Ayyy, my first AoU piece. Because I am 200% Maximoff trash at this point and I need fiction to help comfort me after what happened in the movie. I'm probably going to write a few of these by the time I'm done crying.

So basically, I have this headcanon that Strucker and his men had to get more forceful with the twins for a while because if they hadn't, Pietro would have gone crazy with worry and basically killed anyone that touched her and ran off before the experiments were even fully done lol.

Constructive critique is always super appreciated. Every little bit helps.

And I'm looking for someone to RP with me, I already have an RP blog for Wanda – I need a Pietro! Message me if you're interested. :)

Oh God, it hurts, it hurts – make it stop, make it – oh God I can't do this – I can't breathe – Pietro – where is Pietro – I'm going to die – where is he – I have to say goodb – NO IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP – PIETRO!

A sudden gasp came from the boy's chest, struggling for air as though he had forgotten to breathe, as if the air itself wasn't enough. His eyes snapped open, blinking to clear his vision as he wildly searched for the voice he'd heard, his mind in a haze.

The room was empty. Small. Poorly lit. Three of the walls were concrete, the fourth made of glass doors. He was the room's sole inhabitant, with only the bed beneath him in the small space. A faint beep of a monitor was somewhere behind his headrest. Curious eyes watched from outside the glass in a bright room, each with surprised looks on their faces, clipboards in their hands.

She was nowhere in sight.

Pietro attempted to lunge toward the glass, only making it a couple of inches before realizing straps were tightly bound around his limbs and chest. A snarl broke from his lips, his voice raw and dry.

"Where is she?" the boy screamed. His whole body felt as though it were on fire, sweat dripping from his skin, pain radiating from every muscle and bone. But he didn't care. He kicked his legs against the bindings and cheap sheets, pulled with all of his might to free his arms, but with little luck.

One of the glass doors slid gently aside, a slightly-shaken man in a scientist's coat stepping inside. Pietro's glare didn't falter. Leaving the door open behind him, his foot slightly placed back as though to hesitate, the man cleared his throat.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Maximoff?" the scientist asked unsurely, pen at the ready to take notes.

Pietro's blood boiled. There was no time for this. He was sure he heard her.

"Where is she," Pietro snarled, slowly enunciating each word.

The man swallowed, glancing backwards at the other men behind the glass. After a moment, he turned back to the boy.

"She is still undergoing her third round of tests, as you did," the man tried to say more confidently. "She should be out—"

The rest of the man's words were drowned out by another voice.

It burns…God, everything hurts – can't feel my hands – where is Pietro –

"Wanda!" Pietro screamed out, his struggles renewed. The man in front of him jumped, startled. Pietro wanted to hit him until he bled for acting so oblivious. "Fucking rats! You hear her scream and you do nothing! Stop the fucking tests!"

The man blinked, surprised. "Mr. Maximoff, I heard no such thing."

Pietro glowered at the man. "You lying asshole! My sister is in pain! I heard her! Tell them to stop!"

"Son, I can assure you –"

Pietro's head spun, pain spreading through his chest. It wasn't his though. It wasn't his pain. Darkness spread at the edge of his vision, and it felt hard to draw breath.

Pietro – oh God…Pietro I'm sorry…

"Wanda!" Pietro howled, his desperation growing as he fought harder against his bindings. He knew they'd both wanted so desperately to help their countrymen, but he knew that nothing was worth this. No power was worth the cost of taking her. The world could crumble for all he cared.

"Mr. Maxim—"

It began with a slight hum in his chest. The man's voice slowed, the beeping of the monitors ceased, and all Pietro could hear was his ragged breaths. The boy looked up, startled, to find that the scientist was still, his hands frozen in place where he'd raised them in defense. It looked as though time had stopped. Pietro's heart raced. What was happening?

Pietro took little time to care. It didn't matter to him if time ceased to exist and the whole world had gone upside down and rampant with madness. His only thought was on his sister.

Tugging again on the straps holding his arms low, he could see the way they remained in place as he shifted, following his movements with much slower motion. He shifted his arm to one side and then the other, picking up pace as he did so, watching as the straps attempted with futility to keep up with his speed. Each movement granted him more and more precious space, until finally he was able to just barely slip away.

When the other bindings had been taken care of, Pietro pushed his way out the door, stumbling forward and spilling on to the ground when he attempted to stop. His head spun. Standing unsteadily, Pietro glanced around, the scientists still in their frozen state. He noticed a pen one of them had dropped still remained slowly inching towards the ground. What the fuck was happening?

He had no time to ask. He needed to find Wanda.

Taking off down the hallway in the direction of the testing labs, Pietro slammed into at least three walls as he rounded corners, something in his momentum throwing him off. Was he going faster?

Random workers and soldiers were frozen in place as he ran, his eyes stinging against the air. It wasn't much farther…

Making his way past the armed guards with their own security keys, Pietro finally skid to a halt at the foot of the operating table. His stomach slid to his feet when he saw his sister's pained expression, the tears that streaked down her temples and into her messy hair. A few feet above her, the scepter they'd seen before was attached to multiple machines and wires. Her body was lifted from the table, the blue energy swirling around and into her.

His voice was shaken when he spoke. "Wanda—"

As his mind attempted to process the sight, time seemed to catch up with him.

A woman to his right shrieked. Across the room, a man dropped his clipboard and a startled soldier lifted his weapon.

But Pietro could hear nothing, see nothing more than his sister's form suddenly coming to life as time regained its momentum, her scream piercing through the air. It shocked him more than he could have prepared himself for. Her body jerked violently as the energy of the scepter sparked and crackled around her. Pietro swore he could feel every vicious jolt of pain with her.

Rage smoldered beneath his skin. Again it seemed as time around him slowed as his feet took off again, launching himself forward. His arms were swiftly behind his sister's legs and shoulders, disregarding the searing heat from the scepter's energy as he grabbed her. Taking extra care of her neck, he jolted her away from the table.

He ran. From the scepter, from the guns, from the men that wished her harm, weaving through the hallways. He had no idea where he was going, only that he had to get her to safety. His eyes darted from his path to her and back again, his stomach twisting with the ashen color of her skin, the gleam of sweat across her brow. He hadn't seen her look so frail since the day they'd been pulled from the rubble in Sokovia. He pushed away the thought.

He passed guards and security checks with no issue, trying to find the exit to no avail. It was only a short distance, to him at least, until he had to stop again, his legs weary with fatigue already. He wanted to keep going, pushed himself to keep going, but when his legs nearly gave out from beneath him, he knew he had to stop.

When he hadn't seen any workers after a few rounded corners, Pietro finally settled to his knees in a small alcove, gasping. Wanda was still tightly in his grasp, and he lowered her gently to the floor, supporting her as he set her against the wall. Time resumed its pace, and with the sudden lack of pain and a small whimper, she fell limp.

His hands lifted to her face and jaw, holding her upright as he tried to feel for her pulse, desperate to see her eyes open again.

"Wanda?" he urged. "Come on, little one. You are my fighter. We are stronger than the others." He paused, his throat tightening. Don't go where I can't follow.

"Foxtrot saw them go down the eastern corridor! Check every room!"

Pietro glanced over his shoulder, catching the glimpse of a flashlight in the dim hall. His jaw tightened.

He turned back to his sister, worry crawling up his spine that she seemed colder as the seconds passed.

"Little one, please…" he urged again, using one hand to push the hair away from her face. She looked as small as when they'd first arrived at the orphanage.

A light shone on his back, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Wanda once more, ready to bolt –

Piercing pain shot through his spine, all of his muscles going rigid as electricity shot through him. He let out a cry as his back arched, Wanda slipping from his grasp and slumping to the ground. When the power was cut to the device on his back, he too fell, gasping and twitching as his muscles continued to jolt. When he had control of his vision again, his eyes settled onto his sister, motionless beside him.

"Strucker wants them alive, do not harm the subjects," a man barked orders at the others, footsteps nearing to grab them.

Pietro tried to speak her name, but it only came out as a shuddered breath; he tried to reach out, but his hand was yanked away and cuffed.

"She needs help," he finally gasped as he was hauled to his feet. The men tried to lead him away, but he weakly resisted, yanking himself back towards his sister. As more men filed in, his line of sight to her was slowly being lost. He forced himself to be louder. "HELP HER! SHE NEEDS HELP, DAMN RATS!"

Didn't they realize she was hurt? That she wasn't –

Pietro?

He was already led half way down the hall when he heard the voice. But he didn't just…hear it. He tried to spin around in the soldier's grip, desperately looking to find Wanda, but none of the other soldiers had followed with her yet.

"Wanda," the boy breathed, trying to understand how he could feel her presence, even as the meters between them grew. What was happening? His stomach dropped. Was she –

Pietro, where…What's going on?

Either he was going crazy or the world was a cruel, cruel place. Even so, he gave in to the familiar voice, keeping his lips firmly together as his thoughts reached out to the presence.

Sister, can you hear me?

Somehow, he could feel how weak she was. How tired, how scared. It made his panic rise again.

She hesitated before responding. Pietro. I am so tired.

The boy swallowed. I'll make these bastards pay. I'm going to get you, little one.

The relief was palpable from her. I told you I dislike that name. That was a lie.

Stay strong, sister.

When the men had finally rounded to the holding cells, he yanked against their grips, cringing as the door sealed in place once more behind him. The cuffs fell from his hands automatically, and before they had even hit the ground Pietro used his full speed and strength to slam against the glass. Pain spread across his shoulder with the impact, but the glass had stayed in place. He sprinted against another wall, and another, trying to find some purchase or crack in the room, but found none.

He needed to get to Wanda, he had to get her –

Pietro. Stop. You will hurt yourself.

The boy slowed, panting from exertion. Time came back to its normal speed, and the men standing beside the glass had their weapons raised. A sneer made its way to his lips, challenging them.

Another group of soldiers rounded the corner, a familiar mess of brown hair somewhere in the mass. Pietro pressed against the glass, desperate to get a glance at his sister, make sure she was ok, make sure he wasn't hallucinating her voice…

The group dispersed to a degree, and he could see his sister settled in the arms of one of the soldiers, her tired eyes lifted to his, giving him a small smile. Pietro's hands pressed against the glass harder, wanting to wrap his arms around her again.

Don't go soft now, brother, she quipped between them.

Her lips curled slightly with her own tired jest before she disappeared into the next cell. He moved along the walls as she was deposited onto her bed, pressing against the concrete wall that separated them. When he could feel her senses relax with the comfort of her bed, he too let himself calm. Still, he couldn't push away the thought that he could still feel some pain radiating from her.

She reached out to him with her mind again, this strange connection they now seemed to share. For the hell they had been put through, it was the greatest comfort he'd been given so far. She shared the thought of falling asleep beside him, as they'd done many times in the orphanage.

He sighed in some mix of frustration and relief. Are you alright, little one?

She sighed in return. We have so much to do still. I have to be strong.

You are.

And you must be too, she urged, worry lacing the thought.

Pietro thought to the morning they'd signed up, when he had placed a kiss on her forehead.

I will be nothing less.