A/N: So, Endgame happened and it shattered my heart, so there was only one thing to do: fix it with a fic! This story will be very much focused on Wanda and Vision (without any predictions of what may happen in WandaVision, or whatever the TV series ends up being called) but it will also involve most of the wider Avengers family. I can also say that this will be major wish-fulfilment for me (and I hope other ScarletVision fans), so it will end up very fluffy, I promise.

The events of Endgame are for the most part intact here (even if there is a lot that can be unpicked...and they will change), so needless to say there are spoilers.


All The Stars Are Out

Outside, the birds sang. Oblivious to the hour that was too early. Completely unaware of the mindset of the woman that was on the other side of the wall.

Wanda buried her head beneath the pillow for a little while, hoping to drown out the sweet sounds. They happened at the same damn time every morning, like clockwork. It was to no avail. If anything they chirped even louder, calling to her, leaving only the smallest modicum of silence before breaking into a new melody.

"Okay," she murmured aloud, hands spread to shield her eyes from the light that was seeping into the room, "okay, you win."

The birds chirruped in victory as she dragged herself up, shucking on a hoodie.

Somewhere within her, past the irritability that came from prolonged lack of sleep, she did appreciate their presence and unrelenting efforts to lift her spirits. They were a reminder of the beauty that still existed in the world. Hope emerging from the ruins.

Life, as fragile and volatile as it was, still finding the will to go on.

They were all concepts to her, hanging like pictures encased in glass and frames, things that she could see and perceive the appeal of but nothing that she could touch. Nothing she could scoop up with her hands, absorb into her nerves and fibres.

In the minutes, sometimes hours, of clarity she knew that she was the one enclosed behind something that was far from being so easily breakable.

It had been over a year since the Decimation had been reversed, the universe set right again. Since they'd won, even if the victory seemed hollow underneath it all, too much damage having been caused. They could only paint over the scars, not make them disappear as if they had never been there in the first place. Many things had changed as the world at large learnt to readjust and remember, at the same time as continuing to move in the way it always had done, even when so much had been lost.

For her, nothing had changed. She hadn't expected it to, not with her track record. Loss was a way of life. Death a shadow that followed as closely as her own in blinding sunlight.

Grief was a companion, one whom she knew better than herself in so many respects. Yet it had the capacity to take her by surprise even after such familiarity. Some days she moved with it fluidly, walked with it hand in hand, consoled its coldness in her embrace. Others she stared it down full in the face, determined to show that she was not afraid. That after years and blow after blow that it had wrought upon her she was still on her feet and she would not be taken. She would not fall to her knees in surrender, would fight until her last gasp.

She sat upon the narrow windowsill, legs stretched out, side leaning against the already warm glass. The sun as it rose was high in the sky, foretelling that it would be a very fine day. The sky was painted lilac and soft yellow, the scene untouched save for a couple of the birds who had serenaded her taking flight. She had to admit that the sight was a magnificent one.

The first tear rolled down her cheek effortlessly, almost unnoticed, and she did not bring her sleeve to her face to wipe it away.

To do so would be saying that she wanted to forget, and she never did. After the way he had died, so brutally and needlessly, in such terrible pain that tore at her own soul, she owed it to him to bring him back to life in every moment she was able, when she wasn't paralysed by the sorrow and despair that had sunk into her bones, infinite and always with her, characterising the life she would lead without him.

Perhaps she would have found peace more easily if it had happened the way he had wanted it to, how he had begged and pleaded with her to let his fate come to be. Their awful sacrifice heralded by the universe as something that would never be forgotten. As it was it had crumbled underneath the weight of half the world being obliterated, Vision's name not even one amongst billions as he had been taken in the seconds before.

She had purged most of her anger when she confronted that monster, took her chance whilst it was within grasp and utilised her powers to their full effect, raining terror down upon his head. She remembered him cowering, calling for reinforcement because he was so afraid of her, someone he claimed not to know. It hadn't brought her fulfilment. She had wanted to finish him, tear his head from his shoulders and end his existence in a worse way than he had subjected to Vision. It wasn't right to taint the memory of her love, her angel, with such rage. For the best part she kept it stifled. It was unavoidable though, whenever she considered the injustice that he had suffered, which continued as the world was rebuilt and nobody but her seemed to remember.

They had watched the sunrise only once, in Madrid. He had practically had to lift her from where she had lay, snug in their bed, to witness the perfectly ordinary but nonetheless astounding miracle of nature. He was always fascinated; she was roused not by the emerging light as it streamed steadily through the window but by the catches in his breathing that he was unable to disguise and the small gasps that fell from his throat. She turned her head to look at him, the pure wonder that bathed his expression lighting a flame within her.

He would never realise just how beautiful he was, and while half of her lamented in the fact the other held it close within her chest, cherished.

She tapped at his fingers, watching his smile widen as he brought his gaze away from the horizon and rested it upon her instead. He opened his hand to her touch, letting their fingers knot together.

"I find I don't have the words to describe how magnificent it is."

"That's a good one," she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder, still half-asleep. "I'm glad you got me up for this."

"You're very welcome," he replied softly.

Silence fell into the space between them, as scarce as the gap was, and she was hard-pressed to think of another time when she had felt at such complete peace, even with all of the secrets surrounding them and never staying in one place long enough to make an indelible mark.

"Wanda, I…"

She could feel something stirring within him as her skin was pressed against his own, her mind setting itself into a steady pace and her heart jumping, perhaps hoping too much as she placed her free hand upon his abdomen, his words hanging in the air.

"Vizh?" she said eventually, unable to stop herself, her eyes pinned upon his handsome face.

"Forgive me," he uttered in response. She was confused, the feeling fading fast when he pressed his lips to her temple, and she could do nothing other than beam at the affection he showed her, as pure and kind as he was. "Would you like to go back to bed?"

She smiled, sighing as he raked his fingers through her hair and blinking in the soft rays of the new morning.

"I just want to stay here."

The memories stung her more each time she recalled them. It almost felt like they belonged to someone else now, that she was a thief who had stolen them to fill the void in her heart.

She already knew how she would spend most of the day, and she felt as though she was entitled to the defeat, after having too many days where she had played at being strong. No doubt Laura and the kids would knock on the door to check in on how she was doing. She promised that she'd go through the guitar with Cooper. Lila needed someone to watch while she practised her aim. Nate just wanted someone to play with. She wouldn't be any fun today, though, and so it was better to hide herself away, lying on her bed and wishing the world would stop.

It was an utterly selfish wish, but one which she returned to in her darker moments, when the agony was too much to bear. She wished that she had never been brought back. Death had already taken her past and the other half of her present, and despite those losses leaving her broken she had felt that she could go on, somehow.

When it took her future too then there was nothing left to live for.

She surprised herself by not lying down again and actually making it out of her room, even if she was on the verge of crying almost the entire day. The kids were a great distraction and Nate was especially receptive, picking up on the fact that she needed extra hugs and clinging to her for minutes at a time. She made it through all the way to halfway through dinner when the tears couldn't be held back any longer. She choked out an apology which Clint shook his head at, finding it too painful to look at her in her grief. Laura spoke softly, suggesting that she should get an early night. Hopefully if she went up earlier than was usual it might mean that she had a better chance of sleeping for more than two hours at a time.

The tears were streaming down her face when her head made it to the pillow, her heart aching with the pain that hurt so much, even as she was becoming accustomed to it.

He was on her mind, as he was at every moment, never far away. When she closed her eyes she could see him before her, on his knees, pleading with the desperate and resigned look in his eyes.

How she regretted that it was her lasting memory of him, burned into the recesses of her brain.

You deserve more than sadness and shame, my Vision.

Gasping for breath between her sobs and clutching her stomach, she drifted off, moving in and out of dreams.

The good ones didn't last long enough, slipped through her fingers before she had chance to hold on tight. She willed herself to stay in each of the countries she recalled vaguely, grasping onto Vision's hand, but she kept getting pulled away.

Instead it was the living nightmare that kept returning. She knew that it would haunt her until the end of her days, reminding her of her failure and his sacrifice.

How many outcomes did the man who called himself Strange say there were, when those of them who had been lost were residing in the Soul world? Approximately fourteen million. Yet every time she had this terrible dream she never had the power to change the slightest element. The horrible inevitability pressed down upon her, making it harder to breathe with each passing second.

The scarlet streamed from her hands despite her will, her eyes fixed upon the man she loved with all of her heart and soul, ignoring the demon at her back.

It's alright. It's alright.

She felt the fissures racing their way through the left side of her body, the energy she was firing so intense she was half afraid and half hopeful that it would kill her.

I love you.

With the strength she had left she formed her mouth to say the words he deserved to hear in his final moments, only getting as far as 'I' before everything turned to yellow around her, the reverberation of the shattered Stone hurting her ears and piercing straight at the centre of her chest, cleaving her in two.

She was collapsed on the ground, everything she had drained from her. A touch upon her hair that would have made her curl in revulsion, if she had had any energy left to be aware of it.

but now is no time to mourn. Now…is no time at all.

She felt herself screaming, then hurtling forward upon her toes, sure this time that she could get to him first. She was willing to die if it meant that he was saved. She was happy to.

For the three hundredth and ninety first time she was forced to watch, falling to her knees as the worst thing she could ever imagine happened again, right before her eyes.

She woke with tears blurring her sight, her throat raw and hurting from the effort it took to merely breathe. Sorrow, guilt, helplessness, rage and desolation warred within her, all of the emotions battling to conquer.

She rushed down the stairs and almost didn't make it out of the house before the red burst erratically from her fingertips, shooting her up high into the air before she could bring it under any kind of control. She had kept it all tethered down for long enough; now was not the time for order.

The onslaught of scarlet chaos went on and on, until it claimed all of the atmosphere, a replica of when she had been on the battlefield. She screamed with the force of it, causing fresh sparks to fly from her hands, rising her higher still in the sky. She began to cry which brought forth yet more, and she grew so weak that she believed that it really was going to be the end, that this time she would be the one to put an end to the universe, the energy spilling to its very last drop.

She had no recollection of how she ended up back in her bed in the morning, the birds outside her window choosing to sing a softer song that she was barely able to make out. Perhaps her display had scared them too much.

With tiptoed steps she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, despite it being little past six. She was more than a little shocked to discover that she wasn't the first up, Clint leaning over the counter. He didn't seem to notice her at first, but his head bobbed towards her before she could make her way round. Her eyes were heavy and anxious, yet he smiled straight at her.

"I just made a pot," he gestured. It was funny; she never had him pinned as a tea-drinker, yet he seemed to go through it quicker than she did. "You want some?"

She nodded, climbing up onto one of the stools that were lined up, usually occupied by the kids while Laura battled to get the family to sit at the table instead.

She took a couple of steady sips, the brew stronger than she usually liked it, the metal of her rings clinking against the cup as her fingers moved restlessly.

"I'm sorry," she began, her voice shaking despite herself, "if I disturbed the kids…"

"Those three will sleep through anything," he quickly replied, a little smile stretching across his lips as he thought of his children. "We always said we were blessed to have heavy sleepers. One of the many traits they inherited from their mother."

She watched as he rubbed a hand over his face, knowing that he was suffering from the same insomnia as she was prone to these days.

"I'm the last person you need to apologise to," he continued, his gaze fatherly in its intensity and concern. "It's good for you to let it out."

She looked sheepish as she met his eyes again. "I don't feel any better for it. In fact, I think I feel worse." Her head was throbbing on both sides and her stomach was sore, as if she had been kicked repeatedly. "The trouble is," she began again, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice, "I don't want to feel better."

It was a horrible and ultimately destructive way to think, she knew. She could see it by the way Clint was looking at her. She was trying so hard not to succumb, retaining her status as an Avenger and even working on a few missions, though they were few and far between. Aside from Clint, Laura and the kids, it was all she had left. She could help others, even if she was unable to help herself. It was what she wanted to pour her energy into, making the world that was still healing from the destruction that had been brought upon it a better place. It was undoubtedly what Vision would have done if their places had been switched.

"I know that's bad," she said, in a regretful whisper.

Clint just shook his head in a gesture of empathy. "I'm in no position to judge. If it wasn't for Laura and the kids, I'd be doing exactly the same."

She smiled weakly, feeling safe and understood in this moment. Nat's death had hit him hard. Her too, coming as another body blow when she was reeling and confused, adjusting to the fact that five years had apparently passed while they'd been trapped. Nat had been so much to her, her mentor and friend, closest confidante after Vision. She'd been the first one she had told about her and Vision. She hadn't got the chance to say goodbye or thank you, and it had been beyond unfair that Nat hadn't fought alongside them in the final battle, when she had been the one who rallied them all, Clint had told her, determined to set the world on the right course again.

She knew that Clint was the closest of all to Nat, their bond being a deep and enduring one. Nat had mourned him while he was still living but no longer an Avenger, and she remembered how Nat often wore an arrow necklace, it being one of her most treasured possessions. She had nearly tore apart one of the motels they had stayed at when it had been the four of them, believing it to have gone missing.

"How do you keep going?" she asked him candidly, knowing he wouldn't refuse to answer. Perhaps she could pick up some new coping mechanisms.

"I…I honestly don't know. I take it day by day, I guess. Hour by hour and minute by minute when necessary." She nodded, recognising that impulse only too well. "Doesn't mean that it isn't damn hard. I guess I try and stay focused. Do some shooting. Think about why she did what she did, and not dwell on how I'd give anything if I could go back and do it differently, make the step before she could. I think about what she would want me to do."

It gave her comfort to know that her own way of thinking wasn't out of the ordinary, was common to anyone who was going through the same kind of loss. It was the main touchpoint that stopped her slipping entirely, thinking of what Vision would want for her.

"But some days I'm, like, screw it. I don't want to do anything other than lie on the sofa, make my way through a few beers and wallow." He let out a lengthy sigh, and she wondered whether he was nearing that state, like she had done in not quite the same way the day before.

Grief claimed a person entirely.

"I hope for your sake your mind doesn't go to the kinds of places mine does, kid."

She couldn't lie to him, instead shrugging her shoulders lightly and taking another long sip of tea.

She had started to think that she needed to move out, get her own place or perhaps move in with Sam or Bucky, who both had rooms to spare. She felt like she had leant on Clint and Laura long enough, though they had been nothing but accommodating, certainly in no rush to shoo her out. There was no doubting that she would be forever grateful to them for giving her what they had in the months that she had been at her most vulnerable, and it had been so good to stay in one place and feel grounded.

If she was being honest then she didn't want to curse them by staying any longer, getting too attached.

She talked for a while with Clint about nothing in particular, the small talk helping to ease her mind, though it inevitably kept drifting back to Vision.

Pouring out the remainder of the pot into her cup, Clint covered her hand with his.

"I know one thing; it will get better. No matter how long it takes."

She nodded at him, a lump engulfing her throat, though she had made a promise to herself not to cry today.

"Now, you finish that," he said, moving away from the counter to the sink, "and go and get some rest. I don't want to see you back down here until after noon at the very earliest."

A Hawkeye order was an order, even if he had relinquished the title.

Sitting on the bed she knew she wouldn't get to sleep straight away, so she reached blindly for the drawer at the bedside. Her stomach twisted when she took the book out of it and it took her a good ten minutes before she opened it, the place where she had left off still intact though it had been so long.

Her hands were shaking as she rested them against the pages. Come on, she gave herself a pep-talk, you can do this.

It took another five minutes before she felt settled enough to begin, remembering how hard it was to read in English, but right now she welcomed the challenge.

He was deep in concentration, head angled forward just a little, the book placed at the perfect distance from which to read most comfortably. She stayed lying on the pillow, gazing up at him with a contented smile upon her face. She couldn't stop herself from thinking how downright sexy he looked, so focused and absorbed entirely in the task. Kind of like an extremely attractive professor, which was apt given his usual choice of attire. However right now he was as naked as she was, with only the thin sheet to cover them.

As she watched him intently she noticed how every so often his lips would quirk, evidently amused by a certain passage. The unconscious gesture made her heart flutter, and a pulsing start lower down her body.

After a little while her attention began to wane.

"Vision," she rasped, lifting herself up to rest half against the headboard and half against him.

He responded with a "hmmm", not taking his eyes from the pages in front of him, utterly rapt.

She curled her hand delicately around his wrist, letting her fingers dance slowly and teasingly up his forearm. She could have well chosen to employ a little magic to make her intentions crystal clear but she decided not to, confident in her natural allure.

He caved when she swept her fingertips over the crease of his elbow, emitting a low murmur of a moan which brought a mischievous smile to her lips.

"Finally you notice," she practically purred, leaning in to brush her mouth lightly at his neck, which she swore caused him to shiver, "I was beginning to think you found that more interesting than me."

He smiled back at her, tilting his head unfortunately out of her reach. "Never."

Keeping the book rested in his lap he took hold of her free hand, caressing her fingers with his own before lifting it to his lips and pressing a considered kiss in the centre of her palm. Sparks akin to volts of electricity surged in her veins.

"I have got to a very thrilling part, however, so I am compelled to continue for a little longer."

She huffed in disappointment, really certain that she had won him over. He chuckled at her display, holding the book one-handed while his other stayed holding hers, her head pillowed upon his shoulder.

"At least read it out to me," she murmured. Even if she had been hoping for a different outcome she was secretly rather thrilled, always adoring when he read to her. She found it such a pain to try and read in English, even if she had got a lot better over the last couple of years. Besides nothing matched hearing his voice pronounce all the finely-crafted words of the language she often found completely puzzling. "I don't want to miss out on all of the fun."

"Of course," he replied, with an excited smile which faltered only slightly as he paused for thought. "But you will require a detailed summary of the events that have occurred thus far."

"I think I'll pick it up, Vizh. Just begin."

She found herself following the story quite easily, swept up in his obvious enthusiasm, and as he read page after page she could see why he had got so hooked. Once he had finished for himself she would have to borrow it and go back to the start, though knowing Vision he would be more than happy to comply and read all he had previously out to her.

They had better ways in which to spend their precious time together.

He came to a natural stop in the book, having noticed that she hadn't laughed or gasped at the action in a little while.

"Wanda," he uttered, "are you tired? We have got through quite a lot, more than I expected."

She shook her head, sitting up again. "I'm not tired. I've just got a little distracted."

"I thought that might have been the case. Oh, not that I…I wasn't implying…"

He was so adorable when he got all flustered and tongue-tied. It made her fall for him harder, as well as making her more than a little aroused.

She brought her thumb up to his mouth, stopping him before he could say any more, her own curving upwards.

"I'd really like you to do something else with your lips now, Vizh."

"Oh," he answered, his gaze intensifying on her as she stroked her fingers against the curve of his jaw.

In the next second he had put her onto her back against the soft mattress, making her giggle as she looked up at him and then murmuring in approval as he began to kiss his way from her collarbone to her throat.

"I think that is a very good idea, Wanda."

She made her way through at least twenty five pages before she started to yawn and felt her eyes begin to droop. She needed to take advantage of feeling sleepy when it occurred so she folded the top of the page she had finished on neatly before closing the cover.

Before she could put the book back in the drawer she saw that the folded piece of paper had fallen out of the back and onto the bed. If she listened to her head then she would have put it back into its place without hesitation and certainly not have opened it out to read it over again, more than three months after it had been received.

When it arrived at the Barton residence, addressed with her name, she had been surprised and more than a little confused. Who could possibly be writing to her? The shock grew larger when she saw the letter-headed piece of note paper staring her in the face.

Though they had all hoped and in some instances prayed, not one of them had expected that Stark would pull through. After he had made the snap with the makeshift gauntlet, bringing destruction to Thanos and his army, it was almost certain that in doing so he had brought the same fate upon himself. She never expected that he would have been the one to do it, to make the sacrifice that the universe depended upon. She had watched from afar as Pepper, Peter and Rhodey gathered around him, making a circle of protection which could have only been a gesture of love as he neared his end rather than anything more significant. She thought of Vision and how it would have affected him deeply to witness his creator face such a fate. In a way, she was glad he hadn't been there to see it.

Against all the odds, Tony Stark persisted, Doctor Strange registering a very weak pulse. They managed somehow to keep him alive until he got to the hospital, Pepper clinging onto his hand all the while. He spent three months in a coma and another three hospitalised as he recovered enough to be brought home. It was clear that he would never again be Iron Man, perhaps losing a lot more besides his title and Avenger status, but the miracle of his survival made all of the adversity pale into insignificance.

Once again she unfurled the note, taking in a deep breath as if she were reading it for the first time.

Ms Maximoff –

I'm aware that, being the person you despise most in the universe (now that purple bastard is dust), you probably don't even want to read this letter. Please, just give me a chance before you tear it into pieces. (I was thinking of sending you a hologram clip to say all of this in person, but Pepper made the very valid point that you'd probably use those powers of yours to blitz virtual me into oblivion within the first couple of seconds, so I figured the old fashioned way would be better.)

Where do I begin without sounding like the biggest cliché on the planet? I guess with the most important thing I have to say: I'm sorry. I truly am sorry for all of the pain and anguish I've caused you in your life. I know I can't say or do enough, and that this has come way too late for it to even really mean anything. I regret that. I should have made amends, or at least tried to, sooner, before it all got out of hand. What I'm saying is, don't think this has come because for some unknown reason something decided to give me the last of my many chances. I wanted to say this before now but…well, you know how messed up it all got. It's all on me. (Maybe ten, fifteen per cent on Rogers. But that's by the by.)

Anyway, the next most important thing. We lost Vision. Again, I'm truly sorry. There was a lot more that I could have done. I should have taken better care of him, not tried to think that I knew best. I was stupid (again) and believed I knew all there was to know when I didn't. He was so much more than I ever thought capable. He was evolving, and I think that a good part of that was down to you. I know how attached he was to you, even if I was trying to ignore it.

I wish I would have woken up from my stupor. If I would have known what was coming then I could have done something, or at least given it a good shot. Worked on making a replica of the Stone, transfer his consciousness, find a comparable power source…I don't know, maybe it wouldn't have worked. My biggest regret in life will be that I never got to find out whether it was possible. My body is a wreck right now, and my mind isn't much better.

I'm sorry.

I totally understand if you wouldn't want to, but know that my door is always open to you, if you ever want to accept my olive branch. It'd be really good to talk with someone who cherished Vision the way I should have done. (well, not quite the way I should have done…I'm glad he had that, though. Affection. That he showed it to you and you reciprocated. It's the most human thing any of us can experience, and so I believe that, thanks to you, he left this world with his greatest wish fulfilled.)

Let me know.

Yours sincerely, and with eternal thanks,

Tony.

She fixated on the fourth paragraph for the longest time, giving her the tiniest spark of hope. There might be a way to bring him back. She didn't pretend to even begin to know what possible, but Stark wasn't the only one who was capable, surely. He had constructed and programmed Vision, but he hadn't been alone in doing so. And then there was Princess Shuri, who was the most technologically and intellectually gifted of all. As far as she was aware Vision's body was still in Wakanda; nobody had informed her differently.

A lot had changed, though, and what was she in respect of three point eight billion people?

Stark's words swam around her head, staying there as she succumbed to her urge to sleep and lose herself for a few hours – at least that was something more achievable to hope for – both the book and note dropping onto the floor, one more noticeable in the thud it made than the other.


She met with Sam and Bucky on a fortnightly basis to go through training exercises, having no intention of getting complacent. Since before the battle, when they had all been trapped in the Soul universe, she had become fully aware what she was capable of, honing her powers in anticipation of confronting him, determined to avenge Vision to the greatest degree possible. Now that she knew exactly how to harness her energy for the ultimate effect she wanted to keep practising so she was ready when the next threat came.

They took it in turns to travel to one another – and sometimes further afield – and it had been time to visit Sam in New York. He'd took them out to a park not too far from where he was living, secure enough to prevent any unnecessary damage being caused to the surrounding neighbourhoods and enclosed enough to afford them privacy. Now, more than ever, the new Avengers attracted attention.

"When you going to take the shield for a spin, Cap?" Bucky taunted Sam, who had elected to use his Falcon wings for this particular session.

"Soon," Sam replied, soaring upwards purposely to put some distance between himself and Bucky, "I'm still getting used to it. And I don't want to be careless."

"Sure. Then you'll come up with another excuse, and another..."

"Am I really going to waste my time listening to you boys arguing?" Wanda interjected, the scarlet orbs glowing and starting to grow larger in her hands.

"The lady's got a point," Bucky said, nodding towards her.

"Okay then," Sam touched down, "on my count. Three, two, one."

The trio played off against each other, as well as hitting out against imaginary forces, Bucky and Wanda responding to Sam's commands. Even if he wasn't yet using the shield in practice he was doing a pretty good job in stepping up to the mantle of being Captain America, a monumental task.

The energy was flowing from Wanda, and she built force-fields around both Bucky and Sam before she focused it on the three-mile radius that Sam had set out, manipulating the scarlet into super-powered bursts which she fired one after the other, building up bigger bolts as she levitated higher into the air.

"Wanda," she heard Sam calling to her as she continued to fire, "take it easy. You're going to tire yourself out."

She could almost discern Steve's voice in Sam's words, taking her back in time, before everything fell apart.

"I can do this!" she answered him, using her powers of manipulation to warp the molecules of the atmosphere around them, fighting against threats that existed only in her own mind.

"I know you can," Sam shouted above the noise, "but you don't have to, not right now."

She clenched her jaw as she continued to fight, wanting to give everything she had. She needed the release that using her powers so intensely provided, to feel nothing except complete exhaustion in body and soul.

"Just drop down," Sam's voice came to her again.

She had built so much power that she was having trouble dialling the levels down.

"I can't."

"You can. Break my field and I can help you."

She barely had the energy to turn herself, having used so much of it warping the sky into a crimson void. It took some effort but she did it, shooting bursts down towards the force field that had Sam fenced, being careful not to hit him by accident. Once it was destroyed he shot into the air towards her, bringing her down to the ground. It took a while for her to switch everything off, her eyes still glowing red. Sam counted steadily, helping her to regulate her breathing until, finally, she was calm.

"We should probably call it a night," Bucky suggested, stepping closer to where Wanda and Sam were sitting on the ground. "Subway?"

Sam shook his head. "We're not far, let's walk it off." He looked at Wanda with concern. "You okay to do that?"

She nodded, reaching for the hand that Bucky extended to her. "Yeah, I'm okay."

They got back to Sam's apartment in good time, Bucky ordering some pizzas of which Wanda managed a few small slices. She felt Sam's eyes on her for most of the evening, and decided to give them both a break by retreating to the spare room that was hers for the next couple of days before the film that she hadn't really paid much attention to anyway came to an end.

It had been about twenty minutes until a knock came on the door.

"Hey," Sam uttered, sheepishly poking his head around, "I just wanted to check that you're okay."

"I'm okay," she said from her spot perched on the edge of the bed.

Those two words had become an automatic response for her.

"Because, you know, your eyes were all crazy…and you had me a little freaked."

She laughed weakly at his skittish demeanour. "Really, I'm fine."

It was a strange thing to say, perhaps, but she had been glad that Sam had been amongst their number when it had happened, quicker than any of them could come to terms with. He had looked after her in the Soul universe, more accurately put up with her while she had cried and screamed herself to a similar state of exhaustion, mourning helplessly. He hadn't left her side through the worst of times, of which there had been plenty, until she had eventually adapted to the surreal world they had found themselves in, waiting.

"You don't need to come here just to train, you know," he said, having taken the spot next to her, "if you ever just want to get away from things, hang out…you can call me."

"Doesn't Captain America have other things he needs to be doing, other than just 'hanging out'?" she smiled.

"Hey, don't you get on my back about it as well," he quipped, breaking into a laugh along with her.

She nodded. "I know. And I'm grateful. I'm doing…okay."

He frowned. "You sure about that? I mean, after tonight…"

"I just lost my head for a little bit, that's all. Once I get some sleep I'll be good."

He didn't look entirely convinced, so she put on the best smile that she could manage in the circumstances.

"You should go and see him, while you're here," he said after a few moments. "It might help."

She dropped her gaze to her lap, fiddling with the silver and scarlet stone ring in permanent residence on her left hand. "I don't know…I don't really think it's for me."

"You don't need to take part in the group."

She knew by looking at him that Sam was hopeful that she might change her mind about that aspect, despite his assurances.

"Just go and say hey, show your face. I know that he'd be glad to see you."

There was that, she supposed. She hadn't been great at staying in touch, and it was the ideal opportunity while she was in town.

"Alright," she conceded, smiling a little easier, giving Sam's shoulder a little bump with hers. "And does Cap have anything he wants to pass on to Cap?"

Sam snickered. "Just that the Winter Soldier is being a giant pain in America's ass."

She stood on the other side of the street, watching other people going in to the centre – regulars, she supposed – before plucking up the courage to walk in herself, doubting her decision with every step. There were a few seats taken while other milled around, collected in pairs or threes at the refreshments table. She stayed away once she had grabbed a cup of water and kept her gaze low, hoping not to be recognised - not that the baseball cap ever did such a great job.

She felt like a fraud being there, as if she was taking up a space of someone who needed the support more than she did. The sign on the door had been altered, advocating that all were welcome. No longer was it solely for survivors of the Decimation – only those who had been left – but for anyone who was struggling to adjust, having lost five years of their lives without any choice.

From amid the low hum of chatter, the warm and familiar voice could be heard, greeting the turn-out one by one. Wanda looked up, and when she caught Steve's gaze she knew that it was too late to turn tail. She took a seat near the edge of the circle, making eye contact and politely smiling at the people either side of her, a woman who looked to be in her mid to late fifties and a young man who didn't appear to be older than eighteen. Around the room the age range was wide.

"Welcome, everyone," Steve said from his seat, which was off-centre. "I can see a few new faces here, so I'd like to extend a special welcome to you all, and thank you for your courage."

Wanda felt her face burning, even if the greeting wasn't directed specifically towards her.

Steve went on to explain that there was no expectation to contribute, that anyone could say as much or as little as they wanted. There were no introductions either, something else that she was relieved about.

For most of the session she tuned in and out, feeling bad about not paying full attention to what everyone was saying. She did try, but some of the experiences that were shared were too painful for her to absorb herself in. At one point the woman sitting next to her burst into loud sobs and excused herself. Wanda felt like she should have done something, reached out a consoling hand, but she was running on a delay. Luckily a couple of other members of the group who both seemed to know the woman quite well went to comfort her.

"What I wanted to talk a little bit about today is the matter of time," Steve steered the discussion back on course when things had taken a lull. "I know that it's a sensitive topic, so please feel free to get some air and look after yourself if it's something you're not ready to think about too much yet."

A couple of people left the room, Steve thanking them for their contributions. The crying woman had already departed.

"Time," Steve reiterated gently to those who were left, "it's our biggest enemy as well as being our greatest healer. I don't have to tell any of you that it's hard to get past the first part. Especially now, when we're all living by the clock. Everywhere we look we're being told that time is marching by and we all need to keep up the pace. Well, today I wanted to remind you all that no two people share the same perception of time. We all set our own pace, and it's important to be aware of that. Please don't feel guilty or that you're not progressing enough because you're not where your neighbour is, or if you're not where you were before this happened. Give yourself the time you need. You might not notice it but each day you are moving forward. You're making great steps. Time is on your side, you just need to let it be your friend and not your enemy."

A sense of calm had descended upon the room and as she glanced around she noticed that even those who had appeared sceptical beforehand looked different now, as if they were willing to give the words a chance.

Another couple of people felt ready to share their stories, Steve giving them the floor and only interjecting to offer nods and smiles of encouragement. The clock on the wall told that an hour had passed, though it seemed less than that.

"Okay, this week's 'homework', which is related to the topic of the day. Until we meet again I'd like everyone to take a little time each day entirely for themselves. It can be anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour, though I'd recommend fifteen minutes as the absolute minimum. Go somewhere that makes you feel good and comfortable, whether it's the park, the gym…your own room. And just…do what you need to do, for yourself. I promise you, it's not a selfish thing. It's a vital part of your journey."

Wanda hung back while Steve said goodbye to each person individually, offering handshakes and in the odd case a pat to the shoulder. When the room had emptied he came to where she was standing by the refreshments table, a bright smile on his face.

"It's so good to see you," he said, engulfing her in a hug.

"Likewise," she returned, the word muffled against his shoulder, her hands having unknotted themselves.

He stepped back to give her space, perhaps also to check her over.

"I'm here with Sam and Bucky," she explained, though she realised that he had probably guessed.

"Keeping it all going," he quipped with a smile in his tone.

"Somebody has to."

The words came out harder than she had intended, but before she could move to clarify her meaning he issued her with another reassuring look.

"We couldn't have left things in better hands."

She smiled, feeling like she couldn't say too much yet.

"You're doing really well here. That sounds weird, but…it's a good set-up." Ugh, nothing she was saying was making the least bit of sense. Was she really that out of touch? "Everyone seems to be getting something out of it."

"Well, I hope so." Steve rocked back on his heels, hands in the pockets of his khakis. "All I can do is keep turning up, offering a place for people to go to when they need it. I can't know what happens when they walk out of the door, but as long as there's a turn-out, even if it's just one person, then I have to hope that it's making a difference."

It hadn't surprised her too much when she had heard about Steve's new career, through Sam. It was a little funny to think that they had swapped places, technically, but it made sense. Steve had always maintained that being a hero was as much about the small, often unnoticed acts than working at a bigger scale. If anything those little things amounted to more. The public at large might have seen it as a retirement and not a particularly grand one for someone like Captain America, but by the way he held himself it was clear that he considered what he was doing a privilege.

"It is," she affirmed, "I can see it."

He smiled, always making her feel like her opinion mattered. "Can I ask you how you are?"

"I'm getting there," she said, an answer that was more honest than she would give to most people. "I feel like I should be used to it by now, everything I'm feeling, but I'm not."

He nodded in empathy. She couldn't begin to imagine how many people he had lost along the way, in so many different circumstances.

"What you said, about time…I think I need to take that on board. Just give myself a break." She broke his gaze, the awful mix of sorrow and desperation floating up to the surface once more. "I…I know it's not helpful, but I keep thinking, if I could have one more day…then maybe I could handle it better."

She felt a hand upon her shoulder, and she forced herself to smile in gratitude.

"It'd never be enough, though, so I don't know why I keep thinking about it."

All they had wanted was time. She had thought too much about how they should have appreciated what they did have; many other people didn't get quite so much, or ever even get the chance to find their soulmate.

Steve had already apologised to her, though there was nothing that he could have done. Nothing anyone could have done, other than herself if she hadn't been so selfish and had acted sooner. He was a hero, he had told her after the battle had been won, when they were all waiting on news of Stark and feeling utterly helpless. The best kind there is.

Vision would have been so proud to know that Captain Rogers held him in such high regard.

"I know I didn't say anything," she continued, "but it did help. More than I thought it would."

"I'm glad," Steve replied, patting his hand lightly on her back. "You're more than welcome to come back any time. Not just here."

"If you keep giving out these donuts, then I might have to seriously think about it."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Take a couple for the road. I thought people would have gone crazy for the caramel kind, but maybe good old-fashioned plain is better."

She took one each for Sam and Bucky – Sam being more relaxed about what an Avenger's diet consisted of than Steve himself had – and said her goodbyes, making sure he knew that the invitation to visit extended both ways. Clint would benefit from some reminiscence about the good old days, even if he didn't admit to as much.

On her way out she took one of the quote postcards that were pinned to the wall, offering themselves out. It wasn't until she was on the long ride back to the Barton farm that she looked at it properly.

You are who you have always been – everything that you need.

She wasn't sure that was entirely true, but tomorrow was another day to keep trying.


The sky looked so different out here, almost as though it had been painted by an artist. Every night there were new sights to be discovered. The kids were so lucky, not only to have parents like Clint and Laura, but to have such an amazing space stretching out around them to call their own, that they could go on exploring forever if they wanted to.

She walked down a little bit further tonight, but close enough to still be in sight of the house. There was nothing except the gentle breeze and the distant sounds of the birds, settled in for the night. It felt a little like she was the only person left in the universe, but it wasn't something that filled her with dread.

She knew that, out here, underneath the cover of the stars, the very opposite was true.

It hadn't been a conscious decision, at least not on the level she was operating on. Something had just clicked while she had been in New York. She still wasn't sure if she would go back to the group, but perhaps she might look into finding something closer, even seeing a therapist one-on-one. Maybe this would be enough. Anyhow, she was doing her homework and it was helping, even if some days were still worse than terrible. Steve would be proud of her for literally and metaphorically getting off her ass.

Craning her head she smiled as she made out the pattern just to the left of her eye line. Anyone else would say that it was mere coincidence, but she knew otherwise.

"Pietro," she uttered aloud, her voice echoing upon the empty air, "Vy vyrishyly z'yavytysya. Yaki pryhody vy maly? Yakyy vohonʹ vy pochaly? Rozkazhy meni pro tse."

It had taken some time until she could do it, after he had gone, but speaking to her twin always brought a smile to her face. She talked in Sokovian, as well as a little of the private language they had used with one another, until she felt content that she had shared all he needed to know. She did try and mask her sorrow, but Pietro being Pietro, he would be feeling what she was, wherever he was in the universe. She apologised for causing him pain by feeling so low and bid him a restful night, with vsya moya lyubov.

Her throat got tighter as she collected herself, focusing her attention on the vast sky studded with thousands of stars. She had stopped herself from practising what she was going to say too much, knowing it was best to just go with her heart.

"Vizh," she began, her heart hammering against her chest and her temples as she uttered the syllable that meant so much to her. The entire world. "I'm going to talk to you as if you're here, and you can hear me. I don't know if that's silly, but I think you can, somehow. And I think everyone around me would probably say that I've been quiet for too long. I mean, I know I'm driving Clint and Laura crazy because sometimes I can go whole days without saying more than a few sentences. I just feel like it's better to be like that than to fill the space needlessly. And really, they're okay with it. They're great. I just…I don't want to make them worry when they've got enough going on. They don't need another kid to look after."

She smiled wistfully as the truth became clearer in her mind.

"You were the only person I could talk to, and know that I was understood. Because you felt the same way. Maybe not about everything, but about everything that mattered. You knew me better than anyone. Even better than Pietro, although," she lowered her voice to a momentary whisper, "don't tell him I said that."

She imagined that more than once, Pietro and Vision somehow being together, watching out for her. Waiting for her to return, many years in the future.

"Life without you is…not the life I wanted to live. It's strange, and white, and…I don't know how I fit. But I'm trying to figure it out. I'm not short of people wanting to help me out, which is nice. Sam, Bucky, Steve…even Stark, if you can believe that. Maybe he's not as bad as I always thought, or maybe all of this has changed him. No, I know that's not fair. I know that the good has always been in him, he was just better at burying it beneath everything else. He made you, after all, which is all the proof I need."

The tears which were already in her eyes grew hotter, more persistent, though she was determined not to let them fall, not until she had finished.

"I haven't replied to him yet, but I will. I just…I had to talk to you first, because…well, I always want to talk to you, Vizh. And I hate that I can't hear your voice talking back. I hate that I can't see you or feel you holding me. That I'll have to go on never knowing any of that ever again. I haven't talked to you sooner because I wanted to make the most of my last chance. I guess I picked a perfect night for it, or maybe you did it for me. You should see how bright the stars are out here, Vizh, they're like nothing I've ever seen. We never did get to go up amongst them again. I was hoping and dreaming so hard. I know you were too."

She took in a deep breath to steady herself, exhaling it slow.

"I had so many dreams for us. Maybe I was foolish when things were never going to last forever…but I don't regret any of them. They won't come true, and I have to do what I can to live with that. What I can do is do my best so that the dreams that you had can come true. I know that's not possible in every case, but where it is then I'll try my very best. You always believed in me, Vizh, right to the very end. And now that I don't have you with me…well, I'll just have to keep looking up and fly for the both of us."

Though her heart felt like it was finally breaking for good, it did make her feel better to say out loud what had been locked there for so long.

She fixed her gaze on the brightest star amongst them all, both hands placed upon her chest.

"Ty ye vse. And you always will be."

The night was getting colder, though the growing darkness did not bother her. She could not head back to the house until she had said the one thing she needed to, the biggest regret that shadowed all of her days and nights. Speaking it just once would not redeem her – just as speaking to him at all like this would never really be enough - but she had to believe that it would set her on her way, release at least some of the anguish in her heart and turn it into stardust, where he might be able to feel it.

Exhaling another breath she filled her lungs with the dusk air, saying the words as loud as she could in her native tongue, the truest way she could proclaim.

"Ya tebe kohayu."

She always would, forever, until the very same stars and all the rest burned out.


A/N: I originally planned for more to happen in this chapter, but the story is already running away with me. I also felt it was important to look a little more in-depth at Wanda's grieving process and give it the focus that Endgame couldn't. Not to mention showing that Vision hasn't been forgotten!

Ukrainian (Sokovian) to English translations:

Vy vyrishyly z'yavytysya. Yaki pryhody vy maly? Yakyy vohonʹ vy pochaly? Rozkazhy meni pro tse = You decide to appear. What adventures did you have? What fire did you start? Tell me about it

vsya moya lyubov = all my love

Ty ye vse = You are everything

Ya tebe kohayu = I love you

I also learnt that there are two types of love in Ukrainian, which I'm basing Sokovian on. 'Lyubov' is between family (parents/children/siblings) and 'kohayu' is for romantic love.

I also couldn't resist a little nod to Elizabeth Olsen's role in Sorry For Your Loss.