"I should've been there," she repeats once more. It's all she can say. It's all she can think. "Together, Wanda and I could've –"

"Stop it," he interrupts sharply. Tessa's lips press tightly together as she looks over at Bucky's blank face. His eyes slowly veer over to meet hers, fatigue and frustration darkening the light blue of his irises. "There was no reason for you to be there," he says with a sigh. "Sometimes missions go sideways. Shit happens."

She gives a firm nod, agreeing that he's right, even as a voice in the back of her head works to convince her otherwise. There was a reason for her to be in Lagos. Maybe it wasn't apparent at the time. Maybe at the time, they all thought that the op was going to be a fairly standard recon mission… just get a bead on Rumlow and his team, see what they're up to, and move on it from there. Maybe there was no reason to think that she would be needed, or could even be of any help.

But now? Seeing the devastation left in the wake of their sideways mission… now, it seems plainly obvious that there had been a reason for Tessa to go along.

She huffs out a frustrated breath, dropping her head to her hands. "We should've still been working," she mutters into her open palms. "We should've still been… training together." She lifts her head and gazes mournfully at him. "Her powers are still so new. I've should've been helping her… hone them. Practice." She rises quickly and begins to clumsily pace the room on her crutches. "I knew… I knew that she still had trouble controlling things when under pressure. She barely has any experience in the field. And that blast," she exclaims, spinning towards him so fast that she nearly knocks herself off balance. "It was too strong. She just didn't have the practice, the experience…"

Bucky continues to sit idly on the sofa, elbows resting heavily on his knees as he watches her pace and fret. "Maybe," he says with a weary shrug. "Doesn't really matter now."

It's pointless to discuss, that's what he's trying to say.

He has his own guilt about the deadly explosion in Lagos. He hadn't gone on the op, was actually barred from going by Steve, who was afraid to let Bucky anywhere near Brock Rumlow. But he'd been part of the debriefs over the last day and a half, knew the story of what happened well enough to know that, whether he'd been there or not, he still played a part. For one thing, Rumlow never would've become this Crossbones mercenary terrorist if it hadn't been for the Winter Soldier's siege in DC. And for another, Steve never would've let the bomb vest Rumlow was wearing go unnoticed had the asshole not started spouting off about being part of his torture machine.

But just because he had inadvertently played a role in the disaster didn't mean he was to blame for it any more than she was for not being able to see into the future to know that she could've helped prevent it.

Tessa's frazzled pacing stops, and she watches – concern in her eyes – as he falls back into the couch with a deflated sigh. "Why don't you stay here?" she offers, voice calm and soft.

He raises a questioning brow. "I don't know," he mutters, tone hesitant. He'd taken her to every session with Xavier for the past couple of months. Every Saturday morning, they'd ridden side by side in utter silence to the school, parting ways at the door – her heading into the Professor's study, him being lured away to whatever activity her family had planned.

He had made a guest appearance for Kitty's class, fielding questions about what it was like to live through the Great Depression and to fight in World War II. And to grow up without the internet. He had spent one Saturday, rather reluctantly, helping Logan rebuild and restore a 1941 Indian Scout bike. "This is probably the nicest thing you'll ever lay your grimy hands on," the Wolverine had told him harshly. "You break anything, I'll break your neck." And he had whiled away hours with Storm and others going over the info they had accumulated on Lobe and his people, limited though it was.

If he were to be completely honest, well, it was kind of a lot. Through every visit he'd been regaled with stories and memories of Tessa – Nova, Anna. And he's grateful for it. In just those handful of visits with her family and friends, he had learned more about her past than in their nearly three years together.

He now knows, for example, that though she'd always been a brilliant student, she was also a real button pusher, prone to challenging the dictates of every teacher she'd ever had. She talked back in class, interrupted lessons to offer her superior two cents, and earned her fair share of detentions along the way. But she also came to her teachers – her family members and teammates – after nearly every incident with tears in her eyes and a sincere apology on her lips.

He also knows that she stole her brother's motorcycle and ran away from home four different times. She dated someone named John who caught her bed on fire one night in the heat of passion – a tale that has since reached legend status among the students at Xavier's. He knows that, as good as she was at getting herself into trouble – and according to the X-Men, she was quite good at that – her most favorite thing to do was to sit quietly in the giant lab downstairs and listen to Hank McCoy lecture as he demonstrated for her the work that would one day become her passion.

Yes, he is grateful to know all of these things. But it's hard to hear about the woman he loves – the woman he, up until a few months ago, thought he knew better than anyone – from strangers. Truth be told, it makes him feel like she is a stranger.

But he has to go with her to her session today. No matter how uncomfortable it might make him, he has to go. That's the deal they made. They're in this together.

She flops heavily onto the couch beside him and lays her head on his shoulder. "You've got your hands full here," she mutters softly, reaching out to twine her fingers with his. "Really. You should stay."

It's true, he does have his plate full. Now that the Avengers' debriefing on Lagos is over and done, it's time to sit down with the support team and run mission reports with them. Even just last night's prep for those run-throughs bled well into the early morning hours, preventing him from getting any more than a few hours of sleep. He runs a tired hand over his face, reluctance still biting at his core. "You can't drive yourself," he tells her simply.

She leans away from him and rolls her eyes dramatically. "I can, actually." He gives her an impatient look and she releases a tired sigh of her own. "Wanda," she states definitively, earning her a confused grimace from the man by her side. She shifts beside him, her brows pulling together in a troubled countenance. "She's… struggling. I think… I think it might be good for her to talk to someone like her. Or several someones." She smiles lightly at him, cocking her a head a bit as she says, "And she can drive me."

A thoughtful look takes over his face, his expression slowly shifting from uncertain to… admiring. "Maybe that's not such a bad idea," he utters, light eyes shining with pride as he mirrors her grin.

000

The mansion's kitchen alone is a sight to behold. Sprawling granite countertops, pristine hardwood floors, an entire wall of windows affording a view of the massive green grounds outside. Even the dining set that they sit at is crafted from an expensive-looking dark oak, thick and grand and intricately carved. Wanda can't help but wonder if children really do live here. Between the immaculate gardens they passed on the way in, the large, uncluttered foyer they entered, and now this Tony Stark-level dream kitchen, it certainly doesn't look like a place inhabited by dozens of careless and sticky little kids.

Tessa clears her throat beside Wanda at the table, pulling the young woman from her reverie. "When I was sixteen," she starts, her eyes flicking wildly back and forth between Storm and Bobby. "I tried to drop a guy in the field." She turns her gaze to Wanda, who's sitting uncomfortably straight and still as she listens intently. "I'd done it dozens of times before – pull just enough energy out of someone that they lose consciousness."

"She did it to me twice," Bobby interjects with a smug smirk.

Tessa scoffs, glaring at him as he looms across the room. "You deserved it."

He shakes his head lamentingly. "Hell of a headache."

"The point," Storm interrupts gently, "is that Tessa knew what she was doing then. She knew how her powers worked, how to control them. And yet, that time…"

"That time, I killed a man," she says pointedly. Wanda's shoulders slump forward as she flashes a stricken look. "Just… wiggled my fingers," Tessa explains, raising her hand and jiggling her digits in front of her. "And killed a man."

"Was that…" the young woman begins, stumbling a bit as she processes the story. "Was he…"

"Bad?" she finishes. Wanda nods, pressing her lips firmly together as she waits on the reply. Tessa shakes her head. "No. He was a security guard. New to the job. Not much older than you. We had to get into the building where he worked, and it was my job to take him out… put him to sleep." She shrugs blithely. "I screwed up, and he paid the price."

Storm looks at Tessa with placating eyes. "It was an accident. A terrible accident," she corrects.

Wanda's brows knit together as she looks into Tessa's steadfast gaze. "Did you… was that… a memory that was hidden?" she asks, a bit unsure how to ask such an odd question. Was that one of the things that your Professor friend made you forget when he built a wall in your head to keep you from knowing who you truly are?

She shakes her head briefly. Then, forehead crinkling in confusion, she says, "Not sure why he left that one in there, actually."

Storm leans back in her seat at the wide kitchen table. "Because the tragedies make us who we are just as much as the victories. More so, really." She looks over at Wanda, her eyes soft and full of tenderness. "I know things are hard right now. I know that it feels like… like the world thinks you're a monster."

A small breath escapes the young woman as she gingerly ducks her head, averting her gaze. Tessa reaches her hand beneath the table and takes hold of Wanda's fingers. "They're wrong," she tells her in no uncertain terms.

Bobby unfurls his arms from over his chest, and pushes off the wall in the corner where he'd been standing. "It's easy for people to see us as monsters. When a normal person loses control in the heat of the moment, maybe they say something they shouldn't, break a vase, punch someone in the nose, wreck their car. We lose control, and people die. Sometimes just one," he says looking over at Tessa before turning his kind eyes back to Wanda. "Sometimes dozens or more."

Tessa gives her hand a quick squeeze under the table, brining her attention back to her. "You saved Steve's life. And the lives of all the people on the ground around them. What you did… it wasn't malicious." She stares deeply into Wanda's eyes, her gaze penetrating and determined. "You never intended to hurt anyone."

"But I did," she admits shyly.

"And you'll have to live with that," Storm tells her. "Just like we all do."

Wanda pulls in a sharp breath, her mouth parting as though she's about to speak, but no words come out. Tessa feels a dark, sad energy wash over her and it sends a sudden wave of nausea through her body. She releases her hand and rises quickly from the table, eager to get out of the room before Wanda's unconfronted feelings cause her to puke in front of everyone. "I should find the Professor," she utters, looking down at Wanda. "I won't be too long. But…" Her eyes travel over to Storm, the resolute sharpness in them silently dictating that she take care of her friend.

Storm reaches out and pats Wanda's other hand as it sits on the table in front of her. "We can talk," she says with a smile. "We should talk."

"Okay," Wanda says, nodding slowly. "Thank you. I… I think I'd like that."

Tessa leaves the kitchen as fast as her crutches will carry her, which, granted, is a lot faster these days. She's actually about ready to ditch the damn things entirely, save the times when she has to bounce back and forth between her office and different labs, all oddly positioned at opposite ends of never-ending hallways. But at times like these, when she's just hobbling from one room to another, there hardly seems to be much need for them.

"Is that what your doctor thinks?" Xavier asks with a smirk as she enters his study.

She gives him a reprimanding look before twisting around to shut the door. "Thought we had an agreement," she intones.

He laughs lightly. "You come here so that I can get into your head."

"Only once I say to," she argues, flopping onto the stiff sofa opposite him.

He shrugs. "Your thoughts were nearly deafening. I didn't realize how eager you were to get rid of the crutches."

Her eyes go wide. "Of course I'm eager to get rid of them!" she nearly shouts, her unguarded enthusiasm pulling a smile from the Professor. "I've been their captive for months now. Months."

"Well," he intones, drawing the word out. "There is something we could do… to achieve that." She cocks her head curiously, narrowing her eyes. And again, he releases a small chuckle. "Perhaps you're ready to try pulling some energy for your own purposes?"

She exhales a long, frustrated breath. "I just got finished talking about pulling so much from someone that I killed him. I'm not really in the mood to do more of that right now."

He nods. "Ah, yes. You brought your friend… the enhanced one. I saw the things they've been saying about her on the news." He shakes his head sorrowfully. "It was good of you to bring her here. There's not a person who enters these halls who hasn't been lost, like she is. Sad. Afraid." He sighs, long and drawn out. "Afraid of what they are. And what they may one day become." He turns a gentle, comforting gaze on her. "She's not alone in that fear."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about Wanda's fear right now?"

The Professor had spent the last several weeks working to piece Tessa back together… joining all of the shards of who she once was with the fragments of who she now believes herself to be. It had been an arduous task for both of them, but he had done his best to make it… uncomplicated. Mostly painless.

When she was with him… when he dove inside her mind… it felt like he was simply beginning a conversation, taking her on a stroll down memory lane. He hadn't torn away at her memories or her sense of self, hadn't violently pulled back a curtain to reveal parts of her past she was ill equipped to confront. Rather he delicately plucked bits and pieces of her former self from the depths of her subconscious and placed them into the light so she could see.

The only problem was that, as he had already said multiple times over the course of their sessions, "I can make you see the truth, but only you can accept it as such."

Accept it… That's what caused all the pain.

The sessions themselves weren't difficult at all. But the aftermath – the warring that went on inside of her as her mind worked to make sense of everything he showed her – that was, at times, too much to bear. Since beginning this whole process her migraines had worsened, both in frequency and intensity. And it only rarely occurred immediately following a session, which is why she suspected it was due to what she was putting herself through after the fact and not anything that Xavier had done while in her head. Sometimes it was days later that she'd be struck by the sudden sensation of a storm brewing inside her skull.

She told Bucky it was because she was stressed out at work – so much catching up to do and so little time to do it. She told Tony it was just a side effect of her medication, never revealing just what meds she was even on. She told Natasha she might be allergic to the cat. She told the Professor nothing at all.

But then again, she didn't have to tell him anything for understanding to bloom in his gaze.

"I've done all I can," he tells her now, reaching out and pulling her hand into his. Tessa lets out a mighty sigh before turning her distracted gaze back to the man in front of her. "The rest is up to you, my dear," he tells her with a soft, encouraging smile. "These memories are yours. You must accept them as such."

She nods, a forlorn glean to her eye. "I know. It's just…" The nod stops suddenly and her head begins to whip side to side instead. "I can't."

Xavier tilts his head to the side as he studies her… this woman before him, this child he can still see running through the halls with a ponytail full of dark curls bouncing behind her. "Have you seen the things I've shown you?" he asks, the tenor of his voice dropping. She glares at him in annoyance, and he smiles lightly. "If you had paid attention to the things I've shown you – about yourself – then you would know that you absolutely can."

She takes in his words, allowing the silence that follows to punctuate them with a sort of ringing clarity. She had seen what he'd shown her. Everyday, over and over and over again. She'd been thinking about it all. Dreaming about it. Remembering it. But still it somehow all felt so foreign to her. "Some of it," she starts, her brow furrowing as she thinks through exactly what to say. "Some of it is… easy. It feels natural. Just like… remembering. But some…" She lets out a long, pained sigh.

"You're afraid," he states, not even a hint of a question in his words.

She nods simply. "But it's… everything." He raises a brow and gives her a short nod, a command to go on. "I am afraid of who I am. I just told my friend that I killed a man – an innocent man – when I was sixteen." Her countenance darkens as her gaze drops. "And Jean… look what I did to Jean."

He shakes his head slowly. "What happened to Jean… your role in it… none of that was your fault. You did what you had to do." He reaches out and takes her hand in his, squeezes it tightly. "You did what I asked you to do."

She shrugs. "Maybe," she goes on, almost evasively. "But my point is, I am afraid of what my powers make me capable of. Sure. But I'm more afraid of… of… who I am inside." She looks back up at him, her eyes almost pleading as she asks, "Am I a good enough person to be trusted with these powers?"

He very nearly laughs. "Yes, Anna. Yes, you are."

She shakes her head sadly. "I don't know. I'm not so sure."

"This is why you've been so hesitant to use your gifts?" She gives him a perplexed look. "I know that for the last decade – since the wall was built – I know that you've been uncertain about whether you should use even the base powers you were left with. But all of that which was hidden has been given back to you. Each and every lesson, all of the experience you gained… that's all just waiting for you to accept it… to tap back in. All you need to do to use those powers now – all of your accumulated powers – is to trust yourself."

Again, her eyes shift uncomfortably away from his knowing gaze. "What if I do use them… and I'm able to control them… but… What if make the wrong choice?" she mutters, her voice so soft it comes out barely a whisper.

"You are human, my dear. At times, you will make the wrong choice. As do we all." He watches as she pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and begins to nervously gnaw at the tender flesh. "What choice is it that you're grappling with now?" he asks, a confident lilt to his tone.

She looks back at him, only momentarily taken aback by his insight. A sardonic huff escapes her as she realizes quickly that he of all people would be able to see – with no effort at all – that something specific is on her mind. But a deep frown rolls over her face as she realizes that the choice she's most afraid of making right now isn't one she can mention to him at all. Because how can she tell this man who's dedicated his entire life to helping mutants discover who they truly are – and learn to love who they are – that she soon will begin looking for a way to eradicate the gene that makes them all… who they are?

No. She can't say anything about that to him. Not now. Not yet.

Her eyes drift off towards nothing as she instead works to pull at the threads of a certain oh-so-unpleasant memory that had been niggling at the back of her mind for a while now. "I remember," she mutters softly, her thoughts veering back to his earlier suggestion. "I remember Logan being there… when I was bleeding." She glances down at her hands, her wrists, stares long and hard at the pristine flesh, undamaged despite the blade that she remembers dragging across it. All at once, her head flies up so that she can meet Xavier's eyes. "How?" she asks with sudden urgency. "How did I do it?"

"You pulled his energy," he explains simply. "His… life force. And you made it your own." He shifts in his chair, watching her carefully. "Logan could recover from that, of course. Others might not. That is one gift you'd be wise to use sparingly."

She looks away sadly. "So I was able to heal myself by… stealing from him."

He nods.

She gazes ruefully down at her braced leg. "I can't do that again. I wouldn't want to hurt him," she mutters absently.

"No, of course not," he says with a small, crooked smile. "But I do know that Logan is more than willing to help." She glances up at him with a quizzical frown. "He's been asking when we could try after almost every visit."

"Really?" she asks, wrinkling her brow. "He wants me to… drain his life force?"

He laughs heartily, the soft melodic sound causing her lips to curl into a reminiscent smile. "He wants you to be well," he replies. "But I told him we needed to wait until you were ready. For his sake," he finishes with a quirked and teasing brow.

"You think I could kill him?" she asks, tone playful despite the solemn look in her eye.

He releases a long, slow breath. "I'm certain of it," he tells her, nodding somberly. "But I'm also certain, knowing that you have back what you need now, that you are ready to try this. You can do this." He leans back in his chair and gives her a clever grin. "Shall I bring him in?"

Author's Note: Man, after seeing Endgame yesterday, I'm so glad that everyone in this story is behind the times. Butting up against the turmoil of Civil War is nothing compared to what's coming...

Thanks for continuing on this journey with me!