Chapter 5
"Anya."
Anya’s head jerked slightly, her watery eyes flicking toward Natasha's boots, but she didn't say anything. Her breaths came in quick, uneven gasps, the panic refusing to loosen its grip.
Natasha crouched a few feet away, giving her space, her sharp eyes watching Anya closely. She didn't reach out, didn't try to touch her. Instead, she spoke again, her tone steady and measured. "Your breathing's all over the place. You're not getting enough air, which is making it worse. I'm going to help you fix that."
Anya's fingers twitched against the mat, but she didn't push Natasha away. She didn't have the energy to fight her, not this time. Her head dipped in the faintest of nods.
"Good," Natasha said simply. She shifted to sit cross-legged on the floor, her movements slow and deliberate. "Follow my lead. Breathe in through your nose for four seconds. Hold it for four. Then out through your mouth for six."
Anya hesitated but managed to nod.
"Let's try it. In for four." Natasha inhaled deeply, counting softly. "One, two, three, four. Now hold it." She paused for four beats. "And out. One, two, three, four, five, six."
Anya tried to mimic her, but her first attempt faltered. Her chest hitched as she tried to hold the air in, and the exhale came out in a shaky rush. Frustration flickered in her teary eyes.
"It's okay if it's not perfect, it's okay to make mistakes," Natasha said, her tone unwavering. "Again. In for four."
This time, Anya's breaths were steadier, though still uneven. She held it for the count and exhaled shakily. Natasha kept counting, her voice low and even, guiding her through the process over and over until the gasping sobs turned into slower, more controlled breaths.
Anya's shoulders began to relax, the tremors in her body easing slightly. Her hands unclenched, falling limply to her sides as she stared at the floor, her breaths finally coming in a rhythm.
Natasha sat back slightly, studying her. She didn't ask if Anya was okay—because she clearly wasn't. Instead, after a moment of silence, she tilted her head and spoke with her trademark dry tone. "So, what made the great Anya Rostova have a panic attack?"
Defensiveness, crossed Anya's face, but it didn't last. She didn't push Natasha away, didn't snap at her to leave. Her voice, when she spoke, was hoarse and barely audible. "I could hear him in my head," she admitted, her fingers curling weakly against the mat. "His voice wouldn't go away."
Natasha didn't need to ask who "he" was. She nodded once, her expression neutral, but there was a softness in her eyes that she didn't let Anya see. "Dreykov," she said quietly.
Anya nodded, her jaw tightening. "It was the same as before... like I was back there. Every mistake, every time I messed up..." Her voice cracked slightly, but she forced herself to continue. "I'd hear him yelling, feel him watching, waiting for me to fail again. And when I did, he..." She swallowed hard, her nails digging into the mat. "I thought it was necessary. That I deserved it."
Natasha stayed quiet, letting her words hang in the air. She didn't interrupt, didn't try to offer meaningless reassurances.
Anya's voice grew steadier, though no less strained. "Even now, after everything, it's still there. His voice, his rules, the punishments." She let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling again. "I can't turn it off. It's always there."
Natasha shifted slightly, sitting closer but still giving her space. "You were trained to believe that failure wasn't an option. That any mistake made you weak." Her tone wasn't gentle, but it wasn't harsh, either. It was matter-of-fact, a quiet acknowledgment of the reality they both knew.
Anya let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. "And I believed it. Every word. I still do, sometimes." Her hands came up to her face, scrubbing at the tears that wouldn't stop. "I don't know how to stop hearing him."
Natasha leaned back on her palms, her gaze steady. "You survived. You got out," she said. "That doesn't mean it didn't leave scars, but it means you're stronger than what he did to you."
Anya let her words sink in, her breaths steadying further. She didn't feel the need to argue or push Natasha away. She let herself sit there, vulnerable and raw, letting someone else carry a small part of the weight she'd been holding onto for so long.
Anya stared down at her hands, her fingers curling into fists as she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I was there for sixteen years," Anya said, her words slow and heavy. "Sixteen years in that place. Half of that with Hydra." She let out a shaky breath, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular. "I remember everything... the drills, the tests, the training. It's like my whole life was just shaping me into something I wasn't."
Natasha didn't respond immediately. She just listened, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, focused on Anya as she spoke. She didn't have any comforting words or reassurances to offer—not for this. She knew better. The only thing she could offer was her presence.
Anya clenched her jaw, swallowing hard as memories rushed through her, unbidden and relentless. "They wanted me to be something I wasn't. Hydra... they didn't care who I was, what I felt, what I thought. I was just a tool, a weapon to them. And the Red Room—" Her voice cracked, and she had to pause, the weight of it nearly suffocating her. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, her eyes wet again, but she didn't care anymore.
"They wanted me to break," she continued, her voice rough, but more controlled. "To make me forget who I was, who I could have been, and just... become one of them. I was so damn good at it. So good at hiding what was really going on, at convincing myself that the pain was normal, that the fear wasn't real."
Natasha stayed quiet, but her jaw tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the recognition in them clear.
"I'm not surprised you were with Hydra," Natasha said, her voice matter-of-fact. She had suspected as much, but hearing Anya confirm it made it feel real in a way that made her chest tighten. "It fits."
Anya's head snapped up, her gaze locking with Natasha's."You knew?" she asked, her voice small but steady.
Natasha nodded without hesitation, her expression unreadable. "I didn't have proof, but I knew. The way you move, you aren't just a widow."
Anya exhaled sharply, her hands clasping together tightly as she finally spoke again, her voice low but resolute. "Every mission, every single assignment... It was always the same. Kill. Follow orders. Never ask questions. I'd wake up to the same routine, the same tests. They never cared about what I needed, what I wanted. I was their tool. That's all I ever was. It's like it was all I could ever be."
Natasha felt a heavy weight settle in her chest, but she kept her voice steady. "Did you ever think you could break free?" she asked softly.
Anya shook her head slowly, her eyes distant as memories seemed to flood her mind. "It wasn't like... like I could just think my way out of it," she began. "When they put me under their control, it was like I didn't even exist anymore. My thoughts, my feelings—they weren't mine. It was like being trapped inside my own head, but I couldn't reach myself. Every command, every word they fed me, became my truth. They didn't need to break me. They just made me disappear."
She paused, her voice growing softer, tinged with a bitter edge. "It was like... I could still see what was happening, but I couldn't stop it. I could feel everything, every mission, every kill. But I couldn't scream, couldn't fight back. My body just moved, and I wasn't even there anymore."
She met Natasha's gaze. "And I stayed like that for years."
Natasha leaned forward, not quite touching her but close enough that her presence was felt. "You survived," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "You got out. You didn't let them win."
Anya let out a bitter laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. "Survived, maybe. But I'm still not free."
Natasha didn't argue. Instead, she let Anya speak, letting her voice fill the space between them. She had to get it all out.
"And then... there was Wanda," Anya continued, her voice cracking just slightly, but she pushed through it. "I met her before everything fell apart. Before they got to me. She was... she was different. She saw me, not just as a soldier, not just a weapon. She saw me. And for the first time, I felt like maybe I could be something more than just their tool. She made me feel... loved, I guess. She made me feel like I mattered. It was terrifying. I wasn't supposed to care about anyone. I wasn't supposed to need anyone. But I... I wanted to be with her."
Anya's hands tightened into fists in her lap as she looked away, trying to steady herself. "I didn't even know what to do with those feelings. I was trained to kill, to obey. But Wanda, she made me feel alive, in a way I hadn't felt before. I didn't think I deserved it, but I couldn't stop it."
Natasha's eyes softened, but she said nothing, just letting Anya speak.
Anya's jaw clenched as she took a shaky breath. "And then they told me she was dead. Hydra. They said she was gone. And I... I believed them. I thought I'd lost her, and that... that was the end of it. I buried everything. I buried the love, the feelings, everything."
Her eyes flashed with something darker. "But then the Red Room got me back. And that's when it really broke. They didn't just take me back into their fold—they broke my mind. I couldn't remember her, couldn't remember myself. They wiped everything clean, and when they were done, I was just another Widow. Another weapon. I had no choice but to obey."
Her voice softened, barely audible now. "The worst part? After everything they made me forget, I couldn't even mourn her. I couldn't grieve the life I thought we might've had."
She paused, her eyes meeting Natasha's briefly before looking away. "I thought I was completely lost. After that... I didn't know how to fix myself. I couldn't even figure out where to start because I didn't know who I was anymore."
Anya shifted uncomfortably, her fingers twitching as if the words themselves were too heavy. "Hydra... they injected me with something," she finally said. Her voice was bitter, laced with resentment. "It made me stronger, faster, more powerful. They called it an enhancement, like it was a gift." She scoffed, shaking her head. "It wasn't a gift—it was just another way to control me."
Natasha's eyes narrowed, her expression tightening. "What do you mean they injected you with something?" Her voice rose slightly, her protective instincts kicking in. "Anya, that's not—"
"I know!" Anya snapped, cutting her off. Her tone was sharp, but there was a rawness behind it. "I know it's not normal. I know it's a problem. But can we just... not? Not right now." She exhaled shakily, her voice breaking. "I can't talk about all of this at once. It's too much."
Natasha's jaw tightened, but her eyes softened. She nodded, leaning back slightly to give Anya space. "Fine. We'll wait," she said evenly, though there was still an edge of concern in her tone.
Anya closed her eyes, taking slow, uneven breaths. The silence stretched between them, but Natasha didn't push. She could see Anya was trying to hold herself together, trying to process the weight of everything she'd just shared.
After a long pause, Anya opened her eyes again, her expression tired but steadier. "I know I need to deal with this," she said quietly. "I'll get it checked out. But can you keep most of what I said between us? At least for now?" Her gaze met Natasha's, pleading but cautious. "I don't want anyone else to know."
Natasha didn't hesitate. "You don't have to tell anyone else if you're not ready," she said firmly. "But if you do want to talk to someone, I'll be here. You don't have to keep punishing yourself, you know."
Anya nodded slowly.
After sitting in quiet conversation for another 30 minutes, Natasha finally stood, brushing off her hands as she glanced at Anya. "Come on," she said, her tone soft but resolute. "We're going to the lab. Bruce can take a look at whatever Hydra put in you."
Anya's brows furrowed, her hesitation evident. "Wait isn't he the green guy?"
Natasha smirked faintly, crossing her arms. "Yeah, that green guy. He's also one of the smartest people I know. If anyone can figure this out, it's him."
Before Anya could respond, Vision appeared silently from around the corner, his movements fluid and calm. "Natasha is correct," he said, his voice even and measured. "Dr. Banner possesses unparalleled expertise in biochemistry. He will be able to analyze whatever is affecting you."
Anya shot Vision a cautious glance, then back at Natasha. "He just... appears out of nowhere like that?"
Natasha shrugged, clearly used to Vision's quiet entrances. "You get used to it."
As the three of them started toward the lab, Vision continued speaking. "Additionally, Mr. Stark is also in the lab. His technical expertise complements Dr. Banner's scientific knowledge. Between the two of them, they are likely to provide answers to your concerns."
Anya's pace slowed for a moment, her expression guarded. "Tony Stark? He's the same guy I saw the other day, right? The one you were talking to?"
Natasha glanced at her before she nodded. "Yeah, that's him. Don't let the attitude fool you—he's good at what he does."
They reached the lab a few minutes later, and Natasha gave Anya a reassuring look as she opened the door. Anya's gaze hardened slightly as she stepped into the lab, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. The room was buzzing with activity, monitors glowing and the faint hum of machinery filling the air. She scanned her surroundings, her body tense, eyes narrowing as Tony Stark looked up from his workstation.
"Well, look who Nat dragged in," Tony said with his trademark smirk, gesturing vaguely toward Anya with a wrench in one hand. "I take it you're the walking enigma I've been warned about. Red room victim, mystery enhancements, deadly stare—checks out so far."
Anya raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is this your idea of bedside manner?"
Tony grinned, unbothered. "Oh, absolutely. Five-star service. Ask anyone."
Before Anya could respond, Bruce Banner turned from his monitors, his expression far softer but focused, already shifting into full scientist mode. "Tony, maybe don't scare her off before we figure out what we're dealing with," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He offered Anya a small, reassuring smile. "Natasha gave us a general idea of your situation."
"You think it's some kind of enhancement formula?" Tony asked, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes flicking toward Anya with curiosity. "Hydra's always had a flair for dramatic science experiments. Could be anything."
Bruce nodded thoughtfully, already typing on his tablet. "They've experimented with everything—chemical compounds, genetic modifications, advanced biochemistry. Without specifics, we're starting from scratch here." He glanced at Anya, his tone gentle but direct. "Do you remember anything about the process? How they administered it? Any side effects?"
Anya shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "They injected me with something. Burned like hell—like my blood was on fire. I don't know what it was, and they didn't tell me. Just kept calling it 'the enhancement.'" Her voice grew colder as she added, "They didn't exactly hand out explanations."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Classic Hydra. Secrets, injections, and absolutely zero user manuals. Very on-brand."
Anya shot him a glare. "This is funny to you?"
Bruce cleared his throat, stepping in before Tony could respond. "We're not here to make assumptions or jokes," he said, shooting Tony a pointed look before turning back to Anya. "We're going to take a methodical approach. Run some scans, check your vitals, and analyze a blood sample. That'll help us figure out what's in your system and what it's doing."
Tony, unfazed, grabbed a tablet and started scrolling. "In other words, science the hell out of it. Don't worry—you're in the hands of a genius and one genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. One of us does all the hard work, and the other provides tech, wit, and a killer wardrobe." He gestured to his shirt with a grin.
Bruce sighed. "Tony, maybe let me handle this?"
"By all means." Tony gestured dramatically for Bruce to continue, though the smirk never left his face.
Anya glanced at Natasha, who had been silently observing from the corner. Natasha gave her a small, steadying nod, a silent reassurance that she was safe. Taking a deep breath, Anya reluctantly stepped forward. "Fine," she said, her tone clipped. "Let's get this over with."
Bruce gestured toward a nearby exam area, his voice calm and professional. "We'll start with the scans. Non-invasive, just a basic look to see if anything stands out. After that, we'll run a chemical analysis on your blood. Shouldn't take long."
Tony leaned back, folding his arms as he watched Anya with interest. "See? Just some fancy machines and a little science magic. You'll be fine."
Bruce guided Anya to the exam table, his movements calm and deliberate as he began hooking her up to various machines. Electrodes were carefully placed on her skin to monitor her vitals, while a scanning device hummed to life beside her, preparing to map out her internal systems. Anya sat stiffly, her eyes darting around the room, her discomfort evident.
"Just relax," Bruce said gently, adjusting the scanner's settings. "This part is just routine. No needles yet."
Tony leaned over the counter, tapping rapidly on his tablet as he synced the machines to his systems. "Relax? You're strapping her into a Hydra science fair exhibit. Pretty sure relaxing isn't on the menu."
Bruce shot him a look. "Not helping, Tony."
"I'm just saying," Tony replied with a shrug. "Couldn't we have added a little ambiance? Maybe some nice music? Jazz?"
Anya glared at him, her voice dry. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you?"
"Not my strongest skill," Tony admitted, grinning.
Before Bruce could start the scan, the door to the lab slid open, and Steve Rogers walked in, his expression focused. "Tony, I need—" He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze landing on Anya and the equipment surrounding her. "What's going on here?"
Bruce straightened, glancing at Steve before returning to the scanner. "We're running tests. Anya was with Hydra. They uhh experimented on her."
Steve's face darkened instantly, his jaw tightening. "Hydra," he repeated, the word laced with anger. He stepped closer, his gaze flicking to Anya. "What kind of experiments?"
Bruce glanced at Anya, silently asking for permission to explain further. Anya sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Might as well," she muttered. "At this rate, everyone's going to know all my secrets anyway."
Bruce hesitated but nodded. "They injected her with something—a compound she doesn't recognize. We're trying to figure out what it is."
"Could it be the serum?" Steve asked, his voice heavy with concern. "We know Hydra got their hands on parts of Erskine's work after the war. They could've tried to replicate it again."
Tony, who had been scrolling through data on his tablet, cut in with a dismissive wave. "Sure, Hydra's like the world's worst knockoff factory, but that doesn't mean they nailed it. The original serum was lost with Erskine. Whatever they made, it's not going to be the same."
Bruce glanced at Tony before addressing Steve. "Even if it's not an exact match, Hydra's experiments have always been... dangerous. We need to see if there's any connection. It could help us understand what they did to her."
Steve turned to Anya, his gaze steady but filled with sympathy. "If it is tied to the serum—something similar to what they used on me or... on Bucky—it could explain a lot."
Anya tensed, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the exam table. "You keep saying 'serum' like I'm supposed to know what that means. All I know is they injected me with something, and it hurt really bad. After that, everything changed."
Bruce, already setting up the equipment, nodded toward Steve. "We can run a comparison. Your blood could give us a baseline to work with. If there's overlap, we'll know."
Steve nodded immediately. "Take what you need."
As Bruce prepared a syringe, Anya glanced at Natasha, her voice low but cutting. "At this rate, you might as well pass out flyers with all my secrets on them."
Natasha gave her a small, knowing smirk. "Relax. Steve's probably the only one here who knows what it feels like for all those serums to mess with your head and body."
Steve's lips twitched into a faint smile at that but stayed focused on Bruce as he drew the sample. "We'll figure this out," he said, looking back at Anya.
Anya's expression softened, but only slightly. "Yeah," she muttered, her tone still guarded. "Sure."
"Look at that," Tony interjected, leaning casually against the counter. "Steve Rogers, Hydra's golden boy, coming in handy for science. Who knew?"
Steve rolled his eyes. "Glad I could contribute, Tony."
Bruce was already busy, moving between machines and muttering to himself as he analyzed Steve's and Anya's samples side by side. "If there's any overlap," he said without looking up, "it'll show up here. Give me a minute."
A few minutes later, the machines whirred as Bruce studied the results on the screen. His brow furrowed, and he adjusted his glasses, leaning closer. "Well... this is interesting."
Tony straightened up from where he'd been leaning, his casual demeanor still intact but his tone sharpening with curiosity. "Interesting good or interesting Hydra-level horrifying?"
Bruce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Both, actually. There are clear markers in her blood that match components of the serum used on Steve. It's not a perfect replication—there are deviations in the formula, but the similarities are unmistakable."
Tony's joking air faded slightly as he stepped closer to the display, his eyes scanning the data. "Well, that's not exactly reassuring. So, what are we looking at here? Discount Steve Rogers with some bonus side effects?"
"Not quite," Bruce replied, pointing at the screen. "They've altered it—probably to make it work faster or enhance different traits. That could explain the heightened reflexes and speed she described. But it's unstable. There are markers in her blood that suggest long-term exposure could have... consequences."
Anya, who had been standing silently, now stiffened, her arms crossing over her chest. "Consequences? Like what?"
Bruce hesitated, looking to Natasha briefly before continuing. "It's hard to say without more tests. But this kind of tampering usually comes with a price—maybe physical, maybe psychological. Hydra wasn't known for prioritizing safety."
"Shocking," Anya muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, what? I'm some kind of time bomb now?"
Tony glanced over, his usual smirk fading slightly, though his tone stayed casual. "Depends. Did Hydra give you a user manual? No? Then yeah, we're kind of winging it here. But don't worry, we're pretty good at dealing with the messy stuff."
Anya's eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening. "I don't want to be an experiment again."
Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, relax, Hydra Barbie. I'm not trying to turn you into my next experiment. But if we don't figure this out, you're the one stuck dealing with whatever surprise side effects they left in you."
"Tony," Natasha warned, her tone sharp as she placed a hand on Anya's shoulder. "Ease up."
Steve, who had been quiet until now, stepped forward, his voice calm but steady. "Anya, I know this is overwhelming. Trust me, I've been there. When I woke up after the serum, It was definitely an adjustment. And you have others who understand."
Anya's eyes narrowed, her tone sharp. "Yeah? And how'd that work out for you, Captain America? Everyone loves you, right? Hero of the war, shining example of justice. We're not exactly in the same boat."
Steve's expression softened, but his voice remained steady. "I know it's not the same. I chose to go through with the serum; you didn't. But I still understand what it's like to have your life completely changed by something you didn't fully understand at the time. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here."
Before Anya could respond, Tony cut in, his tone casual but serious. "Alright, how about we skip the heart-to-heart and get back to the point? Bruce and I will figure out what specifically is in your blood, solve the mystery, and save the day. No speeches."
Bruce nodded, glancing up from his screen. "We just need your cooperation. No one's treating you like a soldier or an experiment. We're just trying to help."
Anya's patience snapped. "Can you just call me Anya?" she shot back, her voice rising. "No soldier. No Widow. No assassin. Just Anya. Please."
The room fell quiet for a moment. Even Tony, who rarely took things seriously, straightened slightly at her words. Steve looked at her, his expression softening. "Alright, Anya," he said gently. "We'll do it your way."
Tony raised his hands, his voice unusually calm. "Got it. Just Anya. No labels. We're just here to figure this out."
Natasha stepped a little closer, her voice low but firm. "They're on your side, Anya. Let them help."
After a long pause, Anya exhaled sharply, some of the tension easing from her posture. "Fine. But if I start feeling like an experiment, I'm gone."
Bruce gave her a small nod. "Understood."
Tony, his usual smirk replaced by a more focused expression, turned back to his tablet, scrolling through the data coming in from the scans. "Alright, let's see what we've got here," he muttered under his breath as he tapped a few keys. Bruce, beside him, was already deep into analyzing the blood samples, his eyes darting from one screen to the next.
The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of machines and the occasional click of a keyboard. Tony flicked a glance at Bruce, who was making notes on a nearby tablet. "We should be able to figure out what this is pretty soon," Tony said, though his usual confidence was tempered by the seriousness of the situation. "It's definitely not your average cocktail."
Bruce nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "There are several unusual compounds here," he murmured, his fingers flying over the controls. "Definitely not something I've seen before. It's almost like a mix of bioengineering and something... more. We'll need to run a few more tests to get to the specifics."
Vision, standing at the far side of the room, observed in silence, his bright eyes occasionally glancing between the others. He said nothing, but his presence felt oddly grounding in the midst of all the chaos. It was as if his calm demeanor could somehow settle the air in the room.
Steve had quietly excused himself, sensing the need for space, and Natasha stayed close to Anya, her silent support a quiet but solid presence beside her. Anya, despite the ongoing tests and her obvious discomfort, kept her gaze fixed on the screens in front of her, trying to distract herself from the growing weight in her chest.
As they worked, the door to the lab opened, and Wanda entered. She paused when she saw Anya hooked up to the machines, her steps faltering for a brief moment. Her eyes flicked quickly to Anya's face, her brow moving in concern. Anya, sensing her gaze, gave a barely perceptible nod, signaling that she was okay. The exchange passed between them—Wanda's worry, Anya's reassurance.
Wanda took a few more steps into the room, coming up beside Natasha. Her eyes never fully left Anya, but she gave Natasha a small, tentative smile. "Hey, Nat," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I just wanted to ask you about something—"
But her words faltered as she glanced at the machines surrounding Anya, and she stopped herself mid-sentence. "Is she... is she okay?"
Anya tensed, uncomfortable under Wanda's scrutiny, but she didn't flinch. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes darted briefly to Wanda before she quickly looked away, unwilling to let herself get lost in the emotions that had started to stir.
"Yeah, she's fine," Natasha replied, her voice steady as always. She glanced at Anya, checking for any signs of distress. "She's getting checked out. Bruce and Tony are working on it."
Wanda nodded slowly, but her gaze lingered on Anya for a moment longer before she turned back to Natasha, clearly trying to read between the lines. The tension between them was palpable—Wanda's concern for Anya was clear, but neither of them seemed willing to address what was unspoken.
"So, uh," Wanda began, breaking the silence. "You mentioned that thing we talked about earlier? I think we need to look into it more. It could be important."
Natasha nodded, her tone shifting. "Right. We'll talk later. Let's get through this first."
Wanda looked once more at Anya, then slowly walked back toward the door. As she passed, she shot Anya one more glance, an unreadable look in her eyes. Anya stiffened but gave a curt nod, not trusting herself to speak.
As Wanda exited, Tony turned to Anya, his voice light but carrying an unmistakable edge of curiosity. "You two need to talk," he said with a half-smile, clearly aware of the tension and awkwardness that lingered in the air.
Anya's eyes flicked to him, a dry retort forming on her lips, but she swallowed it down, suddenly too tired to argue. Instead, she just sighed, glancing at the screens in front of her, feeling the weight of everything pressing in on her.
The moment was interrupted by Bruce, who looked up from his work, his brow furrowed. "We've got some data," he said, breaking the silence. "But we'll need a little more time to run a complete analysis."
Tony stood up, stretching slightly. "Great. Another round of waiting." He clapped his hands together, clearly eager to get things moving but with the underlying tension still palpable. "Alright, we'll get the full picture soon enough."
Bruce finished his analysis and looked up at Anya. "You're free to go back to whatever you were doing for now. We've got all the information we need for today."
Anya nodded, her shoulders still tense. "Great. Thanks for the 'science.'" She started to turn away from the lab, ready to escape the constant buzzing of the machines.
Vision, who had been quietly observing from the corner, stepped forward. "Miss Maximoff is in her room," he said, his voice calm and measured.
Anya paused, confused. "Why do I need to know that?"
Vision's expression didn't change. "Because Mr. Stark said you two need to talk."
Anya sighed, her frustration mounting. She didn't need this right now. But she didn't argue. After a moment of silence, she continued down the hallway, each step heavier than the last.
As she walked, the sounds of the lab behind her slowly faded away, but the tension still lingered in the air. When she reached her room, she stepped inside, the door closing softly behind her. On one of the tables, she noticed a note.
"Hey, can we talk? -W"
Anya stared at the note for a moment, her thoughts swirling. She wasn't sure if she was ready to talk to Wanda—not with everything that had happened, not with everything still left unsaid. But the note, and the quiet concern behind it, made her pause. She sat down slowly, running her fingers over the paper.
Maybe talking was the last thing she wanted, but it was also starting to feel like the only thing left to do.