Two of a Kind | Wanda Maximoff

Chapter 8: Help

About six months have gone by since Lily's untimely death in Sokovia. The Avengers held together a private funeral/memorial service (Jemma wasn't sure what to call it since her body couldn't be covered from Sokovia) for only close friends and immediate family members, which was nice of them. During the span of those first few months without Lily, Jemma puttered around the empty apartment by herself. She couldn't bear to pack up Lily's things because whenever she did, the aching in her chest would return, sending Jemma into some kind of anxiety attack.

While Jemma knew and understood that Lily was dead, she still lived in denial, still hoping that one day she would hear the familiar sound of her key opening the door, see her familiar short black hair and gorgeous blue eyes and bright smile that made Jemma's knees weak. She kept holding out for Lily's return; the day that she would come back and scoop Jemma into her arms and tell her that everything that she endured the last few months as all just a bad dream. But that day would never come.

Jemma sat on the bed, a cardboard box sat on the floor in front of her, waiting to be filled with Lily's clothes and other things that Jemma didn't want to keep that would either be donated, put in storage, or simply thrown out. Next to Jemma on the bed sat every piece of clothing that Lily owned. That morning, Jemma awoke from another sleepless night and went into the closet and pulled everything out and dumped it on the bed. She had to do this sooner or later. She kept hearing Natasha's words to her as she rifled through every article of clothing, trying to decide if she wanted to keep it or throw it in the box; "Jemma, I know it hurts now, but the longer you wait the more it'll hurt. It needs to be done; we have to move on, you have to move on." She didn't know how she could move on. It hadn't even been that long. Lily had only been dead six months. Six months wasn't enough time to get over something like that, especially not when someone lost their significant other who they loved more than life itself.

She mostly did this for Natasha's sake and not her own. Through this time, the two women became closer, and the fear that Jemma had of the redhead melted as she got to know her. She knew that while Natasha was having a tough time progressing through the grief, Jemma was worse off, and Natasha hated seeing the younger woman hurting, so she thought clearing out her stuff would help. Maybe she was right.

The TV in the bedroom played loudly, a random sitcom tasked with drowning out Jemma's thoughts. It was safe to say that it failed at its one job, since Jemma was hardly paying attention to what was happening in the show. She couldn't even remember what show she was watching without looking up from the pile of clothes beside her. Jemma though back on how the vibe in the apartment used to be a whole lot different than what it is right now and had been for months. The air used to be happy and light and filled with love, but now...now it was heavy and depressing and Jemma always felt like she was drowning, suffocating in the stillness.

And Griffon, who also felt the change in atmosphere, suddenly found himself sniffing at Lily's things and looking a tad bit sad, as if he understood that she was gone and never coming back. Instead of laying on Jemma's side of the bed like he had become accustomed to, Jemma now found him curled up on Lily's side, usually laying his head on her pillow, trying to collect her fading scent from the fabric. They had never been close, but Lily was a constant in his life for three years, and now she was suddenly gone, and because he was a cat, Griffon didn't understand where she had gone and why Jemma was always so sad.

Jemma, having moved through the pile quickly, came across one of Lily's shirts. It wasn't particularly special in its design, but as Jemma gazed at the plainness of white blouse, she couldn't help the sobs that wracked her body. She brought the shirt up to her face, inhaling the scent of Lily's perfume. Jemma gasped as she tried to steady her breathing, but as she looked at the shirt she lost all control she had over her body. In addition to the tears, the shirt brought on a slideshow of memories that Jemma wasn't ready to receive.