Chapter 28

                                    

                                          
||"Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you find an edge to cut you."||
                          
The car ride back to the compound was even worse than the car ride to the school, but by this point, Wanda didn't even care. 
                          
When Jean had gotten into her head—into her emotions—she'd felt a huge sense of invasion. It felt so personal to have someone slip into her head like that, and it even felt worse for that person to be horrified by what they saw and felt. 
                          
Is this what the team had felt like after Wanda showed them their fears? Is this what she did to them?
                          
Her head groaned with exhaustion, and she could still taste the power of her magic in the back of her throat—a warm tang of blood and coal. 
                          
The file the Professor had given her sat in her lap, and her fingers ran over the smooth folder. She hadn't looked inside yet, but she knew that her first day was going to be on Monday. What exactly did the Professor intend to do with her? What was Jean going to pull out of her mind? The questions turned her exhaustion into a headache.
                          
Emma parked the car just outside of the training building, and Crystal was out of the car before Emma had the chance to turn the engine off. Wanda unbuckled herself from her seat and clasped the folder, eager to see the others—to see Steve.
                          
"I'll make you some lunch, and then we'll look over this schedule. Okay?" Pietro took the folder from her hands and waited for her to look at him, but she just simply nodded her head and climbed out of the car. As she walked down into the underground garage, she could hear Emma and Pietro murmuring to each other, maybe about her. She wasn't sure. 
                          
Steve was in her bedroom, his uniform on, his shield at his feet. Her heart sank, but she forced a smile when his head moved up. 
                          
"Hi," she said, moving forward, and she stepped into his open arms and relaxed against his body. "Are you leaving?" He mumbled a yes into hair, and she pulled away enough to look at his face. "Where?"
                          
"D.C," he answered, and she tried to hold back her frown. "Bucky has a few meetings with an agency down there, and I told him I would go with him. The meetings were scheduled weeks ago, and if I'd known you were coming back, I would have declined..."
                          
"Don't be silly," she said, wrapping her fingers around his hand. "I'm going to be extremely busy now, and we probably wouldn't have had a lot of time together anyway."
                          
"Doesn't mean we can't make time," he said, leaning down pick her up. She squealed, grabbing onto him as he brought her over to the bed. "I will always have time for you."
                          
She kissed him, deeply, her hands grabbing his face and holding him close. The taste of him sent ripples of pleasure through her, pushing away the flavor of her chaos—pushing away all of her worries. 
                          
In the hour they had together, they kissed and laughed and played around. And in that hour, Wanda had completely forgotten about her current situation; she had forgotten about Pietro's suffocating concern for her; she had forgotten about Crystal and Emma, and she had forgotten about everything that made her want to scream. 
                          
Steve took all of her pain away, and it ached her to know that once he left, she'd be back in her world of chaos and fear. 
                          
"I'm having Natasha update me on everything, so if anything goes wrong, or if you need me, I'll come back. You just say the word and I'll be on the first flight back to New York."
                          
Wanda handed him his shield, and he set it on his back and looked over to the framed picture on her bookshelf. She followed his gaze, and she felt her face warm up with a light of joy that the picture always brought her.