Warnings/Tags - Major Character Death (Shocker, I know), Twincest.

Character Focus - Pietro Maximoff

To say Pietro didn't know why he was here would be a bit of a lie. Guilt, obligation, and so much more drove him to show up on the doorstep of the farm, hair far too long and shoulders hunching under the weight of the world. The battle for earth had been only six months ago, and Pietro hadn't slept, and had only eaten enough to keep him going. He had run from the moment his mind had settled after watching Wanda crumble away to dust, not even glancing at Natasha who had sat by his side silently supporting him for nearly three hours. Not a word was spoken, one moment he had been there, the next he had vanished, leaving behind a slight breeze and a wisp of blue energy.

He hadn't stopped running. Not until now.

He was here to say goodbye, in all honesty. To apologize to Laura for not being enough to save Clint a second time. For not being enough to save anyone.

And yet, here he stood for almost three quarters of an hour, the sun only just barely rising over the nearby horizon. Unable to bring himself to knock, to do much of anything.

He shouldn't be here. He didn't deserve to look her in the eyes when he dared to live while Clint didn't. It wasn't fair, it wasn't anything close to okay. He should really just g-

Pietro is pulled from his thoughts as the front door opens, and he's pelted with an armful of a giggling child. A small cry of joy is enough to let him know that it's Lila, and he's instantly pasting a large smile on his face, playful enough to fool a child but not enough to reach his eyes as he lifts her into the air with a gentle hug, resting her on his hip.

"Mommy! Petey's here!"

Lila shouts, and Pietro has to chuckle. The five year old hadn't quite figured out how to say his name yet, but she looked far too adorable to bother correcting her. Laura steps into the doorframe, a question on her lips that dies before she can ask it as her eyes meet Pietro's, and her gaze softens. Pietro's smile tightens, and he doesn't bother trying to stop the tears that start to gather in his eyes. Lila begins to wiggle in his arms, and he lets her down, the bundle of energy running back into the house like she had never been out in the first place. Laura steps out onto the porch, closing the door behind her as Pietro sags lightly, his eyes flitting away from her as he tries to mentally prepare himself for the rage, the anger that was likely to show itself. He deserved it, deserved all the hate that she could possibly give him.

He can feel her stepping closer to him, and he can't help the minute flinch, his body tensed like a coil wound too tight, ready to spring or crack with just a touch. She pauses, before continuing, and before he can register what's happening, her arms are around him and she's hugging him tightly enough that he can feel the breath leave his lungs.

"Thank god you're okay, Pietro."

Her voice is tired, but the note of relief in it is unmistakable for anything else. He remains unmoving for a moment, and as she begins to pull away his arms wrap around her as well, his eyes closing for a moment as he relaxes into the first touch he had felt since the battle.

"I'm sorry, Laura. I wasn't…I wasn't fast enough."

His words are broken and stuttered, his voice rough with disuse. She pulls back, and her hands cradle his face gently, brushing the long hair away from his eyes to look him in the eye.

"It wasn't your fault, Piet. We all lost that day. Clint knew what he was going into. He would have been there regardless."

His hands rise to lightly hold her wrists, but he makes no move to pull away, his blue eyes closing as he leans into her touch. He had come to say goodbye, but he had expected her to be angry, had expected the woman to scream and curse his name. It would have been nothing less than what he deserved. For the first time in a long time, Pietro allows himself to feel time properly, and without the sheer will to keep standing, his legs buckle out from under him, and he slips down to his knees.

"It's okay, Piet. It's okay."

Laura follows him down, and she continues holding him even as his shoulders shake, sobs crashing out of him as he finally allows himself to feel, to grieve everything that he had lost. Laura doesn't rush him, doesn't move him. She allows him to cry, and eventually when the tears subside, she helps him to his feet, and they enter the house.

"Your hair's awfully long, Piet. Why don't we give it a cut, hm? I hate not being able to see your eyes."

He allows himself to be lead through the house, and he can't help but wonder if he even deserved to be here.

Sometimes, Pietro would lose himself to his memories. Of course, seeing her turn to dust was a common one, but it wasn't the only memory to ever take over his mind. For that matter, there were a good number of memories that he still cherished. And they always seemed to strike at the strangest time. Once, Pietro had merely been walking down the street, snow falling around him. It had been a good two years since the Snap, since Wanda had left him alone, and he hadn't quite been as gone as he was now.

Somewhere deep down, he knew that he wasn't okay. That he wasn't mentally healthy. But he didn't see much of a point in trying to fix it. Why bother when Wanda wasn't there?

That implied that he was mentally healthy in the first place.

It had been the first winter after Wanda had graduated, and Novi Grad experienced a rather intense snowstorm, one of the worst they had had in a long while. Pietro had managed to get her home before the snow could get too bad, and had set the tea to boil while he had been gone.

"You know Pietro, one of these days you're going to burn the apartment down with your little habits."

Wanda had playfully teased him, and he had shrugged it off with a grin, a hand snaking around her waist, the other pulling the kettle off of the stove, leaving the burners on to help speed up the heating process of their apartment. Their shared bedroom wasn't the best insulated, so from what he could tell they'd likely spend the night together in the kitchen. Inconvenient, but overall not the worst thing that could possibly happen.

"Knowing my luck, you're probably right. Guess I'll have to be careful then. C'mere."

He speaks softly, tea kettle forgotten as his hands slip down to her hips, holding her close as he kisses her softly. She tasted as she always did, something so undeniably Wanda that he wanted to lose himself in her taste. She giggles quietly, leaning back to look up at his eyes with a sly grin.

"What's the matter Hummingbird? Did you miss me?"

He laughs, and presses a kiss to her forehead. Turning, he sets about finishing setting up the tea as Wanda tosses her bag on the nearby table, beginning to pull out a few various textbooks as well as notebooks.

"But of course Kokhana. I always miss you when you are gone."

And he had, and he did. It was one of the rougher parts of letting her go off to school for most of the day while he went and worked. Part of it made him antsy if he thought about it too hard, but that's why he avoided thinking about it. Besides, after the incident at her junior prom, Wanda had most definitely been left alone, considering her "date" (if he could be called that) had ended up beaten to death less than two days after the prom night. Some called her cursed, but a very select few knew better, had known about Wanda's rather overprotective brother, and knew that Borysko had deserved whatever he had gotten. The senior had had a habit of touching that which shouldn't be touched, and his other victims were more than happy to hear of his passing.

And if Wanda had noticed the deep bruising and split flesh on Pietro's knuckles the few days following, well she never mentioned it beyond taking the time to bandage them that first night.

"So, what's on the menu today? Biology or history?"

He calls softly, not looking up from the two mugs he was preparing. He hears nothing from behind him, and when he looks back, he has to raise an eyebrow. Sitting up on the table with a playful smile was Wanda, having shed her jacket and boots, one foot perched up on the back of a chair, the other dangling and swaying in the air as she leaned back, her hands propping her up. The positioning of her legs forces her skirt up to dangerous levels, nearly exposing her panties, but not quite. What a tease.

"I was thinking….anatomy?"

Her voice is low and husky, and he blinks, his smile growing as he tilts his head. He stalks forwards slowly, a hand reaching out to brush over her bare knee, fingertips drifting upwards over her inner thigh until he's standing between her legs. She lets out a small whimper, and he leans in, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear before a small gruff chuckle escapes from his lips. His free hand moves up over her side, his palm cupping her cheek before almost wrapping around her throat, gently tipping her head up and to the side.

"Homework first, Jackrabbit. You know the rules."

He speaks softly, smile growing smug as he backs away entirely, his free hand having snagged the nearest notebook as he steps back and away. Wanda pouts, (looking quite adorable, he might add) before sighing, her smile returning as she moves both legs to cross in front of her, no doubt flashing her brother as she picks up a textbook.

"History today. We started going over the diplomatic history between Sokovia and Latveria. Did you know Victor Von Doom has lead Latveria for nearly sixty years, and had been the lead promoter of Sokovia splitting from the Soviet Union back in '89? He was one of the people who supported us becoming an independent nation."

She says it all without looking up, and Pietro stops leafing through her notebook, instead watching her with a strange look on his face. It was a mixture of pride and amusement, and he found her utterly adorable whenever she would go on small moments of obsession with their country's history. Not that he could blame her-

And with that, his mind snaps back towards the present, and he has to wonder how long he had been slipping for. He wasn't any further down the street, and there wasn't anymore snow. Perhaps it had only been a second, maybe two?

Long enough and more.