||"If you look closely, you can see it in her eyes. She is a mess of gorgeous chaos, a song that never dies."||
Wanda kept seeing Markus' daughter's face in her head, and though she knew they weren't to blame for the terrible death of his daughter, she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they had just let him go.
Nik and Wanda made their way outside, their thoughts obviously raveled by what was said at the meeting.
"Do you think they'll find this place?" Nik asked.
"We're not exactly hiding," she answered, and at sudden change in his expression, she grabbed his hand. "We've gone up against Markus and his men before. I think we'll be fine."
"He shot you."
"Yet here I am, still breathing."
Nik opened the door for her, and she strolled into the open land to find that it was empty as usual. "You never told me you got shot."
"You never asked."
"It's not something that comes up in casual conversation," he retorted, eyeing the large space gleefully. "Ah," he breathed in, "the familiarity of trees and grass."
"Let's go, before you wander off on some adventure."
Through the woods, where Wanda and Crystal sparred yesterday, her and Nik sat down together on the grass, making themselves comfortable for the tough work ahead of them.
"You've done this before, Wanda. There is no need to fear what is already instinct." His voice caressed her bones, sending her into a state of calmly solitude. Everything around her went blurry, except for Nik, who sat in front of her, his eyes patient and his mouth speaking the words that would guide her through the exercise. "Let your magic breathe," he said lastly, and she obeyed, opening her fists and turning her palms face-up.
Her magic laced through her fingers, snaking around each finger, testing out the air. She realized that this was the first time she had used her magic since returning that she had't feared the outcome.
Hexes formed in her palm, awaiting her command to fire off, but she didn't send them anywhere. She let them sit on her hand until they grew to the size of apples—two on each palm. They hovered above her skin, bobbing idly, and then, with ease and control, she let them rise above her head.
"Where do they want to go, Wanda?" Nik asked, his voice barely an echo, but still there, still near.
"Everywhere," she whispered, feeling her hexes float above her head, asking for her permission to fly away. Her mental grip on them tightened.
"Is that what it feels like, Wanda? Is this what your magic has been asking of you?"
The hexes faltered as she pondered of his questions, but she wasn't sure if she had the right answer.
"I'm not sure," she said, her hexes growing impatient. "I don't know what my magic wants—I don't know how to feed it without putting myself, or everyone else, in danger."
A confession. That's how they'd met back in Sokovia seven months ago.
When Nik had wandered through the woods behind the town, close to the cabin where Wanda and Pietro resided in, he had stumbled upon her on a bad day. She was shooting her magic into the sky, bolts of red firing aimlessly at the white clouds above.
Tears had been streaming down her face; she was frustrated, but most of all frightened.
She'd been so focused on sending her hexes into the sky, that she hadn't heard the boy approach her.
"My mother once spoke of magical people who roamed the woods, picking berries and twirling under the moonlight," he began, stepping around so that he came face to face with her. His movements were cautious, not that he was afraid for himself, but for her. He didn't want to startle her. "She said they carried gifts—powers the color of the sea and of fire and of rubies. I believed her of course, but never in my life did I imagine myself seeing one with my own two eyes."
Wanda had fallen to her knees at that point, her body exhausted from the over-use of her magic, but she looked up to glance at the boy standing a few feet away, his eyes wide with a thrill she couldn't comprehend.
"I am not magical," she had said, wiping her eyes. "I'm darkness."
Why wasn't he afraid?
The boy began to shake his head. "Perhaps so, but...darkness can be beautiful; darkness can be good."
Wanda closed her fists, extinguishing the hexes above her head.
"You're afraid to follow them," Nik said, his voice clearer than it was a few minutes ago. She had lost herself in thought, in her memories, but he was right. She was afraid to follow her hexes, afraid of where they might lead her. "You're surrendering yourself to your fears, Wanda. You're picking up the habits that tortured you back home."
Her mouth gave a twitch of a smile. "Maybe my fears will show mercy," she joked, but Nik didn't laugh, not even the hint of amusement in those curious eyes. "When I go see the Professor, I want you to come with me. Maybe the two of you can formulate a plan to speed this process up."
Nik squinted his eyes and kicked at her shoe. "Okay. Let's see where your magic takes you," he said, lifting his chin and signaling her to position herself, palms face-up.
"Where it takes us," she insisted.
"Of course, of course. Where is takes us."
Then she closed her eyes and felt her magic slither through her fingers, cooler this time, welcoming her.
___
"He's a good kid," Emma said, taking a spot beside Steve as he watched Wanda and Nik through the trees, just close enough to make out the scarlet hue of Wanda's magic. "I believe in him."
"To do what?" Steve asked, and she couldn't help but notice the jealousy lacing his words.
"To help the woman you love, Captain."
She was back in her white attire: a white crop top, white high-waisted leggings, a white belt, white boots, and her white cloak, clipped onto the diamonds on each shoulder. Sharon's claw was the only added color to her look—a sanded down dagger, ink black during the day, translucent in the dark.
"What do we plan on doing about Markus?" she asked, touching her necklace before turning away from the window.
"I'm not sure there's much we can do," he said, finally peeling his eyes away from Nik and Wanda. "Once a man has revenge on his mind, there's no stopping him."
Emma pursed her lips. "You should see what it does to a woman."
They walked together down the halls of the main building, thinking of a plan that can protect both the people at the compound, and of Wanda. Though Emma knew Wanda would always be a priority, even if she protested, asking—begging—them to make sure the others were safe.
A girl stricken by the nightmares she caused others would always put herself last, Emma thought.
Wanda is always worried about the people she cares about—it's who she is
Back in the living room, Sam, Tony, and Natasha were huddled together, their fingers tracing over a hologram that floated between all three of them. It was a map, one of the compound, Emma realized, and she knew then that they too had been thinking of a plan.
"Any luck?" Steve asked, taking a seat beside Sam.
"They have a dozen ways of getting into this place, they wouldn't be quiet, but there still is no way of warding off anyone who has intentions of causing great damage." Sam bit down on a pen, and Emma sat down next to Natasha and stared at the hologram.
"Send the workers home, until this is taken care of," she said, grabbing the edge of her cloak and holding it close. "No casualties."
Tony looked at her, nodding his head.
"Should we take the twins to the Professor?" Sam asked, and everyone looked at each other, not sure who was going to make the call.
"We ask them if they want to stay, and if they don't, we'll take them over there. But I doubt they'll want to leave, not when the rest of us are still here." Steve agreed with Natasha, and Emma thought of Crystal, and how she'd much rather have her stay with Charles, but knowing very well she'd stay.
That stubborn girl.
Emma smiled at the thought.
"Wanda is expected to be at the school, training with Charles and Jean tomorrow. I believe it's best that we continue on with her schedule, instead of putting a stop to it. Markus may storm into this place tonight, maybe next week or possibly next month, but we can't stop everything and wait."
"How long is that process going to take?" Sam asked, and Emma gave him an elegant shrug.
"Her powers are getting stronger; Charles expects her to uncover new abilities; her body will need to be conditioned thoroughly. That process may take months."
Steve gave a wistful sigh, his hands holding onto each other in a silent prayer.
Emma folded her owns palms gently on her lap and stared at the hologram. Maybe Markus was bluffing—no man would willingly walk into a compound with the world's mightiest heroes standing guard. Not unless he didn't plan on walking out alive.
A suicide mission is what it was, and Emma had no doubt that Markus—with nothing left to lose—would stray away from a chance to get his bloody revenge.
___
Crystal stepped in front of her mark, the hand-gun in her hand heavy and unfamiliar.
The Agents around her didn't say a word when she had grabbed a gun and ammunition out of the room that kept itself stocked with weapons she couldn't name. After the meeting earlier that morning, she decided she wanted to learn how to shoot.
Markus.
The name sounded as repugnant as the man, and apparently his military training would be of good use to him if he ever decided to ambush the compound. But what about her? How would setting the trees on fire, or creating a tornado come in handy if she couldn't even see her target?
Learning how to shoot a gun seemed rational.
She brought the gun up and loosed a breath, trying not to let her hands shake with the nerves that scattered across her arms. Though she'd never actually shot a gun before, she figured it couldn't be that hard. All she had to do was point and shoot.
"Easy there," someone said from behind, and before she could turn and see who it was, strong arms folded around her, calloused, but firm hands wrapping around her own. The guy behind her came up and propped his chin on her shoulder, bringing the gun a little higher so that once fired, would hit the target straight on.
"Afraid I'll shoot a bird?" she asked, moving to lean against him.
"With the way you were pointing this gun, the birds would have been safe. But poor old Henry over there wouldn't have been so lucky." Her eyes trailed over to where she saw an Agent sanding down a knife. She hadn't even seen him sitting there, hadn't even thought to look just a few inches to her right, where he sat, completely oblivious to what she was doing.
Who sits near a target anyway?
"Target practice isn't until six," he said, and she straightened her shoulders and tried not to be offended. "Which means, you can come out here in a few hours and practice all you want, but until then," he grabbed the gun from her hands and moved from behind her.
She recognized him immediately—the handsome boy Wanda was talking to that day in the training room. Connor? Chris?
"It's Cas," he pulled out the magazine from the gun, dropping the bullets into his palm and stuffing them into this pockets. "And you're Crystal."
"The one and only," she said, crossing her arms. "And I was really looking forward to shooting that thing, so if you will..." she reached out to grab the gun, but he held it above his head, the muscle in his arm flexing—bronzed skin and all.
"No can do," he latched the gun onto his belt and smiled at her, and she hated how perfect it was. "Feel free to come down at six, and I'll help you out, but we have rules here."
"I think I'm an exception," she said, twirling a dime-sized ball of fire through her fingers.
Cas narrowed his eyes, and she was sure he was going to give in and hand her the gun, but he simply said, "no."
In a last attempt to win over the gun, she untied her hair from it's top-knot and let the waves of cherry-blond drop down her shoulders and back, the wind finding her bangs and shuffling them over her forehead. Then, in a voice she only used for Pietro, said, "please?"
Cas didn't so much as flinch or shift beneath her green gaze, and she wondered if she looked worse than she felt.
After a minute of hot silence, Cas let out another chuckle.
"Women are beautiful beings, but they never really appealed to me," he gave off a sheepish shrug, and she felt her cheeks grow hot and too suddenly she was wrapping her hair back up in a bun and rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. The scars on her arms shown dramatically from where she stood, but he didn't even seem to notice them.
Battle wounds, she thought, were either uniquely vibrant, or dangerously ugly.
"I'm all out of tricks," she said to him, and he grinned. "So, six o'clock, yes?"
"Six o'clock."
"Maybe I'll bring by a friend, one with silver hair and the sky for eyes?"
It's then when Cas swallowed, and she turned on her heel and left the beautiful boy standing near the target, his bronzed skin flushed and dewy.
************************
A/N: How would you guys feel if I posted the Prequel to Chaos--the story between Nik and Wanda in Sokovia--soon?
I'm always writing in memories that happened between them on here, and I think it'd be a lot more meaningful if you guys knew the full story between them, and how strong and important it is.
Would you guys read it? I mean, either way, I'd be posting it, but I've been having trouble figuring out when a good time to post it should be. Soon? Or after I finish Chaos?
Let me know:)