ii. when all those shadows almost killed your light

"I want Mama," whimpered the young girl, her voice barely echoing in the damp, dank cell she'd been thrown into moments ago. "Where am I? I want Mama."

Her eyes were too filled with tears to adjust to the dim light. She shivered, clutching at herself, shrinking when the two shadows opposite of her crept closer carefully.

"No," she squeaked, shivering. "No. Go away. No."

"Are you all right?" said one of them, a girl. It was nearly impossible to see in the dark, but her heart-shaped face was beautiful; that was clear enough. Her cheekbones were severely pronounced,her eyes shone hard and bright, and her mouth was red and rosy. "We won't hurt you."

The girl only shook her head and closed her eyes, shaking even harder.

The other one, a boy, from the sound of it, cursed suddenly.

"Wanda, can't you see she's soaking wet," he said in a harsh, grating voice that made the girl take a sharp intake of breath. "Here."

There was a rustling sound and the girl peeked at them half-curiously, then burned bright red with embarrassment.

"What are you doing!" she said in a voice three octaves higher than her own.

The boy had taken off his sweater, and was struggling to wriggle out of the shirt beneath it. Seeing as it was about three sizes smaller than himself, it took several minutes.

"I'm not doing anything," the boy grumbled. "I just happen to have a big, caring heart."

"Oh, shush, Pietro," Wanda said. She gave her a comforting smile. "Sorry. My brother's very prickly but he does have a caring heart. He's also got a hero complex. He thinks he can solve every problem."

"I do not," Pietro said, and she almost giggled at his expression.

"See, you can smile," he said, and tossed his shirt at her.

The girl turned even redder.

"Put your sweater on, Pietro," Wanda chided. "You're scaring her." She turned around again. "I'll make sure he doesn't peek. Take off your wet shirt and put this one on."

There was a moment of stuttered protesting, then the girl gave up, seeing Pietro's stubborn expression. Wanda turned her face to the wall, forcing her brother to do the same, and waited until the girl gave a meek, "I'm done."

"So how did you get here?" Pietro said, his voice slightly less harsher. "Did you volunteer too?"

"V-V-Volunteer?" The girl looked slightly, if not overly, aghast. "Why would I do that? I just came to Sokovia to look for my mother. Did you volunteer?"

He gave a short, abrupt nod.

She dare didn't ask why.

"Anyways," Wanda continued hastily, batting her brother away. "Do you have a name?"

The girl shook her head.

"I don't remember it," she said. "Mama disappeared when I was little, and I've been trying to look for her for a while. I accidentally came to Sokovia a few weeks ago and - " She broke off, eyes downcast.

"We'll have to give you a name, then," Pietro said matter-of-factly.

"You can't just name somebody just like that," Wanda told him in exasperation.

"Oh, yeah? Watch me," he shot back, but he was smiling.

The girl decided that she liked him smiling better than scowling.

"How about Astrid?" Wanda suggested. "Petra? Anastasia?"

"I knew a girl called Astrid before," she said hesitantly. "She wasn't very nice."

"I'm very much against calling her Petra," Pietro added.

"Anastasia… might be too fancy," the girl continued. "It sounds pretty, but I don't think it suits me very well."

"No, it doesn't," Pietro said, and Wanda dug an elbow into his ribs. "Ouch! Well, you said you liked it, right? How about a… shorter version? I think Anya's good."

"Anya?" Wanda looked contemplative. "Well, if you like it - "

"Yes, I do!" the girl said vehemently, and Wanda's eyebrows rose. "I - I mean, it sounds nice. I like it."

"Okay, then," Pietro grunted. "You're Anya."

.

.

.

Anya started awake. Had she been sleeping? She didn't know. She was sitting on a chair in the corner rounding to the surgery room, her hairband having slipped off mid-doze. She sat up awkwardly, blinking blearily, and shook the hair out of her face, breathing slowly.

I can't believe I was dreaming about that again, she thought bemusedly. It's been so long, I hadn't thought - I mean, I'd never expected to -

She sighed, and stretched. The good thing about wearing this lab coat was that it was slightly insulating. As much as her high heels were pinching her toes, she felt cozy and slightly sleepy.

She must've imagined the patient's face. There was no way that Pietro was out - for heaven's sake, it had been years. She never really thought about him anymore, anyway -

No, only about fifty times a day.

"Shut up, Anya," she told herself.

The sound of shoes hurrying down the hall made her freeze in her tracks. Helen? No, those aren't heels… Alek? Jamie?

"How is my brother doing? Where is he? Bring me to him right now," a familiar feminine voice demanded, and Anya's heart stopped.

It really was them.

She clapped her hands to her mouth, feeling tears form at the corners of her eyes. It had been so long since they'd seen each other -

"I'm really sorry, Miss Maximoff," said Alek's voice very sheepishly (and rather meekly). "We can't let you see him right now. Doctor Bennett is still operating on him."

"Let me IN," Wanda shouted. "I want to see my brother. Let me in, now."

"I'm really sorry," Alek squeaked, evidently having no experience dealing with angry females. Anya felt a twinge of sympathy for the boy; he sounded completely exhausted and scared at the same time. "I can't let you do that."

"GET OUT OF MY WAY," Wanda roared.

A voice cleared its throat.

"Miss Maximoff, I can't let you in right now," Helen said in a crisp, business-like voice. "We're in the middle of surgery. We know you're worried about your brother, but we're taking care of this right now. Please trust us to take care of him."

There was the sound of Wanda releasing a shaky breath.

"Is he… is he going to die?" she said very quietly.

Anya's heart plummeted. She hadn't even considered that concept - that Jamie and Helen wouldn't be able to help Pietro. What if he died of blood loss? That was a serious amount of bullet wounds; there had been so much blood. She'd never gotten squeamish at the sight of blood, but his blood made her reel in horror.

What if Pietro died? What would she say to Wanda? Oh, good to see you again, and by the way, I'm sorry your brother died when I was napping like a newborn baby.

Anya cursed, standing, ready to sprint into the surgery room.

"He'll live," Helen said. There was a smile in her voice; she sounded even more tired than Alek, if that were possible, but there was a hint of genuine relief in her voice. "With time and help, at least. I'm using the technology I've invented to make sure his flesh grows back. And we've taken out almost all the bullets. Actually, there's someone whose hands are more precise when it comes to surgery, but she's not an authorized member of this hospital and the doctor refused to let her help because she had a… breakdown."

Her voice grew sly, as if Helen knew that Anya was listening.

"I suppose he'll let her in if she knocks on the door and greets him with her expressionless business face, with a new, ah, ready attitude."

Anya felt a grin grow on her face. Pietro wasn't going to die - and Helen trusted that she would be able to help with the surgery.

Her heart thudded in her chest as Wanda's footsteps faded into silence, and with a burst of white light, she skidded to a stop in front of the surgery room door.

Clearing her throat and composing herself, Anya raised her hand and tapped the door crisply.

Jamie opened the door, his eyebrows rising when he looked down at her face.

"I'm sorry for my breakdown," she said in a clear, loud voice. "I took a nap and now I'm feeling better. Please let me help you in the operation."

"Well," Jamie began, but Helen cut him off.

"Oh, shut up, Bennett," she said, grinning. "Anya's never failed to complete an operation before. And besides, you need help. With only me and Alek as your helpers, this man will never recover fully. You know that Anya's got talent."

"It's not talent," Jamie grumbled. "It's instinct and eye for detail."

Helen gave him the evil eye and he gave up, sighing.

"I guess I could do with another pair of hands," he muttered. "Fine, come in. But you better work fast - the patient's been unconscious for a very long while now, and Alek's examination of his heart rate shows that his pulse is beginning to slow down."