Losing someone you care about is never easy, but when the first death you experience is from a young age, the pain is slightly different. The understanding of it, recognizing it, makes losing someone all the more painful, just in a different way.

When Wanda and Pietro were orphaned, they were devastated. Pietro was mostly angry, all appalling and bitterness and muscle. Wanda was emotional, weepy and saddened. As difficult as it was, they survived, almost easily, both adapting the stubbornness of their father and the intelligence of their mother. Nothing could overcome them when they were together.

And then they weren't.

Losing your other half, your soulmate in blood and bone, was something that rocked Wanda to her core. They were born together; she'd always believed they'd died together. Sokavia had different plans, and it left her splintered, shattered.

Vision was her second chance.

He showed her a softness she hadn't ever felt, a love that was different from the type she had with her parents and brother. In his arms she was safe, she was looked after. Everyone in the world viewed her as a weapon, a threat. But when Vision kissed her, nothing could convince her that she was anything but ordinary, and that's all she ever wanted.

It's no wonder she died a little when she lost him, too.

She secluded herself to the small room of the compound when she came back from the snap. The world was safe, the world returned to its previous state before Thanos. Well, everyone's world except hers.

She thought of them often, nightmares and tears plaguing her every night. Listing them all down, she jotted the names of those who were important to her, those that she had left, slashing the names of those where gone.

Pietro
Vision
Natasha
Steve
Clint

She tried not to be angry that Clint left the compound. He had a family, after all, a family that wasn't her, and she was happy that he was happy. It didn't mean his absence didn't hurt.

Training everyday seemed to help. She joined Bucky and Yelena in missions occasionally, but the casualties that inevitably happen always shook her, made her sick. She stayed in bed for nearly three days after failing to catch a woman who fell from a blast, her head landing on rubble, cracking on the left side, her blood spritzing like a water gun.

While she was kind, Yelena didn't seem to understand Wanda's gloomy disposition. They were friends, but Yelena couldn't help but scoff at the tears that seemed to pool in Wanda's eyes at the end of every mission. She tried her best to be supportive, even if she didn't completely fathom the grief, and that earned her a spot on Wanda's list.

Bucky seemed to be the opposite. Wanda never saw him cry, but sometimes she could hear him, muffled sobs echoing off the steel walls of the compound down the hall from her own. Some nights, when she woke up crying, Wanda considered reaching out to him, but the fear of misunderstanding made her pause. She wondered if he heard her cry, too, because after partially bad nights, she found more often than not fruit cut up on a plate, left in the center of the dining table. He never confirmed his actions, but one time he walked into the kitchen early in the morning, and when he spotted her lifting a melon slice to her mouth, he had grinned before silently retrieving his coffee, and exiting the room.

She wrote his name down easily.

Staring down at the paper, Wanda realized she had many many weaknesses. Every single name on that list was something that could be used to harm her, torture her. She folded it quietly, tucking it in the bottom drawer of her dresser, hoping to forget its existence, the list of her undoing.

It took time for Bucky to work his way into her heart deeper than he already was. For a long time, he was just a name on the list; someone of importance. Time is fickle, the way it can change things, and it changed the way she viewed him. It became easier to breathe when he was in a room. Her heart ached more now when she heard him sob at night, so much so that she'd creep from her room, settle in front of his door. Sometimes she'd just sit there, listening to the way his cries bounced off the walls, other times she'd knock. He never answered, but his sobs eventually subsided, and she knew her presence helped in some way.

The fruit plates became more frequent, random apples and oranges showing up in her bedroom occasionally. She couldn't help the smile that they evoked. Wanda didn't understand why he tried so hard, didn't know why he stared at her with such piercing and entering eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. It confused her how he jumped at every opportunity to be partnered with her, and her heart stuttered every time he put his own safety below hers. Sometimes he'd smile at her, and the fear of his generosity gripped her ferociously.

It confused her deeply, because this was not the Bucky she had heard about. The Bucky she had come to like, to care for, was soft. The Bucky she had heard about was steel, a hardened killing machine. The stories seemed like two completely different people.

Wanda sipped from the mug that was stuck between her palms, the hot liquid warming her skin. Bucky laid out on the couch, his feet across Yelena's lap as the super spy flicked through the channels on the TV.

The mission hadn't been awful, but it was long, a few things going haywire. Yelena had her hand pressed to the bandaged portion of Bucky's leg, and Wanda tried not to feel guilty as she watched them, her head still pounding. He'd been injured taking a bullet for her. She'd been too distracted, too focused on the danger in front of her that she hadn't noticed the ground guns reloading. She remembered being thrown out of the way, the side of her head colliding with the ground, and through her blurry vision, she saw him on the floor beside her, blood pooling through his pants.

Wanda was always prepared for a mission to be her last; she knew she was too sloppy, unfocused. What she wasn't prepared for was Bucky. The damn soldier just couldn't let her die. She knew almost for a fact that Bucky had a list of his own, and it scared her that her name was probably on his.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda stretched her neck, knowing full well no matter how tired her body was she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. Yelena yawned, raising her hands above her head before chucking the remote to the side. She placed her hand on Bucky's leg again, massaging gently, and Wanda was appalled at the jealousy that twisted in her gut.

She gave Yelena a thick smile. "You two would be a cute couple."

Yelena blanched, eyes growing twice the size and she let out a sharp laugh. She glanced at a still sleeping Bucky, then back at Wanda, before letting out another laugh, her hand over her lips. "You've got to be joking."

Wanda shrugged, lifted her mug again.

Yelena shook her head, laughing more. "No, no, no. Is that why you're hesitant? You think me and him are...together?"

Wanda felt her cheeks burn, and she hated the way the other girl was staring at her.

Yelena sighed, craning her neck back. "Oh, Wanda. Don't you know?"

Lifting a brow, Wanda cocked her head, but said nothing. Saying nothing was safe, gave nothing away. shifting, Yelena gently lifted Bucky's legs off her lap, placing them on the couch. He stirred, his eyes still scrunched, and a few words in another language escaped his mouth. Sitting beside her, Yelena gave her a gentle smile.

"It's you, Уважаемые," she said quietly, and wanda felt her skin prick at the kindness in the other girls voice. "He's always had his eyes for you. He and I are simply two people with an understanding. But you and him?" Yelena let out a low whistle, clicking her teeth. "You two are an entirely different story."

Wanda gaped at her words, clutching the mug like it was a life line. This wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't supposed to feel like that, not for her. Anyone but for her.

Yelena yawned, cracked her fingers. "I think I'll head to bed," she hummed, standing slowly before giving Wanda a small grin. "I know it's probably scary, not being able to control what you feel. But...maybe give him a chance."

Wanda tried to smile but it felt odd, pulling at muscles that didn't get used very often. Maybe Yelena was right. Maybe the risk would be worth it, having those deep feelings for someone. She felt like she'd been in a constant cycle of loneliness. Was Bucky lonely, too?

Yelena smacked the uninjured side of Bucky's leg lightly, and he jumped slightly, sleepy eyes cracking open.

"Time for bed, ребенок," Yelena said, giving Wanda one last knowing look. "See you in the morning."

The spy shuffled away, leaving the two of them alone. Bucky sat up, his dog tags sliding into view against his t-shirt as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Wanda watched his movement, taking in the way his left arm whirred quietly with every motion, and the way his muscles flexed in the low light of the television.

Catching herself, she abruptly stood, turning to take leave to her own room. She placed her half full mug on the counter, gripping the edge before glancing at him over her shoulder. He was watching her, brown eyes void of anger or fear or despair. Something else was placed there, something she could have sworn she'd seen before from another man that was taken from her too soon.

She looked away, her back to him as she slowly exited to the room. Pausing by the doorframe, she cleared her throat, gripping bravery by the reigns and pulling.

"Goodnight, James."

A beat of silence passed, and she winced.

"Goodnight, Wanda," he replied. His voice was riddled with sleep, and she heard him shift slightly. "Sleep well."

She bit her lip to repress the smile that she knew was growing and walked out of the room.