Avengers Headquarters, December 2015
The compound is mostly silent as he wakes up from another dream.
His heart is pounding, and he swears he can still hear the voices in his head telling him what a waste he's always been and to do better.
The nights always become harder around Christmas. It's something about the lights and how he recalls them on the ballroom the day he left his parents behind. And it's something about how he has no good memory around it. He's grown used to it, but not to the way he can't remember what's real and what is not.
Messer breathes in deep and grimaces at the shirt sticking to his skin. His jaw and fists are locked, and he slowly gets up from the bed. There's no way in hell he's still sleeping the rest of the night.
He picks up his phone and sees it's still 3 am, cursing internally at the hour. No sound can be heard from the corridor as he puts on a new shirt, a sport jacket and ties his shoes, getting ready to go downstairs.
His mind is yelling at him to stop, to close his eyes again, but he just can't deal with it. He knows he should, he knows he could go to Nat, but he hates the way she knows she's got a hold in him. So he sucks it up and leaves his room, not bothering to turn on the lights.
It's a cold night. One of the coldest. But not as cold as the cells he'd slept in before.
He shrugs the shivers he's feeling off his body and walks to the gym, turning on the lights and getting ready to work off some energy in the punching bag.
He thinks about how some years had gone by now. And he wonders how long it would take to fully recover from the lapses in his mind. First two Christmas back from Hydra had been chaotic for him. He'd spent most of the time in Shield's hospital and in silence. And then he'd met Natasha and they'd silently decided Christmas just wasn't for them. So it had become a simple day of eating takeout and not caring. She had never given him a gift. He had never given her one back. They just weren't those type of people. And that was ok.
He hissed as a harder unfocused punch scrapped his knuckles.
But what about the Christmas before then? What about his mum holding his hand? Were those memories real? It hurt him thinking that he would never truly understand those images in his head. And above it all, it scared him not knowing. And that one he was not ready to dive into.
He stopped and held the bag, a bit out of breathe. His hands were burning and he knew in a second Natasha would kill him tomorrow, when she saw the state he'd let his hands get in. Sloppy, she'd call him.
He sighed and looked at them, scrapped and hurt, and went for the bandages in the corner, wrapping them lousily and wincing. It wasn't as if he had wanted to do that. He just forgot to first wrap it. He would blame the hour.
- I'm pretty sure that's not how it's done. – he looks up at the voice and sees Wanda leaning on the entrance to the gym. She looks… tired. And Messer can relate. He realises she's one of those people who sleep with mismatched pyjamas.
- Yeah well, - he looks down at his hands and keeps on wrapping them, while replying to her – my family was a big fan of saying pain is only in your mind. – the way the word family sounds in his head makes him clench and he wants to spit out the word as soon as he says it. - So they weren't exactly that keen to teach me anything when it comes to fixing it.
Wanda looks at him, really looks and says nothing. He hopes she's not pitying him. She decides to get closer.
- Can I show you?
Messer is startled by that, not expecting her help. They haven't exactly been on speaking terms and it's not like she's ever gone out of her path to meet him. But then again, he's also never really given her much replies to work on.
It's the first time they've ever been alone. In fact, it's the first time he even remembers truly speaking with her. Sokovia hadn't counted. Not really. He wonders if it's the night doing something to them.
She points at his hands and sits in front of him.
- Can I? – Messer nods and she picks up his left hand, slowly tracing his knuckles. He's not really sure why his heart is still racing when he's finished working out a while ago now.
- Why are you awake? – Wanda unwraps the bandages and he feels shivers traveling through his skin from her touch. She's cold.
- It's snowing. – he tries to decipher the way she says it, slowly, gently. The sound of her voice equals to the movements of her touch. He realises he'd be content with just hearing it again, so he stays silent while she works on his hands. Unwrapping and wrapping. – Pietro, my brother. He used to love snow.
She switches to Messer's right hand and begins the process of again unwrapping the mess he's made. He's aware he should say something, but he doesn't want her to stop talking. So he doesn't.
- It was always fun when it snowed. He would proclaim himself the king of winter and my protector. – she smiles as she speaks. – Because he was 12 minutes older and that was his job, that's what he would say. But now I just dread snow.
She finishes his right hand and keeps on holding it while not looking at him, deep in thought.
- Must have been some king. – Messer's voice sounds raspy, from being silent. She looks up and drops his hand suddenly, as if she'd forgotten she was ever holding it.
- He was. – Wanda smiles forcedly, and he understands that that conversation is over, deciding not to push it. He looks at his hands and knows nobody would believe him if he said he had been the one doing it.
- Thank you, this is some really good work. – he lifts his hands, nodding at them. She smiles and nods back, getting up.
Messer follows her, both leaving the gym and stopping by the kitchen. He doesn't mean to be a creep, he didn't even want company in the first place, but she's there and she looks sad, and he simply can't leave. He could, but he can't.
- Why are you awake? – Wanda looks at him from the other side of the counter and he wonders what reply he can give her, taking a bit of time and enjoying the maintained silence. He settles for snow.
- My mum used to tell me life was a snow globe. – she looks interested. – Or at least I think that was her. I'm never sure. Not anymore. – he leans into the counter and plays with his fingers. The bandages there remain perfectly perfect. – Funny thing is, I never even saw snow when I was growing up, so I'm not sure where that analogy came from.
- You never saw snow? – Wanda asks. He shrugs his shoulders and smiles at her.
- I did eventually. I was with Nat the first time. Maybe some three years ago. – she nods and they both remain in silence once again.
- So you also can't sleep because it's snowing? - He doesn't have the heart to tell her the true reason, feeling embarrassed all of the sudden. It's not like he could tell her all about the family he doesn't remember and the family he does. It's not like he could tell her about Hydra right now. So he sticks to the closest thing he remembers from his first home and nods at her while she doesn't look like she truly believes him.
– Are you hungry?
- Sorry? – she's intrigued and he's having fun watching all the emotions she's being throwing him in the past half an hour.
- Are you hungry? - He turns her back to her and opens the fridge, looking for food. She joins in shortly, clearly giving her answer and they work on it.
They work in silence both of them, handing stuff to each other when it's needed. He doesn't really understand where this... connection is coming from. But he's appreciating it. It's five in the morning and he's making sandwiches and filling glasses with juice, with Wanda Maximoff. And they are not fighting. Not even close. Not at all.
- Tell me about the snow globe? – they move to the couch and sit there, each in one side, sharing a plate and he once again plays with his hands. He's nervous, she can tell.
- You know when you shake a snow global? - she nods while eating her half. - It gets all messy, there's flakes everywhere and the city that was there gets hidden. - Messer takes his time, trying to find the right words. He doesn't remember much, but he knows he has to be right in what he is saying. He has to. It can't all have been wiped out of his mind. - It's crazy and that city's world gets turned around. And it doesn't look like it'll stop soon.
Wanda is sitting across from him and she looks so tired and so young at the same time, listening to him, hoping for a life vest. And he realises they're both hoping for it. There she is looking exactly like him, in her t-shirt and jacket. And there he is, in his t-shirt and jacket. And he's painfully aware he must look like a messy teenager. But she, above everything else, manages to look lovely.
He clears his throat before moving on.
- But the thing is it does stop. And that world goes back to what it was, no matter how much time it can take. - Wanda copies him, playing with her hands and looking below at them. - So the message here would be something along the lines of yes, your world gets shaken a lot of times, but eventually it stops.
- Your mother must have been a kind woman. - Messer doesn't reply. He doesn't have an answer for that.
They finish the rest of the food only listening to the clock in the wall, that is telling them they have been up for longer than they should. Both deep in thought.
- Maybe we can do this some other time. - he tells her. And he has no idea where that has come from.
- Maybe we can. – she smiles at him and they both stay in silence for a bit looking at each other. It feels so natural and kind, that Messer has a hard time sorting it out in his mind. Is it really happening or is he again not being able to distinguish between real and dream? As he ponders, Wanda gets up slowly from the couch.
- Good night, Messer. – she turns to leave and he just nods, incapable of saying it back, of ending the moment.
She walks behind the couch and reaches the stairs and he remembers that he should say something, anything at all.
- Wanda? – she turns around to look at him. Messer freezes. He wonders what's wrong with him, as nothing seems to want to come out. He loses the breath he'd be holding in and looks down, to then look back at her, more composed.
– I'm sorry about Pietro. – she looks at him as if deciding if he's telling the true. – Take your time, Wanda. Eventually it stops snowing. A snow globe can't be shaken all day. - Messer smiles at her sadly, not expecting her to smile back. But she does. And he knows it's a sad one, but it's still a smile and that makes him feel something. - 'Night.
As Messer turns back around, he hears her going up the stairs and it's a funny thing.
He came down because of a dream. He came down because of voices.
Thing is, he can't remember what they were even saying in the first place. And as he lays down on the couch, he thinks of snow globes and how that's one good Christmas memory he now has.
And he sleeps.