Word count: 2869

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Stella left the house the hour Wanda came back. Nobody really noticed, having been so deeply focused on the drama indoors. She didn't leave for long, not even a couple minutes, so she knew it wouldn't be that big of a deal. Even if someone did notice, she could tell them that she just wanted to go for a walk.

    She made her way to the woods. She figured that Pietro would like to hear that Wanda was back, but she also figured that he already knew.

    "Nobody followed me. You can come out," Stella says, sitting on a log.

    "I'm not hiding, Stella. I'm making sure you're alone," Pietro says calmly, stepping out from the woods and sitting on a log across from her. He had a spliff in one hand, between his index and middle finger. "What is it?"

    "She's back," Stella says in a sing-songy voice. "Your sister is back."

    "I know. I watched her car come in," he says, flicking his thumb against the filter to urge some of the burnt embers from the jay between his fingers before taking a quick drag. "You're supposed to be in there, not out here."

    He let the smoke escape his lips with his words before blowing the rest from his lungs.

    "C'mon, Piet, I missed you," Stella says. Pietro freezes up once she says this before immediately taking another drag, much longer this time. "You were my only friend for a bit."

    "You can't make friends with them," he replies, though he knew that wasn't what she had meant. He pauses his words to exhale the smoke. "This is a rescue mission, remember? We're getting my sister and after that, we're going back to the base. This isn't the time to align yourself with a new group."

    He takes yet another drag, holding it for a moment this time. Stella began to smell the smoke.

    "I thought I was supposed to make friends."

    "You're supposed to make them trust you. You're not supposed to trust them," he let out a small huff after this. There was an abnormal feeling in his head, like a little fizz in his brain. He attributed this to smoke, but it didn't feel like it usually did. He only then realized that his body was on autopilot, that he honestly had only been speaking whatever came to his mind, which seemed more like intrusive thoughts than actual, conscious thought. He slowly let out the rest of his smoke before immediately taking another hit.

    "How many of those have you had?" Stella asks. Pietro looks at the jay and shrugs.

    "Why does it matter?" He keeps smoking.

    "I only brought one pack. That shit's expensive," she says. "So how many have you had?"

    "This is my second since you left, okay?" He says. "You don't have to overreact."

    Stella sighs, "C'mere. Give it to me."

    Pietro rolls his eyes and hands it to her, "So— why are you here?"

    "To tell you that your sister's back," she takes a long, slow drag before handing the spliff back to him.

    "Well, now you've told me," Pietro says. "Now go back before they realize you're gone."

    "I'm sure I have a couple more minutes."

    As if on cue, a feminine voice calls out, "Julianna!"

    Pietro puts the spliff to his lips, shrugging as if to say that he had called it. He didn't breathe in, just keeping the rolling paper on his dry lips.

    "Go," he stands and starts to leave. "Good luck with your excuse."

    Pietro speeds off. The tiny stream of smoke from his jay dissipating as he leaves. As soon as the streaks following him fade, Natasha starts jogging that way. Stella stands up, starting to approach her.

    "Don't you want to meet Wanda?" Natasha asks before she gets closer, then her face scrunches up. "Ugh... were you smoking?"

    "Uh... yeah," Stella replies, taking Natasha's hand. Covering up for Pietro's smoking was an easy decision, but she was more disappointed that she only got one hit. "To both."

    Natasha shakes her head and starts walking back to the farmhouse. She was kind of suspicious about Stella now, seeing as she didn't realize that she had brought anything to smoke.

    When they came inside, everyone was gathered around in silence. Each had an anxious look on their faces, waiting to hear about Wanda. Steve and another man, whom Stella had seen arrive alongside Wanda, were the only ones not in the living room; they hid away in the kitchen, speaking quietly to one another. Stella bites her lip as she looks over.

    This is a rescue mission. This is a mission.

    She slowly approaches them, deciding to get some water and eavesdrop.

    "Sam, I'm worried about her," Steve says.

    "Don't be. I can hang around, give her someone to talk to. She really opens up when you make her comfortable," 'Sam' replies. "I think it would be best for you and the others not to confront her. You'll say the wrong thing, she'll panic and leave. She's fragile."

    Fragile? Please. Stella rolls her eyes. Without thinking, she retorts in reply, "I think she would more appreciate it if you don't talk about her like that."

    At this, Sam steps away from Steve. He says, "And who are you?"

    "My name is Stella," she replies. "You're Sam, right?"

    "Yeah," he leans against the counter. "You haven't met Wanda, right? I haven't heard about you from her."

    "No, I haven't," but she already knew more of her strength than they would be able to. "But I can make a lucky guess. You don't have to patronize her."

    She subconsciously leans against the counter as well, seen his relaxed stance as a power play.

    "I'm not patronizing her. I'm just saying-"

    "Well, don't," she interrupts. She sips her water and starts walking off.

    Sam was intrigued by her, but shook his head, "Is she always like that?"

    Steve responds with a shrug, "To be honest, I have no idea. The only ones who've really talked to her are Nat, Tony and Viz."

    Stella overhears this as well and takes a deep breath. She was overall frustrated, so she made the decision to take a moment to herself outside. As soon as she left the house, going onto the front porch, however, she heard someone behind her. She didn't have to turn, trusting that the only person who would trail behind her would be Natasha. When she sat on the porch swing, as expected, the redhead took a seat next to her.

    Soon after his smoke break, Pietro was standing near the edge of the woods, watching as best he could.

    He speeds in a little closer, waiting just behind the house, his shoulder against the wall, and trying to listen to the conversations inside through the doors and windows. A small break in the backdoor (it never fully closed; they had to duct tape it during the winter) allowed sound to travel in and out of the house. He heard indistinct and unimportant conversations going on inside. Reactions, recommendations, incorrect and unapologetic conversations that would usually make Pietro's blood boil, but he found his limbs jittering a little. He felt his energy build up in his muscles. He had smoked too much, and now he was getting anxious.

    He quietly cursed his jitteriness before cracking the door open just a little bit more. This caused all conversation inside to cease. He slowly stepped back from the door before the wind picked up. At first, it blew from the south, effectively being cut by the structure of the house, but it slowly shifted to blow in from the east, slowly opening the door. Pietro remained still and silent, hoping they would conclude that the wind had caused the door to open.

    He slowly crept back, away from the door. Despite his current state, this discovery was a revelation. The door didn't creak. It didn't snap closed. It just would swing...

    Without him telling his legs to do so, he ran. He hid for a moment as Clint comes out, inspecting the warm yet crisp dark air before shutting the door.

    The buzz in his head came back. His body still felt jittery, but more with excitement this time. He had never bothered to try the backdoor before; Stella would barely even let him leave the woods. Now he sped around the house, making a wide circle to continue evading sight. He stopped at the other side of the house, grinning widely. He stopped at the very edge of the woods again, unable to stop a smile from showing.

    He had a way to get her.

    Everyone had retired soon after the excitement. Stella was moved to sleep in one of the kids' room since Sam insisted on sleeping on the couch in her spot. The entire house was silent from the hours of 9 pm to 2:30 am, when Pietro decided to make his move.

    He entered the house silently. The door didn't creak. He didn't walk, but crawled to spread out his weight. The floor didn't creak.

    He managed to make his way up the stairs only stepping on the stairs which didn't make a noise (he had listened in as everyone had made their way up earlier that night).

    From there, Wanda's room was the second one on the left. He had seen her hexes in the window earlier that night, so he knew that was where she kept her clothes, at the very least.

    He slowly opened the door. It creaked slightly, but not enough to wake anyone.

    Pietro could hear his heart beat against his ribs as he enters. She was sleeping in his sweatshirt, and she seemed to be in deep sleep. He took a deep breath before smiling to himself. He kneels down next to her, wanting to be at her level. He hadn't seen her so up close in far too long.

    "Я сумував за тобою," he spoke quietly, his voice just below a whisper. "Ви не знаєте, як гордий я з вас..."

    I missed you. You don't know how proud I am of you...

    She didn't move, not shifting or waking up. Pietro slowly brushes her hair out of her face and places a kiss on her cheek. She still remained still, exhausted and needing the rest.

    "I'll get you out of here... we can go home," he says, speaking in English this time, since he imagined it had been a while since she had spoken in one of her native tongues. "To Sokovia..."

    This time, she shifts. As much as it pained Pietro, he stood up.

    "Я тебе люблю. Я скоро повернусь..." he stepped towards the door. "залишитися сильним для мене, ладно?"

    I love you. I will be back soon... stay strong for me, okay?

    Wanda shifted again upon hearing his voice. She then begins to open her eyes. Pietro hid just outside of her door before she could see him.

    "Hello?" Wanda asks tiredly. Upon hearing her voice, Pietro's heart beat twice as fast. He hears her bed squeak, like she was sitting up or moving. "Is someone there?"

    He puts his palm on his forehead, suddenly regretting coming. He could have blown his cover. The others could have known. Wanda could have seen him. Wanda could have seen him.

    Wanda couldn't see him.

    He hears her mattress squeak as she lays down again. Pietro sighs and slides down the wall, running one hand through his hair in an attempt to gather himself. He couldn't live like this. He was such a terrible brother... he had let her go weeks thinking him dead.

    He leaves the house again, much quicker this time. Now, though, he had an idea.

    He was going to speed up the process. He would wait until she was alone, then he would take her. She would be happy to be with him, right?

    Wanda felt groggy in the morning. She had a vague but terrifying memory in her head of someone hovering over her. They spoke to her in Ukrainian, which she hadn't heard nor spoken in weeks, but when she tried to look at them, the dark figure remained for less than a millisecond before disappearing. She couldn't get any more sleep that night, not sure if what she had seen was real or not.

    She laid there for maybe half an hour, running over the memory in an attempt that the figure would clear the more she thought about them. They wore all black and had a strangely familiar voice, like Pietro used to speak when he was scared. When she came to this revelation, she decided that she had to have made it up. She came to the conclusion that her subconscious was probably to blame... but he had said he was proud of her. That made her relax a bit.

    She didn't even get up when the sun rose. She stayed in bed, a childish fear in her head that if she got up, she would see the person again. It was probably all in her head; she had probably just had a weird dream.

    She got up only when she heard someone else in the hallway, not before. Even then, her heart pounded with fear...

    She slipped out of bed and peers into the hallway, seeing the blonde, Stella, standing in the hallway. She was admiring a painting on the wall, one which Lila and Laura had painted together a couple years prior. It was red and pink blobs above green lines, an abstract version of a flower. Lila had made the general shapes and Laura had shaded it, shaped it, and made it clearer. Wanda steps out of her room, taking a deep breath. Stella then looks over at the other girl on the other end of the hall.

    "Hey. Wanda, right?" She slowly approaches Wanda, extending a hand. Wanda slowly shakes her hand.

    "Yeah. You're Stella," Wanda observes in turn.

    "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard all about you," she pulls her hand away. "Nobody else is up, maybe we could make something to drink?"

    Stella had heard Pietro the night before. She had heard him open Wanda's door. She had let him see his sister, she knew he would have come to her eventually, but was planning on talking to him in private later that day.

    "Sure," Wanda replies. She smiles a little, and Stella notices that Pietro was right. She made her emotions very clear with her expressions. She smiled only with her lips, so Stella knew that her smile wasn't true. "How did you sleep last night?"

    "I slept pretty good," Stella starts leading Wanda to the kitchen. Wanda followed silently, allowing her eyes to wander a little. "Would you like coffee or tea?"

    Wanda was a little surprised by this question. For some reason, she figured that they didn't have any tea. She replies simply, "Honestly, tea."

    "English breakfast or earl grey?" Pietro had told her of Wanda's two favorite morning teas. She preferred to have chamomile late at night, when she couldn't sleep, but liked earl grey and English breakfast when the sun was rising.

    Wanda smiles to herself, "I like either. Which do you like?"

    Stella doesn't like tea.

    "English breakfast. I just know they have earl grey, that and chamomile, but chamomile is more of an evening drink."

    Pietro had mentioned to her earlier that whenever she came in, to make sure Clint bought some loose-leaf for Wanda. Stella had done this, having added it to Clint's grocery list earlier that week.

    Wanda was impressed by what Stella had said, "Really? Then let's make English breakfast."

    Stella smiles falsely at Wanda, going to the kitchen and pulling out the canister of the leaves, "I had Clint buy it two or three days ago."

    She handed the canister to Wanda, almost to tell her to make the tea. She had only had tea twice before, and never loose-leaf. She trusted that Wanda knew how to make it, so she allowed her to make it. Wanda now had a big smile on her face, and Stella had to admire it for a moment. Just as Pietro had said. Her entire face looked happy, "Wow... I haven't had tea in weeks..."

    Stella smiled a little to herself. She felt a kind of pride in making Wanda happy. Maybe Pietro had instilled this feeling in her, but it became clear why he had told her what Wanda liked and disliked. It gave you a good feeling to give her something she liked. She had tired eyes but a distinct and pleasure-filled smile. If it was so easy to make her happy, if it felt so good... she should keep doing it.

    "What would you want for breakfast? If you could have anything at all?" Stella asks.

    Wanda looks up at her, "What would you want?"

    "To be honest, whatever you want is perfect," Stella responds. This odd revelation made Stella understand so much more about Pietro. He cared so much because it made him feel good to make her smile. Stella wanted to feel good too.