TC Stark: I am so, so happy at all the favs, follows, and reviews! ^^ Thank you guys! Please continue telling me how you feel about the story, I love feedback. And I hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

Disclaimer: If anyone has read my "Whatever Time We Have Left" story, I am reusing Tilda. I found with that story that I never developed her properly, so I'm revamping her - giving her a fresh coat of wax and throwing her into this story. Also, as much as I love the Cap, I've realized (in my head) she is much better suited in this AU, as this is a Pietro/OC story (with small parts of Cap/Black Widow because they're my OTP). This story is rated M for mature content, such as sex, violence, death, language, etc. I try not to ever be too vulgar, but also don't believe in censorship. This story deals with the serious issues of a fatal medical condition, so there's that. I do not own anyone, except Tilda and my ideas.

Chapter Three

A few days had gone by in the Avengers facility. Not much really had happened. Tilda had heard some rumors floating around, particularly from Sam Wilson; about some new guy around who liked to call himself...Antman? The nicknames these superheroes gave themselves were just getting stranger everyday.

Tilda found herself hooked up to a monitoring system, as Bruce had her gently jogging on a treadmill. Being under the supervision of medical physicians was something she was used to. When you were an experiment yourself, laboratory visits were a normal occurrence. If there was something she had come to know about scientists; they were never shy about their curiosity about how far they could push a human's capabilities.

"Do you want to take a break?" Bruce asked, a tablet showing her vital signs in hand.

The tattooed agent gave a small shrug, slowing down until coming to a complete stop. Bruce moved forward to help with removing the cords off of Tilda's torso. As comfortable as she seemed to be around him, the doctor could see her green eyes constantly watched his hands, cautious about how relaxed she chose to be with what he was doing.

A small knock against the wall turned both heads towards the direction, Tilda squaring her shoulders when seeing it was Pietro. They hadn't spoken since that incident at the cafeteria - purposely keeping her distance from him. If he was going to be that touchy and forward, she didn't much feel like having him around.

"Pietro, you're early." Bruce pointed out, looking down at his watch.

Awkwardly shrugging, he leaned to one side while explaining, "Oh, I am? I did not know, I could leave. Oh, hello, Tilda, I no see you there."

Seeing the tension clear between the two, Bruce shifted awkwardly and made up some excuse that he needed to step out for a moment. The doctor never did too well in uncomfortable situations - which, could have been a good reason as to why he and Natasha never worked out. It just felt too strange and he didn't want to remain in that kind of environment - it didn't bode well for his condition.

With just the two alone, Tilda reached for her zip up sweater and pulled it on herself. She was giving him the cold shoulder and perhaps Pietro was imagining it, but all the sharp objects in the room suddenly seemed to be turned on him. First his sister, now this woman. He sincerely hoped they didn't get anyone else who could control things with their minds.

"Tilda, I meant no harm," Pietro finally came out with it, "I understand perhaps, you do not like being touched. It..brings up bad memories. I was not aware. But, I would not hurt you - I am, ugh...harmless, like puppy."

Tilda wanted to snap at him. Wanted to yell and tell him that his apology was half-assed and not accepted. She wanted to tell him he had no idea about the bad memories that plagued her. How she was just a doomed soul on death row, waiting for whenever her body decided to give out on her. How instead of being brought up by loving parents, hers only brought her into this world to be an experiment. How there was no physical contact with them, except for the trials they put her through.

But, Pietro was so clueless and sincere that she felt she couldn't be mad at him. Even though every instinct in her was telling her to be. Sighing, Tilda stuck her hands in her sweater pockets and pointed out, "Well, with that mop on top of your head, you look like a puppy."

A wide grin pulled at Pietro's mouth, his eyes glimmering in gratitude of her forgiveness. Excitedly stepping forward, he offered, "This good. It's no fun being mad, yes? You're done here? Maybe we can go for walk - it is beautiful out. Or swim. Or maybe that is inappropriate? You tell me."

Tilda was beginning to think he was called the speedster for some other reason; his accent making it a little difficult for her to understand. But, it was adorable at the same time, so she shrugged, "I needed new boots. Does going shopping sound appealing to you?"

"Yes! I need new clothes as well. I will go get my wallet."

Before Tilda was able to say anything, Pietro was gone in a flash - a streak of blue and silver left in his wake. Only about three seconds had passed, before he was back in front of her with a wallet in hand. She had to say, superspeed did sound like a pretty cool ability - she wondered if Hydra had specifically given him that power, or it just happened to be what transpired?

Reluctant to burst his bubble, Tilda smirked, "That's great...but, I have to get my wallet."

"So, how's the ticking time bomb?"

It had been late into the night that Tony Stark decided to grace Bruce Banner with his presence. After having seen that Pietro and Tilda had left his lab, the doctor had gone back to his safe place to continue his work. He was pretty sure the two had made up; he hoped at least. Tensions amongst the Avengers wasn't exactly an ideal situations; considering they all had unique set of skills and the Hulk could emerge if poked at enough.

Groaning, Bruce looked up from his microscope and took off his glasses, "You know that's very insensitive."

Tony shrugged, bouncing a stress ball back and forth between his hands, "Come on, I've done the reading - girl is on a fast track to nowhere's land. How's her cells looking?"

"Not good," Bruce sighed, "Brain function is still at full capacity, but her body can't hold her. I think those scientists were wrong for giving her ten years...I don't even want to say how long. Could be that, could be in a month. How am I going to tell her that?"

With a shrug, Tony began fooling around with a few screens in the lab while commenting, "She seems okay with it."

"Who is really okay with dying? Even if we say we are - there's always a part of us that isn't."

"Hey, she has it good here. Free meals, big swimming pool, great scenery. Great place to spend your last few years in, and all she has to deal with is a few nosebleeds." The man behind Ironman waved off. It would be easy to think that Tony didn't have a heart, but Bruce knew that talking like he didn't care about others was the only way he could deal with all the insecurities he had.

Pushing the rolling chair away from the table, Bruce sighed and explained, "For now she has nosebleeds, but as she breaks down it will get much worse. Loss of eyesight, organs shutting down - it's going to be an extremely painful death."

Tony let out a small snort, while leaning against one of the tables, "Guess Stygar isn't getting father of the year award. Hey, why does Fury care so much that we look into this?"

"Because no other scientist has been able to extend her life any further or been able to cure her," Standing up, Bruce tried to reason, "Because it's the right thing to do, Tony. We are different. In every way to normal society. And we have done a lot of good, but we have also done a lot of bad. Property damage alone, look at the twins. If it weren't for you, their parents wouldn't have died and they wouldn't have volunteered themselves for some crazed Hydra experiment. Because of us, Ultron existed. There is a lot of collateral damage on our heads. This is our chance to help someone, without any outside risks."

It was important for Bruce to feel helpful. As much as the Hulk was an asset, he knew that the green monster was unpredictable. During their time with the Ultron problems, they destroyed a lot. Sure, they possibly saved the world, but for many people, whose houses they damaged, their worlds would never be the same. It didn't matter that this girl would probably die and it would weigh heavy on the scientist's conscious. He just needed to feel useful.

And because Tony had come to think of Bruce as one of his closest friends, he nodded, "Alright, let's get cracking, shall we? I haven't had a good project in a while - hopefully this one won't go crazy and try to kill some small country near Russia."

"Your optimism is always welcomed, Tony."

"Those boots, very badass."

After an actually very enjoyable shopping spree, Pietro and Tilda walked back into the Avengers facility. The Maximoff twin was referring to her steel toed boots, adding, "Though, it would be bad if there was someone with the ability to control metal."

Tilda held her shopping bag over her shoulder, looking at him oddly, "There's no one with an ability like that."

"No one that we know. But, up till year ago, no one knew someone like my abilities existed." Pietro argued.

With a hand on her hip, the telekinetic nodded, "Okay, fair point, Speedy. I still like them though. And it's good you got shoes that weren't sneakers."

Proudly looking down at his new shoes, Pietro grinned, "Nice, right? Sleek. Will really attract the ladies, no?"

"I think that funny little accent of yours might do the trick."

Though it came off faintly critical, Pietro could tell Tilda was attempting to kid around. The Sokovian smiled at her, happy they were getting to know each other. Growing up, he admittedly did not have many friends. There were always people around, whom he worked with on not so respectable jobs, but no one really who he could call friend. Just Wanda, who was more than good enough. But, this was also good. He was happy.

"Shopping, Tilda?" Natasha smirked, coming up to the duo.

Shrugging, Tilda smirked, "I am a woman, right? That's what that species does?"

Natasha's full lips pulled up into a smile, her sultry voice cooing, "For steel toed boots - of course."

"For our slumber parties of course." Tilda laughed sarcastically.

Pietro Maximoff was a nice person. Though hotheaded at times, he was kind and welcoming. But, he had never really spent one on one time with anyone else other than his sister and maybe Clint. So, Natasha was intrigued to see that the two had seemingly spent the afternoon together. She was even more so tickled to see that Quicksilver's eyes had not moved away from looking at Tilda the whole time.

Finally noticing Natasha smirking knowingly at him, Pietro cleared his throat, "I should be getting going, I am starving. So much walking around today. My stomach," He held his abdomen, "I will see you later, Beruska."

Before he was able to speed off, Tilda put up a hand, "Whoa, what does beruska mean?"

"It is a term for endearment," The Black Widow teased, "For a dainty flower."

Eyes practically cutting Pietro, Tilda yelled, "I am not a dainty flower!"

Scared, Pietro held his hands up and looked desperately at Natasha, "No, no, it does not mean dainty flower. It means ladybug," Pointing to a part on her inner bicep, he referred to the tattoo she had, "See? I saw it amongst the rest of the sleeve. Perhaps you like them, I thought it was good nickname. I no use it again."

Truthfully, she hadn't been angry. Tilda knew Natasha had a flair for teasing and that she was using her knowledge of the Slavic languages to yank her chain. It probably seemed strange for someone who was so heavily inked to have something like ladybug tattooed on her, which was most of the reason why she had it on her inner bicep. It was only for her. To remind her of how she used to look at them as a young girl and admire how beautiful she thought they were. How beautiful she had wanted to be. Pietro had noticed it and even decided to give her a nickname because of it - for some reason she found that sweet.

"Okay, you're off the hook," Tilda told him, relieving Pietro, as she turned towards Natasha, "You and I are going to have a talk."

Smirking, Natasha joked, "I'm shaking. Want to go spare?"

Tilda nodded, before turning to wave at Pietro. As the two women walked away, the Maximoff let out the breath he had been holding. Being friends with the telekinetic was going to be a rollercoaster, he could already tell. But, as short fused as she seemed to be at times, he wanted to get to know her more. Wanted to know what made her tick. Hopefully, it wouldn't mean getting his head cut off in the end.