Two of a Kind | Wanda Maximoff

Chapter 13: The Accords

About a month passed after the incident in Lagos before Wanda started showing her face around the compound. She hadn't been allowed to go on missions for a while, which she almost insisted on, and instead spent the time training alone in one of the many training rooms. Usually, when she trained at the compound, she made sure that she was alone, but today, she couldn't help but notice Steve's presence watching her as she trained.

Wanda positioned her hands on the bag, finding the middle and steadying it, before pulling her fist back and striking the bag hard. She repeated the process, hitting the bag harder with each punch, letting out pent up anger and frustration with each hit. The punching bag swung backwards with each strike of Wanda's fists. She was sweating hard and her fists started to hurt, but she didn't care.

She channeled all her anger and pain into each punch, imagining that she was punching the face of her worst enemy (which if she was being honest, shifted to various people after each punch, included her own). Wanda delivered the final punch, sending the bag flying off the hook and landing a few feet away from her, spilling its contents. Wanda stood in the same spot as before, panting hard as sweat dripped down her face, her eyes glowing a dark red.

Steve cleared his throat from the entrance of the training room. Wanda snapped her attention to him, and looked down at her hands, noticing the red mist that surrounded her fists. She turned towards the entrance and walked closer to Steve but turned slightly towards a bench. She sat down and grabbed a towel and wiped her brow, then she grabbed her water bottle and took a swift drink.

"That was impressive," he said as he sat down beside her. "You know, it's interesting to know someone else that can knock the bag off the hook." Wanda looked at him, then looked back at the bag staring at it.

"I used my powers; it doesn't count," she deadpanned, taking another sip of water.

"Your powers are part of you, of your strength. They always count." Steve looked over at Wanda and then followed her gaze to stare at the bag. He sighed deeply before speaking again. "It's good to see you back here."

"It's only been a month since the last time you saw me, Steve," Wanda said quietly.

"Yeah, I know, it's just we all missed you. Whether you think you are or not, you're a part of this family and we all care about you. I've noticed that the news still hasn't let up on you, and all I can think about is you watching that garbage thinking your nothing but the weapon that HYDRA made you to be..." Steve sighed again. He didn't know how to continue; surely she had gotten the point of what he was saying. Wanda smiled but her eyes didn't hold any humor or happiness; only pain.

"It's my fault," she said inhaling deeply, trying to keep the tears at bay. I will not be weak.

"That's not true," Steve countered with certainty.

"Watch the news sometime, Steve. They're being very specific."

"I should've clocked that bomb vest long before you had to deal with it." Wanda turned her attention to Steve and he leaned forward, clasping his hands and sighing. "Rumlow said 'Bucky' and...all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn. And people died. It's on me."

"It's on both of us," Wanda said taking one of his hands in her own. He looked up at her and smile a little.

"This job...We try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time...maybe nobody gets saved." Wanda felt a slight sense of comfort at Steve's words. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder and the two sat in silence, mulling over everything that was said. Suddenly, a red hand phased through the wall next to Wanda, causing the young woman to scream and jump up from the bench. Vision stood before her, dressed in semi-formal attire, looking between a shocked and scared Wanda and a mentally done Steve.