shards - pietro maximoff

chapter thirteen ; enemies and explosions

"We need to go back to the compound, Steve," Dahlia said quickly. "Now."

He nodded and called the plane, loading Wanda onto it hurriedly.

"Can we grab some donuts on the way out?"

There was a collective groan.

"Guess that's a no."

•

Pietro paused outside Dahlia's door and swallowed his nerves.

As soon as they had gotten back to the compound, Dahlia had rushed to make sure Wanda was okay, and after a few hours of comforting her, had locked herself in her room.

"Are you alright?" He spoke from outside her room, his voice soft.

"Always am, Speedy." Even though it was muffled, Pietro could still hear the pain in the tone she was using.

He was silent for a moment more. "You don't have to be."

"But don't I?"

Pietro sighed. If she was being this unresponsive, it was something big, and he refused to let her deal with it alone.

He needed to help her, but he knew she wouldn't let him in so easily. Pietro pushed open the door, and at first glance he couldn't see the girl.

Her room was extremely unlike what he'd imagined it would be. He had only ever been in her room back at the tower, and it wasn't really hers then, anyways. But since they had moved into the compound, Dahlia had finally let the room start to feel like her.

It was far from clean, but that was to be expected. She was no neat freak, that was for sure. Posters of things he didn't recognize adorned the walls, clothes littered on the floor. He saw his reflection in the large vanity on the leftmost wall as he walked by.

Dahlia was curled up on a bench in front of her window, a large plush blanket wrapped around her body as she looked out over the countryside.

Pietro didn't know how to comfort her, so he didn't say anything at first, sitting across from her and looking at the view, waiting for her to speak first.

"Lots of people might say that the view from here is gorgeous," Dahlia's voice was shakey, and a bit hoarse. "But when I look out there... I just see nothing. It makes me feel so alone."

He thought over his next words carefully. "You might not think I get it but I understand," Dahlia looked up at him. "When we lived back in Sokovia, back when Wanda and I were still very young, people would yell outside all day and all night. I would try not to listen to their shouts, because I was worried I'd hear something I wish I hadn't. But even with the incessant noise, it meant they were alive, and the silence... well you know what that would mean. I've never liked the silence. Not one bit."

Dahlia looked at him, and saw the broken boy behind his eyes. She never liked to trust people blindly, but he just seemed so caring.

"I knew him, you know. Rumlow." She said quietly. "I mean, he said that today, but I really knew him."

Pietro stayed silent, not wanting to discourage her at all.

"We trained at S.H.I.E.L.D. together. Of course, he was in his thirties and I was seventeen, but our skills matched up at the time." Her eyes turned glassy, holding back the tears that threatened to spill. "He was my first friend. I thought I could trust him... but I guess I was wrong. And I know it's dumb and I know he was a bad guy, but I can't help but mourn, even though I know he doesn't deserve it."

Dahlia wiped her face with the blanket before continuing. "He would've killed us all today, so I know it's better like this, but he was my friend."

Pietro moved a bit closer to her, letting Dahlia rest her head on his chest and wet his shirt with her tears.

They sat like that for hours, saying and doing nothing except watch the sky turn from blue, to pinky-orange, to pitch black.

Only when the compound stood silent, and the only sound was of Dahlia's steady breathing, fast asleep, did Pietro say anything.

Well, it wasn't exactly 'saying' something, more like singing.

His instinct was to hum the tune that his mother would sing to him as a child, on nights where he had a particularly hard time sleeping. She believed that if she sang bits and pieces of English to them, it would give her children a better grasp of the language later.

Quietly, in the gentlest way he could, Pietro sang.

Come, little bird, come down from the tree,
Down to the lake and it's gold.
Come little children, from dark until day,
And sing us the song of the old.
Through branches and leaves,
The sun still it beams,
And the river's they shimmer with light.
Oh, the girl in the sky,
From the mountains she cries,
Until daybreak is gone once more.

The sound of his own voice and the feel of the girl's breaths were enough to send Pietro into a deep sleep, dreaming of the sun, of rivers, and most strangely, the girl in the sky. He had dreamt this before, but this time it was different.

He recognized the girl.

Dahlia.

hey guys! sooo civil war has started!! yay!!
how are you all?
love you :)
ella <3