Chapter 3

Chapter Summary:

The team is not yet whole, for all they work toward it. Teambuilding exercises are sometimes fun, and tracking down lost friends necessary, and Pietro still does not understand what Wanda means of minds.

Things are peaceful awhile.

While the others are still uncertain, from what Wanda can tell, they do not question them. Every night the twins bed down together, in separate beds, and hold hands in the gap between. Every day they train, knowing where the other is placed instinctively, and ever ready to react. At one point the Captain suggests they spar against each other, only to find them perfectly matched. Wanda's tricks can halt her brother, and no matter how fast Pietro can go he would never strike her.

Colonel Rhodes tells them they at least should try, in case one of them gets affected by another sceptre. Together they refuse.

"Besides," Wanda says. "Where one of us goes, the other will inevitably follow."

The Vision smiles at that, but to the others it is no such comfort.

Pietro still finches when he thinks Wanda is in danger. By now, with his speed, it is barely visible to most people, but it still happens. From the first time someone raised a hand to Wanda, to any battles now, he is at her side, and he is ready to step in. He knows she lost him, and she brought him back. He does not think it would work the other way.

(When someone raises a gun near Pietro, Wanda's hands go red. She has talked to Sam about it, asking if there are ways to not immediately try to fight at the sight of it, but for all Sam wishes he could use his guns without risk of friendly fire the reflex shows no sign of fading.)

Sometimes, in the evening, Wanda tries to show Pietro how she found him. He does not completely understand – the mind is her domain after all – but he does not care. His sister is shining when she tells him how she did it, happy and beautiful, and he cannot bring himself to ask her to stop.

One evening, Wanda notices the odd tilt of his mind.

Pietro?

With practice they have made the bridge between their minds clearer. It was suggested by Vision, outside of training, and they have practiced assiduously. No longer can they only see through each other's eyes, and pass emotions and ideas between themselves. Now they can speak, mind-to-mind even when waking, if they focus enough.

Wanda picked it up fastest.

Pietro blinks, and assures her it is nothing.

Wanda frowns. You can tell me, if something is the matter.

Pietro is quiet for a few moments. He does not think he should mention many of the observations he has made, and he is certain that some of them Wanda has already made herself. She settles against him, leans her head against his shoulder, and he lifts a hand to stroke her hair.

"I thanked Vision the other day, for saving you, and bringing me back to life."

He knows Wanda's eyes are closed as he begins to braid her hair. And? She asks.

"I thanked him for not asking how we are, as the others have. I think he thinks we should talk to the others about it. That they would understand if we explained."

Wanda gives a small hum, and shifts how she is sitting. "We should wait. When they realise how wrong they are they'll be more sorry if we do not fill in the gaps for them. Besides, I do not think it will matter soon."

Wanda's hair moves in the gust of air from Pietro's huffed laugh. You are sure?

Yes.

One evening, after training, the twins find the others settled in a circle. Some of the medics are there, and most of the team. Stark is there too, with a large (very large) bottle of vodka. They are waved over, and take seats opposite on one of the sofas. They've not had cause to sit on the sofas much, preferring to stay in their rooms, the kitchen, or training. They are surprisingly comfortable.

Pietro glances around the circle, but it is Wanda who asks, and the Widow who answers.

"Stark wants us to play 'Never Have I Ever'. He claims it's a 'Team Bonding Exercise'."

The fingerquotes she gives it get an "Aww, Nat" from Stark, and the rest of the circle laughs as shot glasses are distributed.

"What are the rules?"

Stark looks aghast, and Clint explains. "Everyone takes a turn to say something they've not done, and anyone who has done the thing has to drink. It's an excuse to get very, very drunk."

Cap grabs the bottle from Stark, and starts.

"Never have I ever," he says, in a tone that suggests he's already endured this 'Team Bonding Exercise' before, "become paranoid because of The Communist Manifesto."

Stark slams his glass onto the coffee table, and beckons for the bottle. He quickly downs his shot, and, cuddling the bottle, thinks of his turn.

"Never have I ever…" the trailing off sounds intentional, until the pause goes on for half a minute. Nat pokes him with her toe. "Never have I ever been so offended."

Natasha laughs, Clint nearly rolls over backwards, and Rhodes, Sam and Cap all drink. The bottle goes to Natasha.

She stares straight ahead, at the wall over Rhodes' head as she speaks, tone innocent. "Never have I ever fallen off a ten story building, landed on a truck, been so concussed I thought I was a sausage roll, and almost rolled onto the subway tracks."

Everyone laughs at this, and, petulantly, Clint takes the bottle and pours himself a shot, grumbling under his breath, before taking it.

"Damn you, Nat."

He rolls the bottle between his feet before smiling wickedly. "Never have I ever… used secret mission proceedings to get a friend drunk."

Natasha concedes this, and takes her shot, and the monstrosity of a bottle gets passed to Vision. As yet the twins have drunk nothing.

Vision is quiet, in his peaceful way, before speaking.

"Never have I ever," he says, face peaceful, smile beatific, "had sex."

The circle groans and beckoning fingers beg the bottle, passing it around until it reaches the twins, on Vision's other side. They pass it back to Vision.

Stark looks shocked. "You two? You've never?"

Pietro and Wanda shrug. Wanda speaks. "It wasn't interesting to us."

Stark sputters but Sam speaks. "Some people don't need sex like you do Stark. Not everyone is a nymphomaniac."

Cap looks incredibly awkward, as Vision passes the bottle to Wanda. "So you two… you're not…?"

Pietro rolls his eyes, and speaks, "We are not in an incestuous relationship. We can be close and not be fucking." He drawls out the profanity, making the point. "Ask Clint or Natasha."

The two in question shrug, and eyes turn to Wanda. She plays with the metal ribbon the cap left on the bottle neck, spinning it around. "Never have I ever played this game before."

The groans repeat and Stark makes a complaint about "kids ruining the fun". Pietro glances at Wanda as he takes his turn, and his grin is huge.

"Never have I ever sounded like such an old man."

The twins do not drink much that evening. Only twice, when the points were oddly sombre ("Never have I ever done something stupidly reckless and been enhanced" from Stark and "Never have I ever purposefully destroyed sentient tech" from one of the medics), and so they are clearheaded as they return to their rooms.

Others pass them in the hall, waving and calling good night, and the twins slip into bed, holding hands in the gap between their beds. It is as Pietro drifts into sleep he realises how Wanda was right. It doesn't matter now what the others think of them.

When Natasha thinks she has finally found where Banner is they are, all of them, mobilised. It's in the middle of nowhere and there have been reports of a giant monster in the woods. With or without permission Thunderbolt Ross has decided to move in, and none of them would let Bruce end up in that man's hands.

They are met, at the forest, by Betty Ross.

She eyes the twins warily, but nods to Natasha. "Thank you for telling me."

The Widow nods. "Do you think you can distract your father while we go in?"

Betty nods. "I'm not letting Dad catch Bruce. Last time…" her voice is soft, and almost shakes. "I'm not letting Bruce go through that again. You'll get him out?"

Natasha nods, "We'll get him out. Thank you."

Betty leaves, rattling down the trail in a battered rental truck, and they start to arrange how they'll go in. The monster has only been seen in the mountain, and only in glimpses. None of the reports have a colour, just dirty, big, and angry, and they aren't even sure if it's Hulk.

Stark points out that Ross is going after it, and Natasha nods. "That's why I think it's him."

Most of the way they go in trucks. S.H.I.E.L.D. is helping them, what there is of it, but only they make the journey. Only they are really close enough to the Hulk to bring him out, for all other agents have fought beside the big green monster.

As they climb the mountain, they realise they may be late.

Trees have been cleared ahead of them, and a moving perimeter set up. Ross is ready, and he brought out the big guns.

Pietro and Hawkeye are designated the scouts, and head out. Pietro refuses to carry Hawkeye, but offers him a piggyback ride, hauling the archer through most of the woods until they find the most recent tracks. Then Pietro sprints back, and grabs Wanda.

Tracks, they had all decided, only meant so much with trees as large as these. Hulk could climb, would climb, did climb, if the Battle of New York was anything to go by, and Wanda's skill with minds was as necessary to track him down, as Natasha's skill with the Lullaby was to calm him. Wanda stood in a clearing, and sent out scarlet feelers.

It took time for the others to make their way up the mountain. The track was incomplete, parts flooded or blocked by trees, and other parts intersected by Ross' encampment. It took time enough that Ross found them before they got there.

Wanda's scarlet light danced through the forest. Danced up trees, round bushes, and sought out the living. Animals it passed by, plants it ignored, humans it made sleep. It sought the big, and the green. It sent out a crimson pulse, as fine as to be visible to Wanda and to Pietro, but not many else. Pietro sprinted for it.

Through the distance Wanda closed her eyes to see better through her brother's. She could not use her powers through her brother, but she could tell him how to Lullaby, if it came to it. Hawkeye was scouting elsewhere, trying to find the others. She did not notice when Ross arrived.

Pietro found Hulk easily. He was huge, and green, even under the dirt, and it did not take much for him to tease the creature down the mountainside, and toward where Wanda and Clint waited. Pietro was glad for his speed, as they descended. He did not think he could keep up with Hulk's pace otherwise, nor avoid the occasional hurled branches.

Wanda was waiting for them, in the clearing. Eyes still shut, scarlet dancing around her hands, she faced off into the woods. Behind her stood Ross. Pietro did not have time to call out as Ross fired a weapon.

The blue light went skimming past Wanda, ripped through her coat, through her armour, through her side, and only their speed saved Pietro and the Hulk. Hulk launched himself into the trees, then battered down on Ross and his men. Pietro ran to his sister.

Blood. Blood on her skin, her clothes, on the ground and on his hands. He reached toward their bridge and found it fraying, and tore through their bond toward his sister's mind.

Wanda. Wanda stay with me, Wanda please, Wanda please.

He was not a medic. He was not Banner. All he could do was apply pressure, and hope. In his sister's mind he looked for the fading light and gave it his own, cradled it together, and tried to keep her present. He took her pain from her and felt her mind curl into his. It was agony.

A large fingered green hand entered his vision, and Pietro looked up. Behind Hulk Ross' men had scattered. Ross himself was pinned to a tree with seat belts ripped from the vehicles, and then several vehicles for good measure. The weapons were crushed. The Hulk's face was tentative.

Pietro uncurled from around his sister, and with a simple movement Hulk picked her up. Pietro didn't know what Hulk meant to do, but knew what the others said, what the record reported. The mind was his sister's domain, but he had learned to read actions. The Hulk knew when people meant him harm, and knew when he could help.

He followed Hulk, hurtling through the forest, and hurtled behind him.

The encampment was armed, but Hulk did not appear to care. When shots were fired Pietro plucked them from the air, when guns were reloaded Pietro removed the firing pins. Hulk crashed through the tents and trucks, and headed for the one marked with the big, red cross.

The tent was not big enough for the Hulk, so he ducked, and Pietro ran three circuits through the encampment, disarming every weapon he found, and joined them. Betty could not believe her eyes. Across the table, where Wanda had been set, Hulk stumbled back, crumpled to the ground, and shrank down into Banner. Pietro passed him a doctor's coat, and, together, Bruce and Betty set to work healing Wanda.

Wanda stay with me, Wanda please.

They turned at the sound of gunfire, and headed toward the encampment. Over comms Natasha directed Clint in, and above them all Sam and Vision flew. Vision could see more clearly than them all, and dropped silently into the baffled base.

"Where is the General?"

Soldiers shrugged, and one pointed into the woods. With a few words over comms Vision informed Stark and Falcon, and they headed off to search them out.

"What happened?"

"Big-"

"Green-"

"Silver streak-"

"This girl in Hulk's arms-"

"They're in medical."

The last was the most coherent and Vision nodded thanks. It took only a moment for him to fly to the tent.

Pietro was sat by the table where Wanda lay. He sat at the head, out of the way, and held Wanda's hand as gently as one might hold something delicate. Doctors Banner and Ross worked around them, passing sutures and antiseptic and rolls of bandage, carefully treating the huge singed gash on Wanda's side. Pietro's head was bowed, and Vision could see the play of his mind.

The bridge between them was bright. It was what he had first noticed about them when he met them, their mental bridge. Scarlet at her end, silver-blue at his, and mingling in soft greys in between. It was also, as he watched, fading.

He remembered the battle, and how Wanda had looked when he had gone to take her from the rock. The threads of her bond to her brother were frayed lose from her head, scarlet tatters waving in some imperceptible wind. He wonders, sadly, if he will see it happen again, see silver-blue tatters floating free from Pietro's scalp, and looks more closely.

Between them Bruce and Betty work quickly, and set down bandages. Wanda is unconscious, from pain, from tranquilisers, from painkillers, and Pietro's free hand skims over Wanda's brow.

Vision can see the darting thought that goes from his mind to his sister's.

Wanda, stay with me, Wanda please.

Their bridge is fading. Around him the threads of it are falling loose, and Pietro vaguely wonders if the weapon was based on Chitauri tools. He discards the thought, and watches the bridge more closely. The bridge was a construct of his sister's, a testing mechanism after she had first realised her gifts. Pietro realises then, that it needs his input, if it is to stay whole.

Pulling from his mind he takes his thoughts, swifter than a loom shuttle, and weaves between the anchoring threads of the bridge. Where the threads have gone thin and frayed loose he weaves his own, blue and silver and grey. Where the gulf is too wide he pulls liquid emotion from his mind, silver worry, mercurial concern, lightning-white anger, and weaves that in too.

The emotions pool, forming wide discs in the bridge, mirroring back his face, his sister's face, their parent's faces. The thread frames them, pulling taut gaping edges, and he ventures through the stabilised bridge, and tries to wake his sister.

Wanda? Wanda, please.

By the time the others arrive Wanda has reached a semi-conscious state. She is not well enough to be moved, not by the trucks, and though her brother offered his blood for what she had lost they had no tubes for transfusion. Pietro holds her hand, and says nothing.

"We can call in a Quinjet, but it might take time." Natasha is all efficiency, helping them decide what works best.

"Vision could fly her out, to a hospital?" Clint's suggestion is simple, but Vision shakes his head.

"A buffet of wind could hurt her worse. Besides, I do not think her brother would wish to be parted from her right now."

They glance to the twins. Pietro ignores them in favour of his sister. Wanda is barely awake.

Pietro wants to pace, wants to hold his sisters hand, wants to give his blood to Wanda, so its speed can help her heal. He wants to punch Thunderbolt Ross until he is nothing but a bloody smear, and he wants to hold his sister without it causing her pain. Within him, anger simmers.

Wanda's hand is gentle on his. Her fingers ill-coordinated and occasionally sparking a comforting spray of scarlet over Pietro's hand. In the bridge between their minds her mental form is fuzzy, but there, and she curls in the arms of Pietro's mental form, and looks at what he wrought on their bridge.

It's beautiful.

You think so? I thought our colours clash.

Pietro's mental voice was teasing, the only thing he could easily be when so worried. In the physical world another spray of scarlet spread from Wanda's fingers.

It's perfect. And it kept the bridge in place. It would have killed me if the bridge broke again.

Pietro says nothing, knowing Wanda is perfectly sincere. The last time the bridge broke he had died, and with Wanda so injured it would be a simple thing for her to give up life.

And that is the end of this one! Reviews are much appreciated!