TC Stark: Hello! So in this chapter, we deal with some usual angst. And a flashback! Thank you again for those still reading this ^^ Hope you enjoy! Reviews feed my soul! xD
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 Eleven
Pietro didn't want to leave Tilda. He had argued with the captain, until finally both Wanda and the agent yelled at him to just go. Apparently, there was meant to be an assassination on a governor in Tennessee and Rogers wanted to send the twins. After a week, he had returned from Romania with Natasha and already handing out missions. Since Sam was volunteering at the VA, Stark was dealing with the press, Thor was in Asgard, and Bruce was the resident doctor; the only ones left were the Maximoffs.
Due to Bruce's diagnosis, Tilda was not allowed on any missions. It had felt strange. She had been a weapon since her birth, an agent since a teenager, and the terrible stages hadn't begun yet; so she was feeling useless. Banner's words were for her to pretend to be a normal being. She found that very boring.
"So…she is dying?" Wanda asked, as she and her brother moved through a crowd of people at a political rally.
Deeply frowning, Pietro's eyes remained peeled for their goal while spitting, "I do not want to call it that."
Being a twin, they had a bond that was stronger than even most siblings. They were two halves of a whole. Even before becoming a telepathic, Wanda could always read her brother's mind. She felt what he felt. He felt what she felt. In that moment in Sokovian, she had felt him die. No matter who came between them, they would always be soul mates and she knew in that moment, how much he was suffering.
Reaching down, Wanda grabbed a hold of her brother's hand and understood, "You need to stay strong. She will need you."
"I do not want her to go," Pietro frowned, glad he was wearing sunglasses, "It is not fair, Wanda. I feel...same way when mama and papa died. I am bargaining. And praying. And I do not want her to suffer. Banner says...it will be painful."
The Maximoff sister frowned. She understood what he meant. Not only did Wanda have Pietro, but she also had Vision. What her brother was feeling for Tilda, she felt for the android. She could not imagine losing him, let alone knowing that one day soon he would no longer be with her.
"You just...need to make most of your time."
Pietro nodded, before stopping them and pointing out, "Yes. Let us take care of this quickly. I have assassin in sight."
"Is it weird?" Natasha asked, sitting at one of the outside tables surrounding the base. It was a sunny day and the redhead was wearing very stylish glasses, "How do you feel?"
"Useless." Tilda sighed, ashing her cigarette.
The assassin smiled. She knew what Tilda meant. Even though she had mused a normal life with Bruce once upon a time, truthfully Natasha wouldn't know who she was if she wasn't an agent. It was her life. Who she was bred to be. Who she felt most comfortable as. Who else would she be if she weren't the Black Widow?
Taking another pull, Tilda sat back up in her seat and described, "I feel the same. So, I don't understand why I can't be in the field. Why I can't use my powers. I find myself doing little things, like turning the TV on or even flushing the toilet, but," With a small laugh, she looked down and smiled, "But, then Pietro gets on me for it."
Natasha chuckled gently, her sultry voice cooing, "He's head over heels for you. I can see it."
"Like the Cap is for you?" Tilda turned towards Natasha, seeing her turning her nose up at the accusation, "I am quite adept at reading you, Romanoff."
"It's hard finding partners who accept our pasts. I thought maybe I could find that with Bruce...but I was trying to erase what I was. With Steve...I accept it...and I move on." The Black Widow sat back comfortably in her seat, musing her words. It was calming to think about, how at peace she felt. Just about a year ago, she thought running away would help her feel normal, but instead, it was embracing who she was that really did the trick.
While taking another pull of her cigarette, Tilda leaned back and rested her temple against her fist, "You were one of the first people I met when SHIELD took me in."
"I remember that," Natasha nodded, "You were seventeen. I was twenty-two. I had only been with SHIELD myself for a year. Back then, I was still adjusting to being one of the good guys."
Finally ashing the cigarette, the agent turned towards her colleague and smirked, "I looked up to you. It's why I tried dying my hair red the first time, but it just ended up orange and I decided to stick with it."
"I don't think I'm a very good role model."
"I think Clint's kids would disagree."
Flashback
"Again. Again!"
Dr. Stygar shouted behind a plexiglas wall, his arms waving around as if he were a conductor for an orchestra. The laboratory was large and technologically complex. There were many workers monitoring stats, reading vitals, and researching cell structure. All the while, the ambitious doctor stood almost pressed against the wall in joyous impatience.
A young Tilda, about ten; sat on her knees in the middle of the room. Different toys and building blocks littered the room. A dollhouse was in front of her. Tears in her eyes, the girl begged, "Please, daddy, my head hurts."
Flustered, the white haired man swung his hand across himself in an angered motion, "Doctor - DOCTOR Stygar! Remember your training! You were born for greatness!"
"This maybe too much for her. We may need to think of other options." A young, blonde female doctor approached the animated man.
"I will not wait for another specimen to be born, Dr. Shelley," Dr. Stygar sighed, "No. She will do. She can accomplish this. She is just being LAZY!"
The last word rumbled throughout the room Tilda sat in. She could feel tears in her eyes. Daddy was disappointed in her. He was always disappointed. She wasn't fulfilling her missions - her goals. If only she could be more like Captain America. That's what he always told her - why can't you be better?
Head bowed down, Tilda clenched her fists while beginning to concentrate. It felt so hard sometimes. Telekinesis hadn't been the goal for Dr. Stygar. Realistically, he wanted a super soldier like the man whom the serum first created. But, someone who could control things with their mind was truly gifted. And the doctor saw his opportunity to not only replicate the end result, but improve on it. To start a future of enhanced beings, mutations of the genetic code. It would be his greatest achievement.
As Tilda put her mind to it, the objects around her slowly began to float. In years to come, this ability would be second nature, but for the moment she was a ten year old child. Her brain was still developing. So, it was a struggle, but the objects soon hovered above her and began moving in a circle - just like father wanted.
Finally feeling like she had a handle on it, Tilda opened her eyes and stared at the dollhouse. Little girls loved these things. Parents got them so a child could play with it. Maybe pretend their dolls lived in the house. Not Stygar though. The sole purpose for getting her the toy was to reach a goal.
Slowly, cracks began climbing up the doll house. The structure of it started being tainted by lines crawling up it. Paint began chipping and the little nick nacks inside rumbled, some falling off. With the objects in the air, suddenly the house exploded outwards - pieces of a beloved child toy everywhere.
Dr. Stygar was cheering on the other side of the wall, as Tilda grabbed her head and fell forward, everything falling around her. Medical was quick to run in so to check the girl's vitals, as the white haired man turned to Dr. Shelley, "You see! Soon, she will do that with ease. She won't even have to use her hands to manipulate her actions. We are creating the future!"
A few days had passed before Pietro and Wanda returned to the base. The Vision had been waiting for the Scarlet Witch, apparently having gone to retrieve some exotic fruits for his lover. As much as the runner wanted to dislike the android, he had to admit that he was a good fit for his sister. She seemed happy.
Pietro was tired. Very tired. Still, he wanted to see Tilda. It felt wrong even being away from her for the few days that he was. Sure, in their line of duty, an early death was a reality. After all, he had almost been as good as dead from saving Barton and that young boy. But, to know that his love had a definite end in sight, it was hard to grasp.
Tilda had given Pietro a spare key to her room and he assumed that was where she was when he had tried calling and she did not answer. Quicksilver had to admit, there was a small amount of panic in his throat when he entered her apartment and she wasn't there. He was almost about to head towards Bruce's, when he heard the water running.
"Tilda?" Pietro called out, after knocking on her bathroom door.
"Come in!"
A small blush heated his cheeks, Pietro looking around as if feeling guilty. After a moment or two, the Sokovian stepped in to see Tilda submerged down to the shoulders in her bathtub. A bubble bath. It was cute, feminine. Not what he had expected to see when he had walked in, but she looked so comfortable with her hair in a bun and her head resting against the edge.
"I'm wearing my bra and underwear," Tilda voiced, a rueful smile on her face, "I was tired. This sounded nice."
"Are you alright?"
She nodded, "Yea. Just...relaxing. Would you like to come in?"
Pietro considered his options, before shedding his shirt and pants. The Sokovian wore boxer briefs, which hugged his thick thighs snugly and accentuated his plump rear. Maybe Tilda was losing her inhibitions towards the end, but she found herself staring longer than she normally would have.
As Pietro eased into the other side of the tub, Tilda pointed out, "I never noticed your bullet wounds before. I guess it's always been dark whenever I've seen you without a shirt."
Truthfully, the Sokovian had almost forgotten about them. Look down at his bare chest, he nodded, "They make me look manly, no?"
"So manly." Tilda laughed.
The small joke make Pietro smile, as he looked down at the water. Bubbles covered most of her, but from what he could see, she was toned. Tilda worked out quite often and her peach colored skin was tight around her abdomen. He knew she had a feminine figure, with a small waist and womanly hips. Admittedly, he stared at her rump enough to know it was round, firm, and shapely. The tattoos that littered her body only added to the fact that he thought she was a beautiful sculpture of a person.
Reaching into the water, Pietro picked up her right foot and placed it on his thigh. Tilda remained quiet, as his fingers began massaging the sole. Personally, she thought her feet were ugly, but with how well he was pushing his thumbs into her heel, she discovered she really didn't care about that.
Resting back further into the tub, Tilda hummed, "I know where I want my body buried."
Pietro's massaging stop, his eyes staring at her average sized foot and frowned, "Must we talk about that?"
"If not now, when?"
The truth behind her words sunk in fast, as the Sokovian nodded, "Where would you like to be buried?"
"Sokovia," Pietro's electric eyes shot up, as Tilda smiled, "If that's okay. I just figured...you make it sound so nice. So homey. Warm. Maybe you could bury me near your grandparent's house. You can tell whatever future wife or girlfriend you have, I'm your pet dog or something."
A deep frown darkened the handsome man's facial features, as he reached under to pull Tilda towards him. Water spilled gently over the tub's edges, rocking back and forth as Pietro positioned her to be sitting in his lap. Part of her was too tired to fight back, and another part yearned for the contact. She embraced his arms circling around her and how her back felt pressed against his chest.
Running his hand up over her forehead, Pietro pressed his lips against her cheek and remained there to whisper into her ear, "Do not speak like that. I will tell everybody that you are woman I love. I will keep you forever in here," Picking her hand up, he held it close to his heart, "You will always be with me."
Tilda rested comfortably in his arms, closing her eyes as she felt him gently rocking her. She felt loved. More than loved. It struck her that she had never felt that way. How could she have gone her whole life without doing so? It was a beautiful emotion. To feel such profound happiness; she felt content. She had thought falling in love would make her regret dying and while it certainly did, she wasn't as upset as she thought she would be. So long as she had Pietro by her side.
"Pietro?"
"Mm?" He lightly hummed, running his hands over her shoulders.
Running her hand lightly over his knee, Tilda softly confessed, "I'm naturally blonde."