Chapter Ten:

Pietro's POV

We made the picnic a tradition. After training we would have lunch outside, unless it was raining. My sister and Vision were awfully close, and it was kind of strange, since his origin is, well, less than human. But, I didn't go all big brother on him.

He was probably the best person Wanda could have picked, and he made her so happy. That was enough for me.

It was the four of us that always came to the picnic with the occasional appearance of Steve, Natasha, Rhodey, or Sam. One day, Stark came by, but he claimed that he was important to eat outside on the ground. So, he stayed in, which was fine by me.

Even when we were just the four of us, I enjoyed spending time with Elena and we were a good group. Whenever Wanda and Vision ended up in deep conversation I would talk with Elena.

"I don't want to ask you this question." Elena said to me one day. It was a larger group here with Steve, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision. But the group had kind of separated. Steve and Natasha were talking about the latest mission they each had, and Wanda and Vision were deep in conversation about the show she made him watch, Bewitched. She loved showing him all the shows we had watched as children.

Elena continued, "But I've been wondering it since I met you, well even since I heard about you."

"You can ask me anything." I tell her.

"What made you volunteer for Hydra's experiment?"

I took a deep breath.

I think back to what I told Ultron, the picture I held onto for so long.

I thought about my hatred for Stark.

Then, I think about the secret I've been keeping from Elena for a while now. That she was a Stark, that Tony was her father.

I also think back to when I… came back to life. I remember sucking in a deep breath as if I had been drowning and was just now coming out of the water.

It took me a minute to orient myself, then I looked to get off the table that I had been lying on. I saw Elena, crumbled on the ground against the table.

Everything that came next, it was instinctive, I jumped off and lifted her up, running to get help. I saw some medical staff right away, including Helen Cho and, of course, they looked like they saw a ghost. That makes sense now.

But I knew they didn't have time to worry about that and I shouted at them to help her.

They took her away and connected her to some machines. Steve and Tony arrived a little while later along with Wanda. Wanda hugged me and cried. She was the first one to explain to me that I had died, legit died.

It was easy then to piece together what had happened. Elena was willing to trade her life for mine, she must have known how risky it was, messing with the natural order of things. I'm not religious or superstitious, but… it is a little strange.

Elena's state was worrisome for way too long, but when it looked like she was going to be okay, Steve and Tony sat me down. They told me that they weren't telling Elena she was a Stark, that it would be too much to add on to her list of problems.

I never liked Stark and probably never would, so I agreed that being related to him would not be good. Yet, now, lying did not seem like the thing to do.

To the question at hand, I told her the truth. "Wanda and I were angry. At the state of the world, at the state of Sokovia, and at the death of our parents due to the bomb created by Stark."

I clenched and unclenched my fists, "We wanted to be able to change the world and Hydra promised that we could do just that. We believed them, but it was a mistake. Just like joining Ultron was a mistake."

"I understand," she says. "I understand what it's like to be desperate."

"How 'bout you?" I asked her. "How did you end up at Hydra? –If you don't mind me asking." I quickly add.

She hesitates and looks down at her hands.

"You don't have to tell me," I say.

"No. It's okay. I lived with my family outside of a small town in Bulgaria. It was me, my mother, my step-father, my little brother, and my grandfather."

I choke out, "Little brother?"

"Yeah, he was my half-brother, Jeremy, the son of my mother and step-father." She answers. "He was only 5 and I was 8."

She continues with the story. "My family was in the living room… and we thought we smelt fire. My step-father went to look. He came back and said the shed was on fire and that he was going to call someone. It was dark, he didn't see anyone around."

Her American accent starts to slip a little and her eyes start to glisten. "He was shot first when he went to get the phone. My grandfather reacted, went for his shotgun and tried to defend us."

"My mother told me to take my brother and head directly for the woods and she grabbed herself a weapon."

I see out of the corner of my eye that everyone has stopped talking and were focused on us. They must have sensed the turn in conversation.

Elena was focused on her hands as she told the story. "I did what I was told, and I practically dragged my brother into the woods. But it was dark and there were people with flashlights and gunfire was going off everywhere."

"We had made it into the woods, but I could see from the lights they were holding that there were people all around us." Her American accent was lost, and she looked in pain.

"I wanted to protect my brother." Her voice cracked and she paused, recomposing herself.

She closed her eyes, breathing carefully, and when she opened them the tears were gone, her face cold and distant. She probably had lots of experience forming a mask to hide her feelings.

When she continued she was composed, but stuck with her Bulgarian accent, perhaps more comforting to her. "I hid him. Had him lie down at the base of a tree. Told him to stay there and when daylight came to go to town and find our uncle, Stefano."

"And then I left him there." She says. "I ran, pulling the attention away from him."

"Obviously, I was taken, and I have no idea what happened to my brother."

"I'm sorry." I say to her.

"Don't be." She says, finally looking up at me. "It's fine."

I don't believe that. And to top it off, I don't really know what to say to that story. I open my mouth for anything to come out, but before anything has a chance to, she stands up. "I'm going to go. It was good talking to you."

I don't believe that either. Her words were fine, but her voice was empty.

I watch as she walks towards the building, and it takes Wanda saying something to bring me back to the fact that the others had been listening. Elena hadn't acknowledged them, did she realize they had stopped their conversations to listen to her tragic tale?

I look at them. "I'm sorry." The only words I can form. "I shouldn't have asked her."

"No. It was good of you." Steve said. "She needs to talk it out."

"It was probably the first time she'd ever told someone what happened." Natasha points out.

"Perhaps it's time for us all to go inside." Wanda says, looking up at the darkening clouds.

Elena's POV

I walk away from the group.

I thought I could handle that story.

God. I am so weak and stupid and…. I want to scream.

I hate stupid emotions. Sometimes, I wish Hydra had been able to cut them out of me, something they had tried so hard to do. Yet, I feel sad and angry and… things I couldn't even name.

Plus, I was thinking about the part I had left out.

The Winter Solider. Steve's friend- Bucky. The one who plucked me off the ground, kicking and screaming. The one who had killed my mother.

It was the rest of the story.

He picked me up and brought me to a team of men. One of them holding my mother, who was still alive. I cried out, wanting to go to her.

"We got the girl." One guy says into a walkie-talkie.

They get a response back, "make sure to kill everyone else there."

"Yes sir." He responds before turning to the Winter Solider. "You heard him. Kill the woman."

The Winter Solider didn't hesitate. He shot her as she cried, telling me that she loved me.

I screamed so much it hurt.

It wouldn't be until later that I would see the Winter Solider again. I had found out before-hand who he was to Hydra and that he belonged to Pierce and about what Pierce did to his assets. Lots of secrets and stories floated around different bases.

I remember Julian, my old handler, took me to see what happens during a mind wipe. I remember seeing the Winter Solider being pushed down into the machine.

The scream of agony was familiar, but that look of confusion and then having no control.

It was hard to hate someone who wasn't even in control of his actions. I didn't want to be that way, so I followed orders as best I could. I wanted to be in control, even though I never really was.

Yet, without being able to blame the one who took the shot, I looked inward. By what he had said, I knew what they wanted.

Me.

My family was dead because of me.

And I had no idea why.

I got to my room in the Avenger's building and closed the door. I tried to push the feelings and the thoughts out of my head.

Something that I've tried to do for 9 years.