Two New Bartons (completed)

Him - Wanda

Life without Pietro is even worse than I expected. There are factors I didn't take into account.

The lonely afternoons, for example. Vis and Nat stay at the facility, and Sam, Tony and Cap turn up most days, but it's just not the same.

It's harder to talk to Pietro in my mind from this distance. Eventually, we give up completely. It's just too draining. 

Something else I didn't think about are the nightmares. I often wake up in the strange new bed, gasping, sometimes even screaming, after seeing images of our apartment being blown to bits, or Pietro, or someone else I love, dying. Items in the room that were previously on shelves or in draws end up lying around on the floor. It only takes one night for me to realise I'm losing control of my powers while I'm thrashing around. Pietro helped prevent this before. He can't do that anymore. 

Despite the frequent nightmares and as a result of the hot chocolate nights that follow, I can't keep myself awake. I have a lot of sleep to catch up on, and my body knows this.

So, every morning and in the middle of most nights, I wake up wrapped tightly in the blankets, sweat soaked, shaking and panting. Normally, there are tears, and, some nights, I end up on the ground.

No one knows, not even Pietro. If he finds out, he'll either demand I go back to the farm, or want to come here. I know he's happy with the Bartons. I don't want to ruin that for him. I don't want him to worry.

So I keep my nightly terrors a secret.

That is, at least, until he turns up.

I've just woken up on the ground after a nightmare about Nate. My covers are a mess, random items in the room are floating off the ground, and I'm surrounded by a red haze. I can barely contain my tears.

The man doesn't appear exactly. More like walk into view, like he was standing just outside my line of sight.

Everything looks red, so I can't really see him. When I do, I'm too upset to react. He stands over me, his black and green cloak swishing around his legs. My eyes travel to his face, framed by dark hair falling to his shoulders.

After a moment, he says, "So this is the child they call the Scarlet Witch."

"Who are you?" I ask, wiping my eyes.

 For some reason, he feels safe. I don't feel the need to call out, or tell someone that he's here. 

I try to listen in on his thoughts, but am met by a dead end. He has a strong mental block up.

"That won't work," he says quietly.

"Who are you?" I ask again, more confidently.

"I am Loki, of Asgard. I heard there was a new Avenger. I came to see if that was true."

"From New York," I remember. I recognise him now.

"The very same."

"You're supposed to be dead."

"Yet here I am."

I still don't feel threatened, though. I saw all the damage he can do on the TV in the bar closest to that month's orphanage, but I don't feel like he's here to hurt me. I somehow just know he really is just here to validate facts. The mental block lowers just enough for me to know he's telling the truth.

I try to wiggle my way in further, but the wall slams straight back up before I get very far.

"Not so fast," Loki tuts. He backs away, saying, "You can't tell anyone you saw me. Understood?"

"No, wait, don't go!" I gasp, struggling to my feet, "Don't leave me alone."

But it's too late. I blink, and he's gone.

Word count: 607