Unknown:

I was told once: nothing every dies. Everything is always in our hearts, and if it can be remembered, it can come back. But now I can say: How much of an idiot did I have to be to believe that? Everything dies one day, but it's completely normal. It's life. Just life. And to be honest, in my eyes, life is one of the most brutal and most horrible things I have ever seen.

You have your time. You never know how much. It could be a month, few of them, maybe years, and sometimes-well, mostly-there are many, many years. Yet...you can't do everything you want to do. One thing's for sure, though. We don't have forever. None of us do.

You make plans that might never done, dreaming of better days, but c'mon, look the truth in the eyes. It won't come. Your life is already planned from the very beginning.

Now, let's start the story, shall we?

Wanda Maximoff:

The frigid wind blew in my face, my dark hair whipping around me. The bitter cold cut through my dark gray hoodie, making me feel numb. Numb. If only I could feel like this all the time, or rather, not feel. Anything but the emptiness that sometimes threatened to swallow me, drag me deep inside myself.

I sat on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the city, the moon peeking through the clouds swirling in the inky sky as I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. A sigh escaped my lips, a cloud of foggy mist rising from my breath.

Rose kept encouraging me to get out of the apartment more, but I didn't like being outside so much. Not anymore. I'd say it's been a year since the "Civil War" between the Avengers as everyone's calling it now, and two since Pietro's been gone.

The mere memory of his name caused a lump in my throat. I missed him. No matter how annoying he could be, for the longest, he was all I had. And now he's dead. It's been two years, and I should be over it...but I'm not. I don't think I'll ever be, knowing my other half is gone forever. No matter how hard I've tried to let go of my old life, it continued to haunt me.

Ever since the fight with Stark and we escaped from the raft, I went my separate way. I still worry the government will find me again, and put me back in that straitjacket with that shock collar around my neck.

Thinking about it made me instinctively touch my neck, remembering how the collar had been so tight it restricted my breathing. Or how many times I felt excruciating pain because of that collar. Steve says it was because they're afraid of me. They're right to be afraid. With all I can do, even I'm afraid of me sometimes.

The constant pain and the constant fear back on the Raft made it worse. Nowadays, I try to keep my distance with people as much as I can. Rose is about the only person I do interact with, unless you count her friend Aaron who sometimes sleeps on the couch. They managed to become the only friends I had out here. Both kept encouraging me to go outside every once in a while.

Thankfully, not many people come up here often. Sometimes, I love looking up at the stars at night, wondering what else could be out there. Looking up at the sky, it reminds me of how little we know about our universe, about how little is already explored. Yet it scared me.

It was just a feeling, but something told me that tonight would be a good night for stargazing. A small voice in the back of my head that told me something was going to happen tonight. I don't know why, but I trusted it. If it hadn't been wrong before every time it hinted I was making the right decision, why would it now? Even before the experiments, my instincts had almost always been right, so I had no reason to doubt it.

Getting up, I swiftly climbed down the side of the building using a rusted fire escape, and stepped onto a dark side street. With a small sigh, I put my hands in my pockets, and made my way down the cracked sidewalk, being careful to avoid stepping in the dim halos of light illuminated from the street lamps.

The neon sign of O'Leery's Bar greeted me, the blinking leprechaun lifting its arm repeatedly, drinking a mug of beer. I entered through the front door, stopping to look for Rose who would be getting off her shift in a few minutes. The girls working here all looked the same to me, though. Waitresses all dressed in a white blouse, black vest, high shorts, and fishnet tights, with various levels of skin showing through their uniforms, scurried about the pub, serving drinks or taking orders. Despite Rose's explanations I never understood why the owner made them wear such provocative uniforms.

Hazy smoke filled the bar, the dingy lighting making the whole room seem dim. The TV droned on in the background, set on the news. There were only about ten or fifteen customers in the bar, which Rose told me is the usual for a Wednesday night. Most of them wore unbuttoned work shirts, ties loose and hanging off their neck, presumably just having gotten off their job for the day.

Just as I was about to leave, my anxiety spiking among all these people, I saw Rose's familiar head of black hair with purple steaks. She grabbed her jacket and her messenger bag, and started toward the door when she noticed me. She was still in uniform, but unlike the other girls, she was easy to spot with her black nail polish, black eyeliner, and the ring in her left eyebrow. Well, that and her black leather fingerless gloves with the words "Fuck off" on each in bold letters. You can rest assure none of the other waitresses wore those during their shift.

"Red?" She came toward me, and grabbed my upper arm, turning me around to walk with her. "Nice to see you're finally out of the house, but I don't think tonight's a good night," she said in a hushed tone. Together, with her grip gentle but firm on my arm like I was going to run off at any moment, we walked out the door and into the night.

I gave her a questioning look. "Your face was on the news again today," she sighed, her Brooklyn accent heavy on her tongue. "They were talking about how they had yet to find Captain America's side of the Avengers. The men were all drunk, and could barely tell their left from their right, but I don't like to take any chances."

My eyes widened, and her grip tightened slightly. "No more running off," she hissed. "I worry about you these days."

At those last words, I looked down at my feet. I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty that it was my fault to put her through this. My fault she now had to work twice as hard since she'd taken me in. My fault that she was in danger. I'm not sure if she even knows how much trouble she'll be in if the government ever find out she's been housing me, a fugitive.

"Come on," she said, turning down an alley. "It's a shortcut-"

"Rosie!" a voice from behind us chuckled. She flinched, and let go of my arm before turning around. "How you been? Who's your friend?"

"None of your business, Tyrese," she snapped, folding her arms. Nervously, I turned to see a man standing at the entrance.

"Really? 'Cause she looks an awful lot like that chick on the news," he said. "What was her name again? The Scarlet Witch, right?"

"I don't have time for this," she huffed, grabbing my arm again, though this time, the pressure on my arm was harsher than last time. There was an urgent gleam in her eye that she kept well-hidden from most people, but never from me.

"There's a reward if they turn her in, you know," he stated lightly. "Maybe we could split it, 50/50?"

"Obviously all that alcohol's gone to your head," she snorted, whipping around to face him. "I should know. I served you every one of those drinks." She gestured to me. "This is Louise. My girlfriend, in case you were getting any ideas."

"The thoughts I have are concerning the police station. Why don't we hear it from the dame herself?" he asked suspiciously.

"She's mute," Rose snarled. "She'd rather not be reminded of that."

I took a shaky breath, hoping no one could hear my heart beating loudly in my chest. "And look what you've done! You've scared the poor girl out of her mind!" Rose snapped, gesturing to me again. "She's always been paranoid about going outside. I finally convinced her to face her fears, and now you've ruined it!" I have to admit, she's a good actor. "She's probably never going to want to go outside again!"

"Hey, my bad," he shrugged, raising his hands in surrender.

Without saying anything back, Rose turned around and led me back down the alley. Under her breath, she mumbled, "If things go south, take a left at the trash can and run."

I nodded right before I heard the same man from just a few seconds ago yell out, "Liar!" She shoved me forward. With a quick glance back at her, I followed her instructions, and ran.

"You can't escape justice!" he shouted.

"Just like you can't escape a broken nose!" Rose yelled back, followed by a thud. Then a loud clang and another thud. After a few seconds, it went silent. I stopped for a second, and just stood there in the middle of the alleyway. What if something happened to her?

As if on cue, she came walking around the corner, checking her nails. There was blood on her knuckles, and she was frowning. "I thought I told you to run," she chuckled once she saw me standing there. I didn't say anything. She frowned at her nails again. "That idiot made me break a nail," she grumbled. A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth.

"She can smile! Come on, you," she sighed. "You'll be the death of me." She put an arm around my shoulders, and pulled me close before ruffling up my hair. For a split second, my mind flashed back to Pietro, and I tried to push back the wave of nostalgia that hit me. She wasn't him, yet she reminded me of him, and I think they'd get along pretty well.

We walked through the alley until we reached our apartment building. Rose let go, and jumped up to pull down the fire escape ladder. After the second try, she got it, and waited for me to climb up. Right before I could grasp the metal, a blur from somewhere behind Rose caught my attention. It was there one second and gone the next.

I've seen that happen before.

"Red?" asked Rose, turning to see where my eyes had wandered. I didn't answer. My attention was focused elsewhere. I walked past her, slowly approaching where I'd seen the silver blur. It was stupid to hope, I know, but...maybe-

Any thought I had came to an abrupt stop as something ran into me with such force that I flew back, and my head slammed onto the pavement. Pain exploded in my head and I saw stars. All sounds sounded muffled in the background, like someone had thrown a blanket over it. My vision blurred, but I thought I saw someone standing over me with silver-colored hair and a face filled with concern.

"Pietro?" I mumbled out, my voice sounding weak and hoarse after a year without use. Then everything faded away into darkness.

(Author's note: Yay! Second chapter! It probably sucks, but hey, I tried! Until later! ?)