Disclaimer: Marvel owns it all. I have nothing. Life sucks that way, eh?

She could feel it.

One moment his presence was nearly suffocating and in the next, it disappeared, becoming nothing more than a vague, irrelevant afterthought.

Wanda knew it was foolish to think that he was alive—that he had come back to her. Yet, she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of hope that swelled inside of her every time the feeling came.

It was unfair. What had she done to deserve this? To have her other half ripped away from her and to be forced to feel his presence. Was fate really this cruel?

The tears came, as they always did, leaving Wanda powerless against their release. She had always thought crying was for the weak, but now she knew it was for lost. For those who fate had damaged so much, that they didn't know how to go on in life. If they even could go on. She had even thought about it herself—ending it. Multiple times she had come close, but it was his presence that stopped her. It was as if he knew; and, in a way, she believed he did. Even in death, Pietro was here to protect her.

"Wanda." The voice was firm, yet delicate; she often wondered how he managed to make his voice flirt on the line between commanding and caring.

"Yes, Captain America?" She didn't bother turning around; she wouldn't allow him to see her so weak. She was an Avenger now—weakness would not be tolerated.

"I told you—call me Steve," he said, walking around to face her. The look on his face told her that he had saw; he had seen her momentary lapse in strength. "You've been crying." The statement was more of an observation than a question.

"So I have. What can I help you with?" The smile she gave was hardly worth the effort.

"You missed training this morning, and I was just checking to see if you were okay."

"I am fine, Captain America. I just…needed some time to think." The answer wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. He had already seen her cry; she wouldn't allow him to think of her as an idiot for thinking her brother was still alive. After all, they had all seen his corpse.

"Look, I know you are upset about your brothe-"

"Don't." She was surprised by the finality in her own voice.

Still, Steve was not so easily deterred. "We all have experienced loss. You don't have to talk to me, but at least talk to someone."

"Loss? You really think it as simple as me losing someone I love? When Pietro," she briefly stopped to wipe away another fallen tear, "died, I didn't just lose someone. My soul was ripped in half. What was whole was decimated—torn into shreds." She could feel her anger rising; the room hummed in resistance as her aura filled the small space.

Steve, for his part, was smart enough not to turn and flee. She would not scare him away so easily like she had the others. "Just remember: people are like muscles. Sometimes we have to be damaged so we can come back stronger." Quite poetic for the Captain, but he supposed it would do.

"But that's the thing—I'm not broken. I'm empty." As if her body could no longer support the array of overwhelming emotions, it released her power, exploding a nearby lamp. "And I will not rest until everyone feels just as empty as I am."

"Wanda," Steve started, trying his best not to shake some sense into the girl, "you can't just take your anger out on innocent people."

"And why not?"

"Because…it's not right."

Wanda let out a cruel laugh; it was almost agonizing to hear, full of so much pain and anger. "The world stopped being right when it took my brother away."

Wanda abruptly stood and attempted to push pass Steve, but he quickly grabbed her arm, a knowing look in his eye. "Then help us—help me—make it right again."

"I don't—ahh!" A sharp pain shot through Wanda's body and she fell to her knees. Her world went red; her mind became nothing more than a series of discerning images. Pain. She felt so much pain. Her body was on fire; it was as if she was being ripped apart molecule by molecule.

Then, as quickly as the pain had come, it stopped. Leaving nothing more than a broken, sobbing woman in its wake.

Steve was instantly at her side, his eyes scanning her form for any sign of physical damage. He let out a small sigh of relief when he was unable to detect any. "Wanda," he said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

No answer.

He called her name once more, this time adding: "Are you all right?"

She looked up at him, her eyes void of any emotion.

"Wanda, talk to me. What's going on?"

"He's alive."

"What?"

"Pietro is alive. And he's in trouble." With minimal effort, Wanda rose to her feet. With a wave of her hand, she sent Steve crashing into the wall with a resonant thud. Her brother was alive and she was going to find him.

She had to.

So, this is my first ever Avengers fan-fic; I hope you guys enjoyed it. The story seems very Wanda-centric at the moment, but I promise I will try to give all characters an equal role, or as equal as it is depicted in the films.