Word count: 2275

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The sun was low in the sky. The cut on Wanda's arm was nearly healed, but she still wore a bandage around the scab so it wouldn't get irritated. It was May 19th, which was apparently Clint and Laura's 11th anniversary. To celebrate, they were having a barbecue outside. Cooper was currently showing off his musical skills on a guitar. He played a folksy song that was in his music book. Lila was crouched down on the other side if the giant bonfire from her parents, hoping they couldn't see her roasting a marshmallow an hour earlier than she was supposed to. Wanda was helping her, only because she knew Clint and Laura wouldn't care at all if Lila had an extra s'mores. Wanda was holding two graham crackers, each with a small square of chocolate on them. She was back to smiling. Yes, she had cuts and bruises show up every once in a while, but nothing very bad. Yes, she had some sleeping issues, but she was functioning.

    "Perfect!" Wanda says. "Pull it out now!"

    Lila nods quickly and does so. The marshmallow was on fire, but Lila had previously told Wanda that she liked it burnt. Wanda was grinning widely as Lila blew out the small fire, then quickly puts the marshmallow between the graham crackers and extracts the stick of metal from the blackened gooey mess. She hands the concoction to Lila and watched her hurry off to eat it.

    "You shouldn't help her behind my back," Laura says, walking around the fire once Lila had run away. "She's already got a sugar addiction."

    "Don't all children her age?" Wanda asks, sitting on a log nearby. Steve and Tony had cut down a couple trees for them, making seats out of the trunks. It, surprisingly, only took a couple hours to cut down a couple trees, cut out a few logs, and sand them down into seats. The rest of the trees were in the fire already, which was starting to come in handy. Fireflies were soothingly flying about, blinking and buzzing, but the cold was quickly approaching. Laura had warned them of this previously, so Wanda wore leggings... and another pair of leggings over those leggings. Her arms were starting to get cold, since she only wore one of her sleep shirts and not a jacket or anything warm.

    "You've got a point," Laura sits next to her. "But I would argue that we only have just enough marshmallows."

    "She can have mine," Wanda says, looking at the woman before her. Laura rolls her eyes.

    "No, she can't. She'll have nightmares if she has too much sugar before bed."
    At that, Wanda just nods. She didn't want to admit that she wasn't exactly a fan of s'mores. She and her brother had tried it once; obviously, he loved it. She didn't exactly like it, but she had also gotten hers caught on fire as Lila's had been. Maybe if she had it prepared a different way, she would feel the same way her brother did.

    A wind comes through. Not a breeze, but a wind. It breathed on the fire and made the chill Wanda had felt before intensify. By now, the sun was starting to set.

    A small blanket went over Laura's shoulders, which she took in her hands and pulled around her arms, smiling up at the man above her.

    "How are you two doing?" Clint asks, standing behind his wife and leaning to be just over her.

    "We're just lovely," she tips her head up and plants a kiss on his jaw, unable to reach his lips from the way he was standing. "What about you?"

    "I'm great. I have Cap covering the grill, Tony's arguing with him... everyone's nice and distracted."

    Wanda nods and looks around. Natasha was sitting with Cooper, listening to him trying to figure out how to strum a song unfamiliar to her. It was nice. She had a feeling that this time around, this time that she felt so calm and safe, this time, she wouldn't be hurt by some unforeseeable incident. Another wind comes through and she shivers again. She had gotten used to the warm and sometimes hot weather. At home, this chill would be considered a warm day.

    "Are you cold?" Clint asks.

    "A little," she says, beginning to stand up. "I'll go get a jacket, I'll be right back out."

    Steve had left the conversation with Tony at this point. As soon as Wanda said this, Steve jumps into the conversation, "You can stay here. I'll go get you a jacket."

    He gives her a smile before starting to walk off. Wanda sits down, watching the man hurry off. She looks to Clint and Laura. Clint had his arms around Laura, and he was swaying softly, as if they followed the beat to a soft piece of music. He had yet to sit down with her. The scene was kind of mesmerizing. Laura with her eyes closed, Clint looking at her face... Both had smiles on their faces. They looked at peace with each other, like they were still completely in love after 11 years of marriage.

    Wanda feels a jacket being placed on her shoulders, but a musky, familiar smell came from it, a scent that she had almost locked away in her memory. She froze for a moment as Steve sat beside her. She takes the jacket off of her shoulders and looks at the sleeves, seeing familiar arrows running down the arms.

    "Why did you get this?" She asks, not looking up from the jacket.

    "You were cold. It was sitting on your dresser, I assumed—"

    Wanda shakes her head before hugging the jacket close, beginning to ramble as she looks at the jacket, "This is Pietro's jacket, I gave it to him last year on our birthday, he loves this jacket, I can't—"

    "You're cold," Steve says, taking her hand. "Take a breath. He'd want you to use it."

    "I don't want to use it," she stands up quickly, though holding the jacket close to her. She could still smell her brother's musk in the fabric. It calmed her down a little to just stand there, inhaling his familiar scent from the jacket. Her eyes closed and she just kept holding it, not moving. She then slowly sits down again. Since she had been holding it, it felt warm now. She puts the jacket on, wanting to be wrapped up in him again. Whenever it was cold, he would just hold her to warm her up. He had done this since they were little. He was the protector. She was the one in need of protecting. The one moment where she should have protected him, she didn't.

    "Wanda...?" The way she had just gone silent and sat down was worrying Steve. It was like something had taken over her body. He didn't mean to upset it like that. "I can get you a different jacket, don't—"

    "Quiet," Wanda responds, pulling the zipper up. "Just... sit next to me, please?"

    Steve complies, then Wanda scoots close to him, taking his arm and wrapping it around her. Steve was surprised for a moment, but nobody seemed to be watching. Wanda leans into his side, closing her eyes and pulling the hood up. Steve felt warm, but he wasn't slim like Pietro. Pietro was a runner, he had strong, effective muscles that were aerodynamic. Steve... Steve wasn't that. He was more prone to attacking without needing to run. Wanda pulled the fabric closer, trying her best to feel him again.

    Tony was watching her, somehow knowing exactly what she was doing. Steve was looking down to Wanda, keeping an arm around her and gently rubbing her arm. Steve thought she was cold. Tony knew better. The only problem: he didn't know how to help her.

    Wanda looks just kept her eyes closed, listening, feeling, and imagining. She could almost imagine it. Pietro would be sitting with Cooper, trying to remember how to play guitar to help him. He would share anecdotes about how Papa had wanted both of them to know piano and guitar, but how they couldn't afford either, so they would just go to the high school, using the piano in the band room. They once came on a day where a junior was practicing guitar, so Pietro got to learn that for a day. Wanda was content just playing the piano because she was starting to learn how to play notes on two hands at once.

    Steve had shifted, thinking she was asleep and checking for a moment. Wanda opened her eyes and looked at him through her hood. Wanda then felt a tear passively drip from her eye, prompted by the chilly air and the smoke from the bonfire. She stands up, "I'm going to turn in. I'll see you in the morning."

    She could meditate. She had done it so well once that she almost went into another reality. Maybe she could think about Pietro while she meditated and maybe it would be like before, maybe she could see him, feel him, be with him. She glanced back to make sure nobody was following her, but saw Tony conversing with Steve. She then saw Steve look right at her, making eye contact. He then started walking towards the house.

    Wanda goes inside and starts going to her room. She looked around, thinking of how to get comfortable. She pulled a large pillow from the bed onto the ground and starts to get situated. She wanted to disappear for a moment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, starting to settle before the door creaked.

    "What?" She opens her eyes. Steve was leaning on the doorframe, looking worried.

    "Do you usually sleep like this?"

    Wanda stands up, "I'm not sleeping. I'm going to meditate."

    Steve then goes to the bed and sits on it, "What happened out there? You changed."

    "I was tired," she says. "What do you think happened?"

    "I think you put on your brother's jacket and tried to pretend that I was him," Steve says. "And that's not healthy, Wanda."

    She started glaring a little at Steve, "What do you mean by that?"

    "I mean that you're not moving on. You've obviously not accepted his death."

    "Yes, I have. I've accepted it. I just miss him," her voice wavered when she said 'miss'. Her hands began to tremble as emotion built up in her chest, spilling into her throat and creating a lump, which tried to choke her words.

    "You're in denial," Steve tried to keep his tone passive, knowing that she wasn't in her best mind. "We want to help you move on." This set Wanda off.

    "Why should I move on? I can't just move on from losing him!" She was balling up her fists at this point, though her expression held only fear. Her eyebrows furrowed, her teeth were gritted, her eyes had tears in them, threatening to reveal her true emotion. She was getting mad, but she was also devastated.

    "You need help. We're here to help you. If you need, Tony can hire a therapist for you," Steve says. "It worries us to see you like this."

    "I don't want help!" She shrieks.

    "You might not want it, but you need it," he walks over and tries to take her hands, but she stepped back.

    "I don't need help, then! I need space!"

    "We've been giving you space and it isn't helping," he reaches to take her hand again, trying to make her calm. Wanda just shook her head and walked past him, starting to leave the room. Steve follows still as she begins shouting.

    "Then give me more space!"

    "This is just making things worse," he grabs her wrist and a wave of force comes out from the contact, pushing him back a couple yards. She then grabs the keys to Clint's truck. This set off red flags in Steve's mind. "Where are you going?"

    "If you people won't give me space, I'll get it myself!" She shouts. Steve tries to go after her but little red hexes held onto his shirt, holding him back. She goes through the door and slams it, though it slowly drifted open again because of the faulty hinges. Just as she released Steve, she goes to the car, unlocking it and getting in. Steve began chasing after her, hoping to change her mind, but to nothing. Wanda began driving off, not intending on coming back that night. Maybe in the morning, she decided. She could go a couple miles, then pull over when she got tired and sleep.

    A couple hours past a couple miles in, she wasn't tired. It was nearly 2 am. She still had her blood boiling. Clint lived outside somewhere called Suffern Village in rural New York, and now, she was in Virginia. She was near Harrisonburg, but she was running out of steam. She was on an interstate at this point, so she pulls off at the next exit. She parks the car in a quaint parking lot, then turns the car off.

    Finally, she had gotten her wish. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. Surely, this is what she wanted. Surely, this was what she needed. It had to be, right?

    Wanda leaned the seat back to lay and closed her eyes, cuddling up in Pietro's jacket. The scent of him was lost on it; it now smelled of nothing but dust. Tears began in her eyes. He's gone. She told herself. All of him.