Chapter 5
You're as safe as a mountain but know that I'm dynamite
-Dynamite by Sigrid
Warnings for violence, slight gore, self-harm, brief descriptions of torture and sexual assault (non-graphic)
Wanda lay in her bed staring at the wall.
It was only early afternoon, but she couldn't muster the energy to do anything else. Her eyes traced the intricate designs on the walls for the hundredth time.
She was avoiding everyone.
After her shower, she'd told Natasha that she needed some time alone. When someone came to check on her an hour later, she'd pretended to be asleep. Thankfully no one had camped out next to her bed. She buried her face into the soft pillow. She felt stripped bare, exposed by the vulnerabilities she'd shared. Her stomach was in knots. Rationally a small voice was reminding her that she needed to tell them what happened, but a much louder voice was shouting that if she just kept it all bottled up inside, maybe she could pretend it never happened.
And then there was James.
Wanda truly didn't know what to do about James and all these old emotions that had unlocked along with her memories. He said he'd remembered pieces, but were they the same pieces that she remembered? The emotions she was feeling were strong, and they scared her. You were so young, She tried to dismiss the emotions, a lonely nineteen year old experiencing infatuation for the first time. Infatuation did not feel like the right word, but she forcibly pushed those doubts away.
She felt violated. She didn't know how to process that her memories had been tampered with on top of trying to process how her body had been abused.
Wanda's memories of Hydra before she got her powers had always been fuzzy. They had told her that was most likely a side effect from getting her powers, and she had blindly accepted their lie. She wondered if Pietro had been wiped as well, since he had never mentioned the Winter Soldier. He hadn't seen Wanda's relationship with the Soldat, so maybe he just never thought it was important to bring up the Hydra asset who helped Strucker find them.
Strucker.
Wanda felt a stab of hurt. She felt betrayed by Strucker, who despite all his faults, had been something like a father figure to her and Pietro. He had not been an affectionate man, but he had been a solid presence who made sure their needs were met and cared for their safety. He had never forced anything upon them. He asked. And yes, maybe it was an offer they couldn't refuse, like James had said. She could see now how Strucker had used their hunger for revenge to manipulate them. But she and Pietro had felt indebted to him. She still remembered the moment when Ulysses Klaue revealed that Strucker had been killed. The sorrow she and Pietro both felt was real.
Her throat ached with unshed tears. She wanted her brother.
She missed the way he brightened every room. She missed his stupid jokes. She missed the way he understood her, the way they could communicate with just a glance. She missed seeing their father's smile and their mother's eyes on his face. She missed having someone she could always count on to keep her safe and make her laugh. She missed not feeling alone.
His heart had always been so big. Despite everything they'd been through, his instinct had always remained the same: to protect and defend. At the end, that horrible moment when she felt him pass, her instinct had sent her hunting down Ultron to rip out his metal heart.
"Neviem, ako to urobiť bez teba. [I don't know how to do this without you.]" She said into the pillow.
Her grief had been, not gone, but smaller by the time she had fought at the airport. Now it had surged back to something that felt like drowning.
"What is grief, if not love persevering?" Vision had said that at the Avengers Compound on one of the nights when she was so lost in her sorrow that she couldn't come out of her room. She had felt comforted by his words then, but now they just hurt.
Wanda flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "Ak sa takto cíti láska, tak to nechcem. [If this is what love feels like, I don't want it.]" She muttered.
A soft knock at the door startled her.
"Wanda? Can I come in?" Steve's voice came from the other side of the door.
Steve slowly opened the door after hearing Wanda's quiet "Yes."
She was sitting cross legged on her bed, so skeletally thin. She looked haunted in a way that he hadn't seen since right after her brother died.
"Hey." He said awkwardly. "I just wanted to see if you were hungry."
"No thank you." She said hoarsely.
"You don't have to join everyone if you don't feel up to it. I could bring you a plate." He hoped he didn't sound as worried as he felt.
"Thank you, but I am fine."
She had put a wall up, he could tell. Her body language was closed. He didn't blame her, honestly, after everything he had seen and heard, but it still made his heart ache. She was in her twenties, but she was still so young.
"Can I sit for a minute?" He gestured towards the chair in her room.
She hesitated, but finally gave a slight nod of her head. He pulled the chair up next to the bed and sat, leaning heavily on his knees.
"I owe you an apology, Wanda." He said, his voice quiet and serious. Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but he continued. "I failed you as a leader. I failed you in Sokovia and in Lagos and in Germany. But I also failed you as a friend. I was so distracted looking for Bucky" and dealing with Peggy's failing health and passing he added to himself "that I wasn't there for you after your brother died or after Lagos. I left you at the Compound, and that wasn't right. I should have known that the government would hurt you. I saw how the Accords were focused on stripping enhanced individuals of their rights. I should have taken you with us to Siberia. I should have made sure you didn't end up at the Raft. And I know that this doesn't make any of it right or erase the horrible things you experienced, but I am sorry."
Her dark eyes were glittering in the dim light of her room, but she didn't say a word.
"Whatever happens next, I want you to know that you're one of us. You're family."
He reached out, intending to squeeze her hand, but as soon as he touched her, everything went white.
Wanda shivered.
It was getting dark and Pietro still hadn't showed up. The biting cold wind blew through the alley, and she pulled her thin hood closer around her face. Her stomach ached with hunger, but she was more concerned with her brother.
A dark shape appeared at the end of the alley and relief coursed through her.
"Pietro kde si bol? [Pietro where have you been?]" She snapped, pushing off the wall to march angrily towards him.
Two more dark shapes bled out from the darkness and appeared next to the first. Wanda stopped in her tracks, fear spiking through her blood.
"Pozrite chlapci, je to Maximoffova sučka. [Look boys, it's the Maximoff bitch.]"
The first shadow stepped into the light. It was a teenage boy, a few years older than her. She recognized him immediately. He was one of the Piťovci, a mafia group known for their violence.
"Nechcem žiadne problémy. [I don't want any trouble.]" Her voice was high pitched and shaking.
"Potom nám žiadne nedávajte. Si pekné dievča. Prečo mi neprídeš dať pusu. [Then don't give us any. You're a pretty girl. Why don't you come give me a kiss.]" He smiled, eyes glinting.
"Prosím, nechaj ma ísť. [Please just let me go.]." Her voice cracked.
The two teenage boys prowling on either side of their leader snickered.
"Kde je tvoj brat, Maximoff? Prečo sa nepridáš k našej rodine. Udržíme vás pekne v teple. [Where's your brother, Maximoff? Why don't you come join our family. We'll keep you nice and warm.]"
He made a vulgar gesture with his fingers and mouth and Wanda couldn't help the tears that started rolling down her face from sheer terror. They advanced towards her and her brain finally kicked into gear and she took off in the opposite direction. Her feet pounded on the uneven cobblestones, and she could hear them laughing as they gave chase. She knew they were faster. Her only chance was to hide.
Maybe she would have been successful, but she couldn't think fast enough to plan where her terrified feet were taking her. She rounded a corner and came to a sudden stop when she found herself at the top of an embankment, trapped. Loose rocks disturbed from her sudden stop went crashing down the stone wall and onto the street below. It was a long drop. At least two stories.
Wanda whirled around, but the boys were already blocking her escape, smirking at her. Adrenaline pounded in her ears. She knew what was going to happen. She'd lived on the streets long enough to know how some men liked to hurt women.
She glanced back down at the street and then back at the boys. She'd rather jump than-
A figure crashed out of the shadows and bowled over all three boys at once. They yelped and tried to scramble to their feet to fight off their attacker, but he moved inhumanly fast. Wanda barely had time to blink before all three boys were on the ground, unmoving. The man turned towards her and in her panic she stepped backwards into thin air.
"Wanda!"
His shout was the last thing she heard before she hit the ground.
It had taken Steve too long to figure out what happened and where he was.
The city was shrouded in a light layer of snow, and the wind was bitterly cold. Somewhere in the distance he could hear gunfire and shouts. Not a battle. It sounded more guerilla. He could tell by the cobblestone streets and the style of the buildings that he was in Europe, and a moment later it dawned on him.
Sokovia.
"Wanda." He breathed, his breath a white cloud in the cold.
She had to be somewhere nearby. He started moving, almost jogging. With his enhanced hearing, he could hear snatches of conversations happening around him. They were all speaking Slovak and he swore under his breath, wishing he could understand what they were saying. Finally he caught one word that stopped him in his tracks.
"...Maximoff…"
He heard the sounds of a chase and took off after them. They had the advantage of knowing the city and he only had ears on them, so it took him longer than normal to catch up. When he finally did, it took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. Three teenagers had trapped a young girl on the edge of a drop off. He scanned the area for Wanda, but there was no one else there. It wasn't until he focused on the girl's face that he realized she was Wanda. He charged the boys. It was an easy fight. Three teenagers didn't stand a chance against a super soldier. Once he'd knocked them all unconscious, he turned towards Wanda only to see a glimpse of her terrified face before she stepped backwards and fell.
"Wanda!" He shouted, lunging forward.
He wasn't fast enough. She hit the street below with a sickening thud.
He jumped after her, rolling into the landing with a grunt. The drop had to be at least 30 feet. As he reached her side, his face paled when he saw her leg bone gleaming white and jagged as it stuck out of the side of her bloody leg. She had landed on her right leg and it looked like it had snapped. Steve felt himself shift into field medic mode. Her eyes were closed, her head bleeding from where it had smacked against the road. He took her vitals quickly. Her pulse was weak and her breathing shallow. He found a nearby tree and practically tore off two branches. Next he removed his shirt and ripped it neatly into several strips. He didn't dare move the bone too much. His hands were slick with her blood as he wrapped her leg in a makeshift splint. He was grateful she was unconscious because he knew the pain would be excruciating. He'd seen injuries like this in the war and heard grown men screaming as medics tried to shift the bone back into place. As soon as he felt like it was safe enough to move her leg, he gathered her into his arms and started running, shouting at anyone he saw for directions. He didn't speak any Slovak, but as it turned out when you were carrying a child covered in blood, people understood that you were looking for the hospital.
The hospital looked old and battered, but it was still running. The waiting room looked more like an army medic tent, full of people in bloodied bandages. Thankfully a doctor saw him come in with Wanda limp in his arms and quickly ushered him back.
The next few hours were a blur of doctors and nurses. They set Wanda's leg and bandaged it the best they could with their limited supplies. They gave her morphine for the pain and finally she was settled in the hospital bed. Steve sat beside her in a borrowed shirt and took a breath, studying her. She was still unconscious and so tiny laying in the hospital bed. Her dirty hair was a dark auburn and her pale face was freckled. She looked like she was in that age between childhood and teenager. The clothes she had been wearing were tattered and several sizes too big. He knew that she and Pietro had been homeless for a while as kids, but it was one thing hearing about it and another seeing it. He swallowed past the ache in his throat. She was just a child.
He thought back to what Bucky had described. He was relatively sure this was a memory that Wanda had pulled him into. Another traumatic moment that she was reliving with him accidentally tagging along. He understood now why Bucky had been confused about whether or not it was real. His knee ached from the jump he'd made. He could smell the antiseptic of the hospital. He'd definitely felt those punches land. It wasn't like a dream. It felt real.
"Steve?"
His gaze snapped to the tiny form in the bed. Wanda was looking at him, her wide dark eyes slightly unfocused.
"You know me?" He asked gently.
"Of course I know you, Steve. What are you talking about?" Her disgruntled voice sounded almost comical coming from a child.
"Well, I'm pretty sure we never met when you were just a kid." Steve said mildly.
Wanda blinked at him. She seemed to be having trouble focusing on his face, but then again she was on a steady drip of morphine.
"Where are we?" Her words slurred slightly.
"A hospital somewhere in Sokovia, I believe."
Wanda's eyes narrowed and he held her gaze.
"This isn't right." She finally said.
"What's not right?" Steve asked.
"This isn't how it happened. Where is Pietro?" Her voice was beginning to rise.
Steve stood up and perched carefully on the side of her bed. She stiffened, watching him warily.
"You pulled me into a memory, I think." He said softly. "Wanda, this isn't real."
Wanda stared at him, worrying the thin hospital sheet in her hands.
"You said this isn't how it happened. So what did happen?"
She looked down at her hands. Steve forced himself to wait patiently and tried not to think about how much time was potentially passing in the real world.
"They chased me to the edge." She finally said in her small voice. "I jumped to try and get away. The Soldat found me with a broken leg. He brought me to Pietro and Baron Strucker."
"The Soldat? You mean, Bu- uh, James?"
She looked up at him sharply. "James." She repeated, almost to herself.
Steve blinked and the room changed. They were in a modest room with stone walls. There was an ancient looking metal framed bed in one corner, a rickety dresser poorly painted green, and a full length mirror with a single crack in one corner. Wanda was still sitting on the bed, but she was older, perhaps eighteen. She was scribbling in a small notebook, biting her lip in concentration.
Steve opened his mouth to ask what the hell just happened, but she suddenly looked up, ripping the page from the book and holding it out to him.
"Hier. Sie können es lesen, wenn Sie wollen, ich möchte nur sicherstellen, dass mein Bruder in Sicherheit ist. [Here. You can read it if you want, I just want to make sure my brother is safe.]" She said in German.
Steve blinked, startled. He was about to take the paper when a metal hand reached out from beside him and took it instead. Steve turned, his heart in his throat, and came face to face with the Winter Soldier.
This was the Winter Soldier who had tried to kill him in D.C. Though he was dressed more casually with less tactical gear and he wasn't wearing his mask. His silver arm with the red star reflected in the sunlight coming in the window. His face was eerily indifferent. Steve immediately knew that he couldn't see him because otherwise he'd already have one of the Winter Soldier's knives in his back.
The Winter Soldier scanned the note quickly and then looked back up at Wanda. In the silence, Steve glanced back at Wanda too. She was staring at the Soldier, trying to blink away the tears clearly swimming in her eyes.
"Bitte Soldat. [Please Soldier]." She whispered. "Er ist alles, was ich noch habe. [He's all I have left.]"
Something flashed across the Soldier's blank face.
"Bitte. [Please]." The Soldier repeated. He sounded almost amused. "Das höre ich nicht oft. Ich glaube, ich habe vergessen, was dieses Wort bedeutet. [I don't hear that often. I think I've forgotten what that word means.]" His voice was gravelly, as though he hadn't spoken in a long time.
Wanda was gaping at him. Steve's gaze was swinging from Wanda to the Soldier and back again. His heart was pounding. That was such a…a Bucky thing to say and it seemed to shock Wanda as much as it shocked Steve.
"Nun gut, Hydra könnte eine Lektion in Manieren gebrauchen. [Well then, Hydra could use a lesson in manners.]" Wanda finally said, a slight smile teasing at her lips. "Soll ich Baron Strucker sagen, er soll eine Kindergärtnerin? [Should I tell Baron Strucker to hire a Kindergarten teacher?]"
The Winter Soldier blinked and stared at her. Steve thought he suddenly seemed lost. The silence stretched on and Wanda's slight smile fell to a look of disappointment.
"Bringst du Pietro diese Notiz? [Will you bring Pietro that note?]" She finally said.
"Zu Befehl. [At your command]." The Soldier said in a clipped voice before turning and disappearing silently through the door.
Wanda stared after him, a thoughtful expression on her face. Steve was still reeling from their simple exchange and nearly jumped out of his skin when Wanda suddenly swung her gaze directly to him.
"You're still here?" She asked, seeming confused.
"Wanda, zobuď sa. [Wanda, wake up.]"
They both jerked, startled by the voice. It was so loud that the windows started rattling. Steve felt the vibrations of the sound in his chest, like an artillery shell. Wanda was reaching for him, her eyes wide.
"Steve-"
"Wanda, zobuď sa. [Wanda, wake up.]"
Wanda opened her eyes and met a familiar steel blue gaze.
James was leaning over her, his warm hand cradling the side of her face. In front of her, Steve gasped in a breath and quickly released her hand.
"You're safe, Wanda. You're in Wakanda. We got you out. You're safe." James was steadily repeating in a low voice.
"That was you." Wanda murmured, her mind whirling unsteadily. "Calling me."
James brushed his thumb across her cheekbone and her breath caught.
"You ok?" He asked.
Wanda nodded mutely, and he stood up straight, dropping his hand from her face. She tried to ignore the flutter of disappointment she felt as he pulled away. They both looked at Steve. He looked stunned.
"What did you see?" James asked Steve.
"Wanda breaking her leg. And…and you." Steve swallowed hard.
James' metal hand whirred softly. Wanda's head was pounding.
"How much time?" Steve asked.
"Been about an hour since I saw you last." James replied and some of the tension left Steve's shoulders.
"Steve?" She asked shakily.
Steve's eyes slid to her and she caught a glimpse of the discomfort that he tried to hide. It felt like a knife to her ribs.
"You pulled me into a flashback, Wanda." He said quietly. "But I'm ok."
"A flashback?" She repeated slowly.
"Do you know what PTSD is?" Steve asked.
She frowned, unsure, and shook her head.
"Posttraumatická stresová porucha." James translated.
"Oh." She said. "Yes, I have heard of that."
"Well our theory is that you are experiencing traumatic flashbacks, but because you have your powers, you're able to pull other people into them with you."
Wanda heard the words wash over her like she was dreaming. PTSD. Flashback. Pull people in.
"That's what I did to you?" She whispered, looking to James.
He nodded slightly.
She felt suddenly dizzy. There had been a few homeless people on the streets of Sokovia who sometimes saw things that weren't there. Sometimes they hurt other people. Most of them had been soldiers. Pietro had told her to stay far away from them, that they were unstable. They weren't safe because they had posttraumatická stresová porucha. So what did that mean for her? She wasn't safe?
Everything she had experienced with James and just now with Steve felt real. Yes, there were moments when things felt off. But in the moment, it felt terrifyingly real. Was this real then? How would she know? Maybe none of this was real. Maybe she was on the operating table in the Raft, her brain being taken apart for science.
"Excuse me." She blurted out, slipping past the two men and darting into the small bathroom in her room.
She locked the door as quietly as she could manage and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was pale and gaunt. She looked ill. Her neck was bandaged and the bruises on her face were an ugly shade of purple and yellow. She closed her eyes and opened them again. The injuries were still there.
How would she know?
How would she know?
She rummaged through the drawers of the vanity. Feminine products. Hair products. Toothpaste. And finally she found a razor with a small pack of fresh blades. She pulled out a shiny blade and examined it, feeling strangely numb. The American had died a messy, bloody death, but his body had also disappeared. She pulled the soft sweatpants she was wearing down and made a quick swipe on her upper thigh. Blood welled immediately, trickling slowly down her leg. She held the bloodied razor blade and stared at the wound, trying not to blink. Nothing happened besides the blood slowing just above her ankle. She blinked deliberately, but when she opened her eyes it was still there.
"Wanda?"
Steve's voice startled her and she quickly dropped the bloody blade into the drawer and shut it. Her hands were shaking.
"I'll be right out!" She called, hoping he wouldn't notice the tremble in her voice.
She wiped the blood off her leg with a towel and then rinsed it carefully until there was no sign of what she'd done. She washed her hands methodically, grateful that the sweatpants she was wearing were black to hide the blood. The cut on her thigh stung, but it was also strangely grounding. She wasn't sure what the results of her impulsive experiment meant. Was this real? Or would the wound disappear shortly?
Wanda took a deep breath and opened the door. Steve and James were both standing in the middle of the room, looking at her. She fought the urge to shrink back into the bathroom.
"Are you ok?" Steve asked carefully.
"I'm fine." She lied nervously. "I think…I would like a plate of food after all. If you don't mind."
Steve exchanged a look with James, and her heart sank when Steve nodded and left the room by himself. James was still standing in the middle of the room, his gaze locked on her. Anxiously, she tried to think of a valid excuse to get him to leave.
"Wanda." He said quietly.
His low voice covered her skin in goosebumps. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. She stayed on the other side of the room from him, afraid to get any closer in case her powers did something else.
"Thank you." He said quietly. "For pulling me out…of the Winter Soldier."
Something in her chest twisted painfully. "I think it was my fault that the Soldat was here."
Emotion flashed across his face at the term "Soldat," but it was gone too quickly for her to read.
"Not your fault-"
"Why aren't you angry?" She interrupted. "I messed with your head. I'm no better than Hydra."
He stared at her, his face expressionless. "You didn't make me kill anyone."
"I did though." The sound of his metal arm crushing the American's head into the floor flashed through her mind.
"You didn't make me do anything." His voice hardened. "I wanted to kill him."
Wanda swallowed the words she wanted to angrily spit out. Because I dragged you into a situation that made you want to. She remembered Clint debriefing her on the way to Germany.
"Barnes told Steve that he doesn't want to kill people anymore. Steve believes him."
"Is it so different? Mental programming and emotional manipulation?"
A muscle jumped in his jaw, the only visible sign that he was angry. Good. She thought bitterly. He should be angry.
"Maybe a part of me will always be a killer." He finally said in a low voice. "But I'd rather kill because I want to protect someone I care about than mindlessly assassinate on someone else's orders."
Wanda hated that fluttery feeling in her stomach. Someone that I care about.
Steve suddenly appeared in the doorway, a plate of food in his hands. James didn't seem startled, but then again he'd probably heard Steve coming with his enhanced hearing. Wanda, however, visibly jumped. There was no way he could have gotten a plate of food that fast unless he was running-
Oh.
Was he afraid of leaving me with James? Or James with me? She wondered bitterly.
"Here you are!" Steve strode towards her, holding out the plate. "There's lamb with a spice rub that Sam says is delicious, rice pilaf, plantains, and roasted root vegetables."
Wanda took the plate, being careful not to touch Steve's hands. It smelled amazing. Her appetite was still nonexistent, but she knew she needed to eat something.
"Thank you, Steve." She tried for a smile, but it felt flat.
She expected them both to leave, but they both just stood there, watching her. Her mind was a mess of conflicting emotions. She wanted to be alone, but she didn't want to be alone.
"I think you should leave now." Wanda dropped her eyes to her plate of food to avoid seeing their faces. "I don't think it's safe for you to be near me."
There was a long silence. She stubbornly kept her gaze on her food, but she could tell that neither of them were moving.
"This is how it feels, for the record."
Steve's light, almost teasing tone made her look up, startled. He was smirking at James, who narrowed his eyes at him.
"How what feels?" James practically growled.
"Dealing with an ex-Hydra asset who's so terrified of hurting people that they're trying to push everybody who cares about them away." He said calmly as though it were obvious.
Wanda felt her face get hot and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be angry or cry or maybe both. James was still scowling at Steve, but a corner of his mouth turned up slightly.
"I'm not-" She started sharply.
"Don't bother, Wanda." James interrupted, turning that slight slight smile towards her and making her legs feel unsteady. "Steve is one stubborn son of a bitch."
Steve was grinning widely and Wanda swallowed the rest of what she'd been about to say.
"So how about this." Steve pulled out the chair at the small table in her room and gestured to it. "You sit and eat, and Bucky and I will just hang out."
"Hang out." She repeated faintly.
James sat himself down on her bed and pulled a weathered book out of his pocket. He gave her a final glance and then focused on his book. Steve took the comfy chair in the corner and pulled out a small sketchbook and pencil. Wanda stood blinking at them for a few seconds before slowly sinking into the chair and setting her plate on the table.
Dýchajte [Breathe]. She told herself, trying to focus on the food in front of her.
The cut on her leg itched. She picked at the food numbly. Pietro would be yelling at her to eat if he could see her right now.
"Jedzte! Čo to sakra robíš? Nepamätáte si, koľkokrát sme boli hladní? [Eat! What the hell are you doing? Don't you remember how many times we went hungry?]"
Pietro, chýbaš mi. [Pietro, I miss you.]
The plate blurred. In the quiet she could hear Steve's pencil scratching on the paper and the whisper of James' fingers turning the page in his book. It was strangely comforting. The sun shining in the window was wonderfully warm on her skin. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed the sunshine during her imprisonment.
"Pietro would have liked it here."
Her own voice surprised her. Steve and James both looked up. She swallowed hard.
"How come?" Steve prodded gently.
"The sun is so warm. He loved summer. And complained constantly when he was cold." She managed a shaky smile. "He used to steal my blanket. I would wake up and find him rolled up in all the blankets like a halupki."
"What's a halupki?" Steve asked.
"It is, um what is your word? We call it kapusta…" Wanda faltered.
"Cabbage." James' low voice filled in for her.
"Yes, cabbage leaves stuffed with meat and rice."
Steve chuckled.
"We ate a lot of cabbage in 1930s Brooklyn, but mostly in soup."
James let out a pained noise and both Wanda and Steve looked at him in concern.
"Cabbage soup." He groaned, but his eyes were crinkled in humor. "I hated cabbage soup."
The joy on Steve's face made Wanda's eyes prickle again. From the very first moment Steve told them about James Buchanan Barnes, she could tell that he and Steve were not just friends, they were brothers. The emotions that radiated off Steve towards James were as familiar to her as breathing. It was how she felt about Pietro. It was why she decided to go to Germany with Clint. She knew that if she found out Pietro was still alive, she would do anything to help him.
"And what was that stuff they used to feed us in the army?" James continued, making a disgusted face. "Shit on a…something."
Steve was laughing now. "Shit on a Shingle. S.O.S."
Wanda wrinkled her nose. "What?!"
"It was creamed chipped beef on toast" Steve grinned.
"Tasted exactly like 'shit on a shingle' sounds." James grumbled, then a sly grin crept over his face. "You tried to get us to stop calling it that. What did you say S.O.S. stood for?"
Steve's ears reddened and Wanda watched in amused fascination.
"Save our stomachs." Steve mumbled, but he was smiling.
James laughed. Wanda felt a genuine smile creep across her face at the sound. Steve made a show of rolling his eyes, but Wanda could feel the happiness emanating from him like the sun. She still felt the darkness inside her that threatened to swallow her whole, but for the moment the shadows seemed a little lighter.
Nearly halfway across the world, Vision phased through a wall into Tony Stark's private quarters.
Tony looked up from his work bench where he was tinkering, Black Sabbath blasting in the background, and jumped.
"Jesus, Baymax!" He snapped, clutching his chest with one hand and pointing at the door with the other. "We talked about this."
"I'm sorry, sir." Vision said, and something about his tone made Tony pause. He sounded…off.
"My fault for not inventing phase-proof walls. F.R.I.D.A.Y. add 'invent phase-proof walls' to my honey do list."
"Got it, boss." F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.
"What's up, Golden Child?" Tony wiped the grease from his hands with an already filthy rag.
Vision seemed to be struggling with what to say and Tony's heart rate accelerated. Whatever this was, it wasn't good.
"I've been doing some digging." Vision finally said hesitantly.
"I hope you're about to tell me you've taken up gardening." Tony raised an eyebrow.
"No, sir. I've been digging into the secure files of The Raft."
"Oh just some light treason then."
It had been about a week since Secretary Ross had stormed into the compound demanding to know where Wilson, Lang, Barton, and Wanda were and making all sorts of threats about search warrants and jail time. He'd had to work to hide his grin, relieved to hear they'd escaped that submarine of misery. Ross had been furious, but Tony had nothing for him and told him so with no small amount of satisfaction. He'd never been so happy to not know something. He knew why Ross suspected him. Visitors were not allowed at the Raft. He'd had to sweet talk Ross for hours before the man let him in to talk to Wilson and he was honestly shocked that Ross hadn't thrown him in one of those cells after he'd taken out the audio feeds, even with no proof that it was him.
After Siberia, as he lay in his hospital bed recovering from his extensive injuries, he distracted himself from thinking about what had happened in that frozen bunker by brainstorming ways he could remotely free them without getting strangled by the Accords…or Ross. He couldn't get the image of Wanda huddled miserably in solitary confinement with a straight jacket and shock collar around her neck out of his mind. He'd decided that if Rogers hadn't freed them in two months, he would call the stupid burner phone that stupid Rogers had left him.
He was very relieved it hadn't come to that.
"Alright Anonymous, what'd you find?"
Vision still hesitated and Tony's sense of dread ratcheted up.
"I think you need to see it for yourself, but I must warn you. If you watch this footage, it will haunt you as it now haunts me."
That was it. Haunted. The android looked haunted.
"Sounds like a good time. Bring it up."
F.R.I.D.A.Y. brought up the screen and Vision turned away, as though he couldn't bear to see it again. Tony looked at the video feed and tried to steel himself.
The video feed showed Wanda in a room with a one way mirror. She was sitting in a metal chair with restraints on her arms and legs. Tony couldn't help but think of the images he'd seen of Barnes in a similar chair, screaming around the rubber guard in his mouth. Two people in white lab coats were attaching electrodes to her head. Wanda was crying, begging them to tell her what they were doing. Her accent was thick with fear and she sounded so young. No one answered her. They moved around her like she wasn't even a person. At one point Wanda's eyes glinted red like she was about to use her powers. Everyone quickly withdrew from her and then she seized and screamed. The shock collar. It was an awful thing, her scream. It was a scream of pain and terror and Tony heard it echoed in his head from his memories of being tortured in a cave with a car battery attached to his chest. Wanda screamed and strained against the restraints for several minutes before finally slumping back into the chair, her eyes rolling back in her head. No one around her seemed concerned. They scribbled notes on clipboards and checked the machine the electrodes were attached to.
The video switched to another. Wanda was in the chair again, but she was conscious. A lab coat was injecting her with something as she struggled and begged them to stop. Whatever was in the syringe hit her fast and hard, and she slumped over.
"Subject is sedated." One of the lab coats said.
"That was fast." Someone else in the room said.
"Should be. This is a recreation of what Hydra gave The Winter Soldier to sedate him." The lab coat said. "We need it to be fast if we're going to use it on the enhanced and super soldiers."
A shrill alarm started coming from the machine hooked up to Wanda. Lab coats swarmed her. They injected her with something else and shoved an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Wanda's body began to convulse.
Tony realized he was gripping the edge of the workbench so hard it was cutting painfully into his hand.
"It only gets worse." Vision said in a low, tortured voice.
And it did. They tested a variety of drugs on Wanda, callously documenting the results as Wanda suffered. There were hallucinogens and sedatives and god knows what else. They drew her blood. They exposed her to different substances that looked suspiciously alien in nature. That was all bad enough. Then a new person began to show up. He was tall, blond, and good looking. He wasn't a lab coat. He looked like every handsome bad guy in every action movie.
"John Kyle." Vision said in a dark tone.
"Never trust a man with two first names." Tony heard himself say, his own voice sounding far away.
What followed was so terrible that at one point Tony vomited into his wastebasket. He wanted to beg Vision to shut it off, but he forced himself to watch. I did this to her. He kept thinking numbly. John Kyle was not actually a man. He was a monster. A monster who enjoyed hurting Wanda in ways that Tony knew he'd never recover from seeing. It seemed as though they wanted Wanda to use her powers, but they weren't willing to take the collar off. Tony didn't doubt that if they had taken the collar off, Wanda would have killed every last one of the motherfuckers, and honestly he wouldn't have blamed her. So John Kyle's job was to provoke Wanda into using her powers, which would then cause the collar to shock her. He could see Wanda trying so hard to resist, even as she was tortured. She was no longer restrained to the chair. John Kyle seemed to enjoy stalking her around the room. Some part of him knew it was coming, even if he desperately hoped he was wrong. Every video seemed to escalate the violence Wanda was experiencing. Eventually Wanda was able to withstand the physical abuse and hold her powers back even as she screamed and cried in pain.
"We're going to try something new." He heard the man say and bile rose in throat.
John Kyle cornered Wanda, ignoring her pleas. She was speaking in Slovak, but Tony didn't need a translation to understand that she was begging him to stop. Tony jumped when the man suddenly struck out, ripping Wanda's shirt open and exposing her chest. Wanda tried to shield herself, her face a mask of horror, but the man knocked her to the floor and began unzipping his pants.
Tony spun and vomited into the trash again. Vision stood silently beside him as he retched.
"Turn it off." He gasped. "I can't…"
The screen disappeared. Tony stayed hunched over, one hand shaking over his mouth and the other gripping the work bench for dear life.
"I watched all of it." Vision said, his voice startlingly raw with emotion. "While it appears that there was no penile penetration, what was done to Miss Maximoff would still classify as rape under the updated definition by the Department of Justice. Although the Accords created enough gray area in the rights of enhanced people that they may have a legal loophole to avoid prosecution." He hesitated briefly. "There are six more videos after this one before Captain Rogers rescued them."
"Jesus Christ." Tony said hoarsely.
The silence was heavy.
"I think I understand Ultron a little more now." Vision suddenly said quietly.
Tony looked up at him in alarm. "You're not gonna go full terminator are you?"
"No." Vision said softly. "There is good in people and I do believe that should be protected. Genocide is not the answer." His eyes, always so startlingly human, met Tony's. "But it appears none of us, myself included, are infallible. We were wrong about the Accords."
"No shit, Sherlock." Tony pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes hard.
"To our credit, I believe we saw the good in people when we signed the Accords." The android said gently. "I suppose we should have listened to the man who saw the horrors of the Nazis firsthand. Captain Rogers has seen unspeakable horrors that perhaps you and I are not capable of imagining."
"Yeah yeah, Spangles is practically perfect in every way." Tony couldn't help muttering bitterly.
"No one is infallible." Vision repeated. "Even Captain Rogers. He should have told you the truth about your parents."
Tony flinched, but stayed quiet, his brain spinning through potential next steps.
"With all due respect," Vision said slowly. "I do believe it's time to utilize a certain phone you have in your possession."
Tony stood up, grimacing at the mess in the wastebasket. "I don't even want to know how you know about that, Nosey Nelly. But I gotta make a few other calls first."