Chapter 8

May the homeward path rise up under your feet and lead you gladly home

Warnings for reference to torture, ptsd flashbacks, implied sexual assault,

After a few hours of searching the Hydra safehouse they had two backpacks already packed with basic camping gear, a four person tent, and warm jackets that fit James and Steve. Unfortunately there was no food and no boots. Sam, James, and Steve each picked out a glock and James grabbed a sniper rifle packed neatly in a backpack. Wanda lost count of how many knives James strapped to his body.

"Damn, man, how many knives does one person need?" Sam asked at one point.

"Always one more." James responded, not even bothering to look up.

Steve was frowning down at the glock in his hand. Wanda realized she wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him hold a gun before.

"Steve, you don't have to take a gun if you don't want to." Wanda said quietly.

Steve sighed. "I know. But I'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

Wanda watched him double check that the gun was unloaded before putting it in his backpack. She wondered if he felt lost without his shield. She still didn't know exactly what had happened in Siberia, but she knew that Tony had fought Steve and James and that Tony had Steve's shield. Whatever had happened, it was messy and it weighed on Steve when he thought no one was looking.

"Do you know how to shoot a pistol?" Steve asked.

"No." Wanda answered honestly. "But I don't need to. I have my powers."

Steve looked up at her from where he was sitting on a metal stool. His blue eyes were far too perceptive.

"Have you used your powers since you put that dome around Bucky?"

Wanda shifted uncomfortably. "No."

"How come?"

She raised a hand to fiddle with the bandage around her neck. The memories surged up viciously, crowding towards the forefront of her mind.

The smell of her own flesh burning.

Her throat raw from screaming.

She shrugged, or tried to.

"I hope you know that it's ok to be scared, Wanda." Steve was saying gently. "You were tortured. That's not something easily shaken off."

Wanda tucked her hands behind her back where he couldn't see them trembling.

"Putting that collar on you, that was evil. You did not deserve that."

The pain around her neck felt like fire.

She couldn't breathe.

"Wanda?"

Her muscles seizing out of her control.

She wanted to die.

Please.

"-da?"

Please just let me die.

Someone was reaching for her, and she scrambled backwards so fast that she crashed hard into a wall.

"Nedotýkaj sa ma! [Don't touch me!]" She gasped.

Endless fiery lightning in her veins drowning everything out until there was nothing left but pain.

"What do you want? What do you want? Please, please just tell me and I'll give it to you!"

Blood dribbling out from between her clenched teeth.

"Wanda, you're safe." The voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "The collar is gone. No one is going to touch you. You're safe. The collar can't hurt you anymore."

It was like seeing a tiny sliver of light in a dark tunnel. She stumbled towards it, crawled on her hands and knees, dragged her body forward.

"Si v bezpečí. Si v bezpečí, Wanda. [You're safe. You're safe, Wanda.]"

She came to curled in a ball on the dirty floor, shaking violently and sweating. James was sitting on the floor a few feet away. Behind him Steve was crouched looking miserable. The stool was laying sideways on the floor. Sam was standing next to Steve, a hand on his shoulder like he was holding him back.

"Prepáč. [Sorry.]" She realized she was mumbling over and over.

"Nemusíte sa ospravedlňovať. [You don't have to apologize.]" James said quietly.

"What is she saying?" She heard Steve ask.

"Sorry." James translated.

"Wanda." Steve sounded tortured. "You don't have to apologize. It's my fault."

"Hey Steve, how about you come take a look around outside with me?" Sam asked kindly.

Wanda closed her eyes and listened to their footsteps go back up the stairs. In the silence she opened her eyes again. James was still sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning on his knees, those grey blue eyes focused on her.

"Hey." He said.

Wanda forced her trembling limbs to uncurl and sit up. She was covered in dust and when she ran her hands through her tangled hair, her fingers came back sticky with cobwebs. Her face was wet.

"You want to talk about it?" James asked.

"No." She said automatically.

He studied her face. "Sam would probably say somethin' about how talking helps."

"Does it help you?" She asked sharply.

"Sometimes." James said, a shadow passing over his face.

Wanda scrubbed her sleeves over her face, feeling embarrassed and weak . She wished Pietro were here. He would pull her into a hug and just hold her. Perhaps being comfortable with physical affection was a twin thing. They'd shared a womb together after all. She had a vague memory of an ultrasound picture her mother had taped to the fridge, two blurry head shapes pressed together. Nearly all of her early memories included Pietro at her side, hugging, wrestling, holding hands, cuddling, fighting.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why she had been drawn to Vision. He had often rested a gentle hand on her shoulder or her leg. He wasn't afraid to sit close to her as they watched old tv shows. After Pietro's death, no one at the Compound ever touched her. Clint always gave her a giant hug or threw his arm around her, but she'd only seen him two or three times after they'd returned from Sokovia. Tony actively avoided her as though he tolerated her presence by pretending she didn't exist. She didn't really blame him, and to be honest, she avoided him too. Natasha didn't show physical affection to anyone, at least not that Wanda saw. Steve was always kind, but distant. Sam was the same. Even when they trained together, no one touched her. She practiced moving people with her powers and they trained her to fight from a distance. It had meant a lot to her that her teammates hadn't been afraid to let her powers touch them, but sometimes she longed for physical touch so badly, it hurt.

On the Raft, she'd gone from one extreme to the other. There she was constantly assaulted with touch. The guards loved to grab her by the hair. She was slapped and kicked. Sometimes they would gently touch her, but usually it was a cruel pretense before stabbing an electric baton into her ribs. The scientists and doctors touched her like she was a thing while she was restrained to a chair and begging them to stop. The American touched her in ways that her mind still tried to shove down somewhere dark where she could pretend they'd never happened.

She pressed her fists into her eyes. Her sleeves grew damp and she realized she was crying.

"Wanda, how can I help?" James asked quietly.

She remembered him holding her in the shower. She'd felt…safe. She suddenly craved that feeling again so strongly that it made her chest ache.

"Will you just…just hold me?" She asked in a small voice.

She didn't drop her hands from where she was pressing her sleeves into her eyes. She didn't want to see his reaction. Maybe he would be disgusted or think she was childish. Maybe he would think she meant something sexual. Her stomach flipped in sudden terror. Maybe she should-

His human hand gently touched her arm, and she froze. She felt him slide over to sit beside her against the wall. His hand skated up her arm and across her back to curl around her shoulders.

"Is this ok?" He murmured and she nodded mutely, her heart pounding violently.

His metal hand moved, reaching around the front of her body. He tugged gently once, almost experimentally. When she moved with him, he slowly pulled her against his chest and wrapped both arms around her. She curled into him like her body immediately knew how to fit against his. The familiarity of this, the feel of his arms around her, felt like home.

It was such a strong, unexpected emotion that suddenly she was crying even harder. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, murmuring soft things in Slovak. He was so warm and she finally dropped her hands to curl them into his shirt, his warmth seeping into her frozen fingers. Finally she seemed to cry herself out, but she still didn't move. His shirt was wet under her cheek. He was still holding her securely against his chest, breathing steadily. It was so nice to be held by him. She was afraid to really delve into the why, but he was a comforting person from her past. She had precious few of those left. Well, she had exactly one .

Maybe a deadly ex-assassin was her security blanket.

She was so tired that as soon as the thought popped into her head, a slightly hysterical laugh slipped out.

James pulled back and looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. "What's so funny?"

Her face heated, and her mind spun with how to answer him. She said the first thing that came to her mind.

"I might take you up on that body heat thing."

Well if her face hadn't been red before, it certainly was now. He blinked, looking surprised, and then grinned crookedly.

"I thought Steve had that covered."

"Well Steve doesn't have a warm side and a cold side like a good pillow." She tapped her fingers on his cool metal arm that was still wrapped around her.

He blinked again and then laughed long and hard. She grinned, absurdly pleased to have made him laugh like that.

"Wow, am I interrupting?"

Wanda jumped at Sam's voice. James didn't seem startled, so he must have heard Sam coming back down the stairs. Wanda felt her face flush again as she met Sam's eyes, imagining what this must look like to him. They were both sitting on the floor and she was practically in James' lap, wrapped up in his arms.

"Yes, go away." James said lightly to Sam, apparently completely unphased at being caught in their current position.

"Steve is a saint for putting up with you all these years, Casanova." Sam rolled his eyes. "Come on, we need to go get some breakfast before Steve gets hangry."

James made a confused face and Sam sighed. "Hangry is when you get super crabby when you're hungry."

"What did the English language do to deserve this?" James muttered.

He still hadn't moved from holding Wanda, which was oddly endearing and embarrassing at the same time. Wanda wiggled and he immediately released her. She stood up, brushing off her clothes, and not quite meeting Sam's eyes, her face still warm.

"Wanda, will you take these backpacks up to Steve?" Sam asked. "And Bucky, can you give me a hand over here?"

Wanda grabbed the backpacks and hurried up the stairs. She didn't miss the look Sam was giving James. She'd seen it on Pietro's face more than once when she'd had crushes on boys in Sokovia. She'd hated it when he pulled the "I'm the big brother" card.

She wasn't sure how she felt about Sam doing it.

James watched Wanda flee up the stairs and braced himself.

"What the hell are you doing, man?" Sam snapped as soon as she was out of earshot.

"Sam-" James sighed.

"No, you listen. Wanda is a kid-"

"She's twenty-four, Sam! Back in my day most people had at least two or three kids by that age!"

"Well we're not back in your day, are we? You're what, a hundred years old?"

"Ok, technically I'm more like thirty something-"

"She is hurting. She needs support-"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"Look, you had a certain reputation 'back in your day' and Wanda is like a sister to me, ok? So don't flirt with my sister or I'm gonna-"

"Or you're gonna what, Sam? I'm not flirting -"

"That was definitely flirting."

"She asked me to hold her. She asked like she thought I was gonna refuse. When's the last time you ever gave her a hug? You're right, she is hurting and she does need support, but keeping her at arm's length just makes her feel like she's a broken thing no one wants."

They stared at each other. James was breathing hard, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"You talking about Wanda or yourself?" Sam asked quietly.

James made a frustrated sound through his teeth, trying to rein his emotions back in.

"Look, she was sexually abused on the Raft. That's a shattering experience to go through and it's not something people get over quickly. Recovery takes time-"

"I know , Sam! Goddammit, I know. "

James knew he was speaking too loud, but he couldn't stop it. He hated how his voice shook. Hated how Sam's eyes had widened, realization creeping over his face.

"Did you really think Hydra would break me in every way but that?" His metal hand clenched into a fist, whirring madly. "You really think they'd turn me into a mindless machine and not make me suck their-"

He broke off, shaking. Sam's face was filled with horror. James turned and slammed his metal fist into the wall, punching a hole straight through the concrete.

"I'm sorry, Buck." Sam said softly. "I didn't know."

James pulled his arm out of the wall, ignoring the rubble that fell down around his feet. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cool concrete. He could hear Sam taking deep even breaths and subconsciously copied him.

"Hydra was a fucking monster." Sam said finally. "You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it can be hard to tell Steve stuff about Hydra. He takes on so much guilt, even though it's not his fault, and that's not really helpful for you. But it can help to talk about it, even though it's hard." There was a pause. "And just for the record, I do not think you're broken. I think you're a pain in the ass. Big difference." James could hear the smile in Sam's voice.

James let out a heavy breath and pushed himself off the wall. He fixed Sam with his best Asset stare, flat and intimidating, and felt slightly better when Sam visibly faltered at the sight of it.

"Likewise, pal." He curled his lips up, showing his teeth in what he hoped was a menacing smile.

"That's creepy as shit, man." Sam muttered, shaking his head, but the atmosphere felt a little lighter.

Wanda wasn't really listening to Steve talk about the town of Saint-Zénon. Her mind was busy imagining all the possible things Sam could be saying to James. Pietro had always gone the route of telling boys they weren't good enough for her. She liked Sam, and he was friendly enough, but she wasn't really sure what he thought of her. Maybe he was telling James that she wasn't good enough for him. She crossed her arms across her chest, hugging herself tightly. She felt dirty , like what those people on the Raft had done to her had ruined her.

"Wanda?"

She blinked and looked at Steve. He was watching her, eyes narrowed, like she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

"Are you ok?" He asked gently.

"I'm fine." She forced herself to smile. Maybe if she said it enough times it would come true like a magic spell. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

He gave her a look like he didn't quite believe her, but he didn't press. "I was just trying to figure out lodging. We could camp, but we only have two sleeping bags. There's a little store in Saint-Zénon where we can probably find more gear. I'm thinking we stay in a hotel in Saint-Zénon tonight and then camp on our way to Montreal."

"Sounds good to me." She said.

Did it sound good? She had no idea. She felt like she was just floating along, following these three men like a ghost. The future stretched out like a bleak, grey landscape. Was this going to be the rest of her life?

"Hey, there you are!"

Wanda looked up at Steve's exclamation to see James and Sam emerging from the trailer house. They both looked grave. Wanda felt her stomach drop.

"What should we do with these?" Sam asked, holding up a handful of polaroids. "It felt wrong to leave them."

Steve looked as nauseous as Wanda felt. "Maybe we should destroy them."

"No!" Wanda blurted out.

They all looked at her, surprised. She fiddled anxiously with her sleeve, trying to find the words to explain. These people had died violent deaths. Simply destroying the only thing left of them, these photographs, felt disrespectful.

"Their spirits need to be put to rest." She said quietly. "We should have a pohrebný obrad."

"A funeral ceremony?" James translated.

Steve and James both looked confused, but Sam smiled.

"I think that's a great idea." Sam said.

They decided to burn the photographs on a small crude pyre that Sam and Steve and James created from fallen branches. Wanda wandered through the trees, collecting any white wildflowers that she could find. There weren't many still blooming in the fall, but she was able to find a few. At home in Sokovia, they had always used white lilies and chrysanthemums to honor the dead, but she could work with what she had. She laid the flowers on top of the photographs, covering the bloody horrors with white petals.

Sam knelt and lit the wood underneath the photographs. The dry wood caught quickly, sending up sparks as it engulfed the pyre. Wanda felt the warm hum of her powers flow through her and words filled her mouth. Her voice sounded deeper, richer as she chanted.

"Nech je na Východe mier, Duchovia vzduchu, darcovia dychu, tak nech je. [Let there be peace in the East, Spirits of Air, givers of breath, so be it.]
Nech je mier na juhu, duchovia ohňa, darcovia ducha, tak nech je. [Let there be peace in the South, Spirits of Fire, givers of spirit, so be it.]
Nech je na Západe mier, Duchovia Vody, darcovia krvi, tak nech je. [Let there be peace in the West, Spirits of Water, givers of blood, so be it.]
Nech je mier na Severe, Duchovia Zeme, darcovia tela, tak nech je. [Let there be peace in the North, Spirits of Earth, givers of body, so be it.]

Si povolaný z miesta svojho bývania, [You have been called from the place of your dwelling,]
Nech ťa vedú požehnané duše, [May blessed souls guide you,]
Nech vás pomáhajúci duchovia vedú, [May helping spirits lead you,]
Nechajte Zberateľ duší, aby vám zavolal, [May the Gatherer of Souls call you,]
Nech sa vám pod nohami zdvihne cesta domov [May the homeward path rise up under your feet]
A viesť ťa šťastne domov. [And lead you gladly home.]"

Wanda vaguely heard James quietly translating. As the last word left her tongue, the warmth faded away, leaving her slightly chilled. She blinked, feeling dazed, and looked across the fire to see all three men staring at her with something like awe on their faces.

"Where did you learn that?" Sam asked.

"I…" Wanda faltered. Where had those words come from?

"Your eyes were glowing." Steve said.

"I don't know." Wanda whispered. "They just came to me."

"That was beautiful." James said quietly.

The four of them fell silent, watching the polaroids disappear into the flames. The air felt heavy and solemn. None of them spoke. Wanda turned the words over in her mind as she watched. She couldn't explain it, but it felt like they came from her very soul. As the pyre slowly crumbled to ash, Wanda followed the smoke up to the sky and hoped that the spirits really did find their way home.

AN: The funeral rites that Wanda says are a mix of old pagan burial traditions and my own writing.