Subject 00-113
“The hardest part isn’t pulling someone from the fire. It’s convincing them they aren’t still burning.”
The quinjet touched down with barely a whisper against the rooftop landing pad.
Wanda watched the skyline through the small window by her seat, still half asleep. The city wasn’t buzzing yet. No honking cars, no blur of lights. Just that strange quiet that clung to mid mornings when the world hadn't quite put its armor back on.
Fitting.
Behind her, she could feel Aliah shifting restlessly in the seat, wrapped tight in the silver emergency blanket like it could somehow make her invisible.
Natasha was already up, moving with that same catlike, unbothered grace she always had before a mission… or after one they hadn't expected.
The ramp lowered with a hiss.
Cold air flooded the cabin, sharp enough to make Wanda blink hard once, twice.
Aliah didn’t move.
"Come on. It’s okay." Wanda said gently, standing and offering her hand without expectation.
For a long beat, Aliah just stared at it.
Then, slowly, she unfolded herself from the seat and followed.
Not touching. Not grabbing. Just moving in the shadow Wanda made for her.
Bruce was waiting at the far end of the platform, arms loose at his sides, wearing a soft hoodie and sneakers like he hadn’t been briefed that they were bringing back a potential unstable asset.
Wanda appreciated that.
So did Aliah, if the way she didn’t immediately spark was anything to go by. She was still on edge, but she didn’t feel threatened.
Steve and Sam stepped off the jet behind them, staying a few paces back… clearly trying not to box her in. Natasha flanked Aliah's other side without a word, her presence solid and non-threatening.
It worked.
Aliah kept walking.
Small victories.
"Hey there." Bruce said when they got close enough. His voice was low, even. Like he was greeting a spooked animal, not a teenage girl wrapped in fear and static.
"I’m Bruce. I’m not gonna poke or prod you, okay? Just wanna make sure you're feeling alright."
Aliah’s fingers twitched at her sides.
Wanda could feel the tension climbing her spine, that buzz of energy crackling just under her skin.
She stepped a little closer, not blocking Bruce, but standing between Aliah and the unknown anyway.
"If you're hurt." Wanda said softly. "Bruce can help. But only if you want."
Aliah’s eyes flickered between them… wide, calculating, too old for her age. Whatever her age may be.
Then, finally, she nodded once.
Tiny. Barely more than a dip of her chin.
Bruce smiled. Again, small victories.
"Alright." He said gently. "Let's get you somewhere quiet. No tests. Just a check-up."
Aliah flinched at the word ‘tests’, but Wanda caught it… and Bruce did, too. He didn’t push.
Just turned and started walking toward the door inside, slow enough that Aliah could set the pace if she wanted.
Wanda glanced at Natasha once as they followed, just a flick of her eyes. Natasha didn’t say anything, but the tight set of her jaw said plenty.
They both knew it.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
Wanda could feel it in the tightness of Aliah's movements, the way her feet barely made noise against the floor, the way her head kept snapping toward every creak and hum of machinery.
She was absorbing everything.
Aliah kept her eyes flickering. 5 exits. 7 people. 2 flights of stairs.
Not that any of this information was useful for her, but it was comforting. She could never escape with other people in the room who were powerful like she was. It's just what she was trained to do.
Catalog everything. Forget nothing.
Bruce led them toward the temporary medical bay, repurposed conference room, wide open, sterile as a lab. No locks. No restraints.
But the moment they crossed the threshold, Aliah froze.
Wanda felt the shift in the air before she even turned.
Aliah’s body went rigid, her breath hitching sharp and fast. Her fingers twitched violently and some of the metal tools began to float. Sparks of white energy flickered uncontrolled at the tips of her hands.
Hydra Base: Hemlock - 2 Years Ago
Aliah sat bare, in nothing but a hospital gown on the edge of a hospital bed. Her eyes flickered around, German and Russian soldiers walking around with clipboards on the other side of a 3-inch pane of glass while Doctor Evez stood next to her with a long needle that could only be compared in size to an epidermic needle.
“One last injection, and you will be our greatest achievement.”
“No more after this?” She asked in a soft, timid voice.
“No more, 113.”
Aliah nodded, wincing as the probe went in. She stayed quiet as Doctor Evez conducted his procedure, him speaking aloud to the soldiers on the other side of the glass. Accent thick.
“Genesis Subject 00-113 has shown remarkable adherence to advancements. The donor genetics are exceptionally compatible.”
“This is the final procedure needed to stabilize the DNA. Since the donors are both enhanced, one genetically and the other post term, it is imperative that the two samples merge completely before they can begin to grow on their own. Since Subject 113 is 12.7 years post full-term, the cells will continue to regenerate until the subject has reached 21 years of age.”
A silver/blue liquid began to filter in the needle. It burned slightly.
“Subject 113 is the only full term success of these donors. Unfortunately any other samples of the donors were used in the previous test subjects. A perfect specimen for the Widow selection. Subject 00-113 is one of a kind.”
He turned towards Aliah with a sick smile on his face. “Aren’t you, 113?”
The burning stopped, her eyes and senses can tell she’s not in the facility anymore, but her feelings still exist.
Wanda took a step toward her, but the girl recoiled instantly, stumbling back into the doorframe with a clang.
Aliah shook her head and dropped to her knees.
The white energy surged around her in a wild pulse, sharp enough to make the light panels flicker.
Bruce immediately stepped back, hands up, his voice calm. "Okay. Okay."
Natasha moved subtly… placing herself between Aliah and the nearest sharp object, casual and non-threatening.
Wanda crouched down low, palms open, heart in her throat. “What do you need?"
Aliah’s breaths came in ragged, fast little gasps, her eyes wide and wild. Glowing.
Wanda didn’t dare reach for her. Not yet.
Instead she did the one thing she knew would calm her. She let her own magic show.
Red mist drifted lightly from her palms, swirling harmlessly into the air. Calm, controlled, gentle.
Not a weapon.
Not a trap.
A simple message. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Aliah stared at the mist.
Her trembling slowed, barely, but enough. Enough for Wanda to see her. Enough for Aliah to blink hard, trying to drag herself back from wherever she’d gone.
Wanda kept her voice soft. "What do you need, sweetheart?"
Aliah didn’t answer with words. She just glanced at the med bay again… At the too-bright lights, the clinical smell, and shook her head violently.
Wanda nodded. No hesitation.
"Okay." She said. "No hospitals."
She turned her head toward Bruce and Natasha.
“Do you want to come upstairs? I can show you some TV shows that I like to watch.”
Aliah nodded, her eyes slowly returning to her normal color. Her fingers didn't stop trembling but she followed close behind Wanda and Natasha.
The elevator ride was silent.
Not the comfortable kind.
The heavy, uncertain kind. The kind where every floor ding sounded too loud against the tension stretched thin between them.
Aliah stayed close to Wanda’s side, her hands still trembling but only slightly. White energy flickered faintly at her knuckles, but it didn’t lash out.
Not yet.
Natasha stood on the opposite side of the elevator, arms folded, watching the numbers light up one by one.
She wasn’t guarding. She was waiting.
Like she knew that Aliah could take care of herself, but that she wouldn't turn for help. Natasha saw herself in the young girl. She looked at the girl almost in remembrance. When Clint had first brought her to the tower, she felt like an outsider.
The doors slid open onto the residential floor Wanda and Natasha shared… simple, private, a little worn around the edges in the way real homes were.
The common area was dimly lit by a single standing lamp. A soft throw blanket was crumpled on the couch. Fred the half-dead plant sagged sideways in his pot.
It smelled like cinnamon candle wax and whatever Natasha’s version of dinner had been the night before.
It didn’t smell like hospitals.
It didn’t hum with the weight of surveillance.
It felt... human.
Wanda stepped out first, glancing back to offer the smallest, most careful smile.
"You can stay here with me and Nat." She said quietly. "As long as you want."
Aliah hovered at the threshold for a second, like she wasn’t sure she was really being offered anything.
But then she crossed over.
Small, silent steps.
No explosions. No resistance.
Just a girl stepping into a place that didn’t expect her to be dangerous.
Wanda kicked off her boots by the door, peeling off her jacket and tossing it haphazardly onto the couch.
Natasha hung back by the window, flicking the blinds half shut without being asked. Dimming the outside world a little more.
Small acts of protection.
Not orders. Not commands.
Just... space.
"We can put something on, keep you distracted so Bruce can make sure everything is okay.” Natasha spoke smoothly.
Aliah didn’t answer. But she didn’t retreat either.
Wanda crouched and flipped through a few options, scrolling past news broadcasts, action movies, dark crime dramas.
Too loud.
Too violent.
Finally, she landed on something soft and ridiculous, her favorite. The Dick Van Dyke Show.
Gentle colors. Dumb jokes. A world with stakes small enough to laugh at.
Wanda hit play.
The TV glowed to life.
Aliah moved hesitantly toward the couch, still wrapped in the silver blanket like it might deflect betrayal.
She perched on the farthest corner, spine stiff, eyes locked onto the screen with the kind of sharp, terrified focus Wanda recognized too well.
Natasha sank into the armchair without a word, boots still on, one arm draped casually over the side.
Wanda took the middle seat… close enough for Aliah to feel, but not close enough to trap her.
She kept her hands visible. Kept her voice low. Her breathing is steady. And let the movie fill the space between them.
It wasn’t much.
It wasn’t a solution.
But it was a start.
And sometimes, survival wasn’t about running faster or fighting harder.
Sometimes it was just about finding a couch, and two strangers willing to sit still long enough for you to believe the world might not be trying to kill you after all.
Bruce stood there, wearing the same hoodie and sneakers, holding a small tablet tucked against his chest.
He didn't step inside.
Didn’t cross the threshold without permission.
"Just a quick visual check." He said gently, addressing Wanda, not Aliah. "Nothing invasive. Nothing scary."
Natasha glanced back at Aliah, watching, tense but silent. Wanda knelt beside the couch again, making herself smaller, less imposing.
"Would it be alright?" She asked Aliah directly. "Bruce just wants to make sure you're feeling okay. You can say no."
For a long moment, Aliah didn't move.
Then, very slowly, she gave one jerky nod.
Bruce entered carefully, staying several feet away.
No tools. No wires. Just a small light he kept pocketed.
He scanned Aliah visually… pupil reaction, breathing rhythm, minor tremors in her hands. He spoke softly as he worked.
"You’ve been through a lot." he said. "No one's expecting you to be okay overnight."
Aliah didn’t answer.
But she didn’t flinch away when he checked the old bruises on her wrists from whatever Hydra restraints had left behind.
Wanda stood closely, not hovering. “I know it’s hard right now, but if you remember anything, it would really help.”
Green eyes looked void of any emotion. Choosing carefully on what to say or think around the infamous Wanda Maximoff.
She’d heard whispers of her around Hydra. The runaway.
If she could get away, then that garnered some kind of trust.
Aliah opened her mind up softly to Wanda. “Subject 00-113. That’s what I was called.”
Wanda nodded softly and turned towards Natasha before speaking to Aliah again. “That’s good, sweetheart.”
“I can only remember that I had two donor samples and that they said I was almost 15 years post full term.”
“Is it okay if I share this with Nat?”
A soft nod.
The witch stood and pulled Natasha to the corner of the living room, keeping her eyes on the young girl whose focus was being pulled by the noise of the TV.
“She was given a number for her identification and I think she’s about 15 years old.”
Nat crossed her arms over her chest and spoke quietly, her mind trying to piece together the information. “Did she say anything else?”
“She remembers that she was made from only 2 donors.”
“Meaning only 2 samples of DNA.”
When Bruce finished, he nodded once, respectful, and stepped back immediately.
"All good." He said quietly. "No more check-ups unless you want them."
He turned to leave without lingering.
Natasha shut the door behind him with a soft click.
The show droned on in the background. Aliah perched on the far edge of the couch. Still braced for impact. But here.
Still here.
Wanda stayed cross legged on the floor, her back against the couch, close enough for Aliah to feel her presence but far enough not to crowd her.
Natasha had moved to the far corner of the room, pulling the window blinds lower with two fingers, cutting out the skyline’s last glimmer of sun from the afternoon.
Then she settled into the armchair, loose and casual, as if she'd just come back from a routine mission and this was just her ritual. Comfortable.
Her body language was perfect, lazy, indifferent… but Wanda didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes flicked toward every tiny noise Aliah made.
Protective.
Quiet about it.
But there.
Aliah hadn't said a word since Bruce had finished his careful check.
She still sat curled on the corner of the couch, a silver blanket clutched around her, eyes half lidded and distant.
Natasha could tell she was fighting sleep.
However long the girl must have been on edge, staying awake to assure her survival in an abandoned facility. Now again, in a foreign building with a bunch of people she doesn't know.
Aliah would drop at any second assuming for that time, she’d been awake.
50 hours. Since they received word of the facility. Then drafted a mission and rescue.
Around 50 hours, this girl had been awake. Ready to run at any moment.
But for now, she wasn’t running.
For now, she stayed.
Wanda let the quiet stretch.
It wasn’t uncomfortable.
It felt necessary.
Every second they didn’t demand something from Aliah was another second proving they weren’t here to chain her down.
A particularly ridiculous scene flickered across the screen and sharp noise escaped from Aliah's corner of the couch.
Not laughter.
Not quite.
Just a quick, startled huff of breath, immediately smothered like she hadn’t meant to make it.
Wanda pretended not to notice.
Natasha did too.
The movie kept playing.
The world stayed soft for one more minute.
Wanda let herself lean her head back against the couch, closing her eyes briefly.
She didn't sleep.
She wouldn’t, not yet.
There was too much weight still hanging in the air, too many unanswered questions.
Where Aliah had come from.
What Hydra and the Red Room had done to her.
Why did her powers felt so familiar.
But she intended to find out.
Somewhere across the room, Natasha shifted just enough to kick her boots off, letting them thunk quietly against the floor. She didn’t speak. She didn’t leave.
Neither did Wanda.
Neither did Aliah.
Natasha being the first to break the silence. “You can sleep. We won’t leave.”
Aliah just shook her head.
Without thinking it over anymore, Natasha grabbed the pillow from behind her on the chair, tossing it on the floor in front of the couch. Then she got down and slid into the space next to it. “If you can feel people like Wanda can, feel me here. I won’t leave your side while you sleep.”
Minutes go by, feeling like hours.
The widow returned her focus to the TV, allowing the girl to make her own decision. On her own time.
It was subtle, but it worked all the same. A small figure slid off the corner of the couch and laid her head down on the cushion.
For the first time in what must have been days, Aliah closed her eyes in a room that didn’t expect anything from her.
And the three of them stayed like that… Suspended in the slow hum of the TV, the warmth of shared breathing, the fragile peace of a night that hadn't shattered.
Not yet.
“How did you do that?” Wanda asked, just above a whisper.
Natasha let herself smile at the mess of hair next to her lap. Just close enough to feel the presence and warmth but not close enough to touch. “Beds and couches are too soft.”
“What?”
“When I first defected… I had to sleep with handcuffs on the bedpost.” She started. Speaking softly, monotone. “They made us sleep that way in the Red Room to make sure we wouldn’t leave or escape. It was a bad habit, but for the first few months here, it was the only thing that brought me comfort. The beds were too soft. It wasn’t what I was used to. I couldn’t sleep that way.”
“Nat…” Wanda’s voice cracked but Natasha just waved it off, having had time to process and accept her own past.
“If she was raised by Hydra, I’m assuming she never had a real bed. Maybe a cot. The couch is too soft. The floor isn’t.”
The witch just nodded. She blinked a few times to hide the wetness behind her eyes. So many emotions were flowing through her that she didn't know how to process.
She's been living with Natasha for years now, but she never knew this side of her.
Then the young girl who slept quietly on the floor, having never known a normal childhood.
What a mess this was.