Chapter Text
“Mom, look!”
“Billy?”
“Come here mom, hurry!”
“Tommy? Where are you?”
“Hurry mom, hurry!”
“Where are you!?”
“Mom, look.”
“Who…”
“Do you see him, mom?”
“Boys…”
“Look mom! Do you see him?”
“Who are you?”
………………….
Wanda woke with a sharp gasp, sitting upright in bed, eyes wide. Her chest hurt and she looked frantically around her room, searching. It took her long moments to ground herself. To remember that she was in the Avengers tower, Dr. Strange took the Darkhold from her and Vision and her children were dead.
“Do you see him, mom?”
And a man in strange armor just appeared in her dream of Westview.
She shook it off and forced herself out of bed. It’s hard to sleep when she dreams of them. Her children. She could barely function the following day, all but drowning in her grief. But she had to, because there’s no doubt in her mind that even a single hint that she might be slipping and the Avengers would tell Dr. Strange who will…
She doesn’t know what he’ll do to her. She doesn’t think she wants to find out.
“Good morning, Miss Maximoff,” FRIDAY said in a cheerful tone. Too cheerful, considering Wanda’s own mood. “Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner are located in the kitchen having breakfast, if you would like to join them. Miss Romanoff and Mr. Barton left early this morning for a SHIELD mission and Mr. Stark is in his lab.”
“Thanks,” Wanda mumbled. She wasn’t really in the mood to be around anyone but she also knew that FRIDAY would tattle if she didn’t have breakfast. So, with a sigh, she got dressed and headed out to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” Steve greeted with a gentle smile. “Want anything specific?”
“I can make myself breakfast,” she told him with perhaps more venom than she had been intending. She didn’t apologize, just ducking her head and heading into the kitchen, sliding bread into the toaster and trying to ignore the eyes she could feel on the back of her head.
“Mom, look.”
“Who…”
“Do you see him, mom?”
“Boys…”
“Look mom! Do you see him?”
“Who are you?”
She rubbed her eyes, exhausted, plating her toast with little enthusiasm when it’s finished, slapping some butter on it then taking the plate out and past Steve and Bruce, back to her room. She didn’t want to sit with them. She didn’t want them to ask how she is or make conversation.
More than anything, she didn’t want to pretend she was okay . She closed the door, ate her toast, then abandoned the plate on the bedside table to crawl back beneath the sheets. She didn’t emerge until lunch. At least they didn't try to talk to her this time.
She ate in her room again anyway.
“Mom, look!”
“Billy?”
“Come here mom, hurry!”
“Tommy? Where are you?”
“Hurry mom, hurry!”
“Where are you!?”
She’s so tired.
………………
“Mom, hurry, this way!”
Westview is empty.
“Mom, come quickly!”
There’s no one around.
“Billy? Tommy? Where are you?”
It’s so quiet . Every day, her dreams are the same. She wanders through an abandoned Westview, following the shouts of her children but never able to reach them before the dream ends. Nothing ever changes.
“Mom!”
Until today.
“Look!”
She follows the voices to the town square. Where everything ended. Where everything was taken away.
“Who is he?”
And this is where it changes. Because there’s a man. So long has she spent staring at deserted streets that the sight of the sun glinting off black, gold, and green attire catches her off guard and she halts in her tracks, eyes wide.
“I think he needs help.”
There’s never been anyone else here before. Just the disembodied voices of her boys as she wanders in search of them, lost and hopeless. But even when she was still in Westview, when she had everything she wanted, there was never anyone like this .
“You have to help him, mom!”
“Hello?” She approaches warily. Cautiously. She sees now that he’s wearing armor. Scratched and worn, as though it has endured battle. A golden, gleaming helmet with curved horns sits atop his head. “Who are you?” She can just barely see the tips of black hair poking out from beneath.
“He needs help, mom, you have to help him!”
“Who are you?”
He turns. Green eyes are the last thing Wanda sees before she wakes, heart racing. She jerked up in bed, as always, but this time it’s not her boys she searched the room for but instead the strange man. She found nothing. Her lungs heaved. How long had she been having these dreams now? Ever since they took Westview from her, certainly, and they were only exacerbated by the Darkhold. But she’d never dreamt of this man before. It’s distracting. Disorienting. He consumed her thoughts through the entirety of the day and he hadn’t even uttered a word .
“He needs help, mom, you have to help him.”
Her boys had never said anything like that before. Usually they just begged her to hurry, to follow them. They never wanted her to go to something before. To some one . She walked through her day in a haze. That had been her typical state for months, the Avengers barely noticed anything was off.
She’d never dreamt of the man before. She’d never seen him before in her life. It was…different. She wasn’t sure if she liked it. Why would her dreams change so suddenly and with no clear reason? Who was he? Was he a manifestation of the Darkhold, appearing after all this time? But no, he felt different. He didn’t feel like the Darkhold. At least…she didn’t think so.
So then…who was he?
………………….
Her dreams follow the same pattern. Her boys call for her and she follows them into the street where the man stands. Sometimes he looks at her, the dream usually ending shortly after that. Other times, he doesn’t seem aware of her presence at all.
The more she dreams about him, the more she picks up. The more she realizes that he’s powerful. She can’t tell how but it's more than just strength. She thinks…she thinks it might be magic.
“He needs help, mom, you have to help him!”
And she thinks he might be in a lot of trouble.