A/N: Shoutout to my readers. Ily all. Tag someone who you think will like this because I'm actually proud of this (which, for a 15-year-old, is super hard. Like, when was the last time you heard someone my age said they were proud of themselves for something?) so yeah.

Word count: 3591

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After running a couple more laps to clear his head, Pietro's shoes had been destroyed, so he couldn't run anymore. He was still thinking about what Stella had said, though he still didn't have the faintest grasp on what it could mean. That's when he took a punch, since Stella had landed a hit on the side of his head, right on his brow bone.

"C'mon! Focus!" Stella says, stopping. She had a thin layer of sweat on her forehead and shoulders when she stops swinging. Pietro hadn't actually been hitting her, but he had been tapping in places where he would hit, since he was obviously going to get more hits in than she would. He was allowed to use his powers, though Stella was not.

"Sorry..." he murmurs, though he looks at the spot where he had been hit. "That... oddly didn't hurt."

"Well, I'm not quite as strong as you, for one," the blonde replies. "Seriously. Just focus. As soon as we're done with this, we can go see your sister, okay? So let's finish this quickly."

Pietro takes a deep breath and nods. Stella then reaches into her boot, pulling out a small switchblade. He furrows his eyebrows, "Wait, are we—"

"Taking it up a notch? Yeah," she says, flicking her wrist to extend the blade. "Just don't get stabbed, okay?"

Stella swings at him and Pietro quickly ducks, the blade going over his head. He taps a couple spots on her, since he, again, wasn't supposed to actually punch her. He goes back to normal speed and Stella tries to stab him again, this time, managing to knick him. The little knife cuts through his shirt and a bit of his skin, right on his arm, next to his shoulder. He goes back into speed to inspect his wound, but oddly, there wasn't any blood. He quickly grabs the knife out of Stella's hands and throws it in a different direction, then returning to normal. The cut was deep, but the lack of blood greatly worried him.

"Hey, you can't just-"

"What's going on here?" He points to the spot on his arm. "There isn't any blood."

"Well, you kinda did come back from the dead like yesterday," Stella says. Pietro snaps his head to look at her, giving her a baffled expression, mostly surprised at how calm and nonchalant she was. "Seriously. I'm sure it's just a side effect of you being alive again."

"Where is my blood, then?"

"Your blood? I don't know," she says. "Maybe the scratch isn't deep enough."

Pietro just stares at her, "Are you serious?"

"Listen, I'm not a doctor," she defends. "I'm only here to accommodate you, bud. My guess is it has something to do with the magicky stuff they did to you."

"Magicky stuff?"

"Yeah. Some sorcerer or something came in and said some stuff and burned some stuff and you're alive now," she says. "I don't know how it happened, so don't go off on me."

Pietro just sighs, "I'm done training. I think we should have that drink now..." he walks off, starting to take off his shirt so he could wear something without any rips in it.

"I'll be outside, I guess," she says.

As Pietro walks to what was practically a locker room, he starts thinking again. He would get to see Wanda soon, but what would that entail? Would she even want to see him after he left her like that? How was he supposed to explain all the weird side effects like the bloodless cut? Plus, he's been drinking... how would she react to that? Even worse, how would she react to knowing that he waited a full day before seeing her? How would she react to meeting Stella? Would she even meet Stella?

The thoughts made him kinda sick. This whole situation was so messy, and he wasn't doing anything to make it better. The night before had been fun, but it just made everything worse... he had made everything worse. What if Wanda hated him for everything he had done? What if she hated him for waiting, for lying, for... for everything? What if he lost his little sister?

Pietro just sighs and pulls a new shirt on. He leaves the locker room and sees Stella standing there, waiting and wearing a sundress.

"For someone whose power is literally super speed, you take a long time to change into the exact same shirt you just had on," she teases. She then takes notice of his dour expression and thinks for a minute. He needed to stop worrying, and maybe drinks and spliffs couldn't do that... "I'm limiting you to one drink and one cigarette as long as you're bummed like this, okay? Sad drinking doesn't do anyone any good."

Pietro watches as the girl extends a hand to him. He gently takes her hand, "Thank you."

"No problem, bud," she says. "And if you want, we can try to find someone for you to bring back to your room. I overheard the doctors say that your sex drive should kick up soon."

"Ugh... that just sounds weird coming from you," Pietro visibly cringed. He wasn't sure why, he just didn't want to hear her even mention sex, especially his sex drive. Stella raised an eyebrow, but takes his hand.

"C'mon. Let's go," she says, starting to lead him away. Pietro follows, keeping his hand in hers.

"So... what do you know about my being back?"

"Not much," she shrugs. "I know that you won't be seeing any negative effects of anything for a couple weeks. That's probably why you didn't bleed when you got cut. That's probably also why you weren't hungover this morning, and why you don't get sore."

"Why am I not getting any negative effects?" He asks.

"As I told you before, magicky stuff. If I'm being honest, I don't think you even have to eat or sleep."

Pietro thought about this for a moment. That could be good. He could drink, he could smoke, he could stay up all night... he didn't have any limitations. This could be good for him. He could cope however he wanted and nothing bad would happen. He started to grin, "How long will this last?"

"Again, a couple weeks," she says. "The docs projected it would last until at least the end of the month."

A month. This month could be fun. Plus, he would get to see his sister again. That would be nice. He imagined that she missed him... he imagined she would be happy to see him. He imagined she would cry with joy and have that perfect little smile he knew so well. She would hug him and tell him all about what he missed and he would listen and kiss her head and everything in the world would be right again. His little sister would finally have her big brother (twin brother, technically, but he was twelve minutes older. He counted it as being older, though Wanda used to point out that that doesn't mean he's more mature).

Stella saw that he was in deep thought and smiled, since he looked hopeful.

"C'mon, you're taking too long," she grabs his sleeve and starts leaving. Pietro follows, a hopeful grin still idly remaining on his lips.

Two hours in and Pietro had picked up blackjack. His money wasn't his, it was HYDRA's, so he didn't have anything to lose. He had Stella sitting on his lap and one of her cigarettes, which turned out to actually be some kind of weird spliff, between his lips as they get served another hand. He hated the smell of the smoke, he had since he was little, but he was just barely high enough to not care about it. He had already won $5,000 in seven rounds (he had lost the first two, but now he was on a winning streak) and he had no intention of stopping. Stella had her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder.

The dealer across the table from Pietro kept eyeing him, but not like he expected from his gambling opponent. He was kind of... checking him out. His eyes were unreadable, but they did travel around his body, not just his expression. It gave Pietro an odd feeling, but he kind of liked it. He then handed Pietro the deck of cards to cut, and Pietro does so, going in about the middle of the deck. The dealer watched his hands with a look of interest, though he runs a hand through his short, curly hair.

Stella stands up from his lap, since her glass was empty. She looks at him, "Want anything else, bud?"

The dealer's eyes looked at Pietro again as he puts a plastic piece in to separate some of the cards. Pietro heard her question, but didn't say anything. He glances at the dealer again, who was looking at him almost expectantly.

"Well? Stop the side glances and answer my question," she says. The almond-skinned dealer chuckles softly at her, though Pietro's face heated up, something it had never really done before.

"I would recommend just a gin and tonic. It's simple, but the kind they have here is good," the dealer says. Oddly, this was the first time Pietro had heard him speak. His voice was smooth and even (and surprisingly deep).

"Then I'll have a gin and tonic," Pietro says, putting on his smug expression again. The dealer looks down at the cards and Stella walks off.

Pietro takes another hit of the spliff before putting it out in a small ashtray. Most of it had gone to waste, but it tasted pretty cheap, so he didn't feel bad. Plus, it had done its job. Pietro was actually calm. His energy had been tamed and his nerves were soothed. He waited for the usual nausea to hit him, but it didn't. For the next month, he could do this every day without consequence, without even the usual nausea of a cheap jay. The thought brought another smile to his lips. When he looked up, he saw the dealer smiling too.

"You know, you still haven't told me your name," Pietro says.

"Declan," he says. The speedster couldn't help but notice how he looked when he smiled. He looked flirtatious. "But you can call me whatever you want."

Pietro felt his face heat up again, another odd feeling arising in his chest. He was oddly flattered, "Well, I'm Pietro."

Declan extends a hand, which Pietro shook. When Pietro pulled his hand away, Declan leans on the table to get more comfortable, "Are you from around here?"

He hadn't yet dealt the cards, and Pietro honestly didn't mind. It didn't seem like there would be any more card games.

"No. I'm from an area near Greece and-" he pauses. "I'm from Sokovia. You've probably heard about it in the news, yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I've heard about it."

Sokovia was greatly unknown before the incident. He always had to explain the location, since half the non-Sokovians he had talked to had never heard of the country. It was surprisingly eye-opening, but now, he supposed it was on the map...

"Yeah. I just moved here from there," he says. "I'm hoping to meet up with my sister soon, and the woman who's taking a while to get me a drink has promised that I may see her today."

"Really? What's her name? I've talked to some Sokovians who came through, maybe I saw her," he says. Stella returns with a drink.

"What's whose name?" She asks, oblivious. "Me?"

"His sister," Declan replies. Pietro feels a sting in his chest. He heard a new tone in the man's voice. Pietro takes the drink from Stella, watching Declan, who now looked more interested in Stella now. It may have just been him overreacting, but he didn't like it at all.

"Actually, maybe we should just go back, yeah? We should get back on the road," Pietro says. He didn't like the way Declan was looking at Stella, and he wanted to leave. He didn't know if it was for selfish reasons or for Stella's sake that he felt so strongly, but he couldn't help how he felt. Now that the dealer wasn't paying attention to him, the fun of the afternoon seemed to melt away.

"Are you sure? We could have another night like last night, we can do the same thing," she says. That made Pietro sick for some odd reason. The question arises in his mind again, but what truly made him feel angry was one word: same.

He had been alive for one day, and he already felt trapped. Messing around with money and cards was fun, dancing was fun, the drinks, the spliffs... it all was fun, but the word "same" implied something that made him feel terrible.

"No."

Same. This wasn't the same. None of this was the same. He was starting a whole new life, a whole new chance to change the world, and so far, everything was the same, but worse. He still had the same anger issues, he still had the same obsessive and self-destructive tendencies, but he didn't have his sister to calm him. He still didn't have his sister. He couldn't make this his new "same", his new monotony.

He drinks some of his drink before placing it on the table, "We're going to her now. Lead the way."

Stella sighs and stands up, though flashing the dealer one last glance, "Thanks for the cash."

Declan nods politely at her, though eyeing her a little. Pietro picks up Stella and speeds to the base again, leaving behind a trail of wind that made the cards go everywhere. He caught a glance of them on his way out but otherwise didn't care.

He soon stops inside the base, starting to change clothes and throwing his old ones in his locker. Stella watches him with an odd look in her eye.

"What?"

"Are you flexing on me, bud?"

"Am I what?" Pietro asks, pulling on a black and grey henley shirt. "Go change. I want to give Wanda a good impression of you. I think you two would get along."

"From what I've seen, I don't think we will. I think she's a bit more... timid... than I am," she replies, though looking around the locker room. "You know, women aren't allowed in here."

"Really? Why?" He was using a mirror to style his hair a little. He was shaking a little. All of his emotions were flaring at once and he didn't know how to show them. He was living in the moment, though the moment was plagued by his jitteriness. It seemed all the good that the spliff had done had gone away.

"Because HYDRA doesn't like women," she says very simply. "Those misogynists didn't even give us a locker room. There are only about five women in the whole organization."

Pietro looks over, "No, that can't-" a look from Stella was enough to assure him. "Huh."

"Five that know we are HYDRA, at least. The others still think we're a division of SHIELD," she says. "And I honestly don't understand them."

"Aren't you one of this women?"

"Not really. I have my own reasons," she says. "As I said before, the Avengers ruined my life, but you don't get detail about that until you unlock my deep and depressing backstory. I joined to put them to justice. I vowed to myself that I would leave this place as soon as I was done with the experiments. Now, it seems I'll be leaving with you."

Pietro nods slowly, smiling softly. His nerves were calmed. The conversation was small and trivial; he didn't plan on returning to HYDRA anyway, especially now. What happened with Declan had been shoved aside in his mind to give more room to the anticipation of seeing his sister. He closes the locker door, "So, are we taking a car or am I running?"

"Are you kidding? We're taking a jet. Now c'mon, bud. We're three hours away and we still have to get dinner," she says, starting to leave the locker room. Pietro follows, smiling. "Want another cigarette?"

"Maybe later," he says. "Speaking of, I usually feel nauseous after having one of those, what type of-"

"Magicky stuff," she says, no sense of malice or snappiness in her voice, more general annoyance. That made Pietro suspicious.

"What's the tone for?"

"There isn't a tone," she replies, genuinely hoping he would drop the subject. She tried to act nonchalant, though the way he was speaking made her nervous. He actually wanted to know. How could she steer him off of this path?

"You sound annoyed," he thinks for a minute. Stella still hadn't told her what the mmagicky stuff' had done exactly. "Does it have something to do with the magic?"

Stella didn't respond.

"Well, Stella?"

She walks to the hanger, going to a jet, "I'll tell you on the way."

Pietro follows quickly, worried now, "Why? Is there something you don't want me to know?"

"No shit, genius," she says. This causes Pietro's eyes to roll.

"What is it?"

Stella pulls a lever on her way to the jet, then a wall starts opening up for the jet to fly from. She goes to a certain jet and presses a code into it.

"Stella, just answer me and I'll stop asking."

"There are drinks on the jet. Have a few and I'll tell you," she responds, acting as though she was exasperated. A panel on the jet comes out, supplying a small stair system for Pietro to walk up. He goes onto the jet and Stella follows, then the stair system retreats into the jet.

Pietro goes to the back, where there was a small fridge and some drinks. He grabs a small bottle and pulls out a glass for him to pour his drink into.

"You can't handle that," she says. He hears her mutter a soft, "lightweight..."

He puts it up, "You know what? I beat you repeatedly in training. Tell me what they did or I might have to beat it out of you."

"You're all bark and no bite, Pietro. If I've learned one thing from the past 36 hours, it's that," she says. She goes to the pilot's seat and presses a couple things, so the plane could be remotely piloted. They had a man who was going to pilot the ship without actually being on the ship.

"Then just tell me or I'll annoy the hell out of you."

"You're already doing that," she pulls out another pack of spliffs, pulling one out and placing it between her lips. Pietro speeds over and pulls it away.

"No distractions. Just talk. Tell me."

"Fine, fine. They did this weird thing on you where whenever you needed blood or needed some immune thing, it would be taken from your sister. The doctors took some of her blood and gave it to you, about two pints, I think. They also took some of whatever keeps her healthy, enzymes or whatever, and put it in you. The rest was via magic. That's why you didn't bleed, because she's the one who would be bleeding."

Pietro took a deep breath. To be honest, he had expected worse. He had expected much, much worse. He was back, and as much as he was sure that Wanda would have been proud to give a little in exchange for him, the idea of her being injured because of him made him sick. Later on, he would look back on this thought with disgust. Why should she be proud of giving blood for him? She was more important than he ever was. He must have still been tipsy.

"However, she doesn't know you're alive. I know it'll be hard, but you can't interact with her for a while. You can watch her, but she can't know you're alive until you get the thumbs up from HYDRA. If we want to save her from the Avengers, then we can't let the Avengers know about you," she says.

"What?" His tone was stern, though laced with confusion.

"They can't know about you. I'm going to sneak into their little group, okay? They don't know me. I'll push them away from her, break her bonds, then you can swoop in and convince her to leave. If you straight up take her, she might think something's up with you. She has to want to leave."

He paused, thinking to himself. It was manipulative, but then she would be safe and away from them, and she would willingly come to him... they could go home. They could leave this garbage country, go to Novi Grad again. He had become so used to English that it was almost automatic, so he knew it was time to return home. The thought of not talking to her killed him... he couldn't live with that, but he would have to.

"Stella, that sounds like it... it just might work," he says, looking at her with a smile. "Thank you."

Stella beams at him. He thought she looked pretty cute when she smiled like that; it wasn't overconfident, it was half-mocking joy. The smile then dies down to the smile she usually had, then to a confident smirk.

"Of course it's a great idea, it's mine."

And she's back to normal.