Wanda sighed, staring up at the ceiling in her room. It had been two hours and she still couldn't sleep. The brunette finally sat up, her face stricken with pain, but no one was there to see it. She was alone, as always.

No. You're not alone anymore, remember? You have have Steve, Natasha, Clint and Sam. You have a family now.

Except for Pietro.

An entire year had passed, down to the very day, since his death and it was still a struggle for Wanda to move on fully. Yes, she had interests. Playing the guitar, knitting, even watching those silly little American soap operas, but it all seemed somewhat hollow without Pietro.

How did people do it? How did they keep moving on with their lives after losing someone so close to them, that it was like losing a part of themselves? How did they hide the pain when they were around people and how did they keep the tears at bay when everything seems to remind them of who they lost?

Too many thoughts. She couldn't stay in bed. There'd be no comfort for her on this night.

Silently, Wanda slid on a pair of track shorts underneath her oversized sleep shirt before shuffling out of her room and walking down the hallway. It may be late, but she needed something to distract her.

Cereal was on her mind at the moment. Some of that really bad, sugary stuff she knew Natasha kept a healthy stock of for anyone who needed a hit in their sweet tooth. The spy could actually be very thoughtful when it came to buying everyone's favorite junk food. Coming nearer to the kitchen, Wanda halted her steps when she realised that the light was on and someone else sat at the island, bent over their own food.

She didn't have to get closer to recognize that form. James Barnes sat a few feet away from her, munching away in whatever he was eating. Wanda paused and pursed her lips. She had really wanted to be alone, but her private refuge was now semi private.

Of course, she could turn back and head to her room. She did have a few snacks left in the backpack she always brought on missions. If memory served correctly, there were a couple of Slim Jims, a half-eaten bag of chocolate covered donuts and kettle chips in the front zippered pocket.

As she took a step to turn around, James suddenly swiveled in his stool to cast a probing expression her way.

"How long are you gonna stand there?"

Shit.

Wanda bit her lip and crossed her arms. Not a defensive posture, but a protective one. Sometimes she glanced at James' muscles on his human arm and felt herself swallowing hard. He could probably crush her body with that arm. The thought was mildly curious as well as frightening.

"I can leave if you don't want to be disturbed..."

"It's not my kitchen."

Hm. A noncommittal answer. He wasn't telling her that he welcomed her presence, but he wasn't being antisocial either. Wanda mused on this before she continued walking to the kitchen and immediately started looking through the cupboard. She could feel James' eyes on her back and fought the urge to turn and face him.

In moments, she found the box of cereal she'd been looking for. Lucky Charms. A garbage cereal, Steve liked to say. Full of nothing but sugar, artificial food coloring and a million other things that would probably kill you before you reached thirty. Well, that was fine. Getting older wasn't such a big deal and Wanda didn't put gratuitous stock in growing up. She'd lost too much in life to care, really.

Once she retrieved her bowl, she poured a substantial amount of cereal into it and sat on the opposite end of the island. Not exactly closing herself off, but not being presumptuously friendly. She had come here to put something in her belly, not to initiate a kaffeeklatsch.

"You're not gonna put any milk in it?"

"Milk in cereal is overrated," she retorted before taking a handful from the bowl and shoving it in her mouth. Unladylike, but Wanda couldn't care less about such things.

"And why is that?"

Once she finished chewing, she looked at him again. "Milk mutes the flavor of the cereal so you have to drink it to get the taste, but it's not as good when you eat cereal by itself." Wanda ate another mouthful of cereal, groaning inwardly. Like he cared about her studio ideas on breakfast food. This is exactly why she wanted to be alone in the kitchen. Socializing was not one of her strong points.

"That's a curious philosophy, but it makes sense. I actually like eating dry cereal, too. Just not the sugary stuff. It makes me feel sick."

"Before she could stop herself from replying, Wanda blurted out, "Wait, you don't like any sweet cereal? Not even muesli?"

"Nope, fruit and nuts is not a combination I like."

"What the hell do you eat for breakfast, then?"

He blinked. "I don't eat breakfast."

"Oh."

"You never noticed how I only drink coffee in the morning?"

A sudden memory of early mornings in the kitchen popped into Wanda's brain. She could see James in the corner of her eyes, drinking a mug of hot coffee with no sugar or cream - ick - while everyone else ate varying types of breakfast food.

"I have. I just...stay in my own world for the most part." She knew her cheeks were heating up and elected to ignore it.

"So do I. Guess we're alike in that respect. The two loneliest Avengers." His voice had a sarcastic tone and Wanda frowned.

"I'm not lonely," she lied, words coming out harshly. "In case you've forgotten, I live in a building with several other people and have hardly a moment to myself."

James stared at her, reading her facial expression carefully before speaking. "But it's not the same without your brother, is it?"

Wanda's lips parted, but she said nothing. How could she? He'd hit her right in the most vulnerable spot anyone could touch. It was bad enough that today was the anniversary of Pietro's death, but Bucky rubbed salt in the wound, intentional or not.

She stood up, pushing her bowl away. "I have to go to bed. Goodnight, James." Swiftly, she exited the kitchen, not caring to look at him as she left. He called after her, but she kept walking until she made her way back into her room and dug under the safety of her covers.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she cried until her energy was sapped. Sleep beckoned her and she gave in to it, but before she was completely under its lull, she saw the brief look of regret on James' face when he mentioned her brother.

Maybe he was sorry for what he'd said, but she was too busy hurting to care.