| 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 |

♡ '𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐒' 𝟓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 "𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊"' ♡

LET ME INTRODUCE you to Claire Grimaldi's five stages of "What the actual fuck?". Not to be confused with Claire Grimaldi's 'five stages of Grief' or her 'Top ten ways to distract small children,' which came in handy when she volunteered at daycare last month. No, no, these five stages weren't carefully crafted through trial and error. They were completely improvised, and it started a little something like this....

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂

NOW WAKING UP to some people can be disappointing in itself, but waking up alone in a strange place? That's horrifying.

Claire's body jolted upright, her head spun, and her lungs burned, gasping for breath. Her ears rang, and her eyes were blurred with unshed tears. Through the fog of her brain, she could only bring forth one question 'What happened?' Claire took in greedy breaths, trying desperately to slow her heart rate.

Reaching a shaky hand, she forcefully wiped at her eyes, clearing her vision to take in her surroundings. Her eyes swept the space in a panic taking in the gray brick walls drifting to the white tiled floor. When she shifted to sit upright, the metal frame of her cot groaned, drawing attention to where she sat on top of its paper-thin gray sheets.

Fearfully she turned her head to take in the rest of the room. Claire froze as she locked eyes with an equally scarred woman across from her. The stranger's wild hair was a dark wavy brown with red streaks peaking out under the bright light, contrasting Claire's typical fiery red mane. Her skin was slightly darker as well. Where Claire had a fair skin tone that bruised easily, this woman had a tanner complexion. She was obviously malnourished, and her skin had a sickly glow.

Claire tilted her head, and the woman did the same. When Claire blinked away the fog covering her mind, the woman blinked in sync. Finally, it clicked; Claire's eyes grew wide as she started hyperventilating. The far wall was a mirror. But the face staring back wasn't her own.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

AFTER REALIZING THE woman in the mirror was now...her? But how can that be? She was sure she died. She remembered the car's flashing lights coming straight at her; the blinding light was the only thing she remembered from that night, and then the beautiful stars, the calmness of the wind, and how numb she felt.

She remembered taking her last breath, her heart slowing down and then flat-lining and never to beat again. But it did somehow. She missed her bubbly children (they weren't hers, but they felt like they were), hearing their cheerful voices. She'll miss seeing their faces and how much they bugged her to read them stories.

She sat down on the squeaky cot, trying to understand what she saw. She calmed her breathing, counting to three and then letting it out.

Then an onslaught of pictures slammed into her mind, making her head spin, and her vision again went cloudy. Pictures of strangers clouded her sight, and yet there was something oddly familiar about them; soft voices echoed through her head.

She placed a delicate hand on her head, massaging it, trying to relieve the pain. She was so very confused; what was happening? Who were these people? Why does seeing their faces and hearing their voices make her want to cry?

It was all so overwhelming; the strangers brought a sense of melancholy and unfamiliar yearning. It was such a strong feeling of helplessness. Nothing made sense. Claire's head was spinning; she shouldn't be here. Had she survived the crash? Was she trapped in some bootleg hospital? But if she was, it still didn't explain the mess of thoughts that made her mind feel like it wasn't hers.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘

THERE WAS A knock at the metal door that interrupted her spiraling. It opened, revealing a bulky guard cladded in black tactical gear and an old man with a white doctor coat. The woman cowered against the wall in fear.

'Who are these people? Please don't take my organs or kill me? I'm too pretty to die!!' she screamed in her head. 'Well, die again, at least,' she added.

"Wanda, the experiment is about to start. Let's go," the old man said, beckoning her over while the guard placed his gloved hand over the weapon in case she tried to do something. 'Well, I think I can rule out a hospital,' Claire thought, nodding fearfully as she got up and slowly made her way over, grimacing as her bare feet connected with the cold tiles.

'Just go along with them unless you want to get hurt. Is the woman in the mirror named Wanda?' Claire thought, refusing to recognize herself and her reflection as one and the same.

She walked through the white hallway with the doctor and the scary guard behind her. The trio reached another metal door, and the doctor placed his key card on the black scanner, and the door opened with a beep. Her eyes stayed on the card; maybe she could escape?

The doctor waved the brunette woman in, and she obeyed, walking into the dark room. There was a lit-up walkway leaving an eerie shine on the concrete walls. On the side of the room was a weird metal construct resembling a scepter-type object, holding a beautiful blue gem on the top; it shined brightly and lit up the clean mirror.

A two-way mirror, no doubt; as she walked towards the beautiful stone, she couldn't help observing her different reflection. She wore an ugly, conservative gray dress that showed her malnourished and skinny figure. Her brown hair laid lip against her collarbone; the blue light made her skin look pale and sickly.

The doctor then closed the door, and her heart skipped a beat; she looked over her shoulder, realizing there was no way out.

"For our notes, Ms. Maximoff, can you please state your name and confirm your status" a deep voice echoed in the room; she looked around for the voice and noticed the intercom in the corner.

Her brows furrowed, and she spoke without thought, "Wanda Maximoff...volunteer" Her voice sounded scratchy and raw from crying and yelling.

After a beat of silence, the voice spoke again and demanded, "Touch the scepter."

The woman took curious and slow steps towards the scepter; it seemed to call to her, compelling her closer. Before she could make it, the stone flew out of its confines, flowing towards her and stopping in front of her face. The crystal hummed, giving off a blue glow.

As she looked closer while unknowingly raising her hand toward it, it felt alive, with white veins constantly moving, reminding her of a steady beating heart. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, even in her 'old' life.

Her hand reached the stone, and the blue shell shattered with an explosion of wind, showcasing its true color, yellow. Her hair whipped around, but she battled against the wind, pulled her head up, and stared at it with wide eyes.

Then she saw it, the truth, the future; she saw everything. A figure of power and strength with curly hair wearing a crown and a cape-type outfit. As the stone hummed, everything fell into place; she knew what had happened. Her eyes were unblinking, just staring at the gem with eyes that looked like she was in a trance.

Ethereal is all she knew and felt at that moment. The stone spoke to her, Its tone desperate. Its words were coated in the kind of pain and loneliness only achieved after eons of separation. It demanded a host that would reconnect it with its siblings.

'FiND tHeM, FInd THe oThERs' the stone echoed in her head, repeatedly. She unconsciously started mumbling it, and then the stone stopped its glow, and she fell to the floor. Her eyes scrunched closed, and images sped through her head like a movie.

At first, she saw nothing. Claire assumed she passed out as her vision went black. Her thoughts were interrupted by an explosion of cosmic proportion. A myriad of colors danced across her field of vision, rainbow shades she'd forgotten existed. In the center of this new galaxy were six glowing stones.

The one that caught her attention first was a glowing royal blue that seemed to hold its own galaxies within itself. 'Space,' her mind supplied. When Claire's eyes locked on it, the scenery changed, and images flooded her mind. Visions of a glowing blue cube and freezing arctic waters transitioned to the object placed on a pedestal in what appeared to be a vault.' Tesseract,' 'Asgard,' the voice from before whispered, yanking her back into space before the stones; there were five now.

Turning her attention to the next in line. This stone? Could she even call it that? It seemed to refuse to take form; it slithered and contorted into itself before finally settling into a solid gem shape that beat blood red. 'Reality.' Images of death and dark elves plagued her mind before it settled on an image of a caged reality stone slithering in, what Claire could only assume was some sort of exotic museum. 'Aether.' 'Knowhere.' Four stones remained.

The third stone was a familiar gold. 'Mind,' it whispered happily, introducing itself. Its aura was calming; the scent of lavender and jasmine filled her nose, and it glittered with secrets untold. 'I am with you,' it stated.

The amethyst stone flared to life quite. Literally, it pulsed with barely contained power and shot purple sparks out the sides. Claire didn't need Mind to tell her who this was; Power was self-explanatory. It showed her images of decimated planets and space pirates? 'Guardians,' Mind corrected though it sounded pretty amused. Finally, it showed her a silver sphere locked in a high-tech vault. 'Xandar.' There were only two stones left.

The fifth stone was emerald green. Like Reality, it seemed to not wish to stay still, but instead of changing forms, it leisurely spun clockwise. 'Time'. Time showed Claire where it sat on a pedestal encased in a bronze eye. 'The Eye of Agamotto.' 'Kamar-Taj.'

The final stone was a burnt orange; its aura was eerie and cold. Claire felt it was judging the sheer weight of her soul. This stone only gifted her with a brief image of a rocky cliffside before disappearing with the others. 'Soul'. 'Vormir.' Then everything went black again.

Her eyes fluttered open, seeing two males hovering over her, checking her pulse.

"Wanda, are you okay?" a bald man asked worriedly - she could sense the genuineness; it radiated off him.

She nodded slowly with a moan of pain as they helped her up slowly. Her body ached, and her nerves felt on fire, but she awoke in this new body for the first time. Claire's mind was clear.

"What did you see?!" the other man asked; greed and envy flowed off him in waves; it was disgusting.

"I saw everything," she told him truthfully, still dazed and in awe of the stones. Her eyes found Mind again; it was sitting in the scepter encased in blue crystal, looking harmless. She could hear it in her head and feel it in her blood, her every being. She had connected to it spiritually; she needed to get out of there with the stone in her possession.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

THE WOMAN SAT on her cot, cradling her head, wincing occasionally, the only indication she was breathing. She was still as memories played through her mind like a movie; some flashed by while others played till the end.

The worst part was that she could feel everything happening, the pain of the experiments, the pain and fear of losing her parents, and the unconditional, almost excruciating love she had for Pietro. Claire, no. Wanda's vision swam, images flickering violently until a new scene played across her eyes.

𝐒𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐀, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟗

It was a typical night with the Maximoffs in their tiny one-bedroom apartment in war-torn Sokovia when everything changed.

The Maximoff patriarch had just finished work for the day while the matriarch was cooking a storm up in the kitchen like usual. It was a quaint night as a ten-year-old Pietro raced around the room with endless energy while a young Wanda sat on the couch watching The Dick Van Dyke Show, an American sitcom she was fond of while trying to keep an eye on her twin brother who loved to cause mischief.

Sitcoms and American shows were frequent, almost a tradition in the Romani household. They watched them to learn English in hopes of immigrating to America to have a better life because America was the dream.

Wanda smiled as she heard her mother and father greeting each other with their voices full of love, and Pietro ran to the couch to bug her. They were bickering when it happened. The sound of laughter ceased as a shell hit their small but loving house.

Wanda and Pietro were thrown to the ground. Debris left shallow cuts on their limbs as dust and smoke flooded the remnants of their home. Wanda was confused about what was happening and could only hear ringing in her ears, the smoke was thick, but she felt Pietro cradling her head, protecting her like always.

As the smoke lessened and the sound of gunfire and the whistles of bombs falling became clear. Fear and adrenaline consumed her as she grasped Pietro's hand in her own, desperate for some form of comfort.

Then she saw the ominous red beeping and the glaring words of 'Stark Industries' sitting innocently three feet away from her face like it wasn't a weapon of mass destruction.

Wanda and Pietro sat under the pathetic structure of wood, huddled together, not making a sound, not even a wince of pain when their bodies cramped in the awkward position, nor reaching out to scratch that annoying itch on their faces. They didn't dare to speak or move, but they never once released the other's trembling hand.

They stayed trapped for two days, waiting for the bomb to finally give in and go off. It never did. It just blinked ominously as the sounds of war raged on outside. Then finally, they heard it, people yelling out for any survivors. They stayed deathly still waiting and wishing they had found them. With every shift of the bricks, they squeezed each other's hand a little tighter, thinking, 'This will set it off or 'We're going to die; this is it.'

__________

Eventually, the nine-year old twins were rescued and quickly shipped off to an orphanage, where they sat huddled together, watching as other children gained new families while they were rejected again and again.

Most people in Sokovia didn't want kids, especially with the war and hardships of living in such a poor country. They didn't want to make it harder on themselves by adopting one, let alone two kids, because Wanda and Pietro were a package deal. They were never seen far from each other. They slept together in the same bed, cuddled up every night as they dreamed of those two words, 'Starks Industries'

Growing annoyed with the orphanage they ran at the age of fourteen, it was not unheard of for kids to run away. They traded the run-down orphanage for the cold, unforgiving streets of Sokovia, but that was ok because they had each other, and that's all they really needed anyway.

𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐑𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒

There were whispers of a program that would be the next step in human evolution. Pietro and Wanda's interests were piqued by the whispers of unspoken power. Because power meant revenge, revenge on Stark and his weapons that had horrid consequences while he presumably sat in his mansion living his best life. The idea of having power gave them a chance to make things right. Protests and riots were not enough for the twins anymore. They needed a catalyst for real change.

They seized the opportunity and volunteered like many naive people did. Within the program, they and many others were subjected to multiple experiments for years. They started innocent and slowly became nefarious, but the twins ignored it and used the pain to strengthen, cementing their will for revenge.

The twins had met a few other volunteers; they ate lunch together but slowly realized their friends were dropping like flies. They become the only survivors.

__________

The twins had only been in the program for a few weeks. New volunteers poured in daily as the engineers and scientists prepared their experiments. Wanda had been tested that morning; doctors and scientists poked and prodded her. Drawing blood and running endurance tests for comparison later on. She was exhausted, leaning against Pietro, who kept an arm around her waist as they made their way into the cafeteria.

The cafeteria wasn't anything special. Like the rest of the facility, its floors and walls were gray stone. The expanse of the room was filled with rows of metal picnic tables where other test subjects ate. Pietro led his sister to the closest empty table.

"Rest. I'll bring you food," he whispered in Sokovian, helping her sit and kissing her forehead; too tired to argue, Wanda only nodded, resting her forehead against the cool table as he left.

Feeling the weight of the bench shift, the maroon-haired woman lifted her head, expecting her brother. Instead, she was greeted with the sight of a stranger who sat hunkered into himself on the opposite end of the table. He gave off the appearance of a large frightened child with his body language.

"Hello?" she questioned, her accent more prominent in her fatigue. The man, startled, slowly turned his head toward her; he had thought she was asleep. Now that the stranger faced her, Wanda took in his appearance. He had unkempt chin-length hair that hid the majority of his face from view, but even then, he looked haggard.

"Hi," he rasped, his vocal cords straining from lack of use as his body tensed, clearly uncomfortable with the interaction. Wanda's head tilted in curiosity, but she was kept from speaking as Pietro bounded over, placing two lunch trays in front of her.

"I got your favorite," he exclaimed with a smirk. "Mystery meat and whatever that shit is," he said, pointing to a strange pale mush in the corner of their trays.

Wanda scrunched her button nose at him and pretended to gag, sure they'd eaten worse on the streets, but that didn't mean they couldn't mock themselves. "My hero," she mused.

Pietro's smirk morphed into a mischievous grin, "Yes, and as your charming savior, I bring you these." His eyes sparkled as he took four plastic containers from the pockets of his sweatpants, revealing red and orange jello, chest puffing with pride as he watched his sister's eyes light up. Wanda quickly snatched one of each for herself, mimicking Pietro's grin, before remembering they had an audience.

She turned to face the stranger once more to find him watching the siblings interacting with wistful envy. The man froze when he realized he'd been caught, quickly shrinking into himself and turning away. Locking eyes with her twin, they had a silent conversation; they'd always been able to do that, almost like they could read each other's minds. Eventually, Pietro sighed, and Wanda, knowing she'd won, smiled triumphantly as the twins slid down the bench till she was next to the stranger with Pietro across from them.

The man tensed at their sudden movement, but when he made no move to leave, Wanda tapped him gently on the shoulder. Confused, he turned to her only to be met with a warm smile as she extended her arm, red jello cup in hand, toward him. "My name is Wanda, the fool across from you is my lesser half Pietro."

"Hey!" her brother scoffed, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. The stranger's face betrayed an amused smile; seeing this as a win, Pietro continued for his sister, "So what's your name, stranger?"

"My name..." he trailed off, eyes glazing over and brows furrowed like he wasn't sure how to answer. "Bucky," the name came out in a hoarse whisper, more of a question than anything.

Noticing the newly appointed Bucky's inner turmoil, Wanda spoke up, "Well, Bucky, I think we're going to get along well," her arm still stretched out with a jello cup, a physical representation of their offering of friendship.

Despite himself, Bucky's lips twitched at the act of rare kindness, his muscles tensing as he took the cup from his new friends. Who could say no to snacks?
__________

Countless other memories swam through her clouded mind. Faces and names connected together like stars in a constellation. Aromas clashed together like an explosion, and sounds echoed together like a symphony.

Images of Hydra racked through her skull, violently igniting phantom pains across her frail body, drawing attention to scars she didn't know she had, only to be broken by scenes of budding friendships that embraced her with familial love soothing the ache in her fragile bones.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

THE WOMAN SHOOK her head, her dark and curly hair swaying with every shake. Her brown eyes fluttered open, gone was the initial panic that had consumed her since she awoke, now replaced with a sense of peace and cold determination. She knew where she was and who she was. Everything made sense now.

She would live as Wanda Maximoff, the great Scarlet Witch, with a new purpose and a new mindset.

Her thirst for revenge was gone and replaced with understanding and forgiveness. All she had to do was get to her sweet Pietro and get the hell out of here and get somewhere safe that isn't a nazi organization or become a host for some alien or something along those lines.

Her conviction and acceptance birthed a plan. There was danger at every turn in this universe, aliens, gods, and evil villains who wanted nothing more than to destroy the world. Wanda wouldn't let that happen because where would she and Pietro live? Pietro was all that mattered at this moment in time.

She'll worry about the future later. First, Wanda and Pietro had to make it out of Hydra alive with the mind stone.

___________________

This fic is being co-op written by myself and -WickedWitch- so go check em out.

Question: What would you change from the MCU. I'll probably take these into account.

vote and comment x

words: 3, 797