Chapter 1

Breath of Fresh Air

Blue skies were always Wanda's favorite. They reminded her of happier times, of times before…this. The ground beneath her window was covered in white. A perfect winter morning. Aesthetically, anyway.

Sokovia's winters were cloudy and cold, but there were the odd few days where the mornings were so beautiful and crisp that you couldn't not appreciate them. She had a few memories stored away of her and her brother enjoying the snow. It wasn't too much of a novelty in Sokovia, but when the first heavy snow fell, that was when Pietro's world really lit up. She remembered racing him down the flights of stairs to get outside first; even without his powers he was always an easy winner. The little brunette whirlwind would dart past his neighbours, almost knocking them over, ignoring the threats his mother would roar after him. Wanda could never keep up with him, even when she played dirty and tugged at his sleeves to hold him back. You couldn't touch Pietro Maximoff. The family were not rich by any means. In fact, in their entire building, there was no one of wealth among them. It made sense. Nobody with money would live in those crowded, dingy flats. The lids of bins and old plywood would be used as sleds, and snowmen of all shapes and sizes littered the little green the flats had. There were swarms of children out on those days, all playing with each other, all laughing without a care in the world. At one stage, the Maximoffs were like that, too.

"We're here." Wanda's head snapped around, and the memory she was painfully savouring melted away. She had been staring out of the window of the quinjet, but had not noticed it landing. The sight was much the same; very white and very cold.

"Where exactly is here?" Wanda asked, unbuckling her seatbelt and joining her pilot. Sam Wilson scratched his chin. Life on the run was stealing him of time to shave, so stubble covered his face.

"It's the co-ordinates Steve sent me." Sam zipped up his jacket to the very top and huffed. He pressed the communications button. Wanda stepped closer as they waited for Steve's voice. She was the only other person there, and a grumpy Sam wasn't the best company. Static flowed through the jet as Sam jammed the button again. Looking around at the empty jet, she wished the others were there. Sam wasn't the worst person to be with – she knew the answer to that right now was Tony – but she wished Clint were here, or Steve. She knew Scott and Clint chose life at home with their families over life on the run. Both were under house arrest, so it was virtually impossible for her to see either of them. She knew Clint would probably be just as stressed and grumpy as Sam was right now, but having someone who looked after her, not as a friend, but as a…well, as some sort of father figure…would have been easier. She wasn't completely sure where Steve was right now. The last she had heard of him he was hiding out in Colorado. The light went green, and Sam wasted no time in ranting.

"So, let me get this straight, Cap," he began. Wanda would have suggested that he actually checked it was Steve first, but she didn't want to interrupt him right now. "It's the middle of December, and you plant us in a frozen wasteland?"

"Nice to know you've arrived safely," Steve answered. Wanda knew there was a smile in his voice. "It's just for a few days, Sam. Just until I sort out a more permanent-y sort of place for you guys. I know it's a pain in the ass always having to be moved around. Just trust me, OK?"

"I'd trust you a whole lot more if you shipped us off to Hawaii or something," Sam quipped back, but the bite had gone out of his argument. He knew how hard it was for Steve, always having to be twenty steps ahead of everyone else.

"I know," Steve laughed. "How's the kid?" Wanda rolled her eyes, but there was a smile playing on her lips. She was far from a child, but to Clint and Steve, she knew she would always be a little girl.

"She's here, listening to every word." Sam shot her a small, tired smile. "Wanna talk to her?" Before Steve could answer, Sam stood out of his seat and motioned for Wanda to take it. "Gotta sort out all my snow crap," he sighed, loud enough for Steve to hear him. Wanda sat, and placed her finger on the button. The quinjet was an older model, so it was easier for Steve to get his hands on it. Much like a walkie-talkie, when one wanted to talk, they pushed down the button. When one wanted to listen, they sat still. It was old fashioned, but Wanda liked it that way. She waited for Sam to disappear down the back, then spoke.

"Hey, Steve." She released the button.

"Wanda. Good to hear from you. How're you doing, kid?" She knew saying 'great' would be an obvious lie. She knew she could trust Steve. There was no need for mind games with him. No need for lies.

"I am tired," she stated. "But I know that that is not your fault. I just wish things would go back to normal. We can't wish for such things."

"I'm sorry you were dragged into this, Wanda." Steve sounded genuine. He wasn't simply trying to make her feel better. "It's not so bad there, is it?" Wanda took another glance outside the window.

"It's not," she smiled, though she knew he couldn't see her. "It's pretty empty, but it's beautiful. It reminds me of Sokovia." Steve sensed the slight sadness in her voice. From his room in Colorado, a stingy little three star bed and breakfast, he held is communications device in his hands. He wanted to ask her about it, pressed the button twice, but lost the courage both times. He pressed the button before he could change his mind again.

"How are you doing now? Dealing with that? Where are you at these days?" Wanda wanted nothing more than to ramble on about her parents, Pietro and Sokovia. She wanted someone to hug and cry on the shoulder of. The problem was, the person she wanted to really carry out that role was dead, and everyone else was absent. She had Sam, but as of right now, she truly was alone. She thought it best to keep it to herself. It had been over a year, but she still had nightmares of losing Pietro. Nightmares of her parent's deaths, of the building collapsing and leaving her and Pietro all alone, but in those horrific dreams, Pietro was dead too. Lying beside her, not as a child but as an adult. Dead. She had nightmares of the years they had gave to Strucker, of the experimentation they had signed up for. All for nothing. Nightmares of Ultron, of the master plan which she and her twin had unknowingly helped him with, to destroy the Avengers who were now her family. Or who were. Nightmares of the weeks spent in the RAFT, where she spent twenty three hours a day in solitary confinement because of who she was and what she could do. Where a step out of line meant 'zap!' Where straight-jackets were her primary fashion.

It wasn't all bad though. She dreamt too. She dreamt sweet, pleasant dreams. Sometimes, her unconscious mind allowed her to have Pietro back. In a world where he never died. He was happy in those dreams, not a bullet-hole or drop of blood in sight. Sometimes. Mostly, though, her sweet dreams were filled with someone else. Someone she missed even more than Steve or Clint. Someone she missed just as much as Pietro. Wars tear countries apart. Civil wars tear people apart.

"I…I don't really know the answer to that," she stuttered. She had made up her mind then, to keep the gates of her mind closed. "I take every day as it comes. It's selfish to ask for more."

"Nothing about you is selfish, Wanda. Remember that, won't you?" Steve ordered. She nodded, knowing he couldn't see her. "Now, you take care of yourself there, won't you? I've scoped it out. It's a nice little village. Have you ever been to Switzerland? It's nice." Well, at least she knew where she was now. "I've got to sort some things out here, but you'll call me if you need anything? Sam will look after you, don't worry."

"I can look after myself," Wanda smirked. "But I appreciate the sentiment." There was a laugh, a goodbye, and then silence. Wanda embraced it.

"Ooh, log cabins. Cute," Sam shivered as he neared the lodges. His footwear was not very suitable for snow, but Wanda's hob-nailed boots kept her feet warm at least. Wanda didn't share Sam's sarcasm. The place was beautiful, a real winter wonderland. There were mountains in the distance, and a little lake behind the lodges that was semi-frozen over. It was like a scene on a Christmas card. To avoid detection, the pair had to abandon the quinjet in the woods about a kilometer from where they were now. Sam, now damp from snow and bitter from the cold, made his way to the main building. Wanda waited outside. This place was for tourists, that much was obvious. There was an Irish family, made stand out because of their bróg, and an American couple. There were a few others; a British woman was taking selfies with her boyfriend, and two Indian men were kitted out in ski-gear. Even with all of the diversity, everyone had one thing in common. They were happy, they were loved; they were in love. So it seemed, Wanda fit in perfectly here, or at least, she should be. If things were different. If nothing had changed.

When Wanda was in the R.A.F.T for those few weeks, in solitary confinement for the majority of that, she was in a personal void. She was fed and brought to the toilet, given an hours exercise and was strapped up for a further twenty three hours. She could hear Clint, Sam and Scott, and could see them if she strained, but despite the boys' attempts to cheer her us, she had never felt so alone. At least with Strucker she was with Pietro. Here, everyone was either teased in front of her, or miles away, sitting in the Avenger's base, looking as lost and forlorn as she was. Her hands ached from the straight jacket, but the ticking by her neck reminded her to stay still and quiet. She was given several little warning zaps, but she had only been shocked three times. She remembered the first time she refused to tone her powers down, unaware of the inhumane, savage electrical fire that would ring through her body. That was the worst one. The scream that left her throat was primal; it surprised even herself. The vile, ravenous threats that left Clint surprised her even more. She had never seen him so angry. She was sure his throat was bleeding from the sheer force of his shouts. The others had given their inputs too, but it had been Clint who really stood up for her. The other two shocks were half the force. Perhaps the guards were a little more afraid of Clint. The day Steve came back for them, it was as if Wanda was in a dream. Surprising as it seemed, as the boys were broken out, Wanda hesitated. She didn't want to run.

"Wanda, hey!" Clint had coaxed as Steve held off guards as Sam dashed back to get his wings. As quick as a bullet, Clint hopped into her cell. He tore the straps off of her jacket and went to grab the shock collar.

"No," she whispered, pulling back. Her arms ached as she moved them, and her fingers cracked at their sudden freedom. "If you touch it, it will fry me."

"OK, I won't go near it. Are you OK? You're not hurt, are you?" He touched her face, tilting her chin up to take a better look at the collar. He could see the pink, inflamed skin underneath it, circling her neck. He cursed. Looked her up and down once more, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her cell. It felt nice to be able to hold someone's hand.

"I'm sore, but I'll be fine." She knew that the collar had burned her neck when it shocked her the first time, and the two milder shocks and the warning zaps had not helped its healing process. She knew her powers were unbalanced. As she moved her free hand, red sparks only faintly danced at her fingers. Keeping them pent up for so long made them slightly dormant outside herself, but within, they raged like a fire.

"Lang!" Clint hollered. Scott skidded next to the pair. Clint let go of Wanda's hand after giving it a small squeeze. "Take Wanda to Cap's quinjet," he ordered, giving her a slight smile. "And take that blasted thing off of her." Scott nodded. If anyone of them knew anything about removing a shock collar, it would be Scott.

Scott led her through the prison. She wasn't sure he even knew where they were going, but the red flashing lights, the screaming of the sirens and the shouting of guards. She knew she was no help. She was nothing but a burden to Scott, but he seemed to sense what corners the guards were hiding behind. He dodged them all, sprinting through corridors, coming back for her when she bashed into a wall or door with dizziness lack of co-ordination. Her ears were ringing, and her vision was swimming…Her Vision…

"Wanda, watch it!" Intense heat encircled her neck, and her scream filled the room. It was as if every nerve in her body was alight. Before her eyes closed, she saw a guard in uniform, a remote pointed at her neck. She didn't feel herself fall to the floor, but she must have, as she contorted and twitched there. She was staring up, tears blurring her already blurred sight. All she could feel was pain. Until she felt nothing at all.

She didn't remember much after that. Running, well, someone else was running. She must have been in their arms. Other than that, all she was aware of was a numbness that consumed her entire aura. The call of sleep was too much, which was a good thing looking back. The next part of Scott's job was going to prove painful.

Watery eyes flicked open, but all she saw was white. At first she thought Sokovia. Strucker's lab. But something didn't fit there. Ah, there was no worried Pietro looking over her, calling for her. Voices entered her mind, though she couldn't string a single sentence together. The whiteness began to subside, and the image of a roof began to knit itself together. There was someone looking over her, though. A brightness shone from its head, and Wanda could only think of one person. Her heart soared.

"Vi…" her throat wouldn't let her speak anymore, and a harsh, painful cough scratched its way through her. It was like she swallowed glass. The person moved. 'No Viz, don't go' she wanted to scream. She moved her head to follow him. Big mistake. She let out a slight sob as the pain tightened around her neck, and Vision finally spoke…except it wasn't Vision's voice. As her eyes forced sharpness into themselves, she was able to see the person clearly. It wasn't him. Standing where so hoped to find him, was Scott Lang, with a little head lamp shining down on her. Her gut tasted its newest drop of disappointment.

"You're awake!" he beamed, turning the lamp off. She was laying on a chair which was leaning back to its limit. "Don't move your neck too much, 'kay? You got burned pretty badly, but I've bandaged it up the best I can. At least we got this off." He reached for a mangled piece of metal, which Wanda recognized immediately. Another hand knocked it away, and Scott was shoved lightly out of the way.

"Hey, kid," Clint came into view. She opened her mouth. He held up a hand to stop her. "Nah, don't talk. You'll only hurt yourself. We'll be OK, now. Cap's taking us somewhere safe." He flicked hair out of her eyes as he spoke. Wanda's eyes travelled beyond him. She could see Nat flying the jet, and Sam was tinkering away at his wings. He noticed her looking, and gave a small wave and a smile. Steve was nowhere to be seen. "I have to tell you something. Scott and I, we've been given an ultimatum. We've got families. Life on the run, it's not gonna work for us, you know? You understand that? Well, I can't live my life away from Laura, or the kids. Same for Scott's little girl."

"So what are you saying?" Wanda rasped. Clint looked down for a couple of seconds, and Wanda saw Scott look away too, arms crossed over his chest. Clint placed his hand on hers, and her fingers curled around it, weakly, but it was just to show she was listening to him.

"We've got to go home, kid. But we won't be allowed to leave it. You know what house arrest is?" She wasn't ready to talk again, but she nodded. "It's better than never seeing them again, but it means…for a while…"

"I get it," she rasped. She gave his hand another small squeeze. "Look after your family."

"You're family, too, Wanda. That's why I've put the fear of God into Cap that he better look after you. It won't always be like this, but for now, it's gonna have to be." Wanda gave a smile, though she felt like crying. Clint nodded, and with a final pat, he let her hand go and turned away.

"That's right," a voice came from behind her. She made another head turn, whimpered, and focused on listening instead. Steve came into view, he touched her shoulder and smiled at her. "So, anywhere you'd like to stop off first? Anyone you'd like to call?" Steve cringed at himself, of course she wouldn't have anyone to call, but Wanda thought for a moment regardless.

"I think," she coughed. "I think I would like to stop off somewhere later. When I'm…" she raised her hand to her neck, "feeling a little better."

"Great," Steve smiled, reclaiming his arm and looping his thumbs in the buckle of his belt. Even through his smile, he looked tired. Wanda wondered what happened with Bucky; all she ever heard were rumours. Between that and searing the team in half over the Sokovian Accords (which Wanda still blamed herself for) she wondered how hurt this man must be right now, but he always had to keep going, because he was their leader. He was their Captain. "So, where were you thinking?" Wanda didn't need to think about this. She and Vision had always made a half-joking plan to get far away from Avenger's issues. Some place where they wouldn't be recognized in an instant. Even just for a few days. She opened her mouth to speak, and this time the word came out clear, without a rasp or cough.

"Edinburgh."