Author's Note: For some time I was pretty obsessed with Pietro fix-it fics (frankly I still am), but I couldn't really get this go anyway. Haha. Do what you will.
Characters: Wanda, Pietro, Tony, Clint, Steve, Thor, Steve, Natasha.
Warnings: Some gore, some violence
Written: 2017 some time. :)
Note: Not checked for spelling or grammar!
A Whisper Told Me "Live":
Pietro gasps, his lungs choking for air that isn't coming no matter how hard he tries. Everything is blurry and spinning like some sort of horrible underwater rollercoaster (not that he's ever been on one) but he imagines it would be like this. His chest is tight, almost like when his father would wrap him a bear hug when he was younger and squeeze him until he was choking with laughter but this is much, much worse. His limbs are shaky, his ears ringing and the pain digging into his skin only causing his senses to go haywire more.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
It's not coming.
He's going to die.
He is dying.
This was not how today was supposed to go. They were just supposed to-oh, cats, they.
Wanda!
He can feel her suddenly, now that he's focusing, her pain echoing through him worse than any of the blasts. She's screaming, she's in pain and he can do nothing. He has to get to her, he has to protect his little sister.
His eyes slowly rotate upwards to Clint's face. The man's eyes are wide with shock and the kid he's holding is clutched close to his chest in what almost painful. He'll take care of Wanda, he has to because he can't do it anymore. I'm sorry!
His eyes search over Clint's face for a moment every millisecond feeling like hours. This is the last time he'll see him. Clint. When he's alive. He memorizes it and his eyes raise slightly the speed slowed with his racing heart as he sees a glint of metal sparkle against the light before it smashes against his forehead.
His head explodes with pain, light and dark somehow merging through his sight as his limbs give into the agony. Pietro collapses forward falling against the dirt his eyes still open staring blankly forward. His chest is still heaving for breath though he knows that none is coming. His head pulses with every heartbeat but he can't get his limbs to work.
He's dying.
This time it's real.
Oh, man, what was the last thing he said to Wanda? He can't remember. Everything is slipping away from him like sand through his fingertips. Pietro struggles to keep any remaining grains in his hands. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Wanda is still screaming.
"-d!"
A hand presses against his shoulder and Pietro convulses, gasping again for the breath that isn't entering. He's starting to panic, he need's to breathe. But he can't. What do you do if you can't breathe? Cry? Scream? Plant a garden?
The pain isn't ending.
"-ro!"
The voices sound like they're being played through a record player followed by a explosion. Fuzzy.
Feeling in his limbs is gone but he's suddenly on his back. He doesn't remember rolling over. Why'd he move? Should he move? He's tired, he's exhausted and he want's to sleep. That will help his head, right? The cure for headaches is always sleep.
A man's face appears in his vision, bleary, yet somehow still panicked. He knows this man. He can't remember from where or why though only that he does. Is that bad? Should he know him? Why can't he remember?
Another man's face appears into his vision and he looks like he's going to start hyperventilating. Pietro wants to tug at his hair and just keep pulling. He doesn't understand anything. He wants it to stop, can someone make it stop. Please! He'll do anything, anything. He wants it to go away.
"-ol...n!" A voice tells him.
Ol n? What is he supposed to do with that? He doesn't want to think, he just want's to sleep. Can they stop talking so he can rest? He needs sleep and they aren't letting him do it. Can he cry? He wants to cry in frustration.
His breaths are getting shorter and his brain is getting foggier. How does he get rid of it? It's preventing him from sleep. Maybe he can ask it? No, that doesn't seem right.
Hand's are under his shoulder's suddenly and his knees and he's ripped away from the ground. Wait, stop! He doesn't want to move! He can't! It hurts to much, Pietro opens his mouth to try and explain this to the person but all that comes out is a strangled scream.
"I...k...w...ts...rry." The person says again. The other man is watching from close by, Pietro spots him from the side of his vision. The person next to him is warm, and Pietro suddenly realizes how cold he is. Has he ever been warm? He can't remember anything but pain and the rapidly growing cold. It's like his memories are blocked from him, preventing anything from helping him.
Fear wraps around him.
He doesn't want to die, but he doesn't want to be like this forever.
Something needs him, though, and he can't remember what it is. Hopefully it'll be okay without him.
He's moving at a faster pace, now, and it's making him uncomfortable. He's rocking to much. The arms around him are tight and oddly comforting, he doesn't know who it is though so maybe he should be afraid. He's dying though.
Why can't he fall asleep? Why is he still awake. It can't be possible to be in this much pain and still be alive or awake. He needs rest, and he needs it now.
He lets out a small whimper as he rocks rather aggressively suddenly and he wishes he would stop. Everything hurts to much to be moving like this. It's tingling, and it's cold. Everything is so, so cold, except the arms, and the person. He leans in subconsciously towards the warmth, a shiver wracking through the numbing pain.
It's going away!
But that can't be good. Why though? He can't remember or decide. He just wants it over.
The hands release him and suddenly he's lying on a hard surface. He lets out a small whine of protest as the warmth goes away. Now everything is cold. There isn't any warmth at the end of the tunnel. Just black, dark, and a faint scream ringing through his head.
New pain rocks through him and he smacks the person's hand away. Don't touch! Why are they trying to poke him? Are they trying to make his hurt worse? Is that possible? Can it just end. He wants it over but everyone keeps making it worse. Just be quiet!
...please.
The voice is speaking to him again, the tone soft. He focuses on that because it sounds warm. And he's so, so cold. Pain rocks through him again and he cries out, it burns, it stings, it doesn't stop. He smacks it away again. He wants it gone, so stop touching.
A hand runs through his hair, suddenly, and he would have jumped but his limbs aren't responding to anything he tells them to do. It's just all so heavy. A different voice speaks, he recognizes it, comfort races through him though he can't remember why, but because this voice is here, everything will be alright. The hand is gentle as it strokes through his hair and he focuses on it, barely registering when a different person gabs at him again.
It hurts but it's not as important as the person's hand and their voice, talking in what's an attempted soothe but he can still hear the tears. A sudden desire to comfort runs through him, though he doesn't understand and he attempts to lift his hand up to run it through their hair because the feeling is so peaceful but his limbs remain at his side. It's to heavy. He can't offer the comfort.
The thought saddens him.
The hand is comforting and he slowly closes his eyes all the way. The sudden darkness makes him panic, though and he wants to rip his eyes open again so he can see the light but they aren't opening. Why? Are they broken. Can eyelids break? His are.
The stroking isn't stopping but neither is the prodding. Will they stop touching it! It hurts! They aren't making it any better. Stop, stop, stop!
'Pietro.'
Who's that?
What was that?
Oh no, he's going insane because there is someone inside his brain!
'Pietro.'
He knows they're there! They don't have to say the name. The name? Isn't it his name? Pietro. Yeah, that sounds right. Pietro. The voice is familiar. He knows it, right? No. Yes? He's too tired to figure this out now, he'll sleep now then come back to it. Yeah…
'Pietro, please stop struggling. You need to remain still so they can heal you.'
Heal?
Is he wounded?
He's moving?
He can't feel his limbs, maybe he is. That would explain his aching lungs, his chest, his everything. Nothing is working right, anymore. His body isn't responsive. Oh no, that's bad, this is really bad. His choked breathing picks up pace and he can suddenly feel everything again.
Every gasp is liquid fire running through his veins. His shoulders are aching, his chest is burning. But his head is the worst. If the headache wasn't pulsing between his eyelids, he might be okay but it feels like his brain is trying to explode. Why can't he just fall unconscious! Is there no mercy!?
'Pietro, calm down. You'll be alright.'
No, he won't!
He's dying.
Oh, man, he is dying.
Pietro rips his eyes open again his heavy lids finally releasing their lock. His vision is blurred beyond recognition but he can see the sky above him. The clouds are swirling, the blue bright and boring into his brain. His chest is heaving, his lungs burning but Pietro can see Clint leaning over him.
He jerks his hand up and wraps his burning muscle around the archer's shirt. Clint's attention is on him and he's speaking but Pietro doesn't understand what he's saying. The hand running through his hair stopped, but Pietro doesn't care. His focus is on one thing and one thing only.
Wanda.
Someone has to make sure Wanda is okay after this, someone has to watch out for her.
Clint is still talking rapidly but Pietro is trying to grasp enough energy in his throat to work past the scream to get words out. Someone has to watch his little sister. The words don't make any sense but he doesn't release his grip on Clint.
"W-wan…" he coughs and tears slip from his eyes at the pain. His chest is on fire. He's dying, he can feel everything shutting down. His heart is beating sluggishly in his ribcage. "Y-you...wath...her…" His voice is slurring. Clint has to understand. He will.
Someone is sobbing on his left, but Pietro can't pull his gaze away from Clint on his right. He has to make sure that the man agrees to watch his sister. Clint is still talking but his ears aren't working and Clint gives a nod. Good. Wanda will be safe under his watch-and he will. Wanda is his little sister, even if by twelve minutes.
Pietro can rest now, she'll be safe.
She needs to be safe.
Fear wraps around him, suddenly. Will dying hurt? He's already dying, and it hurts to the question is answered. He's so, so, tired and cold. A shiver wracks through is broken body and exhaustion takes over. Blackness is clinging to the edge of his consciousness.
His hand slips from Clint's shirt and hits the ground by his side, the feeling is funny but he doesn't care anymore.
Wanda is safe.
Clint is safe.
Ultron will be stopped.
His heart beats sluggishly in his ears.
Pietro closes his eyes-
Thump….thump….
-and lets the darkness claim him.
000o000
At the boom of artillery, Clint's whole body tenses and he turns himself to shield the child in his arms. In a way, it reminds him horribly of Cooper when he was frightened by a bad dream yet it's not his actual son. He still needs to protect the kid though, because that's his job. Just as he told Wanda a little less than two hours ago. His whole upper body is rigid and the kid pressed tightly against his chest. He waits.
He won't get that sunroom done, after all. Or the dining room-turned office. Hopefully Laura can convince Steve to help with the project. That part of the house is a mess.
Clint waits.
And waits.
A sharp shing whips through the air and Clint jerks his head upwards as a patriotic shield rushes through the air about a dozen or so feet away. A rush of blue-light streams come to a halt and a body rocks as it takes the impact of the attack.
The rays don't hit the shield nor Clint or the shaking boy.
The rays hit Pietro.
Oh, gosh, no!
Pietro's wide grey eyes meet his and Clint's arms loosen around the child his haunted expression locked onto the seventeen year old in front of him. Seventeen. He's seventeen and...oh no, no, no. This can't be real. When is he going to wake up? How many pinches till he can reverse the time table? This can't be real.
Pietro's body shakes as it gasps for breath that isn't coming and Clint has less than a second to mentally memorize the agonized expression before Steve's terribly timed shield smacks against Pietro's head.
Pietro collapses promptly the shield clattering a few feet away from the Maximoff twin. Clint stills for a moment his eyes locked onto the shield. Pietro...
"Great aim," Clint let's out in an angered whisper. He tightens his grip on the child before rising to his suddenly jell-o like feet and runs to the horribly too still body. No. Please don't be dead.
"Kid!" Clint shouts his voice rising in his panic. Falling to his knee, holding the rescued child in his left arm, and grasps the teen's shoulder jerking his hand back almost as quickly. Pietro's body convulses forward and he gasps for breath.
"Pietro!"
Pietro doesn't answer, his eyes remaining open blankly and despite Clint's near death grip on his arm, the older Maximoff twin doesn't twitch a finger. With a quick glance, Clint's stomach clenches, the wounds are terrible. He's not going to make it.
"Hold on!" Clint begs to Pietro's unresponsive body. The older twin's eyes are open though, starting forward blankly.
Footsteps pound across the ground akin to someone being chased by a wild herd of rhinos and Clint jerks his head upwards as Steve comes to a skidding halt from his sprint. The older man's eyebrows shoot upward so high Clint fears for a moment they'll launch of his face.
"He took the bullets," Steve breathes.
Ultron touched him.
"Obviously." Clint hisses through his tightly clenched teeth. Steve looks at his shield lying a few feet away and Clint looks away from his leader's face. They might be able to get Pietro to help but if he has brain damage because the captain can't aim right then Clint is going after him with solely a curling iron and a stool leg.
Clint shoves the kid in his arms into Steve's two, then carefully rolls Pietro over. The teen's limbs move limply, like spaghetti noodles unsure what to do with themselves. Wanda. Where is Wanda? Is she still at the core? He needs to find Pietro's sister.
Pietro's quiet form looks up at him, emotionless and Clint slides his arms underneath Pietro's knees and his shoulders trying his best to avoid the injuries. A tangled scream slips out of the teen's throat and Clint pauses the tight clenching in his chest growing worse.
"I know it hurts, I'm sorry." He assures before pulling Pietro towards him. Pietro curls in towards him, even if subconsciously before going still, again.
It's not a body. Clint repeats the mantra over and over in his head.
It's not a body.
"Get him to ship." Steve commands, re-positioning the child in his care that's beginning to whine. Clint clenches the Maximoff to his chest like precious cargo, his stupor lasting only a moment longer before the Barton takes off in a sprint towards the last remaining ship.
000o000
Clint isn't sure if he should be angry, upset, or on a murder vengeance rage.
Right now, he's angry.
Pietro didn't have to be so stupid. Why did he do it? Why? Clint needs to know and judging from how the teen's vitals held out on their flight from the remains of Sokovia to Avengers Tower, he isn't going to get the chance to ask him.
His feet are burning a pattern into the ground outside the surgery room but he couldn't care less. Tony can buy new floor, but not a person. Pietro's been in surgery for over four hours now and he isn't the only one who's..angsty.
Steve is pacing too, along the other length of the wall, Tony is sitting on one of the chairs phone in hand as he taps away at something (Cint is sixty two percent sure he's texting Pepper), Thor is sitting in a chair next to Tony looking bone-tired and worn out. The Asgardian's leg suffered from the fall. Nothing serious but his standards but a dislocated and sprained ankle is still a injury.
Tony's chest is a mess of bruises and his back isn't much better. The nurse had to wrap him in the chair when the Stark refused to move from the spot threatening the nurse with a taser. Wanda is standing near the far corner her eyes moist and hands folded over her chest tightly. Natasha is standing next to her, face blank and stance calm but Clint knows her well enough to know that the woman is a raging storm buried beneath a calm sea.
Bruce, with some persuasion came back to help with the surgery and is currently in the room with Pietro that none of the surgeons have left over the last few hours. Clint's frustration is building.
Why do they still have no answers? Pietro didn't die and their trying to figure out a way to tell them and hide the body, right? No, Bruce wouldn't let them do that...right?
Clint begins to trek the ground faster, almost as if he's been tasked with sanding the ground with solely his boots. He can feel Tony's gaze resting on him watching him idly move from one end of the room to the other.
Beyond a few words of comfort to Wanda at the beginning of the long wait, no one has said anything. Admittedly, Clint is impressed that Tony has managed to keep his trap shut for so long. He's never known Tony to be a serious and silent person unless the situation is dire. Wanda's agitation is growing though, Clint can sense it from here.
He isn't sure what to do to help her feel better. Helping his team, Laura and the kids is second nature but this is like trying to learn a new language in less than an hour. He doesn't like it.
Natasha rests her hand on Wanda's shoulder and the Maximoff girl twitches slightly but forces herself to still. Clint makes note, confused, but turns anyway to resume his floor sanding.
Thor rests his hammer on the ground the metal making a soft thump as it lands. Thor pulls a stringy piece of sweaty hair away from his face taking a look at all of them for a moment. Clint sweeps his gaze away from the thunderer as Thor stares at him before Thor breaks the long unannounced agreement of silence. "Be at peace; many warriors have survived worse."
Clint comes to a halt his frustration exploding to dangerous levels. Thor is almost immortal. Of course he knows warriors who have survived worse. They heal with magic on Asgard.
"Yeah, like who, Goldilocks?" Tony retorts looking up from the phone irritation written across his face like a well paced novel. Clint's pretty sure his isn't much different.
"He's not a warrior. He's a kid." He says in frustration finally pausing his sanding as the two sentences jumble into one. The sounds blends funnily but Wanda's eyes blink rapidly, anyway.
Clint sighs and looks down at his clenched fists.
This isn't supposed to happen to them. The Maximoff's are good people, a little misguided, yeah, but they don't deserve this. Wanda's trying to hard not to fall apart and he doesn't know how to help her.
"Well, um, there is…" Thor's voice trails off in thought. And, as always, his amazing comforting skills shine through brightly. Tony snorts sarcastically.
"Yep, I feel much better now."
"He will be fine," Natasha presses as if she can command the universe with her voice. She eyes each of them carefully as if daring them to disagree. None of them do and Natasha gives a quick squeeze at Wanda's shoulder. Wanda's head raises and she shoves away from the older woman, making towards the room where the medics and Pietro are. She stands outside the door for a long moment as Clint did himself a little less than twenty minutes ago.
Wanda is completely still her eyes locked onto the door.
"I need to be in there with him." She murmurs softly. She raises a hand up and presses it against the glass of the door.
"You can't." Steve says softly. "We all want to be."
Yes. They do.
He knows he does. He's to the point of finding his remaining explosive arrows and blowing up the door then demanding they let him stay or he'll soak them all in used mop water.
"My brother is the only thing I have left." Wanda admits quietly, almost more to herself than the other Avengers. Her fingers press harder against the glass and Clint stops his pacing to stare at her. Her long brown hair is falling down her back in a messy tangle of knots that makes it seem like it's cut at an angle.
At her words, Clint sees Tony's face fall considerably from the corner of his eye before the Stark looks suddenly far more interested in his phone than he did before. Clint purses his lips. He isn't sure what the full story is of what happened to the twins but he knows it has something to do with Tony. He knows that the building collapsed but why is still a mystery. Tony works very hard to make himself seem cold and indifferent but he cares too much.
And if Pietro does, Wanda will have nothing, Tony knows this as much as he does.
Not her brother.
Her parents.
Her country.
Or her freedom. She's an enhanced now.
Clint stops, again, his fists clenched, and slams them into the wall; the sound makes a heavy thud and Clint's fingers rest there for a moment. Pietro is in there because of him. If he hadn't ran off to get the kid or been faster then everything would have been fine. They would have left with both twins on their feet instead one on and one with a stopping heart. "It should have been me."
Tony looks up from his phone again and meets Clint's eye with a slightly cold expression-or in the least degree, a heavily frustrated one. "You know, well we're playing the blame-game here, if I hadn't created Ultron, none of us would be in this mess." Tony says and resumes looking at his Stark-phone.
Wanda's eyes fall.
"I agree, let us blame Iron-locks," Thor says with a lighthearted tone. Tony scoffs which is all the proof Clint needs to know that Thor was trying to lighten the heavy mood and Tony's going to help him. Clint doesn't really want them to. It feels wrong to laugh when Pietro is dying.
Tony shoots Thor a pathetic death glare, "My hair looks much better than yours, Sir I-need-conditioner-and-shampoo-badly."
"You're both pretty, now be quiet," Natasha interrupts the argument before it can progress further and leans against her wall further folding her arms across her chest. Wanda's hand doesn't move from the glass on the door almost as if she can touch her brother and make everything okay again if she simply presses against the glass.
"Why? Us being silent doesn't make this any better." Tony argues.
Clint's legs suddenly can't hold his weight anymore and he slides against the wall collapsing to the ground and presses his back against the cold wall behind him. His fists are still clenched tightly and his head hangs slightly.
If he'd just dived out of the way or made Pietro stay with his sister then he wouldn't be dying. They lost him, twice on the journey from Sokovia to New York. Tony was insistent that they get him to Avenger's Tower where he has the most advanced medical equipment. His heart had stopped when he saw Pietro tumble, but watching Wanda fall to her knees in the agony of losing her brother before murmuring soft words to him and attempting to calm him by running her shaking hand through his hair was terrible.
The flight hadn't been much better. She'd sat next to Pietro gripping his hand tightly as the medics worked with what they had there looking pale and like she was going to throw up. He'd called Laura after about two hours in and they'd talked for almost an hour as she tried to assure him that it wasn't his fault and asked if he wanted her to come down from the farm. He wanted her too, admittedly, she's better at dealing with this sort of stuff than he is but he said no.
Wanda slides down next to him suddenly and Clint tenses lifting his face up to stare at the pale teen as she gives a tight smile that immediately crumples as she meets his gaze. One wet tear slides down her cheeks followed by another and Clint forces his muscles to relax and hesitates for a moment before awkwardly wrapping his arm around the younger Maximoff.
Wanda stills before leaning into the embrace and starts to cry, burying her face into Clint's shoulder to mask the ugly sobs. Clint just holds her tighter and runs his hand through the tangled weave of knots. Clint looks up as after a few seconds Tony stands up his face resembling someone who was sitting on something incredibly sharp then told to not react. His eyes linger on the sobbing girl for a moment before he points down the hall in answer to his teammates questioning stares.
"I, uh, suit-lab-hair. I'm going to find the kitchen."
Steve raises an eyebrow coming to a small pause as he folds his arms across his chest and stares at the billionaire for a moment. "This is your tower."
Tony shrugs as he walks away shoving his hand into his pockets, posture tense, "Yeah, well sometimes I forget...where...stuff is."
Yeah. Sure.
Thor also looks uncomfortable suddenly and grabs his hammer pulling himself to his feet before and adding, "Some substance might do us good," he then starts to follow the billionaire dubbed Iron-locks.
Somewhere close to an hour passes in silence, the only thing feeling the air being Wanda's gasping breaths that have quieted considerably over the last ten. She's shifted slightly from her original position, turning her body so she's facing straight. Her eyes are red and puffy and she doesn't look any better than she did before she started.
The knot in Clint's stomach is clenching tighter.
Steve is quiet his face twisted in thought before he drums his fingers across his folded arm. He glances at Clint several times before exhaling,"Wanda, maybe you need a second out of the tower." Steve suggests.
Ha, ha-no.
He's already almost lost one twin, he's not losing another one. He trusts Steve, he really does he's just paranoid right now. All he really wants to do is make Pietro heal quickly then wrap both of them in bubble wrap before carrying them to his farm to keep safe. Laura knows how to use a gun and he's trained her a little when she asked so they'll be fine when he has to go out on missions.
When did he get so attached?
He's not.
It's guilt.
Wanda tenses beside him and she raises her large grey eyes to Steve's face looking ready to argue from now to the next century or so. Clint will help her.
"Pietro might-" she pauses taking a forced breath.
Die.
Clint finishes her sentence in his head.
Pietro might die and she won't be there for it.
"I need to be here when the surgery ends." She says firmly.
Natasha sighs and stands up from the chair she moved to around half an hour ago. Clint looks up at her. She hasn't been very talkative since...it happened. She's not typically a talk your ear off person like Tony unless she's comfortable. Natasha leans down in front of Wanda's ghost-like form her short red hair falling in front of her face."Listen, Kid, you aren't doing yourself or your brother any good here. You can either willing go on a walk with Steve or I'll personally drag you to the kitchen. Your choice."
Clint resists the urge to protest and bites his tongue. The surgery was scheduled to last about twelve hours and their only a little less than halfway through. It's been a long two days though.
Wanda blinks before nodding several times before shakily getting to her feet, Clint pulls his hand back to rest on his lap and watches her rise to her feet. She looks ready to promptly collapse and Clint's brain scrambles for the last time he remembers they ate. Not once during the flight or since they got here. When Wanda gets back, he'll drag her to the kitchen along with everyone else. Actually, he'll drag Natasha there now.
"Fresh air would be nice." Wanda says softly. Her voice has been so quiet, almost like she's afraid that if she speaks to loudly she'll break something.
"Clint or I will get you whenever the doctors come out," Natasha says and holds up her cell. "I have Steve's number."
Clint whips head head towards the leader in surprise. Steve has a phone? Since when? He isn't big on them. He only agreed to the earpieces so he could communicate with them. Tony must've given it to him. It's the only way Clint can see Steve actually getting one.
Wanda moves forward stiffly towards the Avenger and Steve sends Clint a look of reassurance (huh, guess his expression wasn't as blank as he attempted it to be) before guiding Wanda out of the room and down the hall with an abnormal amount of windows. When Clint asked about it, Tony merely shrugged with a knowing look and said, "Windows don't hurt as much." It took him nearly a minute to decipher what the billionaire meant. To get thrown through. Clint's not sure if he agrees or not. Natasha sits down next him and stretches her legs out across the ground looking like the definition of exhausted. It's been a few days since any of them got more than a few minutes of sleep.
Natasha rolls her head across the wall towards him, "You should get some sleep, I can wait."
Clint shakes his head, "I'm fine."
She raises a single eyebrow an expression that Clint has know as shut up and listen else you get a gun against your head. "It's not your fault; you couldn't have known."
Clint sighs, "I should have."
000o000
Steve is pretty sure that Wanda hasn't left Sokovia in her life. When they finally make it out of the tower, Wanda's head swivels upwards trying to take in all the sights at once. She doesn't spin, just stands in wonder for a moment her face finally resembling the seventeen year old she is. Sokovia wasn't the richest planet on the planet before it blew up and Steve can't help but give a small sympathetic smile. She reminds him of himself after he woke up from his coma and escaped the S.H.I.E.L.D base. It wasn't an easy adjustment.
Steve moves forward through the city with the younger girl trailing after him looking heavily like a lost kitten. They both probably look like they got run over by multiple buses then decided to go cut roses but fell in them.
No words are spoken between them, they just walk.
Steve shrugs on the jacket he's wearing over his suit more as the chill air starts to seep into his skin. Wanda doesn't look like she minds but after a little longer Steve gradually becomes aware that she's staring at him and isn't stopping.
Steve turns his head to meet her gaze and gives her a skeptical look, "What?"
Wanda flushes and looks away, wringing her hands in embarrassment. She pauses for a moment before looking up at him again, "Sorry, it's just...you don't look ninety."
"You don't look seventeen yourself," he answers with half a smile. He's not sure if that's a good thing, Pietro and Wanda act like their in their twenties, not barely the end of their teenagehood.
Wanda gives a tight one in return, "Pietro would have liked the city." Her voice is slightly wistful and Steve's stomach clenches at her word choice, "would" not "will".
"Don't give up on him, don't." Steve says firmly. He's not giving up on Bucky so she's not giving up on her brother. Despite how much the odds seem against their respective siblings surviving or being found. Bucky is his brother and even if he's missing, Steve is going to find him. Wanda's eyes sweep downwards in frustration and her eyes grow moist again.
"I'm not." Wanda insists, but still doesn't meet his gaze. "I just...I can feel him slipping and I'm terrified. What do I do if he falls?" Her eyebrows meet in her distress and she looks up at him eyes wide. Seventeen. Steve just can't wrap his head around that. Yeah, he lied on his enlistment papers and Peggy lied on hers but that was different.
"If he can feel you in the same way, then you can't think that way, don't give up hope, you hang onto him even if he lets go."
Wanda bites her lip heavily. "I will try."
Steve opens his mouth to respond but the comment is halted as a fist smashes against the back of his head. Steve jerks forward, less so much pain more surprise as Wanda whirls with a sharp yelp jumping backwards. Steve whips his head upwards looking at their surroundings and inwardly kicking himself. He'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed that they were out for so long or wandering into the more empty parts of the city.
Hopefully it's just a mugger, he can handle a mugger. Wanda's eyes are wide and her fingers tinged red and a protective surge rushes through him.
Steve spins and grabs the fist out of the air that was swinging towards his head again, his fingers wrapping around the knuckle. His eyes meet his attackers, a man dressed in full black with a red symbol sewn into the left shoulder.
"Ouch." He says, more out of annoyance than real pain. The blow should have knocked out any regular person and likely would have killed a normal ninety year old man. Men emerge from the streets and shadows dressed in full black with the red symbol stitched to their clothing, surrounding them.
Well, great.
He left his shield at the tower.
The man glares sharply at him before bringing his feet into a jump and kicking Steve in the stomach. Pain shoots across his abdomen and he grits his teeth as he launches backwards doubling over. What did they make their flipping boots out of? Metal!?
His hand wraps around the abused area as the men draw guns.
Even better.
A few of the men towards the front fire their weapons and Steve shouts a warning before grabbing Wanda and dragging her down to the ground with him. The bullets hit the building behind them, digging into the cement. What is going on!? Ultron was destroyed, Vision is currently sweeping the earth for any remains of him. Who are they?
Steve lets out a grunt as his chest hits the ground and he lifts his head up before a boot meets his face again. Seriously, what is it with his head!? Steve hisses in pain before rolling to his feet and lifts his hands up into fists his eyes raising to meet those of his attackers.
The man who kicked his face's eyes narrow and Steve glances at Wanda whose getting to her feet, her hands glowing with the red hue.
The second of distraction is all the man needs, with several practiced moves, the attacker has Steve's face pressed against the cement. Something presses against his shoulder, almost like the tip of a dagger and pain explodes through the area, his vision blurs everything spinning. That can't be good.
The pain is pulsing with every beat of his heart and he can't focus on anything else. His muscles are lax and everything else is swimming. Echoing, yet he can't hear it.
Wanda calls his name but he can't respond.
Wanda.
Come on, Steve.
Get. Up.
Someone kicks his chest again and Steve curls inwards subconsciously. Wanda shouts something else and someone screams near by. What is she doing? Red flies through what he can make out of his hazy vision and blurs are moving everywhere. Steve struggles to work with limbs frustration pulsing through him.
He's a super soldier. He's not supposed to go down this easy.
With some effort he manages to get to his hands and knees and his heart skips a beat as Wanda lets out a blood curling scream of pain. Steve whips his head up to see someone with draw a dagger of some sort from her back, crackling with electricity. Wanda's body goes lax and she falls forward only to be grabbed by their hunters.
Oh.
That's what hit him. It must be some sort of temporary paralysis knife.
Steve.
He has to get up, he has to get to Wanda, he has to-move, move, move.
His vision is still spinning but it is pulling back. "Wanda!" He shouts and she doesn't answer. His panic builds, "Wanda!"
One of the men looks back at him and tosses something at him and Steve's eyes widen as the ball rolls towards him but his muscles still aren't moving as he wants them to. Hyrda's crest meets his gaze with a sick cheer before smoke leaks from the edges of the ball. Steve whips his spinning head upwards to look for the attackers but he can't see anything as the smoke covers the entire area.
His limbs are still shaking.
He has to help her.
He rises to his feet and everything spins with such speed he almost topples forward. He can't see anything.
"Wanda!" He shouts.
No answer.
Kittens.
Steve's shaky hands dig into his jacket pocket searching for the phone he knows Tony shoved into it a few hours before. He doesn't typically carry the device around with him, but Tony had insisted. Steve flips it open cursing slightly as the bright light shines up at him happily despite the confusing buttons playing across it. The light is blinding and in no way, helps his headache. This is why he doesn't tangle with technology unless he has to.
He had a phone he used for a while, but he broke it and Tony's technology is amazingly advanced above anything the public has. Steve jams in the first number he sees and presses call, or he's pretty sure it's call (he's not sure with how everything is blurring) and puts the phone against his ear. It rings.
And rings.
And rings.
If someone doesn't pick up, he's going to be the one lecturing about devices not Stark, "Steve?" Natasha's voice meets his ear like a rainbow on a cloudy day. Relief crashes through him.
"Nat, we have a problem." Steve says his brain suddenly scrambling for something profound to say. Problem is the only thing he can come up with. "Hey, I lost Wanda." Yup, that's going to go over well. His head is spinning and everything is blurry. Is it supposed to be? No-yes? No that doesn't sound right. Wanda. They have to help her Hydra-they-
"What's going on?" Clint's voice calls in the background.
Steve stills.
Clint it going to murder him, slowly, painfully, with a snow globe or something else entirely harmless to a normal person.
...If Wanda's screams of pain echoing in his head don't do it first.