Chapter 1
After the events with Ultron, Wanda was grieving and confused. She didn't know what to do with herself. She wasn’t fully aware of how her powers worked and what damage they could do. The despair and discomfort that this poor young girl had felt constantly, it felt like one massive knife carving out an already hollow wound.
“Wanda?” A voice worries, waking Wanda up. “Natasha?” The voice was definitely hers. It was deep, raspy, and yet also comforting. “Goodmorning, sleepyhead.” Natasha begins. “Vision couldn’t be here today, so I’m gonna fill in.” She smiles. That smirk is contagious. “Oh.” Wanda replies. Not a dismissive Oh, But more of an Oh, okay.
It’s not like she didn’t trust Natasha, but she didn’t really trust anybody except for Vision. Only slightly, though. There was nothing Wanda could do in this situation anyway. She had no control over who took care of her. And, despite her being 19 going on 20, everybody treated her like a kid they found on the streets. Natasha thought otherwise. She doesn’t like putting people below or above her. She treats everybody with an equal amount of respect.
“I hope you don't mind, Wanda. I won’t bug you or anything; I just need to make sure you’re safe and don’t leave the area.” She assures. Wanda had never realized how soft a rough voice could be. Whatever that means. “I don’t mind, really. You can bug me.” She laughs.
Natasha realizes her Sokovian accent. It’s nice, but Natasha is also reminded of what the team did to Wanda’s only home. “Where do you think you’ll be staying? After we set you free.” She jokes as if they’re holding her captive.
“I’m not sure, but I know I can figure it out on the way. When are you guys planning to let me go, anyway?” Wanda replies jokingly in return. “If you are, that is. I can’t tell what sarcasm is and isn’t with you Americans.” “I’m not American, actually, любимый.”
“Was that Russian?” Wanda eyes sparkle. The Russian language was extremely close to Sokovian, so she was happy to hear some familiar tongue. “Maybe. What were you thinking for breakfast?” Natasha sits on the edge of the bed.
“I can cook eggs or something.” Wanda replied. “Are you a good cook?” “I like to think so.” They laugh. There was something warm about Natasha’s presence, and Wanda’s body wasn’t ignoring it. “What did you eat, Natasha?” “Nothing, but I’m not hungry anyway.” She assures.
“Whatever you say, дорогой .” Wanda knew a bit of Russian too. “You tryin’ to one up me, Maximoff?” “Not at all.” They laugh. Wanda removes the thick, fluffy blanket that Tony gave her from her bottom half. “You want some privacy?” Natasha asks, already getting up and walking towards the slightly ajar door. “That’d be nice, yes.” “I’ll be outside.” They exchange a smile with a short gaze at one another.
Wanda rises up with a yawn and a stretch. She slowly emerges from the rock hard mattress that Rogers likes to refer to as ‘ The Softest Bed From The 50’s ’. But which 50s? The year 50? There’s no way someone could sleep comfortably on a bed like that. As Wanda picks out a nice, comfortable outfit, she waltzes out towards the kitchen. She sees that Natasha had already placed out eggs, a pan, and some butter. “Thank you, Natasha.” She smiles. Natasha rises from the wall she was leaning her back on to supervise Wanda’s cooking.
“Do we have any pepper? Or salt? Or any kind of seasoning?” Wanda asks. “I’m sure.” Natasha replies, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “Here.” She says, handing over a salt and pepper shaker. “What about veggies? You eat any of those?” Natasha jokes.
“Well, obviously, but I’m too tired to do all of that right now.” “I can prepare them if you want.” “Would you like to? I don’t want to force you.” “Of course. I have to watch you, so why not do something with you too?” Natasha assures. “If you can find the ingredients, I’ll be happy to share a workspace with you.” Wanda replies. She knew not to get too close to Natasha, though.
Not, like, physically close, but that too. She still didn’t trust anybody as much as she trusted her brother, but she had also learned that sometimes she needed to let things go. That’s life, right? And, you know, it’s not like Natasha was so easily trustable anyway. About a gazillion names that woman had. Wanda liked her secretive-ness. It probably isn’t a usual reaction though, I’m sure.
As Natasha came back to the counter with avocados, she went to grab a knife, but had to pass by Wanda to do so. Her arm was stretched out in front of Wanda’s face, giving her a whiff of whatever perfume Natasha had on. Smelled like metal, but also blood. The scents compliment each other. An unusual smell, for sure, but it smelled good on Natasha.
The way she cut the cucumbers made Wanda sure that Natasha was trained. Whoever put her in charge of Wanda made the right decision. Wanda also noticed the scars all over Natasha’s face and arms. There was a gunshot looking wound on her right arm. “What’s that from?” She couldn’t help but ask. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer. Just curious.” She laughs, but does really want an answer.
“Curiosity killed the cat.” Natasha pauses. Wanda doesn’t expect an answer anymore. “But you’d find out eventually. I shouldn’t give much information, but.. Budapest.” “What?” Wanda’s eyes lose their sparkle. Maybe Natasha being so reserved is a little annoying. “Budapest. I.. Fell. On something. It hurt.” That didn’t look like a fall. Did she fall on a pole or something?
“Some kind of fall.” Wanda says, turning off the stove. “I hope you liked your eggs scrambled” “Me? I thought you were only cooking for you.” “I can read minds, you know. I knew you were still kind of hungry.” She laughs. “Hmm.. Right. Why didn’t you just cook with your powers?” “Maybe in the future. I’m still not too sure how to control it fully.” Natasha’s the curious one now.
“What’s your background? Or- like, your story.” She asks. “That was sudden. And, hey, I thought curiosity killed the cat.” Natasha had her own words used against her. “Right, whatever.” She mumbles. “You don’t have to tell me.” “No, it’s okay, I’m not a spy.” “How did- Right, mind powers. You’re not gonna make me go insane again, are you?” “God, I hope not. I saw what you say, Natasha. And, by the way, my mind powers have a name. Telepathy.” “Tomato Potato.” “That's not how you..” “It doesn’t matter. Talk to me, Maximoff.” Maximoff? “Okay, well.. My parents were the sweetest people I’ve ever known. They made me and my brother the happiest children ever.” “That seems nice.” Natasha smiles. “Not to cut you off,” She clears her throat.
“Were you born with your powers? Or- Like, how did that happen?” Natasha feels embarrassed to ask. She doesn’t want to go past any boundaries. “Do you ask everybody about their deepest thoughts like this?” Wanda jokes. “No, sorry, I- Again, you don’t have to answer.” Stuttering. One thing Natasha never did. The last time she did was when she realized she had her first crush on Clint. That was a while ago, though. They both laugh about it now. “It's okay, though. I.. Okay.”
Wanda had never told anybody about her experience at the HYDRA facilities before. “When my parents died,” She said with a lump in her throat. “When my parents died, my brother and I volunteered for a.. Testing thing. I don’t know what they did to Pietro, but they made me touch some sort of.. Staff. I couldn’t quite make it out, but it held this bright yellow oval object. When I made contact with it, I saw a woman. She had this- This sharp crown on.”
Natasha realizes that maybe Wanda and her have some things in common. Like facilities. Natasha nods her head, indicating that Wanda should continue her story. “Um,” She stutters. “I’m not sure if they did any tests while I was out or anything, but I’m pretty sure the staff is how they gave me.. Whatever this is.” Wanda chuckles, waving a red ball of whatever in between her fingers.
“How about you?” She asks, making eye contact with Natasha. “Me?” Natasha replies, putting her cutting knife down onto the counter. “My childhood was complicated. We shouldn’t get into it. Not yet.” “Yet.” Wanda repeats. “Do you plan on seeing me more in the future?” She smirks. “If you’d like.” Natasha smiles back with a chuckle. “Is Natasha your real name? You seem to go by many.” “Yes, it is. You can call me Nat, though.” “Nat.” They smile at each other, seeming to bond over traumatic experiences. “I like that.” Wanda says, looking Nat up and down.