Chapter 6
Anya sighed deeply, the note crumpling slightly in her hand as she stared at it, unmoving. She missed Wanda. God, she missed her. Not just her presence, but the way she could steady Anya's fear, how she always knew what to say, how to soothe her without words.
But this wasn't the same. Nothing about this felt the same.
Standing abruptly, Anya crossed the room, her boots heavy on the floor. She stared at the doorknob, her hand hovering over it as if opening the door would unlock every emotion she'd been shoving down since she saw Wanda again. For a second, she considered tearing the note to pieces and shoving it into the trash. But her hand didn't move.
Before she could decide what to do, the door opened on its own. Wanda's face appeared in the gap, her brows drawn tight with concern. She wore a simple black dress that fell just above her knees, paired with a soft, gray cardigan that hung loosely around her shoulders. Her dark hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, exposing the subtle curve of her jawline and the quiet worry etched into her features.
"How did you—" Anya started, her voice sharper than intended.
Wanda cut her off, stepping into the room. "Your thoughts are loud," she said simply, her voice soft but steady.
Anya frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line as she stepped back, opening the door wider for Wanda to enter. "Yeah, well, I didn't invite you in."
Wanda's expression didn't change as she walked in. Her gaze flicked briefly to Vision, who was standing just down the hall, clearly lingering out of curiosity. "Vision," Wanda said firmly, "leave us, please."
Vision tilted his head slightly, studying Wanda for a moment before nodding. "As you wish," he said, turning and disappearing around the corner.
The room fell into silence as Wanda turned back to Anya. She walked slowly, as if gauging Anya's mood, before perching herself on the edge of the bed. Anya stayed where she was, her arms crossed defensively as she leaned against the wall.
"Got your note," Anya said flatly, her tone cold. "What do you want to talk about?"
Wanda hesitated, clearly searching for the right words. "I wanted to check on you," she said softly. "After everything—"
"Everything like what?" Anya interrupted, her voice rising. She pushed off the wall, stepping closer to Wanda. "Like the fact you left me thinking you were dead? After everything we'd been through, you just—what? Decided it was easier for me to think you were gone?"
"Anya, it wasn't like that," Wanda started, but Anya didn't let her finish.
"Then what was it like, Wanda?" she snapped. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you abandoned me!"
"I didn't abandon you," Wanda said, her voice breaking slightly. "I thought I was protecting you. I thought if you thought I was gone, you'd be safe."
"Safe?" Anya let out a bitter laugh, her arms dropping to her sides. "You thought I'd be safe? I've never been safe, Wanda. Not with Hydra, not with the Red Room, not with anyone. And definitely not without you."
Wanda stood, her green eyes locking onto Anya's. "I know," she said quietly. "I know I hurt you, Anya. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now how wrong I was. I'm sorry."
Anya turned away, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You don't get to do this," she muttered. Her voice was low, but the anger in it was unmistakable.
"Do what?" Wanda asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Come back," Anya said, spinning around to face her. "You don't get to come back into my life and act like we can just pick up where we left off. Do you have any idea what I went through when I thought you were dead? Do you even care?"
"I care," Wanda said, her voice firmer now, stepping closer. "I cared every single day I was away from you, Anya. I never stopped thinking about you. Not once."
"Then why didn't you come back?" Anya demanded, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.
"Because they wouldn't let me see you," Wanda said, her voice trembling. "After everything, they told me the Red Room had taken you again. They said you were gone, Anya, and they said that I had to move on—for the sake of my powers, for the sake of what they needed me to do."
Anya's defenses crumbled slightly, tears stinging her eyes as her voice broke. "We were in love, Wanda. You were my safe place, the only thing I had left, and you just... left. You left me."
Wanda flinched at the words but stepped closer, her guilt quickly morphing into something more defensive. "You think I wanted to leave you?" Her voice cracked, trembling as she continued. "They told me you were gone, Anya. That the Red Room had taken you again. They wouldn't let me see you—Hydra said it was for my own good, for my powers. They said you were better off without me, and I believed them because I was too broken to think straight. What was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to fight for me!" Anya's voice rose, her emotions boiling over as she clenched her fists at her sides. "You were supposed to come for me, Wanda! You don't just abandon the person you love! I thought you were dead... dead! And instead of trying, you just... you moved on! You left me to rot in the worst hell imaginable while you—what? Focused on mastering your powers? How was I supposed to survive without you?"
Wanda's expression hardened as she folded her arms, trying to steady herself. "Do you think I had a choice? I wanted to fight for you, Anya, but I was barely holding myself together. They said you were gone, that there was no way to get you back—and I believed them because I couldn't see any other way! You think I didn't try? I begged them to let me look for you! I begged! But I was powerless!"
Anya stepped closer, her voice sharp and trembling. "Don't tell me you were powerless. You had your magic, Wanda. You had everything you needed to try, but you didn't because you let them convince you that it was easier to let me go."
"I didn't let you go!" Wanda's voice broke, and her arms dropped to her sides. "I didn't have a choice! They were watching my every move, and I—" She exhaled shakily, her eyes glistening with tears. "I thought I was protecting you by staying away, by not giving them a reason to come after both of us. But you're right. I failed you, Anya. I failed you, and I'll carry that guilt for the rest of my life."
The room grew quiet for a moment, the weight of their words filling the space. Anya's breathing was ragged, her chest rising and falling as she tried to steady herself. Her voice softened, trembling with raw emotion. "Do you even know what they did to me, Wanda? What I went through after I thought you were dead?"
Wanda shook her head slowly, her lips trembling. "No. But I know it was horrible. I can feel it—every time I look at you, I feel it, Anya. The pain, the anger, the betrayal. I feel everything, and it's killing me that I wasn't there to stop it."
Anya laughed bitterly, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You don't know the half of it. They didn't just take my body, Wanda. They took everything—my mind, my memories. They wiped me clean like I was nothing, and then they turned me into their weapon. And the worst part? I didn't even know who I was until the night they sent me to kill you."
Wanda inhaled sharply, her hand flying to her mouth as the words hit her like a physical blow. "Anya..."
"You broke through their control," Anya continued, her voice raw. "You were the only reason I remembered anything at all. But do you know how much that hurt? To see you standing there, alive, when I'd spent years thinking you were gone? And then to realize that all of it—all the pain, all the hell they put me through—was because of Hydra and Dreykov, because of them. Not you. Not me. Them."
Wanda didn't cry. She stood still, her expression a mixture of regret and quiet resolve, her arms crossed as if trying to ground herself. "It's not your fault," she said, her voice calm but firm. "None of it is. You didn't deserve what they did to you. And if I could undo it, if I could take all of that pain away, I would. But I can't, Anya. No one can. All I can do now is be here."
Anya let out a shaky breath, shaking her head as her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I don't know if I can," she admitted, her voice cracking. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this again."
"You are," Wanda said plainly, no hesitation in her tone. She took a step closer, her piercing gaze locked on Anya's. "You've always been stronger than you think. You survived Hydra. You survived the Red Room. And you're still standing here, despite everything. If that's not strength, I don't know what is."
Anya's eyes flicked toward Wanda's but quickly darted away. She tried to speak, but no words came. The silence between them was heavy. Wanda didn't move, her presence steady but distant, her expression unreadable. She didn't press Anya for a response, didn't step any closer. She just waited, letting the weight of the moment settle.
Outside in the hallway, Natasha was on her way to the training room when the muffled sound of raised voices caught her attention. She paused mid-step, recognizing Anya's voice, sharp and full of emotion, followed by Wanda's, firm but calmer. For a moment, Natasha debated whether to keep walking—this wasn't her business, after all but something made her stop.
Turning on her heel, she slowly walked back toward the door, staying far enough away to give them space but close enough to listen for signs of trouble. Natasha wasn't one to hover, and she knew better than to invade Anya's privacy. Anya hated people getting too close unless she asked for it, and Natasha respected that boundary. Still, she also knew the mix of emotions that could come from two people with such intense histories—especially when one of them had powers that could shatter walls and the other was a super soldier trained to kill.
She heard the argument rise and fall, the tension thick even through the closed door. Every so often, she glanced toward the room, debating whether to leave, but her gut told her to stay put. Not because Anya needed her—Natasha knew better than to assume that—but because sometimes being close, just in case, was enough.
The muffled voices eventually grew quieter, the heavy emotion in them giving way to something else. Natasha relaxed slightly but didn't move from her spot. She'd wait until she was sure everything had settled before heading on her way. After all, she wasn't here to meddle—just to make sure the people she cared about didn't fall apart completely.
Back in the room, the silence stretched, and Anya's defenses began to crack. She felt the familiar sting of tears, but she refused to let them fall. Her body trembled as the tide of emotions threatened to pull her under—anger, pain, relief, love, and a deep, sorrow she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.
Finally, her legs buckled, and she sank to her knees. Her hands pressed against her face as a sob escaped her lips. Wanda, caught off guard, hesitated for a moment. Then, slowly, she knelt in front of Anya.
Anya looked up at her, her tear-filled eyes meeting Wanda's steady gaze. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, as if something inside her finally broke, Anya leaned forward, crawling into Wanda's arms.
Wanda stiffened, unprepared for the sudden contact. Her hands hovered in the air for a moment before they instinctively settled around Anya, holding her carefully. She didn't speak, didn't try to console her with words. She simply held her, her grip firm and steady, as Anya buried her face in her shoulder and sobbed.
The room was quiet except for the sound of Anya's muffled cries. Wanda's gaze was distant, her jaw tight as she processed the moment. She wasn't used to this—comforting, being the steady one. But she didn't let go. Her hands moved slowly, one brushing against Anya's back, the other resting lightly on the back of her head.
Anya clung to her, her sobs coming in waves, years of buried pain and heartbreak pouring out of her. Wanda stayed silent, her presence solid and unyielding. She didn't offer platitudes or apologies; she simply let Anya cry, her arms tightening around her in quiet reassurance.
Minutes passed in the tense silence, and still, Wanda didn't move. She just let Anya stay against her, feeling the weight of her in her arms, the tension slowly dissipating as the sobs came to a halt. The sound of Anya's shaky breath gradually softened, until there was only a slight trembling in her chest, a sign of exhaustion settling in.
Wanda's gaze softened, but she kept her hands loosely around Anya, not wanting to crowd her. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Wanda spoke, her voice surprisingly gentle, though still edged with the rawness of their argument. "Better?"
Anya nodded weakly, lifting her face slightly, her voice barely audible. "A little."
Wanda didn't push her further. Instead, she stayed where she was, waiting for Anya to pull away when she was ready.
Eventually, Anya shifted slightly, lifting her head and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, not meeting Wanda's gaze. Neither of them seemed to know exactly what to say. Wanda stayed where she was, her posture a little stiffer than before, unsure of how to proceed.
Anya stood up suddenly, her movements stiff and jerky. "I should probably go take a shower... chill out for a bit," she muttered, her voice rough from the crying.
Wanda hesitated for a moment, then nodded, forcing a slight, awkward smile. "Yeah, I should, too," she said, standing up herself. She looked at Anya for a moment longer, unsure whether to say something more or just leave it at that.
Anya avoided her eyes, her hands rubbing at her face.
"Alright," Wanda said, her voice quiet, trying to break the silence. She turned toward the door. "I'll see you later," she added, though her words felt weak. She didn't want to sound like she was leaving for good, but she didn't know what else to say.
As Wanda reached the door, she noticed Anya didn't respond, only nodding to herself, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Wanda stepped out into the hallway, but before she could walk too far, she saw Natasha heading in the opposite direction. She paused for a moment, just watching as Natasha approached.
"Everything okay?" Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow, though she already knew the answer.
Wanda nodded, giving a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just... needed some space, I guess."
As Wanda started to turn away, she heard the sound of Anya's thoughts rushing to the forefront of her mind. They weren't directed at her, but she could hear and feel every emotion.
I really missed her... I loved her so much
Wanda's heart twisted painfully, her steps faltering for a second. Anya's thoughts hurt more than Wanda had expected. She had loved her. She had. But hearing loved instead of love... it felt like a blow to her chest.
Wanda lingered by the door, trying to steady herself as the thoughts continued, even if Anya hadn't said them aloud. She doesn't love me anymore. She's moved on. Wanda didn't want to believe it, but she couldn't get rid of the feeling that Anya was already starting to let go.
Maybe it wasn't the new Anya that Wanda still loved. Maybe she was still in love with the Anya she had known before everything fell apart. Maybe she had to come to terms with the fact that the person she had been in love with was no longer who stood in front of her.
She walked slowly back to her room. She kept thinking about Anya—how much she had changed, how much they both had changed. Maybe it wasn't the new Anya that Wanda still loved. Maybe she was still in love with the Anya she had known before everything fell apart. The Anya who had been her safe place. The one who had pulled her back from the darkness when she felt herself slipping.
But now... now there was distance between them. Maybe the woman she had been in love with was lost, a memory that couldn't be reached anymore. Wanda wasn't sure if she was mourning the woman she had loved, or the idea of who she thought Anya was. She had to face the truth—maybe she was in love with the old Anya. Not the one standing in front of her now.
Her breath hitched as she reached her room. She closed the door quietly behind her, shutting herself off from everything for a moment. Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on the desk where a framed photo sat. It was a picture of her and Pietro, taken years ago, back when things were simpler, before their lives had been torn apart.
Wanda reached for the frame, her fingers trembling as she picked it up. Her chest tightened at the sight of his smile, a smile so familiar and yet so distant now. She could almost hear his voice, feel his presence like a shadow at her side. "We'll be alright, Wanda," he used to say. "We always are."
But they hadn't been alright. She wasn't alright. Pietro was gone, and Anya... Anya was a ghost of who she had been. There were so many things Wanda wished she could have done differently. If only she had done more to protect them, to keep them safe. If she hadn't been so consumed by her own pain, maybe she could have saved Pietro. Maybe she could have saved Anya.
Tears began to fall as Wanda sank down to the floor, clutching the photo to her chest. She curled into herself, her sobs quiet at first, then growing louder as the weight of everything crushed her. She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but time seemed to stretch on and on, her mind spiraling into a vortex of guilt and regret.
I should've done more for Pietro.
I should've saved him.
Why didn't I protect him?
The pain of Pietro's death was something Wanda couldn't outrun, no matter how hard she tried. She felt like a part of her had died with him. And yet, as much as she cried for Pietro, her mind kept drifting back to Anya. To the woman she still loved, even though everything was so different now.
I should've never left her. I should've never walked away. I should've fought harder for us.
The guilt gnawed at her insides, deep and relentless. How could I leave her? She didn't even know who she was anymore, but Wanda had loved her. I still love her.
But no matter how much she loved Anya, it didn't change what had happened. It didn't change that the woman standing in front of her now was not the same person. Anya was broken, just like Wanda was, and Wanda had no idea how to fix that.
Tears blurred her vision as she let herself cry for both of them—for Pietro, for Anya, for herself. She let herself feel the weight of her grief, of the emptiness that had settled inside her over the years. She had survived so much, but at what cost? She had lost too many people—too many parts of herself—and now she didn't know how to rebuild.
The hours dragged on, and Wanda's sobs eventually quieted. Her body ached from crying, her chest tight, her face swollen and red. She finally stopped, sitting on the floor, the silence in the room almost deafening. The photo of Pietro still clutched in her hand, now damp with her tears.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to calm her breathing. It felt like a lifetime since she'd cried like this. I've cried so much, but it never seems enough. Never enough to make the pain go away.
As the evening darkened, she sat there, still as a statue, trying to collect herself. She wasn't sure how long she had been like this, but she knew she couldn't stay on the floor forever. She had to pull herself together. She had to keep moving forward, even if it felt impossible.
Wanda eventually stood, slowly putting the picture of Pietro back on the desk. She forced herself to look at it one last time before turning away, her heart heavy with all the things she couldn't say, all the things she had never had the chance to.
It wasn't over. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to stop living in the past.
The hours passed slowly, the day lingering in Wanda's mind long after the sun had set. The shadows in her room seemed to grow deeper, but even the dark couldn't provide her the comfort she desperately sought. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, the sound of her own heartbeat too loud in her ears. She tried to find a rhythm, tried to silence the constant barrage of thoughts that refused to stop.
Every time she closed her eyes, a new memory surfaced, Pietro's last moments, the look in Anya's eyes before everything fell apart, the confusion and betrayal that had twisted their relationship. She tried to focus on the present, on the things that mattered now, but it was hard. The past kept clawing at her, dragging her back to places she wasn't ready to visit.
The clock ticked in the background, its steady rhythm a reminder that time was moving on while she remained stuck. She shifted under the covers, adjusting her position in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Her mind raced. She should've been able to sleep by now, but it felt impossible. Every attempt to calm herself only seemed to make the weight heavier. Wanda tried breathing exercises, counting to ten in her mind, but it didn't help. The memories were too vivid, too painful.
She pulled the blankets away from her legs, hoping the cool air would offer some relief. It didn't. She sat up, rubbing her face with both hands, the burn of exhaustion beginning to settle in her bones, but sleep still eluded her. She glanced at the window, the moonlight casting a pale glow across the floor, and for a moment, she wished she could escape it all. Just slip away into a dreamless sleep where the past couldn't reach her.
But as much as she wished for rest, she knew it wasn't coming. At least, not tonight.
The night stretched on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Wanda tossed and turned in her bed. No matter how many times she tried to close her eyes, memories of Pietro, of Anya, of everything that had happened, flooded her thoughts.
With a frustrated sigh, Wanda sat up in bed, running a hand through her tangled hair. She glanced at the clock—almost 3:00 AM. She knew she wouldn't sleep tonight, not with everything weighing on her.
Standing up, she pulled on a pair of soft pajamas and padded out of her room. The hall was dim, the lights casting faint shadows on the walls. She passed Anya's room, the door slightly ajar. She hesitated, her hand hovering near the doorframe. She needed comfort, even if it was just to know Anya was okay. She had to see her, had to know she was alright.
Carefully, Wanda cracked the door open. Inside, she saw Anya lying in bed, her body curled up in a tight ball.
Without thinking, Wanda's focus sharpened. Her mind reached out, connecting with Anya's thoughts. She didn't want to invade her privacy, but the moment she did, her stomach dropped.
Pain. Fear. Anger. The emotions hit Wanda. She could feel the struggle in Anya's mind, the anger she couldn't release, the fear of being alone in the dark with her thoughts. Wanda frowned, her heart breaking for the woman she still loved, even if she didn't know how to help her.
She pulled herself out of the room quickly, her footsteps soft as she retreated down the hallway. Anya wasn't sleeping, and it wasn't her place to intrude.
Wanda made her way to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water would help calm her nerves. The cool liquid slid down her throat, but it didn't ease the ache in her chest. She moved to the common room, the quiet space feeling comforting. The dim light from the TV flickered across the room as she sat down, her gaze fixed on the empty walls. She had no real desire to watch the show, but the noise—something mindless and familiar—seemed to dull the sharp edges of her thoughts.
She flipped through the channels aimlessly, landing on an old sitcom. It was one she used to watch with Pietro when they were younger, a show full of lighthearted jokes and absurd situations.
Wanda sighed softly and let her mind wander. Her eyes drifted shut as the laughter from the TV filled the room. She couldn't stop thinking about Pietro. She missed him so much.
Eventually, the laughter from the TV faded into the background as her eyelids grew heavy. Wanda's breath slowed, her body finally succumbing to exhaustion, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep, sitting on the couch with the soft glow of the television casting shadows around her.
In her dreams, Pietro was there, laughing beside her, his smile as bright and warm as it had been before the world changed. But even in her sleep, Wanda knew that the world would never be the same again. And as much as she wanted to hold on to the past, she also knew that there was no going back.