Inheritance of ash

day three - part one

Vicky let out a long breath that felt like it had been held inside her ribcage for days. "Okay," she whispered, more to herself than to Liane.

They talked then, the way therapists and patients do when they are trying to make a bridge out of rubble: concrete, small, useful.

Liane led the conversation with steady, practical questions about sleep, about meals, about if Vicky could call someone when the need felt like a wave. Vicky admitted she hadn't slept last night. She hadn't wanted to be alone in the dark. She agreed, after some coaxing, to a list of concrete steps—call Natasha first, call Tony second, and if neither answered, call Liane.

She agreed to keep the rubber band, but to place the lighters in Natasha's hands that afternoon.

When Liane stood to end the appointment, she didn't pat Vicky on the knee or give a saccharine pep talk. She simply waited until Vicky collected herself enough to stand, then looked her in the eye and said, quietly, "You did the hard thing today. That counts."

Vicky walked out into the tower hall with a strange, unfamiliar bruise of relief under her ribs and a plan she was terrified of keeping. The lighter would be surrendered that afternoon. She would talk to Natasha. She would try not to fall apart in the meantime.

It was fragile. It was tentative. It was something.

⸻

The four young avengers pulled up close enough to the SHIELD office building, engines still humming low from the ride.

Kate was the first to move, letting go of Yelena and slipping off the motorcycle. Her legs felt unsteady, though she'd never admit why.

Wanda climbed off Pietro's bike a second later, brushing her hair back as her brother and Yelena wheeled their motorcycles to a shaded corner where they wouldn't draw too much attention.

Kate's eyes followed Yelena's retreating back longer than she should have. Wanda nudged her gently at her side. "You okay?" she asked in a quiet voice, not wanting Yelena to overhear.

Kate blinked, snapped herself out of the daze, and forced a smile that felt thin on her face. "Yeah. Fine."

Wanda tilted her head, unconvinced. "Being so close must feel weird," she said softly. "After everything that's happened."

Kate scoffed, eyes still glued to Yelena even though she wished they weren't. "I'll live with it until we're back home. It's fine. Really."

Wanda's silence said she didn't buy that. But she didn't press further, because Pietro and Yelena returned then.

"Took you long enough," Kate muttered under her breath.

Yelena didn't even react, just checked the street before nodding to Wanda. The witch lifted her hands and red swirls shimmered around them, cloaking herself, Kate, and Yelena from sight. Pietro remained visible—though Wanda altered his features slightly so no one would recognize him at a glance.

"Showtime," Pietro grinned, brushing off his jacket as he headed for the glass doors.

A young brunette, maybe twenty-something, walked up at the same moment. She scanned her badge with the distracted air of someone who hated their job but needed it. Pietro slid right in beside her, flashing a smile like he'd been waiting all night for this opportunity.

"Long day?" he asked.

She blinked, wary at first, but he leaned casually on the frame, broad shoulders and easy confidence making him seem older than he was.

"What department are you in?" she asked, suspicion threading her voice.

Pietro smirked. "Avengers Initiative Files Keepers," he said smoothly, like it was an actual division.