Chapter 8
During the couple of days that followed their visit to Clint's house, various kinds of negative emotions had come rushing back to Wanda, and she felt like she couldn't handle it. It was all too much, too overwhelming, too painful. Guilt kept crashing over her, she felt powerless, which remained pretty ironic considering the fact that she was one of the strongest avengers.
In the course of these days, the Sokovian hadn't exactly done much : she didn't have the energy, and she certainly didn't want to bother any of the compound's inhabitants. Wanda was convinced that her presence there was already too much of an issue, she was an outsider ; she had hurt them, had went into their heads, had messed with their memories. She still needed to eat, nonetheless. Hence, Wanda had found the habit of going to the kitchen in the middle of the night, at a very specific time slot, because she didn't want to risk running into Natasha. The witch didn't feel like she had the strenght to deal with the snarky Russian woman, her comebacks would probably be ridicule and weak-minded.
This day, Wanda had been awaken by the sunshines, since she forgot to close the shutters, last night. It caused a deep sigh to be expulsed of her chest, she was in the middle of a dream that had warmed her heart. Even if this joy didn't come from something real, it felt comforting, and she didn't want to miss it. She usually spent her days sleeping when the feelings of gloominess became shattering again, as this simple activity seemed to be the easiest way to escape from reality. Wanda could only see her family in her dreams. And it somehow made her feel worse to be able to hear their voices again, because whenever she would wake up, she would sense her loneliness invade her whole mind.
As Wanda slowly opened her eyes, her stomach began to growl : she forgot to eat, yesterday. It made her feel stupid, how could someone neglect a vital need ? Before pessimistic thoughts came to overrun her dreary brain, she rapidly woke up, which caused her to feel a bit dizzy, obviously. She put on a big sweater that Pietro would have adored, and headed to the kitchen. Thankfully, the area appeared to be deserted, it was quiet. But Wanda knew it wouldn't last, she quickly looked through the cupboards, gathering different commodities in her hands. She then proceeded to exit the kitchen and silently walked back to her room without meaning to meet anyone, which epicly failed.
Natasha was comfortably seated on a couch that was close to a huge window, the view was incredible. As the spy seemed very absorbed in whatever activity she was doing on her laptop, Wanda kept walking on her tiptoes, hoping she would be left unnoticed. Of course, she didn't. Without looking up from her screen, Natasha spoke up in her habitual casual tone, “Finally out of your hiding cave ?”
“I'm not hiding, I'm resting” Wanda mumbled, her plan was ruined, and she suddenly felt some sort of anger coming in waves. It often happened, she didn't always understand her emotions, but Pietro used to be here to help. Now she was alone, alone with her problems she had never learnt how to deal with on her own. And she was talking with a former Russian assassin that she considered to be the most beautiful woman she had ever laid her eyes on. Things simply didn't make sense, sometimes.
“Oh, I see. You must be exhausted from all the training,” the spy swiftly replied as an attempt to highlight the fact that the Sokovian had missed yesterday's session, even though Natasha didn't come to her bedroom to remind her. If the new avenger didn't show up to the place they had both agreed to work out in, it was her loss. Natasha's job didn't consist of motivating people to be responsible and to respect plans, there was however a part of her that felt intrigued. She had evaluated the witch as someone who remained hardworking – even if she sometimes complained – but she may have misjudged her, which was however very unlikely.
Wanda rolled her eyes, trying to repress a smile. It didn't make sense to smile after someone had just skillfully criticized her, but Natasha was so good at it. Some images of her previous dream appeared in her mind, which was accompagnied by another wave of sadness. She felt it become too much, already, she needed to be alone. “Funny. I don't think I owe you any explanations, though,” Wanda bit back, her accent peeking through the words.
Her answer made Natasha look up, and they locked eyes for a small moment, before Wanda broke the contact, leaving so that she could finally go to her bedroom. The witch thought she had noticed an ounce of surprise and worry in Natasha's electrifying stare, but she was probably wrong. The spy was most likely pretending to feel concerned, she couldn't actually care. It wasn't possible.
When she eventually entered her bedroom, Wanda didn't feel the relief she had hoped for. She was simply alone, but at least she wouldn't annoy anyone, nor hurt anyone. Opening up to people about the roots of her issues was something she had decided to stop doing, only Pietro could understand her. The Sokovian woman wouldn't waste the energy left in her so that someone pitied her and felt burdened by all her pain. If they knew how she truly felt, they would perhaps try to protect her, but the last person that was supposed to protect her was gone. It was all meaningless, now.
A knock that felt extremely remote startled her, so distant she wasn't sure the calculative noise came from her door. A voice rubbed her doubts away, “Maximoff, you okay ?” Natasha asked, her poll sounded steady. It was starting to impress Wanda, the way this woman always seemed gathered and confident.
Wanda realised she was standing in the middle of her bedroom, completely motionless. She put down the food she had collected earlier on her desk and sat down on the floor, close to her door. She hadn't tidied her bedroom, yet, and still wanted to be alone, but she couldn't totally ignore the spy. “Yes, I'm fine,” she articulated, imitating the firmness of Natasha's mesmerizing voice.
On the other side of the door, even without being able to analyse the Sokovian's facial expressions, Natasha could feel she was lying. However, she could easily understand, she tended to do the same thing – better – but still, she knew Wanda wouldn't talk to her now, or ever. Why would she talk to Natasha of all people ? The witch would probably prefer to share what upset her to a nice comforting person, such as Steve, not her. She still tried to reach out, one last time, “I don't... really know what's going on but, hm, if you tell me what to do, maybe I can help.”
This simple tentative pushed Wanda over the edge, she sensed her eyes becoming more teary, to a point she would soon need to let the teardrops roll down her cheekbones. Therefore, she quickly answered so that Natasha would leave, “Not now, tonight maybe.”
Natasha whispered a small “Okay” which was barely audible before walking away, not ready to give up on the witch yet.