When Wanda opened her eyes again, all she could see was a pure white ceiling. A faint, pleasant scent filled the air.
Her head felt heavy, as if someone had pounded it with a hammer, and her body was so weak that even lifting a single finger seemed impossible.
"Pietro…" she whispered instinctively.
"I'm here, Wanda," a familiar voice replied nearby.
Wanda struggled to turn her head and saw Pietro lying on the bed beside her. His face was equally pale, but he had regained consciousness.
"Where… are we?" Wanda tried to sit up.
"Don't move," Pietro pressed her gently.
"I think… we're at Stark's place."
His voice carried a note of uncertainty and confusion.
At that moment, the door to the room opened.
Tony entered slowly, carrying a tray. He wore casual clothes and a confident smile.
"Well, well, look who finally woke up."
He placed the tray on the bedside table. On it were two cups of warm milk and some bland-looking nutritional biscuits.
"How do you feel? Sleep well?" He asked in the tone of an elder caring for younger kin.
"Any discomfort? For example, does seeing my handsome face make your heart race or breathing difficult?"
Wanda and Pietro remained silent, wary.
They subtly tried to sense their powers—but to their horror, the abilities that had once been their pride were now dormant, impossible to summon.
"Don't bother trying," a lazy voice came from the doorway.
Henry leaned against the frame, hands in pockets, observing them at ease.
"That little thing around your neck?" He nodded at the collars they were wearing.
"It's my brother's latest invention. Simple version: it's a calm-down ring. Any thoughts of doing something you shouldn't—like blowing this place up or turning us into kebabs—it immediately makes you feel what it's like to have your limbs paralyzed and your life unmanageable."
Pietro's face instantly turned crimson. He struggled to sit up but found he had no strength at all.
"What are… you… doing?!"
"Doing?" Tony exaggeratedly shrugged.
"Of course, taking care of you."
He pulled up a chair and sat authoritatively at the foot of their beds.
"Listen, kids," he said, finally serious.
"I know you hate me. I know you hate Stark. And I know your past, what you went through. About that… I'm sorry."
For the first time, Tony spoke the words "I'm sorry" aloud. Wanda and Pietro froze—they hadn't expected this man, whom they saw as a devil incarnate, to apologize.
"But," Tony continued,
"sorry doesn't mean I owe you anything. It doesn't mean you can lay all the blame on me."
He began pacing.
"Yes, your home was destroyed by Stark Industries' shells—but the ones aiming at you were those damn terrorists. Your parents died in the war, and I'm sorry—but the war was started by HYDRA, Strucker, and the shadowy maniacs trying to manipulate the world."
"You aimed your hatred at me because I was the easiest target. That's understandable. Being forced to admit you were deceived, that you were used as instruments of revenge, is painful. And finding a tangible target for your hate is far easier."
"But now…" He paused, turning to look down at them.
"I'm giving you back the choice."
"You can continue to hate me, treat us as mortal enemies, and when you're well, I'll send you wherever you want. No ties between us."
"Or…" He smiled faintly.
"You can stay, see with your own eyes whether we're the monsters you imagined, and watch us take HYDRA off this Earth. We'll make those truly responsible for your tragedy pay."
"The path is there. How you walk it is up to you."
He stopped, leaving their beds and walked to the door.
"Oh, and one more thing." At the door, he pointed to the milk and biscuits.
"This is your breakfast. Don't say I'm cruel. Not tasty, maybe, but at least it fills your stomach."
With that, he and Henry left, leaving Wanda and Pietro staring at each other, faces full of confusion and complex emotions.
The door closed silently behind them, isolating the room from the oppressive atmosphere outside.
Tony exhaled, his feigned seriousness instantly melting into relief. He tugged at his collar as if he'd just survived a battle.
"Fuck," he muttered against the wall, exhausted.
"I swear, this is harder than arguing with those old fossils in Congress. I'd rather wrestle Hulk all day than play this damn psychological mentor role again."
Henry leaned casually against the opposite wall, hands in pockets, observing Tony's dramatic display.
"Oh really?" he teased.
"Because it looked like you were enjoying yourself a moment ago—pacing, lecturing, staring at the ceiling at forty-five degrees. Anyone watching would think you're a Broadway actor trapped in a day job."
"That's atmosphere! It adds weight and pressure to my words, makes them realize who's in charge!" Tony snapped, straightening.
"When dealing with rebellious teens, you need to dominate them. Show them who's… uh… the ruler of this house—or, this planet."
"So your way of dominating is serving bland biscuits and cheap warm milk?" Henry pointed out.
"I gotta say, your hospitality never disappoints. Next, I assume you'll hand them a game console each and let them game all night to win their hearts?"
"Not a bad backup plan!" Tony nodded seriously, and the two of them walked side by side toward the lab.
***
50 stones for bonus
If you're interested and wish to support me, you can read advanced chapters:
p-atreon.com/Redestro666