On the day of the funeral, Wanda felt like there was a black hole caving in her chest. It was the same feeling she had on the day Pietro died, on the day she had felt him ripped away from her and was replaced by a chasm of nothing, a terrifying void and a scream forever caught in her throat. It felt like she would fall out of existence, except there was Natasha keeping her tethered to life.
The woman had become a source of comfort for Wanda with her kind persistence and as much as she felt it was undeserved it was the only thing keeping her moving forward. Especially for that day, as her steady, soft hands guided and helped her move, then even carried her when she reached the point of collapse. Clint with his presence and thoughtfulness and Steve with his words and warmth and even the others in attendance that she had scarcely paid attention to had given her reassurance too, that it was more than just herself there to honor her brother's life. However, she would never truly be able to express her gratitude toward Natasha, having been there for in a way she would never forget. She did not know why the woman would care about her after what she had done, maybe she did not really care specifically for Wanda and was simply a good person, but whatever it was she was thankful for it.
Wanda remembered when she had woken up in the car to Natasha gently touching her shoulder. She managed to clamber up to her room after saying goodbye to Clint who was leaving on the jet that night. Natasha was a silent flurry of movement around her that she could not keep track of as the spy helped her get ready to go to sleep. Wanda barely noticed when Natasha sat her on the bed and disappeared for a moment returning with an orange. She held up the fruit, offering it to her, "For Pietro?"
Wanda had been glad she had not been asked her to eat any food that day as she stomach had been in horrible knots. And if the woman had said something else or brought her anything beside that orange Wanda would have probably refused it. But Natasha seemed to have some innate understanding of what she needed at times and the teenager nodded in agreement.
Sitting on the edge of her bed together, Natasha pealed the orange, letting the rind fall into the skirt of her dress she had not changed out of yet. They shared the fruit in silence, the woman handing her sweet, juicy wedges that made her fingers sticky and having a few herself until the orange was gone. Then Natasha put her to bed the way she had the previous nights, pulling the comforter up around her shoulders and telling her goodnight. This time though she sat on the bed for a moment, brushing Wanda's hair out of her face while Wanda simply looked up at her, trying to ascertain what the woman was thinking without using her powers but her face was a mask of calm. The girl wanted Natasha to stay then, she wanted to curl back into her arms and have the woman hold her together the way she had out at Pietro's grave. But she did not know how to say the words and Natasha finally left her to drift off to black-filled sleep.
In morning when Natasha woke her up with a large blueberry pancakes, she felt different. Even though Pietro was farther away from her than they ever had been their entire lives, she felt something like peace knowing he rested in a quiet spot surrounded by trees. And though she still felt the pain and sorrow of his loss heavily pressing down on her, the weight felt as though it had slightly shifted, a shift that gave her enough relief to carry on and hope that there may be a time when it would feel bearable. It was difficult to say she felt better, but it was a start.
Wanda was now sitting on the couch, watching a sitcom on the television Natasha had turned on for her before leaving to take care of somethings. The show was funny, but she could not bring herself to laugh at the gags and jokes on screen. Her eyes started to feel heavy, slipping shut for longer and longer periods of time. Except she could feel someone nearby, their mind humming with indecision and literally hovering on the other side of her bedroom wall in the hallway distracting her from actually achieving sleep. A little annoyed, she called out, "Vision."
The android phased through the walls, "Yes, Miss Maximoff?"
"You're hovering." She said simply and he looked down at his form floating midair then landed noiselessly onto the ground. "I don't mean like that."
Vision nodded, indicating he understood that she had not meant his physical state from the beginning. He took a tentative step forward, "I was hoping that I would be able to speak with you."
"Why?" She stared at him, at the same time feeling the pulse of curiosity about him come back to her. He had been born with ill intent, destruction preprogrammed into his mind, however now he stood there more serene than anyone she encountered and worthy to wield Thor's hammer.
"I'm leaving to assist with the construction of the Avengers compound, Mr. Stark though I may be able to help there. I wanted to check on your wellbeing before I left." He said in his overly formal tone.
Wanda could not help but instinctually bristle at the mention of Tony Stark, and she asked moodily, "Is that what you do now? Follow Mr. Stark's orders?"
He seemed mildly startled at her sudden ire, but he carried on, though a bit apprehensive, "No, he did not order me. I simply wish to be of use. I fear I have nothing to do here."
The girl felt a pang of remorse at having been snappish with him. She looked down, pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and muttered, "Sorry."
"It's quite alright. I understand you and Mr. Stark have a complicated history." He stated diplomatically, then continued more cautiously once again, "I also hoped I could ask a question if you would indulge me."
Wanda thought for a moment, thinking she had some questions of her own, then gestured to the other end of the couch for him to take a seat. He did so gingerly, having to move his cape out of the way to prevent sitting on it.
"What do you want to ask?" She moved to sit cross legged and angled towards him.
Vision opened his mouth but hesitated. Wanda could feel his mind whirling in thought but did not press in further to read it. She had been extremely careful to not lose control of her telepathy, beyond the general aura she could feel from others that could not be helped at times, since having the conversation with Fury and yet it was the very thing Vision inquired about, "I suppose it would be more of a request. My mind is new to me, and I find my thoughts and more so feelings difficult to categorize. I thought that you would be able to look into my mind and assist in identifying them."
"Mr. Fury said I'm not to mess with people's minds." Wanda said nervously.
"Ah, I understand." He nodded but added, "Though I feel you would not be 'messing with' my mind."
Still she paused, not sure if she would get in trouble or not. Her reluctance perhaps coming more from not being ready to connect with a mind the way Vision was asking. Pietro had been the only person she formed a telepathic connection with, they were practically linked this way all the time, especially when they had been forced apart by Hydra. The android sensed her uncertainty, "I apologize if I have over stepped. You don't have to-"
"No, I can." Wanda blurted out. "Maybe not now, maybe a different time.. But I could at least show you how I feel, and maybe that could help."
Revealing her own emotions felt more within the parameters of the rules laid out to her; she would not have to go into his mind for that, rather just send a one-way connection for him to feel without having to feel him as well. Vision agreed, "I think that could help."
Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the connection, and when she opened them they glowed red. The only indication Vision was affected was a sudden intake of air and the mechanics of his eye spinning faster. After about a half a minute, Wanda withdrew and waited for Vision to reorient himself. He blinked rapidly for a moment then asked with fascinated trepidation, sounding as close to winded as the android could be, "What was that?"
"It is my sadness and grief over losing my brother." She explained, beginning to feel bad for impressing it onto the man but it was the only emotion she really had to give him.
"It is beautiful." Vision told her softly. Wanda gave him a perplexed look, uncertain how he could construe such pain as something beautiful. He went on to elaborate when he registered her confusion, "What I mean is you must love him very much to experience grief with such magnitude.. Or is that wrong?"
He looked to Wanda for the answer but felt as though an answer that had once been obvious now seemed obscure. After some consideration she finally replied, "I think it's terrible and crushing but at times, yes, beautiful."
He was right, her love for her brother was beautiful, and that love was intrinsically entwined with her grief. Vision proposed after a moment of thought, "Perhaps with time the bad parts will lessen, and it will be more beautiful than not."
"Perhaps." Wanda brushed away tears from her cheeks that had escaped and sniffled a little. If the android felt awkward with her display of emotion he did not show it. Not unlike Natasha, he sat patient and understanding, letting her experience the wave of emotions swell then slowly began to ebb once again.
He then offered, "Since I will be at the compound, I could take flowers to Pietro for you every day, if you'd like. I understand that is a traditional custom when mourning."
"You would?" She asked hopefully.
"Of course."
"We would like that." Wanda then said more quietly, "I would like that, thank you."
"Then I will." Vision promised and rose to his feet. "I shall leave you to rest. I hope you feel better, Miss Maximoff."
She watched him turn to leave with a swish of his cape. The girl stopped him with a question, "Why are you still wearing that?"
"This?" He touched the golden clasp to his cloak. "This is my uniform."
"A uniform is for when you work." The teenager advised him. "People have normal clothing that they wear in their daily lives you know."
Vision contemplated the information then said, "Well.. I suppose it is because I am not a person."
Wanda tilted her head to the side and scrutinized him, "You seem like a person to me. Well, not exactly like a person, a person but a little different.. then again all humans are a little different."
"Thank you," He said with a little bow of acknowledgement, "for your insights, Miss Maximoff."
"Wanda." The girl curled up once again and rested her head on the back of the couch. "You can call me Wanda."
"Alright. Goodbye, Wanda."
"Bye, Vision." She felt her eyes going out of focus as he went to make his exit. Before he could leave though she called out to him again.
"Vision?"
"Yes?"
"You should use the door." The android looked at the wall he was about to phase through then turned to walk toward the door instead, which he phased through to exit instead. The corner of her lip twitched at his actions, and she closed her eyes as everything went blissfully silent at his departure. The possibility of sleep crept back into her mind as she thought again of how she might not feel better yet, but it was a start. Then the nightmares began.
/
Wanda was in her family's apartment in Sokovia, setting the dinner table as her parents came in with some dishes of food. They smiled at her, and she smiled back as they all took seats at the small kitchen table to begin their meal. Everything was cozy and warm with the smell of her favorite paprikash in the air. She looked across the table and found the seat across from her empty, the first hint of a chill crawling down her spine. "Where is Pietro?"
"Here I am, Sister." Pietro stepped out from the hallway but the image of him was not how her brother should be in their loving little home. He looked as if he were under the effects of her glamour, a broad young man with a stubbled square jaw. And horrifying pale with blue lips and clouded eyes and bullet holes riddled his body slowly, oozing maroon blood. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to contain a scream.
She found she was unable to move as she cried out to him. "No, no, no! Pietro!"
"Tell our beloved parents what you did, Sister. Tell them why I'm like this." His voice was taunting and cruel as he took the seat across from her.
"No, I didn't mean for this to happen. Please, Pietro. I'm sorry." She sobbed at him.
He sneered, "But it did happen and it's your fault.. Why should you get to live while we had to die?"
Wanda realized that her parents now too appeared in ghostly visage with skin torn away in places where the bomb had torn through them. They did not smile at her now rather gazed at her with disgust and hatred. She finally was able to stand from her seat, staggering backwards and falling on her backside. She scrambled backwards until her back pressed into a wall. Increasing gun fire and blasts started to build outside around them as her dead family came to surround her.
"I'm sorry. I wish I were dead." She wept.
Pietro knelt in front of her, blood began spilling out of his mouth. Even though the noise around them had grown to deafening levels she could hear her brother speak as if directly into her mind, "If that were really true, you'd be with us now, Wanda."
Wanda was not able to say anything, just cry harder as bombs fell and exploded around her.
"Wanda! What is it? What's wrong?" The girl jolted awake, a scream dying on her lips. FRIDAY had raised the lights halfway and she could see Natasha standing in her door frame with a compact gun in hand, scanning for any danger. The woman was in shorts and a t-shirt for pajamas, hair mussed from sleep and voice only slightly touched with the confusion of sleep, otherwise she seemed completely prepared for action. She took a step forward and Wanda pushed herself up against the headboard with an irrational spasm of fear, causing Natasha to halt her movements towards her. Then the agent got distracted by the light flipping on in the hallway and someone approaching. Natasha stepped out of her line of sight.
"It's alright..." She heard Natasha say as she walked away and had a brief, muffled conversation with a man, Steve most likely being the man. When the agent reappeared she was still alone and did not have the gun anymore, "Wanda, are you alright?"
"I'm- I'm fine." The girl held her breath so Natasha would not hear how ragged it was. "Bad dream."
"It must have been very bad. You were shouting in your sleep." The woman observed her with concern.
"I'm sorry. I did not mean to wake you." Wanda then lied, "I'm okay now."
"Okay…" Natasha did not leave immediately though. She kept watching the Sokovian as if waiting for her to say something else. Settling back down on the mattress, Wanda turned onto her side to face away from the woman.
"Goodnight." Wanda said in a whispering voice.
She heard Natasha expel a small breathe, "Alright, Wanda. Try to get some more sleep.. Goodnight."
As soon as her door clicked shut, Wanda's lips twisted downward, her brow furrowed with sorrow in a silent expression of pain, and she released a breathy sob. She trembled under her covers, taking deep shuddering breathes as she tried to get her emotions under control. Wanda was afraid to shut her eyes for fear that the images of her angry, resentful family would return, and she wished Natasha would come back, though she was not sure what the woman would be able to do for her, she just knew things felt a little bit more bearable when she was around. All she could think of was how safe it had felt when she had been wrapped in Natasha's arms and it was all she really wanted right now as the memory of her nightmare lingered around her.
However, she could not ask for that, the Black Widow did not owe it to her. Why would she want to coddle a teenage girl? And if she would someday be a part of the Avengers then she could not ask her future teammates to hold her after a nightmare Wanda tried to reason with herself. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and curled into a tight ball, lying awake for a long time haunted by the images from her dream and wracked with the guilt that she survived. Finally another bout of restless sleep took over until morning.