TC Stark: Hello! Gosh, you have no idea how happy I am to continue seeing this story doing so well. I did put a lot into it and am quite proud of myself. And it's an artist's highest compliment to hear others speak so highly of it. Thank you again everyone and I hope you all have an absolutely amazing labor day weekend! By the way, things get...really sad here.

Disclaimer: If anyone has read my "Whatever Time We Have Left" story, I am reusing Tilda. I found with that story that I never developed her properly, so I'm revamping her - giving her a fresh coat of wax and throwing her into this story. Also, as much as I love the Cap, I've realized (in my head) she is much better suited in this AU, as this is a Pietro/OC story (with small parts of Cap/Black Widow because they're my OTP). This story is rated M for mature content, such as sex, violence, death, language, etc. I try not to ever be too vulgar, but also don't believe in censorship. This story deals with the serious issues of a fatal medical condition, so there's that. I do not own anyone, except Tilda and my ideas.

Chapter Thirteen

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do, so I sit down and I cry too. And don't let her see." - Her Diamonds, Rob Thomas.

It had started a couple of months from that day. Pietro had been watching cartoons, when he had heard a commotion in the bathroom. Tilda had lost her footing in the shower and fell, but that hadn't been the problem. She complained about her vertigo and when they had visited Bruce, he confirmed she had completely lost her vision in her left eye.

Tilda had thrown up the next morning and Pietro had been glad he had put a trash can besides his bed. The sounds of her dry heaving had woken him up and he gently held her orange hair back, putting it in a ponytail so no strands would get in the way. It reminded him as a young boy, he would help Wanda in the mornings. All the things a mother was supposed to do, even braiding.

After getting her a glass of water, Pietro put a straw in and held it for Tilda to take a sip. She was looking tired and hadn't eaten in a few days. Anything she tried to, she just threw back up. It may have been gross, but she was coughing up blood and her nosebleeds had gotten worse. She was falling apart and they both knew it, but he wouldn't leave her side. The captain already knew not to put him on any missions.

Once setting the half empty glass on the nightstand, Pietro slipped into the bed behind her and held her body against his. Tilda's breaths were labored, closing her eyes as she wheezed, "Why are you so good to me?"

Burying his nose in her hair, Pietro rocked her gently. Truthfully, he was scared. It felt like the incident with his parents all over again. Trapped. Waiting. Not knowing what was going to happen, but knowing it was going to be bad. All he could do was hold her close and try to tell her it would be okay, even if he knew it wouldn't.

Bringing her even more into his body, Pietro leaned in to whisper in her ear, "When you get better, I will take you to Sokovia."

Tilda felt tears in her eyes. Not because she knew that would never happen, but because Pietro was lying for the both of them. They needed to lie. And he was doing so well at it. He was putting on a strong face, just to make her feel better. Just to make sure her last memories, were good ones. No one knew what happened after death, but she hoped she remembered him and his kindness.

"Will you be up for that…?"

Chest tightening, Pietro nodded and lied more, "It is time. I cannot run anymore. Besides, how will we ever have nice life in Sokovia, if I cannot even go there?" Nuzzling her cheek, he assured her, "I will ask help from Clint to fix up house. It will be so nice for both of us. We can get dog, or cat. Whichever you prefer."

With a weak smile, Tilda answered, "I've never had a pet before."

"We could have both. I love animals," Stroking her cheek, he reached down to her stomach and palmed the tight skin, "And if you like, maybe one days we could have children of our own. It is up to you, but you would make beautiful mother."

Biting her lower lip, Tilda laced her fingers with his and tiredly sighed, "Maybe one day."

Tilda had been running a fever. They had slept all day. The only time either left the bed was to go use the restroom. Wanda could feel her brother's heart break. A single tear escaped her eye, as Vision wiped it away. They had had a meeting too, but neither Pietro nor the telekinetic showed up. Cap understood. He just tried to go on with business as usual, not exactly sure how to approach the situation.

Shifting in her spot, Tilda turned to Pietro and gently shook him. Quicksilver murmured under his breath, before waking up. She was trying hard to keep one eye shut, thinking she looked ridiculous. The other one wasn't much better, everything was blurred. Her throat felt dry and her stomach felt like needles were stabbing her insides.

"Pietro...p-please take me to Banner." Tilda painfully pleaded, reaching to hold her stomach.

Pietro frowned, but nodded. Scooping her up in his arms, he rushed to Bruce's lab. The doctor could see the urgency in the runner's eyes and instructed him where to put Tilda. He had already prepared a hospital bed and worked on hooking her up to monitors and sticking an IV in her arm.

"I'll just...leave you two, okay?" Bruce asked, "I'll be right here if you need me."

Pietro didn't say anything. All he did was bring a chair up to the side and take a hold of Tilda's hand. Bruce nodded to himself and walked away so to give them privacy. Everything was suddenly feeling so real and the Maximoff twin could feel tears welling in his eyes. Lady Death, please do not take her, he prayed.

"Pietro?"

Looking up, Pietro saw Tilda smiling at him while weakly squeezing his hand, "Thank you."

"Why are you thanking me, beruska?"

Tilda smiled, "You know why."

"I love you."

"I love you too…"

The two fell into silence, the gently monitor beeping in his ear. Pietro rested his cheek against her stomach, closing his eyes so to hear her breathing. He wanted so desperately to do something. To somehow find a way to extend her life, but even the thought of leaving made his heart ache.

With his eyes still closed, Pietro began to softly sing. While he did not think of himself as having a good voice, there were songs that every Sokovian knew. And there were songs that every Sokovian sang, no matter how bad they sounded. It was one of the things about living in a poor country, even on the sidewalk, people could be playing cards and declaring their patriotism through drunken song.

"What is that?" Tilda asked, the melody reaching her ears.

Picking up his head, Pietro looked at Tilda and explained, "It is Sokovian lullaby. I used to sing it to Wanda when we were children. Our father sang it to us. And his father sang it to him. I know I have bad voice."

Even though she could barely see, the agent opened her green eyes and smiled at him, "I think you have a nice voice. No one has ever sung me a lullaby before. Maybe I wouldn't make a good mother."

"You would make great mother," Pietro pulled his chair even closer, running his hand across her face, "You would know what child wanted. And I could teach you lullaby. And Sokovian, if you would like."

"It sounds better coming from you."

Smiling warmly, Pietro cooed, "They are just words."

With a tiny laugh, followed by a cough, Tilda arched her back and pointed out, "See? Sounds better coming from you."

Pietro eased her back into the bed, urging her not to overexert herself. Tilda seemed to fall into a slumber at his beckoning, seeing her chest gently rise up and down. Even though he would have liked to talk some more with her, he knew she was in pain. He was simply happy to be by her side in that moment.

"Pietro?" The Sokovian turned his head to see Wanda standing in front of him, tears in her eyes, "I felt your pain."

Finally allowing himself to sob, he welcomed his twin as she sat in his lap, holding him close so that he could cry on her shoulder. He held her tightly around the waist and felt sorrow overcoming it. It was nice having his other half by his side - no one else would understand his pain like she would. Even without powers, they were two sides of a coin and knew the other like they knew themselves.

Turning towards the sleeping woman, Wanda gently touched her hand to her forehead and told her brother, "She is at peace. She is not in pain right now."

"But, she will be. When she wakes up," Pietro held his head, "I do not want to lose her."

"Will you honor her final wish?"

Knowing she could see that in Tilda's head, Pietro nodded, "I will bury her in Sokovia. She will finally know home, even...even in death."

Wanda ran her fingers through Pietro's silver hair, it coming up from the dye. He hadn't bothered touching it up, as he had been too concerned with Tilda. As vibrant as her color was, she could see the light roots of blonde coming in. There had been once that the Sokovian had in fact helped the telekinetic - continuously shocking her with his generosity and understanding of her disease.

"You stay by her side," Wanda kissed Pietro's forehead, standing up while stroking his cheek, "I will be here for you...when…"

Numbly nodding, Pietro murmured, "I know."

Hours had passed. Tilda and gone in and out of consciousness and at that point, and Pietro had climbed onto the hospital bed with her. Her fever was high, her lips were drying. He had gotten ice chips for her, and ran the cool cubes across her forehead. All he could do was rock her back and forth, singing for her when her breathing became too labored.

Adjusting in his hold, Tilda held tightly onto Pietro's hand and whispered, "I want...I…"

"Yes, moya lyubov'?" Pietro asked, holding her closer.

A hard gulp slid down her throat, as Tilda attempted to say, "D-Dr….Dr. Shelley...she's still alive...she...H-Hydra...agent...you need to stop her work. S-Stygar...was only the face of the operation...S-Shelley...she wanted an army."

"Who is Dr. Shelley?"

Shaking, Tilda answered weakly, "M-Mom…"

Pietro frowned, as he pulled her closer. While he knew that Dr. Stygar had been the one on trial for the cruel behavior towards his daughter, it stood to reason that there had to be a mother. Yet, no one really knew of her involvement and he wanted to simply scream that there was someone still out there willing to treat children the way Tilda was treated.

And that was when the sounds of Tilda flatlining perked Pietro's ears. Jumping up, his eyes dashed between the monitor and the female agent. Feeling panic plaguing his heart, he screamed desperately, "Banner!"

Bruce dashed in, urging Pietro to get off of the bed so he could properly help out. Quicksilver felt useless, grabbing at his hair while pacing back and forth. The doctor was rushing to get the defibrillator, powering it on before pressing it to Tilda's chest. He held his mouth, tears in his eyes, helpless as he watched the doctor attempt to save his girlfriend.

"Save her!" Pietro desperately shouted.

To which Bruce shouted back, "I'm trying!"

Another shock. Another. Another. Pietro watched Tilda's body jump every time the defibrillator was pressed down upon her. That damn flatlining. He wanted to take that machine and throw it out of the damn window. It wasn't doing them any good - she needed to make it. She needed to live.

Bruce gasped and panted, his hair falling in front of his face as he stood up. Pietro was staring at him wildly, as if asking why he stopped. With a frown, the scientist gulped, "I'm sorry, Pietro. She's gone."