#Pietro maximoff x OC

[sebsbarnes]

hole in the wall || pietro maximoff

pietro maximoff x f!reader

summary: despite barely knowing the brainwashed girl beyond the wall, pietro refused to hurt her, no matter how much she hurt him.

word count: 5k+

warnings: fighting, none rlly??

a/n: the russian is translated so i apologize if the translation is wrong. i wrote for pietro years ago but this is my first time in awhile :P reader is subjected to the same torture as bucky bc the character is kinda him, inaccuracies in the mcu but nothing crazy

masterlist

pietro often wondered about the girl who was held next door. he'd hear the screeching metal against the floor followed by a slight commotion and then a thud on the floor. small shuffling could be heard and then it was silence. no movement, no talking, no heavy breathing or cries, silence until the next time the metal door unleashed its harrowing song, and large boots could be heard entering the cell and dragging the girl away.

pietro couldn't tell how long he'd really been here nor how long it had been since the mysterious girl next to him was there but he did know it had been months on end and yet he had never seen a glimpse of the girl that shared the wall with him.

there was a small hole in the cement that allowed him to peer into the girl's cell but each time he looked he was met with the grey wall from beyond. he had heard murmurs that she was young like him and wanda. strong, fearless, one of the doctor's favorites. she was often sent out on missions and came back unscathed. each mission she was sent on was a success as if the concept of failure was unfathomable. she apparently spoke little, only when instructed, never talked back, never laughed, never screamed. almost robotic.

which is why it came to pietro's surprise after hearing the thud of her knees hit the floor and the guards march away he heard a soft sniffle. and then slightly louder ones followed by rapid and heavy breathing. pietro scuffled over to the hole in the wall and peered through. he could see her sitting against the far wall with her legs tucked closely to her, her forehead resting on her knees. he could only see half her body from where she was sitting but he could see her shoulder shaking.

"you... you need to breathe in and out. you are going to make yourself pass out," pietro was unsure, his voice quiet but loud enough for her to hear. her head shot up and looked directly at the hole. her hair was sticking to her face, her mouth was slightly parted, and eyes wide and red.

"it's okay. my name is pietro. you don't need to talk but i... i wanted to see if you are okay. you've never even made a noise before now," he felt funny slightly confessing the fact he's been taking note of your actions.

he watched as you wiped the tears off your cheek and raked the hair off your face.

"i don't know how i am," your voice sounded like you hadn't spoken in days.

"it's okay to not know."

from where you sat you could only see the boy's eye. it was a striking blue, "like the sky," you murmured.

"what?" you heard the voice call back.

you slowly stood up dragging your chained feet over to the wall. you held the wall, steadying yourself before sitting with a huff, "your eyes remind me of the sky."

pietro wasn't sure what to say back. he went months not hearing your voice or seeing you, only knowing the tales that the guards spoke of yet here you were inches from him, broken down and giving a compliment. a much different reality to the one he thought he knew before.

pietro didn't hear another word from you, he assumed you fell asleep against the wall. he tried looking through the hole at any angle he could to see you, but all he noticed was a piece of metal gleaming from the dull light in your cell.

a few days had passed since the interaction and pietro had little time to dwell on it. his testing was getting more intense, he was constantly being injected with needles he knew nothing about, there were many monitors reading whatever vitals they needed to document, and his training was becoming more rigorous. he was exhausted, he hadn't been in his cell in two days, and although the cell offered no comfort he much rather be locked behind the bars than strapped to a table.

the guards pushed him down the hallway, taunting him. each time he stood up they would push him back down. the shackles on his wrists rubbed his skin raw and those around his ankles prevented him from running. the guard gripped his shoulder tightly walking past wanda's cell as she called out to her brother.

"wanda!" he screamed out as he watched the other guard reach through the bars and grip at her neck. the guard holding onto him roughly pushed him into the cell causing him to stumble and land on his shoulder, his face grazed the cement floor.

you had heard the commotion from your cell, you stood at the door looking over at the guards who simply laughed at the twins who were now in pain. all you could do was grimace. you hated this, you hated this place, each day you yearned to leave this hell hole you've called home. you heard pietro scream in frustration and then heard his rapid movements as he ran around his cell, thrashing against the walls.

you had seen pietro from a distance a few times. you were never allowed to be near the enhanced people and only managed glimpses of them. you had seen his super speed and the way the scientists trained him. it was brutal and he endured a lot just from the few moments you had witnessed. you started to notice that after particularly rough days he would do this, run back and forth for what seemed like hours on end. slamming into the cement walls that would somehow rattle from the force. he would yell in anger, cursing the guards and scientists for what they were doing.

the noise settled and you hesitantly sat in front of the small hole. you could see his large frame hunched over catching his breath. he ran a hand through his messy silver hair, his white tank top was dirty and slightly damp from his running. you peered behind your shoulder at the hallway making sure it was empty. you swallowed thickly with nerves in fear of getting caught before forcing three fingers into the hole and ripping the cement block from the wall. you could now fit your head through the hole comfortably if you wanted to.

"pietro," you said placing the block beside you. he faltered and gestured with an open hand in confusion at the now gaping hole in the wall. you couldn't help but pull your lips into a tight light suppressing the laugh you wanted to let out at the look on his face. using his speed he rushed to face you, eyes wide examining the open edges of the cement.

"you-"

"are strong," you cut him off jokingly.

the two of you sat staring at each other. it was weird to be face to face after countless months of unknowing the other despite being separated by only a wall. you took in his appearance. he was handsome. up close you could now see the slight curls to his hair and the short facial hair. his shoulders broad and built. under his sky-blue eyes were dark circles from the lack of sleep but it suited him. he was stunning and pietro was thinking the same about you. your hair fell haphazardly across your forehead. your eyes were kind and gentle, much different than the stone-cold eyes he had imagined in his head. your lips were pulled to one side in the tiniest of smiles as you took in his appearance. pietro found it hard to believe the stories he has heard about your reputation as he stared at you. expression soft, eyes and smile kind, you looked battered and worn down but still so youthful as if you didn't fit in with the surrounding grey walls.

"are you okay?" you finally asked.

pietro's nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered shut, "i don't know."

you hesitated a moment before repeating his words from a few days prior, "it's okay to not know."

if you weren't staring intently at the man before you you would've missed the smile that flashed across his face at your remark. it was soon washed away when you both heard loud footsteps from down the hall. you both quickly turned towards the noise that was approaching pietro's cell, he gulped harshly as a guard came into view. he looked back at the wall expecting to still see your face but instead, he saw a metal hand escaping through the hole as if the cement was never removed.

metal...?

it must have been late in the night. the guards had already dropped off the atrocious meal they call dinner and returned to pick the trays up. they rarely patrolled the hallways at night, opting to smoke outside. it was eerie each night. the sound of dripping water from pipes echoed, the occasional gunfire could be heard from the woods outside, slight whispers could be heard from the twins once in a blue moon but it was rare. in a place like this, they didn't let you be a person so it was hard to act like one.

pietro was lying on the bed facing the ceiling making a laughable attempt at trying to get some sort of sleep. he was imagining his life before this when his family was all together, when times were happy, when he was just a little kid and not a young adult performing for crazed scientists. his eyes scanned the room at the sound of bricks moving before seeing your head pop into vision from the hole. pietro let out a small laugh through his nose seeing your sheepish smile.

you sat facing the other not saying anything at first. it was oddly comfortable being face-to-face with the one they call quicksilver. you couldn't put your finger on why though. you've spoken so few words to him but then again it was the first time you let yourself speak to someone in this building that wasn't a doctor or a guard. maybe it was you being naive but it felt okay and safe.

"what made you cry the other day?" he finally spoke his question causing you to blink a few times.

"i think... i think they do something to my head. i mean, i know they do," you thought bringing your fingers to your temple as if the gesture helped you remember, "but i think i'm starting to notice when i'm on missions. it's hard to really know though it's all a blur."

pietro nodded softly taking in what you had to say, "like... brainwashing?"

"it has to be. they recite something each time and then it's like i'm not me," you confessed, "but these past few missions i'll overhear things from strangers passing by or i'll see something and i can feel myself start to wake from the trance. i'm starting to remember life before here and i'm becoming aware of what they have me doing."

"whatever it is they have you doing just know you are still a good person," pietro spoke quietly.

"i kill people," you said bluntly looking him straight in the eyes. he averted his gaze slightly, his hand coming to caress his jaw.

"the person they turn you into out there isn't you. the real you is sitting in front of me now."

"how can you be so sure, you don't even know me," you questioned.

"i don't think an out right evil person would check to see if a stranger is okay... or compliment them the first time they see them," pietro joked slightly. you hung your head as your lips pulled back into a smile. pietro couldn't help the way his body leaned closer to the hole with a big smile on his face observing the way you became shy.

"no one in this building is perfect. we've all done things that are considered evil but if we manage to hold on to some sort of sense of ourselves i think we will be okay. i hope wanda and i get out of here soon. it was a mistake yanno, being volunteers, i regret it. it makes me feel worse knowing you had no say in the matter. you're here every day as a puppet against your will and yet i walked through these doors. every day i'm in pain and every day i regret it," pietro's accent got thicker as he got emotional.

you frowned at the silver-haired man, "life in here is already hard enough, there is no point in being hard on yourself."

his eyes were glossed over, internally fighting himself for the choices he had made in the past. you reached your hand into the hole searching for his. this was out of character for you but it some selfish way you wanted the warmth of his hand to comfort you as well. it was peaceful sitting in silence holding each other's hand. the only form of physical touch the two of you ever received was in the form of torture. gruff hands slapping, punching, shoving, and poking you seemed like a far and distant sensation compared to the safety you felt as pietro's thumb traced the back of your hand.

"you should rest," pietro finally broke what felt like an hour's long silence, "they usually take you first."

you sighed deeply but you knew he was right. god knows what hour it was and you needed to try and get some sleep. pietro gently let go of your hand and allowed you to snake it back through the hole.

"thank you pietro. i hope we can talk more soon," you told him earnestly.

"i hope so too," he gave you a lopsided grin before you grabbed the brick.

it was mere days later when you two found yourself in the same position. the guards were out, pietro had finished his talks with wanda, the disgusting dinners were consumed and taken away, and here you were staring into the sky amongst grey walls. pietro noticed your face had small cuts scattered on it from a mission you were sent on a day prior but you had made no mention of it thus far. you were currently enthralled by pietro telling a story from his younger days. pietro was funny and he didn't even need to try, it had been years since you felt the burning sensation in your sides from laughing too much but he made it easy. and pietro loved the sound of your laugh, it was beautiful, irresistible almost. the two of you went back and forth sharing any memories you could remember from life before these walls and it was effortless but you knew just like the other nights it was soon time to hide the hole.

"you're really pretty," you confessed.

pietro's mouth formed an 'o' shape before turning into a giddy smile, "you are beautiful, dragă"

this time it was pietro plugging the brick back into the wall just as he was about to finish a loud booming voice came from your side of the wall. his hands shook slightly at the volume of the guard yelling 'soldier' in russian to you. pietro could no longer see what was happening but he heard you stand up and reply back and leave the cell.

although you and the guard walked in silence you knew he saw you talking to pietro. you continued to clench and unclench your fists trying to calm yourself for what was to come.

"Тебе нравится мальчик?" (do you like the boy?) the guard asked placing a firm grip on your shoulder, pushing you towards the all too familiar room. you stayed quiet and you heard the man snicker to himself, satisfied with your silence.

in the room, several other guards were standing in position, many holding guns. you saw the needles and wires spread across the small rolling table with a doctor in a white coat hunched over it. the monitors sitting idly waiting to read your vitals. the guard that escorted you pushed you into the contraption that stood before you forcing your body flush against the back. immediately automatic shackles secured your arms to the chair and the whirling sound of small electric plates situated themselves against the sides of your head.

"смешно... ты, кажется, молчишь только рядом с нами," (funny... you only seem to be quiet around us.) the doctor smirked, admitting they all were aware of you and pietro speaking. the doctor sucked his teeth as you glared at him, unwilling to confess to anything.

he picked up the mouth guard from the table wiggling it in front of your mouth waiting for you to open. you bit down in anger, all the muscles in your face twitching, your eyelids blinking rapidly pushing back any emotion daring to creep up at what you knew was about to happen. it wasn't often they wiped your memory, only when they deemed your actions defied them, like not getting enough information on missions which was rare. it had been months since the last time they did this. you screamed in agony as the electric volts zapped against your head. sweat started to bead across your thrashing body. it was indescribable and it wasn't a short process but once the currents stopped your world was black and each time you'd wake up in your cell with no recollection.

it was a week later you found yourself in the training room after being isolated since the memory wipe. your shoulders were hunched forward, chest facing the ground, your arms swayed ever so slightly by your side, your breathing was ragged after being beaten in the form of "training" for the last two hours. the doctors insisted it would be over soon, one final test for the day before you could go to your cell. the door creaked open and the familiar sound of boots entered, you didn't even bother looking up.

"солдат!" (soldier!) a guard yelled causing you to slowly pick your head up. at the door was a young man you'd never seen before, he wore tattered pants and a tank top, his hair was silver, and his blue eyes were opened wide in what you could only assume was shock. and though you didn't recognize him, pietro recognized you.

up until now, he had never seen your full figure before, only parts of your body that were visible through the hole. despite you clearly being injured and tired you stood tall and pietro could tell you were strong. the most alarming part about you was your arm... your metal arm. pietro's eyebrows scrunched together, head slightly cocked to the side examining the way the metal met your skin, some scar tissue bright red while others were faded.

before pietro could mutter any words aloud a doctor appeared from a side door and sauntered towards you holding a notebook.

"работа...установить..." (work...establish...) the doctor read.

"please, no," you whispered, your neck screwing to the side as if it will block the doctor's voice.

"станция..." (station...)

pietro watched as your chest heaved air in and out as the doctor continued reciting from the book, circling your body like a predator ready to attack. he watched as your teeth chatter together and your metal hand flexed. the doctor stopped behind your right shoulder leaning down slightly so his mouth was level with your ear. pietro couldn't hear the whispers but he felt nervous at the doctor's intense eye contact and the loud clap of the notebook being shut. the doctor lazily dragged his hand off your shoulder whispering one final command before exiting the way he came.

pietro jumped at the sound of the door behind him slamming shut as the guards snuck out, leaving only the two of you in the room.

"wha- WOAH!" pietro shrieked as you came barreling towards him at full speed, your metal arm raised high in the air to come down on his body.

"please i don't want to hurt you," but his pleas were left unheard as you socked him in the jaw, tossing him to the ground and repeatedly punching his stomach. although being fast, pietro found himself trapped beneath you and it took moments before he was able to get out and start running in different directions. slowly, you walked towards a vacant chair in the corner, eyes trained on the blue light racing around the room. you gripped the chair waiting for the right moment before launching it across the room and nailing pietro square in the back. you stalked towards his groaning figure grasping his shoulder and flipping him onto his back where you straddled him and punched at his face.

to pietro's relief, the doctor came back into the room beckoning an order to you. pietro watched from underneath your frame as your pupils twitched at him and your head robotically moved to face the doctor. you refrained from punching pietro anymore and stood up and walked to the doctor and the two guards who waited behind. one of the guards stabbed a needle into your neck and once more the world was black.

you couldn't even begin to guess what time or day it was when you finally woke up on the floor of your cell. your body was violently shaking from the cold and you started to panic. as much as you tried to think of any memories you couldn't, it was like your mind was a blank slate and it was causing you to panic even more which then turned into anger. you grabbed the small bed and threw it at the wall and screamed loudly. you repeatedly slammed your metal first into the wall causing dust to liter the air. guards walked past your cell but simply laughed and continued to make their way down the hall and off into the outside world.

"hey," a voice spoke unsteadily. you whipped your head around to the other wall and saw a face peeking through.

"it's okay," the man tried to ease seeing your angered state approaching him. you kneeled in front of the hole looking intensely at his face.

"who are you?"

this question confirmed pietro's fear that they wiped your memory. he had foolishly hoped that in the training room you were just too worn down to recognize him when he walked through the door before they sent you into your trance.

"my name is pietro. you may not remember but i am a friend," he spoke hoping to see any form of recollection cross your face. instead you examined him quietly before turning your head and examining the room. it was lit dully, your bed now turned on its side, and there was a tray of food sitting near the cell door that looked to be days old.

"this is a hydra base," pietro continued without you having to ask, "the people here are not good. they hurt us, they experiment on us, many people have died here. i have a sister here, a twin," he said pointing a finger behind him, "her name is wanda. they call us the enhanced. we both possess abilities no normal human would have due to their experimentations. we came as volunteers and i regret it."

"am i a volunteer?" you questioned.

"no, dragă. a few weeks ago you told me they found you during the winter, alone. you had been lost in the forest and they made promises to help you find home but you never returned. you said you aren't sure but you think it's been ten years since," pietro confessed, his accent thick with sorrow.

you hummed, unsure of what to say. you remembered none of this so what could you really say back? was pietro even telling the truth? how could you decipher fact from fiction in a state like this? despite the confusion and the absence of memory, something deep within you said it was all true, everything he was saying was right.

"why is my arm gone?" you whispered, slightly touching the contorting metal panels near the elbow.

pietro couldn't help but feel a pain in his chest as he observed you try and remember any semblance of yourself, "i- i don't know. what i do know is the doctors, they like you. you are very important to them and they make you do dirty work. the reason you can't remember anything is because they wipe your memory."

"i suppose that makes sense," you nodded slightly giving pietro a bitter smile.

"i am sorry for what they do to you," pietro stated earnestly. if he could help you in any way he would, over and over again, he would.

you paused, taking in pietro's face which held some serious injuries. the skin on his brow bone was split, his eye was bright red with blood and a nasty purple-green bruise on his jaw.

"did i do this to you?" you asked, slowly reaching your hand through to gently touch his jaw.

"of course you didn't my love," he murmured, tenderly grabbing your wrist and threading his fingers with yours.

"if there comes a time when i hurt you, please don't go easy on me," you pleaded.

"i cannot promise you that," he smiled at you softly, bringing his other hand to enclose your freezing one.

and pietro was being truthful. he couldn't nor he wouldn't harm you in the event the doctors forced you to fight. he would run and dodge the punches, and the chairs being thrown at him, but he couldn't fight you, he just couldn't. it pained him to see the different version of yourself, the real you locked inside begging to come out of the brainwashing.

pietro didn't think it would be so soon when he would be in the same position as before, standing across from you in the training room as the same doctor circled your body, reciting words in russian that would transform you into their super soldier. it was only hours after the two of you decided to sleep that pietro was ripped from his bed and dragged into the training room.

the doctor once again closed the notebook but before leaving he looked over at pietro, "it is a shame," he started with a thick russian accent, "her memory wiped twice in a week. i thought maybe you two would work well as a team. we could start sending you out on missions with her. but it seems she has developed a hm. what do you call it?" he fake pondered, "ah! a crush! and that is not something we take kindly here. she provides more to us here than you do so..." with that the doctor whispered one final thing in your ear before leaving.

pietro watched carefully as you headed towards him and at the last moment he sprinted away causing you to concave the metal door. you whipped your head around, eyes wide in anger, tracking the movements of the man. he was fast and this irritated you. sticking your leg out you managed to trip him at the last moment and his large frame hurled to the floor. you gripped his shirt in one hand and used your metal hand to punch him in the side of the face.

"it's me!" the man below you yelled. this had no effect on you and you raised your hand to hit him again but he grabbed your fist. the two of you violently struggled against each other before you used your hand clutched to his shirt to slide him away with great force.

"please i said i would never hurt you. it's me, pietro!" the man pleaded getting up to run past your approaching figure. for some reason hearing the name pietro caused a loud screeching pain in your head.

"what are you doing to my head?" you screamed, clutching your head in your hands, eyes screwed shut.

pietro stopped running and looked at your trembling figure, "i'm- i'm not doing anything."

you tried ignoring the high-pitched shrilling noise and stumbled to pietro. you grabbed onto his shoulders and pushed him backward against the wall. although you moved him with force pietro could feel the weakness in your grip this time. he stayed silent looking into your eyes that were frantically examining him.

"the noise..." you muttered bringing your metal hand to hold your head.

"there... there is no noise," pietro spoke confused. there was no noise in the room besides heavy breathing.

"who are you?" you probed shoving him roughly against the wall.

"it's me. pietro. i live next to you in the cell. i came here as a volunteer with my twin sister wanda. you are here against your will. they found you when you were little and never let you leave. they hurt you every day, they aren't good people. trust me, please. it's me your friend," pietro rushed hoping to break through to you.

he felt your grip slightly falter as you looked him up and down. he couldn't make out the emotion in your face as you screwed and unscrewed your features together, internally fighting yourself. he wasn't scared, but nervous rather for your next move or action.

as pietro spoke the high-pitched noise continued to grow louder causing severe pain in your head. it made you nauseous and your vision would cloud with blinding bright light. you hung your head gasping for air as a vague image of a cell came to memory. you tried blinking it away but it would reappear, this time you'd see a man. the man you were pushing against the wall. his head was peeking through the cell wall. instinctually you pressed him further into the wall, pietro's shoulder blades started to ache. a new memory came and it was pietro holding your hand, his thumb caressing yours.

you shot your head up looking at the man. your eyes were glossy with tears from the pain you were experiencing. not just the physical pain of the intense noise but the mental pain as you tried to piece together who he was. his appearance was becoming familiar. his clothes, his broad shoulders, the facial hair on his jaw and upper lip, the cut on his eyebrow, the dark roots of his hair and the silver ends, and his eyes.

you dropped your grip and pietro's eyes contorted in confusion.

"like the sky..." you murmured.

[juliaswickcrs]

MCU OCS + MERCHANDISE ↳ ( oc halloween challenge, day three )

collector's edition trading cards and funko pop bundle.

feat. rare finds like post blip shrike, white suit matryoshka, secret identity stasis and never-before-seen funkos including pre-red room matryoshka and gonzo the flerken.

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[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 36. How did it end?

Previous chapter

Masterlist

This is a longer chapter than most, we cover a lot of ground here! Sorry in advance for what everyone is about to go through <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: a whole lotta angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of PTSD, hurt no comfort, poor Rhoadey

The wind tousled my hair, sun brushing over my cheeks as I watched the trees dancing in the breeze. I sat atop a cement ledge in a multi-level parking lot, feet dangling over the edge, hands braced on either side of me. My shoulders were aching from the tension that had lived there for days now.

It had been around 20 hours since Ross told us we had 36 to patch this up. Tony had arrived back in New York to follow up on whatever the hell he had planned, he also informed me that Wanda had left the compound with Clint. I was at somewhat of an impasse. It was now an immovable fact that Steve wouldn’t back down and even if it was in Tony’s character to concede, he had Ross and the guilt of Charles Spencer’s death looming over him. I’d signed the accords… because it was the right thing to do, it was the path forward. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I repeated that to myself it still failed to ease my warring mind. That inner conflict was no doubt what had led me here.

“Something on your mind?” The familiar voice asked.

I sent the tall blond man an unamused look over my shoulder, but the corners of my lips quirked ever so slightly. “Not really no.” I joked, swinging one leg back over the wall so I was facing Steve. “What’s that thing people say about the shit hitting the fan? I don’t know if we’ve reached that point yet or if it’s still coming but either way things have gotten a little chaotic for my taste.”

He breathed a short laugh, nodding in agreement. “How are you feeling? You took a lot of damage back at the headquarters.”

“I’ve had better days.”

A flash of dark hair over Steve’s shoulder caught my attention, Barnes leaned against the passenger side door of a small hatchback, looking down at his crossed arms. “I know you don’t trust him, and I understand why, but you saw what happened back there, it isn’t just me caring about an old buddy. That doctor activated him on purpose, and my guess is that he’s manufactured this whole thing. Bucky didn’t kill King T’Chaka… but I think you’ve already figured that out or you wouldn’t be here.”

I didn’t respond right away, thinking over his words. “I need clarity. Only he can give it to me.” Steve and I both glanced toward Barnes then. “That is why I’m here.”

“Where’s Pietro? I would’ve thought he’d be less than happy for you to be here after everything.”

“He thinks I’m taking a walk to clear my head.” Was all I supplied in response, still watching Barnes carefully. It felt utterly bizarre, to be approaching the Winter Solider in this environment; to be seeking him out at all. Although, he did not look like the Winter Soldier right now. “Are you going to try to kill me again?” I asked when I stood before him. He shook his head, glancing up at me for only a moment before looking back down.

He mumbled something then; it sounded like sorry but that seemed unfathomable to me, so I chose to move on swiftly.

“I don’t have a lot of time, so I won’t waste it asking stupid questions. They never called me ‘114’ in the Red Room so I’m gathering we met before.” He nodded; eyes still downcast. “Where did we meet then?”

It came as a surprise to me when he actually responded. “There used to be a hydra facility in Serbia, it was off-the-grid, confidential, every operation based there was strictly need-to-know. It’s where you were kept before you were given to Dreykov. I was assigned to you, the mission was to oversee you progress and keep you confined, make sure you didn’t interact with other subjects.”

“I don’t understand, if there were other…” I swallowed heavily, “subjects, why were you only assigned to me, aren’t you a little overqualified?”

The lack of eye-contact was beginning to bother me, particularly as it became evident that he was quickly reverting back into silence. “That is how we met, what else do you want from me?”

His response, or lack thereof, incensed me. I was exhausted and my body ached from the lack of sleep and him throwing me through a glass wall. “Just answer the goddamn question, you owe me that at the very least.”

There was silence between us for a long moment and then he finally met my eyes. “Because you were a high-profile experiment.”

The words turned my stomach. A high-profile experiment, how flattering. “You know where I came from?”

“No.” He shook his head firmly. “I didn’t have the clearance to know anything like that about you, that’s partially why I knew you were so important. They weren’t exactly forthcoming about any of their plans, but that level of secrecy… the clearances, the constant conditioning, it was different from any of the other subjects.”

“Hydra tested me for genetic potential… they probably just thought they could get a good price from Dreykov, that doesn’t mean I was significant to them.”

There was silence again then, the air was thick with uncomfortable tension, anticipation for what was to come. “It wasn’t about the money. You had genetic potential of course, but that wasn’t enough on its own to make you worth it to them.” He met my eyes then, gaze encased by shadows and maybe even a little mercy. “Their conditioning didn’t work on you, Nadia. Not at first anyway. They didn’t just want you to forget yourself when it was beneficial for them, they wanted to leave no trace of who you were, but even when their tactics started to affect you, you would remember. Every single time. The conditioning never stuck.” His words only confused me more, none of this explained why he suspected I was important to Hydra. However, his words did move me, if he knew all of this that meant he knew me before, before I lost every part of myself that was real, everything that was not manufactured. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted him to continue. I’d once said I did not want to know about all the things that were taken from me, but now I didn’t know what I wanted. Before I could figure it out, he was speaking again. “If it had taken even half that amount of work to manipulate the minds of any other subject, they wouldn’t have seen it through, Hydra were dedicated but they didn’t see the subjects as humans. If one became too troublesome, they would have just disposed of them. They weren’t known for being merciful, and yet, with you they were steadfast, no effort spared. That isn’t business as usual… it’s personal.”

“I was a child; how could it have been personal?”

Nick Fury’s words echoed through my head.

You were too young to have made yourself a target.

I knew what it meant. I wasn’t the target, just a pawn in a much bigger plan. I didn’t wait for him to answer. “You saw them experimenting on my mind, so you know how they made me forget, can you tell me how to undo it?”

He shook his head. “I only saw parts; I wouldn’t even know where to begin in undoing it.” I remained silent at his response, taking in everything he’d told me. “I take it the mind-manipulations wearing a little thin these days. What do you remember?”

“I remember the ballet, Giselle and Swan Lake, it took me a while, but I remember it now. I remember being told my name was Nadia and that I was an orphan born in St. Petersburg, and I remember the Red Room. You trained me… I remember that, but I also remember that you weren’t always there. You left.”

“I didn’t leave, I was sent away. You don’t remember?”

That seemed to be a common problem for me lately. “Remember what?”

“It took hydra all that time to figure out the right method to break your mind, but even when they finally found it, the conditioning didn’t stick. It lasted a while, years even, but when you were a teenager, it started to wane… you started to remember.”

His words had my stomach churning, how could I not know that? I was a teenager, this was happening to me in the Red Room; how did I not remember now. “What does that have to do with you?”

“Dreykov thought my presence was encouraging you to remember, because we’d known each other before. So, they put you back through conditioning and I was reassigned.”

This was a hell of a lot to take in but there was still something else on my mind, a lingering question that I couldn’t seem to move past. “Before, you said you were sorry that I’d trusted you, what did you mean.”

He didn’t respond right away, directing his eyes downward once again. The internal torment he was going through was evident. “When you were first taken by Hydra, I was assigned to watch over you, like I said before. You were just a little kid, but every day you would try to talk to me. You’d ask me questions about myself, where I was from, my family, you were very… insistent. When I would ignore you, you’d start telling me about yourself.”

That sentiment brought me to a standstill. “What did I tell you?”

He shook his head, expression more somber than ever. “I don’t know. That wasn’t something Hydra were too willing to let me remember. But, for whatever reason you seemed to want to tell me all these things and wanted to know them in return. It didn’t really matter, not at first. It became a problem when somehow you triggered my own mind to start fighting back against the conditioning. Hydra knew your own conditioning wasn’t working because I reported everything back to them and when they realized you were making me remember they had me punish you.”

I wasn’t so surprised by that part. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Don’t thank me.”

I nodded, swallowing heavily. “It isn’t your fault… I don’t blame you.” He finally met my eyes again then. “I’m not exactly the president of your fan club, but… I don’t blame you.”

Then the unthinkable happened, the corners of his lips upturned almost imperceptibly but it was enough for me to notice. I turned then, beginning to walk away from him but his next words stopped me in my tracks. “I do remember one thing about you from before. You had a brother, I don’t know why that part stuck, maybe because of how much you talked about him, but, for whatever reason I remember it… you loved him a whole lot.”

My eyes were brimming with tears before I even had time to register the stinging sensation. It was as though I had no control whatsoever over my own bodily functions. I’d never had such a strong reaction to such a simple statement before but here I was holding my breath in an attempt to control myself and quickly wiping at the tears. I nodded again, still not facing him and not speaking another word for fear of my voice shaking. Just before I left the parking lot, I saw Steve talking to Sam. The former turned to face me as I approached, Sam departing to take a phone call. I recognized the look on Steve’s face instantly.

“You’re not going to try to recruit me, are you?”

He just chuckled. “No, I’d never dream of trying to tell you what to do.” In his eyes, there was a certain somber resignation that concerned me. It was not a look that made me optimistic about the future of the Avengers. “But, between us, I think there’s a logical choice, the one that seems like the obvious course, and then there is the choice that you’ll be able to live with.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “The accords are the right thing.”

His lips pushed together into a frown. “Nadia, you can’t really expect me to believe that’s how you feel, whether you like it or not I know you a lot better than that. I’m not going to tell you what to choose, I respect you too much to do that, all I ask of you is to do only what you sincerely believe is right.”

My gaze dropped downward, unsure how to respond. There was a war raging in my mind and now with the information from Barnes I was finding it hard to focus on just one issue.

“You know, you are in so much trouble, maybe Natasha and I are bad influences on you.” I taunted, a weak attempt at diverting the conversation. Or maybe I just wanted to delude myself into thinking things were as they had been. “The longer this drags on the harder it will be to come back from.”

He nodded, that same look in his eyes that told me it wouldn’t matter what I said. “Well, we’re already in trouble, so what’s a little more.”

“Now I’m sure of it, Natasha and I have corrupted you.”

Steve breathed a laugh. “Probably.” He paused for a long moment, looking out at the trees and the blue of the sky before continuing. “Signing the accords… it’s giving up too much, I can’t do it, you know I can’t.”

I did. I had known that from the moment the accords were given to us by Ross. Although, I had hoped the stakes would be a little less. “Okay.” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say. “Well then… I assume I’ll be seeing you.” Steve nodded and I paused, my phone was buzzing in my pocket, and I just wished I knew the right thing to say, to do, to fix this. “I hope you know he means well… Tony is just trying to make things right, the guilt of what happened to that boy, Charles, in Sokovia is eating him alive. Don’t take it personal.” I wasn’t sure why I needed him to know that so badly.

When he smiled then, it was real; genuine. “You’re a good friend, Nadia, a good person too.”

I didn’t respond to that, not verbally at least, instead saluting him teasingly. There was a soft smile spreading across my lips though. When I was leaving the car park, I answered Tony and Pietro’s text messages, informing them that I was on my way to the meeting point.

Steve’s words were heavy on my mind. There is a logical choice and then there is the one I’ll be able to live with. I thought of the footage Ross had shown us, all of the destruction, the chaos and loss, I thought of Charles Spencer and how devastated Tony was, the look on Pietro’s face after we returned from Laos. Then I thought of the Red Room, I thought of Dreykov and how it felt to be told my body belonged to my country, not to me.

This is how you become a patriot.

All of the things I’d been forced to do because it was for my country, for the greater good. I recalled being forced to watch other young girls be killed because they were compromised. If you went against the rules, you were a traitor, and traitors must be made examples of why you obey. I remembered Dreykov lifting my hand to aim the gun at Oksana’s head because she didn’t follow the rules.

For 12 years my life had not been mine. More than that really, out of the Red Room I was a free agent, but the truth was I’d traded Dreykov for Fury. Different circumstances but in both I obeyed, I played by their rules and in both I watched it crumble or be derailed. Hydra invaded S.H.I.E.L.D. had I not stepped back from my duties there I might have unwittingly followed Hydra’s agenda.

The sound of Oksana’s cries still haunted me, her pleas to spare her life filled my head as I made it to the meeting point.

There was a logical choice. One that might lessen the body count and reduce collateral damage. The choice that would yet again render me a lap dog to another institution.

Then there was the decision I could live with.

A streak of blue and silver whirred past me, Pietro stood before me with raised eyebrows, arms crossed over his chest. “That was a very long walk.”

“I had a lot on my mind?” I offered sheepishly.

He huffed exasperatedly but didn’t verbalize his frustration beyond a simple “Mhm.”

Tony turned toward me then, gesturing for me to follow him toward his private jet. Very few words were exchanged between us as he typed a code into the screen on the interior wall, causing a panel to shift open revealing the new suit he’d built me. I was once again awed by how perfect it was but then I narrowed my eyes at the man before me. “Is this really necessary?”

“Well, given how well the last conversation you had with Barnes went I figured you might want a little extra padding this time.”

I sighed, running my hand over the suit. “So, this is going to be a fight.”

“In a perfect world, no, but Cap’s not really known for having flexible ethics. I can’t imagine him ever standing down, so I plan on being prepared for whatever outcome eventuates.”

Tony eventually left me alone so that I could get dressed whilst he went to talk with Natasha and Rhoadey.

The new suit really was impressive. Only Tony Stark could build something this… extra. It was just a shame that its maiden voyage was under these circumstances. Footsteps echoed behind me, Pietro’s face appearing in the mirror. He leaned his arm over the top of one of the jet seats, something clearly bothering him. I turned to face him then, he wore his new suit as well, midnight blue and silver.

“Everything okay?”

He shrugged. “I was just going to ask you the same question.”

I ran a hand down the front of my suit, sighing quietly. “They’re not going to change their minds about any of this. The only way this ends is with a fight. So no, I’m not exactly ecstatic about all of this.”

“I get that, but that’s not what I mean, and you know it.” I raised an eyebrow at his words prompting him to continue. “The way you’ve been talking since all of this started, it doesn’t sound like you’re 100% in it.”

“I signed the accords, didn’t I?” The rhetorical question was my only reply as I looked down at my hands.

It was his turn to sigh, and he ran a hand over his face. “No more bullshit answers. Are you having second thoughts about all of this?”

“Of course I’m having second thoughts. How could I not be? This isn’t just some random group of villains or criminals; they are our friends and Wanda is your sister.”

“And they made their decision.”

I shook my head, before pressing the pads of my fingers into my temples to stave off the oncoming headache. “You don’t seriously think it is that simple. I know you don’t.”

“This is the only way to keep her safe… The only way to protect Wanda, and to protect you too.”

“But it isn’t what either of us want.”

He took a step toward me. “So, what do you want then?!” The sudden jump in volume almost startled me. “You signed the fucking accords, that was your decision because it was the right thing to do, and you know it! What is so damn conflicting?”

“You’re being an asshole right now, Pietro.”

I crossed my arms over my chest as he expelled a sigh of exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shutting tightly. “I know, sorry. I just-”

“Hey, you guys it’s go time.” Rhoadey called, popping his head in for a brief moment.

Pietro and I stood before each other quietly, neither of us moving just yet. He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, clearly at a loss for words, so I made the first move. I stepped toward him, placing one hand over his cheek, thumb smoothing over his cheek bone. The truth was I didn’t know what to say either, there wasn’t anything I could say to soothe him because I did not want to lie to him. I was terrified right now, partially because I knew how things were going to go down and partially because I knew what my decision was.

My second hand pressed to his other cheek, and I pressed a tender kiss to his lips. There were no more words exchanged between us before I exited the plane.

By the time I caught up to Tony and Rhoadey on the tarmac Steve had already pled his case, explaining all about the crook psychiatrist who’d purposely triggered the sleeper agent in Barnes as well as the other super soldiers that were currently on ice and likely the doctor’s next target. Natasha had positioned herself behind Cap while Pietro went to find Wanda and the spider-kid that Tony had recruited was perched on the hood of a luggage shuttle after having locked Steve’s hands together with his strange webbing. T’Challa stood on the opposite side, scanning the area, likely searching for Barnes.

I glanced toward Tony, hoping to see something shift in his demeanor, anything to suggest he saw the other side of this. I didn’t find anything.

“You've been busy.” Steve said, glancing over at the kid.

“And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep…” Tony looked away to collect himself. “I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.

Steve was undeterred by his words. “You did that when you signed.”

“Alright, we’re done.” Tony stated firmly. “You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. Now! Because it's us. Or a squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction about being impolite.”

Cap didn’t respond but he glanced off further down the runway toward a hanger. I furrowed my eyebrows, every muscle in my body tense with the anticipation of what would happen next. The blond man lifted his webbed hands above his head, an arrow soaring through the air within moments, slicing the restraints clean off.

The kid started speaking but before he could finish his sentence a man spawned out of thin air, kicking him off the shuttle and returning Cap’s shield to him. “Oh great.” Tony muttered. “Alright there’s two in the parking deck, one of them is Maximoff I’m gonna grab her, Speedy meet me there. Rhoadey and Nadia you wanna take Cap.”

I looked towards Steve as Rhoadey announced that Barnes and Sam were in the terminal, prompting T’Challa to jump into action.

When the fighting began, I found myself frozen to my spot on the tarmac. For, perhaps, the first time in my life when a fight broke out, I didn’t know what to do. These people are my friends; my family, I didn’t want to fight any of them. Cap threw his shield at T’Challa to stop him in his pursuit of Barnes and Rhoadey flew in to join the fight. I didn’t think I just moved, slipping in in front of Steve to block T’Challa’s punch with my arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked me angrily.

“I’m sorry, please, don’t take this personally.” I offered before swiftly moving to knock him off of his feet. I sent a high kick toward his head, but he ducked to avoid it, attempting to punch me in the ribs but I twisted and caught his wrist, using the momentum to flip him over. He managed to land on his feet, taking a swipe at me with his claws which I avoided by flipping backwards and kicking him in the chest on my way causing him to fall onto his back.

I turned over my shoulder to see a tiny truck morph into a massive full-sized truck that was hurdling toward Rhoadey, the explosion of the crash sent me tumbling. A hand extended toward me and when I looked up my eyes met Steve’s. “So maybe you’re not so sure about the accords after all?”

 “Well, you don’t have to be annoying about it.” I grumbled as I took his hand and moved back to my feet.

A man in a red and silver suit stepped forward. “I just have to say I’m a really big fan, this is a huge moment for me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You were small before, like a strange little bug.”

He nodded, shrugging sheepishly. “Choosing to see that as a compliment.”

Despite the situation my lips curved upward. “We need to go.” Cap said, gesturing for us to follow as he began to run down the tarmac. I followed hesitantly, not long after Wanda and Clint appeared, joining us, followed by Sam and Barnes.

The Quinjet was in sight when a blinding light appeared before us, searing into the concrete in a thick line, narrowly avoiding my toes. I looked up to see Vision hovering above us the stone on his forehead glowing. “Captain Rogers. I know you believe what you're doing is right. But for the collective good you must surrender now.”

Tony arrived then, flanked by Natasha, Rhoadey, Spider-boy, T’Challa and Pietro who watched me intently. A glance down revealed that my feet were straddling the line in the concrete, one foot on either side. All eyes were on me now. I swallowed heavily meeting Pietro’s eyes, hoping that he could see the remorse in them as I stepped over completely, taking a few steps toward Steve who nodded at me.

Tony raised his arms questioningly. “Seriously?”

“What do we do Cap?” Sam asked.

“We fight.”

Both sides began to approach and within moments the fighting had begun all over again but now it was everyone and the hits were much harder.

When I came face to face with Pietro it seemed surreal, unfathomable that we could be at such odds again. It reminded me of a time before, a time that now felt like a lifetime ago, before he knew me, before I knew him. His eyes were frantic as he approached slowly. “I guess we are supposed to be fighting.” I spoke.

I could see the violence from my peripheral, people who’d once been friends; family even, throwing punches and leaving bruises. “I’m not going to fight you, Nadia. Just listen to me.”

“Pietro, I don’t want to fight anymore either, but I’m not going to change my mind… I’m sorry I can’t go along with the accords… I can’t.”

He clutched his head for a moment before running a hand through his messy hair. “I understand. I get why you have reservations about authority and being controlled but…” I narrowed my eyes at him as he seemingly searched for the words. “Sokovia was destroyed… mine and Wanda’s home, obliterated. We did that. Our enhancements, this unimaginable power, cannot go unmanaged. It’s too dangerous.”

“Okay. You feel responsible for what happened, I get that. I’m not saying we should opt out of the fault; we were all involved, but this is not the solution. What happens when there’s a conflict that our intervention can help but the government disagrees? What happened in Sokovia was a tragedy, but a lot of people’s lives were saved by what we did as well what would have happened if we didn’t step in. I see your point, but my mind is made up, I’m not going to be something harbored by the government for their use whenever they see fit. I’ve done that. I won’t do it again.” I tried to be gentle, to keep a level-head, to preserve this thing between us but when I looked into his eyes it was different, there was still this strange feeling settled deep within my chest that something was inherently broken here. Whether it was our fate all along or whether the cracks began to form when I read the Hydra documents, I wasn’t entirely sure.

His voice was filled with frustration as he spoke, so much so that it almost made me flinch. “You don’t want to be used as a weapon. That much I get, but do you really not see that this is exactly what we are? Weapons… Nadia, what was done to you in the Red Room was monstrous but there was a method to that madness, they controlled you because they knew what they were creating, and that kind of power could not go unchecked. They instilled a killing instinct in you so of course they had to manage you. That is what Ross is trying to do, they just want to oversee us because they know it’s too dangerous to let us roam free. It is for the greater good.”

It was worse than taking a bullet. So painful it nearly knocked me over. There was a searing ache in my chest as he spoke, I barely even heard him now. I took a step back from him, eyes dropping to study the cracked concrete by my feet. “You think that what was done to me was for the greater good?” It sounded nothing like me and suddenly there was a thin papery feeling filling my limbs. I hadn’t felt this way since I was a child, since I was trapped in those walls, blood all over my hands, scars littering me like reminders. The sound of a trigger being pulled, again and again, cold gunmetal against my forehead. I felt it all over again.

He opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance as a beam of red threw him backwards. My head shot over to see Wanda glaring at me. “You’re pulling punches, Nadia.” 

“So, you fight him, he’s your brother.” I managed, turning quickly to walk away. My chest ached and each breath was a struggle to swallow.

As much as I tried to delude myself that maybe things would be fine, maybe everything could go back to the way it was, there was no denying that things had irreversibly shifted.

“Not exactly the most opportune time to switch sides.” Natasha’s voice called from behind me. I caught her punch as I turned swiftly but she was expecting in and twisted her hand around to overtake my hold on her wrist and pulled me forward to trip me over her leg, dropping me down onto my back and pinning me with her arm. She smiled at me. “We’re still friends, right?”

“Depends how hard you hit me.” I taunted, pulling her down and locking my legs her arm and shoulder before twisting around rapidly to flip her over onto her stomach on the ground while I swiveled around to my feet once more.

Nat moved to her feet as well, watching me carefully. “You really aren’t on our side anymore?”

I swallowed heavily, glancing out at the wreckage around us, the punches being thrown, the friendships being torn apart. “I can’t do it, Natasha. You know I can’t.”

She nodded, once, twice. “Yeah. I guess it just feels different now that it’s really happening.”

I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off by Barnes’ words. “We gotta go, that guys probably in Siberia by now.”

An orb of red threw Natasha back as Wanda landed beside me, narrowly avoiding Rhoadey’s line of fire.

Steve spoke up next. “We gotta draw out the flyers. I'll take Vision. You get to the jet.” He gestured for me to follow Sam.

“No, you and Barnes get to the jet!” Sam responded, taking off to evade Rhoadey. “The rest of us aren't getting out of here.”

Clint nodded, fire several arrows to cover us. “As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it.”

Cap looked back at me looked at me for a long moment, before glancing at the chaos behind us once again. “Nadia…” He trailed off, clearly unconvinced by this plan.

“I’ve gotten myself out of worse situations. It’ll be fine, you have to go, you cannot let that maniac doctor activate the other Winter Soldiers. You need to shut it down. We’ll cover you.”

“Alright, what's the play?”

“We need a diversion, something big.” Sam responded.

The shrinking man was the first to offer something. “I got something kind of big, but I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half . . . don't come back for me.”

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Are you actually going to tear yourself if half?” I spoke, hearing Barnes offer a similar sentiment in unison.

“I do it all the time. I mean once . . . in a lab. Then I passed out.”

“You're sure about this, Scott?” Steve asked.

After hearing Scott’s reassurances, we all agreed and the man set off, leaping from the mobile stairs to grab onto Rhoadey’s back. I narrowed my eyes, wondering how this was an effective diversion. My question was answered almost immediately when Scott suddenly morphed into a towering behemoth and grabbed a hold of Rhoadey’s leg. My mouth fell open, as I watched the scene unfold before me.

“Okay, tiny dude is big now. He's big now.” Rhoadey panicked over the comms.

“I guess that’s the signal.” Steve said glancing back at me one final time.

My shock at Scott’s display became secondary as I spotted a streak of blue and silver beelining for Cap. Pietro knocked him off his feet but the moment, he was stationary long enough I jumped onto one of the luggage shuttles before leaping off of it to tackle him to the ground. He groaned at the impact rolling away quickly and moving back to his feet. “Go!” I shouted to Cap and Barnes. “But if I find out this whole come-to-conscience remorse act is bullshit…” I looked Barnes directly in the eye then. “I’ll kill you myself.” He nodded once, meeting my eyes for a fleeting moment before turning away and following after Steve.

 When Pietro was on his feet again, he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Really?”

I moved into a defensive position despite the way it killed me to do it. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Oh? But you seem ready to.” He retorted.

He lurched forward, but I evaded his attack and blocked the next jab as well. For a while I stuck to this, merely blocking and dodging, realistically, there was no real force or skill behind his hits anyway. There was anger sure, but these were strikes meant to hurt. “You’re holding back.” I said.

“So are you.”

The sound of a building crumbling and crashing caught my attention. Both Pietro and I looked over to see the control tower collapsing over the entrance of the hangar that Steve and Barnes were headed for. Wanda was barely managing to keep the tower afloat when Rhoadey emitted some kind of frequency that had her grasping her ears and the building crashing down around the two men. The distraction was enough for Pietro to tackle me backward pinning me to the ground. “Stay down, Nadia, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Sorry, but you know it’s not in my nature to make things easy for you.”  I slid my arm to press across his chest while my right leg shifted upward to push my knee into his stomach as I flipped us over swiftly, planting his back into the ground.

Another crash sounded, this time it was Scott toppling over, taking the spider-kid with him followed by the Quinjet soaring through the air. I stood quickly but was tripped by Pietro just as soon as my feet were on the ground. He’d used my classic move against me, hooking his ankle around mine and sweeping my feet. Now, I was pissed. I evaded his grip, rolling over him and situating my body behind his on the cold ground. I wrapped him into a chokehold, legs locked around him from behind. I had control of his movements, but my grip was loose over his airways, still allowing him to breath easily. “Stop fighting me!” I managed to get out.

“No! Not when you are this out of control.” I held onto him tighter as he thrashed against me. “This isn’t right, you know that the accords will protect people… but you don’t even care.” That stung, I’d admit. “This is bad, Nadia, even for you.” That cut deep, just like he knew it would.

All at once I let go of him, shoving him away from me and moving quickly to my feet. “Fuck you!” I spat, eyes stinging, stomach churning. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean it like that… this… it’s just…” He couldn’t find the words because it is what he’d meant. Even if it wasn’t he never got to finish the sentence because before he managed to spit out what he was saying our attention was pulled by a beam of light emanating from Vision that soared right up toward the Quinjet, no doubt aimed at Sam who was tailing Rhoadey but when the former diverted courses to evade the beam it hit Rhoadey in the chest, searing through the heart of the suit. The lights shut off and suddenly he was plummeting rapidly toward the ground.

“No.” I muttered, taking off into a sprint toward the field that he was headed for. Tony was hurtling toward him from above, but he was too far behind, there was no way he would catch up. For some reason his distressed calls, over the comms for Rhoadey had my heart stuttering anxiously and made me sick to my stomach, more so than anything else had today.

Grass and dirt sprayed toward me as the War Machine suit collided with the ground. Tony landed a moment later, ripping the face plate from Rhoadey I slowed when I reached them, surveying the face of my unconscious friend, blood spattered across it. I came to a momentary halt looking between him and Tony before moving to crouch beside them and examine the injured man, but a burst of energy hit me directly in the chest causing me to tumble backward onto the grass. I pressed a hand to the sore spot where Tony’s ray had hit me, eyebrows furrowing as I looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“DON’T!” I wasn’t sure he’d ever shouted at me like that before. “Just stay the hell away, Pimenova.” The venom dripping from his words made my heart stutter again, it shattered me completely. I did not understand why it was so devastating. “You can act like double-crossing us was some moral dilemma all you want; I don’t care you made your bed and now you can lay in it. Ross is going to be hunting you; I can’t protect you from that and to be honest, right now, I don’t want to.”

My eyes stung and I turned my head away before he saw the glistening in them. “I didn’t double cross you, I tried to do this your way, I couldn’t.” I swallowed heavily, moving to my feet once more and turning away from him. Before I left, I tilted my head to the side, toward him. “And I don’t need you to protect me from anything, Tony.”

With that I walked away.

I walked out of the field and back through the airstrip, moving quickly, scanning the area as I went to ensure I didn’t bump into any of Ross’ men on my way. Unfortunately, the person who stepped in front of me just before I reached the exit was much worse than a firing squad.

Pietro watched me, chest rising and falling rapidly, frantic eyes darting across my face. “Get out of my way, Pietro.” The words were glacial, a tone I’d not taken with him in a long time.

He shook his head. “No, Nadia, I’m not moving until we talk about this.”

“We already talked about it. That’s not what you really want, what you want is for me to agree with you and that isn’t going to happen so there’s nothing left to talk about.”

“There’s nothing left to talk about?” His eyes narrowed slightly; jaw clenched but the expression on his face did not resemble anger. “That’s it then? You’re done and we aren’t even going to talk about it.”

I shrugged, there was a lump in my throat and my eyes were stinging but I swallowed it down. “You’ve made it very clear where you stand, I see now, what you really think. What more could you possibly have to say?”  He ran a frantic hand through his hair, shaking his head, eyes shut tightly as he seemed to search for the correct words. “I mean that is why you were so willing to help Hydra, no? Why you kept all of those notes, you didn’t send them… but you kept them. They were a reminder, weren’t they? Of the person I really am.” I’d never seen him look so pale, like he’d seen a ghost. I told him to move once more, he just kept shaking his head.

“No. No, you’re not walking away like this, we’re not done talking.” He swallowed heavily. “If you really cared about me… about this.” He gestured between us. “If this mattered to you, you wouldn’t do this.”

“Don’t.” I blinked rapidly, desperately fighting the stinging in my eyes. “Don’t do that, that isn’t fair, you can’t just use us against me. Our relationship can’t the deciding factor in which side I choose, and I don’t think you actually want it to be.”

He shrugged. “So maybe you don’t know me that well. It shouldn’t be such a hard decision for you, the Accords are the only way forward, the right choice. I would have thought that doing what is right for the greater good mattered enough to you that I wouldn’t have to use our relationship to sweeten the deal, but maybe I don’t know you either.” It was facetious and sounded nothing like him.

“Pietro, get out of my way now.” I gritted my teeth, forcing down the emotions that were bubbling within me, focusing on the anger, that was where my strength was. It’s what I was good at. He needed me to be the villain, maybe that’s how he’d always seen me anyway. “Move, or I will make you.”

“Is that what you’re going to do? Well, go ahead, Nadia, because that’s the only way I’m going anywhere.” He moved forward until he was standing right in front of me. “Go on then, hurt me.” I didn’t move an inch. My stomach churned and I felt ill.

I clenched my hands into fists, heart racing against my chest. All I wanted was for this to be over. In that moment, looking at his face, his beautiful, frantic blue eyes, was unbearable. “Move.” It was barely a whisper, a breath that tapered off at the end, desperate and tired. My eyes were still stinging but I ignored it, swallowing all of it down and steeling myself; just as I always had before. He refused to budge, only staring at me with an expression that made me feel small. I didn’t think I could bare another second of that look, but then I did what I warned him I would. I ducked and weaved around him and when he managed to grab me, I pressed the control on my suit that activated the red and shocked him backward. A hard hit to the side of his ribs and a kick in the back of his knee sent him to the ground.  The look he gave me then, accompanied by the pained breath passing his lips as he cradled his side, I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from. I turned away; knowing that if I stayed now, I might not be able to leave at all. His next words had me stopping dead in my tracks for a moment.

“I guess it’s true what they say. Once a double agent…” I closed my eyes tightly, stilling my body and holding my breath, forcing myself to remain strong, to be indifferent. I’d done it a million times before, why was it so hard now? Just when I felt like I might have control Pietro spoke again. “I’m glad you didn’t say it back. It would’ve been just another lie.”

It didn’t matter how hard I tried, the stinging in my eyes wouldn’t let up but this time it didn’t stop at that. He didn’t need to add any more context than that; didn’t need to spell it out. A hot tear streamed down my cheek, burning the whole way down. I quickly wiped it, glancing back at him over my shoulder. The cold, dismayed expression that he wore faltered ever so slightly when our eyes met, his lips parting slightly as he gazed at me.

“For the record, I didn’t want it to end like this.” His eyes softened ever so slightly but I turned away before I could change my mind.

He’d be fine, maybe a little bruised but nothing beyond that, because the truth was even in the end, I’d still pulled my punches. Because when it was him, I couldn’t bring myself to put any real force into it.

He had repeatedly told me that there was no point in my incessant efforts to push him away. It wouldn’t work. I couldn’t make him hate me.

I guess he was wrong.

Though maybe I’d never needed to try to make him hate me, maybe this was just written in our fate from the beginning.

All along, solitude was the only plausible ending for me.

[welldonebeca]

it's a Bad Idea, right? (32)

WC: 2.1k words Warnings: Mafia AU. Comfort. Fluff.

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Betty woke up to her phone ringing into her ear at midday sharp, with her head pounding in the same pace of the song she used as a ringtone.

It was too early for calls. Who called a bridesmaid the day after the wedding party?

She picked it up from the nightstand with a groan, but cleared her throat anyway, sitting up.

“Hello?”

“Miss Dąbrowska?” a woman asked on the other side, in a very American accent. “I’m Clarice, I’m Wanda’s publicist.”

Betty frowned.

Wan had a publicist?

She rubbed her eyes.

“Hi,” Betty spoke again. “Does she need anything?”

Why would her publicist be calling Betty of all people.

“No, ma’am, everything is alright,” she assured her. “But I would like to clarify the name you sign yours dressed as? I could not confirm if it was as Elise or Eloise?”

That made her stop, confused.

Why would she sign her dresses as Eloise?

“Ela Dąbrowska,” she answered, her mind still slow. “E-L-A, a single L, not doubled.”

The woman hummed along on the other side.

“E-L-A,” she spelled back. “Would you like to provide a quote about your inspirations?”

Betty took her hand up, pinching her nose.

“Why?” she asked.

Why did she need all that?

“For the article, miss,” she told her. “I just now realised we didn’t get your quote, it was an oversight of my part. I’m really sorry.”

An article.

What now?

But she answered anyway, clearing her throat.

“We took some inspirations from late Tudor times in her sleeves, and the late Victorian period for her neckline, and we started from there.” she explained, though trying to shake off the grogginess.. “Wanda was very specific with what she wanted for her dresses and her bridesmaids, she wanted everything to look like it had come from inside a fairytale, very light and very ethereal and timeless, so we worked with that concept, and I think we achieved it.”

On the other end, there was the sound of typing, and then Clarice cleared her throat.

“And you are French-born?”

“Yeah,” Betty confirmed.

“Paris?”

“Nantes, actually.”

Another hum of confirmation.

“Thank you for the patience and the clarification, Miss,” she spoke gently. “We’ll be sending you a link to the article tonight and a copy of the magazine tomorrow as soon as we have it on hand.”

Betty frowned.

Wanda hadn’t talked about that.

“Of course,” she agreed. “You’re welcome.”

She lied down again when Clarice hung up, but she was far too awaken for that now. With a sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash off whichever leftover make-up she had on her face before walking out to the kitchen.

When she went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, there were several containers inside, all from the wedding.

Trays of assorted sushi rolls, delicate canapés, and so many sweets, cuts of lamb that would last at least three dinners. Wanda must have made sure they got the leftovers for Betty and Piet, she was such a big sister for both of them.

Her belly rumbled as she reached for the sushi – well, it wasn’t like they could stay in the fridge for that long, someone would have to eat them before they went bad.

She had her mouth full with the best salmon that could ever be shipped to New York when Pietro walked into the kitchen, with his hair a complete mess and his face pink and smushed, probably from his pillow.

“Is that the wedding sushi?” he rubbed his eye, looking confused.

“It’s gonna get bad if we don’t eat it,” she shoved another piece into her mouth. “And it’s still less than 12 hours old.”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes. “I had to stay awake and organise the fridge with the leftovers.”

Betty just continued to chew.

“Did you brush your teeth?” she pointed at him.

But Piet didn’t answer, frowning.

“Why are you eating with your hands?”

She scoffed.

“Is that your answer?” she tilted her head.

Piet scoffed, walking to her and snatching a roll from her container, and Betty slapped his hand away.

“Go clean up, brother of the bride, I can smell seven different perfumes on you,” she teased him.

He rolled his eyes but walked off, chewing her precious sushi.

When he came back, Pietro did look much better – his hair was brushed, he seemed awaken and half-clean.

He took another container from the fridge and sat by her side.

“Better?” she asked.

“Much,” he exhaled.

They fell into comfortable silence, eating together in the slowest, laziest pace, happy to be doing nothing.

Until, of course, something popped in her mind mid eating a temaki.

“Wanda has a publicist?” Betty asked him, as confused as when she was woken up with said publicist calling her cellphone.

Piet looked up at her from dunking his sushi on sauce.

“Viz got her one, His father proposed they did some… rich people thing with the wedding so no one would be snooping around,” he moved his hands a bit vaguely. “An article and some pictures…”

Betty scoffed a bit. Why would people be that interested in their wedding? Of course, Vision’s father was a public figure, but he was the only one. Vision himself, Doctor Banner, Wanda, Pietro… they were all just normal people.

“Stark shit,” Piet added. “Now that she is Mrs Stark.”

It made Betty laugh. Mrs Stark. Wanda was Mrs Stark now.

Holy shit.

“It’s one hell of a surname,” she joked.

She was, technically, a billionaire. By marriage.

Lucky girl.

“So American,” he joined her with a chuckle.

The rest of their day was incredibly lazy. All Betty and Piet did was eat their sushi, snack on wedding food, watch whatever was available for them and talk about mindless things.

Around sundown, though, she was a bit surprised by a Vogue link on her email, before remembering Clarice had promised to send her something about the wedding.

And there it was, the very first thing she saw when she opened the page: Wan posing elegantly on her own and by Vision’s side, as ethereal as she had desired in her wedding dress and her reception dress, both looking at one another like they were their whole world.

Oh, she looked so beautiful.

There was a picture of them with their parties, so Betty and Pietro were there, perfectly coordinated visually as Wan’s party, with Thor and Jennifer on the other side as Vision’s party, and they all looked damn good together.

Under the pictures, she read.

‘The bridesmaids and the bride’s dresses were signed by French wedding designer Ela Dąbrowska.’

Betty felt something in her belly warming up.

That was Vogue.

She was on Vogue! Her dresses and her name were on fucking Vogue! Vogue, one of the most esteemed fashion publications in the world.

Betty couldn’t even help her laugh of shock and happiness. She hadn’t imagined it happening in the wildest dreams!

She didn’t even have a job! And her first accomplishment was to be named on Vogue?!

The world was upside down!

Mum messaged her at night, right before everyone else in the family did.

There were cousins and aunts and people she barely remembered messaging her to congratulate her and ask how she had done it. Dad didn’t understand much about the internet but he called her and sounded very proud regardless.

“I miss you, little star,” he spoke to her near the end of their call. Oh, it felt so good to just hear her language being spoken to her in a damn conversation.

Betty didn’t call her parents much. Not because she didn’t want to talk to them, but because she didn’t enjoy missing them.

“I miss you too,” she moved on her feet, a bit embarrassed.

She hadn't set foot in France since leaving for the States.

“I was talking to your mother,” dad spoke slowly. “And if you want to, we can get some of our retiring money and buy you a ticket home and then back? You don’t have to stay for long, I’m sure your work owes you a few days off. We can celebrate your accomplishment together!”

Betty sighed, guilty weighting heavy in her belly.

Oh, she was owed so much more than a few days off from Mama Stefka.

“Dad,” she tried to protest and interrupt him.

“It won’t be a problem!” he argued. “You’ll come stay with us for a week or ten days!”

She sat by the closed window.

Now, she hadn’t told them about her plans.

It was embarrassing, everything that was happening.

Betty could have just stayed and studied in Paris. She could have gone back home as soon as she had graduated.

She could have just ignored Steffan when she saw him, and could have quitted Mama Stefka before that mess started.

Betty could have done so many things and that would have put her in a better position.

But that meant leaving Wan and Piet, and… well, it meant she wouldn’t be on Vogue.

"Actually," she cleared her throat, the words hesitant as they left her lips, “I’m not working at the restaurant anymore.”

There was a pause on the other side, as if her father's thoughts were racing to catch up with the sudden shift in their conversation.

“You’re not?” he asked

Betty nodded instinctively, though he couldn’t see her.

“No,” she answered him. “You know… Wanda left around the time she got engaged, and Pietro got another job too. And now I’m thinking that it’s my turn to do something new.”

Betty had never told her parents about Hydra. Who would?

What kind of parent would hear from their child that they were in a Nazi-infestated, hiding as a Catholic, risking their life for a job, and do nothing?

Not her parents, no. Mum and dad would fly themselves to the US without a single work of English in their vocabulary and take them back to France tied down if they had to.

“Maybe in France?” she mumbled tentatively.

Oh, the sigh of relief that escaped her father's lips was as loud as a gust of wind, she wondered for how long he’d been waiting to her that.

“Oh, Ela,” he nearly cried. “Ela, that is so good. We can pay for your ticket and we’ll get your room ready, and-”

Betty couldn’t help smiling, shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” she interrupted him gently. “Dad’s, it’s okay! I was well-paid for the dress, I can pay for my own ticket.”

“I’ll do your room myself,” he insistent, urgently, sounding urgent. “Oh, your mother will love to have you home again.”

She couldn’t help growing happy along with him.

She missed them. Oh, how Betty missed mum and dad. She missed home and her bed and having them fussing over her the way they did. She missed Nantes so much, the actual clean coast, a beach that wasn’t contaminated and actually safe to swim in!

And being called Ela, being spoken to in French and Polish… their home was a mixture of those languages when she became a teenager, and it was crazy but so fun.

“I’ll buy my ticket tonight,” she told him. “I’ll fly to Paris and get the train.”

“It’ll be wonderful,” he celebrated. “Wonderful.”

They talked a little more – about her day, the dress, the wedding… he asked her about Piet and Wanda, and they talked about his day, and then mum joined, so she talked to her too.

They were off to bed when Betty hung up.

The next morning, she just moved to do what she had promised them and herself, at last – get a flight to France.

And maybe she was feeling a little spoiled, but she gave herself a good seat in business class, with all the luggage she could carry. It was an overnight fly, so she could sleep on her way there, catch her train and sleep her jet-leg off at home, with her parents.

She had just accessed her email to check her information when her eyes caught the new email on her inbox.

Geovanna, with Tom Ward?

She clicked on it, a little confused, reading through it. It was written in French, which was something she hadn’t received in a while.

Betty was shocked as she read through the text. They were complimenting her work, talking about how they’d seen the dress in detail, and talking about their bridal line and…

“Holy fuck!” she gasped.

The sound of something falling outside made her turn, and Pietro ran into her room so fast he almost hit his face on the doorway.

“What?” he asked.

Betty stared at him, still feeling the ground out of her feet, shocked.

“I just got a job offer from Paris.”

…

“it’s a Bad Idea, right?” was posted on my Patreon in September 2023. To have early access to it (and lots of other stories), consider subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month, and I know you won’t regret it!

…

Bad Idea: @peaceloveancolor

[figaroswilson]

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙙 ⇒ 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘹 𝘦𝘹𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳!𝘰𝘧𝘤

Chapter 4

masterlist

story summary: Kira Barnes, the younger adopted sister of Bucky Barnes, is forced out of the dark underworld of espionage and into the light of the new world of superheroes when her brother abandons her with the Avengers to go on the run. She is set in her ways and determined to find her brother until she meets Pietro Maximoff, someone who challenges her black-and-white view of the world.

story warnings: violence, swearing, blood, descriptions of abuse

chapter word count: 2276

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~ ✺ ~

The Quinjet was awfully quiet.

There wasn't much to say after what had happened in South Africa. Both the fight at the salvage yard and what the Hulk had done to the nearby city was more than enough to shutdown any conversation. After takeoff, everyone had kept to themselves and now they were all scattered around the aircraft, most either asleep or pretending to be. Only Kira and Clint were up, sitting in the cockpit. Clint because he was piloting and Kira for the view.

She was looking out of her side window. Once, during one of his more lucid moments, Jamie had told her that whenever he couldn't sleep he would go to the Navy Yard and watch how the water glimmered in the moonlight as it lapped up against the dock. The way he described it was like it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. And he was right. The Atlantic was beautiful at night.

Clint had noticed a while ago that Kira wasn't meeting anyone's eye. For someone who would stare into your soul when she talked, it was clear that something was wrong. He decided he should be the one to figure out what and break the silence. Glancing over at her, he asked, quietly so as not to disturb the others, "You alright?"

Kira continued to watch the ocean as she answered him. "I'm not the one who had my head messed with," she replied, just as quietly as he did, avoiding the question.

He realised what she was doing immediately, but decided to play along. "Doesn't matter. I still care about you, Kid."

"Not a kid," Kira joked in return. She really wasn't very good at heart-to-hearts, and definitely was not prepared for one right now. Like usual, she tried to find a way out of it.

"You're like 20 years old," he said. "That's practically a baby."

"I was born in 1935. That's old enough to be your grandma."

"Still a baby."

Kira laughed, shaking her head and tried to change the subject. "Where are we going anyway?"

"You know I know you didn't answer my question. Right, Ki?"

"And you're not answering mine! We're seriously going back to the States? Is that a good idea?"

Clint sighed, dropping the issue for now. "Don't worry. I know a place."

~ ✺ ~

The 'place', it turned out, was a safehouse out in rural Iowa.

A safehouse that was also a farm. Clint's farm. Clint was a farmer.

Kira laughed as Tony's jaw dropped at the revelation. "Not funny, Ki," he mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, before turning back to Clint. "You've been hiding that you're a farmer from us? How could you?"

"Because you're the most overdramatic person I know, Tony." Clint clapped him on the shoulder. "I thought we already established this," he said, trying, and failing, to hide his smile.

Tony frowned. "Evil man," he mumbled.

The house, though large enough for each of the team to have their own separate rooms, looked like a spec in the middle of the sprawling fields that surrounded it. An old pickup truck and a small pile of firewood lay near a large wooden shed. The place was empty and the nearest neighbours must've been miles away. The entire scene was beautifully still in the morning light, and entirely quiet.

As soon as they got inside, Nat broke off the rest of the group and went straight up the stairs, like she already knew her way around the place. With how close she and Clint were, it made sense; if he was going to tell anyone about a secret house, it would be Nat. He tried his very best to show the rest of the team around the farmhouse, though their awkwardness made it very clear that none of them had ever stepped foot inside one and that no one knew how to be normal about it either.

Kira's thoughts wandered. All she could seem to focus on was how little was currently in her control. The search for Jamie was entirely derailed, she had no way of getting in contact Sam, and the mission she was currently on just seemed to be getting more and more complicated. All she wanted to do was go back to before that damn party, where everything had gone wrong. At the very least, she wanted to let Sam know she was okay.

Logically, she knew none of these thoughts were helpful right now. It was a lot easier said than done, though. She tried her best to put it all out of her head. Tried to pay attention as Thor looked with concern into the nearly empty refrigerator.

Clint looked wildly uncomfortable explaining how difficult it was to get groceries when the closest store was nearly 50 miles away and how much harder it was to keep them fresh when you hardly spent any time at home. Kira tried to help by diverting their attention. "Who's this?" she asked, pointing out an old framed picture of two boys on the window sill in front of the kitchen sink.

"Oh." Clint quickly placed it face down. "No one. Just me, when I was a kid, and— you know. Just a childhood photo," he rushed out.

Odd. She gave him a look. He quickly moved on to showing them their rooms.

~ ✺ ~

Kira mostly avoided the others for the rest of the day.

It wasn't terribly hard. They mostly kept to themselves anyways. Thor had left early on in the day, saying he needed to look for 'answers' with not much else as an explanation. Nat stayed up in her room. Bruce sat quietly in the kitchen, helping Clint out when he needed it, as he tried to put a meal together, and he needed it. Steve and Tony made themselves useful around the house, helping with some of the harder chores, like chopping up firewood.

She had tried to be around the others. At first. Her swarming thoughts quickly stopped that though. It didn't help that she couldn't talk to anyone about it either. Steve was around Tony, Nat was busy isolating herself and Sam was unreachable. Her only other option was to take Nat's approach and isolate herself too, but that wasn't turning out to be a good idea either. The longer the day went on, the longer she had to think herself into a spiral. Slowly, everything started to get too loud and too bright and, eventually, she realised she couldn't quite breathe right. She had to get out of the house.

Kira walked too quickly down the stairs, opened the front door too harshly and took a deep breath. Paused. Let it out. Started walking. Slower than before. She walked till she reached the edge of the property, then walked along the treeline that enclosed it. She walked until she didn't want to anymore. Sat in the shade of a large tree, facing away from the house. Took in the world around her. She tried to do that thing her therapist told her about: clearing her mind. She watched the clouds coming and going. How they always passed. Imagined they were her thoughts. It will pass.

And then, for a long time, she just watched. Birds flittering in the trees. Leaves dancing in the wind. Recently shorn grass, too small to be disturbed. Blue sky becoming tinged with purples and pinks, yellows and oranges. A gentle breeze brushing against her face. Footsteps on hard ground.

"You're not sneaky, Clint," she called out as he approached.

"Not trying to be." He sat down next to her. It was quiet between them for a while, as they watched the sunset.

"It's beautiful out here," Kira whispered, as if the scene in front of her was so delicate that a misspoken word could break it.

"That's why I bought it. You can just... be. Pretend nothing else exists. Clear your head."

She hummed in agreement.

"Of anything, you know," he said in an odd tone. "Like a weird encounter with two annoying 20 year olds—"

"Clint," Kira groaned in annoyance.

"Oh, come on. You can't avoid it forever."

"It's not that important."

"Ki..."

"It's really not! I promise, it's just—"

He gave her a look.

Fine. "It's just that the whole thing was odd. I don't understand why Maximoff didn't try and mess with my head," Kira explained. "I was right there. An easy target. All I had was a gun— same as Nat. And my abilities aren't any more dangerous than Steve's. She even started walking towards me but, then, nothing. They both got this look in their eyes and zoomed off. I mean, can you make any sense of that?"

Clint considered for a second. "Maybe she was too drained."

A look of confusion crossed her face. "Drained?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped himself. Closed it. Considered his words. "You know my taser arrows?" he asked, tentatively.

"You shot her with that?" Kira exclaimed.

"Not exactly."

"Clint..." she said with a warning tone in her voice.

"I may or may not have attached it directly to her head," he rushed out.

"Clint!"

"She wasn't hurt! Promise. Just slightly inconvenienced."

Kira shook her head in disapproval. Then sighed, "It can't have been that anyways, she still messed with Bruce's head after. She was clearly fine. Plus that look, it was less exhaustion, more... fear."

"Huh. Maybe it was your murder face."

"Murder face?" She looked at him incredulously. "You're fucking with me, right?"

"I'm being serious! When you get pissed off at someone, you look like you're plotting their murder. A slow and painful murder. Your murder face!"

Kira laughed at that, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"It's not just about the twins, is it?"

"Okay, I am not sharing that much. This was more than enough—"

"You don't have to! Promise," Clint interrupted. "We all have to have some secrets."

"Like your picture in the kitchen?"

He nodded.

"And the reason Nat's the only one who knew about this place?"

"I won't ask if you won't. Just... try not to let it get to you too much. Alright? Sometimes the way to do that is to talk about it. Other times it's not. Especially if you're not comfortable. And that's okay too." Then, after a pause, he added, "We should probably get back inside now; it's getting dark. Plus, I have a surprise for you."

~ ✺ ~

"Took you long enough," Fury chastised from the head of the table as they sat down.

The rest of the team was already scattered around the dining room – some seated at the table, others standing. Kira smiled at him as she sat in the chair to his left. She didn't mind a little telling off from the grumpy ex-SHIELD director who had saved her from HYDRA. "Fancy seeing you here," she joked.

"Well, I thought you guys might need a metaphorical kick up the ass."

"Might need an actual one too," Clint mumbled, mostly to himself.

Fury sighed, his brow furrowing. "Ultron really did a number on you folks."

"Gee, thanks," Nat muttered.

"As much as he hates you though," he continued, "he did it to buy himself time. My contacts all say he's building something. The amount of Vibranium he made off with, I don't think it's just one thing."

"What about Ultron himself?" Steve asked from the doorway.

"He's easy to track, he's everywhere," he answered. "The guy's multiplying faster than a Catholic rabbit. Still doesn't help us get an angle on any of his plans though."

"Still going after launch codes?" Tony confirmed.

"Yes, he is, but he's not making any headway."

"I cracked the Pentagon's firewall in high school on a dare."

Fury shook his head, in that tired-of-everyone's-bullshit way of his, at Tony's admission of a federal crime. "Yeah, well, I contacted our friends at the NEXUS about that." At the confused looks that appeared around the table, he explained, "The world internet hub in Oslo. Every byte of data flows through there. Fastest access on earth."

"What'd they say?" Clint asked.

"He's fixated on the missiles, but the codes are constantly being changed."

This piqued Kira's interest. "By who?"

"Parties unknown."

"We have an ally?" she asked.

"Ultron's got an enemy, that's not the same thing," Fury corrected. "Still, I'd pay folding money to know who it is."

"I might need to visit Oslo," Tony said, more thinking out loud than speaking to anyone directly. "Find our 'unknown'."

"Well, this is good times, Boss," Nat interrupted. "But I was kind of hoping when we saw you, you'd have more than that."

"I do, I have you," Fury said. The team looked around at each other, slight looks of disbelief on their faces. They weren't nearly as confident about their chances as they had been before South Africa. Still, he continued. "Back in the day, I had eyes everywhere, ears everywhere else. Now, here we all are, back on earth, with nothing but our wit, and our will to save the world. So stand. Outwit the platinum bastard. He looked at each of them, then asked “What do we know? What does he want?"

"To become better," Steve spoke up, more confident now. "Better than us. He keeps building bodies."

"Person bodies," Tony added. "The human form is inefficient, biologically speaking, we're outmoded. But he keeps coming back to it."

"When you two programmed him to protect the human race, you amazingly failed," Nat sighed, glancing between Tony and Bruce.

"They don't need to be protected." Everyone turned to face the end of the table. It was Bruce, speaking up for the first time since Fury had arrived. Despite addressing everyone in the room, he seemed lost in his thoughts. After a second, he shook himself out of whatever had captured his attention and, in response to the silence that answered him, explained, "Ultron's going to evolve."

"How?" Fury asked.

"Has anyone been in contact with Helen Cho?"

~ ✺ ~

[wakanda-nonsense-is-this]

Ghost of Us — Chapter 5

Master page <last next>

This is the sequel to my book Ghost of You. Go check it out before reading this one.

Pietro Maximoff x fem! Mutant!reader

Warnings: The usual

Word Count: 1.9K

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know :)

Pietro’s P.O.V

A grunt escaped my lips as a sharp pain shot through my ribs. Immediately, my eyes opened as I lay on the ground. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the surrounding darkness. And once they did, I grew more confused.

What the hell happened?

My surrounding became clearer the more aware I became. The scent of pines reached my nose. The grass and dirt under my legs as I slowly sat down. The flutter memory of sweet lips on m-

The moment that thought entered my mind, I became painfully aware of the absence of warmth her closeness provided me as we fell from the sky. I scanned my surrounding but found no trace of her. Too fast, and too early, I stood up, but the moment my legs straightened under me, they gave up. Quickly, I took a hold of the nearest tree. I took a deep breath as the dizziness left my body.

I looked down at myself and was not surprised to find myself bleeding through m shirt. I shrugged nonchalantly.

It would heal.

But she wouldn't, something whispered at the back of my mind, and worry swallowed me whole. She could be hurt. No, she could be dead.

Alarms flared in my mind. Ignoring the pain in my leg, I gave one step then another until I was running the fastest I could with blood running down my thigh from something that had stabbed the flesh.

Every second that passed without seeing her, conjured images of her lifeless body laying in my arms. The images were strangely familiar and made my heart ache.

She had to be somewhere around. But she wasn't. My breaths became erratics as panic flooded my system. She wasn't here.

I put my hands on my knees and took a deep breath. Panicking wouldn't help me find her, but fuck, if the thought of losing her made my insides twist painfully. After a painful deep breath, I straightened and made to move, but the sound of branches snapping above my head made me halt.

I looked up and there she was, hanging like a damn doll from the highest point, the only thing keeping her afloat being the fabric of her shirt stuck in the branches. I felt my heart stop beating for a second as I couldn't discern from where I was if she was still breathing.

With shaky feet, I started climbing. My leg was in vigorous pain, but at least it had stopped bleeding. The higher I got, the less I could feel my leg, but that didn't stop me.

Nothing would.

Not again.

I immediately grew confused, where did that come from?

I shook my head to clear my thought. It didn't matter, I had a mission, and couldn't get distracted over concussion thoughts.

When I finally reached her, it was like being punched in the lungs. Her soft hair was coated with blood that ran down her face and chest. Bruises and scratches adorned her ghostly pale skin. A big patch of blood on her shirt caught my attention, I couldn't see the wound, but in the way it wouldn't stop leaking blood, I knew it had to be serious.

I couldn't distinguish if the movement of her chest was the breeze or her breathing, and that terrified me. As fast as I could, I crawled along the bough of the three to get as close to her as possible. I placed my hands around her waist and slowly tugged her towards me. The branches holding her uptight released her, and before she could fall, I pulled her ice-cold limp body to my chest. I didn't have time to check if she was alive, it was getting dark, and I needed to find help as fast as possible. Or that's what I convinced myself of because I knew if she was dead, I wouldn't survive it.

With her safely secured in my arms, I descended as fast as I could, avoiding making sudden movements that could worsen her wounds.

Once on the ground, I repositioned her body, one arm behind her knees and the other behind her shoulders, so I could move faster, and keep an eye on her.

I never had an issue with my healing, it was mostly fast, but it did take some time, something I didn't have right now. My leg was fucked, and I couldn't run, so I walked, and sprinted for as long as I could manage.

Darkness surrounded us as the sun faded away, bringing coldness in its absence. I kept walking, I didn't know where, I just walked. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes into hours. We were lost, and she was hurt, and I couldn't do anything for her more than the stupid tourniquet I made a while ago.

At this point, my leg was completely useless. I knew a little rest would heal it enough, but there was no time. I was afraid time had already run out, and that the girl in my arms was anything more than a body.

It was so dark I didn't see the void in front of us. Grunts escaped my lips as we rolled downhill. I tightened my arms around my girl and didn't let go. I tried to slow us down by gripping onto something, we were going too fast to be able to make out anything but the pain of our descent.

Before I knew it, we reached the bottom. For a moment, I just lay there. My ears were ringing and my head hurt. I must have hit it with something.

A tiny whine woke me up from my disoriented state. I held my breath and waited. The body over me stirred, and a painful moan escaped her lips.

My body protested as I sat down, avoiding moving her as much as I could. Slowly, I moved her battered body, so she was resting in my lap. With delicacy, I didn't know I possessed, I cupped her face. The moonlight allowed me enough light to see her gorgeous eyes slowly peel open.

Y/n's P.O.V

Back when I was in the asylum, darkness would be the first and last thing I would see. I guess, in a way, it was a form of torture. One they knew worked wonders on me, especially before they did procedures on me.

I didn't know it then. They feared me. They were so scared they didn't dare touch me before chaining me in the dark, because they knew what the darkness did to me. They made me weak so they could torture me. The warm-up, I think they would call it.

I have to say, they really knew what they were doing. Leaving me in complete darkness for hours before they came to fetch me, gave my mind millions of possibilities to imagine what they would do to me next. Not knowing what they were going to do to me, made everything worse. Torturing me wasn't enough, they had to break me.

And they did, for many years they succeeded. But they never foresaw the variable that is called Pietro. I wish I could say he mended me and put me back together, but that would be a lie. You couldn't mend something that would break every day. So no, he didn't fix me, but he didn't have to, because he did something better. Pietro Maximoff gave me something to look forward to every day. So when he left, my world collapsed, and it was like i never left that place to begin with.

So when I opened my eyes to complete darkness being held by him, I knew I had to be dreaming, because Pietro Maximoff was no longer mine.

I was sprawled in his lap, his hand cupping my cheek as he absently caressed my skin. I tried to sit down, but the sharp pain that shot through my ribs and stomach made me cry out in pain and panic. I hadn't realized when I first woke up, but I was now acutely aware of my wounds. A sob left my lips, as the skin around my wound stretched.

“It's okay. I've got you” Pietro croaked, his other hand stroking my hair as he whispered sweet nothings in my ear.

“It hurts, Piet.”

“I know, scumpul meu. I know” His hold on me tightened as he rocked us back and forth. It really is bittersweet, that even after everything we've gone through, the only time he can hold me is when I'm on the brink of death.

“We really need to stop meeting like this” I humorlessly laughed. I really hated this, and after all I've gone through, I desperately needed a break. Wong would have a field day hearing this story, I couldn't wait to tell him all bout Pietro again. He might act uninterested, but he loved the gossip I brought to the sanctum. I smiled at the thought. God, I missed them so much.

“No, no, stay awake” I felt his finger brushing through my hair. I hadn't even realized I had closed them. “Please don't die on me” He begged, his mouth on my forehead. I was half passed out, but I couldn't help the snort that left me. If only he knew.

“Oh, believe me, this is not the way I'll die” I assured him, just before consciousness slipped through my fingers.

Pietro's P.O.V

“FUCK! No, no, wake up” I could hear the panic in my voice, but I didn't care. My hands were shaking so much, it would've been impossible to check her pulse. I rapidly lowered my head to her chest and when I heard her heartbeat, I almost fainted with relief. Without thinking, I gathered her in my arms and simply hugged her for what felt like hours.

This was the first time in the day when I knew she was alive. She was badly hurt and lost way too much blood, but she was alive.

The adrenaline wore off ages ago, but out of nowhere, energy surged through my body. The pain was still there, but it was more manageable than it had ever been. I have no idea what just happened, but it didn't matter.

With her delicate body safely tucked in my arms, I stood up and walked as fast as I could without wounding her any further. Kilometers of trees and green surrounded us, making me lose hope that I could find a place where she could rest. I looked down at my arms and noted her skin had gotten paler, and she had started shivering. I brought her closer to my chest in hopes she would absorb some of my heat.

I really had no idea where I was going, and I needed to figure it out now. Earlier I can swear I saw some birds flying north, if we follow that route, maybe we-

I stopped in my tracks and looked at my surroundings. We were the only people here, I was sure of that, but deep down I knew there was someone with us. Out of nowhere, an icy feeling overcame me, it was weird, like cold water. I absentmindedly remembered someone describing the feeling as 'having a bucket filled with ice thrown over your head'. I shook my head. I was getting paranoid.

I resumed my walking, but suddenly, as if being pulled by a rope, I headed west. I had no reason to head that way, but call it desperation or familiarity, I went with my instinct. And just when I thought I was wrong, I made a turn between some thick logs, and a wood cabin appeared in front of my eyes.

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[strange-dreams-are-made-of-these]

Take My Whiskey Neat (Part 2)

Summary: Logan and his newfound daughter take a trip to Alkali Lake. One is in search of who he was before 1979. The other is looking for who her parents were before she joined Charles Xavier's school. Ghosts come back to haunt them both. How will they act when faced with these challenges? Part 1 Part 2Tags: father-daughter fluff, angst, canon typical violence, creepy stalker mentioned in first section, broken bones, use of firearms, use of an original character Word Count: 20k+ A/N: I do not own any of the characters mentioned except for Amaris Howlett. The divider credits are in my master list. Images found on Pinterest. Amaris' face claim is Devery Jacobs. Also, if you think something in here is written wrong (when it comes to the heritage of the character) PLEASE TELL ME!

Leaving the school hadn't been something she planned on being a forever thing. There would always be a part of her that stayed with the school, and it with her, beyond just the memories tied with it. Danger room sessions with her fellow X-men, crying to Storm when a boy broke her heart for the first time, supporting Jean when she thought she blew her chances with Scott, asking Charles why he gave her chance after chance every time she accidentally hurt somebody else. Of course, teaching the kids was another fond memory of hers.

Though none were more fonder than the sleepless nights she stayed up on the rooftop with him.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she saw Logan signaling to her, pointing at the next exit sign about a mile away. They had been driving for a good portion of the day before winding up in Toledo, Ohio. With the sun setting behind them, Amaris wondered if Logan wanted to continue riding along toward the Canadian border or if he wanted to find a place to stop for the night. They still had quite a way to drive to reach Alberta, let alone to get to the border of the countries.

Logan revved the motorcycle engine as he led Amaris and Jeep to the exit lane, aiming to find a place to lie low for the night. His mind had been whirling most of the drive, flooded with the memories of his life, the things he began to remember. The images that felt the most vivid were of him and Amaris when she was a baby. They were the warmest in his mind, a time of peace and comfort, along with the woman he saw. He couldn't believe he had a family, or that his memories and time with them had been stolen from him.

However, other memories flooded his mind. Brief glimpses of him in army uniforms, holding guns and other period clothing flooded his mind. So many visions of war clawed within his mind. He can remember certain scenes of different wars he had been in, remembering the look on other people's faces. He saw blood splattered across the floor of forests and pastures and heard bullets flying and ricocheting off of people and their environment.

What bothered him more was the pounding he heard in his head heavily outweighed the roaring of the engine of the motorcycle. He needed off of the hunk of metal, at least for a few hours.

The Jeep roared behind him as Logan found a little side-of-the-highway hotel to stay at, one of those big commercial ones. The big red sign advertised eighty dollars a night. It was the perfect pitstop for their long journey, and with a bar across the street, Logan knew he would find some peace and quiet in his mind.

He found a space to park the motorcycle, and Amaris pulled the Jeep up alongside him. As he stood up, the motorcycle creaked as it rose up into its normal fashion. Logan rubbed the palms of his hands, hearing his knuckles pop as if metal rubbed against each other. He watched as Amaris hopped out of the jeep, stuffing the keys into the pocket of her jeans. Neon lights began to illuminate the stretch of road they found themselves on before music from the bar began to play.

You are in charge of the rooms, kid, I need a drink. He tilted his head just enough to crack his neck before turning around and crossing the road.

Amaris rolled her eyes, grabbing both of their bags out of the jeep. She found her way to the main office, entering with the sound of little bells alerting the receptionist of her arrival. A little television was on a news channel.

"As of tonight, the New York police department, the FBI, and other governing agencies still do not know what happened on Ellis Island or Liberty Island last week. An up-and-coming group named The Friends of Humanity has deemed the act a mutant resistance, calling for a mutant registry. At this time, The Friends of Humanity have not been backed up by a governing body."

The receptionist hummed. We're better off without mutants. Freaks. The comment was made to himself, but with her slightly enhanced senses, Amaris was able to hear it.

If only he knew she was one of the few mutants responsible for the destruction on Liberty Island.

Or how many people she and the X-Men saved that night. Mostly the X-Men. All she managed to do was destroy parts of the museum and get her neck snapped by Sabertooth.

The man watched her as she approached the desk, setting the bags down at her feet. I need a room please, two queens.

He eyed her up and down, staring at her a little too hard for her liking. He looked down at a room registry he had, looking at the options. I can offer you a room with a king... and I'm not just talking about the mattress honey. He winked at her, smiling a half smile.

It appeared he had been missing the majority of his teeth, and the ones he still had were filled in with silver fillings. Amaris did her best to hide her physical repulsion from the heavier-set man. Sorry, I don't feel like sharing a bed with my brother. She remained firm in her response, though she could tell this didn't deter the man.

He looked back at the list, then clicked his tongue. hmm, I dunno...

Amaris looked over at the screen again, seeing the report about the mutants. About her, and her father, and her friends... her family.

Just, tell me you don't service... them... here. Speaking against mutants, against incredibly talented people like her students and her friends was something she would never do. It felt as if she had betrayed them with her words, but she knew others had to do the same thing.

He looked at the screen, then back to her. He nodded, writing in the document before him. It seems as if I do have a room left, with two queen beds. He produced two keys as Amaris handed him cash. What is the last name for the reservation?

Amaris squatted down, picking the bags back up. Howlett.She grabbed the keys after replying to him, making a quick exit, and turning in the direction of the hotel room. She closed her eyes for a moment, shaking the thoughts out of her mind. Calling her kind out like that just to gain the favor of the receptionist in exchange for a dry place to sleep for a while.

What would the Professor say?

Amaris had found the hotel room, entered it, and set their bags down on the beds. With nothing much left to do, she made sure to lock the door behind her, before entering the bathroom. She flipped the light on, the stale yellow-white light showed her the dingy countertop, small shower, and equally small toilet. She removed her jean jacket, turning and tossing it onto one of the beds. She began to run her hands through her hair, pulling the ponytail holder out.

Her hair was rather long, having kept to the traditions she read about growing up. She knew from an early age she had been Indigenous, mostly thanks to Charles Xavier who dug into her mind to see where she had come from. With his help, she was able to read and research about her native ancestors, the Blackfoot people.

Her hair was the biggest connection she had to her ancestors and her family. As it relaxed behind her, her hair stretched down to almost her waistline. The ends of her hair looked a little wind-sharpened. Nothing her hairbrush couldn't handle.

Her hair was the least of her concerns right now.

She could hear the door of the room creak open. Knowing she had locked it behind her and having both keys in her jeans pockets, she knew Logan wasn't around. She stayed facing the mirror, as the sink and counter area was exposed to the room behind her. She took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she listened to her surroundings.

She quickly snapped around, grabbing the wrist of the receptionist, pinning it backward to the point the man had grabbed his arm and began sulking backward. Next time, pal, I hope she isn't as merciful as I am.

He began to plead with her, sobbing "no's" between winces and groans.

Amaris flashed her teeth at him, as she growled her slightly sharpened canines shimmered in the dull light of the bathroom. Pull some shit like that again, and I swear to you, you won't be able to run back home with your tail between your legs. She then continued to walk him back toward the door, pinning his wrist back even a little further. She opened the door, making sure to lock the door behind her. Now, be a good little boy, and make like a retiree heading to Florida. She let go of his wrist, watching as he grabbed at it and held it close to his chest, turning around and making his way back to the office.

She knew it wasn't safe to be by herself right now, and she had a feeling Logan could easily get into some trouble here. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, walked through the little parking lot, and crossed the street.

The music grew louder, as did the sounds of voices flowing out of the bar. Logan sat at the corner of the bar, puffing on a new cigar he had tucked away in his jacket, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand before him on the bar top. His eyes darted from the glass to the mirrored-back bar watching the young woman enter the bar, walking up to his side and taking a seat. He turned to look at her, his fingers reaching out to take a strand of her hair between his index and middle finger. Has it always been this long?

Amaris pointed at Logan's glass when she made eye contact with the bartender before turning back to her father. Ever since we met last week. She really should have tied it back up again. I don't normally wear it down. It gets in the way.

Logan huffed a little as the bartender refilled his glass and brought one out to Amaris. He took another puff of his cigar, letting its smoke fill his throat and lungs before blowing the smoke out. I'm not a good person.

Amaris grabbed her glass, scooting it closer to her, the tips of her fingers covering the lip of the glass, holding her face with her other hand. What do you mean? She asked him.

He brought his glass up to his lips, swallowing the amber liquid in one gulp, setting the empty glass on the bar top. The burn was something he thought would bother him more than the conversation at hand, though here he was. I need to figure out what happened to me, what led me to where I am today. He tapped the ashes of his cigar into the tray sitting between them before he looked back at her. When the Professor...he gestured with two fingers to his temple, I saw things that I've only seen in the movies... and more.

Amaris looked at him puzzled. Her lips parted, intending to speak. However, she was caught off guard when a hand grabbed her head, forcing it into the bartop.

A shotgun was loaded, cocked as the hotel receptionist stood with two men. One of the men held Amaris' face into the bartop. Logan stood up quickly, his claws exposed. Amaris braced herself on the bartop, her bone claws were exposed, though with her hands not positioned in the right way, the two long claws that would appear at her knuckles were now forced through her palms. She groaned against the pain of the claws in their unnatural position and the sensation of the bridge of her nose grinding against the old liquor-soaked wooden bar. I told you she was a mutant! She attacked me at the hotel!

Some of the bargoers left the bar quickly, grabbing their items and leaving the scene. Some of the others stayed behind, unsure which side they would jump into.

Logan looked at the three men, pointing a hand toward them. You want to fight a mutant, fine. Fight me, leave her out of this.

The receptionist pointed the shotgun at Logan. You must be the brother she mentioned about. Mr. Big Man In Charge. I can see where she gets her sour attitude from.

Logan looked between the three men. He slashed at the shotgun, though not enough of it to disable the weapon. Kill the mutant bitch, Frank.

Amaris stepped on the man's foot, causing his grip on her to loosen a little. He dropped his head at the same time she threw hers backward. The back of her head and his nose collided. Amaris spun around, maneuvering the man around and throwing him behind the bar. Logan slashed at the gun again, destroying it as he eyed the clerk. Amaris moved around Logan, ducking down and kicking the man's feet out from underneath him, knocking the third man off of his feet and onto the ground. She was able to manipulate her claws back into her forearms, grabbing a fistful of the man's shirt at his neck, and standing over him.

Logan grabbed the other man by his jacket, Don't get me wrong, bub. She can have a sour attitude, and we share that. But that mutant bitch isn't my sister. Logan's eyes shifted back and forth as he looked down on the other man. He could smell just how terrified he was from the encounter. That's my daughter.

Amaris heard the words, though as rough and gruff sounding as he threatened the other man, Amaris instantly felt emotionally pulled to Logan. To her father. The man who just a few minutes prior stated he wasn't a good man. How did those words taste now?

Now, you just ruined my night, and I lost my cigar. Why don't I repay the favor by ruining that smug grin of yours? Logan brandished the claws from his right hand, a sinister glint in his eye as he smiled down at the man.

Amaris turned to look back at Logan. She knew they had to be better than that, to give mutants a fighting chance. Dad, we can't go around mutilating humans because they threatened us.

Logan held his eye contact with the heavier-set receptionist, shaking his head slightly. Mutilating? No. Plastic Surgery.

Amaris looked back down at the man below her. She let go of his collar, standing up straighter and running a hand through her hair. I think they got the picture.

Amaris turned to look at her father, though was met with a blade to her chest, right below her heart. The first man she tossed over the bar and came out fighting again. She groaned, feeling the blade begin to move as her muscles, tendons, and tissues began to regenerate before gripping the knife and pulling it out of her chest. That was not very nice. That hurt. She rubbed the spot where he had stabbed her, often finding open wounds extremely itchy as they healed. The man looked down at where her wound would have been, mortified as he watched it heal almost instantly with very little blood staining her shirt.

The man who had been lying on the ground had rolled over, getting to his feet, and ran out of the bar as quickly as he could. Logan stared at the man in front of him. Okay fat boy, you have about three seconds to get your glory hole friend here out of this place and go home before my patience decides to take a vacation.

Amaris nodded, still holding the knife in her hand. She bent her elbow in front of her, running the blade between the fabric of her shirt, wiping the blood away. Trust me, running home to Mama is the best-case scenario here. She whispered to the man, Frank, smirking a little.

The Howlett's watched the men run away in fear, grabbing onto each other as they hollered, leaving the establishment. Logan turned to look at Amaris, his once stone-cold facade cracked as Amaris found the concern that filled his eyes. She nodded a few times, waving her hand at him, letting him know she was fine. She put the knife in her boot, keeping it as a souvenir from the encounter. She walked back to her seat, picked the chair back up, and set it where she found it.

The bartender threw a rag over his shoulder, crossing his arms. He looked between the two mutants, shaking his head back and forth. Money is money, I don't care where it comes from. But I can't have you two here. Not because you're mutants, but because your presence has already drawn too much excitement for one night.

Logan grumbled under his breath walking out of the door in front of Amaris. She nodded, leaving some cash on the counter and grabbing the bottle he left where they had been sitting before following suit behind Logan. She looked down at her shirt, her fingers running over the sliced fabric. Look, let's get a couple of hours of sleep before we get back on the road.

Logan looked over at her as they crossed the street. You first. I still have a few hours left in me. It was a lie, but he couldn't stand being in Ohio for any longer than he needed to.

Amaris shook her head. You're the one on a two-wheeled machine that weighs as much as you do, if not a little more. She looked up at him, having been nearly half a foot shorter than him.

Logan continued to march on, almost ready to hop back on the motorcycle and continue to ride on. The only thing keeping him from doing so was his bag was now in the room, and he had no idea where he was going. I don't need somebody else to worry about me, he commented. He meant for it to sound absolute, however his tone betrayed him.

She could hear the slight fear in his voice, almost sounding like a whisper between the two of them. She handed him the bottle as an offering. She couldn't find any words that sounded right to reply to him. It was hard for her since she grew up in a safe place while he had wandered around without a clue about who he was or what he was. She had that luxury, he did not.

It was hard on him since he learned a few things about himself at the mansion. He had become a loner because of what a man did to him. He had nothing to go off of to find out who he was. Then to learn he had a family, a rather small one, but no less a family that he cared for and supported. Now, he was reunited with a young woman who was his young daughter once, at a point in both of their lives where they were dealing with their identities. Logan looked down at the bottle, accepting it from her, remaining silent.

Amaris led him to the hotel room, opened the door, and walked over to her bag. She pulled a CD player out with some headphones. She had a disc already loaded into the player, Hybrid Theory by Linkin Park. Logan looked at her, watching as she crossed the room again, taking a seat in the chair next to the little table. I told you, get some sleep. She responded, kicking both of her feet on the tabletop.

Logan took a swig from the bottle, narrowing a brow at her. He had plenty of time to brood around her, but he needed to make it to Canada. He sat down on the bed, kicking his boots off before leaning against the pillow and headboard and setting the bottle down on the side table. He relaxed his shoulders, shutting out the sounds of the world around him as police sirens could be heard approaching the bar. He thought they should have left, but he went against his better judgment, deciding sleep was better for them.

Amaris monitored the situation outside, parting one of the slits of the blinds to see the bartender meet the cops outside. He pointed down the road as they conversed. Music and lyrics filled her mind as she watched for nearly twenty minutes. The police left the bar, heading down the road in the direction the man pointed them. Amaris began to wonder if he was a mutant himself or just somebody unbothered and truly meant what he said earlier. There is still some good in people out there she thought to herself, looking away from the bar and back down to her CD player.

She skipped back to Crawling when she began to hear the subtle breaths of Logan who was drifting off to sleep. The lyrics suddenly became darker for her as she looked over at her father.

There's something inside of me that pulls beneath the surface, Consuming, Confusing

With a quiet exhale, Amaris looked away from Logan, looking down at her CD player wondering why she had decided to listen to this album.

In the early morning hours, Amaris and Logan loaded up the jeep with their items. There was no sign of the receptionist from the previous night or any of his buddies. Logan straddled the motorcycle again, a distinct creak of the metal filled the air briefly before he turned the engine over. They had enough gas to get them out of Ohio before needing to make another pitstop. Logan led the way, pulling out of the parking lot as Amaris followed him in the jeep. Logan seemed intent on leaving Toledo as quickly as possible. After the events of last night, she didn't blame him.

Amaris had never been to Canada before. The furthest west she has been is Nevada. There was a conference about mutants that her very good friend Dr. Hank McCoy invited her to. He was more like an uncle to Amaris if she had to label it. He is incredibly smart beyond his years. He had been one of her teachers once before he was elected into office, Secretary of Mutant Affairs. Amaris remembered the party the mansion had when he left, wanting to send him with a warm send-off. Hank had always been an honored guest at the school, serving as one of its first round of teachers, and a X-Men himself.

It was strange to discover she had been Canadian, though she knew everybody came from someplace. She wondered if Logan too had been originally from Canada. With the way he looked, he only appeared in his younger to mid-thirties, despite being at least old enough to be her father. She was twenty-four now, choosing to celebrate her birthday on the first of every year because she did not know when her actual birthday was. It felt nearly impossible to know that information now. If they lucked out, maybe they could find some information about Logan, and in turn, maybe about her too.

Or her mother. Kayla.

Amaris and Logan had crossed the Canadian border three hours prior. It was a nervous process for Amaris as it had been the first time she left the United States, though Logan seemed so calm and cool about the situation. He led the charge, stating they were returning home to pick up a few things before heading back to New York. She admired how quick he was to come up with a story, and Amaris was quick to follow up with it.

They arrived in Calgary, needing to find their next place to rest up for a bit. Logan had wanted to find a spot to drink while Amaris was more invested in doing research. She needed to find somewhere for them to start, and logically the library was the best place to start. Logan watched as Amaris grabbed her coat, using the thicker one that she packed since it had been colder out today. You really think you are going to find something at the library?

She turned to look at him, having just finished braiding her hair in a single braid. I'm sure I can find something out about Alkali Lake. You need to have all the information you can get so you can find some answers.

Logan finished lacing up his boots. What do you get out of all of this? We've driven well over a thousand miles in four days. Just for what? A road trip?

Amaris shook her head. I've had others help me figure out who I was, as a person, my whole life. I just want to repay that favor, and hopefully, help you not find out who you are. I want to help you remember what you were.

Logan stood up, approaching Amaris as he looked her over. He still couldn't shake the image of the woman, Kayla, out of his mind. He could see Kayla in Amaris, and he could see himself in her. It was rather unsettling for him, only because he knew that he had been emotionally tied to her already. He wouldn't know what to do if something happened to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, nodding as his lips pulled into a thin line. Don't get into any trouble here. I know you attract trouble.

Amaris looked up at him, confused if he was just saying that, or if it came from potential concerns about her. I'll behave. The only scrape I can get into is with a piece of paper from a paper cut. I promise.

Logan nodded, then dragged a finger over her hair again. I like it like that. It suits your face. Logan stepped away, grabbing his wallet, passport, and keys. This gave Amaris time to leave, heading out of the hotel room and walking toward the stairs.

To have a dad was a strange feeling for her. Somebody who cared for her, well that was something else. Her family was Charles, Scott, Ororo, Jean, and Hank. She had a familial bond with students like Jubilee, Kitty Pryde, and Bobby Drake. She had a couple of lovers in the past, all of them having left the school to go down their own paths.

Some days she felt she could still hear him walking around the school, or smell his aftershave. Her mind would play tricks on her in her most vulnerable moments, often feeling his presence wrap her up in a cool embrace when her mind was fighting between waking up and going back to sleep.

She approached the jeep, hopping into the driver seat and turning the engine over. As she settled into the seat, a big gust of wind kicked up behind her, and just as fast as it rolled through, the wind rolled right out. It certainly caught her attention, along with the very faint scent that came with it.

It couldn't be. It was just another trick of the mind, reminding her that no matter how much of a mutant she was, she still was human at the end of the day.

Amaris left the parking lot of the hotel as Logan left the hotel room, watching her drive off toward the library. He was ready for a drink, and maybe some pool. He knew he was acting hard on her, acting as if the situation wasn't something natural. He was having a hard time believing that he had been nobody to everybody nearly two weeks prior. Now he was a part of the X-Men, and he was a father. Or that his daughter was an adult in her mid twenties.

That he had forgotten about her.

It was honestly for the best for her. He couldn't fathom being a father. Could mutants reproduce? It seemed like a silly question, seeing as they were nothing more than humans. They just happened to have special abilities, as Charles taught him. What was so special about steak knives in his arms and healing abilities?

Logan huffed, heading toward the motorcycle, wanting his drink as quickly as possible, and space between him and Amaris.

While Logan went on the hunt for his next drink, Amaris found her way to the library. She was honest when she said she was going to do some research about the lake, however, she had a few more keywords she wanted to search. Howlett, Logan Howlett, Kayla, Kayla and Logan.

Selfishly, she wanted to know where she came from. What hospital was she born in? Where did her parents meet? Where did they live? Alberta in the Seventies had to be different from the turn of the century.

She parked the jeep, grabbing the notebook and folder she brought with her. She was going to find some answers, no matter how much time she had to invest in it. She owed it to Logan. She owed it to herself.

It was easy to gain access to the library. She approached the counter to speak with one of the librarians. Hey there. Can you help me find some information about Alkali Lake? There was a military base there, and I was hoping there was something about that here.

The older woman looked at her. Alkali? She asked her, confused before shrugging her shoulders. I'd suggest looking in our geography section. Third row to your right, toward the middle of the aisle. If not, come speak with me and I'll give you computer access.

Amaris nodded, parting ways with the older woman before heading for the section. Every footstep she took felt heavier and heavier as if walking into impending trouble. She could feel her breath hitch in her throat as she entered the aisle. A pounding sound echoed in her mind as she walked in the row, approaching the section.

She turned, scanning over the many rows of books. Her eyes read the spines as quickly as she could, eventually reading one that caught her eye. Alkali Lake: A History.

She reached out to grab the book at the same time a slight breeze swept past her. A figure now stood with their back leaning against the bookshelf. The book she was once focused on was now in their hands. He opened the book, flipping through the pages. Princessa, I did not know you were interested in lakes. His voice was velvety smooth as always, though his posture was different.

Amaris looked up at the man, his accent filling her ears once again. His aftershave filled her nostrils as the fabric of his jacket rested at his sides. Pietro?

He closed the book, leaning away from the bookshelf, handing the book over to her. What is the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost. His icy blue irises pierced her hazel eyes. Suddenly, they both were twenty and twenty-three all over again. He thought she hadn't changed in the slightest, albeit her hair was longer now.

Amaris took hold of the book, observing his features. His eyes and his hair were much different now. He almost looked much happier. Not a ghost, she commented, pressing her brows together. You changed your hair. The roots of his hair remained dark brown, though he bleached the majority of its length. Did you cross paths with Justin Timberlake?

Pietro nodded, running a hand through it. Do you like it?

Amaris smiled, nodding as he took a step closer to her. She exhaled sharply, then took half a step backward. What are you doing here, Pietro?

He chuckled a little, then pouted his lip. Maybe I missed you? He watched her as a flush of pink graced her cheeks. Last time I checked, this isn't New York. And it's certainly not the mansion. What are you doing up here?

Amaris looked down, needing to break herself away from his gaze. This didn't make any sense. What was Pietro doing in Alberta? Uh.. I'm doing some self-discovery. It wasn't lying, but she wasn't telling the whole truth.

Something the man knew about Amaris was her inability to keep eye contact when she was hiding something. Come on. How long has it been? Three years?

Amaris looked back up at him, doing her best to keep a stone expression. Four. Four years since Pietro decided to leave the mansion, wanting to find his father and know why he and his sister were pawned off to the care of Charles Xavier when their powers were activated. Something Amaris couldn't blame him for wanting, but to do everything in his power to keep her from joining him on his trip was something else.

Pietro whispered lowly between the two of them, holding his hands out to his sides as if throwing in the towel. What is that place? He asked, pointing at the book.

Amaris pulled the book toward her chest. I don't know yet. That's why I'm studying it.

Pietro spun on his heels, placing a hand on her shoulder. Perfect. We can study this book together, then. He had been more than half a foot taller than her, though Amaris had been shorter than most people she had met. She stood at a solid five feet and two inches tall on a good day. With Pietro being nearly six feet tall, she often found herself climbing on objects to be somewhere near or at his eye level. Before she could even put up a fight, she found herself walking in tandem with Pietro toward an empty table. Just like old times.

Amaris watched as he took a seat at the table, then she followed suit. Settling the book down on the tabletop, she reached for her notebook. The sound of whirling air filled the space again. Once she had her notebook and pen in hand, she looked back up to see him looking through the book again. Too bad super speed doesn't come with speed reading.

Amaris reached over the table, taking the book from him. Believe me, I remember. She rested back in her chair, flipping to the index of the book. You never answered my question from earlier. Why are you here, Pietro? She peered up, staring at him over the book.

I could listen to you say my name all day long, he cooed, finding it rather relaxing. He crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair as he balanced it on the back two legs. I haven't heard from my sister in a couple of weeks. Last place I knew her to be was in this freezing hell hole.

So you came to the library? Please, I know you better than that. Amaris flipped to a chapter in the index that piqued her interest, rolling her eyes at his comment.

Pietro hummed a little, looking at her. No. But the sound of Summers' motorcycle rolling through the city was certainly something of interest to me. He rested all four legs of the chair on the ground before leaning on the table. So where is Summers?

Amaris looked up at Pietro, fumbling with the pen in her left hand. In New York, with the others. Amaris brisked over the sentences in the book, pulling out a few points. A location of an old quarry. Knowing militaries could be finicky about their locations, she wanted to make note of the quarry.

Pietro tilted his head, looking at the notebook she was writing in. Then who's on the bike? Your new boyfriend? He tested her, wondering what he was up against.

She looked visibly disgusted. Gross, no. A year was written, 1973. He's a friend. Scott and Ororo saved him a couple of weeks ago near Laughlin City, just north of here.

Pietro nodded, pressing his lips together. So you are just escorting him home with Summers' motorcycle.

Amaris set the pen down, looking at Pietro. Didn't you say your sister was missing? Isn't that more important than wondering if I'm dating anybody?

So, you are single. He commented, smiling again.

She tapped the pen on the notebook, her patience running thin with him. I have other things I'm doing right now.

Pietro nodded again, looking into her eyes again. Like destroying Liberty Island?

Amaris set the pen down on the notebook, Sssush! she commanded, then looked around to make sure people did not hear him. She looked back at him, clenching her jaw momentarily. How do you know about what happened on Liberty Island?

Pietro chuckled looking at her expression. World leaders gathered on Ellis Island, and some funky shit goes down on Liberty Island. Mutants are to blame. X-Men were obviously involved.

Amaris crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her legs. What do you want to know?

For starters, what are you really doing here?

A pair of boots could be heard approaching the table. The heavy smell of a freshly smoked cigar filled the air. Amaris knew her father was within feet of her. She smirked, knowing it was her out of the conversation.

Logan walked up behind her, noticing the other man. He observed him, quickly deciding something was wrong with the conversation at hand. Is everything okay here? He asked Amaris, standing behind her.

Amaris smirked at Pietro. Yes. She turned to look up at Logan briefly before looking back at the icy man. Just catching up with an old friend.

Pietro chuckled a little. You have a funny way of describing friends, Princessa. Logan eyed him, and a very low growl could be heard emitting from his throat.

Amaris smirked, knowing this was more for her entertainment than anything else. Pietro, this is Logan. My father.She watched as his smug grin began to evaporate. Logan, this is Pietro Maximoff. He was a student at Charles' school. She could hear the shift in his posture as she spoke. Pietro is my ex-boyfriend.

Pietro stood up quickly, adjusting his jacket. He never knew Amaris to have a father, nor to expect him to look so young. Logan watched him, silent as he watched the man squirm around. Your fath- Pietro's lips drew into a flat line again. It's nice to meet you, sir. I need to go, though. I need to find my sister.

Logan watched him, a master of the uncomfortable situation, as Pietro backed away, retreating from the mutant duo. He exhaled the breath he held onto, then walked around the table and sat down. What was his deal?

Amaris shrugged her shoulders. I don't know. He was always skittish. She looked back down at the book, picking up the pen again. A word to the wise, never date somebody with super speed. You'll regret it.

Logan nodded. Is he trusted enough to know about us?

Amaris nodded, scanning through the book again. Pietro is known for a lot of things. Betrayal and snitching isn't one of them. She looked back up at him after writing some more brief notes. What happened with the drink and pool?

Logan shrugged his shoulders. The scene is rather dead right now. Plus, I knew you couldn't stay out of trouble.

Amaris looked up at him, narrowing one eyebrow. She set the pen down, studying Logan for a moment. She studied his features, how he sat in the chair, how smug he looked poking fun at her time spent with an unexpected visitor. Misery keeps company.

An older man approached the table, appearing in his early sixties. Logan? Logan Howlett? Is that really you, boy?

Logan was quick to turn to the man, running a hand over the back of his neck. Me?

Amaris knew this was an opportunity they needed to find more information. Oh, sorry sir. This is my brother, Robert. Logan is our father. She watched as Logan looked back at her, winking at him to make him play along.

The older man was still fixated on Logan. His lip quivered as he spoke. Really? No kidding! Logan would have to be well into his fifties by now. My God, rest his soul.

Amaris was quick to respond again. Yes, he truly is his father's son. She paused for a moment, thinking about the later part of his sentence. Yes, I was still very young when it happened. Robert had a car accident not too long ago and he is experiencing some amnesia.

Logan looked from Amaris up to the older man, nodding. Right... yes. Really bad accident, as I have been told. He gently kicked her foot under the table, earning him a glare.

The older man nodded a few times, then turned to the girl. You must be little Amaris! Oh heavens, I remember your parents pulling up to the yard with you in the middle. You even took a little tumble in my office once. Logan was so quick to pick you up. He was mortified every time, constantly looking for scratches or bruises. You were a tough little cookie.

Her eyes softened a little, hearing the story the man told them. She struggled to push those feelings to the side as she continued her investigation. The yard?

The older gentleman chuckled a little, holding his belly. The lumbar yard. I doubt you would remember any of that now. You're much too young for that.

Logan looked up at the older man, placing a hand on his hip as he spoke. You know, I can't remember where the yard is. I keep trying to remember, but it all is still very blurry.

The older man nodded, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder. It was about an hour and a half west of here. There's a house built on it now, but the yard was there. A little lumber mill area that was operational in the seventies. Logan didn't make much, like the rest of us, but he made it work for his family. The man squeezed Logan's shoulder, proudly looking down at him.

His family? Amaris asked. Sorry, that sounded obvious, didn't it?

The man nodded. Most of the other guys didn't understand Logan. He was focused on his work and remained silent most of the day. However, he always smiled when he saw Kayla. She was a pretty young woman, she would be proud to see how big her little one has grown. Just as beautiful.

Kayla was a pretty woman.

Kayla was.

A woman appeared at the table. There you are, Hank. You can't run off like that. She gently scolded the man, taking hold of his arm with hers.

Hunny, look. He pointed to Logan and Amaris, proudly beaming. It's Logan's kids.

The woman turned to look at the two mutants. Her face lit up as she recognized their features. Her face then drew into shock, as if she had been seeing ghosts. It can't be.

Amaris looked over at Logan briefly, rolling her eyes to hint they should go. Logan ignored the direction, pressing on. We were just on a little trip. We were passing through, and we remembered Dad was from south Alberta. What was the harm in trying to find out some things about him?

The woman nodded, clinging to her husband's arm. Logan was such a hard worker. He was very reserved. I remember the day we found Kayla... and the car accident.

There seem to be a lot of those, lately, Logan commented, earning him a kick from Amaris.

What do you mean by finding Kayla? And the accident?

The married couple looked at each other, a somber look in their eyes. They silently agreed, then took the other two open seats at the round table. They held hands, resting them on the top of the table before the man began to speak. It was the summer of seventy-nine. Late summer, as school had started back for the young ones. Logan and Kayla pulled up to the yard, that Camino was an amazing car.

Hank, these kids came here to find out about their dad. Not his car.She spoke, squeezing his arm.

Amaris picked up her pen, slid her notebook in front of her, and kept eye contact with the couple.

Anyways. Kayla drove off as Logan and the rest of the boys loaded up and headed out to the site. Some of the men said Logan had acted funny. One thing led to another, and Logan ran away from the site. The gentleman looked down at his hands, shaking his head. You would have thought him a deer or a baby moose with how fast he was running. We called out for him, thinking he was suffering from the effects of the heat.

We found Kayla's body. She had been attacked in one of the clearings. It had to have been a bear, or a mountain lion. There was so much blood. He continued on, seemingly a little more upset each time he spoke. Amaris looked over at Logan, trying to read his face as they listened to the story. His expression from his nose down was solid, mirroring that of a brick wall. His eyes betrayed him, revealing the shock and horror he felt internally.

The older woman began to speak. The next day we found the Camino crashed into a tree near one of the bigger bridges around here. The floorboard was littered with whiskey bottles and beer cans. We searched for several days, but we could only come to the conclusion that..

The opening under the bridge leads into Alkali Lake. It was nearly a hundred-foot drop. If anything survived an impact like that, there wouldn't be much left to battle the current from the waterfall to the lake. The man finished the story, feeling the need to owe it to the two younger people.

Logan remained silent, Amaris could hear his heart race as his chest began to swell with bigger and more rapid breaths. Do you know what happened to their house? She asked, wondering if, by some miracle, it was still there two decades later.

The woman nodded. Yes, it's still standing, though it's in quite disrepair. Some say they can feel their spirits there, living as if life hadn't moved on from them. It's a big reason why it never sold and was just left abandoned.

Logan broke his silence, tracing a small circle on the table with his index finger. Where can we find it?

The older woman nodded, holding her hands out to Amaris for the pen and paper. Amaris made sure to flip her work over to the next page and hand over the items. She scribbled the address on the sheet of paper and then handed the items back. I don't know what will be left over there if you're looking for something in particular.

The man nodded, staring intensely at Logan. I never remembered Logan to have a boy.

The woman shook her head. Hank, our memories are failing us. He looks just as handsome as Logan though. She then turned back to Amaris, smiling warmly. You should stop by and see Koko.

Who's Koko? Should I know her? Amaris asked, quickly writing down the name.

The woman waved her hand. No, but Koko can help you find some pieces of your mother's heritage. She has a little shop next to the post office. She sells things she makes with her family. The beadwork is amazing. She also happens to have some records about Blackfeet families for the last seventy years.

Amaris nodded, closing the notebook. Logan took this as his sign to get up from the table. Thank you for your time. We appreciate what you could tell us about good ole Dad. He turned to walk toward Amaris, wrapping an arm around her shoulder after she gathered her things, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. Really? Amnesia?

Amaris hummed a little as the father and daughter made their way to the exit. He won't remember by tomorrow, she spoke confidently.

How can you tell, Logan questioned her.

As they crossed through the doors, she turned to look at him. He is sick. There is something wrong with him. He has a tumor, I think in his head.

Logan narrowed an eyebrow at her. How can you tell?

Amaris sighed a little heavily. When I was younger, maybe around thirteen, I could smell this really strange smell on one of my teachers. It smelled like heavy minerals, mostly iron. I kept pleading with him to see a doctor. Turned out he had a mass on his kidney, noncancerous thankfully. After that, Charles and Jean helped me practice my sense of smell. I was able to detect tumors easily, but then I began smelling colds and flu before others knew they were sick. She looked down, chuckling a little. I could heal from those ailments very quickly, but I always knew when others were sick before they ever started showing signs and symptoms.

Logan looked down at her. That's how you knew Kelly was sickly? She merely nodded in response to his question. That's impressive.

Amaris chortled, Not as impressive as smelling emotions. That certainly gives you a major step up on the battlefield.

Logan groaned a little, letting go of her shoulder. Yeah, let's keep the battlefield talk to a minimum. He had still been battling the visions he saw about different war zones he had been in. I tell you what, why don't you go to that shop the old lady was talking about.

Amaris watched him as he walked over to the motorcycle. What are you going to do?

Logan mounted the motorcycle, fishing for the keys. Keep my distance, make sure Mr. Blue-eyes stays away from us. Before she could get a word out, Logan revved the engine of the motorcycle, moving it to a better position to take off. He didn't bother waiting on the younger woman, choosing to head toward the post office himself. It couldn't be that hard to find, though he could give himself some time to think.

Logan had plenty of new things to think about now, and with each passing day, it became increasingly harder to not think about at least one soft spot he had. He had found himself taken to Storm. He couldn't tell if it was her warm eyes, her cool touch, or her demeanor. She commanded the room and the skies. He found himself thinking about her in the time passing from town to town from New York to Calgary. She seemed to pop up in strange places when things seemed to be coming to a head. She soothed over what the problem was, and then directed the next move.

He wondered how she was doing. What was she doing? Maybe teaching a class? Or running a mission with the others. Or she could have been on a date with a man he didn't know about. Or showering by herself.

Amaris honked the horn behind him, gesturing to the light as if it had been green. He exhaled, taking off again as the two traveled through the city. Still, he couldn't get her out of his brain.

About an hour later, Logan was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed as he stared at the storefront. Amaris had been inside for a while now, speaking with Koko. He could hear a phone ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out, looking more like a shiny belt buckle. It was a design for the X-men, allowing them to communicate with each other. Hello? Logan asked, still keeping his eyes on the storefront.

Logan, how's the trip going?

He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening a little. Her soft voice filled his ear canal, and he could almost feel his arms chill up. Huh, didn't think I'd be hearing from you. He shifted his weight around, kicking a rock before looking at Koko's place again.

Storm giggled a little, sounding amused. You have a promise to uphold. I have something of yours, so you must come back at some point.

Logan nodded. Oh yes, I remember. The missing weight from his neck had been a brief reminder of what his next steps had been after looking into Alkali Lake.

Good. Then your memory should serve you well in order to answer my previous question. She mused, a different tone in her voice, one that conveyed professionalism, but also personal inquiry.

Logan took in a deep breath, crossing one arm over his chest and tucking his other elbow on his wrist as he held the phone up to his ear. We made it to Calgary super early this morning.

Storm hummed a little at the words. That's impressive. You guys must have hardly slept.

Had she really been worried about their rest instead of how the trip was going? There's a difference between catching a few Z's and sleeping.

Oh? She asked, sounding rather quiet on her end. What's the difference?

Logan whispered darkly, I'll teach you when we make it back.

Storm was silent for a moment, though not too long. Come now, Logan. You know, it sounds like you're flirting.

Logan watched as Amaris left the store, a bag in her hands as she turned toward the Jeep. Oh doll, you don't know me well enough. He had smirked at the end of his sentence. His eyes caught a brief glance as something blue caught his eyes. There had been a side door that blocked the view of who was inside. However, Logan could clearly see the frosted hair and light blue jacket combo. Hey Storm, can you do me a favor?

Storm seemed a little caught off guard. Yeah, I suppose I can.

Tell me everything you know about Pietro Maximoff.He watched the young man, who appeared to be speaking to whoever had answered the door.

Pietro?She stammered the name a little, quickly thinking about what she knew. He was a student here. He left about four years ago. He wanted to travel the world.

Logan nodded, now standing off of the wall and dropping his crossed arm to his side. He and Amaris?

Storm's voice dropped a little, sounding sad. Amaris hurt him in the danger room one day. Just a scratch on his forearm. They had a fight about it. He called her an animal and said feral animals belonged in cages. He left the next morning. She hadn't been sure she should have been telling him that information. Is everything okay, Logan?

The older man watched as the younger one left very quickly, in less time than a blinking eye. Yeah... His eyes then drifted to Amaris watching as she loaded up the jeep. Thanks.

Storm pouted a little on the phone. Logan?

His glance shifted a little to the distance as she spoke. Yeah?

Storm hesitated a little, then mustered the courage to speak again. Can I ask a favor?

Sure, he whispered.

Take me out when you get back.

His eyebrows lifted a little, hearing the request. His heart felt as if it had raced a little, stuffing his hand in his jacket pocket. Yes ma'am. Logan knew he would have to leave, and see what was up with Amaris and the store owner. I'll talk to you later. Logan hung up the phone before he could give Storm enough time to respond, then tucked the phone back into his pocket.

He walked across the street, approaching his daughter. Find anything good in there, kid?

Amaris had turned around to face him, sporting a new braid in her hair with some beads in the colors of orange, yellow, and red. I couldn't tell if I was ever going to get out. She mused a little at the thought. Nothing about Kayla could be found here. But Koko was sure to send us on our way with some elk jerky.

Logan wasn't sure what to make of it, nor about seeing Pietro snooping around. Let's take today to unwind from driving. We can leave tomorrow and head on out.

Amaris looked up at her father, giving him a nod. He turned around, heading back to the motorcycle. She had watched him as he peered around in all directions as if he was looking for something. She grew a little concerned, wondering if he had remembered something else from his past, or if he was itching to get out of Calgary now.

The Jeep was packed with their belongings. Logan had fixed his backpack, making sure they had items like flashlights, matches, and some other items. He didn't need the flashlights as he could easily navigate the dark with his night vision. He wasn't sure why he was able to do this, other than having heightened senses. Still, it was for peace of mind to have.

Amaris had bundled up, wearing a dark red shirt paired with a brown flannel and a cargo jacket. Her boots were tightly laced, and her bag was resting in the passenger seat of the jeep.

The two had traveled up the mountain range a little, finding a clearing they could stop at. Amaris took a moment to appreciate the mountains. The top was covered in a thick layer of snow, the trees barren as the wind kicked past them and out over the open body of water. It had smelled so fresh, the innocence of the lake below them and the untouched snow above them. It was simply beautiful.

Logan scanned over the area, for the first time in a while hearing nothing. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling free from everything beyond the two of them. His mind could rest as he felt the peace the scenery provided them.

This peace wouldn't last long, as they both had their own missions. He exhaled, feeling the cool air he exhaled rush back on his face. I'm going to the quarry by myself. You should go to the house. He sounded firm in his instructions as if giving commands to the masses. We both have things we need to do, and we can't be in each other's way.

Amaris looked up at him, pressing her brows together. How do you know that?

Logan turned and looked down at her, putting one hand on her shoulder. Because what I am looking for isn't what you are looking for. He watched her as her eyes searched his. I'm looking for me. Who I am, who I was. You're looking for your parents.

Amaris exhaled a little, sounding like a gasp. I want to help you.

Logan shook his head as he watched her. Sometimes you have to do things on your own. He wasn't a sentimental guy, at least he believed that. He knew he had some things to work out on his own, but he couldn't subject her to his darker past. Logan closed the distance between him and Amaris, bringing his other hand to cup the back of her head. He embraced her, for the first time since he woke up in the infirmary.

Amaris hadn't been used to gestures like these from parental figures. Charles was her father figure, and he did his best. Yet, this was different. It was her father wrapping his arms around her. She could finally feel that security blanket she had been missing the majority of her life. It felt warm enough to burn her skin and heavy enough to bury her. It felt like home, what it should have been.

Logan placed a brief kiss on her hair, pulling away from the hug as he pinched the braid Koko had put in her hair. The pad of his thumb ran over the beads in her hair as his eyes lingered over them. Let's meet back here. If either of us don't return by this time tomorrow, take this phone and call the X-Men. Logan showed her the phone, put it in a bag, and then walked over to a tree, hanging it up on a barren branch.

She placed a hand on her hip, watching him as he hung the bag up. Does it have to be up so high? She joked at first, needing to exert some of her emotions. As he turned to face her, a smile crawled on his face, shaking his head as he looked down. Don't give me a reason to use the phone. She told him sternly.

Logan chuckled a little, now holding the keys to the motorcycle in his hand. Don't make me hunt you down.

The duo shared another look at each other before Logan mounted the motorcycle again. As he turned the engine over, some of the snow beneath him shifted. He started to climb up the road of the mountain again, leaving Amaris behind him.

The young watched her father as he continued on his drive, crossing her arms over herself, savoring the last little feelings from her father's warm embrace. It would be something she would hold onto until she saw his face again. She turned away from the beautiful scene of the snow-covered mountains and the still lake waters, entering the Jeep again. She turned the engine over, with only one thought on her mind. Please, Professor, watch over us. A simple plea was muttered before Amaris turned down the fork of the road, now making her way down the mountain pass toward the location of the house. The paper map had been weighted down on the passenger seat next to her, being her guide of where she was going.

For the first time in nearly twenty-one years, Amaris had been on her own.

And she was scared as hell.

She had turned the radio back on, playing a mix tape she had brought with her. The sweet instrumentals of Zombie began to play. The music filled the empty space of the Jeep, yet it still never reached her mind. There were so many questions she had been asking herself, and she was running short of proper resources to find those answers.

Nearly two hours later, Amaris came across the entrance of the road that would lead her to her childhood home. The closer she approached, the more she felt something was wrong. It couldn't be this easy to find the house without something going wrong. Her heart felt as if it would burst, and the pounding in her head grew louder and louder. She stared down the road, looking out to see the edge of one of the cliffs maybe a mile down the road. There hadn't been much foliage aside from some snow-covered bushes and grass. She had been so high up on the mountain that she could see bits of clouds that were leveled with her.

The woman shook her head, leaning against the steering wheel, a warm ball pooling in her stomach. She looked up to the sky as she heard the screeching of an eagle. She watched as it flew above her, circling a few times before turning toward the house, flying nearly parallel to the road. Amaris leaned back in the driver's seat, putting her foot on the gas pedal as she followed behind the bird.

She approached the house, seeing some piles of debris that were scattered about the property. The cabin house looked as if it was built in a circular shape with large beams on the roof covered in whatever debris could be tossed around. She shut the engine off, stepping out of the vehicle slowly as if her presence would notify an unsuspecting guest.

The eagle had landed on one of the beams that rested above a broken glass door. It watched as the young woman walked up a couple of steps where a once magnificent deck had been built. She covered her hair with her hands as she stepped into the cabin home through the broken glass doors. It had been four in the afternoon, according to her watch, but the inside portrayed a very different setting.

Aside from the bits of sunshine that poured in from the holes in the roof, the cabin home had been cast in darkness. She took a quick scan from right to left, looking at furniture that hadn't been touched in twenty years. The air had been a little stale-smelling, knowing not much had passed through this place aside from the occasional looter.

Amaris approached a medium-sized, round dining table. There had been a newspaper on it, the edges curling in as the paper had faded to a yellow hue. The words were hardly legible at this point, making its date useless. A wooden bowl had been knocked off along with a salt and pepper shaker. One chair remained, turned out to face the kitchen area.

She stepped over the piles on the floor where the ceiling had fallen in or where animals had made little nests to use. Some of the cabinet doors had been opened up, and a stary plate here and there remained. The young woman picked one up, running a finger around the rim of the plate.

Creak

Amaris turned around, exposing a blade she had in her shirt sleeve, throwing it in the direction of the creak. As quickly as her face turned from defense, her gaze softened, lowering her arm and catching her breath. What are you doing here?

Pietro, who used his speed abilities, caught the blade with his dominant hand. He spun the blade in his hand as he took a step forward, approaching the counter. You seem to like saying those words in the same sequence. He set the blade down on the countertop, then slid it across to her, leaving lines of dust on the countertop.

Amaris eyed him, not reaching out for the blade. You seem to like to pop up in places you have zero connection to. Her tone was cold, the opposite of their encounter at the library. You better start talking.

Pietro leaned against the weathered island, crossing his arms as he looked down at Amaris. You told me you were going to Alkali.

I did, it's beautiful. Do you need directions?

Pietro laughed darkly, his eyes raking over her form. I guess some people never change. His thumbs wiggled in the little cutouts of his sleeves as he rubbed circles into his arms. Why are you acting short with me?

Amaris gritted her teeth as she watched him. None of this made any sense to her, and everything in her mind had told her to run as quickly as possible. "Let's see, the last time we spoke, not yesterday, you cursed me in Sokovian. You called me a feral animal and said I belonged in a cage as if there was an opening in the zoo. You left without telling me.

Pietro exhaled sharply, looking down after her response. He remained silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. His piercing blue eyes met her warm hazel irises, stirring something between them. I was stupid, Princessa-

Amaris brought her hands up at her face level, curling her fingers and then resting her arms at her sides. Stop calling me that. I am not a princess. I am not your princess. I am an animal. You made that clear. I've made that clear.

Pietro reached a hand out to her, however she took a step away from him, turning around to face the ruins of her childhood home. She swallowed hard, tightening her eyes as tears threatened to spill over.

I was much younger then. I don't know what it's like to have powers like you, just like you don't know what it's like to have powers like me. He continued, watching her as she reacted to him.

Amaris turned around, tears be damned as she replied. You don't think I've ever imagined what it would be like to have super speed? Or angel wings? Or literally any other power? Do you know how much sleep I have lost thinking about how I hurt you? Or how I may lose control one day and hurt somebody else? Do you know what it's like to have pain constantly ripping through your hands when you're driving, or writing, or doing literally nothing? She felt a couple of tears stain her face as she watched him take in her response. Do you know what it felt like to sit up on the rooftop and watch you willingly turn your back on us and leave the mansion because of one shitty danger room session? You didn't have the nerve to tell anybody you were leaving. I had to watch you as you walked, and then ran away.

Amaris breathed heavily, letting everything she had felt out, mostly through her words. Pietro took another step closer to her, making Amaris take another step backward. Amaris, every time he spoke her name, he would always roll the r, I should have never called you an animal. I should have never made those comments.

Her furrowed brows slowly softened, returning to their normal state as her eyes widened at his statement. Her clenched fists that threatened to bear her claws loosened up as she watched him take baby steps toward her. This wasn't the normal Pietro she had been used to, somebody who had a hot temper and was quick-witted was now remorseful and acted wounded.

Scratches heal, they leave scars that have stories to tell. He then raised his jacket and shirt sleeve revealing the scars she had left. The very faint, yet defined scars. I've carried a little bit of you with me these last four years. Every day I get to wake up to you, and every night I get to say good night to you.

Amaris shook her head, freezing in place, as he finally walked up to her. He looked down at her and lowered his sleeves, the cold nearly affecting him instantly. Pietro, why are you here?

His hands reached to cup the sides of her face. Amaris tried to pull away but was unable to, only able to look down as a final tear left her eyes. I saw you again, and I knew I couldn't let you go again.

She could feel his presence begin to close the short distance between them, and instinct kicked in.

Control your breathing, and imagine the space around you, minimal movements make for big differences.

Amaris brought her hands up, forcing his hands off of her face. She walked away from him, walking toward the torn and weathered couch. I was never yours to lose. She looked down and spotted a blanket, covered in leaves and mildew.

Princessa, I-

Creak

Get down! Amaris yelled, rushing over to him and yanking him down to the floor. She could hear voices outside of the cabin, the sound of a couple of engines cutting off, and radio chatter.

Pietro collapsed to the ground with her, unable to hear exactly what she heard. What are you doing?

Amaris rolled her eyes, peering around the corner to scan the wall opposite of them. I swear the next time you say those words, you will be tasting them.

Found them, sir, permission to engage? came a deep voice from a man. There was radio static for a brief moment before the sound of falling glass could be heard.

Hope you have your dancing shoes on. She replied before stalking her prey. She had already been in a vulnerable position, being in an environment she had not been used to. However, she would make things work. She slipped over to the couch, flipping it over as two men entered the cabin. They fired their weapons at it, sending stray feathers and stuffing around. Amaris used it as her distraction, jumping out from behind the flipped couch and attacking the men. She had disposed of them, killing them with three claws to their chest.

Another began to fire at her. Pietro made his way around the counter, using his powers to move one of the bullets around to face the gunman again. Amaris watched as he fell to the ground and Pietro faced her, giving a thumbs up. Her attention was diverted when she took a stumble forward, feeling the burning sensation of a bullet entering her back. Fuck! she grunted, taking a moment to stand up again. She turned around to face three more gunmen. Of course, it has to be guns.

The gunmen began to fire again, several of the bullets hitting Amaris and littering her jackets and shirts. She charged at them, sheathing the claws of her right hand to punch one of the men in the face. She then unsheathed the claws again, stabbing another of the men.

She felt a wisp of air as Pietro joined her in the squabble, taking the third man and tossing him off the little deck. He turned around to see Amaris killing the other two guards, the backflow of blood splashed on her face as a dark look overtook her features.

Amaris stood up, her claws retracting slowly as she breathed heavily. She turned to look at her ex-lover, seeing a mix of emotions on his face. Whether it had been a post-rush of adrenaline he had, or if he had been mortified by what he saw, she didn't have time to care. She walked over to the man who was now on the ground. She knelt beside him, lifting him up by the collar of his shirt. Who the hell are you?

The man grunted, recovering from the fall he took. Wouldn't you like to know, sweetheart?

Amaris nodded a little, her jaw dropping slightly before pulling a half smile. Oh, you think this is funny? Amaris stood up, dragging the man by his collar as she approached the edge of the cliff. He squirmed under her grip, desperately driving his heels into the dirt. She had been strong enough to pull him to the edge, flipping him over to look down at the drop below them. I'll give you another chance. You tell me who you are, or you become the wolf's next meal.

The man's cries slowly turned into laughs as he looked down at the opening below him. You'll kill me either way. Why should I tell you who I am?

Pietro walked up behind her, holding his hands out. Woah, think about this. The Professor didn't teach you this.

Amaris looked at the man, then back to Pietro. There's a lot he taught you that you forgot about. She then looked back at him, now shifting some of his weight over the side of the cliff. Why did you come here?

The man shook his head, the same demented tone vibrated through his voice. You were not the target.

Amaris was puzzled at his response. Who?

You already know who.

Amaris felt a fit of rage fill her again. She screamed, picking the man up and throwing him back toward the house. She walked back to him, unsheathing her bone claws again. Who do you work for?!

The man looked at her, catching his breath. It's too late for me. She watched as he flexed his tongue, then heard the distinct sound of something cracking in his mouth. A couple of seconds later he began to convulse before a gray-blue substance seeped from his mouth.

Amaris stood up, shocked by his actions. She watched as he suffered through the effects of the self-ingested poison, looking at him with disgust. Pietro stood at her side, looking down at the man. He was at a loss for words about what he saw her do, how quickly she acted, and how ruthlessly she defended herself.

She heard the radio static again, coming from one of the corpses. She walked over to the body, finding a radio clipped to his vest. She picked it up, pressing the button. I don't know who you are, I don't care who you are. I need answers.

An older man's voice responded to her. I am not looking for you, pet. At least, not yet.

She had been disgusted by his response. Why were they always so creepy? If you're looking for an animal, you've found one.

He chuckled before responding. I know. Each member of that team was embedded with a microchip that would relay to us their vital signs. Seems you like to take direct approaches. You should keep up the good work.

Amaris shook her head, pressing the button again. You come looking for me again like this, or anybody I care about, understand no moral code will keep you safe from me.

Trust me, Miss Howlett, we will be seeing each other. Hopefully next time, it's in person.

She dropped the radio on the man's body, looking down as it rolled right off of him. She turned to head back into the house, though she was grabbed by Pietro. He firmly held her elbow in his arm, earning him a look from the shorter woman. We should leave. They will send more men out here.

She tugged away at him, freeing her from his grasp. Not until I find something. She didn't give him any time to react as she turned away and entered the home again.

Logan had found a part of the lake that had been mostly untouched. The cold winds came rushing past him as they moved the tides of the lake. Snow crunched under his boots as he took in the scenery. There had been a dam at the lake, separating a small portion from the rest of the lake. It didn't seem to be serving a particular purpose, other than dividing the two bodies of water.

He removed the cigar from his mouth, blowing out the smoke as he figured out his next steps. He found himself wondering what he would find at the facility. If it had secretly still been active, what would he find there, and if this would resolve his problems? The Professor had promised him answers, yet Logan craved more. He wished the older man would have magically restored his memory, and figured out what wall was blocking him from being able to remember his past and who he was.

Until two weeks prior, he was Logan, The Wolverine.

Now he was a father, a cage fighter, and an X-Man.

Logan found his way to the facility entrance of the dam, the place where he had been told there was a quarry. He came across a half-broken barbed wire fence with government signs on it. The broken fences and the decaying metal and wood gates told him that the place hadn't been touched in years, maybe over a decade. Logan was met with a white wolf at the gate, the two animals staring each other down. They seemed to have come to a silent agreement as the wolf turned around and walked into the facility. Logan followed behind it, making sure to give them each enough space.

As Logan approached the gates he looked to his left, spotting a sign.

Alkali Lake Industrial Park Department of Energy and Natural Resources

Logan pushed on, sliding through the gate to finally see what was on the other side. He looked around, shocked to see ruble about him, the ruins of a building were all that remained aside from the lake.

"No", he thought. This couldn't be what Charles had seen in his mind. This wasn't the right place. There was nothing.

Logan screamed out loudly, exposing his metal claws as he slashed at a decaying column, snow shuffling around him as the debris fell. He fell to his knees, looking up at the sky, crossing his arms as they lay in his lap. It was all gone, none of it was there.

He hadn't been sure of what he was trying to find, or what he would find when he did. Yet, this felt more devastating than finding anything. Another thing had been ripped from him, something he was missing was gone again, and this angered the man. Why was this happening to him?

Amaris had shuffled through the house, moving debris so she could look under it or access parts of the cabin that had been blocked before. Pietro followed her, keeping his distance as she tore through the home. Amaris, there's nothing here.

The shorter woman grunted as she moved one of the collapsed roof beams that had blocked her from a closet. I refuse to believe that. Something has to be here. She pulled on the doorknob, opening a closet. There were clothes still on the hanger. Nothing seemed to have been touched, the roof above the clothes was still intact, and no sun had pierced through. She moved some of the hangers, finding some flannels and band t-shirts. She had pulled one flannel out, her fingers running down the sleeves. It was a brown color, somehow having a lingering pine smell to it. Hold this. Amaris extended the item out toward Pietro.

He sighed, then took the garment from her. You came here for a shirt? I would have bought one for you.

Amaris continued to look through the closet, squatting down as she found a metal safe. She pulled it up, wiping her hands over the top of it.

Alkali Lake Industrial Park Department of Energy and Natural Resources

She stood up with the case in her hand. No, we're here for this. She walked around him, heading back to the kitchen area. She avoided the bodies of the men they had killed, a strong scent of metal filling the room. Amaris set the case on the countertop, her hands now hovering over the latches.

Pietro followed her, tossing the shirt over his shoulder as he hung onto it for her. What's the matter?

She looked at the words of the case, feeling a sense of dread begin to brew in the pit of her stomach. My parents lived here... I lived here. My mother died when I was three, my father lost his memories, and I ended up in Charles' care. She exhaled a shaky breath as she finally unlatched the case. I need to know who they were.

Pietro stood next to her as she removed the top of the case. He wasn't sure how he could help her at this point, other than silently support her. He watched as her small hands began to shake as she reached for the first layer of contents.

Amaris picked up a set of photos, letting out a sound close to a muffled sob. The top picture had been of two people standing in front of the house. The man had been Logan, his arms wrapped around a woman who was holding a baby. The woman was beautiful. The black and white picture had given Amaris her first-ever glance at her mother.

She flipped to the next picture, showing Kayla asleep on the couch. The third was Logan holding an older Amaris on his shoulders in the living room. The same living room where that once little girl killed militia sent out for her.

She carefully set the pictures back in the case, now pulling out a weathered folder and a journal. She opened up the leather-bound journal and began to read the first page.

My name is James Logan Howlett. My mother was Elizabeth Howlett, my father was John Howlett. I have a brother named Victor. I was born in 1832 in a private estate to my parents some years after Victor. My wife's name is Kayla Silverfox, an ordinary person compared to me, though she is extraordinary next to me. I have a daughter, my little moon. Amaris was born in April of 1976 in Calgary. I wish to one day give her a life worth living, and I hope that she is a normal human like her mother, so she may never live a curse like mine.

Her eyes scanned over the sentences multiple times. Her mind could not comprehend what she was reading.

James Logan Howlett... born in 1832

She lowered the book on the countertop, her shoulders slumping. Pietro's quick hands rested on the small of her back and her forearm. Princessa?

Amaris looked from the journal to Pietro, her eyes filling with tears again. Tears she had been terrified to release for days. For years. My father... he's - he's over one hundred and fifty years old. Her voice came in a whisper as she verbalized what she read. His eyes widened as he searched her face, wondering how it had been possible.

Amaris turned back to the book, slowly flipping through the pages. There had been mad scribblings of different dates in time. The American Civil War, The Spanish-American War, World War One, World War Two, the Korean War, The Vietnam War. Scribbling of troop numbers, commanding officer names, division classes, and military ranks.

The pounding returned to her head as she realized that her father had been involved in almost every single major war in the northern parts of North America for nearly one hundred years. This made his night terrors and mumblings sense now. He had been a man who had fought in turmoil for one hundred years, who only remembered the last twenty-one years of his life. This isn't fair. She muttered, closing the journal, unable to read more about what had happened to him.

Pietro set a hand on hers, pleading with her. Stop. Don't do this to yourself.

Amaris shook her head, looking up at him. I have to know what happened. She persisted, now looking down at the folder. Pietro removed his hand, watching as she studied the folder.

Amaris looked at a letter that rested on top. The handwriting had been different, more wispy and thin. Her eyes widened at the greeting.

Amaris covered her mouth as she turned around, leaning against the counter for support.

My dearest Amaris,

If you are reading this, it means I am no longer here and something terrible has happened. I only ever wished to burn this letter one day and hoped you would never have to find out the truth.

I hope I get to see you grow up. I want to see what type of person you become. I already know you are as stubborn as your father, which will be my biggest challenge when raising you. I also know that you brought a new light to his eyes the night you were born. I thought I knew Logan before that night, but he surprised me and became a different kind of man as soon as his big arms wrapped around your tiny little body.

I want you to know that out of everything you learn about what has happened, my love for you has never changed. It never will. What I did was something I will never expect you to understand, but I hope one day you will forgive me for it. I only wanted to save my sister, your aunt, from the ones who made your father into what he is now. I didn't want to betray his trust, as I do love him. But my darling little honey badger, I had no choice.

I may be dead less than twenty-four hours from now, either by the hands of your father, his creator, or his brother Victor Creed. Victor is a mutant like your father and I, he goes by Sabertooth. I will do everything in my power to make sure you are well looked after when I am gone if your father can not take care of you. When you miss me, only turn to the moon. It is there I hope to go so I may look down at my beautiful child. My Amaris.

With all of the love in the world, and the deepest of apologies,

Your mother Kayla Silverfox

Amaris fell to her knees, her chest heaving. She wanted to scream, parting her lips, however, her emotions were too thick all she could let out was a gasping sound followed by silent sobs. Pietro dropped down, wrapping his arms around Amaris, and pulling her toward him. What is it?

Amaris leaned into his chest as he held her, holding the letter close to her chest as her tears fell in her lap. My-my..moth- Another sob rumbled through her chest as her brain looped the letter back again. She buried her face into his chest, the zipper of his jacket scratching her nose as she tried to burrow deeper. Pietro held her in one arm, his other brushing down her hair, cooing to her in an attempt to soothe her. Amaris tilted her head up to look at him, breaking her silence again. My mother turned my father over to whoever made him into what he is now. She betrayed him, and now he doesn't know who he is.

She continued to cry as Pietro brushed the hair out of her face, then pulled her back in, cupping the back of her neck as he held her. Let it out. I'm here.

Amaris wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him closer. He thought she was human, and she lied to him... why would she lie to him? Pietro remained silent as Amaris tried to process her feelings, wondering how on Earth her father fell head over heels with Kayla, who seemed more than willing to trade him for the world.

The night had been the longest of Amaris' life. She collapsed into the arms of her ex as he stalked her through the Canadian Rockies. She unleashed a small portion of her animalistic side as she killed armed men coming for her and Pietro. She found some clothes that smelled of her father, found photos of her family, and found devastating news about her parents.

Amaris looked through the folder to see its remaining contents, mostly holding written communication from Kayla to Victor or to "Agent Zero", speaking about Logan and getting him to return to his brothers. Kayla had been working for months with Sabertooth to make Logan join them again. She found a plan Kayla wrote about convincing Logan, with her powers, that she had been killed by Victor. Plans that would lead Logan down a path to choose to undergo experimentation in the Weapon X program.

On the opposite side of things, she read through her father's journal, reading his stories from different wars. It was hard to believe that her father and Sabertooth, a man who had killed Amaris two weeks prior, had been the best of brothers fighting side by side in the wars. The words were sickening to her, reading about how much her father had changed for his family for him to never learn of Kayla's betrayal.

She walked out to the jeep, accessing the damage on it. The engine had been shot multiple times and various colors of fluid stained the snow below. There was no way she was going to be able to drive it back down the mountain, let alone across two countries. Pietro had run away like a scared dog the moment she left the living room area the night before, leaving her alone on the mountaintop. She looked over to the other vehicles that the militiamen brought. She knew they would be tracked by its agency, making it easy to find her. When she thought all hope was lost she turned her head to the side, finding another building on the property.

Amaris was drawn to the building next to the cabin. It seemed to be in rather good shape, as if it had been regularly checked in on from time to time. She was cautious in her approach as she walked up to it. There had previously been a large door that no longer existed, which displayed the contents of the building. Maybe it was an old garage door or a large barn door that no longer existed.

Her eyes were drawn to the center of the garage, something large was in the middle with a weathered tarp over it. She gathered a large handful of the fabric, ripping it off of the object. Her eyes widened seeing the restored 1965 El Camino the old man had told her about previously, sitting in the garage of its owner.

She laughed to herself, approaching the door and opening it up. The window had been rolled down and the keys were sitting in the bench seat. Oh, Dad. Her whisper filled the cab as she entered the driver's seat, her hands resting on the steering wheel. She looked down at the keys, picking them up as she eyed her damaged jeep sitting in front of the house.

Amaris put the keys in the ignition, switching it over. The rumble of the engine grew in decibels as she revved its engine, bringing the classic beast to life. With a new means of transportation, Amaris turned the car off after looking at its gas tank reader. The jeep had enough in it to fill up the Camino. She had a plan. Siphon the gas from the jeep, put the extra canteen of gas in the trunk bed along with everything she found, make sure everything about Xavier was out of the jeep, take the plates, and go. Once back in the city she could call Scott and get him to fix some documents to make the Camino legal with the plates and tags of the Jeep. It was perfect!

She packed up the case in the Camino along with some clothes that survived over the years and some photos she was able to save. Pietro had left in the middle of the night, needing to find a place where he could comfortably get warm. The young woman left the cabin home, regretting having ever searched for it. She would have rather lived her life without the answers had she had a thought that maybe something else had been working against her.

Then there was that group that attacked her, she had no idea who they were or who sent them. The threat that one day he wanted to was the next motivation she had to improve her skills. She wasn't a little Barbie doll to be played with when others wanted, she was going to be a force they dared not to cross.

She approached the spot where she had last met her father, seeing a figure in a leather coat sitting on the edge underneath the bag he hung up. As she cut the engine off, Amaris sighed, grabbing the case. It wasn't hers to have, it was his. She shouldn't have gone digging through the case, but she could not deny herself the anticipation of knowing its contents.

The woman trudged through the snow bank and then took a seat next to him. Logan looked over at her, taking in a deep breath. Pine, peppermint, and gunpowder. Amaris felt his stare, turning to look at him. Instead of answering the unasked question, she held the box in her hands, holding it out for him to take.

Logan looked at the box, taking it. He saw the same words as he did on the gate of the dam, hearing something shifting inside the box.

Before you open it, Amaris started, Just know that whatever you think after this, I still want to help you find the answers you're looking for.

Logan looked from her to the box. He battled with opening it himself, wondering what rabbit hole it would lead him down. Here goes nothing, right? The man opened up the case, finding it in the same order as Amaris found it. Pictures on the top of a life he didn't remember. The images did try to dig a response out of his mind, but nothing stuck.

The next thing he pulled out was the journal. He tapped his fingers on the cover of the book. There was nothing at the quarry. It's been destroyed by the weather, and I'm assuming other things.

Amaris looked from him to the lake below them, watching the water rippling around the little islands and the shores, looking down at her hands. Well, you missed all the action. She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Logan nodded. So that's why you smell like gunpowder, and you lost the jeep?

Amaris reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out five bullets. The one from my shoulder was the most painful to shed.

He looked from the bullets to the journal, his fingers pinching the cover. Hope it was worth finding this. Amaris' face grew cumbersome as she put the bullets into her pocket again, watching him open the journal. She watched his face switch emotions from curious to shocked, then to anger.

Logan's eyes scanned over the sentence, recognizing the handwriting as his own. It was cleaner though, practiced strokes with a pen. The man who wrote it clearly wanted his words to be legible as if he didn't want to forget who he was.

Logan let out the breath he held in his chest as he read over and over again the beginning paragraph. His name, his parents, his brother, his birth year.

Sabertooth? Sabertooth was his brother? In what universe would that make sense? The same man that had nearly killed him two weeks prior, threatened Ororo's life. The same man who killed the young woman next to his side, his daughter. Sabertooth's niece.

He swallowed hard as he looked down at the world. It only made sense why Sabertooth's vendetta ran strong against Logan. The man closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. This wasn't what he thought he would find.

Amaris looked up at her father, wanting to do anything for him. Unable to find the words, she did something she even thought herself was questionable. She leaned against his side, her head resting against his shoulder. People evolve over time. They change their clothes, their hair, and sometimes their personalities.

Logan opened his eyes, turning his head to look down at her. His chest heaved a couple of deep breaths before he looked back down at the box. Inside he found some more pictures and a folded-up piece of fabric. It was a canary-colored baby dress. He set the journal down, reaching for the little dress. He held it up with both of his hands, his thumbs and index fingers pinching the shoulders. His eyes scanned it, never imagining seeing something so little being able to wear it one day. He brought it up to his face, inhaling a deep smell. His eyes flashed open staring out at the lake in front of him but his mind faded back to 1976.

Memories of a baby crying could be heard. The crying turned into laughter. "Where do you think you're goin', little lady?" he asked the little baby crawling on the floor. He saw images of himself sitting on the couch as the little girl sat in his lap drinking a bottle or eating a snack. Images of him holding his little family filled his mind.

Logan lowered the garment from his face, looking over to the girl sitting by his side. She looked up at him, seeing the shock spreading across his face as he smelled the air around her. Amaris?

The woman stared at him, narrowing one eyebrow. Dad? What's the matter? She could hear his heart pounding a mile a minute.

He dropped the dress, his hands reaching out to cup her face, one thumb dragging across her cheekbone. I... I remember. His words came as a whisper as his eyes quickly examined her features. She smelled the same as she did as the baby he remembered, aside from the new baby smell. Cinnamon, fir wood, and evening primrose. His jaw quivered as his hazel eyes met hers. I remember you. Logan fell into his heart's wishes, pulling her into his hold. It had been a different type of embrace compared to the one before. Somehow, a different side of his personality awakened by the dull scent of his baby girl, now a grown adult.

Amaris's eyes were wide as Logan pulled her tightly, holding her close to his frame. She almost felt the force of his strength was going to suffocate her before long. It was then that he pulled away from her, looking her face over again. You look so much like your mother. He studied her as if it had been the first time he saw her.

Amaris bit her tongue as he spoke about Kayla, somebody she had been the most anxious to learn about. Now knowing her secrets and how it drove the family apart.

The sound of snow crunching thankfully ended those thoughts. Amaris pulled out of his hold, standing and spinning around, unsheathing her bone claws. Logan stood up as quickly as possible, discarding the metal case to the side as the metal pierced through his skin. He stood over her and she hunched down near the ground.

Men began to approach the two of them, guns pointed at them. Amaris could hear static again near her ear. Her tiny braid that was weaved by the older Blackfoot woman brushed past her ear. She listened closely as a slight hum could be heard near her ear. She gripped the lock of hair, using her bone claws to cut it away. She put a tracker on me.

Logan snarled as he eyed the team of eight men. One of them began barking orders. This can all be very easy for you. Surrender and we won't hurt you.

The mutant man shook his head. I'm tired of taking orders from men like you.Logan charged at the men, bullets beginning to fly through the air. Logan made his way to the leader of the group, piercing his chest with his metal claws, and then tossing him over the hood of the Camino.

Amaris ran towards one of the outliers as he began to follow her father. She ran up behind him, jumping on his back before stabbing him with two claws. The man fell to the ground, using the last bit of energy he had to fire his gun again. Unluckily for Amaris, it pierced through one of the tires on the Camino.

With two of the men down, the others began fighting without order. Logan used the body of the first man he killed as a shield, approaching two more and quickly taking them out with expert precision. Logan tossed the body of the man to the side as another man charged him head-on.

As the man knelt on the ground, Amaris ran up to him, using him as a ramp as she placed one boot on his back to give her a running jump at the man. She sunk both of her hands into his shoulders, using her body to her advantage as she shifted her weight around and maneuvered him to the ground. Logan had been taking care of the last three men while Amaris stabbed the man beneath her several times. If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough, little girl.

The man used his weight against her, pinning her in an awkward position for her. In the flip, he wrangled one of her hands around, nearly snapping her wrist. Tell your old man Stryker says hi. The dying soldier maneuvered them one more time and a grueling snap could be heard.

Amaris looked down at her freed hand, only to see the three bone claws had been snapped off. She looked at the soldier who was slowly dying with a bloody smile as the missed three claws protruded from his shoulder and neck area. Amaris breathed rapidly, then hollered out as she gripped her wrist.

Logan had finished handling the business with the last of the troops when he turned around hearing her scream. He rushed over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. As he took a step around to face her, his eyes caught the sight of her broken claws, observing the jagged cuts of the bone. His hands reached out for hers, looking over the damage she took. Charles can fix this.

Amaris looked up at him, the pain in her face overtaking her drive to hide her emotions as she began to cry. She shook her head before speaking, He can do many things, but he can't fix my mutation. Her eyes shifted from his down to her wounded hand. Blood dried on her lip as the last little drop fell onto one of her broken claws. I'm sorry, I lead them here. Her voice came as a whisper, turning to look back at the lock of hair hanging onto a rock on the ground next to where they had been sitting. They're looking for you... and I led them to you...

Logan knelt down in front of her, shaking his head as he pulled her face to look at him. People will always be looking for me, I suppose. But you didn't do this. It ain't your fault, baby girl. He wiped away a run then ran down her cheek. We need to get out of here as fast as possible. Avoid that boy of yours, get back to the mansion.

Amaris looked up at him, pressing her eyebrows together. But Alkali and the quarry-

It's gone. What I have that's left of me is what you found in that case, and You. His voice faltered toward the end, cracking with emotion. His hazel eyes met her hazel ones in a different light from their previous interactions. Something in him came to life when he remembered her as his little baby, following him around the house and clinging to his pant legs. Dancing in her high chair as they listened to music or had been eating. Snoring softly on his chest with her mother tucked under his arm asleep at his side. I found you, and I ain't about to let you go.

Amaris leaned into his hold, holding her injured hand closely to her chest as he wrapped his arms around her long hair, doing his best to comfort his little girl. We're gonna take this nice and slow, okay? Come on. He spoke to her, his arms wrapping under her legs and behind her back, picking Amaris up into his arms. He walked over to the Camino, opened the door, and set her in the passenger seat. He closed the door, walking over to the motorcycle. As easily as he picked her up, he picked the motorcycle up, setting it into the trunk bed of the Camino. He finally walked back to the metal box, picked it up, and walked toward the car with it.

Amaris looked down at her backpack, knowing she kept the file safe from him. The last thing she wanted him to know was that his family was so traitorous to him that to know even the woman he once loved was willing to trade him for her gain felt wrong. Would he ever think the same of Amaris, who only wanted to protect him from the truth? Would she hurt him more by concealing these documents from him?

The pain of her injured claws receding back into her forearm had been more painful than the thoughts she had. As Logan entered the cab of the Camino, he looked over at Amaris, watching her knuckles and wrist heal over. He turned the engine over, shifted it into gear, and drove down the mountain. They needed to get to the Mansion as quickly as possible, for their safety, and for more answers.

Nearly three weeks had passed since the events of Logan being attacked. In that amount of time, he had become a part of a team that defended mutants while also protecting humans, learned he had a daughter, and began to remember his past. He recalled more memories from different wars he had been in with each passing day since reading his old journal. He could also faintly remember his brother's face, how they cared for each other well and had been close. Now, Victor was gone, a shell of what he used to be in Logan's memories.

Logan led the drive down the driveway of Xavier's Institute, the motorcycle roaring with the old Camino following behind him. As they approached the garage of the mansion, Logan could see students and teachers peeking through the curtains. He chuckled to himself, finding a good spot to park before turning off the engine.

He walked to Amaris as she got out of the Camino, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Well, that was a great vacation. She commented, grabbing the box of items she rescued from their home. What are you going to do next?

Logan pursed his lips, shrugging his shoulders. I should speak to Charles. There has to be something we're overlooking. He walked by her side as they walked around to the main entrance of the mansion. And you?

Amaris didn't know what she should do. There were a million things on her mind, but her next steps back in the mansion seemed a million miles away. I don't know.

Logan opened the door, walking through and holding it open for her. You'll figure it out, I'm sure.

Logan! Came a giggling-sounding Rogue as she approached Logan and Amaris. She carefully wrapped her arms around his neck as he reached to hug her back. Amaris had closed the doors as the two interacted. Some other students passed by, greeting the man as they walked to their next classes.

Did you miss me, kid? He asked as they let go of each other. He chuckled when she shook her head no. How are you doing since we've been gone?

Good, really. Find anything you were looking for out there?

Logan tilted his head side to side, then nodded. Just a few things. He watched as a teenager approached Rogue, looking to be her same age, if not a year older. Who's this?

Bobby eyed him, holding his hand out. I'm Bobby. Rogue's boyfriend. He sounded very stern as if warning the older man. Logan reached out to shake his hand. Call me Iceman. Logan watched as Bobby's hand turned to ice, freezing Logan's hand.

Amaris approached them. Bobby. There are different ways to introduce yourself. She spoke, then watched as the two let go of each other's hands. Bobby nodded, remaining silent. Bobby is one of my students. Well, as long as I haven't been replaced or let go of.

A set of heels could be heard walking down the stairs next to them. It's okay, you just used all of your PTO for the year,Storm spoke, placing her hand on the rail. Look at who's come back.

Logan had looked up first, meeting Storm's gaze as she descended the stairs. He smiled, watching her every step. Yes, well, I left something here when I left. I had to come back for it.

Storm nodded, reaching for her neckline and removing the dog tags, gently handing them over. Logan smirked looking from the necklace to Storm. I wasn't talking about these, he hummed, earning him a chuckling response from Storm.

Amaris looked at Bobby and Rogue. Why don't you two go study or something? Who knows, we might have a pop quiz this week.

Bobby groaned at the sound as Rogue's gloved hand took hold of his hand and walked away from the adults. What are you going to do, Amaris? Storm asked her, using this time to avoid Logan's stare.

I'm going to find our good doctor. I need a patch job, she wiggled her fingers, looking up at her father and giving him a wink before walking away from her best friend and her father. What a wild concept.

Oh, she's downstairs. We picked somebody up yesterday. You should find her there. Storm then turned her attention back to Logan, his hand still cupping hers as she held the dog tags. We're taking the kids on a field trip tomorrow. We can always use an extra set of eyes when it comes to the students.

Logan hummed, looking down at their hands before looking at Storm again. I thought we were going out? As promised.

Oh, we are, Storm stated matter-of-factly. Tonight, seven o'clock. You pick the place.

Logan nodded as she set the necklace in his hand before walking away from him and heading down the hallway. Yes, ma'am. He spoke to himself, feeling a warm pit in his stomach. He couldn't remember what it was like to feel for another person before. He knew he deeply cared for and loved his daughter, but this was obviously a different type of feeling. What was it about the woman that made him feel so strange?

Scott appeared in the hallway, crossing his arms as he looked at Logan. Enjoy your joyride?

Logan looked at the other man, nodding. He fished for the keys out of his pocket, tossing them to Scott. It needs gas.

Scott caught the keys, and then tossed them back to Logan. Then fill her up.

Logan caught the keys, nodding slightly. After I take Storm out. He turned to walk down the hallway, hearing Scott mumble a little.

Logan walked down the hallway until he found Charles' office, hearing him on the other side. Before he could knock he could hear the older man's voice in his head. Come in Logan. Logan opened the door, adjusting his backpack as he entered. How did you fair?

We found some things, but not enough. He took in a deep breath as he watched the man in the wheelchair. Somebody had followed us for a while. Somebody who i think you know better than Amaris does.

Charles looked at him perplexed. Who was following you?

Logan took a seat on the couch as Charles gestured to him. Does the name Pietro Maximoff mean anything to you? He watched as Charles face turned white. I'd say it does.

Charles signed, looking at Logan as he spoke. Pietro was a troubled student. He was constantly in trouble with the staff here and local law enforcement. I will say he did observe better judgment when he was around Amaris.

Logan nodded, resting his forearms on his knees as he leaned in, locking his hands together. I think he is up to something.

Charles looked shocked. What do you mean by this, Logan?

He showed up where we were in Calgary. Said he was looking for his missing sister, but I could tell he was lying. Logan replied, unable to shake the feeling.

Did he say which sister, by chance? Charles asked.

Logan shook his head. No. As he watched Charles' expression change, he knew something else was wrong. Does it matter which one?

Charles moved his wheelchair so he could look out a window. He watched as children played on the basketball court. No, but Logan, there's something you should know about Pietro Maximoff. Logan watched as Charles spun his chair around to face him. Pietro's father is somebody you've already met. To know that you've had a run in with him already is concerning, but to hear he is potentially searching for a sibling ramps up this concern I have.

Logan stood up, walking over to Charles. Who?

Charles looked pained as he looked at Logan. Erik Lensherr. He choked out, thinking about the potential trouble that was brewing. Magneto.

Logan searched the Professor's face, watching as the man seemed to fall into a deep sense of dread. He followed us around, showed up in the places we went to, but he was actually following Amaris.

Charles looked up at Logan, hearing his words. I understand that she is your daughter, but I must implore you, you must keep an eye on her. If Pietro has decided to show up in place she hasn't been before, or he for the matter, she must remain guarded. She loved him, but he-

Logan could hear Charles' heart begin to quicken, a sure sign of panic or fear rising in his veins. He isn't any good, is he?

Charles shook his head, remaining silent as the two came to a silent agreement. Something was wrong, and some type of storm was brewing.

Amaris had dropped her items off in her bedroom, making her way down to the lab where she had been told she would see Jean. She had been wearing one of the band t-shirts that she recovered from the cabin home. It seemed he used to like The Rolling Stones int he seventies. It had been one of her fathers as the fabric swallowed her frame whole. All she needed was a pair of JNCO jeans and she could blend in with her students.

Jean walked around the corner, nearly walking into Amaris. The women laughed, catching their breaths before speaking. It's so nice to see you back, and in one piece! Jean spoke, looking thrilled to see the young woman back. Amaris' face fell from a happy one to a little somber one. What is it?

She held her hand up, wincing as she unsheathed her claws. I'm mostly one piece.

Jean was shocked, bringing her hands to touch the broken bones. My dear. She whispered analyzing the breaks. They were terrible, jagged and splintered.

Amaris nodded, biting her tongue as Jean touched the bone. The broken ends felt like live wires as the older woman examined them. I don't know if there is anything that can be done about it. I thought you were the best place to start.

Jean sighed a little, then holding her hands between both of hers. Let me do an exam. I'll speak with the Professor and Hank. Maybe we can do something like a prosthetic or figure out if your bones have any healing properties.

Amaris nodded, then following Jean into the Infirmary. She stood next to one of the tables as Jean began to gather some supplies.

Well I be. 'His must be heaven. Came a husky voice.

Amaris looked up, seeing a man with long red hair looking at her. She tilted her head to the side. Why? Because I'm an angel? She asked in her most dramatic flirty voice, sarcastically replying to the age old pick up line.

The man shook his head. If you're an angel, then I'm in the wrong place. See, 'dae don't fly down here wit me. It's too low for 'dem, an' their wings would burn up.

Amaris laughed a little, making the man point at her. Tell me, what's you name, Chere?

Amaris approached his bed, finally seeing his eyes. His irises were reg and the whites of his eyes were black. Amaris, Amaris Howlett.

The man grabbed her hand gently as she approached. Remy Lebeau, at your service. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, causing a warm flush to flash across her cheeks and down her neck. He looked up at her, then running his thumb over her knuckles. They call me 'da Gambit.

Amaris felt the smile creep onto her face before she could counteract it. Gambit, huh? That's a cool little codename you have there.

Remy gave a small nod of his head, looking up at the woman. I'm sure yours is somethin' to marvel at too.

Oh, no. I don't have a code name. She responded, forgetting about her hand at this point.

Give me a couple days, Gambit promises he'll give ya a nickname worthy to be chanted.

Jean cleared her throat as she entered the room. Amaris turned around quickly as Remy let go of her hand. This had certainly been the most exciting thing that has happened to him since being recovered by the X-Men.

Amaris left Gambit as he winked at her, having a funny feeling that by the end of the week he would have a different outlook on his life, and it might be due to the shy woman he met, Amaris Howlett.

[local-crying-boy]

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ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴊʀ || ᴘɪᴇᴛʀᴏ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴏꜰꜰ || ᴀɴ ᴍᴄᴜ ꜰᴀɴꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

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𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚏

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚢: 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑��, 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚍 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘, 𝚃𝚘𝚗𝚢 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒'𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:  2.3k

Series Masterlist

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𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐑 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

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It was around midnight when I finally pulled myself out of bed and out of my room after being unable to fall asleep for hours on end. At this point I had barely slept for weeks and was purely running on caffeine and anxiety.

With barely opened eyes, I walked towards the kitchen to make myself some coffee. I think I am becoming worse than my Dad and Mr. Stark, but I couldn't care less, I just wanted something to do for the time being.

It was quiet, I mean, it usually was in the apartment - more so when my Dad was home. So the silence in the apartment didn't unnerve me as much as it used to when I first started living with my Dad. Before, when I first moved in, I would always keep something on to have the background with something, anything. Though, as time passed on, I grew used to the silence and started to keep the sound on as loud as I wanted after Bruce left home for work (or as loud as I could put my music on without getting noise complaints).

On the dining room table, there was paper scattered across it, no doubt what Dad had been working on in secret for a few days. Not that the whole 'keeping work secret' thing bothered me, I always knew that my Dad wanted to keep the Avengers separate from my life so that I didn't have to endure the whole superhero world and the pile of trauma that was connected to it. Okay, he doesn't say it like that, but I know it is what he thinks whether or not he admits it in that way or not.

Anyhow, his work barely interested me, too much about the Avengers that I didn't want to occupy my mind - more specifically in the dead of night. Avengers work was much more stressful than school work, school work I could do in the dead of night, but try and understand Avengers work? That was for a day when I finally had no mental illness, or when I was no longer a high school student.

As much as I tried to listen to my Dad's conversations about his work, I simply could not pay attention. I think he knows this, but I insist on listening so much, and I think he probably is glad there is someone to listen to his little rambles, or dump information on, which I can understand.

I shrugged slightly to myself, almost as if I had actually been talking to someone, then walked to the kitchen. I made coffee almost subconsciously, not even realising I was making it until the boiling water started to make noise and made me more aware, more awake.

I stirred the coffee grains in with the milky water, hitting the side of the mug gently before putting it on the side beside the sink. I leaned my head on my hand, elbow on the kitchen counter as my other hand rested on the side of the heated mug, warming my hands. It was a cold night, the hotter seasons slowly creeping into the winter months and, yet, it was still too warm to fall asleep in a hoodie.

I glanced over at the ticking clock in the kitchen, the continuous tick-tick-ticking always had me to no end, I hated the sound of the endless ticking. It was almost 1AM. I could have sworn that more time had passed since I went to bed, but, regardless, I shrugged my shoulders once more, trying to get rid of the disappointment of having to stay up that much longer.

I blew lightly on the coffee, hoping that it would cool down faster so that I could drink it sooner rather than later, when I probably would have gone back to bed and finally slept. I took a quick sip from it, before muttering to myself when it inevitably burnt my tongue.

I picked up the mug and moved to the kitchen table, careful not to move any of the papers that my dad left out, just in case he might've noticed when he woke up. I ended up studying them quietly, but I could barely read the words because of how tired I was and how rushed the majority of the writing was.

Either way, I was never a science person. Of course, I knew what was going on in my classes and I got good grades, but that doesn't mean I have yet to have an understanding over anything my dad does with his colleague, Tony Stark.

I leaned back into the kitchen chair, letting out a long sigh. I took another sip of my coffee and observed the apartment, trying to pick out any new detail I've missed over the three years of living here. It was only small, but I thought that it was because my dad would mostly be at the Avengers Compound and, to think about it, it was usually only me in the apartment.

Three rapid knocks echoed through the apartment, I turned my head to the door in confusion. Who would be knocking on our door so late? Another three swift knocks echoed through the room again, followed by three more and another, annoying three more.

I tutted to myself in annoyance, getting up from my chair and walking over to the front door. The knocking continues and quickly fades into a continuous string of knocks, then into something that could be considered as banging.

I unlocked the door after I grabbed the keys from the table (which was really acting more like a bookshelf at this point) beside the door. I huffed as I unlocked the door with more aggressiveness than I intended.

The door opened and I saw Tony Stark standing with his hand in mid-air, no doubt planning to still continue his agitating knocking.

Tony was a close friend of my Dad's, I think especially since they were part of the Avengers and everything in New York and Sokovia kicked off, they only grew closer. Trauma bond, I assumed, but it might be because they're both basically, in my book, mad scientists.

"It's too early for this shit, Stark." I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

There was a certain look on Tony's face that I couldn't quite make out. He looked almost frantic, inspired almost, maybe even anxious. "Where's your dad?"

"Most likely asleep seeing as it is, oh, I don't know, fucking midnight." I scoffed with an annoyed smile. Clearly any energy I had for socialising disappeared yesterday afternoon; after I had a particularly annoying run in with some boys in my school during my least favourite class.

"Calm down, Little Banner." Stark tutted at me, though I could tell that frantic feeling still lingered through his façade of his usual self. "I need to see Banner."

I was tempted to make my usual joke of 'you're looking at him', but I figured it was a better idea to not. I don't often see Tony anxious, or panicky, so it was a shock when it does sometimes happen.

The last time that I heard Tony with this specific tone, it was 2015, a year ago. I had called to check in, since my Dad didn't respond, which was unusual. That time, like this time, Stark was quick to the point and didn't linger on specifics. I still don't know what happened that day, but as I gathered Tony and my dad (and maybe the others) were deeply disturbed by something and that 'something' caused my dad to go into a full on Hulk Rage.

I still have zero idea on what exactly happened. But something changed, I know that.

Almost on cue, my dad poked his head out of his bedroom, a tired, confused look on his face. He slowly trekked over to us.

"Tony?" He asked in confusion, his eyes squinting for a moment, as if he thought he was imagining Stark standing in front of us. "It's midnight, what the hell are you doing here?"

My Dad's eyes lingered on my presence for a few moments, as if trying to figure out why I was the first to open the door and not him. "Why are you up?"

I gave him a small shrug, it was a common response to his question because if I had a quid for every time he'd caught me like this, I'd be as rich as Stark.

Tony glanced at me for a second, and I took the hint. Avengers stuff, more so the certain device they're working on that confused me into oblivion. In fact, I was pretty sure that the blueprints I had been looking at before Stark started his repeated banging on the door, were about the project my Dad and Tony were working on.

"Alright, alright, I'm going." I huffed silently, my hands up in an almost surrendering mannerism. It was also another one of the common responses: Stark comes over with Avengers stuff, I get that stupid look that tells me I shouldn't be allowed to hear.

If Stark really wanted to talk about this device he and my dad were making, couldn't he call, or text instead of showing up randomly? Asshole. Also, speaking of couldn't he just call, wouldn't it be quicker then driving up here?

I made my way to the kitchen and sat back down where I left my coffee, though it wasn't too far away from the front door, my dad and Tony started talking in quiet enough voices, though I wasn't able to hear anything but the tiny noises of a few words spoken too loud.

I ended up finishing up my coffee during the, seemingly, never ending and hushed conversation my dad and Tony had. At some point, Stark rushed over to the table where I was and practically shooed me away.

With a scoff and a roll of my eyes, I got up from my seat, and picked up my coffee. Of course, my dad noticed my cup of coffee and gave me a look that was meant to silently scolding. I shrugged once more at him with an apologetic smile since I had told him a few weeks back I'd stop drinking coffee to keep me up late.

This time I'd completely moved away from my Dad and Tony, leaving my finished cup of coffee on the kitchen counter and started to walk over to my room. The conversation clearly was going to last a while, and I didn't want to awkwardly stand around as I waited for their 'little' talk to end. I, however, left my door slightly open, that small hint of curiosity getting the better of me. 

Sure, the whole saying of 'curiosity killed the cat' stuck, but that doesn't mean that it necessarily worked. Curiosity is like an addiction, and I'd be damned if it killed me so early on.

Either way, the 'keeping-the-door-slightly-open' thing worked, because as soon as I had left the room, Stark and my Dad started to talk a little louder so that they weren't whispering to one another anymore. They obviously assumed I wasn't going to eavesdrop, because I never had before.

Okay, yeah, fine, I was eavesdropping, but curiosity was eating me alive. After all this time, Dad and Stark couldn't give me the slightest idea as to what this 'device' was? Surely, they were going to know that eventually I was going to get interested in it. Even if I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, or understand the things I did actually hear, I wanted to know what was going on this time.

They were obviously talking about the mystery device the two were working on. The Avengers Stuff. The stuff that I never knew about, but always had a slight urge to ask about it. Though, asking for it or not, I was never told any specifics, my dad didn't want me involved with the Avengers. No matter how small something was.

"What?" It was my Dad, it was the one thing that I could clearly hear, there was a hint of surprise in his tone, maybe even a bit of concern.

Though, just as quick as I heard his voice, both their voices became hushed once more.

I didn't often hear that tone of pure fear in my dad's voice often. Actually, the closest I got to hearing it was when he found out about the time I got in a fight at school. It had almost been the exact same 'what' as the one I had just heard.

I heard a set of footsteps nearing my door, causing me to quickly hurried backwards until the back of my knees hit my bed. I practically fell over the end of my bed and into my bed, trying to quickly pretend I was trying to fall asleep, the loud creak of the bed clearly giving me away.

My Dad slowly opened the door, poking his head in first with a quizzical look on his face, he definitely didn't buy my pretend sleeping.

"Kid," He called, stepping into the room fully. "I have to go to the Avengers' Compound, you gonna be okay?"

I shot up in bed when I heard that, I didn't really want to be left alone again, it was starting to happen way too often. "Can't I come with?"

He stared at me for a few silent moments, but he ended up shaking his head. "I've told you don't want y-"

"Yeah, but I don't want to be home alone for ages again." I huffed, crossing my legs in bed as I looked up at my Dad through the darkness of my room. "Please, I won't get in the way of the 'Avengers' Business' or whatever."

Dad only sighed in response, his head hung low for a couple of mili-seconds, before returning his gaze back to me. "Fine, fine, pack your things, I don't know how long we'll be there for."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

[braveclementine]

After

Warnings: 18+readersonly, heavy angst

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

This is the last one, I promise :) (And it's short)

⛄️🤡 𝓼т𝔬𝓻𝕪 🪑☝️

The memories were more the ones that Penny knew well. Ones she was in and ones that took place while Penny as here. Mostly sexual scenes and also a lot of scenes between her and Bucky while she was pregnant. Now that they all knew the backstory, seeing Bucky and Elizabeth together with no knowledge of each other was bittersweet. 

The scene where Rumlow had taken her and was abusing her was particularly hard to watch. Penny focused on Steve shoving his shield into Rumlow's stomach and finally cutting off his head. It was satisfying to watch, though Penny honestly wished there was more pain that had come with it. 

And the scene where Elizabeth was trying to protect all of her friends, trying to fight off Wanda and Pietros' father was also extremely painful. Her water was trying to cover to much area and not enough of it. 

The water suddenly dropped and Elizabeth looked down to see the trident in her stomach. 

"No!" Trang shouted, but Jay had grabbed her arm, shoving her out the window as bullets flew through the room, taking care of Mai, Ahni, and Jay. Josh cried out and was choked as his flute was shoved through his neck. 

Lan twirled in the air as a bird, becoming human as the knife sliced through his back. He fell, dead too. 

Elizabeth sank down against the wall, hand grasping the length of the trident, her hand shaking as she tried to pull it out of herself. 

Magneto landed softly in front of her, kneeling in front of her. 

"You look like Pietro." Elizabeth choked out and then cried out as Magneto also grabbed the trident, shoving it deeper into her. 

"I am his father." 

"That's a crap Star Wars line." Elizabeth panted weakly. 

Magneto sneered. "Where's Stark?" 

"Like I would tell you." Elizabeth whispered, eyes fluttering, the edges of the memory becoming fuzzy. 

"I think you would, if I promised to let you heal yourself." Magneto said. 

"I would never trade my life for any of theirs." Elizabeth whispered. "Cause I got a second chance. And they don't." 

"I'll just find him myself then." Magneto said, flying off. 

Elizabeth was left alone with her dead friends. She started to sing softly, the song in Russian that she had sung with Bucky when they had walked through the snow. She sung it in short bursts, before her hand fell in the blood and everything went black. 

The memories after that were, once again, familiar. Her trying to regain some sort of ground with the rest of them. But nothing changed. Nothing stuck out or was plot changing until much later. 

Elizabeth was walking into the tower, wearing a sundress. She had Rue in a baby carrier and was humming softly as she walked through the hallway. 

"Excuse me!" It was Sharons' voice and Elizabeth paused in her walking. "I need you to come with me right now." 

"I- Who-" Elizabeth looked confused, "Can I lay my daughter down first?" 

"You can bring her with you." Sharon said. "Pl-" 

"Sharon?" Steve's voice interrupted the conversation and he looked between Sharon and Elizabeth. "What are you doing here? Elizabeth?" 

"Uh, she was just asking me to go with her." Elizabeth said, putting the carrier down, relaxing her arm. Sharon had inched closer to Elizabeth during the conversation. 

Steve frowned. "Why?" 

"Fury needs her." Sharon replied smoothly. 

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Well then I'm going to have words with him because we said Elizabeth wasn't doing missions until she was ready. Unless you are?" Steve questioned Elizabeth. 

"I- I guess?" Elizabeth sounded uncertain. "But why would I bring Rue with me if I was needed for a mission?" 

Steve quickly demanded in his Captain voice, "Elizabeth, come here sweetheart." 

Sharon reacted faster, pulling a knife to Elizabeth's neck and Steve took a step forwards. "God Steve you haven't changed a bit." 

"I don't get it." Steve said, "You always stood against HYDRA before. What changed?" 

"You did." Sharon shook her head. "You left. So I needed to get rid of the others." 

Steve's jaw set harshly. "Sharon just let her go. She hasn't done anythi-" 

"She's taking my spot by your side." Sharon snarled. "I was the one you loved, Steve. And it could still be that way. She took you from me, telling you stories about a child that you didn't need to know about. And you just left like our years of being together meant nothing to you." 

"They did mean something." Steve snapped. "I'm not the one that killed our child!" 

Elizabeth cried out as Sharon pressed the knife to tightly against her throat and blood started to trickle down her throat. Steve immediately took another step forwards and Sharon pressed the knife harder against her neck. More blood trickled down from the cut and Elizabeth made another cry of pain.  

"Back off Steve." 

Steve took a step back. 

"We could run away Steve." Sharon said softly, imploring him. "You can forget it all. Bucky, Sam, this bitch, Penny. We can be happy together. Me and you. No responsibilities, just love and happiness. Or. . . you can take a pill and you forget that I'm the spy. I'll let her go and everything works out." 

The muscles in Steve's jaw twitched. Sharon pulled a gun out with her other hand, pointing it at the baby carrier. Steve's eyes followed it, his eyes becoming angry. 

"Or, I slice her throat and shoot the baby and then you can kill me." Sharon hissed. "And then you can tell Bucky that the girl that he loved in HYDRA and you failed to save when she begged for help, captive in a HYDRA base, and his daughter, are dead. But at least you got to me." 

"She's 'doll'?" Steve whispered, looking into Elizabeth's eyes and then he closed his own eyes. "Where's the pill?" 

Sharon sighed, kicking the pill over to him and Steve grabbed it. "You better keep your promise." Steve said, before taking the pill and falling unconscious. Sharon huffed, shoving the gun back into her pocket and sheaved the knife. "Naïve fool." 

"My water-" 

"It's a dampener effect." Sharon answered, "Prevents you from using your powers." 

Suddenly, the elevator door dinged down the hallway, Bruce stepping out, looking down at papers in his hands. Sharon cursed, shoving a pill down Elizabeth's throat and ran off as she blacked out. 

In the next one, Sharon and Elizabeth were walking along the forest. Elizabeth seemed wary and Sharon was calling out some name that sounded like it belonged to a dog. 

Suddenly, Rhodey came out of the forest, earbuds in his ears, clearly having been running along the trail, his braces whirring and the lights on them were red. He came to a walk, pulling the earbuds out. "Elizabeth? Sharon? What an unlikely. . . uh." 

"We're looking for her lost dog." Elizabeth said, moving deeper into the forest. 

Rhodey gave a confused look after her and then looked at Sharon, "Since when do you like dogs?" 

"I can change." Sharon muttered, pushing past Rhodey after Elizabeth. Rhodey's eyebrows furrowed and then he lunged at Sharon, knocking her into the trees. The two of them wrestled on the ground until Rhodey had pinned her down. 

"Rhodey?" Elizabeth burst back through the growth, looking concerned. "What are you doing?" 

"Elizabeth go back up to the tower." Rhodey grunted as Sharon continued to fight back. "Get the othe-" 

Sharon slammed his head against the tree and Rhodey cried out. Sharon undid his brace, pulling if off his leg, smacking him across the face with it. Elizabeth started to run and Sharon quickly pressed a button on something. Elizabeth and Rhodey both soon had blood leaking out of their ears, both of them paralyzed. 

"Thank Tony for that." Sharon snarled, getting to her feet, tossing the brace back down by Rhodey's body, grabbing Elizabeth's leg to start dragging her through the forest. 

But suddenly, Tony's voice started shouting through the air. "RHODES! Where are you?" 

"Fucking Stark." Sharon snarled, leaving Elizabeth where she was, hurrying and shoving Rhodey's brace back around his leg. 

"JAMES!" Tony's voice sounded fearful. 

They heard Stephen's voice join, "What happened?" 

"The heart monitor spiked to high. I think he had a heart attack." Tony's voice was shaking. "JAAMES!" 

"Isn't that cute." Sharon snarled, "He's got a little tracker on you like a dog. Just adorable." She shoved the pill into his mouth and then Elizabeth's, blacking out once more. 

There were more scenes of just the family being together, including lots of scenes from the beach. And then when they were back from the tower, the memory showed Sharon and Elizabeth already wrestling in a backroom. 

Suddenly, Sharon was tackled by Clint. "Go!" Clint shouted, wrapping an arm around Sharon's neck. Elizabeth stayed this time, helping Clint pin Sharon down, panting. 

Elizabeth hollered as Sharon stabbed her in the stomach, falling backwards. "Little bird!" Clint cried out, trying to strangle Sharon. 

Elizabeth gasped in pain, panic clear in her eyes as she couldn't call for her powers, "C-Clint." 

Clint huffed, slamming Sharons' head against the floor and she became unconscious. But as Clint moved quickly to Elizabeth, Sharons' eyes opened and looked over. Clint put pressure on the wound. "It's okay. You stay with me now Little bird. What floor is this?" 

"Sixty- two." Elizabeth whispered. 

Clint look over his shoulder towards the door. "PIETRO!" He screamed as loudly as he could. "PIETRO GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!" 

They heard something crashing down in the hallway. But Sharon had grabbed Clint, forcing a pill into his mouth, stabbing him at the same time. Clint tried spitting it out, but she choked him until he had swallowed it, stabbing him again, and everything went black for Elizabeth. 

Most of the memories after that were, once again, Elizabeth and the others. A lot of them with her children too. 

Until Sharon and her were walking up a staircase, which led to the roof. They watched the entire thing play out again, watching her father and Loki and all of it. 

Then there was Steve, standing in front of Sharon. Bucky had Steve's shield in his hands and he threw it at Sharon while Sam kept his arms around Elizabeth. Steve caught the shield, cutting off Sharon's head himself. 

Penny noticed a lot of memories after that were of the super soldiers and her. Her dress phase and then the Christmas party. Then the visions faded and Wanda removed her hand, taking a few steps back and collapsing into Vision. 

It was silent in the room as everyone took in everything they had just seen. There were lots of red eyes, especially with Bucky and Steve and her friends. 

"Wow." Scott finally said, putting his head in his hands. 

Hogun stood up suddenly, staring to pace the room too, looking thoughtful. A lot of them looked lost in thought. Clint kept one hand tight on Bucky, but his other hand was playing with the sling ring. 

"Bucky?" Wanda asked softly. "Do you. . ." 

"I remember." Bucky said hoarsely. "I remember everything now. Something. . . something triggered around the last memories. I remember all of it. I remember her." 

Elizabeth's eyes started to flutter and Penny hugged Steve tighter, wondering how she would react. 

And then they opened. 

[see-the-divine]

Fic Rec Masterlist

Note: Check the rules of each blog before reading please!! Enjoy 💗

TikToks

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

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[callsignnova]

Carry You Home

Summary: Willow trades 20 years of her life to have 20 more years with Pietro, but does death ever truly play fair?

Part 1 of ?

Fic under the cut. Warnings: Death, mentions of death, mild angst, fluff, and later on there will be more mature themes. MDNI.

The sunlight peeked through the thin curtains, dancing off of her dark hair and pale skin. Pietro watched her, smiling to himself. They’d met through a mission, finding her in Sokovia. She was an American, hiding in his home country from her government until she could be pardoned for saving the lives of many Avengers themselves that day. A noble act by the government’s standards and one that let her come home. He didn’t even ask her what she did, it didn’t feel right when he owed her because one of the people she saved was him.

Willow Marie Whitlock was the name her mother gave her, mostly because she was born under a weeping willow tree because her mother was very late on getting to the hospital. Unfortunately, this was why her mother died in childbirth but Willow was found by kind strangers who had to protect her at all costs when they realized at the age of 13, Willow was no ordinary child.

They call her sinistru in Sokovia, because they consider her a devil or a grim reaper of sorts due to her mutation that allows her to give life and take it away. Willow seemed like she could hear a voice telling her when it was time to do one or the other but she wouldn’t talk about it, not even with Pietro when she explained herself. She also didn’t tell him she ignored the voice the day she brought him back to life or that he was her first human.

Everything happened so fast that day, a memory that would replay in her sleep sometimes.

“It’s just a bad dream…” she would say, not going into detail. She felt bad omitting the truth to the man who was possibly the love of her life. He already knew, it was obvious it weighed heavy on her but he wouldn’t bring it up. Not if she wouldn’t.

They hadn’t even been dating yet at this point. They’d been friends, on a mission together, and Willow was the only person Pietro seemed to really trust outside of Wanda.

“You seem nervous.” He remarked

“I’m always nervous.” She reminded him, a slight smile.

They all wanted to stop Ultron, not knowing the prices they’d all pay for doing so.

“Before we go down there, there’s something I want to tell you…” she started, but they were interrupted by Wanda.

Always interrupted by Wanda. It wouldn’t usually annoy Willow but she felt like Pietro should know that she loved him, that she had fallen in love with him from all of the time they’d spent together up to this point, and she couldn’t help the disappointment across her face as she turned away. It made Pietro quirk and eyebrow at her but then pay attention to Wanda. They’d always only had each other, she couldn’t fault him for putting his sister first and never would.

When Wanda faltered, when she looked in shock, something in Willow knew and took off to find him. Hawkeye was there, holding a child and looking stunned himself. The air nearly left her lungs as she saw him there and heard him utter his last words, “you didn’t see that coming.”

Willow moved to catch him as the silent pleas and bargains began. Take me instead, let him live. Let him live for Wanda, take me instead. The tears were hot as they fell, her hands stroking his hair. Please Death, please.

“I still need you.”

“She needs him…”

“If I let him live, it will destroy the natural balance.”

“Take years off of my life.”

Willow closed her eyes and maneuvered him so he was face up now. Death contemplated, taking 20 off of her life to give him 20 more before telling her to go ahead. Willow kissed him, the tears still falling as her heart hammered in his chest.

“Let him live.”

He gasped against her lips, sitting up as she pulled away. More tears fell as she cupped his face, he cupped her cheek with one of his hands and pulled her in for another kiss. There were questions about what happened but Wanda knew it had to do with Willow, hugging her tightly when they returned.

20 years for 20 years.

Blue eyes focused on his face as they fluttered open, a smile that would greet him with a gentle kiss every morning they woke up together. Sometimes the kiss would turn passionate and into something else, other times it would be them snuggling closer. This morning they were up, making breakfast together in their shared kitchen area with Wanda and Vision.

The others were out right now, leaving them alone. Pancake batter was smeared against her cheek, resulting in her returning the favor across his forehead and kissing him deeply.

“Iutbit, we should get married.”

That made Willow freeze up for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I’m serious.” He said, “Willow Marie, will you marry me?”

He then held one finger up and dashed off to their shared room before coming back on one knee with a ring. He slid it onto her finger as she said yes, wrapping her arms around him in a hug now. 20 more years with him could be long enough.

[sebsbarnes]

phantom pain || pietro maximoff

pietro maximoff x reader

summary: i'm jealous of the rain that falls upon your skin, it's closer than my hands have been

warnings: insecurities, none really?? (i think)

word count: 2.9k+ ; angst, comfort

masterlist

a/n: this is a rewrite of a bucky fic i wrote 6 years ago but now much longer, better, and for pietro. sorry for grammar/editing mistakes that are prob here but still enjoy

pietro knew you had been hiding something. he had known you for three years and had been dating you for almost two. over the course of the months and weeks spent with the other he had grown accustomed to your silent cues. the silence that would consume you when tony's party carried on too late and you desperately wished to exit or when you performed poorly during training and steve berated you with tips. but mostly the silence that would linger around you when you were alone. not all the time, no, but there were times when pietro could feel and see the physical shift in your body language.

he never wanted to pry not as a friend or a boyfriend. pietro understood that every avenger has a past life, one that the others are unaware of. though he loved playing back the memories of his childhood and his parents, he too would shift into a silent shell of a person and he would want nothing more than to be left alone and not questioned. pietro loved the abilities he had but some days he wondered whether the extreme heat of his body or the slow-moving world around him actually made him sad. life was no longer normal, his body was no longer normal, nothing was normal.

this is exactly how you felt. the tragedies in your life were sometimes unbearable and if you could disappear you would but you had so much to be thankful for. if it wasn't for the accident you wouldn't be an avenger, you wouldn't have the friends you have, you wouldn't experience even half of what you've had now, and you wouldn't have pietro, the love of your life. at the end of the day you were alive and more than often, incredibly happy.

but there were those times you fell into silence over your newfound life, mainly the consequences of the accident. your memory still struggled, you were weak for a very long time, and when the weather got too cold you could feel the ache in your bones. you weren't like the rest of the avengers who possessed special abilities or were highly skilled in combat. three and a half years ago you were a normal person. you had a normal life, job, family, and friends, up until the accident. and every day the phantom pain reminds you of what was taken.

it was winter when you first met all the avengers. they all lived together and after you recovered from the accident, tony wanted you here, to live here. you protested the idea for a while claiming that tony's generosity was far too much. he had already saved you from the accident and offering a space to live and a job was incredulous, but after much debate you agreed. that first day you silently sat in the corner of the room while all the avengers had a meeting. you swayed back and forth in the rolling chair, taking in the information and occasionally stealing glances at a silver-haired man.

"and this is (y/n)!," tony exclaimed, "our newest friend here so please for the love of god be kind during the acclamation period. i'm already prematurely greying and i don't need anymore."

the meeting was over and one by one the avengers came to greet you, offering their names and welcomes and soon the silver-haired man approached you.

pietro stuck his hand out to shake yours. he found it odd that despite the room being almost swelteringly hot from the heater, you still had your gloves on.

"i'm pietro."

it was about three weeks later you found yourself sitting with pietro, clint, steve, and natasha. everyone was sitting on the couch talking about whatever topic you possibly could conjure up. there was a lull in conversation before clint spoke up.

"hey," he said turning towards you, "why do you have gloves on?"

it was as if clint never spoke and without missing a beat you stood up, looking down at pietro, "wanna help me finish building my desk?"

pietro hesitated a moment, eyes flickering over to clint, "of course."

pietro had come to learn not to question why you covered your hands in those first few months. any mention of you hiding them was never met with an answer. he was protective of you and he felt himself falling for you each day, and you the same. the two of you did a lot together, you cooked, clean, went out, watched movies, almost everything together and you loved it. it felt like home here and pietro felt like home.

it was a big dinner, the night you finally took your gloves off. there was no special reason why, to be frank, you just decided to no longer be embarrassed.

"c'mon kid we all got something weird about us. i play in a suit all day, cap runs around in tights, pietro is faster than the speed of light, and parker shoots webs... from his hands!" tony ranted on.

you sighed, "i know. i just feel weird on top of this because i am still new here."

"we all have been new," tony started, inspecting your hands one final time, "no one will judge you, kid, but take it at your own pace. you don't owe anyone nothing. well, maybe except me," he winked.

only two hours later you were all seated at the big table with everyone to eat. from tony, to pietro, to thor, to natasha, to sam, everyone was here. next to you was tony and rhodey, pietro across from you pulling funny faces while the food was served out. you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap trying to stall picking up the fork and knife. everyone had started eating and chatting amongst the group when you finally lifted your arms to the table and started cutting into the chicken.

pietro watched as you shifted in your seat, your forearms coming to rest on the white cloth and your fingers wrapping around the fork and knife. the first time he has ever seen your hands.

your metal hands.

after that night there were murmurs throughout the crew about the state of your hands. people were confused why someone who led a normal life ended up with metal hands, similar to bucky's arm. the word accident had floated through the air but you never commented on it.

winter had turned into spring that ended all too quickly and now it was the dead of summer. the day was slow and pietro was bored and craving movement. his head was hanging over the arm of the couch, his silver hair hung to the floor.

"want to get ice cream?" he asked.

"it's like you read my mind," you grinned swiping your wallet off the counter.

you and pietro wandered around town aimlessly before stopping at the ice cream shop. he admired the way you threw your head back in laughter and the way you covered your mouth when he said something outlandish. even though pietro's body ran warm he could feel the increasing heat spread throughout his cheeks each time you shot him a smile and his name rolled off your lips.

in an instant, he thought he ruined it all when he reached out and wrapped his fingers in yours. he felt your fingers twitching and the way you misstepped.

"i'm sorry," accent thick as he retracted his hand.

you smiled softly at him before gently grabbing his hand, "don't be."

it was that day over a hot fudge sundae that you told pietro what had happened. it was a horrible car accident early in the winter before you met the avengers. there were several cars and buses involved. not only did you lose your hands that day but your family. tony was also in this accident, his car had actually collided with yours, though his vehicle wasn't the one that caused your injuries. he had rushed to help you and immediately took on a parental role when he observed the condition of everyone else in the car. you were bruised and bloody with several fractured bones, but mainly, every bone in both your hands were shattered beyond repair. tony took you to his doctors where you all came to the difficult decision that your hands had to go, but tony offered you a solution. to replace the once skin and bones with metal.

pietro listened the entire time letting you go on and on to which you apologized for being boring. 'no dragă' he would whisper and you continued on with his thumb running over your knuckles. the gesture comforted you but the voice in the back of your head nagged that it was out of pity.

the months began to fly past faster than you could imagine. you and pietro were inseparable. anytime the members walked past the two of you they'd fake gag or pretend to cry. once wanda had muttered under her breath how she never thought pietro would actually date someone. you would only get shy over it and pietro found it amusing and would pinch at your cheeks. it was only when the two of you officially started dating when pietro would notice the different type of silence you'd fall into.

he would sometimes catch you sitting on the edge of your bed staring at your hands the features on your face contorted with disgust.

"what is the matter?" he questioned.

"oh nothing," you sighed with a fake smile, placing your hands beside you.

or the times pietro noticed the way you hesitated before touching him.

"am i that scary dragă?" pietro joked with a sickly smile.

your features would soften and the lines between your brows disappeared, "the most terrifying," you winked.

or the times pietro saw the way you gazed at other people's hands when they came into contact with pietro.

"doesn't his hair look good like this?" wanda asked you as she finished braiding her brother's hair. the two of them looking at you in the mirror.

you didn't respond right away. you were too distracted watching the way her fingers weaved their way through his silver hair and grazed his scalp while pulling hair into its pattern. with the most pitiful smile, you responded.

"amazing."

pietro knew that eventually, you would confide in him over the way you viewed your hands. he didn't want to overstep, that wasn't the relationship the two of you had. the late nights pietro spent shaking under the blankets from nightmares, you never asked him. you held him close to you and hummed a small tune to calm him down and you did that every night without fail. one day over breakfast he finally confided in you over the terrors that haunted his dreams.

what pietro didn't expect was that today on your second anniversary was the day you would finally scream your frustrations out. the two of you weren't doing anything special and nor did you want to. all the avengers insisted you at least leave home and do something for a little while. that's why you found yourselves lazily walking around a park, hand-in-hand, arms swinging and shoulders bumping. the sound of laughter echoed through the park and you swore the leaves shook. you were happy, beyond happy. pietro and you were madly in love and there wasn't one thing you could wish for, maybe.

suddenly the wind picked up and the dark clouds rolled above and unleashed raindrops that were nearly the size of baseballs.

"oh my god!" you squealed.

"it is so cold!" pietro laughed loudly.

you were squinting through the pouring rain, your hair and clothes plastered to your skin, pietro was dancing around in a circle with his tongue out in hopes of catching the water. pietro grabbed onto your forearms pulling you into him.

"you look so cute right now," he yelled over the thunderous rain.

"don't be silly! i look like a mess!" you giggled slightly swatting at his chest.

pietro leaned in and kissed you on the cheek. his smile growing wider as if his mouth was a plant and the rain was helping it grow. his fingers brushed the hair out of your face and kissed you once more on the forehead.

"there's so many droplets on your lashes!" you exclaimed. pietro watched your lips pull into a smile. the sun wasn't out but he could've been fooled by the way your eyes shined at him. he watched as you lifted your hand to brush the droplets off, and then suddenly, it all changed.

pietro watched as your smile dropped into parted lips of disgust and shame, your eyebrows pulled together in the middle, and rain was no longer the only thing running down your face. you faltered in your step backward and pietro reached out to steady you but you pulled back further. it was like you were a toy and your batteries had just run out you were so still.

"b-baby what is wrong?" the worried etched onto his face was almost painful.

"i'm jealous," you cried, your bottom lip shaking violently.

pietro shook his head, "my love what is going on? you are worrying me."

you lifted your hands in front of your face, your eyes trailed down every finger and across your palm to the back of your hand. the small metal panels almost mocking you as you could see your eyes reflect back at you. at this moment pietro started to piece together all the instances in the past.

"i can't feel you," you wallowed, "i can't feel your skin, pietro. my hands!" he watched as you stretched your arms out to show him your hands as if he'd never seen them before.

"i'm envious of everything that can feel you! the rain, your clothes, everyone else, but not me, i can't! do you know how badly i want to feel the texture of your hair or the tears you cry or-or the skin on your lips and i can't! i crave the feeling of you and i'll never get to know that. i want to feel the plastic of a pen or grass between my fingers or the calluses of training too hard and i'll never get that again. the phantom pain i have will never be as painful as never being able to hold you with my real hands."

as your cries grew louder the storm cleared up to let you have the stage. you stood in front of pietro as the shell of the person he would see those times you were alone silently observing your hands. even though he wasn't the one yelling, he felt as if his own vocal chords were being shredded, he could feel the chambers in his heart slowly start to shut down one by one, and the burn in his eyes was almost blinding.

he slowly stepped towards you cautious not to make you jerk backwards again. the tears in each of your eyes seemed to sync up and roll down together. pietro gently grabbed your hand, grateful that you let him, and held it to his cheek.

"this, my love, this is me. this is the me that only you will know and no one else. it is not the same as everyone else but different much like us," he said gently, his other hand gesturing between your bodies, "if i could do anything in the world, no matter the cost, to help with your hands i would and i am so sorry i cannot," pietro was now holding your face in his hands.

"but i want you to know i love you for everything that you are and i always will. no matter what the future has in store for us, in my heart, you will always be first. and- and i know there are other reasons why you dislike your hands but i never want to be the reason that you dislike something about yourself. maybe i can talk to mr. stark, yeah?" he pondered nodding his head rapidly, "maybe we can figure something out and give your hands an upgrade. maybe he knows someone?"

you sniffled, looking lovingly at pietro who was trying to think of any possibility even though you both had discussed in the past that there was nothing that could be done for your hands. that day tony saved you was the best opportunity you could get to help your hands and nothing in the world could beat it.

"i love you so much pietro, you are everything i could ask for in a boyfriend and more," you spoke, resting your face further into his hands.

pietro ran his hands across your shoulders and down your arms to hold onto your wrists. he brought your hand up to his face and placed a delicate kiss to your fingertips until all ten were loved. pietro pulled you into a hug, one palm resting flat against your spine and the other holding the back of your head. you leaned into his chest and let your ear listen to the thump of his heart. the two of you stood there motionless. minutes passed by and neither of you dared to move. to an unobservant eye, you two could've passed as a statue. two lovers forever memorialized in the dusk of the sky, the rain puddles collecting at your feet, and a love story forever admired over.

[juliaswickcrs]

ROLE SWAP AU :: SOPHIE WARNER & PIETRO MAXIMOFF ↳ ( oc halloween challenge, day six )

in April 2013, a bomb went off in NOVI GRAD, SOKOVIA. HYDRA got there first in hopes of destabilizing the country. Instead, they found a wealth of potential experimental subjects. Over two years HYDRA saw varied results, with some dead and others driven mad. But eventually they saw results. An American had survived the trials. An American had been brought back to life. Two of the teenagers hit in the blast were found to have unlocked genetic potential, making them targets for General Dreykov's Red Room. Two years in captivity made them hardened killers, bred to be a new kind of weapon the world was not ready for. In May of 2015, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff are assigned a mission to infiltrate a HYDRA base near their former home and destroy it. They would never return to the Red Room. In May of 2015, Sophie Warner is brought back to life with the power of the Mind Stone within Loki’s Scepter. When she wakes, a boy with white hair stares down at her with his hand positioned over her heart. It would be many years before she saw Death again.

taglist: @bisexualterror @foxesandmagic @iron-parkr @camiemendess @a-song-of-quill-and-feather

@arrthurpendragon @starcrossedjedis @drbobbimorse @kingsmakers @noratilney

@stanshollaand @astarionbae @darth-caillic @mystic-scripture @aliverse

@misshiraethsworld @asirensrage @eddiemunscns

@princessmadelines @impales @waterloou @thatmagickjuju

MARVEL TAGLIST: @notxjustxstories @themaradwrites

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 37. It's time to go

Previous chapter

Masterlist

I can't tell you how much Nadia means to me <3 I'm so excited to share what's to come with you!

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: a whole lotta angst, hurt no comfort, Nadia & Pietro,

By the time I’d returned home, New York had begun following in Vienna’s footsteps, the warmth of spring rearing its head as the last of the snow melted away.

In the light of day everything looked different.

The compound was eerily silent, my swift footsteps seeming raucous against the immense quiet. Beneath my bed, within an unassuming cardboard box that lay behind other various bits and pieces was a black duffle bag. Inside was a selection of passports, fake documentation, cash, a burner phone and a few items for disguise. Perhaps there was one positive to my tumultuous childhood, I was always prepared. This go-bag was my perfected kit, containing everything I needed to disappear. I quickly shed my outfit, changing into jeans, a plain white top and my brown leather jacket, unassuming and easy to ditch later. I grabbed the gun I had hidden beneath my pillow and one of the ones held in the back of my closet, sliding one into the back of my jeans and jamming the other into my bag along with some ammo. When I had what I needed I slung the bag across my body and began toward the door, though I paused beside my nightstand, glancing down at the frame sitting there. A picture of Natasha and I that she’d framed for me.

What’s more you than your own face?

I smiled at the recollection, pulling the photo out and stowing it away along with one other picture that had been in the drawer. When I was done, I forced myself to keep going. I only had one last order of business at the compound, and I needed to get moving because it wouldn’t be long before Ross and co. arrived. My stomach turned as I stepped into Pietro’s room, chest tightening as I glanced over his haphazardly made bed; his worn-out sneakers, I walked passed all of it, ignoring the familiar smell of his cologne and the memories that hit me from being in here. Shoving aside the clothes in his closet I quickly found the files I was looking for, all of the notes and communications, everything linking him to Hydra and slid them under my arm. I made quick work of moving to the office and putting every page contained in the folders through the paper shredder. Again and again, I watched the paper turn into ribbons of white, the letters muddled and cut and unintelligible. When it was all shredded, I opened the lid of the machine and shred it even further by hand, making sure there was no way to read what had been there. I tore the bits of paper until there was nothing left of Pietro’s agreement with Hydra.

Pietro and Wanda were pardoned by the government for their part in Ultron’s crimes because they switched sides and helped save a lot of lives. If the United States government found out that he’d been colluding with what was considered a terrorist organization, they would not be so quick to forgive. I wasn’t sure that being Avengers would protect them from the consequences of that.

My phone had not stopped buzzing since I arrived, I pulled it from my pocket quickly seeing dozens of messages and calls from Anna and a bunch of unfamiliar numbers. At the very top sat a missed call from Nick Fury as well as a voicemail notification. I pressed play as I finished destroying the documents.

“Nadia, I know that you’re all a little busy down there at the moment, so I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important. You’ve told me many times to leave the past where it belongs, but basically, I didn’t listen. People tell me I have trouble letting things go, anyway, I kept digging into your past and… just call me back as soon as possible.”

Nick had a flare for the dramatic, though, I’d never heard him sound like this before. He spoke quickly, disbelief intertwined within each word. My finger hovered over his contact but then I glanced at the clock and hesitated, I’d been here too long already and no doubt my phone would be under surveillance, the second I made a call Ross would know my location. Whatever Fury wanted to tell me would have to wait.

I finally left the compound then. Destroying the evidence was the last order of business I had there, the last thing I needed to do. My last endeavor to protect Pietro Maximoff. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

From there I headed straight to the location I’d arranged with my contact; before I arrived at the private airstrip I ditched my phone on a bus heading into the city. In an hour when the vehicle reached the outskirts of New York City a scheduled text message would be sent from my phone pinging its location.

The message was to Anna, and it contained only one word:

Red.

It was a codeword we’d decided on years ago, simply put, it meant that there was trouble and whatever device that had sent the message was compromised. I trusted that this message along with what she’d inevitably find out had happened at the airport would be enough context for her.  

I’d thought about escape just about every day for the last 20 years. In every room I entered I mapped out every possible exit and had a plan for how I would get to it. My mind was always calculating, formulating a plan. Call is self-preservation or a survival instinct, whatever it was it had ingrained itself into the very fabric of my being. The problem was that I’d gotten too comfortable, not just at the compound but in my relationships, my friendships, my daily routines. I’d begun to let my guard dwindle. I’d allowed myself to trust and be trusted and most importantly I stopped scoping out every possible escape route. So, now, this is what I’m left with. This contact of Natasha’s that had me meet him in an old private airfield just outside the city.

“Nadia, I’m guessing?” The man offered me a brief wave as he stepped in front of me. “I’m Rick, we spoke earlier.”

I glanced down at his outstretched hand, a moment of silence passing between us before I slowly accepted it, shaking once before letting go. Thankful for the motorcycle gloves he wore, unsure I could bear any further human contact right now.

“Thank you for meeting me, did you get what I asked for?”

He tilted his head side to side, gesturing for me to follow him as he began an old rusty hangar. “So, given the time constraints I was a little strapped for resources, but I got you a short-term solution while we work on the long term one.” He pushed the large metal doors open to reveal a tiny little plane.

“Cute.”

He nodded. “Very cute, it’s a Cirrus SR22, it’ll get you to The Bahamas but no further so no dawdling. I’ve got you’re landing coordinates all mapped out, you’ll land in another private airstrip that’s expecting you. The guy you’re meeting there is a friend of mine, he won’t give you any trouble. You already know the rest and I’ll be in touch when I’ve got another next safe house for you.”

I caught the keys he threw to me, stowing them in my pocket as I threw my duffle into the back of the plane. “Thank you, really.”

He just nodded again. “It’s all good, I owe Natasha, any friend of hers is good people in my book.” I smiled at that, though hearing her name worsened the ache in my chest. “Hey, you know it’s pretty hot on you right now in the city, you must’ve really pissed some important people off.”

I swallowed heavily, pulling the door to the plane open before turning back to face him. “Pretty much, but it’s not the first time and it probably won’t be the last.”

He laughed at that. “Fly safe, seriously though, head straight to those coordinates or that thing will burn out.” Was the last thing he said to me. I raised an eyebrow at him, glancing back at the plane over my shoulder.

“Good to know.” I mumbled, climbing aboard.

For the next 4 hours I replayed all of the events from the last few days. What Barnes had said about the lab in Serbia where I’d been kept and the one in Siberia where those other super soldiers remained on ice, waiting to be activated. I thought of the hurt on Pietro’s face as I stepped over that line and the feeling of that Beam from Tony’s suit hitting me right in the chest; the searing agony that had nothing to do with the burst of light and everything to do with the look in his eyes.

…

It was night when I landed in the private airstrip in Nassau. A man with long dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail was there to greet me as I stepped out of the plane.

“I’m Alby, you must be Rick’s friend?”

 “Yes.” I nodded, slinging the duffle bag over my shoulder. He tossed me a set of two keys, one for a house and the other I assumed was for a car but then Alby gestured behind me to a light blue moped.

I sighed heavily, too exhausted to argue. With a thank you to the man before me, I tightened the strap of my duffle bag and climbed onto the bike, sliding the helmet on. Rick had already told me the address of the safehouse and there was a map in my bag. Before driving to the place, I’d be staying I stopped at a local pharmacy and grocery store to grab a few things I’d need.

The little cottage Rick had given me the address for was lemon yellow, but I paid no mind to its exterior as I slipped inside, immediately shutting all of the curtains and securing all the windows and doors. When I was satisfied that the house was secure, I laid my supplies out.

I took a bite of an apple that I bought, holding it between my teeth as I mixed the hair dye in a small plastic bowl. As I ran the brush over each strand of my hair Pietro’s voice was in my head. I thought of that night in New York all those months ago when he’d told me he wanted to be my boyfriend. I thought of lying in the grass with him in Central Park, the sun pressing into our flesh. He had tried so hard for so long to get my attention, to get me to admit that I felt something for him, no matter how hard I’d pushed him away, how mean I was to him. He’d been infuriatingly resolute in his efforts. I wondered if he regretted it all now; I wouldn’t blame him. My stomach sunk at the thought. I had tried… hadn’t I. Tried to keep this all together, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want it to end this way. Even when I knew what he’d done, what he’d told Hydra, I’d still held onto him, when I felt him slipping after Lagos I held on tighter. I thought of what he’d said to me at the airstrip.

This is bad, Nadia, even for you.

Because I am bad, that is what he’d meant.

I wondered if he’d thought that all along or if it had merely grown. I supposed it didn’t really matter.

I wasn’t trying to be bad. I didn’t want to be bad. I had tried not to be.

Wasn’t this the right choice? I couldn’t have lived with the other choice, that was what Steve had said and he was right. I couldn’t have lived with it if the accords stopped us from helping people who needed it.

I thought of Rhoadey plummeting down toward the ground. Was he even, okay? I hadn’t had the chance to find out. The burning sensation in the center of my chest had not ceased for even a moment, I swore I could still feel the beam of energy hitting me, over and over again.

I wiped the tears from my face, and only then did I realize how shaky my hands were. When my hair was covered in the dark liquid I dabbed it onto my eyebrows as well. I couldn’t escape the thoughts darting around in my mind, not just of Pietro but Barnes as well. The things he’d told me clung to my skin. There were pieces of me that I remember, many little pieces that had come back to me and yet the time spent in Serbia was practically non-existent in my mind. I supposed it should not be so shocking to me, to not remember a chunk of my life. Then I thought of the white room where I was strapped down to a chair while the ballet played, I wondered if that all happened at the Hydra base where Barnes and I first met. It was incredibly frustrating to feel so disconnected from the memory, to have such an unyielding blind spot in my mind.

Dark water pooled around the drain as I rinsed my hair absentmindedly watching the spirals of diluted color.

It was warm here, humidity pressing into my flesh the moment I’d stepped off of the plane. I had barely even noticed. In New York the air was still a little chilly even as winter gave into spring. I wondered if the warmth of Nassau could thaw the icy cold that was pressing into my chest, but I decided it was unlikely.

I looked into my own eyes in the mirror as I towel dried my hair, now at least my appearance matched how I felt; nothing like me. When I was done, I dressed in the pajamas that I’d found folded neatly in a set of drawers then I slid beneath the covers and pulled the duvet up to my chin, ignoring the discomfort of laying on my back. There was a prevailing silence in the room that unsettled me as I stared up at the ceiling that was only just visible thanks to the slither of moonlight that crept in through the window. After a long while of suffocating silence I turned onto my side and pulled the duvet over my head.

For a week I remained within the lemon-yellow walls, never drawing the curtains open to let the sun touch my skin, never breathing the fresh sea breeze, only drifting aimlessly around the bedroom like a ghost or laying, shrouded in the darkness of the duvet, replaying the day in at the airport, again and again. Rhoadey falling hitting the ground, Tony aiming his glove at me, the look on his face, Pietro’s voice.

“Go on then, hurt me.” 

The cupboards were stocked with non-perishables that I occasionally ventured into the kitchen for, though hunger wasn’t much of an issue when I’d become so sluggish.

On my 8th day in Nassau, I ventured into the sitting room. I ran the tip of my finger over the spines of the few books haphazardly strewn across the small side table, blowing the dust from my finger when I pulled it back. I opened and closed my burner phone a few times, checking for any new messages from Rick. There was nothing, every single time. I paced the floor in front of the couch and when that didn’t quiet my mind, I turned on the television, sitting down when I saw a picture of my face pop up. Natasha’s picture came after causing me to still, she’d switched sides too. I wondered where she was now, she must have evaded Ross if they’d listed her as a fugitive. Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott hadn’t been so lucky I guess since they weren’t mentioned. I stared at my picture in the corner of the screen for a long moment before promptly switching the TV off and standing up and making my way to the kitchen and yanking various drawers open to rifle around until I found what I was searching for. When my fingertips dragged over the cold metal I pulled the scissors from the drawer, making my way to the bathroom. For the first time in days my head was clear, the sound of snipping the only one filling the room. Dark brown locks fell to the floor around my feet.

When the ends of my hair barely brushed my shoulders, I dropped the scissors into the sink and then I left the house for the first time in over a week. The sun nearly blinded me as I stepped out, immediately putting my hand up to shield my eyes. The sound of the ocean filled my ears, salty air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath. I lingered on the front step for a while, eyes closed, head tilted back as the warmth bathed over me. It was like the sway of the waves called to me, lured me closer, down the steps, through the gate and toward the shoreline

The feeling of the sand between my toes, the waves crashing against one another, it all melded together in my mind. Soft fingertips tapped my cheeks, my nose, dusted curls from my eyes. The sun was setting, casting a perfect reddish pink light over everything. My back was propped against a pair of legs that rocked me back and forth, my hands held by someone else’s. Humming filled my ears followed by the smooth melody of a familiar voice.

“The monsters gone, he’s on the run and your mommy’s here.” She sang to me, tugging my hands along to sway. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl.” She pressed a feather light kiss to my nose causing me to giggle. The reaction caused her to press a flurry of kisses all over my face. I managed to wriggle out of her grip, running along the sand as she called after me between her own laughs. A glance over my shoulder revealed her to me, or at least a glimpse of her, a phantom of blonde hair and warm smiles. She made grabby hands at me as she reached out, calling out again and again but I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. It took me a moment to realize she was addressing me by a name that was inaudible to my ears; it came out jumbles and incoherent.

I tried to hold onto the memory, to stop and listen a little closer, to really hear what she was saying but the harder I tried the more distant it became.

“No, no, no.” I murmured as the moment dissipated into nothingness.

I fell backward into the sand, gripping it in my fist and then releasing it as I laid back on the warm sediment. Staring up at the endless blue above, an abyss of sunny days that seemed to taunt me, laugh at my solitude.

“Close your eyes; have no fear, the monsters gone, he’s on the run and your mommy’s here…” I swallowed the lump in my throat, closing my eyes tightly. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl.” All I could picture was the same memory, the blonde woman, the sunset, nothing else came. I decided to try something else. “Stars shining bright above me, night breezes seem to whisper…” I felt my eyes begin to sting. My throat was dry as I sang to myself. “I love you.” When nothing new made itself known to me I began to feel frustrated and honestly a little stupid.

It had worked before, listening to the songs had prompted my memories before why not now?

For the remainder of the day, I laid there in the sand, staring up at the blue sky above, the splotches of clouds.

Serbia. That is where I was kept, for months I’d been there. Time that was practically lost to me now. I thought of the ballerina’s twirling across the stage, the sweat beading on my forehead as I laid on that bed in Brazil, paralyzed by the flurry of memories. It was supposed to be easier now, Norris said the mental block in my wind was cracked, I should be able to remember, so why could I still feel the barrier, I knew I had more access now because where there had been nothing but a cold blank spot in my mind where nothing lived now things dwindled in the shadows, just out of reach. I wasn’t sure what was worse.

When I sat up the sun was nothing, but a mere suggestion hinted at along the horizon. I rested my chin atop my knee, watching the waves crest and break.

I opened the burner phone that Rick had given me, pressing the only number on speed dial. The phone rang 3 times before the line connected, there was silence at first, I knew he was just being caution, in case I’d been made, and the phone was stolen.

“I need a favor.”

He hummed. “Another favor?”

“I want you to ask your contacts if they heard about any hydra operations based in Serbia over the last 20 years, if they don’t know anything call the number, I send you and tell the woman who answers that you have a friend in common that wants to know if she’s heard about it. If she asks questions just tell her ‘Red’. I can pay for any information you find.”

After another moment of silence, he agreed, and I hung up before texting him Anna’s number.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready for this, or just how painful it would be to uncover the past that had evaded me for all these years. But at some point, while I was laying there in the sand, that same woman’s voice that had stuck with me all those years humming in my mind, I realized just how badly I needed to know. No matter what it was, or the toll it took on my mind. I had to know what was taken from me.

And I wouldn’t stop until I did.

[welldonebeca]

It's a Bad Idea, right? (Epilogue)

WC: 2.1k words Warnings: Mafia AU. Comfort. Fluff. Tension. Angst. Open ending? Happy Holidays and end of the year, everyone.

Masterlist

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The train was a long trip for Paris, and France.

In America, she could spend three hours in a car and she would still be in the state of New York, depending on which direction she went - damn, she could stiill be in the same city! But going from Nantes to Paris ��� for just about 2 and a half hours in a very stable train, peaceful, with a guaranteed seat and everything France had to offer – meant practically crossing the country, and it was much more peaceful and comfortable.

After some many years in America, she couldn’t find a single reason to complain about home.

Home.

It had a really good sound to it, didn’t it?

She tapped into her phone, finding another picture from Mum.

They were making a dinner fit for a royal guest, their intentions were very clear.

It wasn’t like she brought guests home constantly, that was going to be an occasion.

Betty was living in Paris now, but she made sure to always be in Nantes every other weekend to spend time with them. After so many years in America, even the longest week with her parents was too little to compensate for that time.

Mum and Dad loved it, really. They loathed the moment she had to leave, and she kind of felt the same.

Betty checked the time as the train stopped.

She was still on time.

She was still working remotely today, technically. They were closing the designs in the new collection, they did need her to finish up her last two designs before she was free this week. But it was fine, Betty would spend the way back finishing it.

It was a bit of time until she got to the airport, probably enough time for the whole immigration process and all, she would be there in time.

She stopped by a bakery outside the airport to get a good bag of warm croissants, and by the flower shop nearby to get a bouquet. It would be a nice welcoming gift!

At last, she went into the airport, checking her wristwatch as she went off to the terminal to wait.

That was a new… thing.

A new try.

Betty hadn’t cut off contact with her friends when she moved to France. Actually, if anything, she spoke to them much more. There was an incentive to be talking to them.

And didn’t psychology kind of say you bond with people you experience trauma with?

Truth was, the more time passed, the closer to Pietro Betty became.

They talked so, so much more now that they were on different continents, more than they ever did when they shared their home and worked in the same restaurant together.

So he had asked for a few vacation days, agreed to work a week remotely when they were over, and was coming to spend three weeks with her, in Nantes and then in Paris.

They weren't staying with her parents, of course, they were going to share the hotel room in Nantes and he was staying in her place in Paris.

It was new.

And they were taking it slow, as slow as they could, in the last half a year.

But he was in France now, and maybe things were going to move faster.

She shifted on her feet, a bit nervous, a bit anxious, shifting the paper bag and positioning the flower. Sunflowers, very lively.

Betty tried not to look too nervous, tapping her foot, and looking over the list of flights.

His flight had already landed.

What was taking him so long?

She exhaled, but walked back to a few seats facing the doors, crossing a leg over the other as she tried not to look too impatient.

It was so weird, the whole time she was in the train, or walking, she felt nothing. She was fine. And then, now that all she had to do was wait a few minutes, probably while Piet went through immigration, her heart was thundering in her chest and she just wanted time to move faster, and for him to just be there.

The music playing somewhere in the airport was calming enough that she could distract herself, but it would be a lie to say it didn’t scratch something in the back of her mind.

When was the last time she had even listened to ‘Coney Island’? Maybe back when she lived near said Coney Island?

Still, Betty hummed along, trying to remember the lyrics. Music had a thing, right? Of reminding people of them. Even after years of not listening to a song, just one play and there you go, you can sing it nearly perfectly again.

“I’m sitting on a bench in Coney Island wondering where did my baby go?” she mumbled, tapping her fingers to the beat. “The fast times, the bright lights, the merry-go. Sorry for not making you my centrefold.”

A few people emerged from the doors where Pietro was supposed to come from, but he wasn’t among them. And for the looks of it, immigration was going very slow.

Betty sighed, resigning herself to her spot.

“Disappointments close, your eyes, and it gets colder and colder,” she hummed to herself, probably off-key. “When the sun goes down.”

Something soured strangely in her belly. It was a very sad song for a place as bright as Coney Island was.

She felt someone sitting by her side, but kept her eyes on the gates.

Anytime now.

“Bonjour,” the man greeted her, his accent decidedly American.

“Bonjour,” she spoke back, but didn’t look at him.

The song kept going, and she could hear him humming along to it as he seemed to type onto his phone.

“What’s a lifetime of achievement? If I pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me?” he sang, a little bit indiscreet.

It was weird, but oh well. It was a good song, right?

But her stomach flipped anyway. His voice was a bit familiar.

Or maybe she was just remembering the New Yorker accent she heard so much before. It was probably that.

“And do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there?” she mumbled, hearing him do the same thing. “Will you forgive my soul when you are too wise to trust me or too old to care?”

She smiled a bit. Oh, well, then. She was whisper singing with a stranger, how fun.

“Cause we were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be,” she tapped her fingers on her thighs. “The mischief, the gift wrapped suburban dreams.”

“Sorry for not winning you an arcade ring,” he sang, perhaps too loud.

And maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was the way he said it.

Or the way his voice suddenly made sense, and she suddenly recognised it, because she had heard it singing songs in perfect pitch for months because that stupid card haunted her memory for so long. It was impossible to listen to Taylor Swift until… she even forgot she liked Taylor Swift.

Her neck turned so fast it nearly cracked, and there were the eyes she had made herself forget, bright blue and sweet and boyish, with maybe a bit more wrinkles as they looked back at her, as if he had aged five years in a space of, what 18 months?

Steffan's hair had changed, darker and longer, like a lion’s mane, and his beard was the thickest she had seen on a face.

But she could recognise his eyes anywhere, if his sheer size wasn’t enough of a tell-all.

"Hi, Betty," he greeted softly.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she stood up so abruptly she dropped the flowers on her lap. What in the world—

“How-” she stuttered out. “Where-”

How was in France?

How had he found her?

He had disappeared out of the fucking blue one day and now he was showing up the same way after?!

Steffan stood up as well, and Betty took a step back, and she could see it in his eyes how he froze, surprised by her reaction.

Well, what did he expect? That she jumped in joy? Hugged him and kissed him?!

"How are you here?" she demanded. "Why are you here?"

Was he stalking her? The idea sent a shiver down her spine as she glanced around, noticing his luggage nearby. Was he travelling?

Steffan rose to his feet as well, and Betty instinctively took a step back.

She looked to the side. He had a luggage. Was he travelling? Was he planning something?

"I was gonna take the train," he explained, his voice far too calm. "Then I saw you coming into the airport."

Betty looked back at the security around the airport. As far as she knew, he was a criminal, a Nazi, and was hiding from the police!

He took another step, and she took two of them back.

“Don’t,” she raised a finger. “Or I’ll scream. How did you find me? I’m not asking again!”

Steffan swallowed down, and she could see the tranquillity escaping his face.

"I didn't," he insisted, his voice full of desperation. "I promise, Betty. I really saw you on the street, and I couldn't risk it, I had to see if it was you! I read in a magazine that you worked in Paris, but-"

“Then came after me?” she interrupted him. “After all this time.”

“It was just dumb luck,” he continue, trying to defend himself. “I know there’s a lot I have to explain, but please, you need to listen to me, give me a chance?”

A chance?

Her blood boiled in her veins.

After she had spent her whole time in New York either trying to find him or expecting him to find her and making it so fucking easy she could attract a stalker!

“No!” she snapped, interrupting him.

Betty had fought tooth and nail to get a better life! She had a career, she had just bought her own house, her name meant something now and she had a boyfriend! She was safe now to go to the fucking temple every week, to be herself and not look over her shoulder every single time she was out of her house! And he wanted to ruin it?!

“Please,” he pleaded, his eyes soft and broken.

“If I ever see you again I’m calling the police,” Betty threatened, the words nearly falling off of her lips. “Stay away from me!”

And before she realised it, there was a policeman by her side and another standing between them.

“Is there a problem here?” he questioned.

She exhaled, swallowing down.

"No problem, officer," Steffan replied smoothly, his voice too steady despite what was happening between them. "Just a misunderstanding."

Misunderstanding her ass.

“Cet homme n’est pas censé être ici, il n’est pas censé être près de moi,"she told him quickly.

The officer by her side turned to her, and Betty lowered her eyed, swallowing down agai.

"Il est dangereux, monsieur. S’il vous plaît," she implored

He’s dangerous. Please.

She wouldn’t know if Steffan understood what she was saying, she wasn’t looking at him.

"Sir, I'm going to need to see some identification,” the officer between them decided.

Steffan hesitated, but patted his pocket and gave him an ID.

An American ID.

And, honestly, she could fight it, and tell them what she knew, but she just wanted to get him away from her!

The officer returned his ID, and Betty kept her eyes down.

“Thank you, Mr Carter,” e told him. “I’ll have to ask you to leave the premises. I’ll need to escort you if there's any more trouble.”

Mr Carter? So he had a new name now?

She looked up, and found Steffan with his jaw stiff, but he nodded, at last.

He pulled something from his wallet, and took out a little card, placing it down and on where she was previously seated.

Without a word, he walked out, and she exhaled, finally relaxing.

“Is this all, madame?”

She nodded, watching him go.

“Oui. Merci.”

They left her, and she covered her mouth with a hand, gasping and nearly dropping her bag of croissants when she felt a hand on her arm, but Pietro grabbed it before she could.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, grabbing it.

Betty threw her arms around his shoulders quickly, grabbing him and hugging him tightly.

Oh, God!

Pietro wrapped his arms around her slowly, croissants forgotten.

“Is everything okay?” he asked softly.

She pulled back to look at him, and his eyes were so soft it made her whole body relax.

Piet had just arrived. She couldn’t burden him like that from the first minute.

She nodded quickly, taking his face in her hands and pressing a kiss to his lips, and Pietro’s lips curled up into a smile.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

Betty nodded.

It was fine.

“Yeah,” she assured him. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

She was sure Steffan was never going to show up again.

They were safe and sound.

…

“it’s a Bad Idea, right?” was posted on my Patreon in September 2023. To have early access to it (and lots of other stories), consider subscribe to my page! It’s just $2 a month, and I know you won’t regret it!

…

Bad Idea: @peaceloveancolor

[figaroswilson]

𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙙 ⇒ 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘹 𝘦𝘹𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳!𝘰𝘧𝘤

Chapter 3

masterlist

story summary: Kira Barnes, the younger adopted sister of Bucky Barnes, is forced out of the dark underworld of espionage and into the light of the new world of superheroes when her brother abandons her with the Avengers to go on the run. She is set in her ways and determined to find her brother until she meets Pietro Maximoff, someone who challenges her black-and-white view of the world.

story warnings: violence, swearing, blood, descriptions of abuse

chapter word count: 2120

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~ ✺ ~

Tony went through the plan again as the Quinjet got closer to Klaue's location.

Truthfully, Kira wasn't listening too closely. She already knew the plan off by heart and was far too worried about Sam to hear it another time. They'd decided that he should be the one to stay behind to keep an eye on the still decrypting laptop. (If that stupid thing hadn't sputtered out and died by the time Kira got back, she was going to kill it herself.) She tried to reassure herself that he'd be fine; it would've been too suspicious for her to stay back as well anyways. But, no matter how she tried to frame it, nothing worked. It didn't help either that her danger sense hadn't stopped ringing since Ultron attacked the party. She just hoped the slight headache it was causing wouldn't develop into a full-blown migraine during the mission. Though knowing her luck, it definitely would.

"And make sure you stick to it, Kira," Tony finished as the Quinjet landed, emphasising her name to get her attention.

She tried to look offended, but he did have a point. Kira's bad habit of not listening when running through a plan extended to completely ignoring it whenever she didn't trust a mission was going well. In her defence, though, the plan was quite simple; there really was no need to listen a tenth time. Tony, Steve and Thor would pay Klaue a visit, whilst Kira, Nat and Clint would stay hidden on the sidelines, keeping an eye out, with Bruce waiting in the Quinjet. If a fight broke out Tony, Steve and Thor would be the ones to deal with it and the others would only help if and when needed. Emphasis on if. Kira had tried to argue that she could be more useful, but Tony and Steve had been adamant. The smaller the confrontation, the better.

"I'll stick to the plan. Promise," she told him as they left the Quinjet. "Though feel free to explain it again," she teased.

"Hilarious, Ki."

~ ✺ ~

They had landed near a salvage yard, just off the coast of South Africa, where Klaue's black market business operated out of one of the many abandoned ships.

According to Tony, Klaue had been there for years and by the looks of it, nothing had changed in years either. The ship was dark, bathed in a few red emergency lights. Boxes of supplies lay strewn about the floor. The rust growing on the old steel walls, pools of machining oil and sweat combined into a sharp metallic stench. But there was no one to be found.

Kira, Nat and Clint had been sent in first to scout the place out. Where was everyone? Kira wondered. Munitions, halfway through assembly, sat on unattended operating lines. When in production, the noise must have been deafening, but the place was empty and every footstep felt too loud. The other two looked just as confused as she felt. "Did they know we were coming?" she whispered.

Nat began to answer when the lights cut out. Immediately, they stilled. They were entirely shrouded in darkness. Kira could hear some faint voices, but they were too distant even for her to make out. A few moments passed in panic. Until, slowly, a few flickering yellow bulbs turned on. Now that they could see it better, the ship was, to put it lightly, even more run down than it looked in the dark.

Kira heard his voice then, discernible now. Ultron. He was talking with three others whose voices she didn't recognise. Two with Sokovian accents and one with an Afrikaans accent. Shit. Ultron and the twins had gotten to Klaue first. Quickly, signalling to the others, they spilt up and each slipped into a shadowed corner. The comms crackled on as Clint updated everyone else, but Kira tuned it out as she tried to focus on what Ultron was saying. He did not sound happy.

"Don't compare me with Stark!" he yelled. "It's a thing with me. Stark is... he's a sickness!"

"Ahh, Junior." Kira heard Tony land somewhere above her, Steve and Thor following closely behind. "You're gonna break your old man's heart."

"If I have to." The rage was evident in Ultron's  voice.

Thor tried to calm the situation. "We don't have to break anything."

Bad idea, Kira thought.

"Clearly you've never made an omelette," Ultron quipped.

"He beat me by one second," Tony mumbled.

Knew it.

Then a man, whose voice she didn't recognise, stepped forward. "Ah, this is funny, Mr. Stark." He spoke with a heavy Sokovian accent. Pietro Maximoff. "It's what, comfortable? Like old times?" he mocked.

Tony suddenly became very serious. "This was never my life."

"You two can still walk away from this," Steve spoke up.

"Oh, we will." Another voice Kira didn't recognise. Wanda Maximoff.

Steve continued, "I know you've suffered—"

"Agh!" Ultron interrupted, disgusted. "Captain America. God's righteous man, pretending you could live without a war. I can't physically throw up in my mouth, but..." It was terrifying how quickly Ultron had learnt such human traits. Rage, disgust and even humour, dry as it was. Bruce and Tony were far too good at their jobs.

"If you believe in peace, then let us keep it." Thor insisted.

"I think you're confusing peace with quiet."

"Yuh-huh. What's the Vibranium for?" Tony was clearly over it now.

"I'm glad you asked that because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan—"

Light exploded above Kira. A series of blasts followed. She shielded her eyes as she pushed herself further into the wall. Metal clanged against metal. Glass shattered. People crashed into each other. Gunshots rang out. Klaue's men were back now too.

"Clint! Nat!" Steve yelled, and they rushed out to help.

Dammit. This was not the plan.

"Steve," Kira hissed.

"Not now, Ki." He was clearly very busy. She heard him throw the shield and listened as it ricocheted against its targets. "Stay down, kid," he said to someone else on the other side of the comms.

"Steve, come on," she insisted. "I can help too. Klaue's men are back—"

"Do. Not. Move. Kira." Steve said, louder this time, punctuating each word.

There was a small pause, before a quiet and curious, "Kira?" came over the comms. Maximoff. He knew she was there, so now they all knew she was there.

Fuck, Kira thought.

"Fuck," Steve muttered.

Still, he kept firm in his decision. Kira was stuck hiding in a corner, occasionally taking out any of Klaue's men that were unlucky enough to come across her, and listening to the others giving updates on comms.

"Thor, status?"

"The girl tried to warp my mind," he replied. "Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay. Fortunately, I am mighty."

Great. We're so fucked.

~ ✺ ~

Something shifted from then on; not just with the progression of the fight, but with Kira herself.

Her headache, as she had predicted, did begin to develop into a migraine. A migraine so bad that, with it, came intense waves of nausea. She hadn't experienced anything like this since before receiving the super soldier serum. It was supposed to prevent any and all illness, so being nauseous made no sense. At least it's manageable for now, she thought thankfully.

As for the others, apart from some concerning groans of pain, Kira didn't hear much else from them. There was a problem with the comms too. She was convinced she had heard Bruce try to talk to them, before being cut off, though no one else had the time to be concerned. And, after that, each of her teammates slowly started to drop out of the channel, leaving only static behind, until it was just her and Clint left.

"Whoever's standing: we gotta move," Clint spoke up, sounding out of breath.

"Hold on—" It had taken Kira a second to process what he had just said. She had been busy knocking out one of Klaue's men with his own gun. "What do you mean 'whoever's standing'?" she asked.

"The kid, Wanda. She just tried to mess with my head. Some mind-control thing using her powers. I stopped her before she could, but her brother knocked me down. And I don't think I'm the only one she's tried it on if we're going off what Thor said earlier." He paused. "Wait. Have you not seen them yet?"

"No, you know I've been stuck in this corner since—"

"Kira," he interrupted. "Get out of here. Now." Then the comms went completely silent.

~ ✺ ~

This is why she never stuck to the plan.

The one time she listened and her whole team had been taken out? Fuck this shit, she thought and left that stupid corner, gun in hand.

The ship was eerily quiet. A quick sweep of the bottom floor and she knew she was the only one there. The only one conscious at least, she thought, looking down at the man she had just knocked out. Barrel trained on the ground, she ventured further into the ship.

Kira had last heard movement from the walkway, where Tony had first confronted Ultron, and so she headed for the steps that lead up to it. Her view no longer obstructed, she now saw it was just as empty as the rest of the ship, though entirely changed from when she first entered. The handrails were dented, bent and broken. Blasts from Tony and Ultron had melted perfect holes through the metal panels. Broken glass littered the whole path.

Her footsteps echoed in her wake as she carefully climbed up. She paused halfway. Waited a few seconds. Other than the quiet groans from Klaue's men, she couldn't hear anything. Nothing from her teammates.

She continued, slower than before. Angrier than before. She had no idea where the others were, how they were. What they were going through. Tried to mess with my head, Clint had said. What had the Maximoff girldone to get them to go entirely silent?

Once she reached the walkway, she stopped. Lifted her gun. Assessed the area. It was an incredibly vulnerable position, visible from most parts of the ship. If she wasn't careful, she would be putting herself in a lot of danger. Though at that point, near blind with rage, she didn't care much.

Tentatively, she started to cross. Glass crunched underneath her boots. She was halfway along when she saw him. He appeared out of nowhere, wisps of blue light trailing after him, standing at the opposite end. His shock of hair was so pale it looked as if it had been bleached white. Pietro Maximoff. He was staring straight at her, eyes only momentarily flitting down to her gun, which was trained on him. When he met her eyes again, he was livid.

In that moment, Kira didn't think she could hate anyone more. Then his sister stepped forward. Red glowing eyes. Wanda Maximoff. Her expression matched her brother's, only rivalled, perhaps, by Kira's own. She was the person who had hurt her team, some of the only people she cared for. She was the one who had incapacitated them and messed with their heads. She had hurt them so badly, that Clint had told her she needed to get away. No matter the odds, Kira decided she wasn't going to back down.

She took a step towards Maximoff, when, in an instant, her migraine and nausea receded. Her danger sense had just... stopped. It felt like her vision had cleared and she could see properly for the first time in days. Maximoff had tried to hurt everyone else by messing with their heads, succeeding with most, but for some reason, she posed no threat to Kira. It was such a ridiculous notion, that someone with magic was harmless to someone without, that a laugh bubbled out of her. She knew she must look crazy, but she couldn't help it.

Her laughter made Maximoff pause. She took a step back from Kira as her anger morphed into confusion. Then, a second later, it changed again. Into... fear? That made no sense. What could possibly scare someone who had had the audacity to attack a Norse God? But it was definitely fear that Kira saw in Maximoff's eyes. She knew it intimately; she could never mistake it.

Kira looked over and, sure enough, that same fear was reflected in her brother's eyes. Something was very wrong but she didn't dare look away from the twins.

Maximoff slowly backed away, as if from a dangerous animal, getting closer to her brother. As soon as she was by his side, she grabbed his arm, and they were gone. Just as quickly as they had appeared. A wispy trail of blue light the only evidence they had been there at all.

What just happened?

~ ✺ ~