Between Lies and Love

Chapter 1

Wanda stood motionless in the dark, cold hallway of the S.W.O.R.D. facility, her eyes scanning the empty space around her. She'd done it again—been assigned to a mission, completed it flawlessly, all without breaking a sweat. But it no longer felt like an achievement. Each mission now brought her further from any sense of peace. The longer she stayed here, the less of herself she recognized.

The hum of technology and the faint flicker of fluorescent lights were all she had known for months. Every day was the same. People here didn't see her as Wanda Maximoff. They saw her as an asset, a weapon, a reminder of the power that could obliterate entire cities if left unchecked. The walls of the compound felt as suffocating as the weight of her past.

She couldn't stay here anymore. She had to disappear.

As Wanda stood in her room later that night, she threw a few essentials into a worn duffle bag. Her breathing was shallow, her heart racing as she moved silently around the room. No one could know she was leaving—not yet. If they found out, they'd try to stop her, bring her back into the fold, and she couldn't risk that. Not anymore.

It wasn't just the missions. It wasn't even the constant surveillance or the whispers behind her back that pushed her to this decision. It was something deeper. Something in her soul had been eroded, worn down by grief and loss, until there was nothing left but the hollow ache of loneliness.

The memories haunted her. The people she had hurt, the lives she had taken—Westview. The mere thought of it made her throat tighten, the faces of those innocent people flashing before her eyes. Vision. Pietro. Every person she had ever loved was either gone or suffering because of her. How could she keep going?

Wanda's hands trembled as she zipped up her bag. She knew what she had to do. She needed to leave everything behind. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, the Avenger—all of it. She needed to vanish, to become someone new.

She had done it before. She could do it again.

The bus rumbled beneath her as she gazed out the window, the early morning mist clinging to the passing landscape. Her reflection in the glass looked like a stranger—eyes shadowed with exhaustion, face set in determination. She wasn't Wanda anymore. Wanda was too dangerous, too recognizable. No, she was Lizzy now. Just Lizzy.

The coastal town she'd chosen was far from anywhere that mattered. Small, isolated, and most importantly, quiet. She'd spent hours poring over maps, searching for the kind of place where no one would ask questions, where the past didn't follow you, and where she could simply disappear into the background.

As the bus rolled into the town, she felt a strange sensation in her chest—something almost like hope, but tainted by the fear that her past might catch up to her. Could she really outrun who she was?

The town was everything she had hoped it would be. Small shops lined the main street, their windows displaying simple goods and handwritten signs. The scent of saltwater filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread from a nearby café. The ocean was only a few blocks away, its rhythmic waves crashing against the shore like a lullaby.

Lizzy—Wanda—pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders as she stepped off the bus. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden glow over the town. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the quiet, to breathe in the newness of this place. It was different. It was a place where no one knew her, where no one looked at her like she was dangerous.

She had called ahead and rented a small apartment on the outskirts of town. The landlady, a woman named Mrs. Rivers, hadn't asked many questions. All she cared about was the deposit, and Lizzy was happy to keep things that simple. No questions, no past.

The apartment itself was humble, tucked in the back of an old, weathered building. It was small, but clean, with faded wallpaper and creaky wooden floors. There was a single bed pushed against one wall, a small kitchenette, and a window that looked out onto the street below. It wasn't much, but it felt safe. It felt like a new beginning.

She set her bag down on the bed and walked over to the window, watching as a few people shuffled down the street, carrying groceries or walking their dogs. This was her life now. No more powers, no more missions, no more danger. She was just Lizzy. A woman looking for peace.

As she stood there, her reflection ghosted in the glass, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her decision. Could she really do this? Could she really become someone else? It had been easier to hide when she was younger, when she was running from something tangible. But now, she wasn't just running from S.W.O.R.D. or her past. She was running from herself.

The café down the street became her regular haunt. It was small, warm, and quiet, just like the rest of the town. Lizzy found work there within the first week, taking a job as a barista. The owner, an older man named Frank, was kind but didn't pry, content with Lizzy's quiet efficiency and the fact that she didn't make a fuss about the minimal pay.

The customers were mostly locals, familiar faces who trickled in throughout the day for their coffee and small talk. Lizzy was careful to keep her conversations brief, to offer smiles but never give too much of herself away. She liked the rhythm of the work—the soft hiss of the espresso machine, the clinking of mugs, the hum of conversation that washed over her without requiring her to engage.

It was a simple life, and that was exactly what she needed.

Yet, even as she settled into this new routine, there were moments when the past clawed at her. A news broadcast on the café's radio about a superhero incident across the country would make her heart race. The sight of someone in a S.W.O.R.D. uniform passing through town sent a shiver down her spine. But she kept her head down, kept pretending.

She didn't let herself think too much about what she had left behind. Every time her thoughts drifted to Vision, to her brother Pietro, or to the wreckage of Westview, she forced herself to focus on something else—the order in front of her, the sounds of the ocean in the distance, the feeling of the warm coffee cup in her hands.

Still, she knew the ghosts of her past wouldn't disappear so easily. They never did.

At night, Lizzy sat by the window in her apartment, the only light coming from the streetlamp below. She watched as the world outside moved on, oblivious to the fact that the woman sitting alone in this room had once been one of the most powerful beings on the planet. Oblivious to the destruction she had caused, the lives she had ruined.

She couldn't let them find out. She couldn't let herself slip. The powers that had once felt so natural, so much a part of her, were now a threat to everything she was trying to build. Here, in this town, she wasn't Wanda. She was Lizzy, a barista, a woman with a quiet, uneventful life. That's how it had to stay.

And yet, as the days passed, she couldn't shake the feeling that this quiet wouldn't last forever. The past had a way of finding you, no matter how far you tried to run. But for now, Lizzy held onto the hope that, just maybe, she could keep her secret a little longer.

That maybe, for the first time in a long time, she could be free.