There are certain things you cannot think of separately, which are inevitable connected in your mind; the sun and moon; yin and yang; Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. The Twins had been inseparable from the moment we had first met. At the time, we had actually been enemies, so they were a double threat; "enhanced" crazy people; freaks. At least, that's what my teammates had thought. But I, as youngest of the team and bastard daughter of Clint Barton, felt compassionate towards these outsiders. And, to be honest, I was a bit intrigued by them; the hardship they had undergone had not twisted their constant love for each other, only strengthened it instead. After they had found out about Ultron's true intentions, and I had convinced my teammates to accept their change of sides, we had grown quite fond of each other.
Naturally, it isn't easy being friends with two people who are so closely connected to each other (apart from the fact we were in something of an ongoing war against a maniacal robot slash artificial intelligence). You often become a third wheel, and you have to be okay with that. Also, you have to be able to ignore your father's comments about "those kids having a bad influence on you".
Luckily, I'm incredibly good at ignoring those things I don't want to hear.
Not seeing the truth, however, is a bit harder - unseeing it, impossible. Especially if that truth is your father carrying the limp body of your newfound friend, or her brother's agonising scream. Or how he sank to his knees, grasping her cold hand.
A crippling sort of disbelief rushed over me. My father looked at me, exhaustion haunting his eyes. He moved on, stepping onto one of the last rescue-pods still waiting for us. Pietro didn't seem to realise the world around him was falling apart.
Many people were still screaming and crying, begging for someone to prevent the city from falling. They were praying in vain; nothing could prevent this city from crashing to the earth. The end could only be delayed.
'Pietro! Pietro, please! Come on!' A cloud of ash and dust swirled up into my lungs. I coughed loudly, temporarily prevented from speaking. 'We need to get away!'
It was difficult to speak and not burst into tears. Though when I knelt in front of Pietro, to face him, I encountered such a hollow look, I felt like I had no right to grieve.
'Pietro, please,' I begged him more urgently. 'We're going to die if you stay here.'
Another major ripple surged through the floating earth. It knocked me off balance, and I grabbed Pietro's arm to hold steady. At last, this got his attention. He looked up, still that awful dead expression on his face.
'I already did.'
I let out a single sob. 'Come on!' I grabbed Pietro's hand, tugging as hard as I could. It seemed my desperation returned some sense to him.
'Alexa…' he blinked, as if he woke up from a deep slumber. 'You need to get away.'
'I know,' I said grimly, 'but I aint gonna leave you here.'
Somewhere in the distance, beyond the clouds of dust, someone called my name. Some of the vapour subsided, revealing Clint staggering back. Everything about him made clear we were running out of time. Drastic measures seemed the only remaining option.
'Now my dad's coming too. So, you either get up, or we go down with the city. It's up to you.'
A bit of panic flared in his eyes. It was unfair to force this decision upon him, but it was the only way I could think of to get him to come with me.
'I don't want to upset the old man.'
Understandably, his usual smirk was missing. Fortunately, Pietro still got up. Just as his knees left the dirt, a major shock almost knocked him back down. Even more unexpectedly, he grabbed me, swinging his arm underneath my legs and started running before I could react. The outside was reduced to nothing but patchy colours, and all senses were cut off by sharp, angry winds.
Pietro's full speed was an awful experience, causing me to dry heave after he put me down again.
'Alexis, are you okay?' Clint had reached the ship after us.
Was I okay? He needed a short answer, so I gave a weird shrug-nod. 'I'm not hurt.'
I turned around. Wanda lay on a long row of seats, with her face white – even paler than usual. The scared civilians kept their faces averted, as if that would solve the problem. I was very tempted to try it.
'I'm so sorry, Lex.'
'Me too…'
My father hugged me, and I let some of the sobs get out. Pietro sat alone, clamping his sister's hand. His head was bowed down, and his shoulders shocked uncontrollably. This was a moment he needed alone. There was nothing I could do.
Maybe time would help him heal, or at least reduce the hole now wrought in his chest. Though the return of his heart brought all new dangers along. A threat which would paralyse me in between him and the father who was holding me protectively.