Where your loyalties lie (Two New Bartons book 2) (completed)

Scott Lang - Wanda

When I wake up, I'm stiff all over. I'm lying on a row of cushions, covered by a blanket. The cushions aren't quite thick enough to mask the hardness of the van's floor, but they do the job. It feels like I've been sleeping on a sofa instead of on the floor of a Hydra cell. 

Clint is nowhere to be seen, but Lang is lying on a similar bed on the opposite side of the van. 

I sit up slowly, stretching out every muscle. After looking around for a second to get my bearings, I gather up my cushions and blanket and move back to the corner. I quickly rearrange them, placing the pillows on the floor for me to sit on and against the wall for me to lean on, and wrapping the blanket around myself. 

It's strange. I'm not feeling angry or sad or betrayed or anything else I was feeling before I fell asleep. The only emotion in my mind is... calm. Safe. Must have been something I dreamed. I vaguely remember my mother singing to me, my father playing with Pietro in the background. At some point, one of them said, "I love you," but I couldn't make out who it was. 

I stare at Lang, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. My heart slows itself to move at his rhythm. There's a soft smile on his face, and I wonder what he's dreaming about to bring about an expression like that. I keep watching him for a while, then, before I can stop myself, I wave my hand and the scarlet energy pulls me into his mind. 

Suddenly, I'm standing in the corner of a living room. It's not exactly messy, but it's not tidy either. It feels lived in. In the middle are a woman with dark hair and gossamer wings, and a little girl who looks like a younger, female version of Lang. Somehow, I know their names. 

Hope and Cassie. 

"No, look," Hope says, "Like this."

Her wings start fluttering, and she lifts off the ground. 

Cassie giggles and starts flapping her arms up and down. Slowly she lifts up, too. 

"Look, Mommy!" she squeals, and Hope laughs. 

"Well done!"

I can feel the dream fading, feel Lang waking up, and pull out again. I just have time to lower my arm before his eyes blink open. They widen when he recognizes me. 

"You- you're-"

I hold out my hand. "Wanda Maximoff. We were never officially introduced."

Lang hesitates for a second, before sitting up, taking my hand and shaking it. "Scott Lang. You were the one who-"

"Came to get you, yeah."

"And did you just-" he gestures to his head.

"Yeah."

"Okay, cool."

"Sorry," I add. "I was bored."

"...Right."

"Was that your wife and kid?" I ask.

"Kid and girlfriend," Lang replies. "Cassie's mother and I... aren't a thing anymore."

I nod. "I'm sorry."

He just shrugs. 

There's a moment of silence, which i break by saying, "So, Mr. Lang-"

"Scott, please," he interrupts.

"Scott, then. Are you ready to go well outside the law to fight for what's right and probably get arrested?"

"Been there, done that." He waves my question away. "Prison's not actually as bad as people make it out to be."

"I doubt we'd be going to prison." I shiver and pull my blanket closer around me with a wave of my hand. There's very little insulation on the parking levels, unlike the upper recreational ones.

"So, you're the famous Miss Maximoff." He doesn't say it as a question. 

The only reply I give is, "Wanda."

Scott nods. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I was expecting something... more."

I shrug. "I did fly you across the US in little more than two hours."

"Two hours?!" he gasps. "It felt like much longer."

"For us, it was. But my brother, Pietro, slowed time and I took advantage of it." I don't tell the details, like why Pietro slowed everything down, or how I managed to avoid the slow.

"Oh, okay." He nods much more than strictly necessary. Then he says, "So you saw my family. What about yours?"

"It's just me and my brother." Just me. "Our parents died when we were kids. We've been together ever since." Not anymore. 

"Wow, that's tough."

"It's not so bad. We've got Clint and his family. Although, Pietro's closer to them than me."

"Clint?" 

"Hawkeye." I grin at the name. I've always thought it was stupid. Just because he has perfect vision or whatever, doesn't make him a hawk. I did research into the birds specifically to tease Clint about it, and his sight isn't nearly as good as theirs. 

"Ah," Scott nods. Clearly his nickname has more meaning to him as his actual name. "So, what am I actually doing here?" 

"I'm fairly sure the only reason Cap called you in is because of his friend, Barnes, who is some crazy assassin guy. I'm not 100 percent on it, but I believe it's something to do with the bombing in Vienna, which he was framed for. I think."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"Does it?"

"No, not all."

I laugh. It feels good. I feel like I haven't smiled in years, even though it can't have been more than two or three days. I've completely lost track. 

I shiver again, and Scott says, "Hey, you look cold. Here." He holds out his blanket. 

"No, you need it. I'm fine." But I really am quite cold. 

"Well then, here." He holds out the next closest thing to him - Pietro's jumper. 

I bite my lip and take it. He doesn't know what it is, what it means to me. I wrap it around my shoulders, hugging the material close, smelling my brother in the fabric. Slowly, a red glow surrounds me. 

Word count: 944