Good morning everyone! Since this is a whole different universe from what I'm used to do, we might not know each other. I'm Tory and I usually write anime fanfics. Yet, I really love the Twins and wanted to write a story on them (based on the end of the movie Age of Ultron, it will spoil you ;) )

This will be in 3 chapters (those who know me are used to this format). English is not my first language so please be kind if you see any typo =D

Disclaimer : I do not own any of those characters =)

Losing someone is the most painful thing in the world. It's like a part of your soul is ripped from you.

The very first people I lost were my parents. We were dining together, and the next second, there was a hole on the floor where they'd been sitting. A second shell was on the room.

I spent two days crying in my brother's arms, mourning my parents, but also mourning our own souls – I really didn't give us a single survival chance.

Eventually, we survived. Our souls were wounded forever, tainted with fear, pain, loss, but we were alive. We were together.

I could not imagine a world without Pietro. Well, actually I could, but that would have been a world without me either. He was all I had. My family. My best friend. My other part. My whole universe.

When he died, it didn't feel like a part of my soul was ripped off. It felt like my heart, my lungs, my brain, every single organ on my body was crushed, was being dissolved, like I drank a whole bottle of bleach. My mind went blank. Honestly, I can't even recall what happened after he died. I have some memories about the Vision saving me. Or maybe sentencing me to life. I didn't really cared if I died. I already did.

They told me I killed the last Ultron robot. They told me Pietro died saving Barton and some stupid kid who should have stayed with his mother. They told me we were heroes.

Is this how it feels, to be a hero? Empty on the inside, without the strength to even get out of bed, to breathe only because you're programmed to? To live in a colourless world, with dull sounds, flavourless food? Sometimes, when I wake up, I wish the shell had blown up back then. I almost miss those two days of fear. Because I could hear his heart beat in his chest. Because I could feel his hand stroking my hair, while rocking me.

I do not have the strength to cry anymore. I barely have the strength to live, but I don't have the strength to die. The only heart I can hear is mine, and it feels like an insult to his memory.

The only day I got up was on his funerals. I was sitting here, in a plastic chair, hearing a man praying a God I didn't believe in. I knew a God, and my brother was still gone. There weren't many people. Some S.H.I.E.L.D agents, the Avengers. Barton wiped a tear at a moment, but my eyes were dry.

At the end of the ceremony, I put a crown of flowers on his grave. We used to do it on our parents' tombstone when we were young.

"Wanda... I can't possibly imagine what you are living through, but still... Are you sure this was a good idea?"

Romanoff was talking about the epitaph. Of course, the "A beloved brother, and a true hero" was nothing to be surprised about, but she was talking about the second part, the one I asked to add.

I dared a smile, sad, melancholic.

"Yeah. He would have loved it."

She sighed, and they left me alone for a while. My fingers absent-mindedly played on the engravings of the controversial epitaph. "You didn't see that coming?"

He would really have loved it.

I stayed in bed for two weeks after that. I barely ate. Barely slept. I kept on staring at the wall, lost in my thoughts.

I once got really sick, and I could not go out for a week. I was burning up, but the hospital was way to expensive for my family. Every day, Pietro would collect everything he found, shards of coloured glass, weird-looking stones, distorted sticks, and would bring them to me, use them to tell me all the crazy things happened to him on the day. None of his stories were true, I knew it, and he knew I knew, but we both pretended, and his presence by itself healed me. I kept every treasure he brought me in a box under my bed. That is, until my house blew off.

Another time, when we were experiments for Hydra, I got really scared. I was having a nightmare and lost my control over my powers, almost killing a scientist who was trying to calm me down. Not that I was particularly fond of those men, my own powers scared me. If I could kill someone in my sleep, no one was safe. Not even Pietro.

I heard a loud noise, and screams. Something like "Stop him!". The door of my room was kicked out of its hinges and a flash of pure silver dashed to me. Before I could even understand what happened, I was in my brother's arms, surrounded by a familiar smell, a comforting warmth. The scientists realized that I was gaining control over my powers again, crying with my head buried in my brother's chest. They understood that we were a whole, that one without each other was a bomb while we would cooperate if we could be together. After that day, we were allowed to stay with each other. We slept in the same room, most of the time in the same bed, like when we were little kids.

All of that was gone.

But yet, I could still remember his warmth. The way he pouted when he was thinking I was too slow. The wrinkles under his eyes when he did something silly and tried to hide his stupid smile. The way his brows frowned when he was mad or worried. The way his eyes gleamed with sorrow when he was pretending to be strong for her.

He wasn't all gone. He was still there, in my memory. This is what took me two weeks to understand. He would probably have kicked my ass for weeping for two whole weeks. The second I got that, I regained the ability to cry, and I let my tears roll for a full hours. This was the kind of tears that relieved you, that took away the pain.

It didn't mean that my heart stopped bleeding for him, but my head was clear now. I joined the Avengers. My duty was to save people, not to stay in a bed thinking about the past. My duty was to make sure no more families would be torn apart.

Everyone looked relieved to see me going out, finally, and I realized they all been worried about me. I took a deep breath.

"Well, I guess I need to make up for those two weeks of slacking off, uh?"

Barton chuckled and ruffled my hair.

"All right Sokovian girl. I do hope your not planning to fight wearing a dress, because the training will be tough."

I gave him an insolent look.

"Don't you worry, even if I was wearing a bikini and high heels I would still be able to kick your ass."

"Say that again and a bikini will be your official outfit. Get ready, training room, in five minutes."

Romanoff tapped my shoulder with a friendly smile, the Vision welcomed me with a bright smile, and Stark... Well, the cold look I gave him didn't really called for a friendly gesture. He just nodded and left.

I felt warmer on the inside, warmer than those two past weeks. I was not alone. I had a family, right there.

Days went by, and then months. Training was tough, but I was getting better. I learnt how to shoot with a gun (although I hated it), with a bow (that was fun but I wasn't really good), and how to manipulate minds from afar. Moving objects with my thoughts was getting easier. I was getting along with everyone, and even if we would never be BFF, I sometimes had conversations with Tony. The Vision allowed my to see beautiful visions of the world through his mind. And we went a few times at Clint's house, where his wife, Laura, and the kids, Cooper, Lila and Nat (I was deeply moved that they gave him Pietro as a second name) treated me as a member of the family.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't the family I was born with, but they were good to me and I had a lot of fun. We even saved the world a couple of times within a year.

On Pietro's first anniversary of death, I went early on his grave. The graveyard was full of mist and the grass was wet. It was his favourite time of the day.

"Good morning, Pietro. Brought you some flowers. It's been a while since my last visit, sorry about that. Everyone says that I'm started to sound like you, I'm not sure that's a good think. But well, I guess I start to look like you, too..."

I chuckled, nervously braiding a strand of hair. Not a random strand, though. Six months ago, I bleached and dyed silver a strand at the base of my neck. It helped me finding peace with myself.

"Nathaniel is growing fast. Babies are weird. But he seems to enjoy playing with those silver hair. Laura is joking about how "Wanda" is going to be his first word..."

I stopped abruptly. I felt someone behind me. I heard that person coming, but now it was clear they were going to Pietro's tomb. I got up and look back. There was a bald man in a wheelchair. I couldn't explain why, but I didn't like him much. That is, until he started speaking.

"Good morning, Wanda. This might be a bit abrupt, but let me ask you something. If there was a way of going back in time and save your brother, would you do it?"

I thought for a second he was just a psycho. Until I noticed that although his voice had been really clear, he didn't move his lips. His voice was in my head.

"Fine, you've got all my attention."

Next chapter next week. Thank you for reading this far! Leave a review if you'd like, I read them all and usually reply!