Vanished {Pietro Maximoff}

Chapter 23

A half-hour had passed since Pietro left, but to Alex, it felt more like minutes. After her mother had guided Alex into the kitchen, she'd mentioned something about finding a picture album.

Alex poked through the cupboards while she was waiting for her mother's return, exploring every nook and cranny of the family home, to see how much it had changed in the nine years since she'd last seen it.

There was a drawer by the sink that Alex remembered as containing biscuits and, out of curiosity, Alex opened it again. She reached around, fingers skimming the back of the drawer when she felt something touch her. Further in Alex leaned, fingers barely grasping a small piece of paper. Once she had it properly, it teleported into her pocket and Alex got her arm free.

The paper was old and crumbled, the corner of it ripping off at Alex removed it from her pocket. Alex smoothed it out as best as she could and held it up to the light, reading the three words inscribed on the paper.

I am coming.

It was written in English, something that Alex skimmed over without thinking. Then- after discarding the paper on the table- Alex picked it up and read it again.

The note was in English.

Alex's training from Natasha was kicking in as she began to examine the paper more closely. Her mother hadn't written it, the writing was too neat for that to be the case, and the simple phrase read more like a warning. There was no names, Alex even checked on the back of the paper.

The note was found in the kitchen, the last place Alex had heard her mother on that night where she faked her death. It was old, Alex didn't know how long the paper could last but surely it could be longer than the six-ish years it had been since Alex ran away.

"Ena, vai a mettere su il bollitore."

"Si, Ma'." Alex didn't end up boiling the water, too preoccupied as her mother entered the room again, bearing boxes full of the memories she'd promised Alex could have.

"Dai un'occhiata a queste fotografie." The photograph that drew Alex's eye was one of a couple holding their baby. All three of them were smiling; Alex had never known her father to smile like that after she'd gained her powers.

"Perché mi stai mostrando questo?"

"Oh, Ena. Voglio soltanto la mia bambina indietro."

Alex straightened up, letting the scrap of paper drop from her fingers onto the table. It was a throwaway line that her mother had said, possibly nothing was meant by it but Alex couldn't control the anger that flared inside her, "No."

"Italiano, Ena."

"We speak in English or I will not speak at all."

"See what they've done to you, you're already losing touch with who you are."

"Who I am is not defined by the language I speak." Alex's voice was as gentle as she dared let it be, testing the waters of what she would and wouldn't be allowed to bring up, "And you never told me you spoke such good English."

"Things aren't always as they seem, Ena."

"Are you sorry?" The question slipped out, quiet but deadly, carrying all of Alex's fragile hopes for the future relationship between her and her mother.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you sorry, at all for what you did?" All of Alex's effort was going into trying not to cry, lip pursing as though it would stopper the tears ready to fall.