Her room was dark, the curtains all drawn. It was in stark contrast to how it was before, with the last girl in the Brotherhood.

*Man, I might have hated it then, but now, I actually miss the Goth girl!* Pietro thought, standing outside Wanda's room. *And Wanda's not exactly who I'm talking about...*

"Wanda?" Pietro stuck his head in her room.

"Get out." A very angry voice growled dangerously in the darkness.

"Wanda, I-"

"You WHAT, Pietro?" Wanda came out of the dark, seemingly from out of nowhere, and glared at him. Her dark green eyes, so much like their late mother's, burned with hatred, but also mingled with hurt. "Save your breath, Pietro, because you *don't* have anything to say to me, and I don't have anything to say to you. Not anymore." Her voice was harsh.

"Would you just listen to me?" Pietro insisted. "Look, I didn't mean to leave you! I didn't WANT to leave you, Wanda! But- well..." he sighed. "Father said that you were not stable with your powers or your temper back then, and well-"

"That's why you abandoned me, did you?" Wanda said coldly.

"I didn't have much of a choice!" The speed demon cried, exasperated. "I-I don't know, I guess I was afraid. Of you, mainly." Pietro gave a short laugh, an enbittered laugh. "You know what Father told me that night?"

"Your Father, Pietro! Not mine! He never was and never will be!"

"OUR father, Wanda!" Pietro insisted. "You can't run from the past forever, no matter how much you want to!"

"Watch me!"

Pietro took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was widen the already hopeless gap between himself and Wanda by having a stupid argument. He looked determiningly at his sister, who avoided his eyes. "Wanda- Wanda, look at me. Wanda, please?"

Wanda sighed, then raised her eyes slightly to gaze coolly at Pietro. "Your power is *speed*, isn't it?" she asked in a mocking tone. "Whatever you have to say, you'd better say it fast, brother dear, and then *get out*."

Pietro blinked. *Okay... maybe not the best response she could have given me, but still, at least she'll let me talk..* "Like I said, I guess I was a little afraid of you. But.. also of Fa- uh.. Magneto. You know what he told me?" Pietro took his sister's silence for a 'what?', so he continued on. "He said, 'Let what should happen happen, my son. And I do hope you're not trying to contradict me.' in this really cold tone when I tried to argue." He looked down at the floor. "I dunno... I guess I was afraid he'd disown me or something. Hit me. Throw me to a pack of cheetahs and see who won. I mean, c'mon! I was just a stupid little kid, what was I SUPPOSED to think?"

There was a long very uncomfortable silence in the room after Pietro finished. Wanda stared at him, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth or not. "That's not what he told me," she whispered, with a note of lingering suspicion in her voice. "He told me that you agreed to go with him, choose his side over mine that night, on your own free will."

Pietro stared at Wanda, and cursed under his breath. "That's bull-" he sputtered. "I swear I *never* said that!" His blue eyes flashed. "When'd he tell you that?" he demanded.

"The first time he remembered to come visit me," Wanda said bitterly. "Yeah, like about what? A year later?" She looked at her brother closely. "You never said that?" she said at last.

"No!"

Wanda's head was whirling. She didn't know whose words to trust. If the circumstances had been different, she would have trusted Pietro any day. But Wanda couldn't shake the image of Magneto and Pietro standing there in the rain that dark night all those miserable years ago. She wanted to believe him, would give anything to be able to believe him again. But she just couldn't... Could she? On one hand, Wanda *hated* Pietro with a bloody passion, for not stopping Magneto from putting her in a hell-hole for all these years. But... is it really possible to *hate* your soul's other half? Truly *hate* it?

"And you- Where were you up until now?" Wanda asked quietly, traces of her former hostility gone. Pietro took that as a good sign. He shrugged.

"Moved from place to place. After you were gone, I stayed with Father for a little while longer. Mom died during that time..." Pietro bit his lip. "Father... he- he never was really a dad to me either. Kept being out all the time, leaving me alone at home, sometimes for days at a time. I think the longest was a week. His excuse was always the same. Something about important stuff to do. Anyways, I finally got fed up with it and bolted. Originally, before I left, I was gonna come for you, but I thought that plan was screwed 'cause Dad told me you'd died."

"He WHAT?!" Wanda shouted. The lightbulb in the room did explode this time, with a loud resounding POP! Now, it was Wanda's turn to force herself to calm down. "Sorry," she muttered. "Then what?"

"I had to take his word for it. I mean, it was the old man's word against mine, and I was what? Eleven?"

"So that's why you never came for me..." Wanda said in a whisper, finishing Pietro's words and thoughts for him. "I waited for you, Pietro. I waited for you for as long as I could, kept up the frugal hope that one day, you'd find a way to bust me out of that place. You always were the creative one, the daring one. But endless days in that asylum, endless tests, endless therapy, endless research, and then more tests, I guess... it broke me."

"Heart?"

Wanda gave Pietro a quizzical look. "Heart what?"

"Broken heart?"

Comprehension dawned in the girl's eyes and she snorted, and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But it's no big deal."

From his jean pocket, Pietro dug around for a little while, obviously trying to find something. "I know it's around here somewhere.." he muttered. "Aha! Voila!" he grinned, pulling out a very old looking piece of something, holding it out in his hands. It was a Band-Aid, still wrapped in its paper covering. It looked about five years old, at least. Wanda gaped at it. "Is that a Band-Aid?" she asked.

"For your broken heart, sis," Pietro said quietly, offering it to her. "I packed it when I was just leaving Dad's place, you know, when I was eleven, and I meant to give it to you when I came and picked you up at the asylum. But then Father told me that you'd died, and I- well... I've kept it in my pockets ever since. So, you know, so you could be "in" me for the rest of my life, and I'd have a part of you with me, even though you'd 'died'." Pietro cocked his head to one side and studied Wanda. "But I'm glad you didn't though."

"I'm glad I didn't either," Wanda said, a little first genuine smile appearing on her face. There was a pause, then she threw her arms around Pietro's neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that again." she said. "I was afraid I'd never be able to again, that my anger and hatred over the years would permanently block you off." Wanda looked at the old and worn Band-Aid in her hands. "But I was wrong, I guess. Thanks for caring." she said softly.

"Hey, that's what twins are for, right?" Pietro said brightly. "Anytime Wand, anytime."