Hello all; I at last return! The past week has been awesome but insane, and this chapter required QUIET to hash some things out (something I didn't have much of last weekend...). And then I got sick, which helped nothing. (Just a cold/fever/thing-you-pick-up-when-working-with-kids.) But I finally finished!
This chapter has a quite a bit of set-up for what Bucky's "unconditioning" will consist of, although his actual sessions will be shown in the coming chapters, not this one. Basically, since we don't really know from MCU canon just what Wanda's powers are capable of doing, mentally speaking, I'm mostly making this up as I go along and doing what seems semi-logical. (Of course, none of this is really logical, so...).
Anyway, hope you enjoy.
Chapter Nine
Bucky sat in the private infirmary on a hospital cot, adrenaline thumping through his body. Today was the day he got his replacement prosthetic.
To say he wasn't relieved would be a lie—the past couple weeks had been murder on his center of gravity and made walking a chore—but nervousness was still clawing around in the dark parts of his mind.
With this thing, I could hurt Steve, or Christy, or Sam, or Wanda, or…
"Mr. Barnes?" a voice asked gently.
Bucky snapped out of his mental funk enough to register the newcomer as Dr. Okoye, the man T'Challa had asked to develop his new arm. "Yes, sir?"
The doctor smiled a bit. "Are you ready?"
Bucky sighed. Steve, sitting close (as if he would miss this), nodded. "He's ready."
Giving a return nod, Dr. Okoye opened up a medium-sized metal case, and drew out the new prosthetic. "I thought you might like to see it, before it is attached to your body."
Bucky stared.
The arm…actually looked like an arm. It was painted in a flesh tone that very closely matched his skin, even with tiny replica hair follicles. Best of all was the shoulder part, which contained, as requested, his silver wings.
"It looks so…normal." he whispered finally.
"It is strong." Dr. Okoye replied. "Made of vibranium. Should you ever wish to spar with His Majesty again, you will be able to hold your own." There was a faint twinkle in the doctor's eye. "But it is lighter than your old one was, so it will take you time to get used to the weight. Aside from that…when His Majesty approached me to take on this project, he told me the arm was for a man who had been a soldier far too long, and was now looking for peace. I designed it with that in mind."
Bucky nodded, praying that he didn't start bawling here and now. "Well…what'cha waitin' for, Doc? Might as well get it on me, before anything else goes wrong."
Pessimistic words aside, though, Bucky's heart felt infinitely lighter. This wasn't the arm of a killing machine. This was the arm of a man who had suffered tragedy and emerged stronger.
Steve was surreptitiously glancing up and pulling at the skin near his eyes. Bucky smirked as the techs started to prepare him for surgery. "You gonna lose it on me, punk?"
Steve shook his head. "Dunno what you mean, jerk." he said, attempting a cocky tone and failing miserably. He ditched the act and added, "I'm so happy for ya, pal. It looks great."
Bucky nodded. "I know. Like a normal human being's arm. Not some crazy cyborg." He lay back on the cot and took a deep breath. "You stayin' for this?"
Steve looked almost incensed. "Yes! Of course I am!"
"It's not gonna be a quick surgery." Bucky warned.
"Yeah, I know. But I kinda missed the first one—thought I'd be around for the second and make it up t'ya."
The words were joking, but Steve's tone was doing that borderline guilt thing that Bucky hated.
"It wasn't your fault." he insisted. "We've been over this. Multiple times. It was outta your hands."
Steve nodded jerkily. "I'm still stayin'."
Bucky shut his eyes and grinned. "Hope you brought a Readers Digest, pal."
Steve grinned back. "Jerk…" he mumbled, before sitting back and pulling out his tablet (modern tech did have its uses) and settling in to watch the proceedings.
Clint shouldered his duffel and glanced at Scott. "You ready for this, Lang?"
Scott nodded back. "Oh, oh, yeah; totally ready. Not nervous at all, nope. Not even thinkin' about TSA…"
"TSA?" Clint snorted. "Tasha's pickin' us up, ya idiot. TSA is for suckers."
Scott's eyes bugged comically. "You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?
"Nah…it was fun watchin' ya squirm."
The havoc and upheaval caused by the Raft prison break had finally died down enough that Scott and Clint had deemed it safe to head for their respective homes. Everyone was hanging around the landing bay to see the two of them off except Bucky, who was still recovering from surgery.
"Be good, you two." Steve joked. "I don't want any reports about a rogue archer or a man no one can see."
"Nope, I'm heading back to the homestead and not leaving." Clint stressed. "Ring me up when you all are headed stateside, though. I might be able to hook you up with something."
Steve glanced down. "I've brought enough trouble down on you and your family…"
Clint gave an enormous eye roll and said, "Cap, to quote the immortal words of Nick Fury… 'Trouble...trouble always comes 'round.' I think we can handle anything at this point. And, Laura would skin you alive if she heard you talking like that."
Steve nodded, assenting to the point.
"Start expanding your house, then." Sam said, laughing. "Never know when we might crash in."
Steve handed Scott an envelope. "This is for your ex-wife, and her fiancée. In case they give you any headaches about all this."
Scott turned the item over in his hands. "What…is it?
"Call it a character reference. And an explanation."
Scott shook his head in wonder. "Thanks, man!" he cried, beaming. He tackled Steve in a hug, before the man could process what was happening. "No wonder you're Captain America!"
Clint, meanwhile, was talking with the twins. "Be good, alright? Call once a week; Laura will wanna hear from ya."
Pietro grinned. "Sure. Laura."
Clint gave Pietro a friendly shoulder punch, and then tipped Wanda's chin up. "Good luck." he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "If anyone can do it, you can."
Wanda nodded. "I'll try."
"That's my girl."
Christy hugged Scott and said, "That's for Cassie. And you, but mostly Cassie. Tell her I miss her and I'll bring her back something from Wakanda."
Scott gave a salute. "Can do, Mini-Cap. And skype when you can, alright."
"I will. Be good, Uncle Scott."
Scott sighed. "Seriously, why does everyone act like I'm a flight risk?"
"Because you're impulsive." Sam snarked, giving the man his own handclasp. "Stay classy, tic-tac."
"Back at'cha…feathers?"
"No." Sam replied, face like stone.
"Thought not."
Clint swooped Christy up after finishing with the twins. "Love ya, kid. Be good, huh?"
"I'm always good." Christy said, grinning a little. Clint rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah; I know. Skype us, alright? Save my sanity from being drowned by a thousand questions about how you're doing."
Christy nodded. "I will. Tell Lila and Cooper and Nathaniel that I'll be back sorta soon. And that I miss them."
"Will do, kid."
A day later, Natasha touched down in a very familiar field in Upstate New York. "I'll be back in a day or so." she said to Clint. "I might bring Bruce around for a visit."
Clint nodded. "Sure, sure; the more the merrier. Try not to kill your passenger."
"I'm not that annoying!" Scott protested. "See ya, man." he added, more sincerely.
"Hey, you need anything, call." Clint said, just as serious. "You're one of us now."
A slightly giddy look appeared on Scott's face, but he quickly quashed it. "Thanks."
"No problem. See you then, Tasha."
At that, Clint got out of the plane and started his walk up the long gravel driveway. He'd barely made it halfway before he was assaulted by two whirling dervishes known as Lila and Cooper.
"DAD!"
Clint laughed and wrapped his kids in a hug. "Hey, sweetheart! Hey, bud! Miss me?"
"Duh!" Cooper cried vehemently. "Can we do target practice after you sleep?"
"Not until he sees my drawing!" Lila insisted.
"Alright, alright; make some room! Lady with a baby coming through." Came Laura's voice, along with Nathaniel's squeal of "Dada!" She marched right up to Clint and locked lips with him for a very long moment.
"I'm proud of you." she said first, when they broke away.
Clint shrugged modestly. "Somebody had to do it."
Laura's face grew serious and her voice took a level in sternness. "But you are never allowed to scare me like that again, is that clear?"
Clint sighed and leaned in for another kiss. "Yes, ma'am…"
It was good to be home.
Scott walked up to the door of Maggie and Paxton's house, clutching the envelope Steve had given him like a lifeline.
Call it a character reference. And an explanation.
With Hank and Hope, there had been no trouble. There was no lost love between Hank Pym and anyone named Stark, so he had accepted Scott's story right away. And Hope was mostly just happy that he was safe. (Well, he'd gathered that was what she was trying to express by her rant about his complete idiocy.)
Cassie, of course, would just be happy to see Daddy. But for all intents and purposes (thanks to the news) it looked like Scott Lang had gone back to crime. That wouldn't exactly endear him to Maggie, let alone Paxton
Please don't kick me out… Scott thought. I can explain…I can explain everything! Captain America needed my help!
At least let me see her once…
He rang the doorbell with shaking hands. He'd deliberately chosen a time that Paxton wasn't on duty, figuring he might as well bite the bullet and get this over with.
The door swung open, revealing Paxton on the other side.
"Oh…" he said, brow furrowed. "You're back."
"Y-yeah, I'm back." Scott stuttered. "Listen, Paxton, I can explain…"
Paxton casually leaned out the door and checked up and down the street. "Get in." he said, flicking his hand towards the house.
Stunned, Scott complied. "You're not kicking me out?"
Paxton looked mildly peeved. "I'm not completely heartless, Lang. Cassie's been goin' nuts asking when you'd be home. Also…" he glanced down, seeming almost embarrassed, "The last time I didn't listen to you, a maniac got into my house and threatened my—our—daughter. I figured I'd give you five minutes to explain things this time."
Scott breathed out slowly. "Thank you…you won't regret it, I swear. It doesn't seem like they've linked my name with the Ant-Man persona yet, and…oh, yeah! This is for you." he handed over the envelope. "And Maggie."
Paxton opened the envelope and scanned the letter inside. His eyebrows shot up. "You got a…a character reference from Captain America?"
"Ah…yup. He's…that kind of guy."
"Scott? Is that you?" Came Maggie's voice from the kitchen. It was immediately followed by a loud scream of "Daddy!" as Cassie barreled her way into the living room and crashed into him.
"Peanut!" Scott cried, swinging Cassie up on his shoulder. "I missed you."
"Missed you more." Cassie mumbled. "Did you go fight bad guys?"
Scott sighed, and set Cassie down. "It was a little more complicated than that, peanut. The bad guy…he wasn't tryin' to hurt everybody. Just the Avengers. He had a grudge, see?"
"So who did you actually fight?" Maggie asked, crossing her arms. "They showed on the news some battle at an airport in…Germany?"
"Yeah, Leipzig. Uh…I kinda fought Iron Man. And War Machine. And Black Widow. It was a real mess."
"And…then you got arrested." Maggie clarified.
Scott nodded.
Paxton shook his head. "Arrested on what charge?"
"Uh…they never exactly told us. They just sorta shut us up in some floating, supermax ocean prison."
"Because they got mixed up about what's good and what's bad." Cassie chimed in. "Pietro told me that. On Skype. He said you weren't confused this time."
Scott hugged his daughter closer and made a mental note to thank Pietro, somehow. "That hug's from Christy." he added. "She says she misses you and she'll bring you something next time she sees you."
"So where are they?" Maggie asked, her "mom side" kicking in. She'd only seen Christy over Skype, but the thought of a child caught up in adult squabbles made her uneasy. "At least tell me that poor girl isn't in some godforsaken hole in the ground on the run…"
Scott almost laughed, picturing T'Challa's palace. "Nah, she's safe. Takin' everything as well as could be expected. They're not in a hole in the ground, but that's about all I can tell you."
"Can she call me?" Cassie wanted to know.
"Yup, she can, peanut."
"Alright." Paxton leaned in. "I said I'd give you five minutes. Now what the heck has been going on?"
Scott sat back and sighed. "So apparently…"
A day or so after Clint and Scott's departure, the remaining Rogue Avengers (plus Christy) were sitting around the Common Area when the subject of Bucky's "unconditioning" was brought up.
"Okay," Sam said to Wanda. "Are you and Barnes gonna start this whole 'get the HYDRA programming out of his head or so help me' deal soon?"
Swallowing a smile at the description, Wanda nodded. "Yes. Only…" she looked away. "I haven't exactly been in anyone's mind recently. I…I need to practice."
It was a logical enough request...from a certain point of view. But it wasn't exactly the most conventional of requests, and she felt embarrassed for asking it.
"So…you need a guinea pig." Sam clarified, brow furrowed.
"A what?"
"A test subject." Steve elaborated.
Wanda looked uncomfortable. "That sounds harsh."
"She needs someone to practice on whose brain isn't as screwed up as mine." Bucky summarized. "Someone less volatile."
"You could try it on me." Pietro offered.
Wanda shook her head. "I know you too well."
"What exactly are you trying to do?" Steve asked. "Are you trying to undo a memory, or correct it, or…?"
"I don't know!" Wanda said, looking agitated. "I…when I…before…"
She trailed off and bit her lip.
"When you screwed around in all our heads." Steve said bluntly. "You're forgiven, you know it. Continue."
Wanda swallowed. "I worked with emotion. I traced emotion. Mostly fear and regret. Any memory protected by something else…I did not touch. Could not." She gave Steve a weak grin. "That is why I had no idea about Christy until I came to the Tower. I couldn't see her in your head."
Christy looked thunderstruck. "You couldn't see me?"
Wanda shrugged. "It must have been you. I could hear a child's voice, but I could see nothing. I was driven away."
Christy nodded, impressed. "Well, I mean, it kinda makes sense. Dad would keep me safe any other way. Makes sense he'd do it in his head."
"I did not see Bucky, either." Wanda continued. "I couldn't reach those memories. If I could have…well, perhaps it is just as well I couldn't."
Steve nodded tightly. Wanda had basically shown them all their worst fears or worst regrets, and it didn't take a genius to know what his worst regret was.
"I think you could practice on me."
All five adults turned to stare at Christy.
"Excuse me, is this the same kid that punched someone because that person could possibly get inside her head?" Sam asked, shocked.
Christy huffed and crossed her arms. "Jeez! I wish you'd stop bringing that up! I said I was sorry! Aren't people allowed to change?"
"'Course they are, doll." Bucky soothed. "S'just…it was a little bit of a shock that you offered."
Christy shrugged. "You said she needed somebody less volatile. That's like violent, right?"
"Close." Steve said. "But more like 'unstably violent'."
"Oh. Well, I'm not unstably violent. At least, I don't think I am." Christy looked at Wanda. "Can you help me make a memory stronger?"
Wanda looked solemn. "I can try."
"Okay. 'Cause, it's just…I'm starting to forget stuff from when I was little, and I don't want to. And…I wanna help Uncle Bucky."
Wanda looked at Steve. "She's your child."
Steve looked speculative. "Try it on me, first. That would give you memories more-or-less similar to what's in Bucky's head. If it works, you can do what she's asking. But not before."
Wanda nodded. "That's fair. More than fair."
"I think I have an idea, for how to help you out in locating the programming in my head." Bucky added, taking something out from inside his jacket.
Steve glanced at the item sharply. "Is that what Zemo…?"
"Yeah. T'Challa got it back, and then gave it to me. It's got the words." Bucky scoffed harshly. "The jerk bookmarked the page and everything."
He handed the thin volume over to Wanda, who flipped it open to the correct page. She read over the words silently, shaking her head.
"You read them in order?" she asked.
Buck shrugged glumly. "I guess. They didn't exactly consult me."
"So what do these words say?" Sam questioned, looking over Wanda's shoulder. "I don't read Cyrillic. Or speak Russian."
"Don't read them out loud!" Pietro warned.
Wanda looked slightly annoyed. "I'm not an idiot! Christy, get me a piece of paper and a pen."
Christy scrambled off and returned quickly with the requested items. Wanda bent over the book and started to translate and transcribe the words into English, mouthing the Russian words silently (and out of order).
"One, nine, seventeen; those are easy…" she mused.
"What would numbers have to do with anything?" Pietro asked.
"It could just be a random string of words they conditioned him to respond to." Sam responded. "Probably doesn't mean anything."
"Maybe." Steve said. "Or maybe not. You were born in 1917, Buck."
Bucky nodded, looking tense.
"Longing, rusted, dawn…? No, daybreak." Wanda continued, writing each word carefully in English. "Kind? No, no; benign."
"Benign? Rusted?" Sam repeated, looking skeptical. "You wanna tell me those have some weird hidden meaning?"
"Okay, those are pretty well out of left field." Steve admitted.
"Furnace. And then…" Wanda frowned. "This one is like…look, Pietro."
Pietro glanced at the book. "Homecoming?"
"Yes. But also like…I can't think of the English word. To…make someone in a different country?"
"Relocation?" Sam tried.
"Almost…"
"Repatriation." Steve said grimly. He'd gotten savvy and turned to the internet on his tablet. "Now that could have some meaning."
"What's repatriation mean?" Christy asked.
"It means sending somebody back to their country of origin." Sam said.
"Well they didn't do that!" Christy protested. "They stole him from his country of origin!" She frowned. "I need to upload Zemo's face onto my punching bag."
"Wasn't Zemo that picked the words." Bucky said.
"Eh, he'll work for a stand-in."
That was enough to make everyone laugh a little, despite the situation.
"Last is…freight wagon?" Wanda finished.
There was silence for a moment.
"Freight car." Steve said heavily, anger in his voice. "Freight car."
"They would." Bucky muttered.
"What is so wrong…?" Pietro started.
"I fell off a train." Bucky cut in. "Off a train car. Freight car. Whatever."
More silence. Then, Christy summed up everyone's thoughts with one quiet utterance:
"Stupid HYDRA."
That broke the ice. Bucky looked back at Wanda. "So, I don't know if saying them in Russian, maybe one at a time…maybe it could help you locate whatever triggers the reaction in my brain."
Wanda nodded slowly. "I don't see why not. That would probably work well."
Sam shook his head a bit. They had the beginnings of a plan, but still no structure, which he deemed sort of important for an undertaking like this. "I don't doubt your abilities, Wanda, or your heart…but this whole thing still seems pretty off the wall."
"It's never been done before, sure." Pietro said, springing to his sister's defense. "But that doesn't mean bad. Just different, yes? Like we are different."
Sam nodded, acquiescing to that. "Yeah…I'd say we're pretty different, all right."
"We're Avengers." Christy said, shrugging. "We do everything different."
Minds, Wanda (re)-discovered, were fascinating places.
The first "trial run" session with Steve went fairly well. They sat in his room with the door cracked slightly, while His Highness King T'Challa played Sam in a battle royale chess match in the Common Area, with Bucky and Pietro watching and Christy pretending to. (She lost interest quickly.)
Wanda took a shuddery breath and pulsed the red tendrils through her fingers.
"Hey." Steve said quietly. "It's alright. I trust you."
Wanda looked up with a weak smile. "Last time I was in there," she pointed at Steve's head, "I did not behave myself."
"Well, I'm sure you will now." Steve replied. "You've changed a lot since then."
"I…I think so."
"I know so." Steve nodded firmly. "How about we keep this low-key to start? You're looking at memories, right?"
Wanda nodded.
"I'll show you some highlights…come on in."
And that, that was the part that was different. Before, she had shoved her way in, an uninvited threat. Now…
She pushed forward mentally and found herself observing a city street, lined with tall, broken-looking buildings and some streetlamps. It was an overcast, wintry afternoon.
"Aww, look at the little crybaby! Ya gonna tell yer Ma on us?"
"Leave her alone!"
Like a laser, Wanda was drawn to the scene—three bullying, swaggering boys, a tiny girl, and an only slightly less tiny blond boy.
"Aw, and what are you gonna do, Rogers? Cough on us? G'wan; scram!"
"I said leave her alone!"
One of the boys reached out and shoved the smaller boy, who Wanda had no trouble identifying as little Steve.
They said he was tiny, but Bože moj…
"Fine! We'll leave her alone. One dumb brat's as good as another!"
Another shove. Steve was now in a heap on the ground. The girl had hightailed it down the street.
The boys took their turns with kicks and punches and Steve, though scrappy and fighting back, didn't stand a chance. Wanda began to feel irrationally afraid that he would die.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the girl reappeared, half-dragging a bigger boy behind her. Wanda, shocked, recognized the figure as none other than Bucky Barnes.
"Hey! Get lost! You're so brave; pickin' on a shrimp half your size!"
When it became clear the other boys didn't care a bit, Bucky jumped into the fray. Even the little girl got into the act, pulling coats and trying to trip up the bullies.
Finally, the three boys decided it was not worth their while to keep getting pounded on, and made a break for it. Little Bucky reached down and gave Steve a hand up.
"They're all real losers, and chicken, too…but what'd ya gotta go fight three boys twice your size for, anyway?"
Steve pinched his nose in an attempt to stop it bleeding. "'Cause they were messin' with her!" he said, pointing to the girl.
"That's my sister Becca." Bucky said slowly. "Thanks for stickin' up for her. I'm James Barnes, but nobody calls me James, 'cept Ma when she's mad. My friends call me Bucky."
Steve cocked his head. "Am I your friend?"
"Sure! Why not? What's your name?"
"Steve Rogers…"
The memory tapered off and Wanda backed out mentally for a moment, to look Steve in the face. His eyes were full of bittersweet happiness.
"Did you have a death wish?" she asked, voice full of astonishment.
Steve shrugged. "They were messin' with Becca, when she didn't do nothin' to them." he replied, his accent a bit more pronounced. "I don't like bullies. Didn't then; don't now. But…" he hesitated. "I let you see that one for a reason. That was the first time, but not the last, that Bucky hauled me out of a scrape. Do you understand now…?" his voice trailed off.
Do you understand now why I'm willing to go so far to get him back? Why I opposed 117 nations who wanted him turned in? Why I'm so protective?
"I understand." Wanda said gently. "I have memories like that; me and Pietro. You and him…the world moved on. You have each other to remember your old life, and that is all. You do not have to justify yourself to me."
Steve nodded gratefully. "I…I got some more…"
An hour later, Wanda was convinced that Steve must have had some sort of a death wish, or simply didn't rate his own personal safety as anything particularly important. That seemed to be where Bucky filled in the gap.
But besides figuring that out, she now had a much better grasp on Steve Rogers the man, as opposed to bright, shining Captain America. There were hints of that persona in Steve's actual personality, but the real man was flawed with stubbornness, anger, loneliness, and, above all, a desperate thirst to prove his worth. Conversely, his very real virtues of kindness, honesty, and belief in people's potential shone out all the brighter.
Finally, Wanda felt brave enough to try something.
"I…I want to ask you something." she said hesitantly.
"Shoot." Steve replied.
"Let me see the train."
There was silence.
"Wh-what train?" Steve stuttered out.
Wanda shook her head. "You know what train, Steve. May I see?"
Steve swallowed, his Adam's apple jerking. "Uh…"
"I will see worse with Bucky." she said firmly. "I will not push. But I think I can help."
More silence.
At last, Steve nodded. "Come." he said, barely audible.
Wanda pushed her way in gently, and was immediately blindsided by swirling snow and freezing cold and the sound of a train moving very fast.
"Bucky! Hold on!"
Steve climbed across the front of the train car, inching over to where Bucky hung from the car's side, clutching at a metal bar.
"Grab my hand!"
The bar jerked. And then it broke, sending Bucky tumbling into the icy depths below.
"Ahhhhh!"
Bucky howled, his screams echoing, and suddenly, Wanda felt a backlash of anger and grief and guilt.
Every memory had an aura; a sense of the feelings that were associated with said memory. That was how she had located the Avengers' memories before.
And the guilt associated with this memory was suffocating and raw.
No! Wanda thought, and she pushed back against the tide of emotion. Look! Look at the distance! You were too far apart! The train was slick! It was unfortunate, but not your fault!
It was more than a pep talk. She could feel her power pulse, repelling the oppressive aura of the memory.
Along with the aura always came words; sentences. Beliefs that were unconsciously imbibed, based on what had occurred. And Wanda could hear them now.
WORTHLESSstupidIDIOTcouldn'tstopitcouldn'tstopitSTOPITSTOPITcomebackcomebackcomebackBUCKY! FAILUREFAILUREFAILURE!
STOP! Wanda gave another mental shove. You are not a failure! You are not! You are NOT!
The last word was thought-spoken at what would have been a scream. For a long moment, the heavy aura remained. This was years of lies and emotion that Steve had been carrying, after all.
But she kept speaking the truth. And at last, the aura lightened. There was still grief and anger, but the guilt was a thousand times mitigated.
She backed out mentally and found herself staring into Steve's shocked eyes.
"What…what did you do?" he whispered. "It's…lighter."
"I pushed back…" Wanda murmured. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over her. "I think I need to sleep for a year."
Immediately solicitous, Steve nodded. "This, this was fine. Good practice?"
"For me…yes. I think so. For you?"
Steve blinked…and then gave another slow nod. "I don't know what you did…but I can think about it now, and not feel so…beat down. Like a failure."
Wanda smiled. A response like that was well worth her mental tiredness. "I think you are one of the bravest people I know. I'm…I'm proud to call you my friend."
Steve accepted the compliment with his trademark play-it-off style. "I didn't do nothing that a lot of others wouldn't have as well. I've made my mistakes…"
"And kept going." Wanda finished. "Always, you keep going. For that, you are different than 'a lot of others'. You don't give up." She looked him straight in the eye. "And you are no failure. I don't know who told you that, but they were lying."
Steve gave a quick breath, in and out. "Thanks."
"I mean it." Wanda said, sensing that that belief was tied into more memories than the one she had seen.
I cannot fix all of them…but I can speak the truth until at last the lies break.
As gut-wrenching as that memory had been, though, she knew that whatever was connected to Bucky's trigger words would be worse.
"Could I practice again?" she asked. "Later?"
Steve nodded. "Of course."
Christy sat bolt upright on the couch, her eyes scrunched shut and her legs crossed. "So…what do I do?"
Wanda couldn't help but smile. "Think of a memory. Any memory. This is just practice for me, navigating a mind."
"Okay…" Christy paused. "Got it."
"May I see?" Wanda asked.
"Uh…yeah. Sure. Come in."
Steve was sitting a few feet away, watching the proceedings. He couldn't help but feel immensely proud of his girl. She had come a long way in regards to her opinion on Wanda's powers.
Like before, Wanda pushed her way into Christy's mind, gentle as she could manage. Also like before, she was immediately enveloped in the memory, like a distant observer.
"Christy? Where are you, angel?"
A tall, blonde woman with familiar blue eyes and facial features walked around a couch in a tiny apartment.
"Now, where could she be? Where's my Christy? Could she be in the…closet?!"
The woman spun to the right and threw open the door, revealing Christy, who looked about four or five years old, crouched under the hanging coats of the closet.
"Mommy!" Little Christy squealed.
"There she is!"
"You found me!"
The woman grabbed Christy and picked her up. "Of course I did! I'll always find you. Now, how about you come help me make dinner?"
"Okay! Can we make spaghetti?"
"Sure!"
Wanda was aware that she was physically smiling at all the cuteness. The aura surrounding the memory was good and happy, but the sound and color was faded, like an old movie.
Can I fix this…?
I have to try.
Red tendrils swirled through the memory.
Come back…come back. Wanda willed. Be strengthened. Don't fade away…
Suddenly, Christy gasped. "Mommy…" she whispered.
The colors of the memory were clearer now, the edges of the mental picture less fuzzy. Wanda backed out.
"Better?" she asked.
Christy nodded, but she bit her lip. "Mom…I remember now. She sounded so beautiful. I miss her. I miss having a mom." Her eyes squeezed shut and tears leaked out.
Steve, looking crushed, opened his mouth to speak, but Wanda shook her head. She pulled Christy up against her chest and whispered:
"I can't be her, and I will not try. But come to me…if the missing is too much. Ask me about anything, and I will tell you. Understand?"
"Yeah." Christy said quietly. "And…thanks. However you did it."
Steve quietly mouthed his own thank-you as Wanda rocked Christy back and forth. "No problem, mače." She smiled a bit. "No problem at all."
At last, it was the day of days. At his own insistence, Bucky was strapped down securely (but not harshly) in an oversized, plush black chair, located in a side room of the clinic. Even going one word at a time, he was still nervous. Wanda and Steve sat across from him.
The other insistence Bucky had made was that Steve and only Steve be the one to read the words. Steve had practiced with the twins for at least two hours, getting the pronunciation down right.
"Ready?" Steve asked quietly.
Bucky took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be." He turned his head slightly, catching sight of the wings on his arm. The gleaming silver image gave him courage.
This is good. This will help. I can do this...
"Hey, she's the best in the business." Steve assured, squeezing Wanda's shoulder. "You ready?" he asked her.
Wanda nodded, and started to let the glowing red tendrils flow through her fingers.
"As soon as he says the word, go." Bucky told her, looking tense.
Wanda nodded again. "I will. We can begin?"
Steve glanced down at the word, written phonetically with English letters. "I'm gonna say it."
Here goes nothing…
"Zhelanye…"
I know, I know CLIFFHANGER. But I have to keep you guys reading somehow ;) Besides, that felt like the best place to end the chapter. I think I've figured out that when I try to shove too many things into one chapter, I get bogged down. But you will see the "unconditioning" sessions, probably starting next chapter. If not, then the chapter after that.
Tune in next time for Father's Day cuteness and feels! Since I haven't shown a lot of holidays lately, I wanted to do this one in the ChristyVerse. In the meantime...
Reviews are wonderful things...
