n i n e t e e n / dream of me

"I wish there was a way for them to find us," Cara whined to Wanda a few hours later, after the silence grew to be too much for her. "Can't they, like, track us, or something? Isn't Tony into that type of thing?"

"Stark?" Wanda tilted her head in Cara's direction, amusement playing on her elegant features. "Even he wouldn't put a tracker on us. He's not that nosy, though I wouldn't put it past him in certain circumstances." But she shook her head, shooting down the option. 

Cara felt her chin hit her chest in defeat. It'd felt like so long since they'd been stampeded back into their new cell, the one that was no doubt impenetrable to any forces they might think of throwing at it. And it wasn't as if they hadn't already tried. Wanda, being the only one with skills other than physical combat, attempted to shatter the glass, but to no avail. Her efforts didn't last long after that.

Still, the teen couldn't get the look of that man--Bucky--out of her head. His eyes haunted her when she closed her eyes wearily, and the tension in his stance spoke volumes to her. Obviously, he didn't want to be there, controlled like he was. But it seemed as if he didn't know that that was what he wanted. Like a part of his mind had been washed away, and only small fragments remained.

"That's not what it's like, that's what it is," Wanda said.

"What? Oh," Cara flushed angrily, "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't look inside my head anymore, Wanda!"

The girl blushed, and held up her hands in surrender. "I am sorry," she apologized, her accent rolling the words around her tongue in a genuine manner, "but what do you expect me to do for the time being, invade my own thoughts?"

"Yes," Cara snapped, mentally exhausted. "Or look inside someone else's brain, just not mine!"

"Well, how do you expect me to do that?" Wanda crossed her arms, anger flaring up.

"I don't know, I'm not the freak with weird powers or--" Cara's hands flew to her mouth, eyes widened in horror at the words she'd just spoken. 

Wanda stared back at her, hurt shining in her eyes like a glass barrier separating the two of them. "Is that what you think of me?" 

"Oh, god, no, Wanda, absolutely not, I didn't mean it--"

"It must have had some meaning, or it wouldn't have come out of your mouth." The brunette let her cascading hair fall over her face, and she slid down to sit on the floor again, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

"But it's true, I don't know why I said that, I'm just stressed, and I want to get out of here--"

"You think I don't?" Wanda shot back furiously. "You're not the only one with someone to go back to. Or maybe you've forgotten, as you've obviously been too infatuated with Steve to realize that I've got my own flesh and blood waiting for us to come home, or at least communicate with him. Pietro is the only true family I have left." She let out a small sob. "We are each other's hope. And whether or not you'd like to admit it, we need to work together in order to get back to our friends."

Cara blinked, taken aback by Wanda's powerful words. "You--You're right," she ducked her head, ashamed of herself. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, but the words reached Wanda's ears. "We should be working together to get home."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, which turned out to be only...half awkward. The other half was filled of thinking of all the possible ways they could reach Steve, Pietro, and the others. The ideas were rather scarce.

"What if we--never mind," Cara would stumble over her words, the plan developing in her brain as she said it. When it reached a certain point, she'd realized the mistake or the obvious fault in it, and called it off. 

Wanda was stuck in thought, and hadn't said anything. In fact, it seemed as if she hadn't been listening at all.

"Wanda?" Cara asked.

"Shh," she held up a hand sharply, squeezing her eyes shut. 

Cara rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I thought we were going to...how did you put it? Work together?" 

"Shh," Wanda warned, and said, "I'm concentrating."

"On what?"

"It's harder to implant ideas when someone's sleeping."

-

Steve tossed and turned in his sleep, rolling back and forth on his mattress. He'd cried his eyes dry, and no one was surprised, or offended, when he'd locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. He just couldn't handle facing anyone, not when the woman he loved was gone, possibly dead.

He kept telling himself that he couldn't think that way, that it would only infect his brain and delay their finding the girls more than his hiding already was.

But as he lay there, caught in a dream, he felt as if his mind had been infected for awhile. 

Poisoned with Cara's love.

Her fingers were splayed over his abdomen, causing his muscles to contract with the pleasure of having her skin against his. Smirking at her effect on him, she closed the distance between them with a long, loving kiss, and sucked on his bottom lip like it was a lollipop. 

He felt his hands skirt around to the hem of her shirt, his fingertips brushing her skin. She shivered underneath his touch, and sighed into his mouth before trailing kisses away from his mouth, along his jaw, and over to his ear, where she tugged on the lobe, causing a moan to fall from his lips.

"I love you, Steven Grant Rogers."

He was just about to reply when two words interrupted his thoughts sharply.

Steve.

Help.

"What?" He said aloud in his dream, confused.

"I love you," Dream Cara replied, kissing him again.

But the words came again, a voice other than Cara's.

Steve. We need your help. Cara and I are alive. You will find us in the middle of the ocean, on an island long forgotten. We don't know the coordinates, but we trust you to find us. We need your help. 

We need your help...

We need your help...

The words pounded inside his brain, and Dream Cara faded away, her touch falling away from him. 

But he awoke in a cold sweat, and gasped for breath, the voice--Wanda's--still loud and clear in his brain.

And though it was the middle of the night, he launched himself out of bed and proceeded to pound on everyone's doors, upsetting almost everyone.

Especially a particular doctor and messy-haired redhead, who came cursing out into the living room. 

"This better be good, Rogers," she grumbled.

"It is," he promised, and clapped his hands together, wide awake compared to the yawning superheroes in front of him. 

"I know how to find them."

[wooooooo update muah love you all]

if you wanna read about my hoco experience go check out HOE CO in my rant book