Between Time- MCU

Alex had gotten used to winning.

Not the flashy, ego-boost kind of winning, just the quiet, satisfying rhythm of doing good. Stopping crashes before they happened. Helping evacuate buildings mid-fire. She'd learned how to rewind just a few seconds instead of minutes. Learned how to shift between "moments" like stepping between floorboards.

Every now and then, she still got overwhelmed, the world went too fast, or her powers lagged behind her instincts. But lately? She'd been in control.

People were starting to notice. Not the Avengers, not Fury, but people. Civilians she saved. Kids who pointed and smiled. People calling her the Clockwork Girl, or that shimmer one from Midtown. It scared her a little. But it also felt good.

Today was supposed to be another win.

The call came through a NYPD emergency channel Tony had given her access to. Alex had been sitting at a small bakery, doing her homework. She barely paused to throw her jacket back on.

Armed robbery. High-speed chase. Hostages.

She arrived just in time, the armored van had crashed, two suspects were on foot. One had a hostage: a young guy, maybe college-aged, pressed close with a weapon to his neck.

Alex slowed time.

She assessed.

Three heartbeats. One knife. Her own pulse thudding too loud in her ears.

She moved, body shimmering with golden distortion, and reached for the attacker's wrist to disarm him mid-stutter of slowed time.

But she missed.

Just by a second, not even.

Her foot slipped slightly on a chunk of broken pavement.

She stumbled, tried to fix it, overcorrected–

The timeline snapped forward like a rubber band. Time rushed back in. The man panicked.

The hostage jerked.

And the blade cut too deep, too fast.

By the time Alex shoved the attacker away, the kid was already on the ground. Bleeding out.

She screamed for help. Tried to rewind.

But something.... something about the panic, the slip, her adrenaline, she couldn't get the right moment. She kept bouncing too far back or not far enough.

She froze the moment in desperation, but the bleeding continued in real time.

And the kid...

Didn't make it.

She didn't go back right away. She wandered the city for hours. Not even blinking the tears away when they fell.

By the time she returned to the Tower, the sun was gone. She walked in through the service entrance, still in the suit Tony made her. She didn't even realize there was dried blood on it until she stepped into the elevator and caught her reflection.

Her hands shook.

She didn't notice Wanda until she stepped into the hallway.

"Alex," Wanda said gently, stepping forward.

Alex shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Alex."

Her voice cracked. "I was trying to save him. I did everything right. I slowed time, I calculated the distance, I had— I had it."

Wanda was quiet.

"I missed by a second. Just one. And he died."

She didn't fight the tears this time. Didn't care that the suit was ruined or that her eyes glowed faintly when her emotions got too big. She just stood there, hollow, while Wanda stepped close and put her arms around her.

"You did your best," Wanda murmured.

"But it wasn't good enough."

Wanda didn't say anything. She just held her tighter.

Later that week she didn't suit up. Didn't answer Kate's texts. Didn't show up for rooftop meetups. She avoided everyone except Wanda, barely speaking when she did.

Fury didn't call. Tony didn't push. Bucky left a sandwich outside her room without a note. And eventually, when she finally sat up in bed and looked out the window, the world hadn't stopped spinning. People still needed saving.

Her guilt didn't go away.

But it started changing, not into numbness, but purpose.

She sat at her desk and opened her notebook. Not for class. Not for herself. But to write down everything she'd done that day, exactly what went wrong. Like a forensic log of her mistake. A reminder.

And then, quietly, she whispered to herself:

"I won't let it happen again."

Not in the arrogant way. Not in the naïve way. In the way of someone who understood, fully, that no power made you perfect.

She would still try anyway.