WANDA
I stand towards the back of the room. Steve sits upfront, staring at the monitor that shows my mother sitting in a small, confined room.
'Do you have any idea what she did to Peter?' Steve asks, not turning to face me.
'No. I would say if I knew.' I say, slightly offended. I fear that the appearance of my mother as the new enemy might remind people that I was the enemy once too.
'Of course.' He says quickly, realising the insinuation he'd just made, 'I mean, did she show any signs of...working on anything. When you and Pietro were kids.'
'No. She was a teacher. She didn't...she couldn't have done all this on her own. The new limbs, the thing she did with Peter...I don't know. Maybe someone recruited her, like the ones who took me and Pietro; saw she was in mourning, exploited that.'
'Hold on,' He says, suddenly focusing on the monitor, 'I think she's waking up.'
'I'll go speak to her.' I say, standing up before I realise what I'm saying.
'Are you sure?' Steve asks.
'I need to.' I say.
'Alright. I'll be watching on the monitor. You need help just gesture.' He says, smiling thinly as I leave the room and walk the short walk to the room my mother is kept in.
I step in, close the door behind me. All I can do is stare. She has aged unkindly, losing the soft charm shed always had. I have a sudden painstaking realisation that she has lost the arm that she had mine and Pietro's birthday tattooed on.
'Do you recognise me?' I ask. My voice catches slightly. I lower my shoulders, stand up straight. She is my mother but she is also our enemy.
'Wanda?' She asks, almost a whisper, 'what are...how are you here? How are you...you're alive?'
'Me and Pietro survived. We thought you were dead. How are you here? What happened?' I ask, slowly sinking to my knees. She looks down at me from the chair she's tied up in.
'Pietro's here? You're both...Why are you here? What have they done to you?' She asks, her voice turning vicious.
'Pietro's dead. He died a couple years ago.' I say, not wanting to provide hope where there is none, 'and I'm doing good things. I'm helping people. Saving people. What about you? You...you're messing with that boy's mind.'
'He's collateral. Tony Stark deserves punishment, and this is it. His reckoning. Now he has to watch the destruction of his own life. Just as I did. As we did.' She looks down at me, tears in her eyes. She truly does care for me still. But she hasn't found the forgiveness I had for Tony.
'How do we help the boy? How do we reverse this?' I ask, placing one hand on her knee. Pleading with her.
'You want to reverse it? After what Stark did to us? To our family?' She asks, angry, 'we would still be a family if not for him. Your father would not be dead. I would have had my children with me. Tony Stark ruined our life, and I'll ruin his.'
'Mother, it is not too late.' I say, desperate. I want her to hear me, to understand it how I do. But I see the anger goes far deeper than mine ever did. I always had Pietro. She was alone.
'I thought you of all people would understand.' She says, her tone turning disapproving. She looks behind me, avoiding eye contact. 'Do what you want. There's no cure.'
'Mother, please there must be-' I try, pleading.
'I'm not your mother at your convenience. It's clear you didn't value this family as I did. I'm doing this for your father and your brother. And you.' She says, maintaining a monotone voice.
'If you think Pietro would condone this, you are wrong.' I say, 'we will find a cure, with or without your help. And I will prove to you that Tony deserves our forgiveness. You are still my mother, even if you do not consider me your daughter.'
She stays silent for a moment and I linger. My hand rests on her knee still. And then I rise and turn to the door, leaving the room and closing the door behind me. The tears come instantly, as I sink to the floor and desperately miss my family.