The Neighbor

Chapter 96

The vibranium medical table beneath you is cold, unyielding, its smooth metallic surface pressing into your back as you lie still, trying to focus on the rhythm of your breathing instead of the sharp sting of nerves prickling down your spine. The air in Shuri's lab is sterile yet warm, the advanced Wakandan technology humming softly all around you, casting faint, shifting blue lights over the polished black floors.

Above you, holographic monitors display the intricate details of your body, your vitals, the unnatural glow of the artificial stone embedded in your chest pulsing in tandem with your heartbeat. It is both a part of you and something foreign, something wrong, something that does not belong.

Your heart races.

The weight of the moment settles into your bones, pressing down on your chest like an unseen force. It's happening. There is no turning back.

And Wanda knows it too.

She hovers over you, her presence all consuming, her breath warm against your cheek, her body pressed against your side as if she could anchor you here, keep you from slipping away. Her emerald green eyes burn into yours, deep and raw with fear, with love, with something on the verge of breaking.

Her lips find your forehead first, soft, lingering, her breath hitching slightly against your skin. Then she moves lower, pressing another kiss to your temple, then your cheek, her fingers gripping your hand so tightly it almost hurts.

"You're okay," she whispers, but she's not sure if she's saying it for you or for herself.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting her warmth consume you, letting yourself pretend, just for a second, that there is no risk, no war outside these walls, no forty three percent chance of this being the last time you ever hold her hand.

But you can't pretend. Not when you can feel her shaking. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to steady your voice. "I know."

It's a lie. She knows it too. Her lips part like she wants to say something else, something final, something pleading, but before she can, a sharp scoff cuts through the suffocating silence.

"You know, I can think of at least a dozen other ways to spend a morning," Natasha mutters, arms crossed over her chest, standing at the edge of the room like a soldier assessing a battlefield. Her stance is stiff, her jaw clenched, her sharp green eyes flickering between you and the medical equipment like she's expecting something to go wrong at any moment.

Beside her, Yelena looks less composed, less indifferent. Her arms are crossed too, but her fingers dig into her sleeves, her brow furrowed so deeply that the frustration in her voice comes out as sharp as a blade.

"This is a bad idea," Yelena states flatly, shaking her head. "A really bad idea."

Natasha doesn't disagree.

She just stares at you, silent, but you see it, the tightness in her expression, the way her fingers curl slightly against her arms, the way she won't let herself look at the medical restraints that will soon lock you into place.

"You could still run," Natasha offers, voice unreadable. "I could take out half this lab in under a minute."

You force a small, wry smile. "I don't think that would help much."

Natasha huffs sharply. "It'd make me feel better."

Yelena lets out a scoff, gesturing vaguely toward the monitors, toward the entire room. "It would make all of us feel better. But nooo, you have to be all noble and self sacrificing, like some tragic hero." She exhales sharply, shaking her head. "Do you even understand how much this could go wrong?"