Twelve minutes.

Wanda wondered if she maybe made some mistake. Perhaps her brother was still alive, arguing with Clint on a transport as they were rescued. Maybe he was laughing. Maybe he'd laugh that she was worried for him, tease her about it. He was fast. He could outrun the world itself if he tried.

Eleven minutes.

Wanda buried her face in the crook of Vision's neck as they flew. The android hadn't said a word when he picked her up, carried her from the crumbling wreckage of that city. Were all the people truly safe? She knew she cared; somewhere, pushed to the back of her ringing mind, she was glad. How many lives did they save?

Ten minutes.

The Vision set her on the deck of the Helicarrier, wind tossing his cape around. "I have to go," he explained, raising his voice to the engine's roar. "I will… Ultron must not escape."

Wanda nodded, wiping her cheeks with her hand. The words barely registered. Her voice sounded wrong when she responded, "Make sure to kill him. Once and for all." They were garbled, distorted, like wavy glass.

Nine minutes.

When Wanda stumbled below deck, there was an uproar, people cheering for her, asking how she'd gotten away, asking where Vision had gotten to. They think I'm a hero, she realized, staring around blankly.

Finally, her gaze rested on a lone figure, leaning against a wall, exhausted, not meeting her eyes.

Barton.

Eight minutes.

"Where is he?" she asked, pushing her way through the crowd to the archer. She didn't sound angry. She sounded scared, tortured.

Clint pushed off the wall and led her to a door across the way. The others fell silent as they watched the pair go. Wanda saw a few others; Captain Rogers, Stark, all staring after them with pity in their eyes and hearts.

She didn't want it. It was the same pity the police gave her and her brother when their parents died. It was real, of course, but stifling, a constant reminder. Wanda was living that hell, right then. She reminded herself more than enough of the pain. It was a constant.

Seven minutes.

"He… saved a little boy," Barton explained, his throat closing up as they walked. Their shoes clunked dully on the metal floor, echoing off the walls. "Saved me, too."

Wanda was silent.

Six minutes.

She couldn't help but break down when she finally saw Pietro. He lay on a bench, eyes closed. Not peaceful. Wanda knew that someone else had closed his eyes, someone else had laid his body on that bench.

They were hiding under the bed, the shell of a bomb inches from their faces. Pietro refused to let go of her. Wanda was always a fidgety child, and he knew that one wrong move would end them both. She'd stopped crying long ago.

"This is like… like hide and seek," he breathed, not taking his eyes from the weapon. "You mustn't move."

"I know," she muttered, exhausted. They had been like that for days, but could not sleep. They were too terrified. "Can we play something else?"

"Yes," he replied, blinking sleep from his tired eyes. "Yes, I'll decide…"

"Why you?" Wanda asked, petulant even in the face of danger.

"Because I'm older than you," he answered, a hint of hysterical laughter in his voice. "I'm twelve minutes older. We'll play the alphabet game. S-start with A, alright?"

"A… apple," the girl murmured, shivering as night fell.

"B, for bear…"

Five minutes.

Wanda couldn't bear it. "Wake up," she whispered, staring down at her brother's face. "Please, just… this is like hide and seek, right? I found you, you can get up now. Get up. Wake up! Please, just move, breathe, something!"

That night was worse than others. The air was cold enough for snow.

"P for… pancakes?"

"No, P for Pietro," Wanda whispered, sniffling a bit from the frost and the tears.

"Of course, how silly of me."

Four minutes.

"I'm sorry," Barton said quietly, breaking her from her memories. "This… this's my fault."

It took her a moment to respond. "Perhaps." Wanda wiped a bit of blood from her brother's face with her sleeve. "But it does not matter what you did, or who you are."

Clint nodded a few times at the echoing of his words, gaze fixed at the wall.

"What matters is…"

Three minutes.

"Can you hear that, Wanda?" Pietro asked, blinking as the sun's rays infiltrated their ruined home. Sirens were finally wailing in the distance. "That's the new day. They're coming to help us."

"What about mommy and daddy?" his little sister asked, voice muffled by his shirt.

Pietro's heart thudded. He knew what happened to their parents. They never did answer his shouts on that first frigid night. "They'll be okay, too."

"I'm scared."

"You won't be for long, Wanda. This's a new day."

Two minutes.

"Could you leave?" Wanda asked, voice soft. She glanced over her shoulder at Clint, who remained there, arms crossed and face guilty. She saw the tears move down his face. They both needed to be alone, and she needed to say goodbye.

Barton swallowed, standing straighter. "You okay?"

"I… I will be." She tried for a smile. It tasted like smoke and metal, false.

One minute.

"Do you see that, Pietro?" Wanda asked. Outside, the dust was already beginning to settle. The wind was blowing, sweeping the dirt and debris away. They sky was blue once again, and the sun was rising in the sky. "It's a new day."

Out of time.

"W," the little girl breathed as their rescuers began to climb up to them. "W, for Wanda."

"That's right," Pietro said, a smile on his face, tears of joy sliding down his cheeks. Wanda would be safe, in this new day.

That's all that mattered.


Sorry about this.

~WhiteRabbity