Prologue

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Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart

She stares out the window of the quinjet, too tired to speak.

She has no family left; Pietro is dead, she felt him die, the 12 bullets that had hit his body, reflected his pain to her.

She didn't remember most of the day, except fighting with the Avengers and becoming one.

But they wouldn't take her in; she was only 16, not in her 20's like they probably thought she was.

She digs her nail into her thigh.

"Hey kid." A voice says from above her, and she sees Captain America, of Steve Rogers.

"Hi." She whispers.

She doesn't feel like talking, but she doesn't want to be rude.

He sits down beside her, taking in a heavy breath before speaking.

"We need to know who you are. Stark is trying to find out your age so you can become a citizen in America. So, I don't want to intrude, but how old are you."

She swallows a breath she didn't know she was holding. "16. My birthday was a few months ago."

He almost throws up when he hears it.

What she's saying.

That she's a child-16.

"Give me a minute." He replies, getting up. He pats her shoulder as gets up, and she nods silently.

His helmet is off, as he walks to where Tony Stark and the other Avengers are, trying to stay as far away from the new recruit as possible.

"Avengers." He says, his voice low. "She's not 20. She's 16."

They all stare at him.

"She just told me. Said her birthday was a few months ago. She's lost everything."

"What do you mean?" Natasha speaks up.

"She's lost Sokovia. Her brother, and we have no idea where her parents are. Tony," he starts, looking at iron man, who snaps his head at him. "Who's going to take custody. She's not a citizen of America."

"I'll work on it. Back at the Avengers Tower."

...

It had been worked on.

Steve had custody of her, until she was an actual citizen of America.

She sighs as she lays on her bed in the new Avenger's tower, which finally, for the first time in a few years, actually feels like home.

The bed is comfortable, and she has multiple items of clothes in the closet Natasha had shown her, but she insisted on wearing Pietro's old sweatshirt.

It was his.

She knows that they all hate her.

She wishes she could leave; it's only been a week, and nobody has even noticed her.

Would they notice if she left?

No, they would.

There were probably camera's in the bedroom.

She knew Natasha or Tony probably hated her the most.

She understood why.

She's probably seen as not human-an object.

Somebody who was experimented on for years by HYDRA and did nothing, someone who was too scared to do anything, even if she knew it was wrong.

She runs her fingers through her hair.

...

She didn't even know what happened after that.

She didn't know how she became close with the man who was the reason for her parent's death, but she somehow did.

He had nicknames for her, such as, 'Little Witch' and 'Baby Witch' or even 'Glinda', and she felt happy that someone saw her magic as a positive, not a negative.

Natasha was harder.

It had been one night, about two-three months after Ultron, when she had heard loud whimpers and cries from a room close to her,

She had realized it was Natasha, and she had never seen the Black Widow in such distress.

The redhead was crying, talking about nightmares of the red room, and Wanda had been careful, to try and block out those memories with her magic.

Natasha had hugged her after, her lips curling into a smile.

So did Wanda's.

...

The fact that they had allowed her to train with actual magic users instead of by herself almost made her cry.

Of joy, not sadness.

She had smiled, hugging the Avengers who were able to do it for her, and they had been happy for her, too.

...
James
...

Those words.

The notebook.

He couldn't breathe.

They kept on repeating it-they wanted the Winter Solider back, but he couldn't let that happen.

"Stop." He speaks up, but his protests are quiet.

He's slapped in the face.

It goes on.

That's when it happens.

"Soldier?" They ask in Russian.

"Ready to comply." He replies in the same language.

"Maximoff Twins. Everything you know."

He had to think about it.

...

The girl screaming for her brother as he firmly held her arm in his metal one.

"Let go of me!" She had cried. "Pietro!"

"Wanda!" He had yelled back. "I'll be okay, I promise!"

She had nodded, with tears in her eyes as the Winter Soldier pulled her into a different room, pinning her to the wall.

She had stared at him, her breath heavy against his cold skin.

"If you do that again," he had hissed into her ear. "your brother will be killed right before you. You hear me?"

She had nodded, tears in her eyes.

...

"He's fast and she's weird. Except he's dead and she's alive."

𝗘𝗻𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 [𝗦𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗙𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘁]Where stories live. Discover now