Regret.
"Pietro's gone," Natasha repeated, in agony.
Wanda's heart breaks at the look on her face, the pain, the struggles of believing, her watery red eyes, puffy crimson cheeks, and her voice which hasn't lost the raspiness nor the shake.
Natasha whimpered and cried.
He was Natasha's brother as much as Wanda's, and it was the same way with Frank. They all grew together, loved, and protected. So the same burning pain in Wanda's heart that makes her want to rip it is the exact one that lies in Natasha's.
"I'm so sorry," like those words would make anything better, like it helps. Natasha shook her head, wiping her fingers down her face, with a sniffle, "Stop, please don't say that."
Wanda clenched her jaw, "but I am Nat, I'm so sorry, I..." Wanda trailed off, she should've listened. Wanda swallowed, "I'm sorry for all of this, I wish none of this ever happened, and I just listened."
A soft gasp left Natasha, causing Wanda to frown, and her wife's eyes to fill with something she doesn't understand, but it makes Natasha cry harder.
Wanda slowly approached her, her fingers reaching out to touch Natasha's face, gently, caressing against her skin, before she leaned forward, pressing their lips together, letting both of their emotions flow through the kiss, their sadness, pain, and hopefulness. Wanda lowered her head, releasing their lips to speak, "I'm so sorry, and I wish I did better." She shook her head, "I wish all of this pain wasn't here, I wish he was here, I wish..."
Suddenly, a tight hold against her shirt, pulls her closer, causing her lips to press against her wife's once again, interrupting Wanda, by pulling her into a bruising kiss. Wanda's brows rose, as Natasha parted her lips, Wanda allowed the blonde's tongue to slip into her mouth, and for a moment let the hand slide underneath her shirt, before stopping them.
Wanda separated their lips, breathlessly, "N-Nat, wait."
Natasha didn't fight the separation, silently, the blonde pulled away, shaking her head, "I wish, we... you didn't feel like this," Natasha told her, her voice was so low, if it wasn't for their closeness Wanda wouldn't have heard her, "sometimes I wish everything was so different."
Wanda sighed, lowering her head to the croak of the blonde's neck, Natasha's fingers moved up to her hair, her mouth inches from her ear, "but that isn't going to happen, Wanda, because that's all it is... a wish."
"It becomes something else when you try to make it real."
•
Natasha and Pietro.
Wanda and Pietro.
Frank and Pietro.
Pietro was never a singular type of person, because he was for everyone.
He was a friend and showed love, respect, and kindness to each person who walked by. He was so annoying at times but amazing overall.
He had a smile that even on someone's worst day would leave them no choice but to smile back.
His aura was like cotton candy, sweet and fluffy, with a warmth like the gentle heat after a summer rain.
He was the definition of happiness, but he wasn’t happy.
He died without getting a single thing he wanted, without his wife, without his daughter, without his damn dog. He died, scared and lonely, even though she was in front of him, he could hear her voice, and see her tears, he was still alone.
"Did he tell you that?"
Wanda's jaw tightened, as she raised her gaze from fidgeting fingers, "he didn't have to."
"Why's that?"
Wanda sighed, "I know, he resents me for not leaving, I… I took him from his happiness! I was selfish, and he wanted a family and I stole that from him," Wanda ranted.
The therapist frowned, "He has a family."
Wanda shook her head, "It's not the same—."
"How is it not?" The graying woman interrupted Wanda. "Sam is your family, isn't he? Frank, Maria, and their children? They're your family like Natasha and your children are, right?" The therapist questioned, then she paused, and Wanda nodded, silently, even though she wasn't truly asking. "So how isn't it the same for him?"
Wanda swallowed, "It is the same, he just... he wanted more."
The woman hummed, silence filled the room briefly before the therapist spoke, "I think he was happy."
Wanda hardened, "You don’t know him."
The therapist didn't argue, she nodded and simply agreed. "I don't."
Wanda narrowed her eyes, as the therapist sighed, giving Wanda her full attention, "But from your stories, he seemed like he can't hold an ounce of hate in his body."
Wanda's muscles eased, as she lowered her head, her brows creasing, "He never understood hate, he never liked getting angry," Wanda paused, the corner of her lip rising. "He thought it was a stupid emotion, and something he just couldn't feel." He had so much to be angry about but wasn’t. Wanda guessed she had taken that weight from him.
Wanda dragged her thumb againstthe side of her neck, she didn't turn her finger, so her nails were scratching or digging into her skin, no, she simply caressed.
"If you know this, why do you think he hates you?"
Wanda pulled her lips downward, "Because he should."
"Why?"
Wanda swallowed, lowering her head, "I don't know..." The therapist tilted her head like she was hearing a deeper meaning behind the statement, but she didn't say anything, she just nodded.
And that was that.
•
Wanda bent down, opening the box of Pietro's stuff. She shuffled through the papers and objects, only looking for two specific things. She picked up a midsize canvas, pushing it to the side to get a small green container. She flipped up the lock and opened it. Wanda smiled, slightly, she found it.
She closed the container, settling it into her lap. She started to put everything back into the box, and when she was almost done, she started to rise from the floor, with the small box and the last object in her hands.
She couldn't help but look at the object, it was the canvas, Wanda frowned, slightly, it was a drawn portrait of the entire family.
The setting was a backyard, Frank's old house to be specific, Pietro's favorite. He always loved the openness, the small barn, the old big tree with a swinging rope, and the garden. It wasn't anywhere near pretty or perfect but it was amazing to him. In the painting, Pietro stood, peacefully, in the middle, while there was pure chaos in the background. It was in the winter, snow rested on his shoulders and in his hair, and water patches were on his coat, the family was split into groups, they were small ice forts, balls of snow flying around.
And like always he was grinning, they all were.
Wanda smiled, softly, her thumb carefully caressing the canvas.
"Are you okay?"
Wanda's head snapped up at the sound of her wife's voice. Wanda tried not to let the shock show on her face, as she frowned, "I'm..." Wanda trailed off, unable to lie. The brunette shook her head, swallowing, "Can you tell the boys to come here?"
Natasha frowned, opening her mouth, slightly, before pausing, and shaking her head, deciding against whatever she was going to say. Instead, the blonde nodded her head and exited the attic.
Wanda settled the painting down into the box, and the faint sound of Natasha’s voice touched her ears, as she called out for their children.
She was pushing the box back into the counter of the area, as the sound of feet stomping against the steps of the wooden ladders caused her head to rise towards the entrance. Her boys walked into the attic, instantly their eyes started to search around with curiosity, Wanda couldn't but notice that Natasha didn’t follow them up, as she crouched down to the ground.
"My boys," Wanda said, only to gain their attention, the twins turned to her. Wanda waved them, and the children frowned, simultaneously, as they walked towards their mother. Wanda sighed, as they settled down in front of her. She wetted her lips, before opening the container and revealing two silver dog tags. "Your uncle P wanted you to have this," She informed them, hesitantly.
Tommy's eyes lit up, and immediately he reached into the box, grabbing the necklaces, he handed Billy his, before smiling, examining his own, "it looks so cool," Tommy exclaimed.
Wanda swallowed and looked towards Billy, whose brows furrowed, as he stared down at his necklace, an aching pain settled in her stomach because she knew he knew.
Billy's bottom lip wobbled, as he croaked out, "Mom..."
Immediately, Wanda wrapped her arms around him, pulling him towards her body, "I'm so sorry, Billy," Wanda whispered into his hair, while caressing his back, Billy began sobbing against her neck, gripping tightly onto her shirt.
"What's wrong?" Tommy sounded confused, and neither of them responded.
Tommy's eyes welled, as he walked towards them, he rested his cheek against Wanda's shoulder, in an attempt to gain her attention, and it worked. She raised her head from Billy, to look at her eldest son. Tommy's brows furrowed, "Mom, why is Billy crying?"
Wanda sniffled and then placed her fingers into his head, gently, "Your uncle loved you both so much and..." Wanda trailed off, she didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain without saying too much. They were far too young to know about his torture and his pain. Wanda cleared her throat, "he... Uncle P has passed away, he's in a better place now, okay?" Wanda attempted, Tommy's brows creased.
"He's with grandma and grandpa?" Tommy asked, softly, Wanda smiled, weakly, nodding, "So he's finally meeting Selena?" Tommy continued questioning, in a child-like manner, eyes shining, Pietro was in love with her. He wouldn't dare turn off a single song of hers, she was the root of his obsession with Latin music.
Wanda laughed, wetly, nodding her head, as her arms tightened around her sons, "Yeah, he's probably dancing with her right now."
•
Military Barracks,
September 12, 2016.
"You think you can make them stop aging just for me?" Wanda asked, her eyes shining with affection as the sound of Natasha's laughter touched her ears. She couldn't believe her boys were turning 8 in two days.
"I'll try my best, no promises, though," Natasha said, causing Wanda to smile, softly, both in happiness and sadness, their life was flashing before her eyes, yesterday it felt like they were still five years old having mud fights, but they're seven (8 and a half) years old, smart and taller, they're slightly above Natasha's hip now.
Wanda sighed, as Natasha spoke, "They miss you."
Wanda chuckled, bitterly, shaking her head, "They don't even remember me," She told her wife, she hasn't had her boys in two years. The Sokovia war took up a major time in her life, she lost days where she could've been with her family, holding her wife, playing ball with her children, and just enjoying her life, but she used it (wasted it) on war.
"They do," Natasha said, steadily, with the type of firmness that she can't hesitate to believe, "I made sure they do."
Then a pound of adornment falls on her heart, drowning her with affection, it makes her smile, and she feels so many emotions that she doesn't understand. But it's good, always good, because it's always love. "Thank you," Wanda's voice was soft as ever, she closed her eyes briefly, Natasha was quiet for a moment, only sounds were her breathing. Wanda listened closely from the long and deep ones that made her confused to the short-but-not-too-short and calm ones that soothed her.
"For what?" is what she chose to say, confusion clearly in her voice.
Wanda laughed like she couldn't believe she was asking that. For what? For so many things. For years on end, she spent with her, for their children, for their smiles and laughter, and her own. For their love, and trust, there’s so much, too much, but she doesn't care because it's all from them and for them, "for a lot, Natasha, you probably don't even understand how grateful I am of you," Wanda admitted, smiling, from ear to ear.
"Wanda..."
"Maximoff!" A voice outside of the call shouted for her, she turned her head, to see a male, waving a white envelope, "You got mail."
He throws it towards her, and she catches it in her off-hand. "What is it?" Natasha asked, causing her to flip the envelope over to see Frank Castle, written in cursive. "It's a letter from your brother."
She scratched her nail against the fold, attempting to open the letter with one hand. With difficulty she succeeded, as soon as she pulled the folded letter out of its holder, she slid the envelope across the desk.
Wanda squinted her eyes, sliding the paper open with her thumb. It was half a page, neatly written in a black pen, there was no dear, Wanda's, or a single opening, like always he got straight to the point. Wanda leaned back, ready to read the letter as the sound of her wife's breathing hit her left ear.
The last time I saw you, you looked shaken. Traumatized by the world before you, the wars you fought in. You're a soldier by heart, by blood, but you aren't a monster, you're not like me. You're not able to kill and enjoy it, you take it to heart.
And that's not a bad thing, it's good, don't let anyone make you think otherwise.
And I know what you think, you're not weak, just because you're sensitive to things. You're strong, Wanda, and I know you'll do the unthinkable for our family.
Sometimes, I wonder if you ever think about yourself, and if you don't, I won't judge you. All I think about is our family, I awake for them, I fought for them, and so do you.
But you can't always protect them from a distance, I've learned that they need you by their side.
Tommy puts his attention on the games. The boy is a star, a champion on the court. He pushes himself hard though, all for you. He wants you to be proud of him, he wants you at his games, to cheer him on. He wants to hear you roar like you used to do at Tasha's and P's soccer games.
Billy is more quiet when you're gone. He's a good kid, smart as hell, but lonely. I heard he was getting picked on. Don't worry, Tommy handles them, but whatever they say to him really affects him, Wands. He misses you like hell.
And Natasha, my baby sister, isn't the same without you. The kids are the only ones holding her up, she's worried, Wands. There's always sadness and fear in her eyes, it pains me. Was Maria like that when I was away? I hope not, I don't want to imagine that look on her face, I hate seeing it on my sister's even more.
The wars have calmed, I heard you defeated Sokovia, and I read the accords, and it all sounded good. Too good, and I fear the goodness won't last long.
I know the military is a part of you, it's a part of me too. Just don't go too far, and become like him, okay? Come back, before it's too late
Wanda's finger dragged down on the letter, her brows furrowing. Him? Ivan. He didn't want her to become like him, violent, and addicted to alcohol because she couldn't get over the pain of war. To the point she couldn't tell what was home or not.
Wanda's jaw clenched at the part about her wife and children. Tommy putting pressure on himself, Billy getting bullied, and Natasha's fear. Her being away brings more pain than anything.
"Wanda?" Her wife's gentle voice touched her ear, it was hesitant, unsure, as if she was scared by the hitch of Wanda's breath or her deadly silence.
Wanda wetted her lips, she shouldn't be. She shouldn't be scared or nervous about Wanda, not like this. The brunette shook her head, "I'm coming home, Nat." The distance isn't working for either of them.
It only hurts them, more and more the longer they're away. Frank is right, the war is won, and over with, so why is she still here? What is she fighting for anymore?
"What?" Natasha asked, in disbelief.
Wanda nodded, unwaveringly, completely sure of her decision, "I'm going to request discharge, okay?" The brunette told her firmly, "I'm... we're coming home."
The other line was silent, not a single sound was coming, not even her breathing, Wanda swallowed nervously, "Nat?"
"Okay..." is the only response she gets.
Wanda's brows furrowed, "Okay?" She repeated, wetting her lips, as she raised her head.
"Yeah, okay."
•
Sokovia, EU,
February 16th, 1991.
His smile was brighter than the sun, it was soft, gentle, and filled with so much love.
She didn't know who it was pointed at, his eyes were glued forward, but towards, who? Her mom, brother, her? She doesn't know, she doesn't think it matters, because for each person he would have the same glistening look in his eyes.
His smile was genuine, and his fingers ruffled through Pietro's hair, before falling to his chest, she could see the happiness in Pietro's eyes, as he leaned back into their father.
"Don't want to ruin the surprise!"
Her vision went dark, she could feel the warmth of her mother's palm, hovering over her eyes. Wanda giggles, her fingers reaching up to wrap around her mom's forearm.
She couldn't see, but she could hear Pietro's laughter, the sound of something rumbling around, and her father telling her twin to keep his eyes closed in hush whispers.
She felt a shoulder bumping into hers, as her vision slowly came to view, "keep them close!" She quickly squeezed them back shut, and her mother's hand fell to her shoulder, her lips touching the side of her head, kissing it tenderly. She knew Pietro was beside her, his fingers sliding into her hand, squeezing it tightly in excitement.
He was so excited, so happy.
"Open them!" Immediately their eyes shut open, her eyes turned to the white box in her father's hand, his wide smile.
"No way!" Pietro exclaimed, Wanda didn't know what it was, but Pietro seemed to. His hand slid out of hers, and he began to walk towards their dad. But before he could rush to the present, shuddering echoed through the house, the floor became unstable, and it nearly knocked Pietro off his feet. Wanda raised her head, as objects fell off the shelves, glasses shattered across the floor, the flickering lights, Wanda's brows furrowed because suddenly it stopped.
Maybe it was one of those earthquakes, the one she would practice for in class, where she had to hide underneath a desk, protecting her head, something she never thought she would have to go through.
She had hoped it was that, but she wasn't even close to being right.
Her father's fingers snapped to grip the edge of the table, her mother's hands tightened on their shoulders, and her dad's eyes widened, she knew he wasn't looking at her, as his eyes shot upwards, The next thing she knew her father jerked forward, wrapping his arms around the three of them, pushing them to floor, as the house rocked again, but this was much worse.
The windows scattered, as the roof collapsed above them, it wasn't an earthquake. An earthquake wouldn't explode, an earthquake wouldn't start a fire that stings her skin. The scent of burning wood coursed through her nostrils, the dust blurred her sight.
Pietro's screams of joy become ones of horror, she doesn't know what happened, how everything changed so quickly.
She could feel Pietro's fear and confusion vibrating off of him.
She could feel her mother's worry and sadness, her father's anger.
And what Wanda felt herself was...
Absolutely nothing. She doesn't remember if she was sad or scared, maybe she was as confused as Pietro was, her eyes frantically looking for something, anyone.
Maybe, she was as worried as her mother, wondering if they were going to be okay, if they were going to make it out.
Maybe her father's anger burned through her veins, and her mind was filled with rage.
She doesn't know.
Maybe, she felt a lot or one single emotion, or she might've felt nothing at all.
Wanda doesn't know, but she wishes she did.
•
She couldn't wait to tell Pietro.
Tell him to go get the happiness, the wife, children, and the freaking dog, that he's been waiting for. The happy ending that Wanda took away from him too.
She doesn't let the guilt settle in her stomach for that, because the excitement washed it out of existence, at least for the moment. It allows her to be happy, to be ready, and completely sure of herself.
She wanted this, and she was going to get it, no matter what.
"What got you smiling?"
A familiar voice filled her ears, putting a slight damper on her mood. Her head snapped to the side, turning to the brown-eyed man, who grinned, showing too many teeth, for her to be comfortable, she didn't believe she had ever seen him smile, it was a creepy sight.
Wanda narrowed her eyes, as he waved his hand, "Hey, witchy."
Sam gave her the nickname, Pietro and Vision copied, Hazel stole. Wanda rolled her eyes, "what do you want, Smith?"
He gasped, the sound itself was irritating, how could he make something as simple as breathing piss her off? "What? No Hazel?" he asked, arching a brow, his eyes glowing a bright red, not golden, maybe she called him satan for his eyes, it fits his personality as well.
Wanda shrugged him off, shaking her head, as he tilted his, with an annoying pout, "What? Are you still mad at me?"
No, of course, she's not.
It's not like he disrespected her dead best friend/brother and told her to leave his corpse in the wild, because he didn't want to see it and acted like he was disgusted by her loss.
Wanda's jaw clenched, as her steps got quicker, hoping he would just leave her side, sadly, he didn't. Instead, he grabbed her arm, forcefully bringing her to a pause, and it took every part of her for her not to spin around, and snap at him. She decides to just glare at him until he lets go.
It didn't take long until he did, with a swallow. He sighed, "Look, I'm sorry, okay? My emotions were high," He apologized, poorly, "you said some stupid shit, and you did some stupid shit too, so just forgive me."
The blame game, deflection, like bringing up her faults would change her mind on him. Wanda shook her head, balling her fist, as she went through the curtains, exiting the tent.
"Wanda," He growled out, and she ignored him.
The humid air touched skin, as her steps quickened. He doesn't stop following, doesn't matter how far she goes, or how many times she tells him to leave her alone.
Even when she went through the forest, she could still hear his feet creaking against the wet leaves, her jaw clenched, why wouldn't he just let her be? Wanda spins around, "Just leave—," The words die on her tongue, no one was there.
Her brows furrowed because she still hears the creaking. Her head snapped to the side, it was too dark to see, the barks of the trees and the bushes were the only thing in her sight, but she still could hear.
He wasn’t being cautious. It's like he wanted her to hear him, he wanted her to feel worried, and scared.
She looked around, towards every rattle, every step. Wanda narrowed her eyes, her eyes swearing she saw a strange human-like shadow between the trees, but she was mistaken, a hard force pushed against her back, and her body twisted, as she fell to the ground.
It was Smith, with wild hair and wider eyes, his fingers were reaching out to attack, but Wanda didn't allow him to.
Wanda kicked out her leg, hopefully, she aimed correctly and hit his shin, Smith's body fell back anyway, giving Wanda enough time to push her hand against the muddy ground to stand up, and run.
She runs as much as her life depended on it.
She ignored the burning in her throat, the sharp pain on her skin. She runs as fast as her legs and lungs allow her to, and as quickly as the adrenaline rushes through her veins. She rushed past multiple trees, as the sky darkened above, ignoring the birds jumping away or squirrels that crawled on the trees with each of her steps.
She ran until she couldn't anymore, until her body stopped on her, she was leaning forward, her throat burned, as she held her mouth agape, and threw up. Her eyes filled with tears as blood slipped down from her lips, and the aching pain in her muscles hit her hard.
Wanda's brows furrowed, as she moved her hand towards her back, touching the moist fabric of her shirt, slowly, moving it to the front, revealing them to herself. Her fingers were stained red, she must've fallen on a rock or... her head snapped back, and the sound of leaves creaking caught her.
Someone was here, and she knew it wasn't Smith.
Smith was miles away, even when she was in pain, she knew she could outrun him. No, this was someone else, someone faster and smarter than him.
She tried to start running again, to ignore the pain in her back, and the achiness in her thighs, but the person bolted towards her and pushed her to the ground. The person grabbed her side, digging their nails into her wound, she bit her tongue, in an attempt to not let out a scream of pain. They flipped over her body, not even allowing her to move an inch, before their fingers snapped around her throat, and a hand over her mouth.
she tried to fight, pushing them off, or kicking them, but she couldn't, whatever they were putting on her lips made her bones feel weak, and her eyes drowsy. She reached her fingers gripping around the wrist that holds her neck, the pressure did nothing, only tightening their hold.
Her eyes welled, the lack of oxygen forced her mouth open, allowing them to push whatever poison it was further down her throat.
Her clogged ears, filled with ringing sounds, as she, slowly, tried to blink, black specs circled her vision. She tried to jerk out of their grip, to fight, but damn it, she was weak. She closed her eyes, and kept on trying to fight for her family, for those green-eyed boys, with auburn hair, and wide smiles, the ones that were turning eight.
She tried so hard to fight, but she couldn't.
Her children were the last thing she saw before her vision went dark.
•
Maximoff’s House:
Tommy’s Bedroom.
Wanda bit her tongue, as she settled on the bed. She listens to the soft breathing, as her mind wanders off from Pietro to the military to everything, her mistakes, the deaths. Wanda runs her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes, briefly.
"Mom..." Billy croaked out, peeling his head from underneath Tommy's blanket, and her eldest boy was knocked out cold. The crying had left them tired, and although she could see the sleepiness in Billy's eyes, he was wide awake.
"Yes, Billy?" Wanda asked, softly.
His brows creased, his head tilted slightly, "Are you okay?"
Wanda smiled, gently, "Of course, I am, my boy, I'm made of steel," Wanda joked, poking his side, he twisted away from her touch but doesn't smile. Billy lowered his head, his frown deepening, "Even steel can be broken."
Wanda nodded, "True..."
There was so much worry and confusion on her child's face, that it hurt her deeply. Wanda smiled, slightly, "But this steel is being held together by magic," Wanda told him, his brows furrowed, disbelief flickered in his eyes.
"your steel and a magician?" He asked, curiously, Wanda chuckled, shaking her head.
"No, a witch," Wanda said, before bopping his nose, causing the child to scrunch it. "And it makes you one too."
His eyes widened, and only a parent would understand the enjoyment of seeing this innocent and trusting glisten in their children's eyes. "So together with our magic, we make my steel stronger and better than before."
He gasped, softly, "I make you stronger?" Billy asked.
Wanda leaned forward, brushing her hand against his head, before kissing the top of it, and saying, softly, "Yes, you make me stronger, my beautiful boy."
All of them do.
•
Wanda, slowly, blinked, an aching pain coursed through her head.
She grunted, opening her eyes, and instantly she felt a sharp pain in her ribs and wrists. She looked down to the ground, her legs were hanging above the floor, her feet were red and bruised, dirt covering her skin.
She raised her head towards the roof, her hands were tied onto a metal rob, staining her arms. There was so much pain in her body, which brought tears to her eyes.
"Hey, Wanda."
Her head snapped to the side at the voice towards a pale white wall, her eyes connecting to the rusty bars, and dark corners, as a cold breeze touched her skin, making her shiver, she clenched her teeth.
"Do you feel like playing a game?"
She knew that voice, but also it sounded so unfamiliar. It was deep like his, although the calculating tone wasn't. The roughness was his, while the meticulousness and slowness weren't. It doesn't matter how unfamiliar and recognizable it was, it's still him.
Her nose flared, as a gray-haired male, with a muscle body, a crooked nose, and blue eyes.
The silent ones were always the craziest.