✧.* ༉‧₊˚
The echo of punches fills the training room, the sharp jabs varying in strength and sound.
Training has been ongoing for about a week, with the other Avengers helping to guide the new members, including Wanda.
Wanda is the only one who has had to undergo extensive training. Vision is a literal robot, and Rhodes and Sam have already had military training. She is determined to find ways to improve herself and enhance her powers.
This training has become an outlet for her grief, even though the constant wave of loss threatens to drown her every day.
—
“Are you ready for training today, Wanda?” Natasha asks as she walks up to her in the kitchen.
Wanda nods, following Nat to the training room and gathering their training materials.
Their routine is quite consistent: they start with cardio, then move on to strength training, followed by exercises for Wanda’s growing telekinetic powers, and finish with a friendly spar or punching bag workout.
As they use the treadmills for their cardio warm-up, Wanda feels weaker than usual, needing to stop for a few extra breaths.
Perhaps she has been pushing herself a bit too hard lately, but what harm could it do? Even if she isn’t feeling well, she can push through some slight exhaustion and a headache, right?
Hoping Nat doesn’t notice, they move on to their strength training. Today, Wanda decides to work on her core while Nat uses dumbbells, taking breaks to spot each other when needed.
By the end of Wanda’s last set, she’s feeling worse than before, gasping for breath in the air that seems too thin.
“You okay?” Natasha asks, slowly walking over as she puts her equipment away.
“Yeah, just a harder set than usual,” Wanda replies, struggling to rise from the machine.
Natasha nods, gesturing toward the next training area.
On a normal day, the telekinesis portion of training would be one of the easiest for Wanda, but today it feels like an insurmountable obstacle.
Whether it’s a small mental block or sheer exhaustion, Wanda’s powers seem diminished.
With every attempt, she feels a knot grow in her stomach, fearing disappointment from Natasha and battling with herself, pushing harder with every effort.
Her breathing becomes unsteady, coming in short gasps instead of the deep breaths she and Nat aim for. Each swallow burns in her throat, feeling like pure heat as every muscle in her body screams from exertion.
“Hey, why don’t we take a break? I could use some water,” Nat suggests, noticing Wanda’s quiet struggle.
Wanda nods, sweat beading along her hairline as they walk toward the water dispenser.
As they stand there, Natasha notices Wanda’s uneven breathing persisting from the workout they just completed. She observes the way Wanda struggles to drink from her cup, attempting to mask the discomfort.
Two quiet sneezes escape Wanda, interrupting the silence in the training room.
“Bless you,” Natasha says, eyeing her closely. “Everything okay?”
Wanda nods, trying to discreetly wipe her nose and sniffling in the process.
Natasha hesitates about moving to the next workout, seeing Wanda appear weaker than usual and possibly struggling with cold symptoms while still processing her grief.
“How do you feel about ending our session here? I think we’ve done enough for today.”
A nervous look fills Wanda’s eyes. She worries that Nat thinks she’s too weak to continue, too powerless to fight, nothing more than the weapon HYDRA made her.
“I can keep going. If I don’t train, I won’t get better,” Wanda replies, a snarky tone creeping into her voice as she tosses her paper cup into the trash.
“It’s okay to take breaks. I can tell you don’t feel your best today.”
“And how will you know what my best looks like if you never give me a chance?”
Natasha raises her eyebrows as she watches Wanda head toward the sparring area, recognizing the self-doubt hidden beneath Wanda’s bravado.
“And how will you know when to stop if I don’t make you?”
That comment leaves a hurt expression in Wanda’s eyes, slightly shattering her facade of resistance.
Nat understands what it feels like to hide grief and exhaustion beneath a mask, to conceal it behind walls. She knows how it feels to mask all symptoms and signs of weakness in fear of being perceived differently when people look at you—being seen as vulnerable instead of a machine.
Wanda gets into her usual fighting position, sniffling once more as she locks eyes with Natasha.
“Wanda, we don’t have to do this—”
Before Nat can finish, Wanda throws her first strike, landing a blow on Natasha’s side.
In an effort to avoid overexerting Wanda, Natasha tries to counter her moves instead of attacking.
“You deserve to take breaks Wanda,” Nat says softly, defending herself from another jab.
“Stop going easy on me, fight me like I deserve it,” Wanda replies harshly, barely able to get the words out in between gasps.
Wanda can feel herself blinking back tears, breaths burning in her chest as she fights harder, pushes herself to the very last breaking point.
With every strike Wanda throws, the line separating consciousness and unconsciousness blurs further, black specs clouding her vision.
The world around her succumbs to a blur, her body finally giving in to the constant lull of the rest she needs.
—
“Wanda, you’re burning up,” Natasha says softly, a tone of concern obvious in her voice as she cradles Wanda’s face in her arms.
“What happened?” Wanda breathes out, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.
“You passed out. You pushed yourself too hard.”
Wanda can tell Natasha is pissed, and rightfully so. How could she be so dumb to really believe she deserved to live here? To train here, to eat here, to learn here; all Wanda could do was act a fool and project weakness.
“I’m sorry. I don’t deserve to be here. All I do is project my weaknesses and give everyone another burden to worry about.”
Pure heartbreak softens Nat’s expression as she watches the woman before her crumble into a million little pieces beneath the weight of everything she’s carrying.
“Wanda, you do deserve to be here. You deserve to show weakness and admit your faults. You deserve to feel like you belong, not like you’re a burden. You could never be a burden to any of us.”
Through the shattered pieces of what she once knew as herself, Wanda can tell that Nat’s words are genuine, and that she might actually be able to belong here.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Natasha whispers, draping one of Wanda’s arms over her shoulder.
They walk together, Nat’s hands gently grasping Wanda’s waist to support her fevered body.
When they reach Wanda’s bedroom, she carefully opens the door with her powers. Nat carries her to bed and gently sets her down.
“Thank you,” Wanda murmurs, gazing up at Nat.
“I don’t need a ‘thank you.’ I just need you to give yourself a break. You need to rest. If I find you working like this again, I won’t be as generous.”
Wanda nods, everything in a fevered haze as the lull of sleep threatens to pull her down once again.
“Before you sleep, someone needs to check your temperature,” Natasha says, heading into Wanda’s bathroom to grab a thermometer from the med kit.
Wanda mumbles something incoherent, attempting to wrap a third blanket around herself when Nat returns.
The thermometer beeps loudly a few seconds after Nat lifts it to Wanda’s forehead, indicating it’s done its job.
“Wanda…” Natasha murmurs, glancing between the thermometer’s reading and Wanda, worry evident in her expression. “Your temperature is 103. No wonder you passed out.”
“Mm, cold,” Wanda mutters, detached from reality as her body fights the fever that spirals in her brain.
“We need to cool you down. I’m sorry you’re cold, but I can’t give you any more blankets. It won’t help bring down your fever if you’re overheating your body even more.”
Leaving Wanda alone, Natasha walks back into the bathroom to grab a cold washcloth to drape over Wanda’s head. While she’s there, she searches for cold medicine and successfully finds some in one of the cabinets.
When she returns, Wanda is in the midst of a fit of stifled sneezes, all muffled into her elbow.
Natasha approaches her slowly, feeling a sense of unease as she realizes how heavily this cold is taking a toll on Wanda’s body.
How long has she been pushing herself like this?
“Bless you. Can you lay back for me, please?”
Wanda complies, her hazy green eyes looking directly at Natasha.
Natasha places the cool washcloth on her forehead, brushing small strands of hair out of Wanda’s face.
“I need to train. Did I train today?” Wanda asks, looking around in confusion.
“Yes, you did. Now you need to rest.”
“No, I need to train harder. I’ll never be anything if I don’t work.”
Natasha looks into her hazy eyes and sees so much more than Wanda wants to let on. She sees the constant mental abuse Wanda puts herself through, the stream of thoughts urging her to work herself to the bone every day, and the raw grief evident in every expression she makes.
Suddenly, Wanda stands up, trying to walk back to the training room in the illusion that she hasn’t trained yet and that she isn’t extremely ill.
Natasha’s reflexes are quick; she catches Wanda as she stumbles over her own two feet, resting her hands on Wanda’s waist.
“You need to sleep. You need to rest, Wands,” Natasha whispers into her ear, slowly lowering her back into bed.
The nickname seems to change everything about Wanda’s demeanor; her eyes appear more sad, yet compliant to do what Natasha tells her.
At first, she just sits on the edge of her bed, watching Wanda breathe beside her. It isn’t until she notices that Wanda’s breaths are all too shallow that she moves closer, stroking her palm softly.
Eventually, Wanda falls asleep, cradled into bed by Natasha’s soft murmurs and gentle touch. Nat isn’t used to this peace, this quiet that has come over the room, or how soft and vulnerable Wanda seems in this moment.
Wanda has been hiding away, masking her pain behind determination and defiance, keeping to herself instead of leaning on others for protection.
Something feels too familiar; Natasha practically sees her own reflection in Wanda’s eyes.
The peace is interrupted by a harsh sound as Wanda’s breathing becomes more unsteady and her body tenses up.
“Pietro!”
The name slips from her mouth, pleading and exposed.
“Wanda,” Natasha murmurs, trying to ground her back in reality. “It’s okay, you’re not alone.”
“Pietro, no, please, don’t leave me. I don’t want you to leave. Please stay; I can’t survive without you.”
Natasha watches in despair, desperately trying to help Wanda through whatever night terror she’s experiencing.
“You’re not alone. It’s me, Natasha. You don’t have to worry,” she says, brushing Wanda’s arm.
Wanda’s nightmare continues, and the power in her hands glows red against her palms.
Natasha strokes Wanda’s cheek, making a final attempt to bring her back. The power in Wanda’s hands dissipates as her eyes slowly open. A flare of red is seen in her irises before disappearing at the sight of Nat’s face.
“There you are. Are you okay?” Natasha asks quietly, allowing Wanda her space as she slightly backs away.
Unshed tears glisten in Wanda’s eyes, every shaky breath threatening to send them rolling down her rosy cheeks.
“I’m so tired. Every day I’m fighting a losing battle, and every day I watch as the wave pulls me under. It’s just gonna drown me.”
The underlying tremor in her voice is evident, and Natasha watches in concern. She sees the pain and grief in Wanda’s weakened demeanor and the way her walls begin to crumble.
“I’m so sorry, Wanda. If there was anything I could do to bring him back, believe me, I would.”
“But you can’t.”
Wanda’s tears finally become too much to ignore, spilling out of her eyes and down her face.
Natasha hesitates, wanting to give Wanda space but also wanting to comfort her and assure her that everything will be okay.
Sobs wrack Wanda’s body—fevered and violent—and Natasha pulls her into a warm embrace. Natasha’s arms around her feel like an anchor, keeping Wanda grounded through the storm, helping her navigate the crashing waves of sadness and grief.
“You’re okay; I’ve got you,” Natasha says, stroking Wanda’s hair, trying desperately to coax her through the rollercoaster of emotions she is experiencing.
Wanda’s breathing starts to slow down, still more shaky and uneven than usual, but better than the shallow gasps she had previously taken.
“Deep breaths, that’s it,” Natasha whispers softly, cradling Wanda’s weakened form in her arms. “You’re alright; I’ve got you.”
“He used to always take care of me, used to help me through injuries and illnesses while we were trapped at that HYDRA base. Now he’s gone, and not that I need someone to care for me, but his presence always helped,” Wanda says softly, the confession hanging in the air. “He always called me Wands.”
Natasha’s heart aches in sadness, understanding why the nickname she had used to get Wanda to bed had worked so well, and why there was a glint of sorrow in Wanda’s eyes when it slipped out.
“I’m so sorry, Wanda. I didn’t know he called you that. I just needed you to get to sleep, and the nickname seemed more natural to try to help you rest.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. You’re here and watching over me; I should be thanking you. I’m sorry for taking up your time; you surely have more important things to do. I’ll be fine here.”
“You’re really sick. Hell, you fainted, Wanda. I don’t think your fever is going down, and I don’t want to risk you pushing yourself to exercise again. I’m staying.”
“You’ve already seen too much. I’ll be fine; just let me take care of it myself. I push myself for a reason, a reason you couldn’t even begin to understand.”
“And what if I do understand? I’m not leaving you here alone; you need someone in your corner. Out of anyone on this team, I understand the most. I was once the new girl—the traumatized, straight-out-of-the-Red-Room, quiet new girl who hid everything behind walls. I’m not saying I’m not still that girl, but I had a person in my corner. You need someone, Wanda. I’m not leaving you to neglect and hurt yourself further than you already have. I should have tried much harder to stop you during training.”
Wanda falls silent, her hazy eyes searching Natasha’s as she desperately tries to keep her tears at bay.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, avoiding Natasha’s gaze as she fixes her eyes on the wall.
“Let me stay, please. I need to make sure you’re safe. I can’t believe I let you push yourself that hard. Let me care for you.”
Wanda nods reluctantly, quietly sniffling as she lays back down.
The room falls silent again, with Natasha heading back to the chair she had been sitting in, leaving Wanda alone in the bed.
“You don’t have to sit over there; you can stay if you want,” Wanda says softly, sleepiness evident in her voice.
Natasha watches Wanda carefully as Wanda’s gaze drifts to hers, then falls to the other side of the bed.
“This bed is too big for one person, and I’m sure that chair isn’t comfortable. Please don’t think of me differently. You don’t have to come over, but just don’t distance yourself. Don’t be afraid of me, please.”
“I could never be afraid of you.”
With that, Natasha moves toward the bed once again, carefully sitting by Wanda’s side.
“You can’t control everyone’s fear, only your own. I had to learn that the hard way. You could never drive me away; you need someone who understands what you’ve been through.”
Wanda nods, a sleepy yet grateful look in her eyes. Before she can say anything more, her breath hitches, and she stifles multiple sneezes into her elbow.
“Bless you. I’m going to take your temperature again, okay?” Natasha says, concern evident in her voice as she looks at Wanda. She gets up and quickly returns with the thermometer in hand.
As she takes Wanda’s temperature again, she can hear the congested breaths in Wanda’s lungs, worry settling in her mind.
The thermometer shows no change from Wanda’s earlier temperature, confirming that the remedies Natasha tried had no effect. The exhaustion from overworking herself and all of the grief had weakened Wanda’s immune system more than it should be.
“Wanda, your fever hasn’t gone down yet. We need to get some liquids in you, some more medicine, and probably some food as well.”
“You’re not leaving, though, right?” Wanda asks, her words slurring as she fights to stay awake. “Please don’t leave.”
“I’ll be gone for a second to get you some fluids and medicine, but I promise I will come back.”
Natasha leaves the room to search the compound for food for Wanda. When she finds some premade chicken noodle soup in the fridge, she sighs in relief, grateful not to have to showcase her questionable cooking skills. Along with the soup, she makes some tea and grabs a cold bottle of water for Wanda.
When she returns, she finds Wanda asleep, snoring lightly, surrounded by layers of blankets.
Natasha prepares a cool washcloth to place on Wanda’s forehead, hoping it will help keep her cool long enough to rest before she wakes and takes her medicine.
Unlike her previous sleep, Natasha can tell that Wanda is more peaceful this time. Her breathing is congested, yes, but it’s not shallow or tense.
After about an hour, Wanda begins to stir, waking slowly and rubbing her eyes.
“I got you some food and fluids so you can take your medicine. How are you feeling?” Natasha asks.
“Better than I was. Thank you for being here,” Wanda replies.
Natasha nods happily in response, gesturing to the tray next to Wanda.
At first, Wanda hesitates, viewing the care as something she doesn’t deserve. But then she sees it as something more, recognizing the effort Natasha is making just to be present.
As she struggles through the first few bites, memories flood back of what it was like to have Pietro care for her—his constant comfort during their suffering while captives of HYDRA.
Wanda takes the medicine, and the burning sensation in her throat dissipates a little after the warm soup.
“I can take it from here, thank you, Nat,” Wanda says quietly, gratitude evident in her face.
“Alright. Let me just make sure you have everything else you need; I don’t want you to overwork yourself again,” Natasha replies, leaving the room quickly to look for more medical supplies.
When she returns, she finds Wanda cozied up, blankets wrapped tightly around her shivering body.
Natasha sets a few extra items by Wanda’s bedside and quickly turns off the lights.
Just to be sure, she places her hand on Wanda’s forehead to check her temperature. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Natasha has to position herself carefully to rest her hand on Wanda’s head.
Next to her, she can hear Wanda’s shaky breaths, causing Natasha to focus on Wanda instead of her own exhaustion. Wanda's breathing is calming, which only adds to the lull of sleep that begins to overtake Natasha.
✧.* ༉‧₊˚