Chapter 1
Red waves of energy slammed aside the doors of whatever conference room Friday directed the Scarlet Witch to, loudly interrupting Tony’s speech about the new jetpacks he wanted everyone to demo that day. The team jumped in their seats, and turned to face the intruder.
“Welcome back, Miss Maximoff. Nice of you to join us right on time today. We’ve got a cake for you in the back room,” Tony droned sarcastically from his place next to Steve at the front of the room. Wanda didn’t register his words, just as Tony didn’t register her bloodshot eyes and the dried tears on her face.
A certain Russian, however, noticed right away. Wanda’s glassy green eyes frantically scanned the room for Natasha, landing on her when the agent stood up, swiftly moving to intercept her distraught teammate. Glaring daggers at Tony, Nat anchored Wanda by the waist and led her out of the conference room.
“Was it something I said?” Tony deadpanned as the doors clicked shut.
Once in the hall, Wanda grabbed Nataha’s hand and tugged the black clad woman further and further from the conference room, neither saying a word until they reached the commons where nobody was to be seen. Wanda turned on her heels to face the other redhead.
“Wanda what-” the Black Widow started.
“Nat,” Wanda interrupted, fresh tears in her eyes. “I saw her today.”
- earlier that morning -
Wanda watched out the window as the last blocks of towers on the outskirts of New York City danced past her. She hummed distantly to herself, recalling a time when there was no way she would have been able to be in a place this loud, this chaotic, without driving herself to the brink of overstimulation from her powers.
“Forty minutes out from the compound, Miss Maximoff,” Tony’s driver announced from the front seat, lifting her from her thoughts. She wondered where Happy was, but didn’t want to ask and hurt this guy’s feelings. Hogan probably had more pressing matters to attend to than to play Uber driver for the day.
“Of course, thank you..” Wanda closed her eyes in an attempt to remember his name, cursing herself for being so distracted today. Pausing her sentence for what would be an indiscernible amount of time for the man, her index finger glowed red, twitching ever so briefly as she paged through his memories, searching for his introduction to her earlier that morning. “..Walt.” She looked up into the driver's mirror to meet his gaze, landing on the name with a soft smile that actually reached her eyes as Walt nodded, kindly grinning back at her.
Wanda quietly sighed and sunk back into her seat, turning her attention back to her makeshift show out the window before letting her eyes fall shut. These last forty minutes of peace were going to fly faster than the quinjet took off the fateful time that Steve allowed Peter to copilot. (The only time Steve allowed Peter to copilot.)
She suddenly dreaded the resurgence of meetings, the trainings, the briefings, and especially the missions. Sure, she missed her team, and sure, she knew she wouldn’t be back in the throes of it all straightaway, but even so. Her personal vacation at a cabin in the woods (complete with daily telehealth therapy sessions, lots of reading, working out, calls and texts from Nat and Bucky, and weekly supply drops from Tony) had ended far too quickly for her liking. This was something she hadn’t expected, considering how violently opposed she had been to the idea of being away from her family at the compound. Although, she will admit she hadn’t given them much of a choice at the time.
Following everyone’s return from the snap, things had been difficult for everyone. But especially for Wanda. The whole team became increasingly worried as she puttered around the compound, eyes empty, rarely speaking, missing meals and skipping training after training. She quit on three different therapists, explaining to Steve each time that “there was no way for them to understand.” Worse yet, she refused to speak to any of her teammates about what they all assumed was plaguing her– her guilt about having killed Vision, and being forced back into a life without him.
Eventually one night, a very concerned Natasha adeptly used her “interrogation” training to slip through Wanda’s failing defenses. ...She wasn’t proud of getting the poor witch drunk enough to discuss everything, but hey, it definitely wasn’t the worst crime she’s committed.
With every new detail Wanda provided about her time from having to take on Thanos through being unsnapped, the assassin was rendered completely floored. Wanda’s experience ran so much deeper than any of the heroes could have fathomed. The two redheads stayed awake through the early morning, long after Wanda had sobered up as she continued to tell Nat everything .
The conversation would stay between the two women, Nat swore on her life, rocking the teary eyed woman in her arms as the sun came up.
But this came with the agreement that Wanda had to start letting the others back in as well. “ It’s what they would have wanted.”
After a vague briefing held by Natasha while Wanda slept off her emotional hangover that afternoon, the team began individual attempts to get Wanda out of the darkness she found herself trapped in. Peter was able to get her to come to movie nights, Nat and Clint would train with her at odd hours, Steve made it his job to ensure she was eating properly, and Bucky even took up trying to learn Sokovian so that he would have an excuse to come sit in her room for a little while every day. Bruce and Tony seemed to be avoiding her, but Wanda chalked it up to the two analytics not knowing what to say. And who could blame them?
Things seemed to be going well for a few weeks, until one day, Tony stormed into the kitchen muttering to himself. Not noticing Wanda sitting quietly at the table with a book that Pepper lent to her and the remnants of a cup of tea, Tony swore and kicked a cabinet door. Wanda looked up from her book, feeling waves of Tony’s frustration. Setting down the novel to finish off the now chilled tea, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she peered over her mug at her obliviously pacing teammate.
She lowered the tea from her lips, parting them to bring his attention to her presence, to ask if he was alright. But once her full concentration was on him, she couldn't help but overhear a string of Tony’s loud, unfiltered thoughts. Especially since these thoughts were about a certain synthezoid that Wanda’s mind had trained itself to listen for.
The ceramic mug met the tile with a sharp crash, and a heart wrenching gasp. Tony flew around to meet her harrowed eyes. His face fell as fast as the mug, and hers turned the ghostly white of the shards on the ground.
“Oh fuck,” he had cursed, not quite under his breath.
“He’s here?” She whispered shallowly.
“You. Were not supposed to hear that. How did you hear that you are all the way over there you’re not even supposed to be near me you weren’t. Supposed to hear that.” Tony deadpanned in one breath.
Wanda stepped over the shattered mug, stalking towards Tony. “Where. Where is he. If you don’t tell me, I’ll look for myself,” she threatened, voice turning more tense as her eyes flashed red.
Tony sighed, running his hands over his face and up through his hair, knowing that neither of them had been prepared for this today. “Alright. Let’s go.”
Seconds after seeing Vison’s corpse for herself, Wanda fell to her knees in a breakdown that shattered every lightbulb on three adjacent floors. (As well as Tony’s eardrums.)
From that point on, even when nobody was working on his body, Wanda refused to leave Vision’s viewing room. Her teammates took turns bringing meals that she would only eat half of and holding conversations that she was only half there for. Nat came in the most often, forcing the witch to take care of herself with lazy threats.
“If you don’t go take a shower and come outside for a run with me, I swear to god I’ll have him transferred to a different facility. One that none of us know about so you will never be able to find it,” Nat prodded. She could have sworn that Wanda smiled at that one.
“And I would transfer you to your own personal hell on earth,” Wanda shot back, pushing a cloud of harmless red mist into Natasha’s face. “We wouldn’t even need to board a plane to get there.”
Nat laughed, pulling Wanda up out of her chair. “That’s cute. It’s time for some sunshine, sunshine. He’ll be here when we get back.”
As the weeks wore on, it became more and more apparent that Wanda’s behavior wasn’t sustainable. While Steve and Tony would have been able to overrule regardless of her wishes, it had ultimately been Natasha who was able to finally get Wanda to step down for a break.
“You need. Some time. Away from this,” Nat had gently admonished. Taking Wanda's face in her hands, she wiped away the silent tears falling from pale green eyes. “Being here, waiting like this, it’s– it’s destroying you from the inside out, and we both know it.”
“I can’t leave him. Not after she– not now,” Wanda whispered, desperately searching her teammate’s face for any sign of reprieve. Of course, there was none.
“You aren’t leaving him, dorogoy. He isn’t here,” Nat tucked a strand of hair behind the witch’s ear. “They have no timeline, Wanda. It’s been almost a whole year since they began trying to bring him back, and Tony still isn’t sure if they’ll be able to..” she trailed off. “You can’t keep doing this, staying here, waiting for something that may never happen. You have to start moving on again. You were doing so well before all of this. He would have hated knowing he caused you to end up this way. You need a fresh slate.”
“I lost them both, Nat,” Wanda’s hands flew to her mouth as she shook with a fresh round of sobs, the reality of her situation finally becoming too much to bear. Slamming her eyes shut, she felt herself become wrapped into a tight embrace. Over the Black Widow’s shoulder, Wanda repeated breathily. “I lost them both.”
As their SUV sped through the city streets, Wanda shuddered at the memories. Telling Nat about what had happened during the snap. Seeing Vision. Her concedence to taking a break. Leaving Vision. Balling her shaking hands into fists, she found herself wishing that she had stopped at the airport bar before leaving with Walt. Her nerves were already getting the best of her, and she knew it was going to be a long first day back. She wondered if Nat still had that stash of Russian vodka hidden in the lounge, or if she would have to rely on Clint’s questionable taste in cheap whiskey upon her return. While pondering the efficacy of stooping even lower to seek out Banner for the likes of his Malibu rum , Wanda was suddenly blindsided by a wave of light purple, almost white energy ripping through her thoughts, causing her to startle up against her seatbelt with a gasp.
The psychic burst was shortly followed by distant ringing of familiar, musical laughter that swam through her head, causing shivers to slink from the nape of her neck all the way down her spine. Wanda’s eyes slammed shut, and she saw fading lilac tendrils ghosting like smoke through her mind.
“Stop the car,” Wanda demanded lowly, blindly releasing herself from the seatbelt in one smooth motion. Her eyes fluttered underneath her eyelids, trying to locate the source of her anomaly. It had to have come from nearby.
“I– I can’t, we’re in the middle of the–”
“Stop. The car,” Wanda seethed as her jaw set firmly. Her once calm, green eyes flashed open to glow an unfaltering storm of red.
“Miss–” Walt tried to reason, but it was too late. Wanda raised her hands, twisting her mist-shrouded fingers before whipping them downwards with a snarl, causing the SUV to squeal to a grinding halt, wheels locked from spinning instantaneously. Wanda immediately turned in her seat, shattering the rear window of the Stark vehicle as a red gust engulfed the two cars behind her, stopping them in their tracks as not to create a pile-up. Whipping back to ensure that Walt, while shaken, was otherwise unharmed, Wanda sprung the door without touching it, and leapt out of the stalled car.
“Miss Maximoff!” Walt’s cries never reached their target ears as the Scarlet Witch hurtled down the sidewalk, dodging figures, trying with increasing desperation to tune back into the delicate laughter and the burst of energy that she could feel fading from her conscience.
“ No no no no no,” she whispered to herself, grinding her teeth. She stopped on a dime at a street corner, her deep, searching eyes wildly flitting around, focusing on everything yet nothing at all. “Where are you?”
The tendrils of energy slipped slowly out of her mental grasp, and Wanda’s hands flew to her temples in despair, sharply sucking in a breath through her clenched jaw. ‘ I can’t. Do this again,’ she punctuated in her mind. Channeling all her focus, she allowed her mind to go blank, tuning out the city around her as she scoured with anguish for the lavender wisps. ‘ Please. Please.’ Her quick feet, of their own accord, brought her to a quieter street where she leaned up against a brick wall, breathing unevenly. Still glowing eyes fell closed as Wanda covered her face with her hands, failing to come to terms that the last of the threads had floated out of her grasp. Lost, once again, to the vastness of wherever they had come from. Her hands shook and her lungs burned as she struggled to breathe through her panic. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there gasping, hoping for any sign of–
“Hey, um, are you alright?” All at once, a soft, familiar voice filtered through her state of emergency, embracing each atom of Wanda’s being. … It couldn’t be. She’s still just hearing things. Remembering things. Wishing for things.
A gentle touch on her shoulder convinced her otherwise.
Piercing red irises flashed upwards, locking onto a pair of worried orbs only inches away.
It was you.
Distraught scarlet immediately faded to an enchanted sage green, but not fast enough to stop you from pulling away with a startled gasp.
“(Y/N),” Wanda exhaled. In the same beat, you stuttered, “Your eyes, they-”
“Shhh, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Wanda practically whispered, her awestruck eyes ghosting all over you, drinking you in, still trying to discern if this moment had any basis in reality.
She registered your hesitancy, and had to stop her wandering hand in midair as it was instinctively making its way towards you. Moving to tuck the hair behind your ear. To smooth out the concerned expression etched across your face.
The light auburn haired woman watched, quietly, carefully, reverently, as your baffled frown grew more prominent. You scanned her with increasing confusion, and the witch couldn’t help herself. She heard your thoughts barreling a mile a minute, felt your disorientation in the thick air between the two of you. She held her breath in an attempt to quell the panic resurfacing in her chest. Why hadn’t you recognized her yet?
Wanda peered deeper into your soul with trepidation, reaching for even a single strand of recognition, of remembrance. Of her .
When she came up empty, her heart plummeted to what she could only imagine was the center of the earth.
There wasn’t a single corner of your mind that she didn’t know by heart, yet somehow, each pocket of your conscience that she turned over held no sign that she had ever existed.
“Wait, you called me– Do I..? Have we–” you finally trip over all of the thoughts that she had already seen tumbling through your head.
“You really don’t remember,” Wanda murmured blankly, ignoring your questions as she felt her words catch on the lump in her throat. Her outstretched hand withdrew from where it still hung in the space between you. Dark, neatly manicured nails dug into pale palms as she gripped her necklace, holding onto the charm as if it was the only thing keeping her legs from giving out beneath her.
“I’m.. I’m so sorry,” you said earnestly, taking a step away from her. Guilt blanketed your features as you bit your lip. “I don’t think that I do.”
“No no, darling,” she tried to assure you. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Wanda smiled sadly, as the tears she couldn’t suppress welled up in her eyes.
You couldn’t help but feel connected to this woman, despite having never met her before. You had clearly impacted her in some way, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out where you would have met her before. You suddenly had so many questions. How the hell did she know your name? Who was she? What had even compelled you to speak to her? You’ve never approached random people on the street; there’s no way to know what to expect from people in New York. So..why aren’t you afraid of this stranger with the glowing eyes? Those kind, all-knowing, desperately tragic eyes that had somehow lodged themselves into the heart of your being?
“Do you…know me?” You took another step back. She leaned forward automatically, almost imperceptibly. You could tell she wanted to respect the distance you created, but it was as if there was a magnetic field vibrating between the two of you, pulling you both ever closer together. She sighed, letting her head fall slightly to the side, and sniffled quietly. There go those shattered, unfathomably green eyes again. They float gently over your face, looking at you like you’re made of glass, like you’ll disappear into thin air if she speaks too loudly.
“I do, (Y/N),” she landed on simply, slowly nodding her head. Shivers ran through your body at the way she said your name. She inhaled deeply, eyes still boring into your soul. “I do.”
Her watery gaze seemed to rest on a place that was beyond you. A faltering breath escaped her trembling lips as a new, unstoppable wave of emotion washes over her. The woman suddenly crumbled before you, and your heart broke. On sheer instinct, you gathered her into your embrace before she had the chance to collapse against the brick wall behind her. Allowing her to bury her head in your shoulder, you held her tight as wracking sobs shook through her body. You found yourself combing through her silky hair, whispering assurances in her ear, running your hand up and down her back. She grabbed a fistful of the back of your shirt as though to anchor herself in the moment. You couldn’t say how long you stood there together, letting her cling to you as though both of your lives depended on it. Time felt different around her. Everything felt different around her.
Eventually, her shaking sobs turned into sniffles. Her shaky breathing evened out, and her grip on you loosened before she altogether let you go and stepped out of your arms. This time, it was you who leaned back towards her, almost instantly missing her touch.
“God, I- I’m so sorry. You must think I’m insane,” she laughed humorlessly, wiping away her tears and avoiding your gaze.
“No, I,” you faltered. “I’m just.. a bit lost, is all.”
She finally looked at you and laughed, genuinely this time. She had a lovely smile.
“I would say that is a pretty severe understatement, moya lyubov,” her eyes danced with an endearment that you’d not yet had the time to earn.
“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” you divulged in a start, unable to stomach being the cause of this stranger’s pain, no matter how confused you were.
“Darling, it isn’t your fault,” she sighed, a sad smile still playing on her lips. “None of this is.”
“Then why do I feel like there’s a crater in your chest that was made by me?”
Your eyes searched hers for any answers, and her delicate smile fell.
“This won’t make an ounce of sense to you, draga... But when you..when I lost you..it was like I was standing in a pitch black cave. Forced to watch my last candle get blown out, leaving me grasping at the smoke it left in the air until even the smell of it had faded away. And that was that. My last chance at finding a way out of that cave.”
She was right, it made no fucking sense. But you can’t stop the chill that runs down your spine.
“And somehow, here you are again,” she continued, stepping closer again. “My beautiful flame, burning bright as ever. ...With no idea who I am. No way to contextualize any of this. And no reason to trust in anything that I’m saying…. Yet, still trying to.. Always trying for me."
“You haven’t lied to me,” you responded softly, unsure of where your answer came from. “I can feel.. I just don’t- I mean, I wish-” you faltered, unable to conjure the right words.
She slowly brought her hands up to hold your face, giving you time to move away if you wished. You barely dared to breathe, let alone move. Your eyelids fluttered as her fingertips traipsed along your skin. She was so gentle with you, for a moment you began to second guess if she was touching you at all. You looked up at her, taking in her parted lips and devastated expression. Her tired, tearstained eyes were somehow an even more startling shade of green than before. She met your gaze, and you watched as her eyes began to swim again.
It was as though she already knew what you were going to tell her.
“I would remember,” you exhaled breathily. “I would remember having known someone who looks at me like I hung the stars in the sky, and then painted them black.”
“I know, darling,” she caressed, silent streams running down from her eyes. “I know.”
“Then why don’t I?”