The Girl in Purple (Pietro Maximoff) #Wattys2015

The Boy Who Visited A Doctor

Pietro sat in the therapists consulting room, staring out at the rain which was pouring heavily through the broken guttering.

Doctor Watson sat opposite him, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. The silver-haired male wasn't sure why he had chosen this doctor in particular. Prehaps it was the way he was calm collected. Maybe it was because he could be truly empathetic when it came to talking about loss and death. Or prehaps...maybe...prehaps it was because of his unintimidating size. John Watson was a good few feet smaller than Pietro in height. You might even say he was Hobbit-sized.

Actually, when Pietro thought about it more indepthly, it was because Doctor Watson looked like a hedgehog. Yeah, that was it.

"How are you sleeping?" the said doctor asked, his hands clasped together, resting on his yellow notepad.

Quicksilver shrugged. "I still get nightmares if that's what you're asking."

"Of the experiment?"

"Of her screams."

Doctor Watson sighed. "Pietro, we have talked about this, whats happened to Arrabella isn't your fault."

"But it is." the Avenger's gaze flashed with unadulterated angery as his eye contact met his therapist's. Pietro's jaw clenched as he attempted to swat away the red mist he was seeing. He sat back more in his chair, legs stretched out more before him. "It is." Pietro's voice grew quieter. He paused, choosing his words carefully. Then, he shook his head. "I can't stop blaming myself. I promised to help her and all I've really done is cause her more harm."

"More harm than what HYDRA would have done?" the doctor interrupted Pietro.

The patient shrugged. "Feels like it."

"You're wrong," the older male continued his interruption. "you're wrong and you know what you're saying isn't true. You just want to blame someone for what went wrong, so you're taking on all of the guilt."

Pietro sat forwards, his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. "You don't understand though, doc. You don't see Arrabella on a day to day basis. She is miserable and who can blame her? Before the serum, she could only say one word, a foul word at that but now, now she can only scream."

"You can't blame yourself for something that is beyond your control though. HYDRA implanting a degenerating system in Arrabella's brain, which worsens her state with each administered medical treatment, is not your fault."

"I don't blame myself for that, it's one of the only things I don't consider as my fault. I blame myself for letting her down. I said I'd help her and I haven't."

"So what, you're saying that maybe you two should never have met?"

"No." Pietro said, utterly horrified. "No, that's...that's not it."

Doctor Watson shuffled in his seat, hands now steepled beneath his chin. "I see."

"You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

He shook his head. "I live with crazy at home. You're not crazy. You're just confused, upset and wanting to help an innocent victim."

A small smile played on Quicksilver's lips. A rare sight. "It's just," he cleared his voice, sitting up. Gaze now focused on the window, the rain in particular. "I don't know how to make her smile anymore. The little bit of happiness we had, it was great but now, we have nothing."

"You have each other," the doctor assured him. "try to remind Arrabella of those snippets of happiness." glacing at the time, he placed his pad and paper to the side, rising out of his chair. "Same time next
week?"

Pietro too rose from his chair, nodding. "Thank you, doc."

Doctor Watson nodded and smiled. "I'll see you next week but in the meantime, look after yourself and her."

With a weak smile, Pietro nodded, exiting the consulting room.

Doctor Watson walked calmly over to his desk, swapping Pietro's file for his next patient's. "Right," he muttered to himself. "Steve Rogers, here to talk about Bucky."