The previous night, long after the manor had fallen silent under the weight of snow, Wanda had risen from her tower room.
Restless, she had drifted down the shadowed halls in her stocking feet, drawn by some quiet instinct to check on their guest one more time. The east wing was dark, save for the faint glow of dying embers in the guest-room fireplace spilling through the cracked door.
She paused at the threshold.
Inside, the firelight painted soft gold across bare skins. Natasha and Sam lay tangled in the wide bed, sheets twisted low around their hips. Natasha was astride him, moving with slow, deliberate rolls — head thrown back, red hair cascading down her spine like flame. Sam's hands gripped her waist, guiding but reverent, eyes fixed on her face as if she were the only real thing in the world.
Their breathing was quiet but unmistakable — soft gasps, the creak of the old bed, whispered names. It was tender, intense, utterly private.
Wanda watched for only a moment — long enough to see the way Natasha leaned down to kiss him deeply, the way Sam's fingers traced the curve of her back with wonder. A small, wistful smile touched Wanda's lips. She felt no intrusion, only a quiet ache of recognition: the sight of two people finding life again in each other's arms.
She turned away silently, pulling the door to its original crack, and returned to her tower without a sound but with a smile for tomorrow.
Morning light filtered weakly through the manor's tall arched windows, casting long pale rectangles across the stone floor of the kitchen. Snow fell in thick, silent flakes outside, muffling the world beyond. The air inside was warm, heavy with the scent of fresh-baked bread, strong coffee, and the faint, lingering trace of pine smoke from the ever-burning fireplaces.
Wanda stood at the massive iron stove, sleeves of her red jacket pushed to her elbows, stirring a pot of oatmeal with slow, absent motions. A big loaf of bread cooled on the oak counter beside her. Three mismatched porcelain cups waited on the long table, steam curling from the coffee she had just poured. Everything's done, she thought. Now she was waiting for the other two members of this manor.
Natasha entered quietly, barefoot on the cold stone, wearing one oversized borrowed T-shirts that hung to mid-thigh and soft gray leggings. Her red hair was tousled from sleep and other things, falling in loose waves around her shoulders.
Wanda glanced up as Natasha approached, and a small, knowing smile — soft and warm, with no hint of teasing — curved her lips.
"Good morning," Wanda said gently, sliding one of the cups across the scarred oak table. "Coffee's strong. I remembered how you like it. After all, the night was long yesterday."
Natasha paused, tried to found some hints about the words, but accepted the cup with both hands, wrapping her fingers around the warmth as nothing was mentioned by Wanda to be thinking about. "Thank you." She took a slow sip, eyes closing briefly in appreciation. "God, I missed real coffee."
Wanda nodded, turning back to the oatmeal for a moment before speaking again.
"How is he?"
"Still Sleeping deeply, I checked him on the way Coming down," Natasha answered without any traces of lie, leaning against the counter. "Finally without pain. Fever's completely gone. He'll be up soon, I think. He was already moving better already."
Wanda's expression softened with visible relief. "I am planning to check on him. I recon The scars are closing cleanly. It's bit of a miracle that he is not transformed."
Natasha met her gaze over the rim of her cup. "Yes. That's right. But there is a mystery about how he was not turned. I found something from the S.H.I.E.L.D database, it has lots of redactions..." She took a sip again, then said, "But, You've been incredible, Wanda. The healing, keeping this place running, giving us space, now the foods and the necessary shelter… I don't know how to thank you."
Wanda shook her head, the same small smile lingering. "You know, I was alone here. Sometimes, I talked with the walls. It's funny to remember actually. But, for last 10 days, It seems the life is coming back to these walls for Both of you. That's thanks enough." She paused, stirring the pot unnecessarily. "I've been alone so long I forgot what footsteps in the hallway sounded like. What it felt like to care whether someone woke up in the morning, or to talk with somebody.."
Natasha set her cup down and stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on Wanda's arm.
"Hey, you're not alone. Don't think like that."
Wanda's eyes glistened for a moment before she blinked it away. "Sure."
They stood in companionable silence for a beat, the only sounds the soft bubble of oatmeal and the distant crackle of a fireplace somewhere deeper in the manor.
Natasha took a breath, shifting to the reason she had come down early.
"There's something I need to show you. Before Sam joins us."
Wanda turned fully, giving her complete attention.
Natasha pulled the cracked data drive from her pocket and set it on the table between them.
"As I said, I found this months ago — downloaded from S.H.I.E.L.D database. Finally had power to crack it properly a few days ago. It's the fragments of a black project called Nova. It is based upon the Enhanced human operatives with neural augmentation, aggression overrides, pack coordination. We encountered some ferals with NV tattoos earlier… I think they were subjects. Test models."
Wanda's brow furrowed as she picked up the drive, turning it over in her fingers.
"I never heard the name Nova directly," she said slowly. "But Stark labs had dozens of buried programs, they were working alongside Starlabs. All of the possible researches you said, alongside Immunity research, behavioral control… things they were desperate near the end."
"But, if they had some progress in this case, the data was gone."
"Or, you can say, may be stolen.."
Natasha was confused by the words. She asked, "How are you so sure?"
Wanda out down her cup along with Natasha's cup, said, "I heard that Ra's al ghul was acquired some of the data. I overheard Fury talking with somebody about this thing. Now I think it may be the same data Fury was talking about.."
"There's more," Natasha continued, voice steady but serious. "I found one corrupted file fragment — it has some personnel cross-reference. I found Sam's last name. Peters. Listed as 'genetic contributor.' His parents names were classified, even I am not able to read the history."
Wanda's eyes widened slightly. She set the drive down carefully.
"That… changes things."
Natasha nodded. "It could be nothing. It may be a Protective cover for adoption. Or it could mean they were involved. Deeply. And... Sam is most likely a subject too."
Wanda stared at the table for a long moment, processing.
"I left a joint satellite lab in Utah a year ago," she said finally. "Jennifer, Kimiyo and Nat were still there when I walked out. They were working upon Gamma mutation stability and viral resistance models — exactly the kind of work that could overlap with something like Nova. If the records survived, if they survived… we can find something."
Natasha leaned forward. "What do you think? They're alive?"
"I don't know," Wanda admitted, regret shading her voice. "I remember We disagreed near the end. I wanted to push boundaries — bend reality if needed to find answers. They wanted caution, ethics, slow science. I left because it felt… pointless. But if there's any chance they kept data on Nova, on something connected to Sam… we have to go."
"We will," Natasha said. "As soon as Sam's strong enough to travel."
Wanda nodded slowly. "It's a long road. Dangerous. Storms are coming in two days — I can feel them building. We should leave before then."
Natasha glanced toward the window, watching snow swirl against the scarlet shimmer of the wards.
"One more thing," she said quietly. "The Dream Dimension — or whatever realm touches lost memories and souls. Can you search there for Sam's past? Find out what is the reason behind Sam's immunity?"
Wanda's expression darkened — shadows of past flickering across her face.
"The Dream Dimension is treacherous," she said. "More Stephen Strange's domain than mine. Chaos magic can open doors there, but visions twist. The Memories can lie. The Echoes can trap you."
She met Natasha's gaze steadily. "But I can try. For future. I will confirm with Sam once he awakes."
Natasha reached across the table, covered Wanda's hand with her own.
"Thank you."
Wanda squeezed back briefly, then glanced toward the snow-covered drive visible through the frosted window.
"The roads east," she said. "If we're going to Utah, we should leave soon. Can you scout the first stretch? Make sure the passes are clear?"
Natasha stood up from her chair.
"I'll take the truck. I will Check the main route, look for blockages or ferals. Will be Back by dusk. In the mean time, you can proceed with Sam."
She stepped into the hall, raised her voice toward the guest wing, then saw Sam came down through stairs.
"Sam! I am going to check for the road ahead. Stay safe, ok?"
Sam's sleepy, amused voice drifted back: "Am I not going with you?"
"For this time, no. You're still weak. But Wanda had a plan with you, so talk with her."
Wanda laughed softly — a rare, genuine sound that warmed the kitchen more than the stove, "No problem, Natasha. He will be more safe with me than you."
Natasha grinned and went upstairs.
Sam smiled towards Wanda, "Good morning, ma'am."
"Good morning, Sam. Feeling good now?"
Sam slowly sit back on a chair, "As you can see, I am fine, but the pain is still lingering".
They were started talking, but Wanda became zone out as she was suddenly started thinking about the scene she saw last night, but came back to reality very soon, as she saw Natasha pulled on boots and gloves, said, "Bye Wanda, Bye Sam." and headed out into the cold. The truck rumbled to life, tires crunching over fresh snow as she disappeared down the hill, the manor's scarlet door was parting and resealing behind her like a living curtain. Sam and Wanda saw the truck leave inside the window.
The guest room was quiet in the late morning light, snow still falling softly beyond the tall windows.
Sam sat propped against the headboard, shirtless, the last bandages removed to reveal pink, healing scars that crisscrossed his chest like faint lightning. He looked stronger — color in his cheeks, eyes clear, the fever's shadow finally gone.
Wanda knocked lightly on the open door before entering. She wore a simple deep-red sweater that hung loose on her slender frame, sleeves pushed to her elbows, paired with soft black leggings and thick wool socks. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose braid that fell over one shoulder, a few strands escaping to frame her pale face. Around her neck hung a thin silver chain with a small scarlet pendant — an anchor for her magic, glowing faintly even in daylight.
She carried a small wooden tray: two steaming mugs of herbal tea and a plate of fresh honey bread.
"Are you busy?" she asked again as she was already halfway across the room.
Sam smiled, sitting up straighter. "No ma'am. I was just checking my wounds again... ohh, thank you..!"
She set the tray on the bedside table and handed him a mug. The tea smelled of chamomile and something earthier — a calming blend she had grown in the manor's greenhouse.
"How do you feel?" she asked, settling into the armchair beside the bed.
"I am alive again," he said. "Thanks to both of you."
Wanda shook her head. "Thanks to the time. And Natasha's stubbornness." She sipped her tea, then met his eyes directly. "Listen Sam, Natasha asked me something. You know anything about the dream dimension?"
"No..", a short answer.
Wanda started again, "So.. this dimension carries fragments about our dreams, our Past memories, our interactions, holds some thoughts about our future. The path is too much complicated, we need to navigate it properly. So.. if we need to get some answers about your past, this will be a good way. Do you want to go there ?"
Sam's expression grew serious. "Yeah. I… I don't even know if I want to know. But I need to."
Wanda nodded, understanding in her gaze.
"It's dangerous," she said quietly. "The Dream Dimension isn't like scrying or simple visions. It's a place where minds and memories overlap. Thoughts become real. Fears take shape. I can open the door, guide us through, but if something… pulls at old wounds… I am skeptical about it too.." She trailed off, fingers tightening around her mug.
Sam reached out, covered her hand with his.
"We don't have to Ma'am. Not if it's too much."
Wanda looked at their joined hands for a long moment, then squeezed back gently.
"No. We do. For you. And for what your existence might mean." She drew a slow breath. "We'll do it together. You'll anchor me. I'll anchor you."
Sam nodded. "How does it work?"
Wanda set her mug aside and stood, moving to the center of the room. She traced a circle on the rug with one foot, then raised her hands. Scarlet energy flowed from her fingertips, drawing glowing runes in the air that settled onto the floor in a perfect ring around the bed and chair.
"We sit inside the circle," she explained. "I'll put us into a light trance — our bodies stay here, minds enter the Dimension. You'll see fragments, echoes. I'll guide us toward anything tied to the name Peters. If it gets too intense, try to focus on my trail. That will pull us back."
Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed, still a little weak but steady. He stepped into the circle and sat cross-legged on the rug facing her.
Wanda joined him, She took both his hands in hers, palms up. The scarlet pendant at her throat brightened.
"Close your eyes," she whispered. "Breathe with me."
Sam did. The room faded. The scarlet runes pulsed once, twice — then the world dropped away.
They stood in a vast, shifting landscape of mist and memory.
At first it was beautiful — floating islands of light, threads of silver and red weaving through the air like auroras. Echoes of voices drifted past: laughter, arguments, lullabies.
Wanda's presence beside him felt warm, solid.
"This way," she said, voice echoing softly.
They moved along a thread that pulsed with Sam's name. Images flickered: a young couple in a lab, faces blurred but familiar — his parents? Files stamped PROJECT NOVA. A child's crib. A woman's hand reaching —
Then the thread snapped.
Darkness rushed in.
Wanda stiffened.
"Ms. Maximoff?"
The landscape twisted. The mist turned gray, heavy. Hexagonal red walls rose around them — Westview's false reality, rebuilt in nightmare form.
"No," Wanda whispered. "Not here."
Illusions solidified one by one: Vision walking away, dissolving into static. Two small boys running, calling "Mom" — then vanishing into red mist that turned to blood.
Wanda's breathing grew ragged. Scarlet energy crackled wildly around her hands.
"Ms. Maximoff, look at me."
But the trauma dug deep onto her. The Dream Dimension fed on it, amplifying every grief. The ground cracked open; hands reached up — faceless, accusing.
Sam grabbed her shoulders.
"Ms. Maximoff... Wanda — listen to me. This isn't real. Please, listen to me..."
The illusions wavered, but the pull strengthened. Wanda's eyes glowed bright crimson, tears streaming.
"I can't—" she gasped. "I broke everything— I broken my family, I broke the friends heart— it's all my fault."
Sam pulled her against him, arms tight.
"Forget it, Forget that. You remember you saved me. You're saving us now."
For a heartbeat the darkness hesitated.
Then a final wave crashed — the boys' faces, older now, alive and then again.. vanished, screaming as reality unraveled.
Wanda screamed.
Scarlet energy exploded outward, uncontrolled. Then Wanda slowly stumped into the grass of the fake world. Sam stood alone, look at the atmosphere, grim, pale. He got the idea that the dimension locked them up.
In the real world, back in the manor bedroom, the rune circle flared violently. Wanda and Sam slumped sideways on the rug, unconscious, hands still clasped. The scarlet pendant at Wanda's throat pulsed erratically.
The fire in the hearth roared higher, as if feeding on the magic's backlash.
Two bodies lay still on the rug — minds trapped in a nightmare neither could wake from alone. As Natasha driving through the road, not knowing what happened at the manor.