Avengers: Don't Get in My Way

Chapter 1

"The kid's in a bad place, Laura. She needs…I don't know what she needs, exactly. But I do know she needs something and she needs to find a way to make peace within herself, otherwise she's just going to implode upon herself, you know?" asked Clint as he glanced back over his shoulder. Wanda was standing by the lake side again, under a tree, apart from everyone and staring off across its surface as if looking into another world. All around them, their teammates and others they knew were still talking, and she seemed separate from them in some way the archer couldn't explain.

Laura Barton nodded softly as her gaze followed her husband's over his shoulder. Without taking her eyes off the young Sokovian, she laid a hand on Clint's bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze. "She's in a lot of pain, Clint. You don't have to have some sort of special powers, or even to know her intimately, to see that," she replied. Her hand came up to indicate everyone around them. "You all are in a lot of pain. However, from what you've told me in the past, and what I've seen on TV, her being in so much pain is dangerous, not just to you guys, or anyone else she might come across, but herself as well, herself especially."

Clint closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before opening his eyes to his wife once more. "Yeah, I know. I'm worried about her, babe. With that much power, she can't afford to be as out of whack as she is right now. She's a really good kid. She's got a huge heart, she's kind, she's smart…hell, she's a lot like you," he retorted. He knew Laura was thinking, he could see it in her face. He just hoped she wasn't misinterpreting his motives, or thinking that Wanda was too big a danger to try and help. "Not like you like that, I mean. Just she reminds me a lot of you…and Nat."

Natasha Romanov had at one time been a target that Clint had been sent to eliminate, which was a "politically correct" way of saying she was a mark for assassination, which was ironic when you considered the fact that among Natasha's own resume was the fact that she was one of the top assassins in the world. She was a danger, a "threat to the free world" they had told him. They made her sound as if she were some sort of extinction event that would wipe out mankind or something, all by herself. She was good, Clint knew, but nobody was that good. No one, not him, not her, not any one person was that good. He went into the mission thinking that there were better ways to handle this "problem" other than killing a young woman with obviously exceptional skills, skills that he himself possessed.

Instead of killing her, he'd decided on a different path. He spoke with her, reasoned with her, and convinced her that she could do a lot more good in the world working with them, instead of against them. Of course, it wasn't simply as easy as doing that. They'd fought, they'd gone toe to toe for some time, and neither could quite get the upper hand on the other, not and keep it for long enough for it to matter. In the end, though, his words had gotten through her enigmatic façade, and had resonated within her in some way, because she ended up joining them. SHIELD had gained a highly proficient operative, and Clint had gained something far more useful; a friend.

Over the following years, their friendship had grown, and as it did, he got to see glimpses of the sort of person Natasha Romanov actually was. He got to see her, not just the face she put up for the world, the mask she wore so well that she herself had come to believe the image she conveyed. Clint discovered the depths of honor, duty, and loyalty that lay hidden beneath the cool elite operative exterior. He discovered the kindness, the selflessness, and the capacity to care that she kept buried under the identity she had built for herself, and in the process, he discovered a woman that he was happy to not only call a friend, but that had become like a sister to him.

Eventually, his entire family came to view her as a member of their family. She was the "cool aunt" that spoiled the kids incessantly, the sister that both Clint and Laura knew they could depend on, and the friend that Laura could talk to when she couldn't even talk to Clint. Laura knew that Clint had loved her as fiercely as he loved her, not romantically, but just as strongly. There was a brother and sisterly bond between them that had weathered many things that would have torn most siblings apart, but not them.

Laura could see the same sort of connection and bond forming between her husband and the young Eastern European girl. Most women might have felt jealousy, or at least have had concerns for the possibility that something else was going on, but Laura felt pride for the man she loved. Clint projected an image of a no nonsense, hardcore paramilitary operative, a stone faced individual some might say, but she knew the teddy bear he was underneath. It gave her comfort knowing that even with the horrors of the life he led, he still managed to hold on to his faith and humanity, as well as that big heart of his. In many ways, Clint was one of the prongs of the anchor that held this group of extraordinary people together. He helped keep them human.

She smiled and lightly slapped Clint on the shoulder. "I know you don't mean like that you silly man," she said with a soft brief laugh. "I think she needs a family right now, just from the look in her eyes that I see whenever she turns our way. Besides, you do have a thing about picking up strays, dear. Strays can make for the best company most of the time. So, yes of course she can come to the house, and she can stay as long as she wants to or needs to. She's welcome."

The bowman smiled lightly and kissed his wife on the cheek briefly. "Thanks, babe. Just wanted to be sure."

X

"Hey, Wanda, how are you feeling?" asked the voice of Steve Rogers. Wanda had been staring across the lake, not really focused on anything external. All her thoughts, all her concentration, were inward. The man out of time stood a couple of paces behind the young woman, waiting for her to turn before speaking further, or moving any closer.

The young woman called by the name Scarlet Witch stood still for a moment, and then slowly turned to face the man speaking to her. Her red rimmed eyes burned with both grief and rage, though she directed neither towards her friend. She breathed out slowly, letting it drag on for several seconds. "Nothing good," she replied in a quiet raspy voice. The words were cold, and yet still had some venom to them.

Steve knew that her tumultuous emotions weren't centered on him, so he took it for what it was. He stuck his hands in his pockets and sighed softly in empathy. "I know this is all unbelievably hard for you. It seems like the punches just keep coming, no matter how many you dodge or block," he said with a genuine tone of sympathy. "We've lost a lot, all of us have. You've lost a lot. These are wounds you can't just slap a Band-Aid on and call it a day. These are wounds that have to heal on their own, and that takes time.

"We're your family now. You've always got us to lean on, and our ears to bend when you want or need to. We're here, always, when you need us." Steve fell silent again, and regarded the young woman, hoping his words helped in some way. He knew words could never fix what happened, what was lost, but hopefully they could provide some small measure of comfort.

"I know, and thank you," she answered as her gaze rose from the ground to his face. "This is all so…I know how this must seem, how I must seem to everyone. I mourn for Tony, I do. That's why we're all here. My grief is divided, and it doesn't seem fair to everyone else. I don't know how to stop feeling it, though."

Steve's brows furrowed and he tilted his head slightly. His hands came up to lightly grasp Wanda's shoulders and he held them for a moment so he could catch her attention and her gaze. "Wanda, listen to me a second, okay?" he began. "No one here thinks you're being selfish or whatever you want to call it. Pepper lost Tony, Morgan lost Tony, and they're grieving, yes. Everyone here lost Tony and they are all grieving, but do you think Pepper's grief is any less important because she's not the only one feeling that loss? Do you think that she feels like she's being unfair or selfish because her grief isn't theirs? Everyone's loss is personal to them, and that includes yours."

The wind blew past them from over the lake, and it was a bit chilly and crisp, a perfect metaphor for the general mood. Steve pressed on, "We lost a lot more than just Tony, and we grieve for them as much as we do for him. It doesn't matter that we're here, at his funeral. We're still allowed to feel all our grief for everyone, no matter where we are. Everyone's grief is unique, and everyone's grief is personal, even when that grief is shared. For all of us, losing Tony is the loss of a friend, or a brother, or however someone felt about him. Pepper's loss is that of her husband, of someone she loved with everything she had." The super soldier stopped a moment to see if she was actually listening to and absorbing his words or if she had slipped into her own thoughts.

It seemed as if she was with him so far, so he continued, "Losing Nat was like losing a sister for most of us. I think Bruce feels her loss more keenly and probably from a different perspective than the rest of us, because she and he were more than simply friends or family. There was something building there, an emotional connection beyond what everyone else shared with her. We lost Vision, and again, for most of us, it was like losing a brother or something like that, but for you? Losing Vision was something else entirely for you. Someone would have to be blind to not have seen that. No matter what anybody else in the world thought, thinks, or might think, he loved you as deeply as you did him. How can you possibly turn that on and off because it doesn't seem 'fair?' You can't, that's part of what that love is all about."

Wanda listened, even as much as it hurt just to think about it, and considered what he was saying. It felt good to know that at least Steve and Clint seemed to understand what she was going through, if not first hand, at least in concept. It felt good to at least have her feelings validated so she wouldn't keep feeling guilty for her grief being focused on someone other than just Tony. She was glad someone didn't feel she was being selfish because her grief was so strong for someone other than the person's funeral that they were all attending.

"Thank you, Steve," she said finally after some self reflection. Coming to grips with everything, especially with her feelings about Vision, and how they had just came into focus and she realized the strength and depth of those feelings just days before he was killed, was difficult at best. "It feels good that all of you…that you…consider me family enough to worry about me, even though you don't have to."

"Of course we have to," retorted Steve with a light smile as he hugged her gently for a moment before letting her go. "It's what family does. Remember that." He gave her a light squeeze on the shoulder, and then gave a nod as he moved back to those he'd been speaking with earlier.

X

The ride out to Clint and Laura's farm had been breathtaking from the windows of the quin jet. The surrounding area was beautiful, lush and green, very different from the stark relief of the large cities. Physically and emotionally exhausted once they arrived, she had said her thank you's, met the kids, had a quick dinner and went to bed. She slept deeply, but fitfully, reliving the nightmare of what had happened again in the twisted perception of her dreams.

She awoke an hour or so after sunrise, she imagined, and the house was still and quiet. She moved to the window and looked outside. The yard was deserted, none of the kids were in sight, and the truck was gone. The old blue tractor stood under the shed and looked like it hadn't been used in at least a week. It was eerily quiet.

Once she was dressed, she headed downstairs, and was surprised by the smell of typical breakfast foods in America. Her stomach growled low and softly, and she pushed the door open leading into the kitchen. Inside, Laura was busily cooking bacon, sausage, toast, scrambled eggs, and pancakes for what looked like a meal for two. Her brows rose a little, having not expected something like this. Since coming to the States, she typically ate a bowl of cereal or toast and jelly in the mornings most of the time.

"Oh, hi. Good morning, Wanda. Are you hungry?" Laura asked as she looked over her shoulder when the door opened. She busily took the pancakes off the griddle and turned it off after dividing the stack into two. "Did you sleep okay? Clint and the kids didn't wake you up, did they?"

"Good morning," Wanda replied, still not entirely sure she knew what was happening. Laura's question shook her out of her fugue, and her stomach growled its own answer. "I slept better than I expected, thank you. And yes, I am hungry, thank you again. Can I help you with anything?" She moved closer to the stove so she could see what Laura had going on. She felt like she should do something to repay the woman's kindness.

Laura smiled as she started stirring the eggs around in the skillet, and nodded. "I usually have trouble sleeping in an unfamiliar place too, especially if I've got a lot on my mind to start with," she said good naturedly. "I'm glad you slept a bit, at least. You seemed exhausted last night. Oh, I forgot to ask. You don't have any dietary restrictions I should know about do you? I don't know if you follow Jewish traditions, Christian ones, or what sort you might, or if you're vegetarian or vegan, so I wasn't sure if pork was an 'okay' thing to fix or not. Do you like cheese in your eggs?" She opened the bag of shredded cheese and prepared to pour some into the eggs if she said yes.

The corners of Wanda's lips rose a little as she shook her head, and started taking the bacon out of the other skillet with a set of tongs. "I was, and I'm sorry if I wasn't the best company last night. I don't know how to thank you and your family for allowing me to stay here a while," she said as she used the kitchen towel to clean her hands off. "I have no restrictions, no. And I'd love some cheese in my eggs if it isn't too much trouble?"

Laura poured the cheese into the eggs and stirred them as she shook her head, "You were fine, I promise, Wanda. We all know this isn't the easiest of times for anyone. You don't have to thank us, really. You're family, Clint sees you as a little sister, so we both do. The kids have already asked if it's okay if they call you Auntie Wanda? They were excited to meet you. They've seen you on TV with the rest of the Avengers, and Clint speaks of you often. Also, you really won them over last night by talking to them and stuff instead of just being polite like many adults tend to be with kids. So, they see you like they saw Nat, the 'cool aunt.'"

"He does?" asked Wanda in surprise. She sat down at Laura's insistence, and began getting herself settled to eat breakfast with her hostess. She never thought of Clint as being the overly talkative type. It seemed he was like most people, and somewhat of a different person when he was at home.

Laura set Wanda's food down in front of her, and then sat down with her own. She poured syrup over her pancakes, and offered Wanda biscuits from a plate she had covered with a kitchen towel. "Oh, Lord, yes," she answered Wanda's question with a pleasant voice. "He talks about a lot of the stuff you all do, and about all of you in general. You'd probably never know it, but you're all as much his family as the kids and I are. That, and he thinks the world of you. I'm sorry if this is a sore topic, I don't want to make you feel bad, but you had a brother, didn't you?"

Wanda was a little dumbfounded. The conversation was a completely normal, average conversation any two friends might have over breakfast. She'd been worried that she and the children would feel as if they had to walk on eggshells, and that she'd be this fragile, broken girl that couldn't bear to speak of any of that. It's true, I guess I am a little fragile and broken. Yet, Laura is talking to me like she'd talk to anyone else. She doesn't see me as a freak, or as something to be awed or feared, or as if I were some sort of enemy because of the mistakes I've made that they've frequently had on the news, she thought.

She made no effort to hide the surprise as she stopped mid bite, and glanced up at her new friend. "Um, yes I did. A twin brother; his name was Pietro. We were very close, as most twins are, I suppose. Why do you ask?" Wanda countered with her own question. The eggs and cheese slowly warped their shape as gravity exerted itself while the bite waited to be eaten.

Laura's smile grew softer and she nodded slowly as she took a bite of bacon, chewing it for a moment before replying, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to upset you. I was just wondering if Clint had told you? We named our youngest son Nathaniel, after Nat." The woman finished chewing her bacon and took a drink of her orange juice, letting it swish around in her mouth for a second before swallowing.

Still not following, Wanda nodded, "Yes, I knew that Nathaniel was originally thought to be a girl and you were going to name her after Natasha, and since he turned out to be a boy, you went with a masculine form of the name. He told me that, of course." It seemed an odd question, and she decided that maybe she'd just missed something. Rather than seem too inquisitive, she continued eating herself.

"That goober!" exclaimed Laura with an exasperated laugh. "He obviously didn't tell you all of it." She paused a long moment, taking a couple of bites as she did. When Wanda made no sign of understanding what she meant, Laura continued, "Nathaniel's full name is Nathaniel Pietro Barton."

Wanda's eyes widened and they had the shimmer of moisture welling along their bottoms as she stared at Laura a moment in shock and silence. "Pietro?" she asked in a cracking voice. Her mind was having trouble processing this information for a moment. "You named your son Pietro? I thought Clint hated Pietro…they didn't seem to get along in Novi Grad when we were fighting Ultron. I…I wouldn't have expected…" she trailed off.

Laura pushed her empty plate aside for the moment, and laid her hand over Wanda's lightly. "Yes, we named him Pietro, after your brother," Laura confirmed. "Clint has an odd way with friends. They often playfully insult each other, or seem very competitive with each other. If you ever paid attention to the back and forths he and Nat had, you'll know what I mean. He says Pietro sacrificed himself to save Clint, and that he 'liked the kid' to use his words. Clint felt naming a child after him was the least he could do to say thank you, to both of you. That way Pietro would be honored and his sacrifice wouldn't be forgotten."

Wanda's throat wouldn't make any sounds so she could speak. The gesture was something completely unexpected, and Laura was right, it was a way to honor Pietro. She sat in shocked silence for several moments before her eyes rose once more to meet Laura's. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you both would so something so…meaningful and amazing."

X

The conversation with Laura had lasted a couple of hours, and the woman had suggested that maybe Wanda might like to take a walk around the farm to get some fresh air before lunch. Wanda thought it sounded like a good idea, and that the walk might help clear her head a little. She had so much on her mind, a chance to straighten some of it out would feel good.

She could still feel Vision, somehow, somewhere, and the more she let herself open up to the feeling, the stronger her belief that it was real became. More, she could still feel the tingle of the Infinity Stones, which she shouldn't have been able to do at all, especially since Thanos had destroyed them in this present timeline by blasting them into atoms, using them against themselves. On top of that, they were destroyed literally dozens of light years away from Earth, in a place she could never reach even if they still existed. She was sure their power could be used to bring back those they lost during the fight, if they could just be accessed and used.

The Avengers had gone back in time and retrieved earlier versions of the stones to build their own gauntlet and use it to reverse the horror that Thanos had wrought. Yet, when they had done so, they had to return those stones back to the moment they took them, to make sure time didn't fold in on itself. They were probably doing that right then even as she walked around the path near the barn. But if the stones from this timeline could be used, it wouldn't destroy the space time continuum and the universe wouldn't implode on itself.

Only the stones that belong to the present, to now, were destroyed by Thanos five years ago. He reduced them to atoms. It's not as if you'd be gluing a broken vase back together. There's nothing to put back together. Or is there? she thought as she continued to walk the path that was well worn through the grass. As she had these thoughts, she knew the Avengers were busily traveling back in time to replace the borrowed stones to their rightful times and places.

She stopped walking and closed her eyes, just trying to feel the universe breathing around her. She didn't even dare to think what was going through her mind because putting it to actual words, even in her thoughts, might destroy any chance that something that crazy could actually work. It was an insane thought, and even more insane idea to even consider it in the first place, but it refused to leave her mind. She had to see if it felt like it was in any way even remotely possible, as crazy as the idea seemed.

Since she'd come back from the Snap, she'd felt herself and her powers changing. Like she'd confided in Clint, something felt different. She felt stronger, more powerful, and it kept building every day. She was already showing signs of having powers that she either didn't have before, or hadn't realized that they could be used in such a way, but this was crazy, even given that this felt like it had already been going on for a long time. Who knew what she was truly capable of with her powers evolving as they were? She didn't, so who else would?

There was a mild tingling tickle in her mind for a moment, like a tiny discharge of static electricity when you touch a doorknob after walking across a carpet dragging your feet wearing a coat. She felt something…she felt it, whatever it was. She concentrated, and projected her senses and mind outwards, trying to reach out to whatever it was she was feeling.

Wanda stretched her mind, and stretched all her awareness out towards whatever it was that she was feeling. Just when it felt like she'd stretched as far as she possibly could towards what she believed could be the energy of the stones and had failed to reach it, her mind finally made contact. She felt a wave of pure awe pour over her and she half believed she was imagining it or dreaming it. However, there it was, it was real and she could feel it.

Elation threatened to overpower her she was so surprised and relieved to discover that she wasn't crazy. She was feeling something, whether it was the energy of the destroyed stones, or something else, it was there. She could also still feel the echoes of Vision in her mind, slowly growing stronger and more persistent. When she'd managed to touch whatever it was that she was in contact with, those echoes became stronger, much stronger.

She allowed herself to continue feeling the energy she was somehow touching, getting to know more about whatever it was by continuing her exposure to it. It felt like it was billions of miles away, and if it was indeed what she thought it was, it truly was that far away, and somehow, she was touching it. If she could touch it, then she thought she should be able to manipulate it. There was obviously something to it, because even though she wasn't touching it physically, she could feel it as if it was.

Her mind wrapped around the source of the tingle, and she felt it tugging itself towards something. She allowed it to do so and it did so again and again, and whatever it was seemed to be gaining a form of some sort as it seemed to grow, and its presence increased geometrically. It was like putting pieces of a puzzle together with her mind. Could this truly be what she thought it was, or was this some strange delusion she was having, fueled by grief?

Energy flowed along the connection to whatever it was, and the stream grew more and more potent with every passing second. Suddenly, the form seemed content to remain still, whatever it was, and the process started over again, with another presence. Like the one before it, it drew itself towards something, and as it continued to do so, it too grew both in form and power. Could she really be doing this? Or had she completely lost it and gone absolutely mad in her grief? Perhaps both had happened?

Manipulating whatever the presences were was taxing and exhausting, but she wasn't giving up, there was no way she could. The longer she manipulated these forces, the longer she felt them, the more positive she was that she was actually touching the energy and the atoms of the destroyed stones. How, she didn't have a clue, yet it appeared to be happening all the same for all intents and purposes. She didn't care how or why it was happening, only that it was happening. That was all that mattered.

"I will set things right again, the way they're supposed to be, the way they should have been," she whispered to herself as she felt the wind pick up around her. "I don't care what it takes, how 'right' or 'wrong' it is, how natural or unnatural it is, or what the consequences are. If I can do it, I'm going to damned well do it, and no one and nothing is going to get in my way."

Above her, the sky grew dark quickly, as if in the middle of a freakish thunderstorm, and just as suddenly exploded into white light that drowned out even the sun for a few seconds. The whole time, the energy she was feeling grew stronger.