Pietro.
unknown location,
unknown timeline.
she didn't understand the best of it until she lost it.
Did she ever think that she would've been desperate for the touch of the sun?
Yearning for the slightest feeling of warmth. She won't care if it burns her eyes, or smolder her skin enough to peel. She doesn't care because she just wants to feel it, just wants the coldness to disappear.
Or did she think would be begging for a smell? She doesn’t know which one she wants, but she thinks she forgot the smell of flowers, was it a sweet fruity scent? Or a rotten one that she couldn't stand? She also forgotten the welcoming scent of candles, or burning wood, she even misses the smell of Pietro's sweaty socks, or the musky smell of his hair.
She misses a touch, that didn't make her skin crawl.
She misses the absence of fear.
Her head dropped, she missed freedom.
•
Natasha hates the military.
She despises that almost her entire family is a part of it.
Her father was in the military, he was in a Navy Seal, unlike the others. She doesn't know what happened during his time, but she knows it fucked him up.
He wasn't always an asshole.
She remembers a time when he was a picture-perfect dad. He would have tea parties with her, and sometimes, he even would take her and Frank out of school, and out to a restaurant, trying to spend time with them. But after one horrible deployment, where he lost his leg, when he came home he had never been the same.
He never hurt her like he did her mother and Frankie. He would yell a lot through, and criticize her to the most extent but never touch her. He became an alcoholic, held so tightly on to his bottle, while he lost grip on his family. Honestly, if they were lost at sea, he would throw them overboard just to save his whiskey.
She doesn't know why, Frank went to the military. He had joined when Natasha was around 14. For a while, he was interested in the Navy, his eyes used to shine at the thought of being on sea. But he went to the Marines instead, he didn't want to end up like his father.
Frank followed the same rules Dad did. Whatever happens on base, stays there. When he came home, he was different too. He wasn't angry, just quiet, and smiled less.
She remembers the day, Pietro slipped up and told her about stories, both her father and Frankie told him. That's when she realized the don't-tell rule was only applied to her.
Through those stories, Frank, kind of, inspired Wanda and Pietro to join. They held Frank on a pedestal, and looked up to him like he was their hero. They followed in his footsteps and joined the Marine Corps. Natasha could almost feel how angry she was when Wanda told her. They had never yelled at each other, or argued, but on that day their relationship kind of flipped.
That was the reason for their first and only breakup. Natasha couldn’t handled the thought of someone else she loved, losing themselves to the military.
It didn't take long for them to get back together, and for her to see that Wanda had followed the same rule as everyone else did, well, everyone except Pietro. He would always tell her a story. And if he couldn't, he would draw one. He'll paint a portrait that says much more than his words ever could.
She looked towards her wife, who was face down on the bed, her hair splattered across her pillow. She doesn't look peaceful, the slight twitch of her brow tells Natasha that something is going on in her mind. Hurts knowing she wasn't at peace, even in her dreams.
She bit her bottom lip, eyes trailing to her wife's body, her, beside her sports bra, naked back specifically. There were wide scars, going across her back like burns. Natasha couldn't bear to imagine what they had looked like when they were fresh. She grimaced, at the thought of her red boiling flesh, swollen skin.
Natasha leaned down, pressing her lips against her muscled shoulder, almost immediately she felt them flex. She closed her eyes, breathing through her nose.
Natasha doesn't know how she does it, a bomb could explode in front of her, and she, herself, wouldn't wake up, but the brunette is awakened by the simplest sound or slight touch, it amazes the doctor, but also disappoints her. The only reason, she was able to do that was fear, her body was on high alert, it let Natasha know, that no matter how calm she looked, she wasn't relaxed.
"What are you doing?" A muffled voice spoke out through their pillows. Wanda doesn't move her head to see the blonde, who smiles, softly, placing her hand on the small of the marine's back.
"Thinking," She stated, simply.
"Then stop, I'm trying to sleep."
Natasha pinched her skin, causing Wanda to wiggle her hips away from her touch while grunting.
She chuckled, at the childish action, before watching as the brunette huffed, while stretching her arms and legs out like a cat.
She leaned up, resting her cheek on the base of her palm, giving Natasha her full attention despite her complaining. The brunette wetted her chapped lips, creasing her brows, "What's on your beautiful mind?"
Natasha bit her tongue, she can't ask. She knows how Wanda gets when she asks about the military, it's the same way Frank acts. They'll get defensive, and closed-off, and eventually they would decide to deflect the attention from themselves, somehow and in some way they always do.
Frankie used to tell her that the pains he endured weren't for her mind to bear.
She hates it but doesn't fight it.
"Would you like pancakes or waffles for breakfast?"
She watched Wanda's eyes dart down her face, and Natasha waited. She waited for the brunette to say something about her lie, from the slight tilt of her head, Natasha knew she had caught it. But instead of pointing it out, Wanda just squinted her eyes, "Is that even a real question?"
Natasha hummed, "Yes, it is. Billy doesn't like the texture of waffles."
Wanda's brows furrowed, "But he loves pancakes?"
Natasha shrugged her shoulders, as a response, causing Wanda to shake her head.
"Your son is weird."
"Well, his mother is weirder."
Wanda squinted her eyes, a smile surging from her lips, "You are one weird person."
She frowned, reaching out her hand, but Wanda grabbed her wrist before she could ever think about pinching her waist.
Natasha huffed, slightly, opening her mouth to speak but Wanda stopped her from doing that as well. By dipping her head downwards, and pressing their lips together, silencing the doctor, who didn't put up much fight to that.
Natasha couldn't help deepening the kiss, by tilting her neck upwards slightly, her lips parted. She had missed this, the sweetness of Wanda, her gentle touches.
She felt the vibration of the hum, coming from her lips as her fingertips moved to the back of the chestnut's neck. Wanda's nails scratched at the band of her shorts, tugging slightly, as three knocks came from the door.
The women paused, their hands freezing on each other's bodies. Natasha's eyes went towards the door, her brows creasing.
"Mom!"
Pounding at the door once more. She thanked the Gods that she finally had gotten the knocking rule inside of their heads.
"I know you're awake, Mom, it's seven— hey!"
Tommy's voice shot through, Natasha chuckled as Wanda pulled away, with a slight smile.
The brunette rolled over, laying back on her side of the bed, as Natasha sat up, "Come in!" She shouted towards their twins, who immediately opened the door. The doctor pulled herself up, resting her back against the headboard, as the boys rushed in with their matching pajamas set. Natasha remembers the boys buying their mothers the same one as a gift for Mother's Day last year, they've been lying in their drawer for months, untouched.
They looked at their parents, and smiled, widely, before leaping onto the bed. Wanda groaned, playfully, as they landed on top of her. Tommy rolled off of his mother's body, as Billy stayed.
She smiled, watching as Billy crawled up the brunette's body, wrapping his arms around her neck. She felt Tommy laying the back of his head down on her stomach. Natasha moved her fingers through her boy's curls, as Wanda wrapped her arm around Billy's back.
"We are going to have so much fun today!" Billy exclaimed, his parents frowned.
"Are we?"
Billy nodded his head, rapidly, she felt Tommy's head move against her, letting Natasha know he was doing it as well. "Yeah! We'll go to the arcade! Play the games, especially mini golf, and that batting game Mama and I love!"
Wanda chuckled, "You have everything planned out, huh?"
The twins, in sync, nodded their heads again, eagerly. Billy sat up on his knees, "We'll leave after breakfast, right?"
Their parents glanced at each other, before saying:
"Of course."
"No."
Both Wanda and the twins' eyes widened. They all looked at her, with the same confused expression. Natasha frowned, shaking her head, "We have to go to Frank's house for the cookout, I'm sorry, boys, we won't be able to do that today."
The boys' shoulders slumped, in sync, they both let out a defeated blow of breath, sighing. The sad looks on their faces, break her heart.
"But we will tomorrow." Causing the light in their eyes to flare, Natasha's brows rose, as she turned to her wife, who despite the glare, continued, "We'll wake up at ten, and have the most delicious breakfast, then we're go to the arcade, and we might as much as add go-karts to the to-do list. Honestly, It would be the perfect night." Her eyes widened, as well did her sons for two completely different reasons.
Wanda had looked up at her, beaming.
"Right, Tasha?" She asked, causing the boys' brows to raise, and for them to copy her action.
"Yeah, right, Mom?" The twins mimicked, excitedly.
At that moment, it was as if her genes were nonexistent, as the boys stared up with sparkling eyes, so identical to their mother's, even their smiles were nearly matching.
The only difference was the twin's smiles were soft and innocent looking, while Wanda's was all smug and cocky, knowing that Natasha couldn't say no.
She sighed as if she thought she was going to deny them, it was already hard enough to say no the first time.
"Of course, it'll be fun to beat your mom in DDR." Natasha smiled, while Wanda scoffed, causing their children to laugh.
•
Castle's backyard,
5 hours later.
The smell of barbecued chicken and burgers hit her nostrils, as the smoke circled the area, like a pie from a Disney movie.
She smiled, as she stood underneath the welcome back sign. The sun beamed down, a gentle breeze blowing in the wind, as her family and friends crowded around, smiling. The sound of children's laughter echoed through the yard, while random 90's music played on the speakers. She tipped her bottle of water towards her mouth, silently, taking a sip.
"Welcome back, Wanda!"
Her eyes widened, as she turned her head, her eyes meeting a pale-skinned man, with grayish-raven hair. He flashed her a grin, and Wanda smiled back, softly, nodding. She didn't know who is this by name, but she remembered his face.
"It's great to be back."
They went silent, Wanda waited for him to leave, but instead, he turned his head, eyes darting around the area, searching for something. Wanda's brows furrowed, as the guy frowned, "Where's your brother? I want to send him my greetings."
Her expression dropped, drastically.
She watched his mouth move, words spilling from his lips, but she couldn't hear him. All she could hear was his question repeating in her head, like a siren. Demanding for the answer, for Pietro...
She breathed in, deeply, letting out a gasp.
The ruthless sound of gunfire bruised her ears, her eyes filling with tears, watching as the body in front of her was transformed into the unrecognizable.
She jerked back, the red liquid splattered across the room, against the walls, the floors, her.
It touches her forehead, and she feels it leaking down her cheek, mixing with her tears and blood, before dripping down her chin, it goes silent.
No more firing, no sound of gun shells crashing against the floor, no laughter, no crying.
She looked up and saw him.
His face was gone, his body ruined, the only sight was the flesh wounds on his skin, his blood leaking holes.
For the first time in his life, he was silent.
He was dead.
"I will fucking kill you!"
She growled, the roughness comes deep within her soul. Her nails dug down into the wooden rests that holds her hostage, "You hear me?! I will kill you!" Her nose flares and no one respond.
She bites her tongue, breathing in deeply from her nose.
"Yo, Wanda!"
She blinked, and it was a pushback to reality. Her head snapped towards the sound, and she believed the man, who was practically talking to himself, did too.
Her eyes set on a brown-skinned male, wearing jeans that were ripped on the ends to make shorts, waving her over.
She blinked, slowly, "I'm sorry."
She looked back to the man, who brushed off her apology, and smiled, "It's fine," he said, before raising his glass in farewell, "It was nice seeing you, Wanda."
The brunette smiled, tightly, "you too."
Then she walked away, and towards the picnic table, where Sam stood, while holding a flavor little hug in his hand. His brows furrowed when she got to the spot in front of him. He glanced over her shoulder, squinting his eyes, "You looked hella uncomfortable, what did he say?"
She shook her head, "He did nothing..." no, it was all her fault.
He looked at her, closely, with concern in his eyes, "Are you sure?" She nodded, trying, and hopefully not failing, to seem firm.
She doesn't know if he believed it or not, but his shoulders had slumped for a second before he straightened himself, and thankfully eased up on the questionnaire. He shook his head, and began to gratefully change the conversation, "Okay, well, that's not the only reason I force you over here."
She raised a brow, causing him to smirk. "What do you need?"
"I have this important project tomorrow, and I would like you to come," Sam said, without explaining and adding an exaggeration on the important.
She shrugged, lazily, "Uh, sure."
He grinned, widely, causing her to narrow her eyes, it was one of his smiles that never meant good. Now she wished she had asked, before agreeing.
"Thank you, wear your uniform!" And before she could even utter the words, why, Sam ran into the crowd, Wanda chuckled, slightly, watching as he bumped into Frank, who was approaching her direction.
Wanda smirked.
"Man, that guy..." Frank shook his head, "so weird."
Wanda noticed the slightest curl of his lip, as he spoke, and Wanda laughed, softly, "Yeah, you love him for it." She heard his faint chuckle, and then for a while, neither of them spoke.
He allowed her to look around, enjoy them, this.
Frank nodded, "how are you doing?"
His smile disappeared and was replaced with a solemn expression. Wanda tried not to be affected by his drastic change of mood, as she sighed. He knows her, and somehow, she knows him. So she knew he was asking beyond the present and her physical view. She could practically hear what he truly wanted to ask. He needed answers for the past, her sanity, and her pain.
She bites her tongue, harsh enough to taste blood. "I'm..." Wanda wanted to say good. That she never felt better, she's so glad to be home and be able to relax.
But that would all be a lie.
She smiled, which felt like biting metal, "I'm surviving." Surviving like a caged animal would survive in a ferocious territory.
With few words spoken, he rolled his jaw, while bobbing his head, as if he understood everything.
Of course, he did.
He knows that, somehow this still didn't feel real to her. She's been pulled into a dream, that felt too good to be hers. Wanda sighed through her nose, wishing she had, at least, a beer, instead of this damn empty water bottle.
"You know that, I got you, right? When you want to stop."
She hummed, looking away, her nails scraping against the label of the bottle. When she wanted to stop surviving... funny. Survival was built into her bones like it was in his. It was kind of hypocritical of him to say that he would be there when she decided to stop because he never has.
No matter how much they fought to forget, they will always act on their instincts, like the dogs the military trained them to be.
They'll always remember being those pups placed into the new home, learning life, and becoming canines, defeating and depending on who commands them.
And when the fight was over, they'll remember becoming feral. Wild animals without a leader, who are then forced back to a place they're not sure they remember.
Wanda bit her tongue, "okay..."
Then he nodded, both already knowing she never will.
•
"Did you ever mourn?"
"Pietro?"
Ignoring the thumping against the windowpane, as the branches shook. A rainstorm roared from the outside, winds blowing more harshly than ever before. She frowned, reaching back, and tucking her damped hair behind her ears, as the therapist shook her head.
"Any of them, Wanda."
Wanda leaned back on the couch, tugging her sleeves down to her fingers. Unlike usually where she would stretch out on the couch, like was her bed, her muddy boots stayed glued to the carpet. She glanced towards the door, then the clock, scratching her nails against her neck.
"Wanda."
Her head turned to the doctor, who narrowed her eyes. Wanda lowered her head, practically trying to bury herself into the furniture, which caused the other woman's gaze to soften. She sighed, "Did you allow yourself that chance?"
She opened and closed her mouth, before sliding her tongue across her chapped lips, then admitted, "I... I never had time to mourn."
Her life moved too quickly.
Nothing ever stayed the same for too long to allow her to think about life. About what happened, what she did, or saw, and especially no time to mourn.
The grey-haired woman nodded, leisurely, before adding, "But you do now."
"I do."
The older woman's brows creased, "Why aren't you?"
She fought the need to shrug her shoulders, to brush it off and say, I don't know because she did.
The only problem was she didn't know how to.
When she was younger, she felt like she didn't need to mourn her parents, honestly, she didn't remember much to mourn. Sometimes she thinks back to memories of them, both good and bad, and feels nothing.
She remembered loving her mother, dearly, and that she enjoyed her father's affection, but she doesn't feel what remembered.
She didn't know her uncle enough to mourn.
She didn't have the chance to mourn Pietro, and when she did, it hurt too much to want to. She never grieved her fellow soldiers and so many others.
She pressed her palm into her knuckles, her brows furrowed. A dull pop echoed inside her head, distant and hollow, like the hushed roar of a seashell, and sadly, like her memories.
"And how would I do that?"
The therapist smiled softly, pleased that Wanda seemed ready to engage, not just listen, "talking helps."
•
Maximoff's house,
midnight.
It's been hours since the get-together. Wanda didn't speak much after her discussions with the man, and Frank. Her children didn't say anything about her lack of response, and neither did her wife. Although the doctor didn't outright speak on it, doesn't mean she ignored it.
Wanda had felt her eyes boring into the side of her head when she drove them home.
She had rushed to help the children to bed, pulling herself away from the pending conversation.
After she changed, and talked Billy to sleep, she went to Tommy's room. She finds the kid passed out on his bed, with his leg hanging off the edge, and his cover barely over his shoulder.
She chuckled, gently grabbing his ankle, and moving it up on his mattress, before tugging his blanket upwards. The boy grumbled, burying his face into his pillow.
Wanda smiled, softly, at the action.
It faltered, as she sighed, watching as his back rises and falls, while subconsciously counting the pace.
One up, one down, then repeats, over and over again. Her eyes stayed glued on him, making sure it wasn't too fast or too slow. She looked at the side of his face, it was calm and gentle like it wasn't a war in his mind.
She never felt so grateful for a peaceful night.
"you're being weird again?"
Wanda's eyes snapped away, and towards the sound, to see her wife, in a white robe, leaning against the door, watching them with a gentle smile.
Wanda swallowed, she used to do this every night she came home. She'd lay beside the twins' bed, specifically Tommy's, and watch them breathe, she wouldn't be able to sleep if she didn't. Wanda lets out a throaty chuckle while caressing her jaw, "Yeah..."
Natasha shook her head, before holding out her hand, "Come on."
Without a fight, Wanda stepped towards her and let her fingers fall into her palm. The blonde intertwined their fingers, while pulling the brunette out of the room, who closed Tommy's door behind her.
They, silently, moved down the hall. They sneaked a peek at Billy's room, before entering their own.
"how's he sleeping?" Wanda asked, sitting on the bed, while sneaking a glance at the closed room. Natasha untied her robe, presenting herself in a black set of bra and panties, as the cover fell off her shoulders.
"Better now that you're here," Natasha responded.
Wanda hummed, moving her body from a sitting position, as she laid down on the bed. She sighed, happily, as soon as her head dropped comfortably against the fluffy pillows. Her wife chuckled, causing Wanda to open her eyes, to see Natasha looking down at her, with an amused expression.
Wanda opened her arms and watched as her wife smiled, softly. Natasha crawled into the bed, before moving to lay herself down on the marine's chest. Wanda's arms wrapped around her back, pulling her closer. The brunette breathed in, deeply through her nose. Natasha nudged her cheek, with her head, as she spoke, "He said, you make him feel safe."
Wanda scoffed, her head falling to her shoulder, safe wouldn't be the word she'd use. Natasha's lips pressed against the side of her head, and Wanda closed her eyes, tightening her grip around her.
"We all do."