"She knew it had happened. There was no point asking how. They were twins - they were never apart. They knew everything about each other and now he was gone. Pietro was dead and it couldn't have been Stark's fault. She knew it wasn't. He might have been responsible for the death of their parents but he was in no way responsible for Pietro's. It was Ultron. He was the one who had caused this suffering, this chaos. The worst part was, Wanda had, until recently, until the Vision, played a huge role in this chaos.
Everything was her fault. Everything. Pietro's death. This destruction. All of it. There was no combating that or challenging it. She might have ripped out Ultron's heart, might have watched the light die from his eyes, but nothing could ever make her believe it would be all right. It couldn't be. Her other half, her twin brother, had died and all because she said she would be fine on her own. She'd told him to go.
She would never forget that. The fact she had killed Pietro.
Now the city was plummeting. She was barely holding on to the wreckage she was relying on to keep her standing upright and to be honest she didn't feel like she wanted to. What was there left to live for? Everywhere she went she caused total chaos. She'd killed her brother. She was a total burden to everyone and everything she touched. The least she deserved was death.
At least it'll be quick.
Her arms were spread wide, an eagle, like she was in those picture books she'd read with her brother when she was little. A miniature Icarus. She'd flown too close to the sun, her wings had melted and she was falling to her death. Just like Icarus. She was ready for death.
A whoosh of a cloak fluttered by her ear. Someone took her into their arms, held her gently. Their arms were firm and warm but they seemed to hold all of humanity there. For one moment it could have been her mother, another moment it might have been Pietro. She took one look at him and realised it was the android, the Vision, the one they'd risked so much for. Their eyes met and she saw what might have been classed as desperation flash through his. His face was close and she was very aware of his hands holding her legs, the fact she was pressed against his chest. She'd wondered if his skin might have been cold. It wasn't.
He looked at her once more before glancing to the sky and taking off, up, through the falling debris and infrastructure from the city, the last remaining pieces of society. He carried her through her city, her city which had died because of her. She blacked out, her magic all but gone and her emotional energy totally dead. Why hadn't he let her die?

She awoke in what she assumed was the Avengers facility, though she wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't anymore. Her room was whitewashed from top to bottom like the front of a country cottage; the only colour in the room came from the pendants on her bedside table and her clothes she'd worn in the battle which had been washed and laid down on a chair opposite her bed. Cautiously, she stepped out from under the sheets. The carpet was soft and rich beneath her toes, very obviously expensive. Stark, she muttered to herself. She didn't know how long she'd been sleeping for and quite frankly she didn't care; she opened the door of her room and ran into Natasha.
""Wanda! I wasn't expecting to see -"
"Where is the Vision?" she demanded. Natasha looked surprised by the snap in her voice. "I need to talk to him. Now."
"He's usually in his room, but he said -"
"Where is his room?"
"Just down the corridor. Two doors down from you, actually, but -"
"Thank you."
"Wanda, wait a second …"
Wanda made no effort to listen; instead she strode down the corridor barefoot, leaving Natasha behind, worried for the mutant girl. Her nightdress whipped about her knees in time to her strides and her hair swept around her shoulders. She didn't even knock when she opened the door.
He was sitting on the end of his bed, poring over a book, The History of Sovakia and its People, but his head snapped up when he saw Wanda in the doorway. Eyes widening, he stood slowly.
"I understand you will be confused. Miss Maximoff, I assure you that I had only the best intentions when -"
"Why couldn't you just have let me die?" Her voice came out in a whisper, teeth clenched and knuckles white. Wisps of red vapour were emitting from her hands without her even being concious of it and her head was oddly clear, devoid of emotion. Devoid of humanity. "I killed Pietro. I killed him."
"You did not kill Pietro Maximoff," the Vision stated calmly, gently, his voice oddly comforting though it only infuriated Wanda more. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent his death. Mr Barton has already told us exactly what happened. Your brother sacrificed himself for Mr Barton, who was attempting to rescue a child at the time. Pietro Maximoff went to his death knowing that he was saving others."
"You don't UNDERSTAND!"
Wanda fell to her knees, her powers taking over and exploding around her, just like when she knew he'd died for the first time. The Vision was blasted back but he stayed stable by hovering gently in mid-air. He flew over to her, landing just in front of her. Sobs were coursing through her whole body as she screamed for her brother, for her city, for her mother and father and the whole life she'd left behind. She cried for the death of her identity she'd been stripped of, the things she knew to be true. Even now, she was in some generic clothes, sat in a facility working for the people she'd once vowed to destroy.
"Miss Maximoff -"
"GET AWAY! I'm a MONSTER!"
Wanda pushed him away with all her might as he attempted to lift an arm so that he might support her, hold her. He didn't try to resist; he fell to the floor and sat there, waiting for her.
"You could have let me die! You could have let me die with Pietro and I wouldn't have had to come back, back, to this! What kind of a life am I supposed to lead now? Living in fear because I can kill everything I touch? Why couldn't you let me die?"
Answering that question was all too easy for the Vision.
"You were the first to see me when I emerged from the cradle. When I was born, you were the first one I saw and there was no way I could have let you die. You are anything but a monster, Wanda. Your power is the most beautiful and unique that I have had the fortune to encounter and you use it for good, not for Ultron's destruction. I realise that humans feel guilty when an acquaintance of theirs is harmed or suffers in any way and I knew that was what would plague me if I could not save you. I realise you are feeling the same way about your brother," he paused for a second, "but you should know that you could not have saved him. It will take time to come to terms with, but I knew you were a valuable member of this team and I - we, could not cope with your loss too."
Wanda looked up at him through bloodshot eyes and she snapped like a taught elastic band stretched to breaking point. She broke into tears, tears that came streaming down her face thick and fast, drowning her sorrows and washing them away down her cheeks and onto the carpeted floor. The Vision moved cautiously nearer and placed an arm around her small frame and this time she didn't resist his advance; she fell into his chest and buried her head in his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, over and over.
"It wasn't your fault," he replied, over and over.
His other arm rested around her and hers were around his neck, her tears sliding down his golden cape. She knew she would never get over Pietro, but Vision's support was all she needed for now. If he could stay with her, she could pull through this. The thing was, deep down, she knew Pietro would have wanted her to get over this, to pull through. He'd have called her a cry baby and pinched her cheek, grinning at her. He'd pull her up and give her a hug, dust her down and they'd face the world together.
Wanda was locked on a staircase that only spiralled down.
The Vision was her key to escape.