a lion among wolves, bucky barnes (hiatus)

thirty-two.

SOKOVIA, CENTRAL-SOUTHWESTERN EUROPE
2015

WANDA'S finger tapped restlessly against a grate tabletop, so insistent that the black polish on the nail began to chip away. She gnawed on her lip until it stung. Where was he?

The cafe was blessedly crowded, especially the outdoor area, where she waited, as the gray sun had made a rare appearance that day. Wanda's eyes shifted from the street to her untouched muffin; she was nauseous with hunger, but nothing had compelled her in days. Too much had happened—too many things were far more important than eating.

She stared down at her hands. How could she be sure? After all this time . . . after the years of isolation, of not knowing a thing about the outside world, how is it Wanda's first glance of it would include her?

Something moved in her peripheral, took the seat across from her. Wanda did not look up.

"Did you find anything?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," Pietro replied, pulling her plate to him. "The police do not talk about it. No one has reported on the raid, and the Avengers are back in New York." He paused and tore off a chunk of the muffin and took his time chewing. Pietro's nose wrinkled with disgust. "Blueberry," he mumbled with distaste. A moment later, he regained his sincerity. "Wanda . . . do you think that you could have been mistaken? In Stark's vision . . . maybe it wasn't Jekaterina—"

"It was," Wanda insisted. "I know it. Stark looked to her like he knew her."

Pietro's lips were pulled taut. "Was she like the others? Dead?"

"Yes." Wanda tugged at her jacket sleeves. "It was her. Jekaterina lives, and she lives close to them. Close enough that Tony Stark would care if she died."

"But why wouldn't Strucker tell us?" Pietro wondered. "Why hide it?"

"Why would he tell us?" Wanda argued. "Jekaterina's program was a failure. She was a failure. He would not wish to remember that, and he did not wish anyone else remember, either. That is why he taught me to erase her."

Pietro's face was grim and he kept his stare down. "A harsh punishment, I still think."

"She was not supposed to live long enough to grieve, Pietro," Wanda said. "But yet she fights alongside the Avengers to this day. Do you not wonder why?"

"I want to stick to the plan," Pietro said, leaning back in his seat. "I want to get to Stark and to the others and I want them to suffer. If Jekaterina is included, so be it. But you must remember, surată, she was always kind to us."

Wanda was quiet for many moments. She rested her chin on her palms and her focus wandered, mind drawn back to long ago, new bitterness lifting its head in her. "I remember," she said. "But if her loyalties lie with Stark then kindness means nothing. I want to talk to her. I want to see what she has done with herself."

Pietro shook his head. "We would never get her alone."

"We could," Wanda insisted. "Do not be so pessimistic."

"And if we get to New York?" Pietro challenged. "What, we schedule a lunch with her? You know Jekaterina will assume we have no memory of her."

Wanda finally seemed to hear him. Her eyes hardened, her fingers flexing strangely, and a crease came to her forehead. "We'll find a way. I'm sure of it."

Pietro tipped back his chair, shaking a lock of silver hair away from his eye. "If you say so. And before you suggest it, I cannot run to Manhattan."

Wanda scoffed at him but did not argue. It had, admittedly, crossed her mind.

• • •