How To Save A Life | Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff

10.

"I have your results back."

Only one of the many sentences in Wanda's life that has made her freeze with fear.

This is the first time she's ever been diagnosed with anything other than her chronic anxiety, but that was a long time ago, when she was still at the Compound and the team psychologist picked up on it straight away.

Wanda wasn't exactly subtle.

"So," Doctor Shepherd clears her throat. "You only have a small concussion, nothing major, which I'm sure is a relief to hear. You do, however, have extremely low levels of iron and glucose."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you are going to die if you don't give this up. Luckily for you, you're in the early stages of your eating disorder so it'll be easier to drag you out of it."

Wanda sniggers.

"I don't have an eating disorder."

"If I read your chart correctly, Violet diagnosed you with anorexia last time you were here. I haven't had an eating disorder, but I know people who have. Close friends of mine."

"So why are you trying to help me if you don't have a clue what you're doing?"

Amelia smiles at the patient, figuring it's best to be on friendly terms with the information she's about to share.

Dragging a stool over to in front of the examination table, where Wanda is currently sat, Amelia perches herself down and thinks about where to start.

"Well, Wanda, I may not know how to help you with the anorexia, but I know a thing or two about addiction, believe me. And losing a lot of family members. I know exactly how you feel."

"I doubt that."

Oh, if only she knew.

"I started drinking as a teenager. Hardcore. Partying, getting high with friends. Hell, I even tried to jump off a roof one time when I was so high that I couldn't even remember my own name. My father was shot in front of me when I was five, my entire family disowned me, my best friend killed herself not too long ago, I slipped, ruined my sober streak and began drinking and popping pills again. I met a guy, we got high together, he died in bed right beside me when I was fast asleep and too wasted to notice. Then to top it all off, I fell pregnant with his baby, only to find out that it was anencephalic and was going to die when it was born. And that, Wanda Maximoff, is what happens when you lose control of your drinking habits. A glass of wine or two at dinner? Fine. But not for people like us because we find it too easy to just keep going. You still think I don't have a clue how you're feeling?"

Wanda is lost for words. She was so sure that only she could feel the type of sorrow that consumes her every minute of every day. Then came someone who's situation doesn't sound too far off.

"... I-I stand corrected," she breathes out, quoting Amelia from earlier in the examination.

"Look, I'm gonna give you my personal number. You don't have to, but I will be on standby if you need someone to talk to. Remember, addiction is something no one should ever have to go through alone. You may have your friend with you, but let's face it, she won't understand properly. I will."

Taking her up on the gracious offer, Wanda allows the doctor to put her number into her phone. It's worth a try, having someone other than Nat to talk to.

"You're a lot like me, Wanda," Amelia informs the redhead, "I may have only met you a couple hours ago, but really I've known you my whole life, because you're me. Your eating disorder is out of my skill set, but if I have any advice to give you, it's this: if you won't eat for yourself, do it for someone you care about. Partner, kids, Natasha. Anyone who you give a crap about because I promise that they don't want to see you die. I don't want to see you die. This is just a really shitty part of your life and I know you don't feel like you can get thorough it, but take me as living proof that your addiction and your eating disorder will not overpower you, as long as you don't let them. Don't let them."