Venomous

34. Reunions

a/n: Content warning, angsty. I've had a rough day emotionally and, like all would-be writers, I'm taking it out on my characters. I apologize in advance, and will happily explain to your therapist what happened when they ask for payment.

(Natasha)

Eventually, for my sake as well as everyone else's, I had to leave the medbay to at least shower. Parker's recovery was taking longer than expected. Well, longer than I expected anyway. Her vitals were stable, and all of her tests and scans showed that her internal wounds had healed rather quickly. Barely a scar was left on her abdomen. Her bones had reset themselves – a feeling I was now intimately acquainted with, having just experienced it myself.

A day turned into a week, which turned into two. I was just coming out of my room after having snagged a couple hours of sleep, Friday assuring me that she'd notify me of any significant change. Or any change whatsoever. I'd take anything at this point, as long as it wasn't a turn for the worse. I noticed commotion from the lounge area, and I headed that direction, stopping by the kitchen for another cup of coffee. I lost track of my sleep cycle, my training regimen, and my caffeine intake. I smirked to myself. Parker would kill me if she knew, always harping on me to take care of myself. I sighed, stirring the zero ingredients in my black coffee. I stared down at the cup, shaking my head. I needed to get a grip.

Sipping gingerly on the scalding drink, stopping short as I got my first look into the lounge. Vision was back. He had been on a mission of some sort for several months now. He left shortly after Ultron was defeated, and this was his first time back at the compound in quite some time. He was all smiles as he exchanged banter with the boys, and he smiled at me genuinely when our eyes met. I noticed him glancing around the room frequently, however. He was looking for someone, and my money was on Wanda.

"Wanda," Vision's single word could be heard over Sam's no-doubt hilarious and obviously 100% factual story. I glanced over my shoulder, following Vision's line of site, to see the witch in the kitchen behind me. She was making tea, her eyes were down, she had most definitely been crying. She hadn't noticed yet. At the sound of his voice, however, her head lifted abruptly, and the tea cup was holding clattered to the ground. Wanda instinctively bent to pick up the pieces, but I interrupted her.

"Go ahead," I murmured softly. "I've got this."

Wanda and I had come to an uneasy truce, of sorts. We didn't talk much, but truthfully, we never really had, so that wasn't much of a change. But every day without fail, Wanda came to the medbay and sat, waiting for Parker to wake up, for hours. Sometimes Wanda would sit beside Parker's bed, and I would use that time to rest to give her some privacy. We never spoke more than a handful of words to each other, but neither of us were making any murder attempts, so things appeared to be improving. Wanda glanced at me, an unreadable expression on her face. If I had to guess, it was a mixture of anger and gratitude, which was a strange combination – even for her.

Instead of speaking, Wanda merely nodded moving past me carefully, ensuring that we wouldn't brush against each other or make any contact at all. I tensed involuntarily, and both of us sighed. Some team. I just hoped things would improve when Parker woke up. I watched as Vision gently cupped Wanda's face in his hands as he smiled down at her. Once more, her eyes flooded with tears, and he frowned. The two walked away together, no doubt to catch him up on what was happening, and the unnaturally quiet mood of the compound.

I backtracked to the kitchen, refilling my now-empty coffee cup and wiping up the mess left by Wanda's spilled tea, and its cup, finally grabbing my coffee and making my way back to medbay. I shifted in my chair after a couple of hours, uncurling one leg and moving the other beneath me as I glanced through a magazine. I glanced up to see steel blue eyes staring at me, and I yelled much louder than intended in surprise, the magazine fluttering to the ground, forgotten.