- CHAPTER ONE -
❝ THE AFTERMATH ❞

IT must've been the pure adrenaline rushing through her veins that sent her brain straight into flight or fight mode, and instinctively, Wanda's default was fight. Always fight, flight made you weak, made you prey. She was not prey.

The comedown was not as relieving as she had assumed, though. The whole battle she spectated with a scarlet tinge coating her vision it anger. She barely caught the sight of Tony Stark with the stones slotted neatly into his infamous suit, the pure power of it searing through his skin as it sent bolts of energy frying his arm. It was with an affirming clench of his teeth, he snapped his fingers, and the world seemed to pause.

She never knew Stark that well, her initial thoughts of him growing up were clouded with fury as he was the one responsible for his parents death, in her mind at least. Sometime after her brothers death, he had crept into the room he had provided her, which she hesitantly accepted, not wanting to owe the man anything.

He rushed a sincere apology, assuring her she could live in peace now, that he would cover any and every finance necessary. It infuriated her to no end, her family was dead, they were gone, completely. And he thought she could live in peace? That money was her only problem in life? She was too numb to snap, to do anything, she just stared at him, a distant look in her eyes as he frowned, ducking out of the room.

So no, she had never been close to Tony Stark, but she had heard stories. So many stories. And eventually, they had shed the hatred between them. Never friends, but civil, acquainted, if you will. It struck a nerve in her seeing the man in the state of life draining from him, and her heart cracked ever so slightly as she watched the wave of grief crash over her teammates. She was familiar with grief, and she hated that it was coming for them again.

Amongst all of the emotions, her own grief had been lost somewhere in the storm, her mind practically buzzing with adrenaline, nerves fried as she remained in hyper-vigilance unknowingly.

She stumbled over to where many of the recognizable avengers were gathered, and inclined her head in respect as she heard his wife, Pepper, and Spiderman utter their last goodbyes to Stark. Watching on numbly, she felt as reality banged into her harshly, almost knocking her completely off balance.

And as the final breath of life was drained from him, a sob torn out from Pepper's throat distantly piercing her ears, a silence overcome the battlefield. It was a loud silence, louder than the heavy breathing coating it.

Nimble fingers raised to her face, tracing across her cheek down to her neck absent-mindedly as she grounded herself, the protection of adrenaline wearing away as the exahusting slammed into her weakened frame.

Honestly, she didn't know what to do, the reality of it all was harsh , and the only thing she could process was her body's desire for sleep, her legs threatening to buckle and send her kneeling into the rubble. The metallic, unmistakable of smell blood infiltrated her senses, and she cringed, trembling hands wiping away the sweat in her palms on her dirty trousers.

Her hands fell limp by her side, and her gaze flitted around, waiting for someone to react, to do anything. She watched as Captain America fell to his knees, overcome with exhaustion or emotion, Wanda couldn't tell. Some of the others followed the motion, ducking their heads in respect.

With little else option, and the tiredness in her limbs becoming harder to ignore, she followed on, body failing her as she was sent to her knees, a pounding in her head, and a dull ache in her chest.

Everything after that went by in a blur. The Avengers Compound had been destroyed, which was oh so convenient considering everyone's exhaustion. Pepper was too grief-stricken to locate them to another of Tony's mansions, so Rhodey took it upon himself to do so, the man was clearly deflecting the grief by burying himself in anything else.

She was nothing like that, her grief was suffocating, it infiltrated her every sense until she was practically breathing it like oxygen, and she couldn't turn away, couldn't cower from it. Grief shoved into her in full force, it throbbed in her temples.

Wanda shrugged off the thoughts with a sigh, hands running through her grimy hair, cringing as she felt her hand get caught on multiple knotted locks. God, she needed a shower.

The ride to the new proclaimed 'Avengers Settling Place' was sat mostly in silence, and Wanda was honestly grateful for it. Her mind wandered, drifting from anything of importance onto trivial things like the grass, the clouds, the sky. All the things she had been deprived of for five years.

The thought made her sick, it hadn't felt like five years to them, it wasn't, but on earth? Five years. She had been gone for five years. Idly, she wondered if anyone had missed her, who would have missed her. When she couldn't scrounge up an answer to her question, it didn't sting, she just accepted it. No one was left to miss her now, it was just a fact. She had to deal with it eventually.

The vehicle came to an abrupt halt in front of a large villa, but she couldn't bring herself to cast it a second glance, following on almost robotically as everyone entered the building. They were mostly guest rooms, and Rhodey told them just to scatter into any room of their choosing, and everyone obliged silently.

Wanda let her legs take her as fast as she could go, fumbling with the handle pathetically and cursing it until the God damn door finally clicked open and she caught sight of a bed. It would be so, so easy to fall onto the soft pillows and just sleep until the world fell away, but she was in dire need of a shower.

With surprising amounts of patience, she leaned against the door, inhaling sharply as she realised she didn't have any clothes. Maybe Pepper would have some? She wasn't really about to ask the woman who had just lost her husband for clothes, though. She tugged her hand through her hair, clenching her jaw as she felt that previous patience drain, (because of course, she had it in abundance) and she decided she could figure it all out later.

She stepped into the bathroom, struggling to work the shower as she peeled off her clothes, before letting the warm water wash over her. Her muscles relaxed in satisfaction as the water streamed down her body, and she was sure she would have fallen asleep.

Her fingers scrubbed her scalp, and she scowled as she watched the dirty water wash down the drain from her hair, mixed with pieces of rubble and dirt. She would've closed her eyes if she weren't so afraid of falling asleep right then and there.

Finally deeming herself clean enough, she forced herself out of the shower, wrapping soft blankets against her redenned skin as she debated just slipping on her old clothes, wanting nothing more than to collapse on her bed.

She left the bathroom, ready to just close her eyes and let the events of the day wash away like the shore, fall back into the ocean of events that was her life. Her eyes caught a wardrobe in the corner of the room, and she trudged her way over, tugging open the door.

In it, she found a hoodie, and a pair of sweat pants which she assumed were mens, but in the moment, she couldn't care as she idly slipped on the large items of clothing, enjoying the lack of contact against her sensitive skin.

Instantly, she stumbled her way over to the bed, eyes drooping as she felt her body melt into the soft matress, the covers denting beneath her. She failed to pull them over her, sleep claiming her as soon as she layed her head on the pillow.

Without a single care left in the world, she let it.

When she awoke, incredibly late into the day, she made no move to get up instantly. She had no reason to. Instead, Wanda laid there numbly, hands tracing patterns over the sheets draped over her her, which she'd managed to wiggle her way into.

Her mind spun chaotically, the thoughts she had been too tired to process the night before hitting her like hangover that morning. It would make sense, she thought dryly, her state last night may as well be chalked up to one of an intoxicated person.

Huffing, she took another sullen glance at the clock, deciding it was time to be useful. Her body protested as she forced herself up, pushing her arms down into the matress as she hauled herself up, the ache in her limbs becoming more apparent. She inched her way to the bathroom, splashing water over her face as she brushed her teeth with a lone toothbrush she had found in its stand.

Had it been used? Probably, why else would it be there, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Besides, staying sanitary was clearly the least of her worries concerning the state of her the night before. She splashed her face with water, and it effectively woke her up more with the shock of the cold water against her warm skin.

With that, she ventured her way out of her self-proclaimed room, attempting to retrace her steps back to the entrance in hopes of finding someone else. Or more realistically, in hoped of finding a kitchen, finding food more preferably. The hunger gnawing at her stomach was becoming harder and harder to ignore by the minute.

At the sound of distant voices, she sped up, before forcing herself to slow down in fear of being caught in her desperate state. She scolded herself internally, was this really her largest worry at the time? It was so stupid considering the circumstances, so stupid.

"Hi, Wanda," a soft voice greeted, and she recognised it to be that of Captain America. Steve. He looked weak, his face screaming tiredness and she wondered if he had got any sleep last night. She wouldn't blame him if he hadn't, the day before had been.. a lot, to say the least.

"Hey, Steve," she echoed, the same softness drenching her words as she rest a hand against his arm, flashing the man a sad smile which he reciprocated.

"Food?" He asked, pushing a plate of toast which had barely been touched in front of her. Forcing herself to keep at least a little bit of dignity, she didn't rush to the food, giving herself the time to seat herself on the chair and adjust before picking it up despite her intense, animalistic desire to just pounce on it.

"Bruce wanted to talk to us but uh thought we needed time to.. to grieve," he whispered, voice thick with emotion as she stared back at him, empathy swimming in her irises. "But he said it was important so yeah, we're doing it today."

She nodded, words failing her until she decided she owed it to him to provide him with some sort of verbal response, some sort of reassurance.

"Okay," she forced out, cursing her stupid tongue for not working with her, "Okay, I'll be there. Hopefully it'll be quick, then you'll uh- we'll have time to.. process."

He nodded curtly at her, watching her finish up the toast before beckoning her to walk out with him, and she assumed they'd find all the avengers, or what was left of them, already gathered. Majority of them had left the day before, though, courtesy of Doctor Strange who had brought them there in the first place for assistance. The man himself had gone back to his.. place, wherever it was, but was supposed to return later.

She was surprised to find no team gathering in the (rather luxurious now that she looked at it) living room, but rather a Bruce Banner merged Hulk pacing in the living room, who looked up at them as they walked in with an unreadable glint in his eyes.

"I have.. I have an idea."