Word count: 2181

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Stella had made Wanda breakfast. She had given her tea (with two sugars and a splash of milk, like Pietro had told her was her favorite). Pietro had watched it all from nearby, hiding near the house. He couldn't hold back a smile when he saw her eyes light up. Seeing the two getting along made him happier than he could ever describe.

    He had noticed that Wanda seemed a little sick. She was getting thinner, like she hadn't been eating much, though he knew that wasn't the case. She would attend almost every dining occasion they held, from suppers to snacking... it did, however, concern him.

    She was laughing with Stella, holding a mug-occupied hand between her breasts, on the flat spot between them, like it was feeling her own heartbeat through her ribcage. He knew she usually did this when she was nervous. It made sense that she would assume this position, since she usually was nervous meeting new people.

    He found himself smiling a little more. He would, after all, get to speak to her in a couple days. Until then, watching her through windows, from behind bushes... sneaking into her bedroom... it was enough.

    Pietro saw her laugh at something Stella had said, nearly spilling her drink. She had scrunched her nose up and he knew that he had taught Stella well.

    He then slowly stepped back into the forest, still smiling to himself. He sat down on a log, still fairly close to the edge of the wood. He pulls a small box out of his pocket, a pack of Stella's spliffs. He pulls one out, looking through the window again. Sam, the man he had seen before, got up from the couch and joined the girls in their chatter. Pietro's eyes went to him instead. He puts the spliff between his lips, continuing to watch Sam.

    He pulls a lighter from his pocket, finding it oddly hard to look away from Sam this time. He looks down before activating the lighter and using the flame to light the spliff. He waited a moment for the rolling paper to catch before taking a slow and deep drag, his eyes going up to see Sam again. That man made him feel something. Maybe it was distrust, but it made him feel almost sick to his stomach. Whatever emotion he felt, it was ugly. He had a feeling that this feeling wouldn't go away anytime soon either.

    His smoke went down the wrong pipe. He began coughing, covering his mouth and trying to be quiet. This guy inside had distracted him. He took another hit, more focused this time. His mind was getting foggy. The buzz in his head came back, making him feel a little mad at Sam. This feeling, though, soon left him.

    Wanda coughs for a moment and puts her mug down, then grabs her tea again; Pietro attempted to read her lips as she spoke, but only caught 'sorry', 'not sure' and 'dry'. He tilts his head curiously at her as he took the jay between his fingers. He began to speak to himself, since nobody was around to hear him nor care that he was doing so.

    "Why are you—" he stops, noticing how it had come out in English. He silently cursed himself again. He took one quick puff, more from frustration than anything. "Чому ти це робиш?"

    Why are you doing that?

    He then sees her smile. The conversation was continuing inside and he couldn't make out a single word of it. He sits down on a stump, putting the filter between his teeth and allowing it simply to rest there. He kept gazing through the window, an apathetic expression occupying his face. Burnt flakes drifted onto his shorts. Now he could only see two figures through the window: Stella and Sam. He slowly and deeply inhaled the smoke again. There was shifting inside. To him, however, everything was hazy. He couldn't focus on anything. He didn't mind, since he didn't particularly want to focus on anything. He didn't want to think either. He just wanted to watch the people inside, watch them shift.

    Then he stood. He felt a slight tingle on his arm, where he had light scratches. They turned white for a moment before quickly fading. It was just an annoying knick from a particularly prickly bush next to him. He pulled the jay from between his lips, releasing his breath slowly before his eyes drifted. Wanda stood in the window now, alone. She was inspecting a spot on her arm, where a thin knick sat, oddly in the same pattern as his spot was going to be. He narrows his eyes to try and focus better, "Huh..."

    The knick didn't break the skin, just creating a faint white trail where the skin was irritated. Pietro watches as Wanda shakes it off.

    Then, a faint memory arises in his mind. Oddly, he hadn't put much thought into it, but Stella had previously mentioned that whenever he needed anything, it would be taken from Wanda. He was high when he was told, so the thought hadn't really meant anything to him, but now it suddenly clicked.

    "Ой дерьмо..." he murmurs. "дерьмо, дерьмо, дерьмо...."

    Oh shit...

    She was so skinny because he had been given the energy she gained from eating. She was losing weight because of their weird connection.

    Pietro sits down with this revelation. He was at fault. It was his fault.

    He is a terrible brother.

    Wanda woke up the next morning quite early. She had a faint memory of something scratching against her cheek and hearing a formal apology muttered in Sokovian in the same voice from the night before, but softer. Her dreams felt vivid, but she was sure it was just some subconscious issue. She was sure the dreams would go away soon enough. It would have been ridiculous of her to think there was someone in her room. That just didn't make any sense.

    She wasn't tired or anything. Usually, it felt as though her night's rest had gone to nothing. She had gotten used to this feeling, but now... it was almost new for it to be gone.

    She stood up. The first thing she did was open the blinds, more to tell the time than to invite in the light.

    The sun wasn't yet up. The sky was a purplish navy, a brighter shade to the east; her window faced south, so she could see the full spectrum of west to east.

    Before the sky could become cotton candy shades, she made her way downstairs. She was feeling great, so she decided to make everyone else's morning a bit better.

    Sam was still sleeping on the couch, but he tended to wake up with a good attitude if breakfast was in the process. Steve had told her that during one of their chats earlier, and the day before had proven this correct. Stella didn't seem to be awake yet, since her door was still closed.

    She began to hum to herself as she inspects the cabinets, pantry and fridge. She felt much better than she had the day before. Maybe now that the stress of returning was gone, she was better rested. After all, she felt her movements to be much easier. Before Pietro died, she could move without feeling tired. It seemed she was returning to that.

    That made her smile a little more. Yet again, his name had come to her mind and she found it comfortable. He was a memory. She was starting to accept his death. Yes, the word 'death' itself made her feel uncomfortable, especially when used in the context of her brother's state, but it didn't matter. It bothered her before he died anyway.

    "Auntie Wanda?" A young voice says from the stairwell. Cooper was awake. He had already combed his hair, as evidenced by the small streaks left by a wet comb. Wanda had assumed based on numerous instances like this that he enjoyed getting up early, even if he wouldn't admit it.

    "Good morning," she smiles softly. "How are you?"

    "I'm good," the eleven-year-old says, walking over. "Can I help?"

    "Help with what?" Wanda asks. She was still standing at the door of the fridge.

    "Breakfast," he replies simply. "What are you making?"

    Wanda smiles a little to herself, "Well, I haven't decided yet. What would you want?"

    This made him pensive. Cooper looked around for a moment before saying, "What about French pancakes?"

    "French pancakes?" Wanda asks, trying to figure out what that would be before Laura descended the staircase.

    "He means crepes," she held Nathaniel in her arms. He was leaning against her, looking around the room. Wanda smiles a little upon seeing the bairn, waving. Nathaniel doesn't wave back but grants her a toothless smile. "And we can make crepes. Wanda, would you watch over Nate?"

    Wanda nods and walks to her, taking the babe from Laura's arms and cradling him as Laura goes to the pantry to get the ingredients. Sam had managed to sleep through this, but what woke him instead was the floor creaking near the edge of the rug. Wanda leaves through the front door, going to the front porch to enjoy the warmth. A euphoric feeling flooded her mind as she looks up at the pink sky. She held Nathaniel close to her, letting him play with her hair while she silently awes.

    Late May usually bought her this feeling of completion. When she was in high school, it was because she was usually so close to being out of school. Sokovian seasons were also fucked up, so late May was when the snow began to melt and heat surfaced. Once, it was warm enough where you could swim in the river every day for a month. There would be farming festivals. The peach trees near the border between Sokovia and Greece would always bloom Sokovia was in the mountains, so it was much colder than the surrounding countries. She and her mother had a tradition where they would pick 20 of the largest peaches they had and make as many pies as they could in 12 hours.

    She begins rubbing Nathaniel's back gently, smiling to herself. It should be May 25, so Sokovia should be warming up. Maybe she should return to Sokovia... Novi Grad was destroyed, but she could help them. She could volunteer, and her powers would make building or helping out in other fashions quite easy.

    The purples of the sky faded into gentle pinks, and the breeze gently shifted the leaves. The pure serenity of the area made Wanda smile a little. She had options. She could volunteer in Sokovia, she could sit and listen to the birds, she could do anything. She even had people who would come with her and help her do whatever she decides on. Nathaniel yanks on her hair and shocks her back into reality. She looks at him.

    "Well, that was rude," she gently shifts the little amount of hair he had. She then hears the front door creak open. Her captain walks out, holding two mugs of something.

    "You never told us that you liked tea more than coffee. We would have gotten you tea earlier," he sits down on a piece of porch furniture, handing her one mug of tea. "You're up early."

    "I couldn't stay in bed," she responds simply. "See, I was going to make breakfast but it turns out I'm not..." she tries to find the words. The phrasing existed in Sokovian, but it would be nonsense here. "I'm not as in charge as I thought I was."

    Steve chuckles softly, "I get it."

    Wanda sips her tea, quite thankful that Steve had brought it to her. Nathaniel squirms a little in her arms. She puts the tea down and adjusts him to give him a more comfy area to rest.

    Steve watches her, tilting his head a little. He couldn't help himself from smiling a little when he watches her look back up at him. The light in the sky was a pale mix of pink and orange, and the way Wanda's eyes reflected it ever so gently pulled him in. He then notices something: her eyes weren't tired.

    "How did you sleep last night?" He asks. She looked refreshed.

    "Really well," she says, like she had almost been waiting for the question to come up. Her tone held excitement, her face lit up a little. "I've been having trouble sleeping since Pietro passed, but I'm honestly feeling much better."

    "Really? That's good," he leans against the arm of the porch chair. "And why do you think that is?"
    Wanda shrugs softly before looking around again, "I think I'm just starting to feel much better."

    It was true. There was no simple explanation for it. She had already found herself moving on from the loss of her brother, and now her body was finally catching up with her mind. That was the only plausible explanation.

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A/N: We got some happy Wanda in! Next few chapters will also have some more happy Wanda.

Finals are in 2 weeks so I imagine that I won't be that active during that week, but I will then be out for summer which means I'll be able to write more!