"Evening!" I called out, pitching my voice to carry across the yard without shouting.

  Wanda jumped slightly… a calculated flinch, I was sure… and turned toward me. She hugged her jacket tighter around herself.

  "Oh!" she said, walking closer to the low wooden fence that separated my manicured lawn from her wild patch of potential. "I... I didn't see you there."

  "Hard to miss me," I said, walking down the patio steps onto the grass. "I'm the one frantically pacing in the kitchen. I assume you saw the show?"

  She walked up to the fence. The moonlight caught her face, softening the sharp angles of her grief. She looked ethereal and sad. But mostly beautiful.

  "I saw... some movement," she admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. "I thought maybe you were fighting a raccoon."

  I laughed. It was a genuine sound. "I wish. A raccoon I can handle. My opponent was much more formidable. It was my own forgetfulness."

  I leaned against the fence post, trying to look casual despite the fact that my adrenaline was spiking.

  "I was in the middle of making Tandoori," I explained, gesturing back at the house with my thumb. "Got the marinade ready, got the oven preheating... and then realized I forgot the most important ingredient."

  Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Chicken?"

  "Lemons," I said tragically. "The acidity. The zest. It's the soul of the dish, Wanda. Without it, it's just... sad, red yogurt chicken."

  Wanda looked down at the bag in her hand. Then she looked up at me and for a second, the darkness in her eyes lifted completely.

  "Well," she said softly. "That is a coincidence."

  She lifted the bag.

  "I bought lemons," she said. "I was going to make tea."

  I stared at the bag. I didn't have to feign surprise. I was genuinely delighted by the universe's scriptwriting.

  "You are kidding me," I said. "You're a lifesaver. Or a dinner saver, at least."

  She held the bag out over the fence. "Here. You can have them. I... I don't need all of them."

  I reached out, but I didn't take the bag immediately. My hand brushed hers… just a graze of fingertips.

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  Sparks.

  Not magic sparks. Just human sparks. I felt a jolt go up my arm. I saw her eyes widen slightly. She felt it too.

  "I can't just take your lemons," I said, my voice dropping a little lower. "That's highway robbery. Or... driveway robbery."

  Wanda hesitated. She didn't pull her hand back.

  "It is fine," she whispered.

  "Tell you what," I said, making a decision. I looked her right in the eyes. "I have way too much chicken for one person. Seriously. I cooked like I was feeding a platoon. It's a bad habit."

  I paused, letting the offer hang in the air.

  "If you donate the lemons... you get half the Tandoori. That seems like a fair trade to me. Unless you have plans? A hot date with a microwave meal?"

  Wanda looked at me. She looked at the house, bathed in warm yellow light. She looked at the empty lot behind her.

  I could see the war in her eyes. The fear of connection battling the desperate need for it.

  "I..." she started, then stopped.

  "It's freshly made," I added, throwing in the closer. "And I make a killer garlic naan. Just saying."

  A real smile broke through. It was small, but it was there.

  "I do like garlic naan," she admitted.

  "Then it's settled," I said, finally taking the bag of lemons from her hand. "Come on over. The gate is on the side. Watch your step, I haven't fixed that loose paver yet."

  [Perspective: Wanda Maximoff]

  He invited me.

  Wanda watched him turn and walk back toward the patio, swinging the bag of lemons like a prize.

  Her heart was thudding in her chest.

  Go home, Wanda, a fearful voice whispered. It's too dangerous. What if you lose control? What if you hurt him?

  Go inside, the other voice countered. He is warm. He is safe. He feels like home.

  She looked at the empty plot of land. Vision's plot.

  Vision would want me to eat, she thought. He would want me to... try.

  And Aryan...

  She recalled the touch of his hand. It was a grounding warmth.

  She walked to the side gate. The latch was simple metal. She lifted it and stepped into his yard.

  The grass was soft under her boots. As she walked toward the light of the kitchen, she felt the oppressive weight of her grief lighten another notch.

  Aryan was waiting by the sliding door, holding it open for her.

  "Welcome to the humble abode," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "Shoes off or on, I don't judge. But the floors are heated, just a heads up."

  She stepped inside.

  The smell hit her first. Cumin, coriander and garam masala. It smelled rich and complex and alive.

  "It smells..." she breathed, inhaling deeply.

  "Like a spice market exploded?" Aryan asked, closing the door behind her and locking out the cold night. "Yeah, that's the Spencer signature scent."

  He walked to the island and dumped the lemons onto the counter.

  "Okay," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You wash, I slice? Or are you a supervisor type?"

  Wanda stood in the middle of the kitchen. She looked at Aryan. He was looking at her with an expectant grin. No pity in his eyes. Just a guy who needed help with lemons.

  She felt a tear prick the corner of her eye, but she blinked it away before it could fall.

  "I can slice," she said, moving toward the counter. "But do not blame me if they are not perfect."

  Aryan laughed. "Wanda, looking at these lemons..."

  He picked one up and tossed it to her. She caught it reflexively, her seeker reflexes still sharp.

  "...I have a feeling this is going to be the best meal I've had in two lifetimes."

  She froze for a second at the phrasing. Two lifetimes.

  He winked. "You know. Pre Blip and Post Blip."

  Wanda squeezed the lemon in her hand. Its skin was rough and waxy. It felt real.

  "Yes," she said softly, walking to the sink. "Let's hope so."

  As the water ran over her hands, washing the fruit, she felt a strange sensation in her chest. It wasn't happiness. That was too big a word. But it was quiet.