So this is a story for the last part of the Battle of Sokovia through Wanda's eyes. I don't really think I need to say that this story has MAJOR SPOILERS, so obviously don't read on if you haven't seen Avengers: Age of Ultron. Also, this is my first fic on the two, so constructive criticism is more than welcome. Please review!
He held her hand, and his skin was warm against hers. She knew she was going to die, and she tried to accept it. She tried.
"What does it say, Wanda?" Pietro asked her, as though he didn't know.
"Stark Industries," she said quietly. She wanted it to end. She wanted them to find her now, or she wanted to die. She still wasn't sure which. "Our parents are dead," she repeated for the seventh time, a few tears beginning to fall.
"I know," he reassured her quietly, just as he had always done, "I know. When we get out of here, we'll kill Mr. Stark."
She looked up at the blurred underside of the bed. "I'm tired," she whispered.
"Then sleep."
"I'm worried I won't wake."
"I'll be here," he promised. "I'll be here waiting."
He would always be there.
She is scared. She has half a mind to run, to die, to let the Avengers pick up the pieces, but she stays. They are relying on her. Sokovia is relying on her.
She is fighting, but none of the robots can get close enough to hurt her. Red mist is flying from her hands, swirling through the air towards them as fast as she could throw it. She never weakens, never grows tired. She can feel Pietro's hope thrumming through her veins.
She is fierce all of a sudden, unleashing a side she never knew she had, fighting back with every ounce of her being.
She is powerful. She is using her skills like she has never been able to before, destroying and killing in the hope that she can create and save. She knows she is different to all the others, and for once she is proud of it. They cannot reach her.
She is strong. She is brave. She is an Avenger.
"But if you go out there, if you carry on fighting, you're an Avenger."
She nodded mutely. She could feel Pietro's stitch, his lack of breath, his laughter. She could feel his brief moment of panic and his relief, and she could feel his anger, burning hot as coal. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.
When she opened them, the man who called himself Hawkeye was gone. She was alone.
She was the Scarlet Witch. She was the sister of Quicksilver. She was the enemy of Ultron, and the ally of the Avengers.
Sister of Quicksilver. She was the Scarlet Witch.
Wanda stood up, and opened the door.
She tunes in to her brother's consciousness to check that all is well, never pausing in her fight.
He fights. He is elated about something-
"Fury, you son of a bitch." She jumps; she is still not used to the voices crackling in her ear.
"Hey! Did you kiss your mother with that mouth?"
The others laugh, and she longs to join in. Pietro, her Pietro, has made himself at home with these people, letting them trust him and joke with him and laugh at him, and now she is alone.
She is alone.
The words echo through her mind. Alone. Alone. Alone. Never before has she been alone. He has always been by her side, fighting with her.
He still is, she reminds herself. She is still fighting with him, but now they have joined forces with the Avengers - Earth's mightiest heroes, the last line of defence, the most powerful beings their planet possess - to make themselves stronger. Stronger. That is what it was all about. They only made themselves stronger. And, now, they are strong.
But she has always lacked where Pietro hasn't. She has never felt able to fit in, to feel a sense of belonging. Here he is, laughing as though Tony Stark is his friend, as though he didn't spend days waiting for him to kill them.
Earth's mightiest heroes. She is one of them, she thinks.
The man who called himself Hawkeye was one of the last she would bewitch. She had gotten the red-haired woman - oh, how much pain she had been in - and the Captain. She had even confused the god.
She crept up behind him noiselessly. He was aiming an arrow at something; perhaps someone, and his attention was focused elsewhere. Perfect. She extended her hands-
He whipped around, and something stuck her in the middle of her forehead, knocking her back a few steps.
And then pain exploded through her head, through her mind, everywhere, and there was no stopping it - she couldn't even move! - colour and light exploded across her vision, and he was talking to her grimly.
But then Pietro came, and lifted her into his arms, and carried her away, and, for a few moments at least, she allowed herself to close her eyes and sink into unconsciousness.
Suddenly, that man is her friend. Suddenly, he is there, reassuring her, telling her to move on, and she can't understand why.
Why does he put so much faith into people? Does he truly believe that they will never betray him, will never turn against him?
Is this loyalty? - she wonders. Absolute trust. Willingness to go to the ends of the Earth to save someone.
She thinks she would like loyalty. She thinks it would be nice.
She thinks of Pietro. Surely they are loyal to each other...but is that the bond of twins, forced together by fate?
She is whipping up a storm of red; it glimmers slightly as she hurls it towards another metal contraption.
She knows one thing for certain: this is hatred. She knows hatred.
Wanda is no stranger to hatred.
"Take what you need," they had told them, so he did. He took running gear, something quick and light and flexible, and shoes that were so soft and strong and durable that she could see them practically forming the shape of his feet. She stood to one side. She needed nothing, so she would not take anything.
"Wanda," he said, passing her a red leather jacket.
She didn't need it. She didn't need it. But she was already in love with it, and he had given it to her, and by the time she had finished debating with herself it was already on.
There is ecstasy. From the snippets of conversation she has heard, they have found a way to get everyone off the city, and then they can destroy it.
Sokovia. Her home.
She knows she should feel relieved that there was a way out of this, that they can save the world, but some small part of her has still been hoping beyond all hope that the city can be saved.
That her home, her entire history, will not simply be wiped away into nothing.
She tells herself not to be selfish. She will live. The people of Sokovia will live. The entire population of the world will live.
But her past won't.
She tells herself that this is good. She can look away from her horrific past and turn her head towards the future. Her and Pietro, they can become something new.
This is where her parents died.
With a gasp she realises that Ultron's "soldiers" are starting to get past her, and she snaps back into reality.
"Wanda," he murmured, holding her close, "I love you."
She hugged him as tightly as she could. "Pietro? What if we die?"
They are all swarming around her relentlessly, and though she knows she can hold them off she feels that a little backup would be nice. It seems to her that their numbers are multiplying.
"We won't die," he said firmly. She gripped his arm tighter.
She hears Hawkeye's exclamations, and she feels rather than hears the gunshots.
"But if we do?"
There are muffled words that she can't hear, and her eyes are widening.
A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth, but it wasn't funny.
She can feel every bit of his pain as if it is her own, and it is unbearable, but he is happy. He is at peace with himself.
"If I die, Wanda..."
He falls.
She falls with him, to her knees.
She senses the breath leaving his body.
She hears Hawkeye's shout.
Everything suddenly has an icy clarity, and she sees.
"Avenge me."
She screams.
(They fly back, away from the core.)
She Avenges him.