Chapter 9
In this world, it's just us
-"As It Was" by Harry Styles
Warnings for reference to domestic abuse, panic attacks, and a lot of hugging
The walk to Saint-Zénon was a quiet affair. There was more traffic now that it was mid morning, but thankfully no one seemed to pay too much attention to them. They kept their heads down just in case.
"Hats would be good." Wanda muttered to Steve and he nodded.
Once they reached the outskirts of the little village, they split up. Steve and James went to get a room at a small hotel called Gîte des Hauteurs. Sam and Wanda headed for a second-hand store called La Friperie du Saint-Zénon. A bell on the door jangled as Wanda pushed it open and a bored looking teenager glanced up from their phone.
"Avez-vous du matériel de camping? [Do you have camping gear?]" Sam asked.
The teenager silently pointed to a hanging sign across the store that read "l' activités sportives et plein air."
"Uh, merci." Sam said and the teenager actually rolled their eyes.
The section wasn't very big and was mostly full of old hockey sticks, but they did find a sturdy backpack and two old sleeping bags that both smelled funny.
"Maybe they'll have laundry we can use at the hotel." Sam muttered, making a face.
Wanda found some old hiking boots that were only a little big, some woolen socks, gloves, a warm jacket, and a pair of flannel lined pants. She picked out a few pairs of gloves that looked large enough to fit James' metal hand while Sam tried on boots. They grabbed some worn baseball caps with various Canadian logos.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Sam asked suddenly as they looked through a bin of warmer winter hats.
Wanda felt butterflies of anxiety explode in her stomach, but nodded.
"How do you feel about hugs?"
Wanda blinked at him, surprised. "Umm…"
"I mean after everything, I sort of assumed that you wouldn't want to be touched." Sam clarified, pitching his voice low so the teenager at the front couldn't hear them. "But I shouldn't assume, so I'm asking."
Wanda picked up a hat without really seeing it, her mind whirling. What had James and Sam talked about earlier?
"Wanda." Sam caught her attention again, and his eyes were so kind. "Whatever you feel is ok. You're not gonna hurt my feelings. I have a younger sister, and we grew up in a house where we hugged a lot to show affection." He shrugged, smiling. "I like hugs, but I know not everyone does."
Tears pricked at her eyes, but a smile crept across her face. "I like hugs too."
He grinned at her and she felt a bit of her previous fears fade away. Maybe he didn't think she was too damaged.
"Can I give you a hug, then?" He asked.
"I'd like that."
He opened up his arms and let her step into them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed gently. She had to blink furiously to keep from crying, but she couldn't stop smiling. It was so nice to be hugged. He hugged her until she pulled away, and then he went right back to sorting through hats.
"Did you know that there's something called Healing Touch Therapy for combat veterans?" Sam asked. "I was learning about it in D.C. when I worked at the VA. It was a trial thing, but the results were pretty amazing. Most of the vets said that their ptsd symptoms got less severe."
"I didn't know you worked with veterans." Wanda said, trying to inconspicuously wipe her wet eyes.
Sam, to his credit, pretended not to see. He told her all about his time at the VA and she could tell from the energy radiating from him that this was one of his passions. He seemed to truly love helping people. It made her wonder if there had been someone he hadn't been able to save, but that didn't seem like a conversation to have in La Friperie du Saint-Zénon.
After they checked out, awkwardly trying to figure out the Canadian money system while the teenage clerk looked highly annoyed, they headed for the hotel.
"Wow." Said Sam when they saw it.
"Wow." Echoed Wanda in amusement. "That is bright."
Gîte des Hauteurs was a large wooden house that was painted a shade of yellow that was almost blinding. The blue trim was equally bright making the entire thing look like a child's toy come to life. As they approached, Steve came out of a side door and motioned to them. They followed him into Room 2b, which smelled like something that reminded Wanda of her grandmother's house in Sokovia.
"Could you have found a more conspicuous building?" Sam asked dryly.
The room was dimly lit and wood paneled. The first room contained a futon, a kitchenette, a small child's school desk, and a tv from the 90's. Beyond it was a bedroom with a queen sized bed. James was sitting on the futon grinning.
"Oh it's too late to avoid attention here." James said. "The owner just fell in love with Steve."
Steve's ears turned pink.
"Oh do tell." Sam said, grinning widely as he set the bags on the coffee table.
"She's at least eighty years old, Buck." Steve muttered.
"Ah, finally dating in your age bracket." Sam crossed his arms looking delighted.
Wanda started laughing as Steve groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Beatrice is a lovely woman." Steve said in a stern voice. "And all I did was help her change a few lightbulbs."
"Is that a euphemism from the 40's?" Sam turned to James
"No!" Steve glared at all of them. "Sam and Wanda, did you find what you needed?
Wanda took pity on him and rummaged through the bags, passing out the clothing items. She was pleased to see all of the gloves fit James' metal hand.
"Do you think there's laundry we could use?" Sam asked, pulling out the smelly sleeping bags.
"If Steve asks Beatrice, I bet there will be." James said slyly.
Steve rolled his eyes again and grabbed the sleeping bags. "Wanda, you want to come?"
Wanda followed Steve through the hallway and into the front lobby, which was more like the front room of a home. There was an ancient looking kitchen and several dining tables. An elderly woman was bustling around the kitchen cooking something that smelled delicious.
'Bonjour Béatrice. Puis-je demander une question? [Hello Beatrice. May I ask you a question?] " Steve said.
The elderly woman turned around and her face lit up at the sight of Steve. Beatrice looked like a grandmother from a storybook, all round curves, smiling wrinkles, wire framed glasses, and gray hair done up in a bun on the top of her head. Then her gaze fell on Wanda and her smile quickly fell away, replaced by a look of horror. All of Wanda's muscles tensed, preparing to flee. Had she been recognized?
"Que t'est-il arrivé, chère fille? [What happened to you, dear girl?]" Beatrice gasped, but in the same breath continued. "Non, ne réponds pas. S'il vous plaît, venez avec moi un instant. [No, don't answer. Please come with me for a moment.]
The old woman reached for Wanda's arm, a fierce look of determination on her face. Wanda quickly skimmed the emotions radiating from her: protective and kind and worried. Her fear whooshed out of her, making her legs feel shaky. She had honestly forgotten about her battered face. It looked so much better than it had. The dark bruises had faded to yellow, but they were definitely still noticeable. The bandage around her neck was mostly hidden by her shirt, but Beatrice seemed to have noticed everything in just one glance. Beatrice gently took her arm and started pulling her towards another room.
"Attends, Béatrice-" Steve started, taking a step towards them.
Beatrice turned and fixed him with a look that stopped him in his tracks. "Steven, tu restes là. [Steven, you stay there.]" She snapped.
"Oui m'dame. [Yes ma'am.]" Steve said automatically, but his eyes were questioning Wanda.
It's ok. Wanda mouthed at him and he nodded faintly.
Beatrice took her into a smaller sitting room that looked like it came straight out of an interior design magazine in the 1970's. She pulled her down to sit on an olive green velvet couch and took both of Wanda's hands in hers. Behind her glasses Beatrice's eyes were sharp.
"Ma chérie, qui t'a fait du mal? [Honey, who hurt you?]" She asked gently, but firmly.
Wanda took a deep breath and tried to think fast. What story would Nat come up with?
"Je m'appelle Hana. Je suis la soeur de Steven. Je promets, je vais bien. [My name is Hana. I am Steven's sister. I promise, I am fine.]"
Wanda said the first name that came to mind. Hana had been one of her closest friends in school. She had died in the apartment explosion along with Wanda's parents. Beatrice narrowed her eyes and looked about to argue with her definition of fine , so Wanda quickly continued.
"J'avais un petit-copain. C'était une mauvaise personne. [I had a boyfriend. He was a bad person.]"
It didn't take much work to let the tears fill her eyes. The American's face materialized in her mind and she tried hard to push it away. Not now. You can't have a flashback now. Her hands started to shake and Beatrice's mouth formed an angry line. She forced herself to continue.
"J'ai vécu avec lui, mais les choses ont vraiment mal tourné. Steven et ses amis sont venus et m'ont sauvé. [I lived with him, but things got really bad. Steven and his friends came and saved me.]"
Beatrice's eyes were damp, but she looked slightly less likely to stab Steve with a knitting needle. Wanda managed a watery smile.
"Je promets, je suis en sécurité maintenant. [I promise, I am safe now.]"
"Bon! [Well!]" Beatrice took a shaky breath and released Wanda's hands. "Je suis désolé d'avoir agi de façon aussi folle, Hana. [I'm sorry for acting so crazy, Hana.]"
"Ç'est bon. [That's alright.]"
"Je suis très doué pour lire l'énergie des gens, et Steven ne semblait pas être une mauvaise personne, mais je me suis trompé auparavant. [I'm very good at reading people's energy, and Steven didn't seem like a bad person, but I was wrong before.]."
Steve was still standing exactly where he'd been when they left the room. His expression was wary, but Beatrice shuffled right up to him and patted his arm gently.
"Tu es un bon frère, chéri. Hana a de la chance de t'avoir. [You're a good brother, darling. Hana is lucky to have you.]" She said simply.
Thankfully she immediately went to the kitchen to stir whatever was bubbling gently on the stove and missed the way Steve's eyebrows nearly launched off his face. Wanda fought a wince.
"It's ok, Steven." She said, coming to sling an arm around Steve's waist like she would have with Pietro. "I told her what happened with my ex. I am very lucky that I have a big brother who will get his two best friends and come save me."
She wasn't sure if Beatrice spoke English, but hopefully she had communicated enough of her story to Steve. She smiled up at him, hoping he understood. She needn't have worried. He immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled fondly down at her.
"I'm very lucky to have a little sister who was brave enough to ask for help." He said.
"That is beautiful." Beatrice said in heavily accented English. "L'amour d'une famille est plus grande bénédiction mortes. [Life's greatest blessing is a loving family.]"
Steve gave her a final squeeze and released her. He held up the sleeping bags in his other hand and looked at them like he'd forgotten they were there.
"Euh donc je voulais demander. Y a-t-il un endroit pour faire la lessive? [Uh so I wanted to ask. Is there a place to do laundry?]"
"Bien sûr, tu peux utiliser la lessive, ma chérie. [Of course you may use the laundry, sweetheart.]" Beatrice beamed at him.
She bustled the two of them down some rickety wooden steps to a basement with stone walls and a dirt floor, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as she showed them how to work the washer and dryer. After they made it back upstairs, she suddenly stopped mid sentence and fixed Steve with a fierce look.
"Steven, as-tu assez de lits dans ta chambre? Où est-ce que ta sœur va dormir? [Steven, do you have enough beds in your room? Where is your sister going to sleep?]"
Steve faltered, looking startled by the sudden turn in conversation. "Uhh, non, nous allons bien. Nous avons assez de place. [Uhh, no, we're fine. We have enough room.]"
Beatrice didn't look convinced. "Tant que personne ne dort par terre. Ici. Apportez des madeleines avec vous. James avait l'air d'avoir besoin d'un gâteau sec. [As long as no one is sleeping on the floor. Here. Bring some madeleines with you. James looked like he could use a cookie.]"
They were both silent until they reached the safety of their room. Wanda walked in first, holding the parcel of cookies, and Steve shut the door behind them and groaned. Both Sam and James looked up sharply from where they were sitting on the couch watching a hockey game.
"I'm so sorry Wanda." Steve said, scrubbing a hand roughly across his face. "I should have realized people would notice your injuries."
"What happened?"
James was up and at Wanda's side so quickly that she jumped. Sam followed close behind.
"It's fine. I'm fine." Wanda said quickly. "I'm sorry…I had to think so quickly…I hope it's ok…"
"What happened?" James repeated steadily, reaching out and taking her hand with his non metal one.
"Beatrice saw Wanda's bruises and her neck and assumed that one of us did it." Steve looked miserable. "She dragged her into another room and asked her what happened."
"It really was ok." Wanda insisted. She curled her fingers around James' hand, grateful for the warmth. "She was worried. It was actually sweet. I just hope that the story I came up with is ok."
"What's the story, Wanda?" Sam asked patiently.
Wanda relayed the vague details she'd given Beatrice, and all three men nodded.
"Yeah, that sounds good." Sam said easily. "Simple. Believable. Well done, Wanda."
"We should have talked about this beforehand." James said in a low voice dangerously near a growl.
"Well let's talk about it now." Steve took the parcel from Wanda and held it up. "We have cookies."
Fifteen minutes later the cookies were gone and they had a decent backstory. Hana and Steven Carter (Sam and James had both looked at Steve with a slightly pained expression when he said that was the last name he gave Beatrice and Wanda felt like she was missing something important.) were siblings from New York. Hana had recently called Steven for help getting away from her abusive boyfriend. Steven had gathered his two best friends, James and Thomas ("Shut up, Bucky. That's my middle name." Said Sam) and rescued her and then brought Hana along on their backpacking across Canada trip.
"Natasha would smack all of us for taking this long to come up with a story." Wanda said with a slight smile.
Steve smiled, but the lines around his eyes were tight. Wanda watched him carefully, taking note of the way his jaw clenched just briefly. She had wondered if there was something between Steve and Natasha, but the two of them were so private about their personal lives. They hadn't heard from Natasha, and there had also been no news of Clint and Scott being back in custody. It had only been about a day, but it was still hard not knowing if they were safe.
Thinking about Clint hurt.
Wanda hoped he was safe and hoped he was with his family, but at the same time she still desperately wished he was here. He would probably love this garish yellow house and Beatrice's cookies.
So would Pietro.
Jebne ma.
The sorrow and guilt rose in her throat like bile. Sometimes she would realize that she hadn't thought of Pietro at all in days. The idea that she might be losing her brother's memory was horrifying. She closed her eyes and saw her father standing in that abandoned Sokovian house screaming at her, his voice ragged with pain.
Kde je tvoj brat, Wanda? [Where is your brother, Wanda?]
She opened her eyes and tried to take a steadying breath. Sam and Steve were making a grocery list. She watched Steve, noted the way he furrowed his brow and how he ran his hand through his hair when he was thinking. There were no physical similarities that she could see between her actual brother and the man who would be play-acting her brother. Pietro had always been tall and lanky. Steve was built like an action figure. Pietro's nose had been longer, like hers. Even their energies were different. Pietro was all mischief where Steve radiated honesty. She tried to imagine what Pietro would say if he could see her now, pretending to be Captain America's little sister.
Máte aj vy červený, biely a modrý outfit? [Do you have a red, white, and blue outfit too?]
She wandered over and perched on the corner of the futon and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. She opened it and stared hard at the page without seeing it. Maybe she had told Beatrice her name was Hana because Hana could be Steve's sister. Wanda could not. Wanda already had a brother, and he was dead in a lonely grave at the Avenger's Compound.
"See yah in a bit."
James closed the door behind Steve and Sam and turned to look at Wanda. She was still sitting motionless on the sofa, holding a magazine like she was frozen. He was pretty sure she hadn't turned a page even once. She hadn't acknowledged Steve and Sam calling their goodbyes as they left for the grocery store. He hoped she didn't have any strong opinions about what kind of bread they got because she hadn't responded to their questions. Sam had advised they leave her alone, but James wasn't sure he could follow that advice much longer. Plus he had a good excuse. He made himself wait five more minutes and then made his move.
He perched next to her on the futon and she startled. He smiled apologetically and held up the roll of gauze.
"Sorry, but can I change your bandage?"
"Oh sure." She murmured.
She pulled her long hair out of the way and stared at a spot on the wall as he carefully removed the old bandage. The burn on her neck was looking better, but it still made him want to put his fist through someone's head when the bandage came off. He followed the instructions Shuri had given them, working quickly. Throughout all of it, Wanda seemed like she was somewhere far away. After he finished, she was still staring off into space, and he couldn't help lifting his non-mental hand and gently cradling her cheek, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.
"Hey." He said gently.
She blinked, like she was coming back to herself, and met his eyes. Her eyes were a dark chocolate brown, almost black, but with flecks of gold. The deep sorrow there felt like a blow to his gut.
"What's going on?"
She shrugged. "Sorry, I'm just tired."
He raised an eyebrow. "Well that's a load of shit."
Wanda looked startled. "What?"
"Something is hurting you."
He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone again and she shivered lightly. It was suddenly very hard to swallow. He had to fight the urge to do it again.
"Wanda, you can talk to me." He said softly. "Let me help."
Her eyes glittered and she took a deep breath. He could see her trying to push all that pain back, but it was like he'd made a crack in the dam.
"Sometimes I'm afraid I'm forgetting Pietro." She finally whispered and her eyes overflowed.
James pulled her into his arms and she curled into him again like she had in the Hydra safehouse. The feeling of her in his arms was intoxicating, and he was so grateful she'd asked. Selfishly, it brought him as much comfort as it seemed to bring her. He had flashes of memory of holding her in a damp, cold castle room, her red hair spilling over his metal arm.
He pulled those memories back and tried to focus on her brother. He remembered a scrawny teenage boy with dark hair and fierce eyes. He had been incredibly protective of his sister, and the two of them were always together until Hydra took him for testing. Pietro was the very first to survive the experiments with the scepter, so Hydra took a long time to study him before they did it again with Wanda. He hadn't interacted with them much before Pietro was taken besides guarding their room and escorting them through the halls. He probably wouldn't have interacted with Wanda much afterwards, but she had been relentless in her loneliness.
"You want to tell me about him?" He asked. "I remember…some. He was very protective of you."
"He was my best friend." Her voice wobbled and cracked. "Even when everything was horrible, I still had Pietro."
James' chest ached for her. He remembered Pietro grinning, full of mischief, cracking quips at the Hydra soldiers. But he also remembered Pietro crouched protectively in front of his sister as she lay unconscious on the street with her broken leg, teeth bared, ready to fight to the death to protect her. His head pounded, pushing himself to remember, but he continued on.
"He tried to steal my boots once." James said slowly, squinting through the haze of pain.
He had an image of waking up immediately to the feel of his boot sliding off his foot, pinning the teenager to the wall with his metal hand, and Pietro laughing while holding his hands up in surrender.
"Entschuldigung, tut mir leid, ich wollte nur wissen, ob Sie einen Metallfuß haben! [Sorry, I'm sorry, I just wanted to know if you had a metal foot!]"
Wanda let out a watery laugh. "I remember that. I was so afraid you were going to kill him."
"He reminded me of someone." The pounding in his head intensified. "Someone from…before Hydra…"
"James."
He realized he was squeezing his eyes shut, his face a grimace of pain. He opened his eyes and looked down at Wanda's worried face.
"Does it hurt? Remembering?" She asked quietly, realization shining in her eyes.
"Always." He surprised himself with his own honesty. "The farther back, the worse it is."
Her mouth turned down in a frown. "Do you think I could help? Maybe if I went in your head I could-"
James wasn't prepared for the way his body locked up. The room swam and Wanda's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. His metal first whined quietly, desperately wanting to curl into a fist. Don't hurt her. Don't you fucking hurt her. A small part of his mind was still screaming, even as the instinct to fight or flee flooded his body with adrenaline.
"James."
Her warm hands were cupping his face.
Don't hurt her! His mind screamed as his hands twitched.
"James, I will never go in your head without your permission." She was saying fiercely.
Her eyes were still chocolate brown, no red to be seen. She's not in your head. But the pressure on his face from her hands was making that broken thing in his head scream endlessly. He could feel the metal paddles resting against his cheek. He could taste the rubber mouthguard. He was breathing too fast, his entire body tensing for the onslaught of pain. His vision was going black at the edges.
Don't fucking hurt her!
He slowly regained awareness. The first thing he realized was that he was laying on his back. The second was that warm hands were gently carding through his hair.
"Dobrú noc, má milá, dobrú noc,
nech ti je Pán Boh sám na pomoc
Dobrú noc, dobre spi,
nech sa ti snívajú sladké sny."
The words were repeating, sung in a low gentle voice. A lullaby. He realized numbly. He blinked and his eyes slowly focused on a face above him. Red hair framed her face and there were tears in her warm brown eyes, but her voice was steady as she continued to sing.
He blinked again, and it was like having double vision. He was here, but he was also in that cold stone room in Sokovia. He was laying on her rickety bed just like this with his head in her lap, her hands in his hair. She was singing the same song.
He sucked in a ragged gasp. His face felt wet, but his breathing was slowing.
"Did I hurt you?" He choked out.
"No." Wanda smiled softly down at him, tears rolling down her face. "That was the first thing you asked last time too."
He felt some of the tension ease from his body. He hadn't hurt her. He hadn't failed his mission to keep her safe.
Interesting. Mission, huh?
"Gotta be consistent."
She laughed shakily, but sobered quickly. "I'm sorry, I should have realized that could be a….what does Sam call it? A trigger?"
He sat up, feeling exhausted and heavy. Her hands fell into her lap where they twisted nervously together.
"S'okay, Wanda." He rubbed his forehead where the pain had faded to a dull ache. "We're all still figuring it out."
She hummed softly in agreement, but he could still see the guilt in her face. He reached out and took one of her hands, squeezing gently.
"Thank you." He said roughly. "For bringing me back again."
She smiled so sweetly, and he felt something flutter in his chest. "Always."
"Jim Morita." He said suddenly.
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"That's who Pietro reminded me of." He swallowed hard. The pain was less intense now, but it still lingered. "He was one of the Howling Commandos. He was a pain in the ass, always pranking us and joking around and never knew when to shut up. But he was always there when we needed him. He always had my back."
"That sounds like Pietro." Wanda said quietly with a small, sad smile.
They sat quietly for a while, holding hands on the futon and both thinking about the loved ones they'd lost. Eventually Wanda shifted over and laid her head on his shoulder.
"Is this ok?" She murmured.
"Yeah." He said hoarsely.
And it was. It really was.
AN: Gîte des Hauteurs is a real place that is really yellow. Beatrice is fictional, but I have fallen in love with her, so pls advise how I can make her my real grandma.