Someone Take Me Home

Castle's house,

a day later.

Wanda stood outside, the warm sun shining, gazing at her reddening skin. The brunette looked at her son, who stood by her side, sipping on a capsule. His brown hair sticking to his forehead, she smiled, softly.

Wanda, gently, strokes the back of his head. He pulled away slightly, causing her to sigh. Tommy has been angsty with her since the morning. She doesn't know if he's truly anger at her, or he's just embarrassed, but honestly, she hopes it isn't the latter.

Wanda would rather have him angry at her than be embarrassed about something he couldn't control. 

She swallowed, shaking her head, reaching to grab her cup, when fingers wrapped around her hand. She frowned, looking up to see a pair of blue eyes staring back.

Frank grabbed her wrist, tugging her to the side, away from their family enough so they could see, but not hear.

They ended up in a far corner of the house, where trees covered the sun, and flies and mosquitoes flew around crazy like the annoying insects they were. She grimaced, swatting away a vermin. Frank sends one last glance towards their family, before looking back to Wanda, who folded her arms across her chest, staring at him, with a frown. Frank's dark brows furrowed, "Wanda? What was that call last night? What did you need to tell me?"

Wanda opened her mouth, then frowned, shaking her head. She glanced towards their family, their kids laughing, gathered around the pool, and the wives chatting. Wanda sighed, they can't talk about this here.

Wanda wetted her lips, "Let's go for a walk, leave your phone," Wanda said, Frank's eyes hardened, and almost instantly he realized how serious whatever she was going to tell him was.

Frank clenched his jaw, nodding his head.

Wanda swallowed, and he walked away. She was anxious about the conversation ahead. She grimaced, squashing the mosquito on her arm, then brushing it off, before scratching at the surface it bit. She can't believe she was so blind, so stupid, to think that he'd leave her alone.

Wanda shook her head, clenching her jaw, the pace of her scratching quickening the more she thought. 

"Aunt Wanda!" A voice shouted for her, her head snapped up to see her youngest and only niece rushing towards her. Smiling, with her two front teeth missing. 

"Hey, princess," Wanda greeted, gently.

"Do you see that?" Lisa exclaimed, pointing behind herself, and towards the pool. She looked in the direction, to see her nephew putting her son into a chokehold, attempting to drown him. Wanda shook her head, before looking back at her niece, taking note of her drenched hair, she guessed she must've done a cannonball or something similar.

Wanda grinned.

"Of course, I did! That was amazing, sweetheart!" Lisa's smile widened.

"It was, wasn't it?"

Wanda nodded, rapidly, eagerly.

The little girl bounced on her feet, as she looked at Wanda, with child-like excitement, "Come do it with me!"  She grabbed Wanda's hand and tried to pull her along, but Wanda stopped her. 

The brunette shook her head, and Lisa frowned.

Wanda sends her apologetic look, pressing her lips together, "I can't right now, princess, but I promise I will later."

Disappointment fills her eyes, but the girl nods anyway. Before Wanda could something else, Frank walked over.

His brows furrowed, taking notice of his daughter's puppy dog face, and Wanda's remorseful one. He shook his head, brushing his fingers through Lisa's damped hair, gaining his little girl's attention.

She looked up at him, with curious eyes. He smiled, slightly, "Baby, tell your mom that we're going away from house for a while." She nodded, silently, before blowing her aunt a kiss in farewell, causing Wanda to smile and send one right back.

He grabbed her shoulder, moving her sight. He tilted his head towards the street, "Come on."

The pair walked in silence. Warm wind blowing against their skin, Frank's neighboring cars honked at him in greeting, as they drove by. Wanda folded her arms over her chest, looking down at the broken pavement. The night before ran through her mind, as she tried to figure out the best way to tell him.

A nudge to her shoulder, raises her attention, to Frank, who arches a brow. He nodded for her to start talking.

Wanda sighed.

"Pietro was killed."

Frank hated people who sugarcoated as much as Wanda did, so the brunette continued, "We were tortured and beaten for weeks before they killed him in front of me." The brunette's brows furrowed, "I stayed there for months after..." A grab of her arm brings her to a pause. She looked up to Frank, who shook his head.

"Wait, Wanda, wait."

Wanda swallowed, and Frank frowned. "Who are they? Where... Why?"

Wanda sighed, "They told me that Sokovian soldiers took us for information."

Frank narrowed his eyes.

"You don't believe it?"

She thinks back to what they would scream at her, the way they acted, the beast’s face. Her jaw clenched, "I know, it's not true."

She shook her head, breathing out, trying not to let the anger inside of her, bubble to the surface. Wanda squinted her eyes, as the beaming sun touched her face, Frank moved slightly, blocking the light's path.

"they thought we were spies, they said I betrayed them, they... he said I ruined him."

His brows furrowed, his head tilted, in confusion, "Who's he?"

"Around the base, we called him, T," Wanda said, they also named him shitface for a while, after Wanda made him, ugly, as he said. "He's a tall, muscular guy."

Wanda wetted her lips, burying her hands into the back pockets of her pants, her brows furrowing, "he was the same level as me," Wanda informed, remembering the training with him, meetings, lunches, "but everything about him was a secret, we couldn't even know his name."

Frank nodded, slowly. Wanda ignored the sight of his clenching fist, as she continued to the reason she called him.

"I think he's been watching Tommy," Wanda told him.

"What?" She heard the crack in his voice, as he spoke. Her jaw clenched, as she shook her head, 

"Tommy says he sees him, a-and he described him exactly as he looks."

His eyes widened, and anger filled them.

"What the hell, Wanda? How didn't you—," He started to berate for her ignorance, but Wanda quickly stopped him.

"Tommy said, he doesn't come when I'm home," She interrupted him.

Frank paused, before shaking his head. He takes a breath, as Wanda lowers her head, waiting for the man to speak.  "Wanda, I got this buddy who can get you some protection—," He started.

"I already did that, Agatha got me onto this security team she's been with," Wanda informed him, he nodded his head, with a set jaw.

He turned, brushing his fingers over his low cut, his other hand holding his side. He breathed out, which sounded more like a grunt. Wanda watched as millions of emotions coursed through Frank. Anger, sadness, confusion, and most of all frustration.

"How long have you known?" He asked. 

"I just found out last night."

His jaw clenched, closing his eyes.

"damn, Wands, why didn't you tell me sooner?" He muttered, lowly, Wanda didn't know if he wanted her to hear him, but she did. What would he have done? What would have changed if she told him? She knows she should've told him about Pietro, about everything. But she wasn't ready for the questions, for the looks, for the truth. Wanda sighed, she didn't say anything.

He cursed under his breath, shaking his head. They don't talk for the rest of the walk.

•

Medical Base,

August, 2016.

She lifted her head from against Victor's hand, clenching her jaw, as a cry fought to come out, she felt her brother's hand rubbing against her back.

They were at base. The wounded and surviving soldiers were gathered around, the medics tending to their injuries.

"Why did you ever bring that back?" A familiar voice spoke to her, towards Victor, in disgust. 

Theodore Smith was an angry soldier. They called him Hazel because his eyes loved to go golden when he was mad, which he seemed to be every day. Wanda shook her head, in an attempt to brush him off.

"He just gonna rot, you should've left him there."

"Dude!" Some guy, with long hair, said, slapping the soldier's chest. The man just shook his head, shoving the other one away.

Her lip curled up, in disgust. She lowered her head, muttering under her breath, which Hazel didn't like. 

"What did you say?" He growled out, without even looking at him, she knew he was puffing out his chest like an idiot. 

Wanda barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, clenching her fists at her side. 

"I said, you're fucking idiot." His eyes widened, at her exclamation. Her jaw clenched, "what is wrong with you? You can't seriously—,"

"English, Wanda."

Her eyes snapped up to Pietro's, she didn't realize she had slipped into her mother tongue. The soldier's jaw clenched, he muttered something she didn't quite understand, probably a curse word or an insult.

She took a couple of deep breaths, closing her eyes. She feels Pietro's fingers rubbing her shoulder, trying to calm her nerves. She ignored the sound of the doors opening. Another body walking into the clinic, they were silent at first, just scanning around. Wanda wetted her lips, looking back to Victor's lifeless body.

"I'm sorry." Pietro's voice touched her ears, she reached up to his hand, squeezing his fingers. It’s not your fault, she thought but never said.

A muffled voice went through her ears, causing her head to rise, and so did Pietro's.

It was T, he stood there, looking around them, with confusion on his face. He was spotless, with not an ounce of blood in sight. His face was smooth, scarless. His clothes looked fresh. He was clean, and bathed, while they all were muddy and soaked in blood and sweat.

She shrugged off Pietro's touch. "What did you just say?" 

He turned her, his brows furrowing. "Did you complete the mission?"

She frowned, looking down at Victor, at his pale skin, blood-soaked uniform, and scarred fingers, before looking at T, a polished sculpture. 

Her jaw clenched, as a set of anger rushed through her chest, and she couldn't control herself.

She punched him, right in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. She heard him grunt and ignored it. Wanda shook her head, reaching out, her fingers gripping his shirt, readying for the next attack. Before she could, she was pushed back, hands were being wrapped around her chest, holding her arms down.

She knew it was her brother, so didn't fight as much as she should've. Wanda clenched her fists, jerking forward, "We lost soldiers, we killed for you!" 

The man rolled over, holding his jaw, she watched Agatha place her hand on his shoulder, helping him up. Blood leaking down his face, she nearly smiled, seeing his broken nose, he shook his head, "You failed to reach the goal, the mission was to—,"

She blinked, trying not to let her tears fall, "Fuck the mission!" She spat, her face flustering red, he had the nerves to be disappointed in them. He wasn't there, he didn't fight with them, he didn't kill. He ran and hid, as their hands got dirty, their bodies painted red, that no matter how hard they washed, somehow it's still there, staining their mind and carving their souls into the unthinkable.

"We did what you asked, you coward!"

The next day, she was sent to the general's office. Wanda was left off with a warning from the incident, she smiled when she walked past him, it was wide and prideful, and she was glad to see his crooked face red with anger.

•

It's been hours since Wanda and Frank's discussion. She brushed her fingers through her hair, her other hand gripping the edge of the sink. 

Her jaw clenched, as she looked up in the mirror. She should've told them, she should've listened. She lifted her hand underneath her shirt, rubbing her fingertip against the fainted scar on her skin, remembering the bruises, the pain. 

She sniffles, dropping her hand, trying not to let the tears fall.

"Mom?"

Her head raised to the side at the gentle sound of her son's voice. Billy had changed from her soaked clothes, his hair was still damped, but now he was wearing a brand new shirt and shorts. 

She smiled at him, trying to hide the feeling of distress that coursed through her body. He tilted his head, with a frown. Billy was smart, smarter than anyone she knew.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worried.

She swallowed, nodding her head, rapidly, "I'm fine."

He doesn't believe her. Wanda cleared her throat, turning back to the mirror. She looked at herself, her tired eyes, and reddish skin. She tilted her head, thinking of her body, her scars. 

"Mom..."

She clenched her jaw, shaking her head. "Billy, go outside, I'm alright, I promise."

Her grip on the counter tightened, they told her, they begged, pleaded, with her and she ignored them. Like an idiot, she disregarded what they asked of her, and look at her now?

"Are you sure?"

She was tortured, scarred, and ruined mentally and physically. Wanda nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure, just leave, please."

Why? 

Why was she so stupid? She was blinded. By what, war, pride? 

"Mom, I can—,"

She slammed her hand against the sink, her palm burned from the impact, and her son inhaled, sharply.

"William, I said, get out!"

Billy's eyes widened, and so did hers. His eyes filled with tears, she opened her mouth to apologize, but Billy shook his head, rushing out of the bathroom. 

Fuck.

She cursed, repeatedly, in her mind. She leaned forward, pressing her elbows against the counter, her fingers gripping the hairs on her head. 

Wanda wanted to rush out of the bathroom and apologize but she couldn't. She knows she'd only say all the wrong things. Her emotions were too high for her to talk, and attempt to make sense. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears prickling in the corners. 

Regret and guilt coursed through her bones, and all her tears and feelings were giving her a migraine. Wanda tried to count to ten and attempted the breathing exercises, but it only made things worse. 

She grits her teeth.

"Wanda...?"

Her head snapped to the side. Her eyes landed on her blonde wife, leaning against the doorframe. Wanda shook her head, "I will apologize, Nat, I promise."

Natasha doesn't say anything, which causes her guilt to increase. Wanda took a breath, "Please don't scold me, because I already feel like shit." She only gets a faint chuckle as a response, Wanda's brows furrowed. 

"Come here."

Wanda pulled away from the sink and walked towards her wife. Natasha's arms wrapped around her body, and despite her confusion, Wanda relaxed into them. She lowered her head to her shoulder, moving her arms towards the blonde's back.

Wanda closed her eyes.

"Are you okay?" 

Wanda's hands stiffened.

Frank asked her the same question, she said yes.

When Billy asked, she said yes.

Sam, yes.

Agatha, yes.

Wanda said yes, even though her entire soul was screaming no. 

She's tired of lying.

Wanda closed her eyes, allowing the tears to slip through, as she shook her head. Instantly, Natasha's arms tightened around her.

No, she's not okay.

•

She wiped the rag down her face, scrubbing it against her skin, attempting to get the filth off of her body. She squeezed out the dirt and blood. 

Subconsciously she begins pacing, tapping the sainted towel against her palm, brows furrowing. She tried not to think about it, but the audacity of T irked her. She can't believe it, he had the nerve to speak about a mission? A war? He didn't fight in.

"What is wrong with you?"

A familiar voice asked, her head snapped back to see Agatha, staring at her, with what she tried not to believe was anger.

Wanda shook her head, "What's wrong with me? No, what is wrong with him? The nerves he has, Agatha."

"The day this guy chooses to talk he wants to be a jebeni imbecil," Wanda said, roughly, before pausing and grunting at the sudden pounding feeling in her head. She squeezed her eyes closed, breathing in deeply from her mouth. 

"Wanda..." Agatha spoke.

The raven took a step towards the distraught marine. Agatha placed a hand on Wanda's shoulder, gaining her attention. "He's trying to help us." Wanda couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Trying to help? What are you saying, Agatha? He's a coward, he wasn't there, he didn't see it! He didn't fight like us!" Wanda exclaimed, unable to control the tears forming in her eyes. Wanda croaked out, "H-he didn't see their faces, Agnes... he didn't hear their cries, pleading, I..." He didn't feel them like she did. He didn't feel remorse and sadness. He doesn't understand.

"Wanda, I think you should leave," Agatha interjected. Wanda's eyes widened, what? 

Agatha clenched her jaw, "you know, I love you," She started, before shaking her head, "but all of this, the military, the marines, the squad... you're not made for this," the raven said, not made for this? For something she trained her entire life for? For something she put her sweat and tears to protect?

"You're too emotional," Agatha told her. Blinded by feelings, led by her heart? "You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment, letting you forget what side you're on." Forget? How could she forget? They screamed it in her face, she wears their colors on her skin. 

"Remember they're the enemy, not your own," Agatha stated, before curling her lip up in disgust, "The stupid Sokovians harmed us, not T, he's just trying his best to save us." Something wrong, horrible, settled in her stomach at Agatha's words. The woman spat it out with confidence, and determination, like she truly believed what she was saying. That T, a guy who barely speaks, barely can hold a gun? Can't see blood without crying? Can save them?

She tried to ignore the little voice inside of her mind until she couldn't anymore. "I'm a Sokovian, Agatha."

Wanda could see it in her eyes, Agatha wanted to laugh in her face, probably call Wanda stupid for even thinking that. Instead, she just smiled, and that wasn't any better, it still felt like a stab to Wanda's chest,  "No, you're an American, you're one of us, the good guys."

The good guys, Wanda frowned, did Agatha honestly believe that?

•

Maximoff’s master bedroom,

hours later.

She was naked.

Her bare back faced Natasha, revealing her tan wounds, shivering as her wife's finger trailed down her scars, the house wasn't even near freezing.

The sharp puffs of air are the only sound that comes from her wife, which makes Wanda uncomfortable, not knowing a single thing that is going on in her beautiful mind. She clung to her inner thigh, burying her fingers into her skin. She neglected a stinging pain, as her nails buried further, the more Natasha touched.

She felt the skin of her leg peeling, as Natasha's nail moved down towards her lower back, stopping directly on her fifth wound. The wound was light-ish and dark brown, with a scab, she never tried, and could never reach, to scratch off. She thinks back to when it was fresh and still infected, the oozing yellow pus, the sharp pain when she moved, or even attempted to breathe.

 She remembered it.

Wanda remembers all of them. She memorized the scars like a kid would memorize a song lyric. It's not something she tried to do, she just does.

She bites down her tongue, and soon a taste of metallic sets inside of her mouth, as her pressure expands.

Wanda doesn't look back, closing her eyes, imagining how Natasha's eyes would look down her back, and examine her scars. She thinks of her face, the way her jaw would clench, her eyes hardening, her look of disgust, hatred, horror. Towards them, the military... her?

Wanda lowered her head, breathing slowly in through her nostrils.

"What is this?" Natasha asked.

She trailed over the wound, copying the lines of the scar, so Wanda would know which one it was. Wanda didn't need her to, but she was grateful anyway.

It was her first wound and a wound that was reopened many times.

It was three connected lines, one diagonal, another vertical, and the last one horizontal. It was tilted, laid on her shoulder blade, clear as day, not a single scab, nor a shaky line, not even a little mistake. No, the scar was perfect. Perfect for them, a defect for her. As days (weeks, months?) went on, the wounds were slowly carved into a S.

Wanda lowered her head, "a trademark."

A reminder of her betrayal, of the soldiers she lost, of what she says she is. 

They didn't want her to forget.

She doesn't believe that was ever possible.

"Stop."

Natasha's voice muttered against her shoulder, right over the scar, right over the S, her lips pressing down.

Wanda's fingers snapped away, it stings. 

She realizes why she said, why she stopped her, and it stings. 

Her inner thigh stings.

She lifted her hand, there were pieces of skin in her nails, her blood leaking down the front of her fingers. 

"Wanda..."

A quiver comes, and Wanda clenches her jaw, "They didn't want me to come home until I was fully healed." The sharp inhale from her wife, causes goosebumps to emerge on her skin. 

Wanda shook her head.

"I messed up, Nat," Wanda admitted, her voice cracked, a whimper followed behind, as she leaned forward, pressing the base of her palms against her watery eyes, "I messed up bad and they got me back for it."

A hand caressed down her back, soothing over her wounds, her past. The touch was light as a flower, soft as the petal, sweet as the smell. She was gentle and patient.

Wanda raised her head, turning to face the blonde. Natasha's body was now pressing against her side, the doctor's brows were furrowed, staring into her wife's red misty eyes. 

"What happened?"

Wanda shook her head, sniffling, roughly, "We had a mission in Sokovia," Wanda began, explaining the battle, from Victor's death to Agatha's words. How her emotions were so high, that she felt like she couldn't control herself. 

"Someone said that we were informants and we weren't Nat, I promise, we would never do that." She pleaded with Natasha for the belief she already had. "but god, they didn't believe us and we begged them to stop and..." Wanda interrupts herself, attempting and failing to swallow down a cry. Wanda shook her head, trying to calm herself enough to speak. Wanda closed her eyes, as Natasha rubbed her back, one up, one down.

Wanda breathed out, wetting her lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears.

"Wanda?"

The hand moved up to her shoulder, then to the side of her neck, thumb caressing underneath her ear. Wanda tilted her head, so her cheek was pressed in her wife's palm, Natasha sighed.

"Where's Pietro?"

we, us, they.

Wanda closes her eyes, his demolished body is the first thing that comes to her mind. The broken walls, the rusty pipes, his leaking wound. Then, his blood, spattering, falling like rain, against the floors, the walls, her. His blood painted her face red, soaking her hair, and sticking to her skin, the taste of his blood lay on her lips, on her tongue.

Natasha's thumb, gently, caressed her cheek, wiping the nonexistent blood, her past, her memories. Wanda sobbed, the sound was ugly and loud, and the force caused a pain in her throat. 

"They killed him, baby, I'm so sorry."

And the horrid look on Natasha’s face tore her heart apart once more. 

Her glassy green eyes, so identical to Wanda's. The brunette tilted her body, so could carefully wrap her arms around her wife, pulling her closer. Natasha's body shook, her arm moved over Wanda's shoulder, her head pressed against the marine's neck.

The sound of her cries burns Wanda, who closes her eyes, allowing her tears to fall down her cheeks.

The married couple sobbed, holding each other tightly enough to break, but also, hopefully, enough to pull one another back together again.