Chapter Ten

AN: Wow, I really wasn't expecting to have to do so much research on the layout of the White House for this...

Pietro slept restlessly. His sister appeared in his dream, though she looked older than the girl he had seen on television years ago. She had aged along with him, though Pietro did not know why he would see her this way in his sleep rather than in the way he had seen her before, as she was as a young girl or as she was when he saw her on television.

The Wanda in his dream was far away and had eyes that glowed red and wisps of a red glow flowing around her. She looked confused and scared. "Pietro?" she called across the abyss that seemed to separate them.

"It is me, sister." He responded.

"You are not dead?" She seemed surprised.

"Should I be?" Pietro asked confused.

"Yes, long ago, when the bomb went off. You left me alone." The surprise that had been in her eyes turned to great sadness.

He began to run toward her, but the abyss between them never seemed to get any smaller, though he felt he was going very fast.

"I still miss you, Pietro," she called as he ran. "I thought the pain would go away and the hole in my chest would close, but it remains the same as the day you and mother and father died."

"I will come find you, sister. I promise I will find you!" But the Wanda in his dream began to fade and he felt himself waking up, though he tried to drag himself back into sleep.

When he had fully woken, he sat up abruptly. The events of the past night seemed like a very strange and yet very realistic dream. He cautiously set his foot down on the ground and took a few steps. He moved at a normal speed. He wasn't sure if this was a relief or a disappointment.

He got dressed and waited for the lock on his bedroom door to time out for the morning. Once he heard the telltale click that meant he was free (or as free as a boy trapped in the Sokovian orphanage could be), he pulled open the door and made his way down to the dining hall.

…

Wanda had a very strange dream that night. She was used to dreams of her brother and her family, but when she saw Pietro in her dreams before, he had always been young, trapped in the boy that had stopped aging even though she continued.

The boy in this dream was much older, he must've been the same age as her. Even though he had the stubble of a beard on his chin and well-developed muscles in his arms, she still recognized the young man as Pietro.

She saw him from such a far distance and when she spoke to him, she had to call out.

When she woke with a start as the dream faded away, she turned to check her alarm clock to find that she still had fifteen minutes until she had to wake up, though she knew sleep would be impossible now.

She got up out of bed and began to change into her school uniform. Her thoughts were distracted with the dream of last night. She tried to think back to her childhood and the explosion in their apartment. It had been so long ago and the thoughts had been buried deep down where they wouldn't hurt as much. It was hard for her to say she remembered exactly what had happened.

For the first time in a long time, she wondered if her brother was really dead.

She quickly ran a brush through her hair and picked up her backpack from where she had left it by her desk. She had promised to eat breakfast with her dad that morning since he was heading out of state that afternoon.

Walters was already sitting at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee. When he saw Wanda walking in, he pulled one of the trays on the table toward him and poured hot chocolate from a carafe into a mug. As Wanda sat down, he slid the mug over to her. "Are you feeling better this morning?" He asked her as she took her first sip.

"Yeah, last night was weird, but I'm feeling much better now." She smiled at him. It was true, despite her strange dream, she wasn't hearing things anymore and she dismissed the events of last evening as a trick of the mind and not enough sleep. "I did have an interesting dream last night, though."

"Oh yeah, what about?" A member of the kitchen staff, Sarah, walked in and set down a plate full of pancakes, half of them chocolate chip and half banana, and a container of syrup.

"Thanks, Sarah," Wanda said before their server had a chance to leave. Sarah nodded, smiled, and stepped out. "It was about my brother, actually." She answered.

The president, who had been reaching for the banana pancakes, froze for a moment before continuing in motion. "Pietro?"

"Yes, but he was the same age as me, not a kid like I usually see him when I dream of him." Wanda usually didn't talk much about her real family with her dad because she could tell it made him uncomfortable, but her dream had been so potent, she felt the need to mention it to someone.

"Interesting," a look of concern passed quickly over his face before he was able to hide it from Wanda.

"Don't worry about it. It was just a strange dream and I wanted to tell someone." She picked up two chocolate chip pancakes for herself and hoped for the conversation to drop, now regretting having brought it up.

"Okay," and Walters did let it drop, mostly because he didn't know what to say. He never knew what to say when Wanda spoke of her brother. It reminded him that he was not as good of a man as he often led himself to believe. It reminded him that the most important relationship with the most important person in his life was based on a huge lie.

They carried on small conversation for the rest of the meal and stood up to leave at the same time. Walters had resolved to walk Wanda to the armored car with her guards to ensure her safety and eradicate the risk of her running from the guards.

As she hugged him goodbye, he suddenly remembered an important bit of information that he had forgotten to share. "Oh, I forgot to mention to you that Ms. Smyth said she would be stopping by today. She'll probably be here when you get home from school."

Wanda froze and pulled away. Despite her best efforts to be rid of Ms. Smyth, the woman had become a member of Walter's trusted cabinet and often liked to make frequent inconvenient visits for seemingly no other reason than to assure Wanda of her power. Wanda's thinly veiled hatred for her was growing less and less veiled every time they saw each other.

"Does she have to come while you're away? I don't exactly think that we're friends."

Walters had noticed the budding emotions between his adoptive daughter and his cabinet member, but always tried to ignore it, hoping that one day they would resolve their differences and trust one another the same way her trusted both of them. "She wanted to see just you. She senses that things are tense and wants to have a little one-on-one girl time. I thought it would be a good idea."

Wanda scowled inwardly at this idea. "Okay, Dad, I'll try to be civil. Have fun on your trip. I'll miss you."

Walters drew her back into the hug and squeezed her tightly. "I'll miss you, too. Be good and stay with your guards."

"Okay, I will." Wanda drew away and headed for the car. The president stood in the driveway and waved goodbye as the vehicle drove away.

…

Pietro couldn't shake the dream from his head, though he told no one about it. He longed to be free and find his sister more than ever now. He went through the motions of completing the day: attending classes, and eating lunch until is came time for his PE class.

PE class was a favorite of the boys in the orphanage. It took place every other day and was not so much a class, as a chance to run outside in the enclosed grounds and loosen their muscles, tight from being stuck in the same place for so long.

The boys had grouped off into their respective age groups and Pietro stood with the older boys as they planned the details of a race that would happen between them. They often raced, usually once a week. Pietro was fast, but he never won. He took third place on most days and second or fourth when he or one of the other boys was tired. Victor, a tall slender boy with a muscular frame always took first and prided himself in this fact. He was the one who organized the weekly races. Though they knew he would win, most of the other boys joined in for the chance to run and the opportunity to show off.

As usual, the group of boys lined up against the wall of the orphanage. They would run to the gate and around the perimeter until they reached the orphanage once more. The distance was only about half a kilometer. Pietro crouched down in position with one foot back against the wall and the other out in front of him.

One of the younger boys, Leo, had come over to watch the race and call the winners at the finish line. He counted down from three and the boys were off. This was a sprint, so Pietro didn't bother pacing himself. He launched off the wall and ahead of every boy except Victor who had already gotten a few feet ahead.

But Pietro felt different today. Though he was running at his usual speed, he felt a push to go faster. He felt his body telling him to go faster, that he could go faster. So even though he felt like he was going his fastest, Pietro pushed himself. He felt something snap in him similar to the way he had felt the night before. Though it was less disorienting this time. The world seemed to slow down around him. He saw Victor running ahead, but he seemed to be going incredibly slow. Pietro passed him.

It seemed as though no time had passed, but Pietro found himself back at the wall of the orphanage. He crashed into it and only then was he able to see the world around him as it had been before. He turned from the wall to see Victor. He was only about 3/4 of the way done and he had a look of shock on his face as his eyes met his competitor's.

As Victor came to the finish, his face changed from a look of shock to a scowl. "You cheated, Pietro." He said.

"I did not, Victor." Pietro moved himself into a more defensive position.

The other boys finished the race and joined Pietro and Victor against the wall. Anton, a small and fiery boy of sixteen, joined in the conversation as soon as he arrived. "You know we do not cheat here, Victor. Pietro beat you and you are just jealous that his speed has finally outdone yours."

"He finished long before me. There is no possible way he ran that fast. It is not natural!" Victor's voice rose in anger. "He must have made a shortcut to reach the finish before us."

The younger boy who had called the race, Leo, spoke quietly from the side. "I watched. Pietro ran fast. He did not cheat."

"That is all then, Victor," Anton said, "Pietro ran faster than you and you lost. The race is over and it is almost time to go inside. You must move on."

Victor stood still in silence for a moment and then moved over to Pietro. With a fluid movement, his hand moved up to slap the other boy in the face. Pietro saw the boy move over in normal speed, but as his hand raised up, everything seemed to move into slow motion. Pietro dodged the attack and Victor ended up hitting his open palm against the wall Pietro had been standing against. Motion returned to normal for Pietro as he watched the boy cringe in pain and hold his sore hand. "What the hell, Pietro!" He yelled.

"It is over, Victor." And as Pietro spoke, the bell that called the boys back inside rang and Pietro and the other boys left Victor behind to walk back to their rooms.

The other orphans ran beside Pietro, congratulating him on his victory against the supposed fastest boy in the orphanage, but Pietro let their praises wash over him. He was lost in thought, contemplating the new speed that his body seemed to be working at. He wondered if he might not have to wait to be 18 to leave the orphanage after all.