Run to You|Pietro Maximoff

Chapter Twenty-One

Ira laid on her bed, her long blonde hair fanning around her face in a halo. The mattress squeaked as Wanda sat on it. "Alright," She said. Her voice was half concern and half aggravation. "You have got to get up."

"And do what exactly?" She asked defeatedly. "I'm sick." She sniffled to emphasize her point.

"Can't you heal it?" Wanda asked. Ira looked at her.

"Gee, didn't think of that," she replied, and sat up. "No I can't heal it! Healing it requires energy, and this stupid flu has sapped every last drop of energy from me. Just let me die in peace," she asked, and flopped back down.

"It's like you're another person when you're sick. Some people get tired, some people get depressed, but I get stuck with sassy Ira." Wanda complained.

"Okay, I'm sorry," the blonde apologized. "I'm just so achey and tired," she said, and coughed. "I feel like I've contracted three illnesses at once." She sat up, and sneezed. Wanda sighed, pulling a tissue from the box on her nightstand and handing it to her. Ira blew her nose before throwing the tissue into the overflowing trash can by the side of her bed.

"Alright," Wanda said. She patted Ira's leg. "I'll make you soup that our mother used to make whenever Pietro or I got sick." She said, and stood up.

"Where is Pietro?" Ira questioned. The brunette shrugged.

"I'll find him for you." She left the room, and heard Wanda talking with someone out in the hall. Minutes later Pietro rushed in. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"Are you okay, dragoste?" He asked.

Ira looked at him. "Not really." He had her sit up, fluffed the pillows behind her, and she laid back down.

"I'll get you medicine, and something to drink," he promised, before running off. He was back in a second, holding an ibuprofen bottle and a glass of water. He handed her the water, and twisted open the pills. He handed her one, and she drank the water, before setting it down on her nightstand.

Pietro set the pills down, and sat next to her on the bed. He laid his head down next to her, and gently ran his fingers through her platinum locks. She smiled weakly, and grabbed another tissue. "You can go," she told him. "I'll be alright."

He shook his head. "I'm staying by your side."

"But I don't want to get you sick," she protested, looking up at him.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "The experiments increased my immune system." Slightly reassured, Ira laid back down next to him.

Soon Wanda came in, carefully carrying a steaming bowl of soup. She set it down on the nightstand. Ira sat up, and gratefully took the soup from the nightstand. She brought the spoon to her mouth, and sipped on the savory broth. "Thank you so much," she told Wanda, who smiled. "Could you...?" She asked, and pointed towards the television.

Wanda walked over, and turned on the TV, handing Ira the remote. "Thanks," she said again.

"Alright, I'm going to go," Wanda told her, but Ira shook her head.

"Stay and watch a movie with us," she pleaded.

Wanda rolled her eyes endearingly, and sat down on the other side of Ira. The three of them sat in the bed together watching movies until well into the afternoon. Ira had spent nearly four hours resting and eating soup, so at this point she was feeling much better.

After the movies were done, Ira carefully extricated herself from the complicated position of both Pietro and Wanda laying their heads on her shoulders as they peacefully slept. She gently lashed their heads on the pillows, and left the room.

She wasn't exactly sure where she was going, but she found solace in the late midnight walks through the facility. She wandered out to the balcony, and sat gazing at the stars. It amazed her how each twinkling light was hundreds of thousands of light years away, and yet they all seemed so close. She traced the constellations in the sky with her eyes, as she took in the peace and quiet.

The peaceful sounds of the outdoors surrounded her. Crickets chirped in the forest, and and owl's haunting cry echoed through the night. She could hear the crunching of leaves as a slight breeze swirled them into the air. She sighed with contentment, and leaned her head on her hand, overlooking the blissful night.

As she was gazing over the peaceful landscape, a loud echoing crack split the night. Ira whipped her head towards the forest, her blonde hair flying over her face. She peered into the depths, instantly on alert. Her hands glowed as she allowed energy to seep into them, ready to be projected at any incoming threat.

But it was only a deer, stepping on a brittle twig. The doe stared at her for a few seconds, before turning and meandering back into the forest, not fazed in the slightest. Ira sighed with relief, and got up, heading back to her room.

When she got there, it looked as if both Wanda and Pietro had gone back to their respective rooms, leaving hers empty. She changed into a tank top and shorts, and crawled into the bed, her bare legs brushing up against the smooth sheets.

She lay her head on the pillow, and stared up at the ceiling, allowing her eyes to remain open while her mind wandered. After a few minutes of mulling over the day, she began to grow weary, and closed her eyes, drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep.

And yet, it wasn't peaceful. It was fragmented with terrible dreams of the Avenger's destruction. Wanda had told Ira what she had shown Tony as he took the scepter all those months ago, and it was similar, except on a much larger scale.

The compound lay burning in the background, the forests near it ablaze. The sky was gray with heavy smoke and smog, and Ira couched as she lay on the grass. Her hand was gripping her side, and she pulled back her fingers, now sticky with blood. Her blonde hair was matted and dirty, and her clothes were torn and burnt.

She looked around her. Wanda's lifeless eyes stared at the sky above as she lay on the ground, her chest stained red. Pietro lay next to her, clutching her hand to bring each other even a small semblance of comfort. Clint and Sam lay on the ground near each other, Sam bleeding profusely, but still clinging to life, while Clint eyes stared unseeing at his surrounding. Bruce was sitting on the ground clutching his knees to his chest, his eyes glazed over. Steve and Natasha lay near each other, Steve's broken shield still gripped in his hand. Natasha's red hair was matted with blood, and two bullet holes lay directly over her heart.

Ira gasped as she took in the destruction around her. She wanted to help her friends, but she was too weak. She could feel herself slowly dying as the blood seeped out of her wound. Finally, her head hit the floor, and her eyes closed.

Ira gasped and sat up, her hair sticking to her neck with sweat. She looked around her room, trying to slow her breathing and calm herself down. She took deep breaths, and laid back down. She shut her eyes, and went back to sleep, dreading what was to come.
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A/N:

So I made the dream pretty dark for some reason?? As you can tell, I am flat out of ideas. This book is almost over though, and I'm not quite sure how I'll finish it, but then it's going to go through a lot of editing.

I love you three thousand,

E l i z a b e t h