Chaos (Sequel to Agony)

|Prologue|

||"My power is unpredictable enough."||

"Can you prepare our rooms?"

"Your rooms?—wait, are you coming back?"

"We'll be arriving tomorrow night, and make sure my room is beside hers."

"Yes. Yes, I'll have them ready for you. God...how are you?"

"She's fine, if that's what you're wondering."

"Pietro, it's been seven months..."

"I am aware of how much time has passed, Tony. But we're ready to go back."

"Don't stress it, kid, I'll get your rooms in tip-top shape. Uh, also, the only one here is Natasha, but I can call the others to let them know you're coming back."

"No, I can do that when we arrive. She'll want space when we get back, so the less people...the better"

Her mouth went dry as she listened in on Pietro's conversation, and as she repeated the words in her head, all she could think of was Nik.

When Pietro's voice went silent, Wanda glanced up through the window she was looking in, and saw her brother staring back at her. His silver hair had lightened over the months, almost resembling white, and she couldn't tell if it was because of his thin beard or something else entirely, but he almost looked older.

Wanda then turned, walking down the pebbled road back to the bookstore. If Pietro intended on taking her back to New York, then he'd have to drag her there.

The swift sound of Pietro running buzzed in her hear as he ran by her. She spotted his silver hair a few feet ahead, standing beside an old tree. "I don't want to talk to your right now," she snapped, rolling up her sleeves. How was she going to tell Nik that she was leaving?

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"Why do you care? I mean clearly you don't care about how I feel since you haven't even bothered asking me if I want to leave or not." She stomped by him, the summer sun rising higher, lighting the dark path. She could hear Pietro grumbling something under his breath, but he followed her down the pebbled path anyway.

"I thought you would be happy to be going home," he said, his voice painfully soft. Her skin chilled, and she felt herself stop.

"Home?" she turned, facing her brother. The sun lit his face beautifully, and for a split second she saw their father in him—a glimpse into her past, and the anger she had worked tirelessly to control finally sizzled out. Seven months in Sokovia, training and testing out her abilities had paid off, but controlling that overwhelming feeling of anger and chaos had been a struggle.

Even now, seven months later, she still felt powerless against herself.

"I brought you here because I know how much you needed to be away from that life. Being a...hero is not something we're used to. Wanda, I looked at you that night in the factory and I saw something dark. I never want to see you like that again."

Distant chatter grew quiet, and Wanda's eyes peered down the to pebbled path, and she conjured up an image of Steve—of when she last saw him.

Seven long months had trickled by, and with each passing day, Steve's face had faded. She could no longer remember the color of his hair, or the scent of his skin or even the way his chest felt. She couldn't remember anything about him, except his voice saying her name.

His voice had never left, and at night when she would lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling in her room, she would hear him. The velvet tone of his voice speaking her name rocked her to sleep every single night, for seven long months.