There's a little bit of Polish in this translations are at the end. Enjoy!

The sporadic gunshots echoing through the hallway abruptly cease as everyone down the line stops to look around at Wanda's ear-piercing shriek.

Nothing feels real to him. Fitz is stunned, barely registering that anyone has noticed the commotion as he stares down at Hanna. Everything has a quality of unreality to it, and each new event adds to the feeling. Did he really just shoot Wanda with the modified ICER? Did she just try to kill him with red energy arcing from her fingertips? Did Hanna just get shot in the head? Is she actually dead? He looks down to see that he's still holding her by the wrist even as he clutches the ICER so tightly in his other hand that his knuckles are white. He loosens his grip on the gun, then lets go and watches Hanna's hand fall limply to the concrete floor.

Bobbi and Hunter, keeping low, are already headed over to him. Wanda is still sitting on her knees, gazing at her hands in astonishment when she sees them closing in. He expects some feeble attempt to get away, but, instead, she hovers protectively over her sister's body. She grasps onto a lax shoulder and glares menacingly.

"What happened?" Bobbi asks, training her pistol on Wanda but making no attempt to otherwise subdue her.

Fitz registers being spoken to on some level but he's still unable to tear his eyes away from Hanna—her pale skin, now even paler. She's really dead, he thinks. Some of the time they'd spent together flashes briefly through his mind. Laughing—he remembers her laughing quite a lot, usually at him. Touching—she'd touched him and shown him affection in ways he'd longed for without even really knowing it. She'd made him feel important, loved. And despite everything—Hydra, lies, all of it—he's forced to admit that he'd been happy. Or, at least, happier. She'd done that for him and now she's just...dead. It isn't fair. He didn't save her. He remembers telling her everything would be okay. And, though he hadn't meant to, he'd lied.

He feels Hunter's hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Hey. What's goin' on, mate?"

Fitz tries to shake off his daze, he holds up his ICER to his teammates, and says, "I got her with this. Her power is gone." He looks at her, still crouching almost ferally, clutching at her sister. "This is Hanna's sister, Wanda." He looks back to Hunter and a blur of tears begins to cloud his vision but, with some effort, he blinks them back. "Hanna's dead."

Bobbi nods and pulls some restrains from a zippered pocket but doesn't put them on yet. She just stays by the girl with a sympathetic look that Fitz is surprised to see.

Wanda looks from one of them to the other, seeming to realize that they're not going to arrest her or drag her away from her sister just yet, her face softens. She looks to her sister, moves the sweat-soaked hair from her brow and lays a hand on her cheek. Her sluggish flow of tears quickly increases to swift torrents that slide down over her cheeks and drip from her jaw until she's sobbing and her breath hitches worryingly in her throat. Fitz only looks at her helplessly, knowing there's nothing he can do because he wants to do the same. But there's no time, he can't give in to it. His eyes feel grainy and he presses his fingers to them as if he can physically staunch the surge.

A sudden, unexpected barrage of bullets flies at them, bouncing off the storage crates and floors. He doesn't even flinch at first, still too shocked to react. The impacts send chips of concrete flying through the air. Everyone ducks, but Fitz is too slow, and one catches him just below the eye. He feels a little stream if blood run down his cheek and wipes at it with his sleeve. The cloth comes away crimson and he realizes it's not just his blood—it's Hanna's as well. Tears spring to his eyes and he bites the inside of his cheek to help stifle the urge to cry that's nearly overwhelming him.

The new wave of gunfire dies down somewhat and Hunter looks down at Hanna's body almost regretfully. Then he says, "I really talked some shit about 'er after she came out as Hydra. I think, well, I think I'm a bit sorry now."

"You should be, you bastard," Hanna says, eyes popping open, as she sits up and wipes the blood and sweat from her cheek. She's dripping with perspiration as if she's run a marathon. She spits into her hand and, between her fingers, holds up a mangled bullet still smeared with gore.

"Bloody hell!" Hunter cries. "Hanna!" Fitz says a half-second later only because he's dumbstruck until Hunter's outcry seems to wake him from the stupor.

"You should really think before you speak. Didn't your mother teach you that?" Hanna asks Hunter drily.

Hunter laughs, recovering quickly, but Fitz just stares at her gaping.

"Ania!" Wanda cries, wiping the tears from her face. "Myślałam, że nie żyjesz!"

Ignoring Fitz's confused and questioning look, Hanna gets to her knees, then turns to put her arms around her sister. "Wanda! Nic ci nie jest? Zranił cię?" Pushing her back, Hanna's tone is fierce, as she adds, "You don't have to help him anymore! We're free of him now!" But her sister is shaking her head like she doesn't believe it.

"He still has Tatuś," she says and her eyes fill up with tears again. "Strucker gave him the treatment. He wouldn't cooperate with them. He…" She looks to the floor, shaking her head slowly when tears spring to her eyes and begin to slide down her cheeks once more. "He called us cowards, Ania. Me and Peter."

Ignoring Wanda's emotional confession in favor of the news more relevant to the situation at hand, her brows tense with disbelief, Hanna asks, "Strucker brainwashed him? But, why? I thought he was Hydra already?"

Wanda shakes her head firmly. "He was trying to infiltrate them so he could sabotage them from the inside."

"He told you this?" But Hanna still sounds skeptical.

Wanda nods. "Strucker let us see him once—as incentive. They had him in a special prison where no metal was allowed. He told us that Hydra was true evil and he couldn't just do nothing. He said that's why he left Mama—so all of us would be safe. Strucker used him, experimented on him, once he'd discovered his attempts to weaken them from within. He had already been through the mist some time ago. He was the first successful test subject and that's how Strucker knew to use us for his experiments. He believed it was genetic." It seemed Strucker's supposition was correct, Fitz thought.

Hanna seems to be suppressing tears as she turns to Bobbi. "Please, tell Coulson that it's not my father's fault! He's not in control of his actions."

Bobbi and Hunter exchange a look and, without a word, he crouches low and heads back to Coulson's position to give him the update.

A bullet pings off the wall to Fitz's left and he breathes in the smell of concrete dust as it floats down from the new hole left in its wake. He still feels near tears though he can't think why now that Hanna seems okay.

She finally turns to him and, with her eyes cast low, says, "I'm sorry."

The moment the words leave her mouth, it's like she's brought him instantly back from his paralytic state. He doesn't think, he just takes her by the waist and pulls her to him fiercely. She's stiff in his arms at first but quickly relaxes into his hold as he crushes her against him, even finally slipping her arms up onto his shoulders. But his relief that she's alright is rapidly overwhelmed by his need to know what'd happened.

He leans away from her but still maintains a grip on her arms. "What the bloody hell was that?" he shouts, his left-over anxiety spilling out on her now that it has nowhere left to go. Hanna's eyes grow wide and even a touch angry. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "I, er, I mean, what happened?"

"I'm sorry I scared you, but I had to let you believe I was dead. Wanda can read thoughts and she never would've come if she knew I was alive from your mind. She had to be neutralized." She reaches back and clasps her sister's hand. "She had to know that we're free now. S.H.I.E.L.D. will eliminate Strucker and we'll be free." The smile she gives him then is so optimistic, so full of belief in them, that Fitz finds himself pained by it. He only hopes it ends up being that simple.

He's still holding her by the arms and he uses his grip to pull her back in for one more quick embrace. "Okay. Yeah, I understand. I'm sorry that I yelled."

She pulls back, cupping his cheek. "Don't be sorry. It worked. I'm fine. No one got hurt. It would take a lot more bullets than that to kill me." She notices the cut under his eye, running her thumb beneath it, and adds, "You're hurt. Is it alright? Can I?" He nods, realizing she means to heal his cut.

She closes her eyes and immediately grimaces, struggling, it seems, even with his small cut. The sheen of perspiration reappears almost immediately. For just a moment, he thinks he hears something odd. It's like a voice but it's too insubstantial to hear well. He almost makes sense of it, then Hanna lets out a sharp breath, and says, "There."

When she opens her eyes, he looks into their impossibly green depths, wondering if he really heard something or if it's all just in his imagination. Bobbi clears her throat loudly and he lets Hanna's arms go just as she lets her hand slip from his cheek, both their gazes flitting awkwardly from each other to the floor and back again. He reaches up and touches the now-healed cut. He even touches his chin, realizing she'd healed that along with his other injuries from his fall. His hip and shoulder are no longer aching either now. He smiles gratefully and her lips curve almost shyly in return.

With a final almost regretful twist of her lips, Hanna turns and hugs her sister again. As he turns to survey the idling battle, hearing the sisters talking in a low whisper alternating freely between Polish and English. Then, as he catching sight of Hunter making his way back from Coulson's side, he just catches Wanda asking, "Is that your boyfriend?"

Fitz feels a blush tinging his ears until he hears Hanna's reply, "Don't be silly, Wandzia."

Before Fitz has too long to think on that, Bobbi nudges him and whispers, "We should get Wanda out of here. She's vulnerable in the middle of all this without her power. Do we even know if she's safe from the Splinter bombs when her power is suppressed?"

He's stunned to realize he has no idea if Simmons has even tested that concept. He also can't deny Wanda's vulnerability now, but he hates the idea of separating Hanna from her. And he's not sure anywhere is safe. He shakes his head. "I don't know about the Splinter bombs. Is there a safe place for her? You're not plannin' to put her in holdin' are you?"

"I don't know," Bobbi admits pensively. "I just don't want to see her get hurt, I guess."

Bobbi's eyes go to Hunter, who's nearly made his way back to them. Only a few feet away, a dendrotoxin grenade lands beside him. It's already screaming a warning that it will soon detonate. At his wide-eyed paralysis, Bobbi leaps to her feet, turns, and, just as it goes off, gives it a swift kick toward the back of the line where there isn't anyone to be harmed by it.

"Thanks, Bob," Hunter says, reaching out, "You're the best."

Fitz hears the loud crack a fraction before the bullet rips through her shoulder from behind. Everything seems in slow motion as Fitz watches horrified as it exits and cuts across Hunter's side. Even as Hunter tries to reach for her, Bobbi falls face forward onto the hard concrete with a sickening crack.

"NO!" Hunter screams, seemingly oblivious to his own injury though Fitz can see his shirt blooming red. "No, Bob!" He goes to his knees and drags her behind a stack of crates. "No. Come on. Come on." Fitz can't tell how bad it is from where he is, Hunter is blocking much of his view. He looks to Hanna who has an expression of utter shock on her face." Bob, Bob, Bob. Stay with me. Stay with me. Bobbi. Stay with me. Please, please. I've got you." Hunter looks around and spots Hanna. "Help her, please!"

Another flurry of bullets begins to land near them as Hanna peeks around the crates she's sharing with him and Wanda for cover.

"Give me your rifle," Fitz calls to Hunter and he slides it over unthinkingly. Fitz tucks the ICER into his belt again and grabs up the rifle. He's a fair shot with a pistol but an appalling shot with all the kick from a carbine, somehow he doesn't think it'll matter much. He leans around the crate and fires off a few sprays of bullets at the Hydra agents, trying to force them to take cover.

The fire from the Hydra side peters out and finally stops. Hanna instantly makes a break for the other stack of crates. Fitz sprays again but then he sees him: von Strucker. He stands and takes aim as casually as if he were in a spring meadow instead of in the middle of a battle field. He has a high-powered sniper rifle and, despite the fact that Fitz is sure he hits him with several shots at least, Strucker seems oblivious as he trains his rifle on Hanna and fires.

He hears each shot and Hanna's corresponding cry of pain as every one of the bullet rips through her body and comes out the other side. Even as he keeps firing at Strucker to no avail, he can hear the resounding crack of each of the armor piercing rounds being launched at her. He counts. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. They all tear gruesome holes in her flesh. She falls but crawls on as the bullets continue to land their marks. Some go right through her graphene vest before she's finally close enough for Hunter to pull her behind the meager cover of the stack of crates.

"Are you alright?!" Fitz calls, feeling like an idiot. How could she be? She just got shot five times! "Is Bobbi alright?! Hunter?"

"You're not...an idiot! And I will be...but I can't heal Bobbi now. I've used too much energy already and...now I have to heal these," Hanna calls back weakly. He cringes inwardly at the reminder that she can hear what he's thinking. "Maybe I can stabilize her a little. Here, let me put some pressure on your wound first," he hears her say to Hunter, along with the sound of ripping fabric. "Then you can try to get her to Simmons."

"It's just a graze! Please, do whatever you can," Hunter replies. The raw worry and pleading in the other man's voice reminds him of Simmons for a moment but he quickly pushes the thought aside. He definitely shouldn't think of that now.

He hears something behind him, a small sound, but it instantly gets his guard up. He turns to face the connecting hallway where they'd come down after they'd nearly been rolled under the Bus, literally. He aims Hunter's rifle and calls, "Who's there? I can hear you!"

"It's May," she calls back. "Good ears, Fitz." His eyebrows shoot up. Had May just complimented him? He shakes it off as she adds, "They broke through our line, they're going to be coming up behind us any time. We've got twenty, maybe thirty minutes while they figure out the layout then gather their troops and supplies for a rear assault. We're going to be sitting ducks in this shooting gallery."

"Are we fallin' back?" he asks, feeling like an idiot again in the silence that follows. With comms completely down—thanks to Hydra's opening gambit—Coulson doesn't even know they've broken through, much less made a plan to deal with it.

"We're coming in, cover us," she calls.

"NO!" he hollers back in a panic. "Strucker is over there with a sniper rifle. Don't risk it. I'll give Coulson the update."

"You go," May calls back. "We'll still come. Just in case. Get those mercs to start laying down some cover fire as you go."

Fitz doesn't like the sound of her 'just in case' but he can hardly object to her plan. She is his superior. "Alright, Agent May. I'm going…now." He keeps low and harshly orders all the mercs to lay down cover fire as he goes. He doesn't know if it's Strucker or not but someone takes a potshot at him that whizzes past his right shoulder and pings off a crate behind him.

Just as Coulson becomes visible, he feels like the wind is knocked out of him as a bullet hits him square in the chest. He has a fraction of a second to think: at least it isn't my head this time before he lands on his arse with Hunter's gun clattering to the concrete floor. For a moment, the pain is so great he thinks Strucker has left a gaping hole in his chest right through his armor. Then, an excruciating burning ache, the likes of which he's never experienced before, spreads through his chest. And when he looks down, he sees that his EM shield is obliterated, bits of it are hanging from the catches. However, the graphene had done its job against the, apparently, ordinary bullet from a Hydra agent's rifle. He was going to have a hell of a bruise though. He grits his teeth against the slowly fading pain and scrabbles for Hunter's rifle. When he finally reaches Coulson, he's amazed at still being alive and virtually unscathed.

"Sir, Agent May is back. She said they broke through her line and they'll be behind us in less than 30 minutes. We'll be trapped in here between them. Are we fallin' back, sir?"

"If we fall back, we'll lose the base," Coulson says with a tense sigh. "What we really need is a way back into the hangar so we have more open ground or at least an escape route. We're outnumbered and they'll just keep trapping us in here." He seems to be contemplating, trying to work out what to do. So, Fitz says nothing, just letting him think. "I just don't know," he finally says. "They've cut off our escape routes. If we let them push us in deeper, they'll just slowly exterminate us like ants. They'll cut us down in their crossfire. We have to push ahead or we're dead."

Fitz swallows with a gulp. "I don't see how we're goin' to do that, sir," he says. "Not with all the men they've got ahead of us." Then he has a thought that he knows Coulson won't welcome but it may be their only hope. "What about Skye?"

Coulson looks shocked. "She can't break through. She's never done anything this big."

"She's all we have though, sir," he says, feeling a bit sorry for him. He knows how protective Coulson is of Skye. But they're all dead anyway without her help.

"Okay, get her." Coulson sounds anything but happy as he says it. "She went to check on Simmons awhile ago."

"Right," he says. Of course, he thinks.

"Cover him," Coulson calls out to the agents and mercs in the vicinity. As the sound of gunfire starts up, Coulson reaches out and briefly clasps his forearm, and says, "Good luck, Agent Fitz."

"Thank you, sir," he replies, but thinks he might've been drowned out in the cacophony.

He rocks from his knee to his feet and tries to stay out of the line of sight as much as possible as he heads back the way he'd come. He finds it much simpler to head away from the front of the line than he had heading toward it. At least, mentally. He hears a fair few more bullets whiz past but none make contact this time.

Agent May is graceful, even huddled up next to the crates as she waits with Wanda. Though she certainly looks a bit worse for wear. Her face is covered with grime and there's blood running down her temple from a cut on her forehead.

"Coulson's been briefed and he wants me to get Skye from the lab. He wants to go through their line back into the hangar," he tells her confidentially.

She nods. "He's sure Skye can do it?"

"I don't think we're sure of anythin' at this point. But we don't have a lot of options," he says honestly.

"Okay, go," she says. "Hunter took Bobbi to the lab right after you left."

"Where's Hanna?" he asks, looking toward the crate on the other side of the wide hallway.

"I'm okay," she calls out. "I'll go with you. I need to. And I also need to talk to you."

The battle rages for a moment and then calms. In the lull, he nods to May and then rushes across to Hanna. She's laying on the floor, her face a sweat-soaked mess, her hair sodden with it.

"You're not okay," he says automatically, reaching down to pull a strand of hair away that's gotten stuck to her skin just below her lip. He brushes at the sticky skin of her brow, moving the wet hair back from her forehead. He looks down and sees that there's still blood that seems to be seeping from beneath her ruined vest. "You can't heal yourself?"

"I'm tired," she says. "Normally, I'd rest, eat but I don't have time."

"You helped Bobbi even though you might've killed yourself," he states.

"Don't be so dramatic," she says, and tries to smile but it only comes off as a grimace of pain.

"Can you even make it?" he asks. He's not sure he can afford to drag her along if she's not able to walk on her own.

"Just a minute," she says. He watches as she closes her eyes. Her forehead is creased with extreme concentration and her mouth is pursed tightly with mental strain that appears so great he can't quite fathom it.

Large droplets of perspiration rise up and begin to run in rivers down her face, rolling off and dripping onto the concrete floor. The skin of her arms grows slick and shiny as he watches. She starts to whimper and groan lightly and unsure if he can touch her during the process, he just holds his hand over hers and waits. Finally, she cries out and releases a large breath before she begins to pant heavily. The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

Her eyes open and she says, "I can walk now." But he's never seen her look so exhausted. There are large dark circles beneath her eyes and her lids seem to droop as if she's near to falling asleep. "Help me up?" she asks tentatively.

He helps her to her knees, feeling uncertain still, as she lifts her ruined graphene vest over her head gingerly and tosses it aside. When she nods, he calls to May, "We're goin' now. Cover us!"

When the gunfire from their side reaches a fever pitch, he helps Hanna up and they race to the adjoining hallway where they can head to the lab by the quickest possible route.

"What do you need to speak to me about?" he asks, curious and unable to wait for her to begin the conversation.

"About hearing what you're thinking," she says. "I think Simmons' formula has done something to me. Changed me. I'm not sure but I could only hear you in the hallway when we first realized but as my powers fully returned, now I know that I can hear Wanda and Peter, too. I'm getting glimmers of my father but his mind is…damaged, I think."

"Maybe…maybe you need a personal connection with whoever—"

"I thought of that," she interrupts, giving him a significant look, "But I can hear Skye, too." When he just stares at her, trying to grasp all the implications, she finishes, "And Coulson."

But, he thinks, they all have Kree blood. I don't have that.

"Maybe you do," she says. He just stares at her with, what he assumes is, the most stunned look imaginable. Looking away embarrassedly from his shocked, confused face, she goes on to say, "This isn't the first time I've heard your thoughts. It was different before though. I thought it was just that your emotions were so strong but…now, I don't know."

"I'm not…Inhuman, am I?" he asks with wonder.

She shrugs. "I don't know. But you're something different that usual."

Suddenly, they hear boot steps. They're getting closer as a squad of Hydra agents scout the base. He pushes her through the next door, pulling it carefully shut behind them. He motions toward the desk on the other side and they both crawl under as the squad gets closer and closer.

His mind is still reeling with the implication that he might be something more than human but his fear takes over when the squad passes right outside the door. He'd locked it, though he hadn't actually expected them to check. When one of them jiggles the handle, Hanna grabs his forearm as if she expects them to break down the door and drag them out. He takes her hand and holds it until the shadowy figure on the other side of the frosted glass continues on. She looks near to tears by then and he pulls her into his arms. He feels selfish because he needs the comfort as much as she does.

"You're not selfish," she whispers. "You're just as good as I always thought you were, Fitz. Better. Don't be so hard on yourself. Okay?"

She leans back to search his face and in that moment he sees her as separate from all that's happened—the Hydra plot, the lies she'd been forced to tell to protect her family—he sees her as a caring, compassionate, intelligent, beautiful girl who evidently loves him. He thinks he can see that love in her eyes.

He applies a gentle pressure to her shoulder where he's already holding her and urges her to him. She smiles at him knowingly, hearing his thought, and her eyes full of what he thinks might be hope. When she moves forward, coming willingly into his arms, he brings his lips to hers in a tender, fond kiss. It starts slowly, just their lips playing against each other. It isn't full of passion as their first kiss had been but it isn't lacking in feeling either—it's sweet and full of longing. It's just what he would've wanted their first kiss to be. Her lips begin to move against his more eagerly, opening to him. He sweeps his tongue through her still-familiar lips, tasting the salt of her sweat, feeling the alluring slide of her tongue against his, and he thinks: I could love her. I know I could.

And she pushes him away abruptly.

"No," she says, shaking her head and bringing her knees up to her chest. "I know you still want her. I can hear your heart calling for her."

"Hanna," he begins, ignoring her strange, evocative phrasing, "That is not what I was thinkin' about. I really believe we could try again. When all this is over. I know you probably want—"

"You don't know what I want," she whispers harshly. "You don't want to risk yourself even with the potential for real happiness right there. You're just giving in to temptation now. You like to hear me say you're good—no, worthy—and, as true as that is, you're just afraid. You'd be miserable for fifty years instead of risk her rejecting you again, wouldn't you?"

He's stunned by her words. Not because of how much they hurt, though they do, but because of why they hurt—because they're so entirely true. Every single word is painfully, heart wrenchingly true. "Hanna, I'm sorry," he says, dropping his face into his hands. "I–I don't know what to say."

Her voice softens, all the harshness dropping away, as she says, "I did it, too. I gave in to temptation. I wanted it to be real. I still want you to love me—not her." She drags in a gasping breath. "I can't now, you know? I could never be with you and hear you think how much you wish you loved me. Listen as you berate yourself for not being able to let her go." She shakes her head again. "That would be torture."

"I'm sorry," he says again. Not sure what else there is to say.

"Don't be sorry. Be with her. Be happy. She loves you, too."

"No, she doesn't," he says with a dry chuckle. "Not like that, she told me herself that she doesn't feel anythin' but friendship for me."

Hanna smiles tightly at him for a moment. "There's nothing I can say to convince you, is there?"

"She told me, Hanna. Even if you're right and somewhere deep inside is the capacity for her to want…more between us, consciously she doesn't want that. She told me. Obviously, I have to respect that." He pinches the brigde of his nose to ward off the headache he feels coming on.

She shakes her head a little. "You're a good person, Fitz. Don't forget that. Don't be so hard on yourself either. And…just try to remember that there's a difference between truth and belief. Truth can be revised when new facts come to light, but belief can never be swayed. Not by all the facts in the world. I suggest, as a fellow scientist, that you to seek truth over belief."

"You and your self-help seminar again?" he says with his brows raised in question. He smiles at her tentatively, hoping she might've forgiven him.

"Of course, I do," she says, easily reading his thought. She tugs him against her for a hug. "There's nothing to forgive."

"No," he says against her shoulder. "Don't say there's nothing. There is. Please. Forgive me."

She pulls away to look at him for a moment, her eyes sad. For a moment, he wishes he could read her thoughts as well. Then she puts her head down on his shoulder, resting her cheek there. He feels her fingers stroke over his shoulder, as she says, "Yes. All is forgiven. There's nothing else to forgive now. Everything is settled between us. Agreed?"

He nods, pressing his cheek to her hair. "Yes." He feels relief go through him. So much more than he ever thought possible. Now he only has one person with whom to make amends. He only hopes he lives that long.

"I'm sure they're gone. I can't feel their nastiness anymore," she says, starting to crawl out from under the desk. "We need to hurry now."

"Skye's still in the lab, yeah?" he asks, crawling out behind her.

Her eyes glaze over for a moment in thought, and she says, "Yes." Then her eyes go suddenly wide, and she adds, "So is Agent Simmons."

"What?" he asks, confused. "How can you tell?"

"She's one of us," Hanna says.

Some Polish translations from the chapter:
Wanda says: Myślałam, że nie żyjesz! It means: I thought you were dead!
Hanna replies: Nic ci nie jest? Zranił cię? It means: Are you alright? Did he hurt you?
Hanna calls her: Wandzia, which is just a diminutive form of the name in Polish.

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