A Place In This World

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"I hope this room is big enough," Sam mumbles mostly to himself. The both of you were standing in what was your room, one down an endless corridor of rooms that belonged to your new team.

"You worry too much- I'll be fine."

"I want you to be comfortable here. Have your own space to get away from all the chaos that happens here."

"Look there's enough room for a bed and a desk. It's great," you assure him, enthusiastically nodding to hopefully placate Sam.

"That," he emphasizes, his eyes flickering to the foam mattress topper. "Is not a bed."

"It's good enough for me."

He nods, watching you for a moment to try to discern whether you're being genuine or you just don't want him to worry.

All your boxes are unpacked with the help of Sam when you hear a light knock at your door. You turn to see Wanda at the doorway, warmly smiling at you and Sam. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" she asks, looking directly at you.

"Uh, sure," you nod hesitantly. This was another conversation you were dreading, coming face-to-face with the person you'd injured. Even if it wasn't intentionally. Both Bucky and Sam told you over and over that Wanda did not hold what happened against you. You tried to digest that, to come to terms with what had happened, but it was more difficult than you were letting on.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sam asks, resting his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm not going to hurt her," Wanda scoffs playfully.

"You know I didn't mean it like that, just don't want any more weird-magic-y kind of incidents."

"I know, just teasing," Wanda smiles wryly at Sam. He looks at you one more time for reassurance, you nod again, silently letting him know that you'll be okay.

"How are you settling in?" she asks as Sam leaves the room.

"Pretty good," you smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you try to find the right words to say. The tension is palpable as you both realize this is the first actual conversation you'd ever had with each other. And you'd already gotten off on the wrong foot. But it was a terrible moment that you were desperate to put behind you and to do that, this conversation had to happen.

"I'm sorry," you both blurt at the same time. You and Wanda both chuckle as she takes a seat on your desk chair.

"What are you sorry for?" you question.

"It wasn't right to look in your head. I knew that. It was wrong, and there was no excuse for it."

"What I did wasn't right either. I really wasn't trying to hurt you. It's all new to me," you begin explaining. "Using the powers, being out here. It's all..."

"Overwhelming?" she offers.

"Exactly."

"You know, I do understand what you're going through. Being here the compound, the U.S. It's overwhelming. And I used to think of myself, and the world really, in one absolute way. Similar to how you think of yourself. Only capable of being one thing- good or bad. My powers, the world," she says, a small glow emanating from the palm of her hand. "It was either good or bad."

"Do you still think like that?" you ask, staring at your own palm.

"I went through what I imagine you went through, what you are going through. I dropped a building on civilians, people died because of my mistake," she solemnly confesses.

"What did you do?"

"I felt guilty for a very long time. I was afraid of myself- people were afraid of me, and suddenly I was something else. Still me, but not quite. And being here in the Compound, surrounded by people who have wronged each other, fought against each other, only to come together later- it wasn't easy for me."

You profusely shake your head. "I saw the way Tony and Steve looked at me, like they were scared...of me. I feel like I just proved them right about me."

"You didn't," Wanda interjects immediately. "They are not right."

"Right," you mumble, nervously twisting and untwisting your fingers. "You know about them."

"I shouldn't have looked in your head," she repeats, and you believe her. You believe that the whole thing was just a freak accident that probably could have been avoided- on both of your parts. You'd just never hurt another person like that before, it was a tough pill to swallow.

"It's okay," you say, offering Wanda a small smile. "I shouldn't have forced the air out of your lungs. Or made everyone search the woods for me."

She chuckles, feeling more at ease with your warm demeanor. "You're very open- it's refreshing."

"Mm...It's more like I don't quite comprehend the complexities and nuances of modern-day social constructs and norms- or at least that's what I was told," you cheekily remark, slightly wrinkling your nose as you remember the remarks of the many psychologists and therapist you'd seen since you joined the outside world.

"And funny too."

"So you don't hate me?"

"You don't hate me?" Wanda counters.

"I don't hate anyone."

"Not even the people who took your life away?" Wanda asks before she can think to stop herself.

"Not even them," you vaguely admit. It was hard to hate people you didn't know. You just couldn't bring yourself to hate them, if you hated them, if you allowed that to take root inside you, you weren't sure that you could ever stop. And then they would be right about you.

"I suppose you're better than most."

"I don't think that's true."

"It is," she corrects, standing up off your chair. "You should remember that."

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