to hurt you. And you don’t want to hurt me.” Her voice softened, almost pleading. Her gaze darted from face to face. “This is all him.”

The first Widow lunged.

The three of them burst into the training sector, their momentum carrying them headlong into the new space. The metal doors hissed shut behind them with a low, mechanical groan, sealing off the sounds of their pursuit.

Rows of mats, bunks, and weapons racks stretched out in perfect, unnatural stillness. 

Wanda froze mid-step. The silence was wrong, a heavy, dead thing that smothered the very air. This place should've been alive with the sharp echo of boots and the crack of whips. Instead, the air was hollow, as if the room itself were holding its breath, waiting.

"They're not here," Yelena blurted out on the comms, a note of confused urgency in her voice as her eyes darted toward the door.

The comms crackled, then Natasha's voice bled through, ragged and strained, each word punctuated by a sharp grunt. "—all of them—" Another punchy grunt. "They're all on me."

Yelena skidded to a stop, her chest heaving, the dead weight of the case dragging her arm to the floor. Her face blanched as the truth set in. "They're all with Natasha."

Then an alarm blared around them.

Wanda didn’t hesitate as soon as she heard it. Rage flared, her chaos burning so hot it warped the very air. She thrust both hands forward, and the sealed bulkhead ahead screamed as metal twisted and glowed red before tearing apart in a thunderous blast. Shards of steel clanged down like molten rain. 

“Now, we’re talking,” Pietro grinned despite the chaos. “You into speed?”

Yelena's glare was sharp, deadpan even as her pulse thundered against her ribs. “Not really.”

In a blink, Pietro was beside her, his hand gentle as it gripped the back of her neck. “Close your eyes.”

The next instant, the world shattered into a dizzying blur. Pietro dragged Yelena into a storm of silver lightning, Wanda’s chaos magic wrapping tight around them like a protective shield, as they pummel through walls. The Red Room corridors smeared past in streaks of steel and shadow, a violent, chaotic blur that felt both terrifying and unbelievably fast.

Natasha’s voice still echoed through comms in Wanda’s ears when the doors burst into view. 

She didn’t think—she just hurled both hands forward, scarlet tearing through the reinforced steel apart in a shriek of molten shards. Pietro darted through the breach first, Yelena on his heels with the case clutched tight.

The sight inside stopped Wanda cold.

Natasha was buried under a storm of bodies, her arms raised, fists blocking blow after blow. The Widows swarmed her in silence, their faces blank, their movements merciless. She staggered, already slowing, her lips bloody, her breath ragged.

“Now!” Yelena shouted.

She hurled the case down with every ounce of strength left in her. Glass exploded against the floor, vials shattering, crimson mist rushing out in a choking wave.

Wanda’s magic caught it instantly, threads of scarlet weaving into the cloud, pulling the antidote high into the air. With a sharp twist of her wrist, she sent it rolling across the room in a sweeping tide.

The Widows froze. Their strikes faltered mid-motion. One by one, they staggered back, clutching their heads, gasps and cries breaking through the silence as the fog overtook them.

Natasha collapsed to her knees, chest heaving, eyes wild as she watched the change ripple through the women who had been moments from killing her. Relief cut through Wanda’s chest like a blade.

The last of the mist settled. The Widows blinked in confusion, their faces breaking into horror, then realization. They weren’t soldiers anymore.

And Taskmaster hadn’t yet caught up.

Yelena staggered sideways, clutching the wall, still catching her breath from Pietro’s grip. “Remind me never to do that again,” she groaned. “It’s official, speed is not for me unless I’m the one in control.”

Wanda pressed her lips together, fighting the tug of a smirk. “You handled it better than most.”

Pietro leaned casually against the bulkhead, still grinning despite the chaos. “See? First-timer, survived it. You’re welcome.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Natasha pushed herself up from the floor, blood still streaking her face. Without a word, she staggered to the console, fingers already flying across the keys. The screen glowed back at her, lines of code spilling as she began the download of the Black Widow files.

The freed Widows lingered in shock, staring at their hands, their surroundings, at nothing at all. Yelena moved among them, murmuring and grounding them. Pietro crouched beside one woman, following Yelena’s actions, his expression unusually gentle.

Wanda slipped closer to Natasha, her voice low. “Are you alright?”

Natasha didn’t look up, her tone dry but steady. “I’ve had worse.”

Scarlet light, usually a menacing crackle that promised destruction, shimmered with an almost tender glow between Wanda's fingers.  She lifted a hand, letting her magic flow, gently knitting the cartilage of Natasha’s broken nose back into place with a warm, tingling sensation. Natasha winced briefly, a sharp gasp escaping her lips, then exhaled as the pain finally ebbed away.

Their eyes caught for the briefest moment, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. Both knew they needed to talk, but now wasn't the time. The understanding hung in the air between them, a fragile, unspoken promise.

Natasha’s fingers flew over the console, then suddenly she stopped, her shoulders going rigid. Her voice dropped, low and rough, as if the words were pulled from a deep, long-buried wound. “The child I thought I killed… she’s alive. Antonia. Dreykov’s daughter. He turned her into the Taskmaster.”

Wanda froze, her heart clenching. For a beat, she had no words. Then she stepped closer, her scarlet glow dimming as she reached to brush Natasha’s arm. “Nat… that wasn’t your fault. He did that to her.”

“If there’s a chance that we could free her…”Natasha whispered to herself, but Wanda heard it.

Natasha didn’t look up, her jaw clenched, the weight of it pressing her down.

Pietro, watching from the side, saw the haunted look in her eyes. His grin sparked, sharp, shattering the heavy silence.

“Would you look at that? The Red Room Sisters reunion act! Back on tour. The crowd’s loving it.”

Yelena groaned, but a flicker of amusement betrayed her. “Shut up.”

Pietro raised his hands innocently. “And hey, branding’s everything. Hydra Band featuring the Red Room Sisters? Now that’s a tour people would kill for.”

Yelena snorted despite herself, joining in when she noticed Natasha. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Pietro said, grinning wider, “but shame our drummer’s busy doing his own thing. Don’t worry—the frontwoman already told him to start practicing. Big tour coming up.” He tilted his chin toward Wanda.

“Pietro…” Wanda muttered, exasperated, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

Natasha smirked sideways at Wanda, her voice dry. “Don’t tell me he’s on his imaginary band tour again.” The haunted look flickered back into steel. Her fingers flew to the keys again.

Wanda groaned under her breath. “You know how he is.”

Pietro planted his fists on his hips, his expression mock-serious. “Alright, Sisters—if you want longevity, you gotta know when to cut ties with upper management. This label’s toxic.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, but a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. Natasha, her expression a mix of exasperation, simply shook her head and refocused on the files.

Pietro carried on, undeterred. “Go indie if you want—but Maximoff Records can sign you too. Family-owned, very exclusive.” He winked at Natasha.

Natasha cut him a glare without pausing her typing. Wanda groaned harder and leaned into Natasha’s shoulder, silently asking if she was uncomfortable. Natasha didn’t react outwardly, but pressed her shoulder back against Wanda’s.

“Hey, if you go independent, that’s fine,” Pietro added with a shrug. “Either way, Romanoff, you’re getting the Maximoff name in the deal—since you’re already dating the headliner.”

Yelena barked out a laugh, sharp and delighted. She pointed at Natasha without hesitation. “Finally, someone said it! All this time you’ve been pretending to be the serious one, the untouchable Avenger—meanwhile you’re sitting here blushing like a teenager because your girlfriend’s brother called you out.”

Natasha’s glare snapped to her sister, but the red on her cheekbones gave her away.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Yelena pressed, grinning widely. “You can dodge bullets, Nat, but apparently not Maximoff jokes. I knew something was going on—should’ve guessed it would take Pietro to say it out loud.”

Natasha’s fingers never stopped typing, but her exasperated sigh was loud enough to earn another laugh from Yelena.

“Pietro…” Wanda buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled with embarrassment.

“Relax,” Pietro said, grinning. “Maximoff Records doesn’t enforce fan service if the talent’s not into it. We respect artistic freedom. But come on… the chemistry markets itself.”

Yelena barked out a laugh, delighted. She sidled closer to Pietro, lowering her voice just enough to sound like she was sharing a secret, though every syllable was meant to hit Natasha.

“You know what the problem is with my sister?” she said, eyes gleaming. “She has so many feelings. All bottled up. It is like… emotional constipation.”

Pietro snorted, egging her on.

Yelena leaned her elbows against the console, smirking. “She pretends to be this cold, unshakable Avenger. But give her one Maximoff, and suddenly she is… how do you say? A complete gay disaster.”

Natasha’s fingers clattered furiously against the keys, her glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Yelena.”

Yelena’s grin widened. “See? That is what I am talking about. Very tense. Very… romantic. Honestly, it is disgusting. Hard to focus on my spy work with all this tension.”

Wanda groaned, rubbing her face with her hands, ears hot with embarrassment. Pietro’s grin only widened.

Natasha muttered something under her breath, her jaw tight. But Wanda, seeing the strain in her shoulders, slid closer and pressed against her side. Her arm brushed Natasha’s waist in a quiet, grounding gesture. Natasha didn’t react outwardly, but after a second, she leaned slightly into Wanda’s touch, her tension easing by a fraction.

Yelena’s smirk faded as quickly as it had come when the comms crackled alive.

“Girls, do you copy?” Melina’s voice, sharp under the strain of gunfire.

Pietro muttered under his breath, “I’m here too, you know…”

Yelena rolled her eyes but answered anyway, her tone snapping into clipped precision. “We hear you. We have Natasha. Antidote’s deployed. She’s pulling the files now.”

Melina’s reply came ragged, words forced between bursts of gunfire and the shriek of tearing metal. “Good. You’ve deployed the antidote? Then listen to me carefully— the young sector is open. The locks failed when I sabotaged the engines. The Red Room is destabilizing from the inside out. If you stay together, you’ll be buried with it.”

Another shot rang close to her comm, making her voice break with static. “We don’t have much time. Split up. Cover more ground before this whole place comes down on our heads. Do you hear me? Split up before it’s too late.”

The control room fell into a tense silence. The freed Widows glanced at one another, fear cutting through their confusion. Wanda felt her chest tighten, scarlet heat coiling at her fingertips. Natasha’s fingers never left the console keys, but her jaw locked. Yelena swore softly under her breath.

Melina’s voice fizzled out under static, leaving only the alarm’s shriek and the Red Room’s deep, metallic groan as it began to list.

Natasha didn’t look up from the console, her jaw clenched tight. “She’s right. We can’t stay together. Yelena, you and I will—”

The steel doors behind them screeched.

The chamber shuddered with a deafening BOOM as the reinforced doors ripped inward. Steel screeched against steel, sparks flying as Taskmaster smashed back into the room. The assassin came charging through the smoke, visor glowing in the strobing red of the alarms, blade dragging a long scar across the floor before snapping up into a killing stance.

Wanda’s pulse snapped hot. “She’s here.”

The freed Widows scattered back in fear. Pietro blurred into position beside Yelena, silver crackling in his wake. Wanda’s hands were already alive with scarlet light, her power spilling into the air in a low, dangerous hum.

Natasha didn’t flinch. Her fingers kept hammering across the console, the download bar crawling maddeningly slow. “I’ve got the files,” she let out, her voice steady over the chaos. “Go!”

There’s no time to think. “We split. Wanda—young sector. Pietro—get the freed Widows out.”

For a split second, Wanda felt the weight of it all pressing down—the alarms, the heat of her magic.

Then everyone moved at once.

Wanda’s chest clenched, but she nodded, scarlet already flaring hot in her hands.

Pietro gave a quick nod, silver crackling at his boots as he blurred toward the frightened women. “On it!”

Taskmaster lunged.

The control room exploded into motion.

“And me?” Yelena demanded.

“Stall her.” Natasha’s gaze flicked to her sister, still locked on the console. “I’ll join you once it’s downloading.”

Sparks flared as Taskmaster raised her shield, bullets ricocheting harmlessly. The mimic advanced step by step, movements seamless, her stance a mirror of Natasha’s own brutal efficiency. A shield slam, a pivot, the kind of precision only years of watching could hone. Yelena backpedaled, teeth gritted, buying seconds where there were none.

Scarlet flared in Wanda’s hands, hot and furious, begging to be unleashed. She wanted nothing more than to blast Taskmaster into the far wall and tear the Red Room apart beam by beam.

But Natasha’s plea came to mind—of her wanting to save this woman—Melina’s warning echoed sharply in her head—that the young sector was open. Girls too young to fight. Girls who had no chance unless they got there first.

Her heart twisted, but she knew her path. Natasha and Yelena would last long against Taskmaster, but those children wouldn’t last at all.

Scarlet light surged at Wanda’s palms, but Natasha’s command still rang in her ears. She forced herself back toward the door, the words raw in her throat. “Don’t die on me.”

Natasha’s lips tightened, but her hands never left the keyboard. “Wasn’t planning to.”

That was enough.

Wanda’s breath caught—then she bolted, crimson energy blazing behind her as she tore out of the chamber. The clash of steel and gunfire exploded behind her as Taskmaster struck and Yelena met her head-on, while Natasha kept typing, forcing the files free one keystroke at a time.

The dormitory rattled under the strain of the collapsing fortress. Rows of bunks swayed, and frightened eyes stared at her from the shadows. The girls here weren’t under chemical control yet — no blank stares, no puppet strings — but fear had hollowed them out just the same. Terrified. Traumatized. Waiting for the next command that would never come.

Wanda’s breath hitched when she saw her. The same girl she had freed before, the one the other widows had dragged away in the chaos before — alive. Bruised, shaken, but alive.

And now, impossibly, the girl had stepped forward, placing herself in front of the younger children, arms spread as if her small body could shield them all.

Wanda’s chest tightened. She lowered her hands, scarlet dimming to a gentle pulse. “It’s me. I’m not here to hurt you,” she said softly, voice thick with urgency. “I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”

The girls flinched as another tremor shook the room, plaster and sparks raining from the ceiling. Wanda swept her arms wide, her chaos magic forming a glowing dome above them. The scarlet light pulsed, folding into a portal that rippled open. Through it shone warm lamplight, weathered wood, and the quiet calm of her Sokovia cabin.

Gasps broke from the children. The young girl she had freed before stared in awe.

Wanda crouched to her, pressing a hand to her shoulder. “Lead them through. Watch over them. I need you to watch them until I return.”

The girl’s lip trembled, her voice small but breaking with fear. “Someone will come for us again… won’t they? Are we really safe?” Paranoia lingered in her wide eyes, the kind that never leaves when the world has already broken you once.

Wanda swallowed hard, forcing her voice to steady. She brushed the girl’s cheek with a thumb, soft and deliberate. “No one will touch you there. Not while you’re in my home. But right now, I need you to be strong — for them.”

The girl’s eyes welled, but she nodded, straightening with a small, fierce resolve as she turned to the others.

One by one, the girls stepped through the scarlet light. Wanda followed last, her magic still tethered to the portal as she ushered them into the cabin. The warm lamplight spilled over their pale faces, the smell of wood smoke and herbs filling the air.

They huddled together in the living room, their eyes darting to the windows as though expecting Dreykov’s men to burst through. Wanda knelt in the center of the group, scarlet weaving gently from her fingers. Food shimmered into existence—bread still warm, a pot of stew steaming softly on the table. Coats and blankets appeared draped across the backs of chairs, sturdy boots tucked neatly against the wall.

The girls stared, hesitant at first, until hunger won out. Small hands reached for bread. A few tugged blankets tight around their thin shoulders.

Then came the pleas.

A little voice, wavering. “I want my mama.”

Another chimed in, tearful. “I want to go home.”

Wanda’s heart ached. She swallowed hard, blinking back the burn in her eyes. She smoothed a hand over the first girl’s hair, her voice trembling but steady. “I don’t know where they are. Here… here, you’re safe for now. But right now, I need to go back to the others. I will be back, I promise — no one will take you from this place.”

With a flick of her wrist, scarlet sealed over the cabin like an unseen dome. The air hummed with protective wards, her magic anchoring deep into the walls and windows, woven into every floorboard. She had made this place safe for herself once. Now, it was for them.

She stood, brushing her palms down her thighs, her voice stronger now. “Stay here. Rest. Eat. You are free.” Her gaze swept across their frightened faces. “I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

The young girl she had saved before gave a solemn nod, stepping into the role Wanda had asked of her, already gathering the younger ones to sit close.

Wanda drew one last breath, then let the scarlet ripple shut, the cabin’s glow vanishing into silence.

Alone again in the collapsing Red Room, she flexed her fingers. The gentleness was gone, replaced by fire.

Time to fight.

Silver lightning streaked through the collapsing corridors as Pietro blurred past flickering lights and falling beams, ferrying the freed Widows in waves. Each run, he snatched two, sometimes three, dragging them through the chaos before dropping them in the hangar where the jet waited. Their startled cries blurred into one as the world smeared by.

“Maximoff Airlines,” Pietro called over the rush of wind, grinning through the panic as he darted around a collapsing bulkhead, “Boarding group one! No refunds!”

“Next stop—freedom! Calling for boarding group two!”

The women stumbled out of his grip, gasping, their panic breaking into questions. “Where do we go? Who tells us what to do?”

Pietro hesitated, just for a second, the weight of it freezing him mid-breath. He didn’t have an answer for them.

On his next run back through the Red Room, he caught a glimpse of the control hub. Sparks rained down as Yelena slammed her boot into Taskmaster’s chest, buying inches as the mimic surged back with Natasha’s own moves. Yelena fired point-blank; Taskmaster’s shield caught the rounds with brutal precision.

Natasha hunched over the console, her fingers flying, the download bar crawling forward at a torturous pace. Her jaw was set, her body coiled tight with focus. She didn’t even flinch when Taskmaster’s blade carved into the wall a foot from her.

“Stall her, Yelena!” Natasha barked, her voice strained but steady.

“I’m trying!” Yelena growled, blocking another swing, her knives and pistols sparking against Taskmaster’s armor.

Pietro didn’t slow. He darted past, scooping another Widow under each arm, dragging them away from the storm. Back in the hangar, he skidded to a halt, dropping them with the rest as Melina and Alexei pushed soldiers back, cutting down soldiers in a storm of bullets and brute force.

The same questions Pietro heard earlier were repeated. Melina has answers this time.

Melina’s voice rang out, sharp and unwavering, over the chaos. “First, we fight and bring this place down. Then—go. Scatter. You are free now. Choose for yourselves!”

The words seemed to ground them. Slowly, the Widows began filing into the jet, hesitation giving way to motion.

Melina spun to him, her voice cutting through the gunfire. “The black box! If it burns, everything goes with it. Go!”

Pietro frowned. “Wait, what? Natasha’s already pulling the files.”

“Not all of them,” Melina snapped, firing another round into a soldier who broke through. “Natasha’s console has only the Black Widow network files. Dreykov kept the operative archives separate. The black box is every Red Room file, every operation. If it burns, we lose everything. Go!”

Pietro straightened, breath sharp in his chest. “Great. Where exactly am I supposed to find this magic box of yours?”

Melina didn’t miss a beat, firing a round into the corridor to cover Alexei. “Secondary archive chamber, north wing. Level three. Look for the reinforced vault—Dreykov never trusted anyone else with it.”

Pietro gave a low whistle. “Vault. Of course it’s a vault.” He smirked despite the chaos, silver already sparking at his boots. “Alright, mama spy. Point me north.”

Alexei slammed a soldier to the floor with a grunt, then pointed toward the corridor. “We’ll hold the line. Go, fast boy.”

Pietro clenched his jaw, then nodded once. “Fine. But if this box weighs more than I do, you’re carrying it next time.”

“I’ll try to patch you an access—”

But in a silver blur, he was gone, streaking deeper into the collapsing fortress to retrieve the black box drive before she could finish.

Melina exhaled hard, shaking her head. “He never listens.”

Inside the fortress, Pietro blurred through collapsing halls, weaving past falling girders and bursts of fire. The “reinforced vault” loomed at the end of the corridor, its steel doors sealed tight, biometric locks glowing red.

He grinned. “Cute.”

Without breaking stride, he phased straight through the vault door, the world stretching around him in a silver ripple.

On the other side, the chamber was pristine, untouched by the chaos ripping the rest of the Red Room apart. A single console pulsed in the dark, a black box drive resting in the center like a relic.

Pietro plucked it up, turning it in his hands. “Really? All that security for a jewelry box? Bet it doesn’t even come with a warranty.”

He tucked it carefully under his arm, smirking to himself. “Fine. Fragile cargo. Maximoff Airlines will handle it.”

Then he was gone again, streaking back toward the hangar in a blur of silver.

The console let out a final sharp beep as the download finished. On the screen, the words flashed complete. 

FILE TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL

Natasha yanked the drive free and shoved it into her belt, the weight of it grounding her.

Behind her, the clash of steel roared. Yelena staggered back under Taskmaster’s relentless assault. Sparks sprayed as the mimic’s blade carved the floor inches from her, shield slamming forward with a copy of Natasha’s own brutal rhythm. Yelena’s guard faltered.

“Yelena!” Natasha lunged, blocking the downswing with her baton. The impact rattled her bones, but she held, twisting hard to shove Taskmaster off balance. The two sisters moved together instinctively — pistols and batons striking in tandem, each blow buying the other seconds.

The Red Room screamed around them, the floor tilting violently as the engines failed. Ceiling beams split, sparks and fire raining down.

“We gotta get outta here!” Yelena shouted over the alarms, breath ragged. “We need to find Dreykov. Are you coming?”

Natasha nodded once, sharp and wordless. Together they broke from the fight, sprinting for the hangar as the fortress began its free-fall.

Taskmaster crashed through the corridor wall, cutting them off.

Yelena spun, pistols snapping up. “Go! Get him!” she barked, throwing herself at the armored figure with reckless precision. Bullets sparked, knives flashing as Taskmaster mirrored every move. Yelena pressed in closer, forcing the mimic to focus only on her.

Natasha didn’t waste it.

She cut through the crumbling corridors, striking down soldiers as she went. Her body moved on instinct — block, strike, break — every ounce of her fury driving her forward.

The hangar groaned, fire raining down as the Red Room tore itself apart. Natasha stalked forward, knife in hand, her silhouette framed by fire.

Dreykov scrambled into the jet, slamming switches with frantic hands, barking orders to men who weren’t there. The engines sputtered, coughing smoke. He smacked the console, eyes wild. “Fly, damn you—fly!”

Natasha stormed up the ramp, watching him thrash. A grim smile cut her face. “You don’t even know how to fly it.” She stalked forward, her tone low, merciless. “See? You’re nothing without your girls. You’re weak.”

She ripped him from the cockpit and slammed him against the fuselage. The knife in her hand gleamed in the firelight, steady as steel.

“You think you’ve won?” he rasped, still trying to muster arrogance. “Kill me, and another will rise. My work lives in every girl I created.” He choked out, fear cracking through the arrogance at last.

Her voice sharpened. “You didn’t create them. You broke them. And you don’t get to break anyone else.”

He thrashed, desperation overtaking him. “Please! We can make a deal. I can give you more than they ever could—”

She cut him off with a savage twist, throwing him to the deck. He scrambled back, but the floor heaved under them, sparks raining as the hangar groaned in its death throes.

Desperation cracked through him. He lifted trembling hands, words spilling fast. “Wait—listen! We can bargain. I can give you anything—money, power, a place at my side. Control of nations. Rule the world with me!”

Natasha pressed the blade to his throat, the steel biting deep enough to draw blood. Her voice was flat, final. “You’re just another red in my ledger…” She shoved harder, eyes burning. “…but this one, I don’t regret.”

She leaned closer, her words a whisper of ice. “This is the child you raised, Dreykov. I’m just confirming my kill this time.”

The knife slid across his neck, a spray of red spilling down his chest. His scream tore out, guttural and weak. He clawed at her arm, but Natasha didn’t falter.

She drove the blade into his chest. Then lower, gut. Again, between ribs. Each strike precise, each wound deliberate, methodical — as though she was erasing every scar he had carved into her life. He convulsed, choking, until she buried the knife through his heart and ended him.

Dreykov collapsed against the fuselage, smearing blood as his body fell limp at her feet. 

Twitching once. Then still.

Natasha stood over him, knife dripping, chest heaving. Her hands trembled now — but not when it counted.

For the first time in years, tears streaked freely in her face. Silent. Hot. No sobs, no sound. Just the quiet grief of a woman who had finally killed the man who made her.

Then, with a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent the blood spattering from the blade. Her expression shifted, smoothing back into the cold mask the world always knew. No trace of the tears. No trace of weakness.

Dreykov was gone.

Natasha let herself breathe.

The world was upside down.

Wanda burst back into the Red Room just as the fortress tore free from the sky, plummeting in a firestorm. Corridors split apart, walls sheared open, and whole steel beams ripped loose to spin through the clouds. The shriek of tearing metal drowned out everything, the wind a constant roar. The floor bucked violently under her boots, alarms shrieking as the fortress split apart in the sky. Debris rained down — shards of steel, broken glass, flames whipping in the gale. 

Gravity shifted sickeningly as whole corridors ripped loose, tumoring past the windows into the clouds below.

She reeled at the sudden drop, disoriented, her stomach lurching as gravity yanked her down. Instinct flared, and her scarlet magic flared around her, holding her aloft, stabilizing her mid-air. She spread her arms wide, catching herself in a ragged hover.

Her gaze whipped across the chaos, hunting desperately. Pietro. Natasha. Yelena.

Something silver tumbled past her with a blur of motion and a string of panicked words

“Uh, Wanda? Little help? Maximoff Airlines isn’t rated for freefall with cargo!”

Her eyes locked on Pietro, spinning helplessly through the storm of debris, using falling structures to run against his fall, clutching a small black box tight against his chest.

“Why don’t you have a parachute?!” Wanda shouted, diving after him.

“Because I was busy saving the homework and forgot to pack one?!” he yelled back, clutching the box tighter. “Fragile cargo here, by the way!”

Wanda snarled a breath, thrusting her hands forward. Scarlet magic flared, shaping itself into a chute of pure energy. It slammed into his chest and snapped open, jerking him hard as she yanked the tether with a twist of her wrist.

Pietro jolted to a stop, stabilizing in the wind with a ragged laugh. “Thanks, Wanda! I like speed, but not when I’m racing to the ground!”

Wanda hovered above, chest heaving, scanning the falling wreckage below. Natasha and Yelena were still out there — and Taskmaster was somewhere in the storm.

Wind tore at her face, howling in her ears as the Red Room disintegrated above. Natasha plummeted through the storm of fire and steel, eyes locked on two figures spiraling below. 

Yelena was locked in a desperate grapple with Taskmaster, and she doesn’t have a chute.

Natasha tucked her body, angling down. The wind hammered her ribs, but she forced herself faster, slicing through the fall until she collided into the fray. She slammed into Yelena’s back, fumbling at her harness—then shoved her own parachute over her sister’s shoulders.

“Natasha—what—” Yelena twisted in shock, still clawing at Taskmaster’s gauntlet.

Natasha didn’t answer. She yanked the ripcord herself. The chute snapped open, jerking Yelena upward in a violent pull, dragging her clear of the assassin.

“Natasha!” Yelena’s scream tore through the wind, spinning helplessly upward, her wide eyes burning with panic.

Natasha didn’t look back. She and Taskmaster were already tumbling away, locked together in a brutal free-fall duel, fists and blades flashing against the endless sky.

Wanda steadied herself against the wind, her scarlet glow flickering in the storm.

Then she heard it. A raw, panicked scream that cut through the roar.

“Natasha!”

Her head snapped toward the sound. Yelena spun upward under the sudden jerk of a parachute, her voice carried ragged through the gale. Wanda’s stomach twisted.

Below her, two figures still fell locked together—Natasha and Taskmaster, fists and blades colliding mid-air in a storm of violence.

Scarlet light crackled at Wanda’s hands as she muttered, half in disbelief, half in fury, “Why does no one have a parachute?!”

Without another breath, she pitched herself downward, streaking after them, crimson flames tearing through the sky.

The sky burned around her, wreckage streaking past as Natasha dropped through open air.

A dark blur cut through the chaos, hurtling straight for her. Taskmaster. Antonia.

Natasha didn’t run. She didn’t flail. She twisted her body, angling her descent, and stilled. She dropped into that familiar three-point landing stance — the infamous pose — only this time she struck it in mid-air, bracing herself against a falling structure sliding down through the wind. Arms wide, knees bent, head lowered, as though she were waiting.

She was waiting.

Taskmaster slammed into her, just as Natasha knew she would. Blades slashed, fists flew — every strike mirrored, every move Natasha had ever used thrown back at her with terrifying precision. But Natasha’s hands clawed at the assassin’s harness, searching, finding.

There.

With a hard yank, she pulled the cord.

The parachute burst open above them with a violent crack, canvas snapping wide, their bodies wrenched upright. The fall slowed, brutal but survivable.

For a second, Natasha almost smiled. The plan worked.

Then Taskmaster tilted her head, calm, calculating. A blade snapped up, cutting the cords clean. The chute shredded away into the clouds.

They plunged again, harder than before, Natasha locked in the assassin’s vice grip. No leverage. No escape as the ground screamed closer.

And that’s when scarlet tendrils seared upward from below, blazing through the storm. Wanda’s magic wrapped them both, halting the fatal fall in an explosion of red light.

Taskmaster slammed into the dirt with a brutal crash, pinned under Wanda’s crackling grip. Natasha rolled free, lungs burning, her body trembling, but alive.

Above her, Wanda hovered, eyes blazing with fury. “I clearly remember you saying that you weren’t planning on dying?”

Natasha let out a ragged breath, the corner of her mouth tugging in something that almost resembled a laugh. Short. Relieved.

“What can I say? Improvising’s my thing,” she rasped as she smirked freely up at Wanda. “But yeah, you’re right. Dying by falling has never been my style.”

Wanda’s breath caught. For a moment, she just looked at Natasha — a long, heavy look full of worry, frustration, and something else she didn’t voice. Natasha held her gaze, the corner of her mouth twitching in that tired smirk.

Then Natasha’s gaze snapped back to Taskmaster. Taskmaster strained, arms jerking against the scarlet bindings, but Wanda pressed harder. The visor retracted with a hiss, revealing scarred skin, hollowed eyes. The assassin stilled, unable to move.

Natasha staggered closer, pulling a red vial from her belt. She smashed it against the ground near Taskmaster’s face, the glass splintering as the red mist hissed into the air.

The hiss of the vial was sharp in the air. Taskmaster jerked once, then fell limp against Wanda’s hold. 

Antonia gasped, the fog flooding her lungs. She choked once, then her body sagged. Antonia blinked slowly, the haze lifting for the first time. Her lips parted, voice fragile, uncertain. “Is he… dead?”

Natasha’s chest tightened. She forced her voice steady, though it trembled at the edges. “Yes. He’s gone. I’m sorry… for everything.”

Antonia exhaled, the fight draining from her, her gaze sliding away into exhaustion.

Natasha stayed crouched, her hand hovering near Antonia’s cheek but never quite touching, her heart heavy as the ground quaked beneath them.

The fight, finally, was over.

Natasha rose shakily to her feet, scanning the wreckage. Her heart hammered, panic clawing in her throat. “Yelena! Yelena!”

For a beat, only the groan of twisted metal answered her. Then—

“Up here!”

Natasha spun, eyes searching until she saw her sister dangling upside down from the wreck of a collapsed strut, her parachute lines tangled around the steel. Yelena’s hair hung loose, her arms folded, her voice dry even with blood on her lip.

“We’re both upside down,” she muttered. “Just like when we were young.”

Natasha’s breath left her in a ragged laugh, half a sob, half relief. Dust streaked across her jaw, her braid torn loose, but her eyes burned with the same fire that had carried her through every blow.

For a second, Natasha could almost see the child she had once left behind, staring back at her through those eyes — waiting for an answer that had never come.

“Прости меня, сестрёнка,” Natasha said quietly, the words tearing out of her before she could stop them. “I should have come back for you.” [Russian: Forgive me, little sister.]

Yelena froze, caught between disbelief and the ache she tried so hard to hide. Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line to stop it from trembling.

“You don’t have to say that.”

Natasha stepped closer, dust swirling around them, the wreckage of their landing still settling into silence. Natasha dropped her head against Yelena’s forehead. Her voice broke softer this time, raw with the truth she’d carried for years.

Her voice cracked as she called, “Back at the house… when you said it was real? You were right. It was real to me, too.”

Yelena blinked, her expression softening, upside-down tears sliding toward her hairline. For once, she didn’t have a comeback.

For a moment neither moved. The world was still — just two sisters standing in the aftermath, tethered not by blood, but by the stubborn bond neither of them could erase.

Yelena’s eyes flicked past Natasha, toward Wanda standing a few paces back, still glowing faintly red with exhaustion. Wanda met her gaze, then gave a small, knowing nod — the kind that said See? I told you so.

A faint smile curved Wanda’s lips, warm despite the ruin all around them.

Yelena let out a shaky laugh, a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. For the first time, she believed it.

Above them, a flailing figure cut through the sky, his chute spinning like a broken top. Pietro’s voice echoed down, indignant and loud over the wind.

“Stage crew’s gotta stop dropping set pieces on me! Even the set back in the Avengers compound wasn’t this messy!”

Natasha pinched her eyes shut with a sigh. Yelena snorted despite herself. Wanda groaned, dragging a hand over her face.

“Pietro, stop spinning your chute.”

He hit the ground in a graceless roll, skidding through dirt and debris, but somehow landed on his feet. The black box was still tucked under his arm like a prized trophy.

With a theatrical flourish, Pietro unbuckled his parachute, letting it fall in a heap, and gave a mock bow. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the show. No encore for this one.”

Wanda shook her head, exhaustion etched in every line of her face. Yet despite herself, a faint smile tugged at her lips.

From the smoke and ruin beyond, figures began to emerge. Melina, bloodied but unbroken, limped forward with Alexei bracing her side. Behind them, the freed Widows staggered into view — battered, scorched by fire and debris, but alive.

For the first time since the storm began, all of them stood on the same ground.

Survivors.

Pietro set the small black box on the table of the safehouse, its surface scorched from the wreckage. He dusted soot from his sleeve with a flourish.

“Fragile cargo, delivered,” he said, mock-serious, though his eyes lingered on it with quiet pride.

Natasha approached, her gaze locked on the box. She laid her palms flat against its cool surface. It wasn’t victory she felt — not yet. It was a responsibility. Inside lay every secret Dreykov had hoarded, every file, every operative, every crime. Proof that the world would have to face. Proof she would make them face.

“We’ll use this,” Natasha murmured. Her voice was steady, but Wanda could hear the exhaustion behind it. “Not for vengeance. For justice.”

Pietro leaned back, smirking. “I don’t know, Nat. I thought smashing creepy empires was the fun part.”

Natasha allowed the faintest smile. “Sometimes the hard part comes after.”

Scarlet light bloomed as Wanda opened the portal to her cabin. The young Widows gasped, eyes wide, until they saw her step through. They crowded closer, relief washing through their faces.

Wanda dropped to her knees among them, the magic softening at her fingertips. She conjured loaves of bread, bowls of stew, blankets that folded themselves neatly across small shoulders. Some of the girls clung to her, their thin arms trembling.

“It’s alright,” Wanda whispered. “You’re safe here.”

One girl tugged at her sleeve, eyes wet. “Will… will someone come for us?”

The question pierced her. Wanda gathered the girl close, smoothing her hair with careful fingers. “Yes. No one will take you again. You’ll see your families. I promise.”

Later, in the quiet of the night, Natasha stood on the cabin landing, a phone pressed to her ear. “Tony,” she said when he picked up, her tone all business, though her throat tightened. “I need a favor. Pepper too. There are girls — children who need to be sent home. Back to their families.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then Tony’s voice, uncharacteristically gentle. “Say no more. We’ll make it happen.”

Natasha closed her eyes, the knot in her chest loosening for the first time. “Thank you.”

The sun shone through the branches of a cherry blossom tree, the petals drifting in slow arcs toward the earth.

Yelena stood at its base, her hand resting lightly on the cold, weathered stone. The first name had faded with time and weather, but the name Romanoff stood clear, etched into the granite like a promise.

She bent her head, then let out a low, piercing whistle. The sound carried across the quiet grove.

A pause — then another whistle answered. Yelena lifted her gaze, blinking fast as Natasha stepped into view, Wanda beside her, Pietro at her shoulder.

Natasha’s steps slowed when she saw Yelena. She said nothing, only closed the distance until they stood side by side before the grave.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. Wanda’s hand brushed Natasha’s back lightly, Pietro standing just close enough to touch Yelena’s shoulder. The four of them faced the grave together, the petals drifting like snow.

Survivors. Family, found and chosen.

Then Pietro cleared his throat, glancing between the three women. “So… what do we call this group now? Hydra Band featuring the Red Room Sisters was already a mouthful.”

“Really? In my mother's grave?” Natasha shot him a flat look, but an amused smirk twitched and formed on her lips.

Yelena snorted despite herself.

Wanda pressed her hand to her face, muttering, “Pietro…” — but her lips curved into an exasperated smile.

For the first time in too long, laughter brushed the edges of grief, and the sun felt warm.