The second Wanda stepped foot back into the compound, she let go of everything. The tension, the noise, the adult thoughts that had kept her upright through the long, drawn-out mission—they all slipped away the second she passed through the threshold of the place she called home.

She hadn’t even unpacked.

She didn’t need to. Her body knew what it needed.

She was already little by the time she padded down the hallway barefoot, one of her oversized shirts hanging past her knees, a pacifier bobbing gently between her lips. Her eyes were heavy, cheeks already flushed, bunny clutched tight to her chest. She was two again—soft, quiet, and searching for you.

You were in the playroom, curled up with your plushies, babbling in that sweet nonsense language you both understood. The second Wanda waddled into the room, your face lit up like the sun, your own pacifier slipping from your lips as you squealed, “Wandas!”

She let out a high-pitched, babbled response, instantly dropping beside you on the padded mat, wrapping her arms around you like she'd never let go again. The two of you tucked yourselves into your own world quickly—just like always. Babbling, cuddling, holding onto each other like it was the only thing keeping the rest of the world away.

But then your face changed.

Wanda was still rubbing your back and humming softly when your body tensed, and your lower lip trembled.

“Uh-oh,” you mumbled, suddenly overwhelmed, tears welling in your eyes as you whispered, “Wanda… I—'ccident…”

Her brow furrowed. Even as little as she was, her protective instincts kicked in. She tried to hush you gently, patting your thigh and pressing her forehead to yours. “Iss’okay, baby, iss’okay, I— I fix—”

Before she could finish, the door opened.

And Natasha stepped inside.

Wanda’s eyes went wide as Natasha strode across the room, calm but focused, crouching beside you with practiced ease. She didn’t hesitate—she scooped you into her arms, holding you gently but firmly against her chest.

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” Natasha cooed, kissing your forehead. “Mommy’s got you. You’re all right, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You sniffled against her shoulder, tiny fists clinging to the fabric of her shirt. “M-mommy…”

And that was the moment Wanda snapped.

She shot up from the floor, eyes wide with panic, voice sharp and broken through her paci. “NO! No, no! N-no touch her! Dat’s my baby!” Her words were garbled, desperate. “No huwt her! Gimme! Gimme back!”

Natasha blinked, stunned for just a moment before rising slowly with you still in her arms. She kept her voice calm—soothing.

“Wanda, honey, no one’s hurting her,” she said softly. “She’s okay. I promise.”

Wanda was crying now too, clutching her bunny like it was the only thing keeping her from breaking. “W-why you take her?” she sobbed. “You don’ touch… you don’—she mine!”

Natasha set you down gently on the changing mat, giving you a soft kiss before kneeling in front of Wanda.

“Wanda,” she said quietly, reaching out but not touching. “She’s still yours. Always. But she got really little while you were gone. She needed help. And I took care of her. Just like I want to take care of you, too.”

Wanda hiccuped, her fists tight. “You… take care?”

You sniffled from the mat, reaching a hand out toward Wanda. “Wanda… m-mommy Natty’s nice… she p’omise…”

Wanda looked between you and Natasha, tears still dripping down her cheeks. “You not mad…?”

“Never,” Natasha said, her voice soft like a lullaby. “You’ve both been so brave, taking care of each other for so long. Let me help now. Let me be your mommy too.”