Chapter 1

"Speaking in Russian"

"Speaking in English"

So I wanted to write about the twins' lives before they joined the Avengers. I'm not too sure if I'm going to go into the actual movie or just leave it as the movie begins. Anyways, it's going to be told from Wanda's POV in third person. So... yeah... Tell me what you guys think when you finish reading it. The more reviews I get, the more likely I'll keep going.

The twins are twelve now. By the Avengers they will be sixteen and in HYDRA's hands. They'll be nineteen by the events of AoU.

Wanda laid under her bed, terrified beyond her worst nightmares. Pietro's arms were wrapped protectively around her waist. She could feel her twin brother breathing sporadically on the back of her neck. It sent chills down her spine, making her squirm in uneasiness.

Her stomach growled. Pangs of hunger tore at her until she felt like she could eat a whole buffet and then some. Wanda had never been so hungry in her life.

Dust rained down from the sky, coating everything in a gray blanket. A trickle of sunlight shone through a hole in the ceiling. A bomb sized hole. A hole that produced a faulty explosive device from the sky hardly a two days ago.

This bomb was sitting not five feet from the twins' faces. In black lettering it read the name of the person the two would come to hate with a burning passion: Stark.

A part of her wanted the bomb to explode- to take them away to be with their parents. Another part screamed for someone to rescue them before it could have a chance of going off. Wanda didn't know which one she wanted more.

She didn't know how long they sat there in silence, hoping and praying that the bomb would not go off. It felt like hours. Then the hours felt like days turned into months turned into years. Her legs fell asleep and her neck was starting to cramp. And then, finally, the search began.

Wanda heard the people first. "Pietro," she whispered, afraid that even the slightest breath of air could cause everything to explode. "Pietro, I hear people."

"Rescuers?"

"Yes," the girl sighed in relief. "Rescuers."

"How long do you think it will take them to get to us, 'Tro?"

"They'll be here soon, Wand. Don't worry."

Again the twins lapsed into deathly silence. They breathed only when needed, and allowed their hopes to rise. Soon, they both thought in tandem, we will be rescued.

She could hear the groans from the injured, joyous shouts from those who found loved ones, and cries of loss from those who had less luck. There would be nobody to shout in joy when they would be rescued. Nobody to hug them and kiss them on their foreheads, telling them all would be alright. Nobody would care. Both of them would be shipped off to an orphanage to be adopted.

"Should we call for help?" Wanda was getting anxious. She could hear searchers getting closer and closer, but the girl was afraid that they'd look over their hiding place.

Pietro didn't respond immediately. His sister couldn't see his face, so she couldn't predict his emotions. It was probably better that way.

"Yes, but we must do so carefully and warn them of the bomb. Otherwise it might go off."

Wanda nodded, forgetting that Pietro couldn't really see her in the darkness under the bed. "Help!" they cried together, hesitant at first. "Help us!"

"We're trapped!" the girl shouted.

"Be careful!" he warned. "A bomb is here as well. It didn't go off!"

They repeated these phrases over and over and over, each time it was uttered the volume got louder and louder until their voices were hoarse from shouting.

"I hear kids over here!" someone alerted the search party.

The words were in English. Wanda didn't know the exact words spoken, but she knew enough from her English class to grasp a bit of the statement. All she understood was 'I', 'kids', and 'here'.

"Pietro, they heard us! They heard us!"

"Yeah… they have."

Her brother had always grasped English better than her, so she had no doubt that he understood most, if not all, of the jumbled shouts from rescuers.

"There's a faulty bomb! Bomb here not exploded!" Pietro shouted in both Russian and choppy English. Hopefully it was enough to warn their to be saviors of the dangers. Wanda only had three fears now: the rescue team wouldn't find them, they would refuse to help them because of the bomb, or the bomb would explode before anyone could save them. She prayed to as many gods as she could think of. Please, Wanda cried in her mind. Please let us get out alive.

It was several hours later that they were found. Then a few more for the rescuers to figure out how to get them out without triggering the bomb. And then a few more for them to actually rescue the twins. Each second dragged on like hours for Wanda.

The rescuers destroyed the wall adjacent to the bed brick by brick until there was a big enough hole for the twins to roll through. Pietro went out first.

He climbed through the opening and into the sunlight, leaving Wanda behind under the bed. Those few seconds caused her to panic. Those twelve seconds. Pietro had been pressed against her for all of those hours, comforting her. The absence of his warmth sent warnings throughout her mind.

The momentary panic dispersed as her twin called to her. "Come on, Wand. Everything will be okay."

She crawled her way through the narrow opening, ignoring the protests of her stiff muscles. A bright light that was the sun greeted her like an old friend, blazing a hello into her eyes. Despite the grave situation, the girl laughed. It felt good to be free again- to be able to stretch her muscles and breathe as she wished.

"Pietro… we're free!"

"Yes, sister. We are."

Pietro embraced her in a hug. She buried her head into the crook of his neck and cried. They had lived. They had lived while their parents had not.

"Shhhhh," comforted Pietro. He ran his fingers through her long, tangled brown hair, brushing all of the dust away. "Mama and Papa wouldn't want us to grieve. They'd want us to get back up- to go and continue with our lives."

"But how can we continue without remembering them? They saved us." Wanda looked up at her taller brother.

He chuckled. "I didn't say forget, Wanda. We should remember them with all of our hearts. Just don't let grief consume you."

Pietro wiped her tears away with his thumb. She thought about what he said. Yes, they should move on, but they should never forget. They should never forget their parents nor the name of the person that had killed them.

All Wanda knew was that Tony Stark would pay.

"Names?" a pudgy British man with a clipboard asked. Shortly after being rescued, they were sent to a nearby recovery station where they would stay until further notice. Tents were hastily set up around the area. People, young and old, sat on the ground or inside. Buildings all around them were broken, pieces of the rubble conspicuous on the street. Most of the debris was cleared from the recovery site, but a lot was still visible.

"Pietro and Wanda Maximoff," her brother answered with an accent. She let him do the talking as she hid shyly behind his arm.

"Age?"

"Twelve."

"Both of you?"

"We are twins."

"Ah," the man scribbled something onto the clipboard. "Date of birth?"

"February 10th," Pietro paused, looking for the right number in English. "1996."

"Which of you is older?"

"Sorry... I... do not understand?"

"Nevermind," the pudgy man shook his head. "Who are your parents?"

Pietro glanced at Wanda. She could tell by the look on his face that he was having trouble translating.

Wanda searched her memory for the translation. "I think he asked for our parent's names."

"Magda and Erik Maximoff."

He nodded and scribbled more down onto the paper. "Do you know where they are?"

Puzzlement crossed Pietro's face again. He looked towards Wanda. She shook her head. This time she couldn't translate.

"I do not understand."

Sighing, the man put down the pen. He told them to wait and walked off.

"Will they send us to an orphanage?" asked Wanda. She didn't want to live like that. She'd heard whispers on the streets telling stories of how horrible they were.

"Yes. But it won't be that bad. We'll be together, I promise."

The man came back a few minutes later with a woman trailing behind him. She smiled warmly at them.

"Do you know where your parents are?" the woman translated.

"They died..."

"Oh," the woman frowned in sympathy. "I-I'm sorry..."

Wanda simply looked down at her dusty shoes.

"We'll... manage," her brother forced out. She could tell he didn't want her pity.

The man with the clipboard rambled something off to the woman, too quick for Wanda to keep up. She guessed that he was talking extremely slowly when asking questions since she could actually keep up then. Now it was just a whirlwind of words that she knew no meaning of.

"He says you'll have to be moved to an orphanage in a few days. For now you are to stay here. Food, water, and new clothing will be supplied to you until all the paperwork and repairs- if needed- are done to the facility. You'll be split-"

"No!" Wanda shouted. It was her first time speaking in front of the strangers. "I won't separate from Pietro." As if to prove her point, she gripped her brother's arm tighter.

The woman looked pleadingly at the man, both of them shooting English rapidly back and forth.

"He'll have to see what he can do. There might not be an orphanage willing to take twins as a package deal since most parents adopt only one child."

Anger welled up inside of Wanda. The way the woman put it made it sound like she and Pietro were objects to be put on display for the highest bidder. Well, I'm staying with 'Tro no matter what.

Pietro nodded and led Wanda away before she could voice her opinion. Another English speaking man approached them.

"You in need of beds?" the man asked in poor Russian. The accent was American. He was tall and scrawny with a light stubble, about twenty years old.

Pietro nodded. The man gestured for them to follow him. Wanda hung tightly onto her brother's arm, weaving in and out of the crowd of homeless people. The word hit the girl harder than she thought it would. Homeless. She and Pietro were homeless now.

"My name is Charlie," he said over his shoulder. "I care you while here."

"I'm Wanda, and this is my twin brother Pietro," she was tired of her brother speaking for her today. "Thank you for providing us a place to stay."

"It no problem. We help where we can."

Charlie suddenly stopped at a hastily set up tent. "Okay if share with each other?"

"Yes. We share," Pietro said in English to make the man's job a bit easier. Wanda could see Charlie visibly relax when he didn't have to translate.

"I can teach you English, if you want," he offered. "You'll need it."

"Thank you. We can teach Russian," her brother offered in return.

Charlie smiled. "I'll look forward to that." He held the tent flap open, allowing Wanda and Pietro to slip in. Inside were two cots and a chest. "Dinner served in hour. Call if you need me."

"Thank you…" Wanda whispered.

"Pleasure's all mine." He put down the flap, enveloping the tent in darkness, and walked off.

Wanda didn't speak until the crunching of gravel underneath Charlie's feet had vanished. "How long do you think we'll stay here?"

Pietro sighed and sat on one of the cots. The girl moved to sit beside him. He scooted over, allowing his sister room to sit.

"I don't know," he draped his arms around Wanda. She leaned into his welcoming chest, resting her head on the crook of his neck. "Charlie seems nice, though. Don't you agree, Wand?"

"Yeah…" she snuggled closer to her brother and wrapped her arms around his midsection.

Silence coated the twins like a heavy blanket. Darkness consumed them, allowing Wanda to think of other things besides her fear. It allowed her to remember.

Remember that her parents were dead.

Remember that she had no home to go to.

Remember that Stark was to blame.

Tears fell down Wanda's face and into her lap. And for once, she was grateful for the darkness that surrounded them.