Part 44

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WANDA

I'm aware my time is limited. I work quickly and effortlessly, scared by how easily it all comes back to me. I twist through her memories, find her fears.
I falter a moment.
But then I create her her own scene. A dinner with me, Pietro, and our father. In flashes I can see my father grow distorted - his leg missing, his face half burnt. Looking how he was after the attack on our home.
Pietro is harder for me to create. Everything in my body screams against providing an image where he is in pain. But I just think back to the times where we were being experimented on. I show us at our worst.
I place my mother in the scene. I am out of eyesight. Whilst the majority of her brain is being pushed to the limits, forced to fight her fears - see her worst ones have already come true, I go through the rest of her head.
I know what I'm looking for. And it's almost too easy to find. I suppose she was thinking about it.
I see a book on the table. Black, leather bond. I pick it up. I see various words. Seventeen. Homecoming. I recognise them. I flick through more. Longing. Daybreak. Nine.
And then I remember. I remember seeing these being repeated after Steve showed me the video of Bucky being turned. It's how they brainwashed Bucky.
Whoever my mother was working with, they must have taught her their methods. I shudder as I think - it took them decades to brainwash Bucky, it took her minutes to do the same to Peter.
'Darling, you're smarter than I taught you to be.' My mother says. No body, just a distant voice. I turn, trying to place her. She's too weak to have a form, 'so you know my methods, but you have no cure. I am nothing if not thorough.'
'Bucky survived. He's gotten better. Peter can too.' I say, turning, trying to keep a track of her.
'Oh perhaps, perhaps. But Bucky had his buddy, his pal. Peter, on the other hand, has lost everyone. Do you really think, my darling girl, do you really think he can come back from that?' She drifts in and out, louder and quiet. It rings in my head.
'Why do you do this to him?' I ask. I stay still now. It is a simple question. I want a simple answer, 'He is a boy. He's done nothing to you.'
'And what has you or Pietro done? What has you don't to deserve such a ruined life? You may not want revenge, my girl, but I will die for it.' She says. She sounds relieved almost.
'You will.' I say, 'you will die for it. Know that I loved you. Long ago, when I was younger. Know that I loved you, mother.'
'Do what you must do, Wanda. I am no longer a mother to you.' She says. Her voice cuts off sharply there.
I fall to my knees, close my eyes. I desperately wanted her to find some peace. I wanted her to acknowledge me. To love me again. But she chose a different path.
I think of Pietro, and how he died for the people I love now. I think of him as I let out a piercing scream and feel the space around me fill with red, chaotic power. Everything explodes.
'Wanda, hey. Hey, can you hear me? Hey Wanda?' I open my eyes slowly. Clint holds me up. He lets out a sigh of relief as he seems me blinking, 'Oh thank God.'
'Clint, she's not breathing.' Steve says. I look over to him and he's checking my mother. She sits in her chair, limp. He looks over to me.
'She's dead.' I say, 'I know.'
'Did you find out how to help Peter?' Steve asks, 'is there a cure?'
'I...' I look to Clint, who still holds me up, 'I need to talk to Tony.'

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