Oh. My. Gosh. CIVIL WAR! I'm still processing all the feels that movie hit me with. It's an amazing movie. You have to go see it!
I have soooo much to say about it. But it's late and I need to get to bed but I really wanted to post this first so all I'm going to say is that when I was watching Steve and Wanda interact in the movie, it seemed as though she brought out his fatherly side (is that a thing? I'm tired so I can't even think right now.) I love Cap as the team dad, taking care of them and having the heart-to-heart talks, with all that concern and empathy shining in his beautiful blue eyes. :)
Wanda stood in the street, frozen by the shock of what she had just done. The road around her alternated between emptying and filling, the pedestrians running for safety while rescue workers flooded in. Smoke spilled out of the hollowed out building, smearing the sky with plumes of ink. Engines roared, their throaty growls unable to drown out the panicked screams of the residents, the cries of the wounded, the sobs of the terrified. Firemen hurriedly approached the burning shell of the office building, dragging their hose as they went. A man in a paramedic uniform shoved past her as he rushed to aid those fleeing the inferno. She was aware of him, the movement of his passage sending her bouncing off a nearby vehicle. Dazed, she slowly righted herself, unable to pull her eyes from the destruction before her. A mechanical whir sounded behind her and she didn't even turn her head.
"Wanda?" Someone called.
She watched the fire devour the building. On one floor, the heat blossomed suddenly, bursting windows and sending bits of glass raining down to the street below.
"Wanda?" This time, a hand dropped on her shoulder and spun her around. Sam's eyes stared at her from behind his goggles. "What happened? Where's Steve?"
Sliding her hand from her mouth, Wanda opened her lips but was unable to force any sound out. All she could taste was the smoke in the air.
"Wanda?" Sam gave her shoulder a single, firm shake.
"There was...a-a bomb," Wanda stuttered, blinking furiously. "The Captain...he w-went inside." She pointed a trembling finger at the burning structure.
Sam's eyes tracked from her hand to the fire and he cursed under his breath. "Why would they put a bomb way up there?" he wondered aloud.
"They didn't," Wanda said, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
"Then how did this happen?" Sam gestured to the exploded building.
At that moment, Steve appeared through the smoke, leading a group of stumbling survivors out into the tainted sunlight, the limp body of a woman slung over his back. Sam rushed to his side.
"It was me," Wanda whispered, turning her head away from the wreckage.
The afternoon faded into evening, the sky bruised purple by the departing sun. Wanda remained rooted in place, gaze fixed on a wooden crate, lying upended on the street. Shards of glass dusted its surface, the pieces struggling to retain the last remnants of daylight. Sounds seemed muted to Wanda, the outside world scarcely penetrating the cocoon of quiet she wrapped herself in. She couldn't acknowledge what had occurred mere hours before. It was too horrible. She didn't want to think about it. So she looked at the box, blocked out the sirens, the coughing, the crying, and escaped into a place where she hadn't just thrown a bomb into a building full of innocent people.
"Hey," the soft voice was one she could never ignore.
Taking a deep breath, she rotated until she was facing the speaker. But she wouldn't lift her head.
"You okay?" he questioned.
She glanced up then and frowned as she took in Steve's appearance. His uniform was singed in several places, the burned fabric curled and shriveled. Sticking up from his scalp at odd angles, hair was silver was ash and clumped together with sweat. A line of soot ran from his forehead to his jaw. His eyes were a dull blue, as if the smoke had scrubbed the vibrancy from them, though the concern in them was no less potent.
Wanda wanted to reach out and clean the smoke from his face. She wanted to nod her head and tell him she was fine. She wanted to rewind time and erase her mistake. All she could do was shake her head, releasing another tear to join the others she hadn't been aware were rolling down her cheeks.
"C'mere," Steve invited gently, opening his arms.
Slowly, Wanda stepped forward, her boots shuffling through debris, allowing Steve to draw her into his embrace. As his arms wrapped loosely around her back, she pressed her face into his chest. He smelled like smoke. She took a shuddering breath, burying herself closer to him, feeling the cool metal of the star in his uniform dig grooves in her forehead. His arms tightened slightly in response to her distress. She closed her eyes when he settled his chin on the top of her head. The gesture broke her bubble of denial and the world swept in, reminding her of what she had done, the damage she had caused. A sob built in her throat and she was too tired to swallow it. It slipped out of her lips, taking her last reserves of strength with it. She sagged against Steve and he easily took her weight.
"You're okay. Everything's going to be alright," Steve murmured.
His voice rumbled through his diaphragm and Wanda turned her head to the side, resting her ear against it, feeling his lungs expand as he drew breath to form the words, listening as they echoed through his chest before he spoke them.
"You're safe now. It's fine. Everything's fine," Steve continued in a soothing rhythm. "It's okay. You're alright."
The words were meaningless, promises without fulfillment. They were the best things Wanda had heard in months. She sighed, transported back through the years. Back to when she was nine years old and her father read her a bedtime story, the words meaningless fiction but his voice an incomparable comfort. Closing her eyes, she simply enjoyed the solace, both present and remembered. Steve held her patiently, murmuring assurances.
Eventually, the combination of his soft tone and her exhaustion nudged her toward sleep. When she realized that staying in her current position would cause her to surrender to its pull, she pushed herself upright, reluctantly leaving the warmth and shelter of Steve's arms. With the back of her hand, she brushed at the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Night had come over the city without her knowledge and she blinked into the dark. The blackness hid the remains of the building she knew was in front of her and for that she was grateful. She wasn't sure she could handle having to see the evidence of her failure.
"Let's get you home," Steve said quietly, taking her by the elbow and steering her away from the decimated structure.
They made their way through the city, Steve carefully leading her through debris, avoiding the mangled cars, the smashed booths, spilled wares and bullet casings. The streets were quiet, civilians tucked away in their houses and city workers waiting for the assistance of the sun before attempting to clear away the signs of a fight. Wanda focused on the movement of her feet, right foot and then left. When the pattern made her dizzy, she switched to focusing on Steve, his broad shoulders cutting a path through the town, moving unerringly toward the jet that would take them back to the Avengers compound.
The other members of their team were waiting for them on the airstrip. Wanda avoided eye contact with all of them, ducking her head and boarding the jet without a word. She chose a seat by the window and leaned her head against the glass. From her position, she could see Sam approached Steve. The two began speaking and Wanda watched as Steve ran a hand through his hair, dislodging tiny bits of plaster, glass and ash. Their conversation was brief. When it ended, Sam walked toward the boarding ramp and Steve stood still a moment longer, his shoulders drooping fractionally. He turned in her direction and as soon as he saw her, he straightened them immediately and offered her a small smile of reassurance. The sight lifted her spirit and she felt one corner of her mouth lift in reply.
Once everyone was on board, the pilot took off and Wanda looked out the window at the city until the distance shrunk it to little more than indistinct patches of light and shadow. Unable to see anything else, she leaned back in her chair and turned her attention to her teammates. Sam was slouched in his seat, clearly on his way into a deep slumber. Natasha was speaking quietly into the phone held by one hand, the other hand absently rubbing at the roots of her hair. Wanda's gaze shifted to Steve, only to find him looking back at her. She quickly dropped her eyes and searched the area around her for a suitable distraction. The only object she could find was the pamphlet detailing the plane's emergency procedures. She flipped it open across her lap, scanning the pages without reading the printed words.
A shadow fell on the illustrated page. "Wanda, get some sleep," Steve advised softly.
She mutely shook her head, hair obscuring her face. A gloved hand gently took the paper from off her knees. Steve folded it carefully and set it back where it belonged before turning to catch her eyes. She waited for him to say more, but he merely looked at her, something deep in his eyes warming them from their dulled appearance into the shade of blue she was more accustomed to. A beat passed. Then Wanda leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
The quaking of the jet nearly woke her, dragging her to the edge of consciousness, to the place where dreams and memories melded. The earth shook as fire exploded and people made of smoke cried tears of broken glass. Her eyebrows twitched together, her head shifting. A large palm settled on her upper arm, calming her, banishing the visions and enabling her to drift back into a peaceful sleep.
When she woke fully, it was to the light of the planes interior bulbs, the cabin fully illuminated upon landing. She rose from her seat, standing and noticing she was the last one to disembark. Steve met her at the ramp, giving her his hand to steady herself as she climbed down the steps. The white lights in the hangar nearly blinded her, the harsh white a stark contrast from the golden glow of the jet. She rubbed at her eyes with a knuckle and shuffled forward. In the corner of her vision, she noticed Steve watching her with an almost fond smile.
"I think someone needs to take another nap," he teased softly.
"Shut up," Wanda laughed quietly. "It's bright in here."
"Sure it is," Steve nodded knowingly.
Wanda shook her head, smiling, and headed to the doors at the end of the hangar. They opened to let her into the main building of the compound. As she stepped through, Sam was just disappearing down the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
"I think Sam's got the right idea." Steve tipped his chin in the direction of the disappearing soldier.
"But I just woke up," Wanda pointed out, interrupting herself with a yawn.
Steve raised an eyebrow.
"Perhaps you are right," Wanda sheepishly admitted.
Steve nodded and crossed over to the kitchen. Knowing that Steve's increased metabolism required high maintenance, Wanda left him to prepare himself a meal. She went down the same corridor Sam had, noticing how much easier it was to relax in the familiar surroundings. She padded to her room and reveled in the normality of it. The first thing she did was change from her uniform into her pajamas. The oversized tee and well worn sweatpants were a relief to her skin. She went into her bathroom, intending to brush her teeth. But her reflection stopped her. The pale cheeks and dirty hair scared her away from the mirror above the sink and she retreated to her bed. A throw pillow provided her with a snuggling companion. She hugged it between her body and her knees, which she drew up to her chest. A knock on the door stopped her from diving into her morose thoughts.
"Come in," she invited, assuming Natasha wanted to borrow her hair dryer again, or something equally trivial. She was surprised when Steve entered, bearing two green mugs of hot liquid, the draft from the open door swirling the steam into delicate patterns.
"Is that-" she started, uncurling herself.
"Hot cocoa," Steve announced, lifting the cups in a salute.
Wanda set aside the pillow and eagerly reached for the mug he offered her. She took a sip and hummed appreciatively. "With cinnamon. My favorite."
"When I was a kid, my mom always put honey in it," Steve said conversationally, before drinking from his own glass.
"Sounds delicious. Perhaps we can try it some day," Wanda smiled.
Steve shrugged and propped himself against her desk. "I don't have the recipe."
"I'm sure we could find one on the internet," Wanda assured him.
"Probably," Steve conceded.
Wanda took another drink. "You can find anything online," she observed.
"You certainly can," he commented.
"Are you just going to agree with whatever I say?" Wanda queried, peering at Steve over the rim of her mug.
"I might," Steve admitted, grinning.
After sampling her cocoa once more, Wanda raised a brow. "Do you do that often?"
"I might," Steve impishly repeated.
"So most of the time you are not even paying attention to what I'm saying?" Wanda inquired, feigning offense.
"Most of the time," Steve teased.
Wanda laughed, the sound coming from her naturally. They lapsed into an easy silence, content to simply sip their drinks and keep each other company. A few minutes passed before Steve stood and took her empty mug from her, hanging both cups by their handles on his finger.
"Alright, lights out," he directed, crossing the room and pausing with his hand above the light switch.
Wanda scooted back on her mattress and pulled on the covers. It wasn't until she was comfortably settled beneath them that Steve turned off the lights. He started to close the door, his figure backlit by the illumination in the hallway.
"Steve," Wanda abruptly called.
He opened the door wide again. "Yeah?"
"Thank you," she said, wishing she could see his face.
"You're welcome," he responded softly.
He closed the door and Wanda's eyes grew heavy from the pleasant effects of the cocoa. When she slept, there was no trace of fire in her dreams.