Little Lost Sometimes

Wanda Maximoff/Grant Ward

ScarletSpecialist or perhaps MaxiWard?

Theme song:

The Almighty – Little Lost Sometimes (very very perfect lyrics for this pair. Google the lyrics even if you don't like the song)

As I've been promising for a long, long time… a redeemable Grant Ward. Enjoy ;)

The setup: Ward is rebuilding HYDRA, but it's a slow process with no resources, and he and his men become mercenaries, for hire to the highest bidder, in order to raise cash. On this particular evening, their employer is one Justin Hammer, recently out of prison and seeking to rebuild his reputation. Hammer wants some impressive bodyguards because Stark is going to be present and Ward certainly fits the bill, with his height and disconcerting mien. He takes three of his best along with him.

It had been a long time since he'd been to a party like this one, Ward reflected, waving away a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses. Not since he'd been working for SHIELD in Paris. He swallowed a nostalgic sigh firmly and let his eyes scan the room slowly. But there was more than enough security here – he and his men weren't even allowed to bring in guns! – and while Ward could think of many reasons someone might want to murder his current employer, he doubted anyone would try all that hard tonight.

He heard Hammer's artificial, booming laugh behind him and fought down another sigh. This is what I am reduced to. Playing intimidatory muscle for a buffoon.

Ward didn't look at Hammer – a bodyguard's job was not to watch his principal, but for threats to his principal – and instead looked at the person Hammer was talking to. A beautiful woman – what a surprise, Ward thought sarcastically, Hammer rarely wasted his time on anyone else – with long, silky dark brown hair, green eyes and a melancholy cast to her lovely features. Wearing a long, slinky scarlet dress with a black lace overlay, she was facing Hammer with a faraway expression in her eyes, and Ward had the distinct impression that she wasn't listening to a word the buffoon said.

Smart girl, not wasting brainpower on Hammer – but why is she standing there, then? Ward's eyes narrowed as Tony Stark approached, clearly bent on speaking to Hammer – and the dark-haired beauty turned, put her hand on his arm, said a few words very softly into Stark's ear, and Stark walked away without a word.

What the fuck just happened?

Ward would have bet quite a large amount of money that Stark would seek to confront, and almost certainly insult and provoke, Hammer tonight. He'd been counting on it. Waiting for his opportunity, to grab Stark's arm and usher him away, and as he did so, whisper in the billionaire's ear.

Coulson's alive.

Two words would well and truly set the cat among the pigeons. Stark wouldn't be able to resist following that up, and with his resources, he'd soon find out that Ward spoke the truth.

And this dark-haired beauty had just foiled his plan by redirecting Stark with only a couple of whispered words.

How the hell did she do that? And why? Who is she? Ward took a step forward, fully intent on finding out.

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Wanda turned as she sensed someone approaching her with anger, directed at her. Her eyes made contact with those of a tall man a few steps away, a man with black hair and eyes of almost the same colour, an extraordinarily handsome face.

She would never like crowds. With so many people so close, it was impossible to block out all of their emotions, but it was important for her to learn to do so at need, Natasha insisted, and Wanda knew the spy was right. She was getting better at it, only the strongest emotions could break through – like the lust of the creep who'd been talking to her breasts – and the anger of the tall man.

And the murderous intent of the three men on the balcony above the crowd…

"Gun!" she screamed, pointing upwards, and the room was suddenly chaos.

Ward's three men were all closer to Hammer than he was, and they did the smart thing by flinging Hammer onto the ground and themselves on top of him so that their body armour would protect him.

Ward's ears registered a spanging sound. That's Hawkeye's bowstring. Okay, so the attackers are well taken care of… until the bullets started hailing down. Instinctively, he lunged forward, grabbed the dark-haired girl and bore her down to the ground. A sharp agony in the middle of his back made him grunt with pain, and then there was an even sharper pain in his left calf.

Wanda struggled to get out from under the man who'd flung her to the ground and shielded her with his body even as she summoned her magic.

"Don't move," he grunted at her, his mind bright with pain.

"You're hurt," she whispered, staring into his eyes as the gunfire fell silent. A small hand came up, touched his cheek with almost unbearable tenderness, and Ward found himself stilling, staring back into her green eyes as they began to glow orange-red.

"Who are you?" he gasped out, hardly daring to believe.

"Do you not know me, Grant Ward? I am your soulmate." Her smile was breathtaking, her accent sultry, south-eastern Europe somewhere, he thought, his mind automatically processing the input, the Balkans perhaps...

For a long moment he stared down at her, and then he groaned out, "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry," her fingers traced along his cheekbone gently. "Sorry I took so long to find you. But would I be your soulmate if I had not suffered, too? If I had not made decisions that I thought were the right way, only to find out that they led to consequences awful beyond my imagining? If anyone can understand the depth of your regret, I can."

He knew, then, who she was. Who she had to be. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch – one of the new Avengers. She'd been adept so far at keeping her face out of photographs, but considering the red glow in her irises, there was no one else she could be. Nor could he deny the truth of her words, considering what he knew about her.

"I can take away your pain, if you wish it," Wanda offered quietly.

"Would I still be your soulmate, if I did not feel it?" Ward asked her in return. "If I did not understand your suffering, your regrets?"

Her eyes faded back to a soft green then and she smiled up at him. "Shall we go forward then together, Grant? Make amends for the suffering we have caused to others?"

He hesitated, the desire for personal vengeance for his suffering still seething in his heart. "I've done some pretty terrible things."

"I lost my twin brother and half my country to my poor choices, Grant. Choices I made when I desired only revenge for my own suffering. That road leads only to more pain. Let it go, set it aside. There are greater wrongs in this world, greater causes for us to fight for than our personal vendettas."

She was fourteen years his junior. But her eyes were a hundred years old in pain and loss as she looked up at him, and in that moment, Grant Ward made his decision.

The gunfire had long since fallen silent, people standing and dusting themselves off, looking around warily. Ward pushed himself to his feet with a pained grunt, feeling the blood coursing down the back of his thigh.

"What do you need me to do?"

"You're hurt…" she reached out to him.

"I'll live. Tell me what you need me to do, Wanda."

"Come with me," she held out her hand, and he took it, followed her out of the hall without a backward glance.

"Where are we going? South America – I have a drop box a few blocks from here, I can pick up cash and ID, get one for you…"

Wanda turned to look up at him. Her head barely reached his shoulder. "No more running, Grant. That's not how you wipe out the red in your ledger."

His head spun. "Are you – telling me to turn myself in? To SHIELD?" He couldn't go back to that vault, that terrible place of darkness where all he had to do was dwell on his past mistakes. Not again.

"No." Wanda shook her head. "Not unless that's what you think you ought to do."

"I don't understand, then. What do you want me to do?"

"The Avengers aren't beholden to SHIELD. Nor are all of our identities public. They don't ever have to know that you're with us."

"Romanoff knows me. So does Barton."

"They've both followed the path you're setting your feet on now, Grant. They'll understand."

He hesitated only a moment before nodding. "I'm not much good for anything but fighting and killing."

"Then you and Natasha should get on very well. She feels the same way."

He managed a small smile at that. He was beginning to feel a little dizzy, the blood running down his calf pooling in his shoe. "I think…" the world spun. The last thing he heard was Wanda's frightened scream.

Ward woke to a bright, sunlit room, the feel of small, slender fingers wrapped around his. Looking down, he discovered he was in a large, comfortable bed – and Wanda was curled up asleep on a chair beside it, her cheek on the bed, her hand outstretched to hold his.

"So you're awake," a voice said, and his head snapped back the other way.

Romanoff.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"No," the redhead responded, though she cocked her head consideringly. "I thought about it. When Hill told me that you called me eye candy."

"I was trying to piss her off," Ward tried to excuse himself.

"Of course you were." Romanoff smiled, showing teeth, and Ward had to order himself sternly not to cower. "I'm not going to kill you. Not at the moment. You might wish I had once you start training, though."

"Training for what?" Ward called after her as she exited the room, the door closing behind her.

"Training to be an Avenger, of course," Wanda said softly, and he looked down to see his soulmate gazing at him, a smile on her soft lips, her green eyes shining. "What else?"

He's still got a long way to go, of course. But I've no doubt that Wanda would keep him on the right road.