ASCENDANCY / P. MAXIMOFF

home front

"I'm done! I'm so sick and fucking tired of being the one mistreated, left behind, abandoned! I'm so sick, of being the loser!" Ana sobbed out hysterically, meaning every word she told him. "I know, with your plan, that there is no winners. That we are all going to fucking die. But I want to be on the right side of this."

Ultron narrowed his beady little eyes at Anastazya, sizing her up and down.

"How do I know I can trust you?" He mused. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"That's the thing," Ana choked out. "You won't. And if you don't believe me, please just kill me now. But if there's a part of you that thinks that you can trust me, give me something to do. Someone to kill, something to burn. Anything. I'll do it, in a heartbeat, I will do it."

Ultron let out a hum. "You seem to have preference," He mused, circling around her like a predator circles his prey. "Why so eager to die tonight, Anastazya? Why so eager to kill?"

"There was a part of me, artificially constructed, that's been telling me to do the right thing all this time. That part is gone now, I'm not a damn Avenger anymore! There is not a right thing to do! They are callow, they are naive. They want to save the world, when they are really just burying its troubles. They try to do the right thing, yet they falter, falter, and fall. Like I said, I'm sick of being on the losing side."

Ultron nodded in approval. "They were cruel to you, yes? Is that what persuaded you to switch sides so rapidly? If you could hold one of the perpetrators souls in your hand right now, whose would you choose?"

Ana's eyes darkened, and a foul sneer spread across her lips. She chuckled under her breath, a lone tear rolling down the plump of her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it away.

"Clint. Clint Barton."

24 HOURS EARLIER

Pietro sat in silence, smoothing back Ana's hair with one hand, the other hand holding her to him. He had been listening closely to the storm. The cracking of hail hitting the barn roof, the winds hissing through the trees. The snow falling relentlessly, piling up in front of the door. In the past hour, those sounds ceased, making Pietro believe that the storm had given them a break. He shook Ana slightly.

"Wake up Ana," He whispered. When she stayed still, he shook her again. "Wake up, Anastazya. The storm has stopped."

She made no sign of moving again.

"Ana? Wake up, love. We g-get to go home now," He stuttered, panic rising up in him. What was wrong? Why was she not waking up?

The panic in him ceased when he heard a soft snore coming from her lips. He sighed in relief.

When was the last time Ana had really slept? Pietro thought it over. At Tony's base, she had been unresponsive for days, but Pietro wouldn't count that as sleep. When Natasha tried to get Ana to nap, she just stayed up talking to him instead.

Farther. Go back farther, He told himself.

Before the rescue plan, they were working non-stop on a plan with Phil. Before that, they were fleeing from Maria's home. Before that, Pietro had woken Ana up, after they had both gotten around four hours of sleep.

And that was six days ago.

He sighed, slowly getting to his feet with Ana in his arms. Pietro had gotten his strength back, the storm seemed to have lightened. He could carry her back home. She needed the sleep.

Pietro opened the barn door with his free hand, and jogged out of it. The trek home would feel very long, when in all reality, Ana had only run about 2 miles out. They had traveled another mile to get to the barn. Three miles shouldn't be so difficult, yeah?