The stereotypic staple of being a twin was doing things together, Wanda thought, a wide smile gracing her face despite the incredibly taxing exertion of fighting Ultron's seemingly never-ending robot army packing her lithe body with aches. As she aimed her crimson blasts at the aggravating pieces of metal surrounding her, Wanda's thoughts strayed (as always) to Pietro.
Who would have thought that they would ever arrive at this moment? Where Tony Stark, and by extension the Avengers, was no longer the enemy. Nonetheless, it is tricky to think about because despite switching sides, Wanda still isn't quite sure how she feels about Stark.
She's hated that man for so long that it's weird to think about him without that negative emotion rearing its head and demanding blood and justice and his untimely demise. He may not be the enemy but Stark is nevertheless responsible for the creation of those terrible things that had taken her parents and had almost separated her and Pietro permanently. Whatever he is now, he is not an ally.
All those people that he had damned, without an ounce of consideration for the fates he had sealed with his stupid inventions. It seemed so reckless and unforgiveable, even for her. Wanda wasn't sure she could extend an olive branch or give Tony Stark another chance.
Pietro for sure wouldn't think about it, and Wanda gave a mental sigh at the thought of having to deal with an irritated Pietro for months to come, short-tempered and irritable, if they joined the Avengers and were in such close proximity to Stark.
Wanda slammed one of the robots into a pillar, watching warily as a cluster of robots started to creep a little farther in, slowly pushing her back and making it far too close for comfort. She danced around the enemy, entirely untouchable, sending her (she didn't really have a name for them yet) bolts and utterly decimating her opponents. Really, they should have been constructed better, Wanda reasoned, but ultimately it was to their advantage that they weren't.
Thinking of their construction brought her ponderings to Ultron. How could she have believed his lies? She was supposed to be the grounded one, the realistic one, the one who was able to discern rational from irrational and was able to see through all pretenses. Separating her emotions and making logical, common sense decisions was her strong suit. What did it say about her abilities that she wasn't even able to see how demented and twisted Ultron really was? He was worse than Stark. And she had helped create him!
The witch fought a shudder at the thought of falling for Ultron's manipulations, however subtle they were, and noticed at the corner of her eye a flash of metal. She twisted rapidly, taking aim and firing at the automaton attempting to sneak past her. The blast connected with the scrap of silver steel and tore into the machine's center, destroying it completely. There was another however that was quick to take its place, like a rubber band snapping back into place and Wanda had to physically shove away the pieces threatening to snatch and tear at her.
A sudden rush of endorphins and adrenaline filled Wanda with glee and she fought the uncharacteristic desire to squeal. She was riding a high and felt like she could take on the world. Which was exactly what was at stake, she reminded herself. Focus, focus, and tear down those scraps of oil and steel that threatened all that she held dear. Pietro and their home. The urge to protect reminded Wanda of all the practices she had endured with Pietro with Hydra and their frustration at not being able to realize their true potential. This is what they were meant to do. This is how she was going to achieve her highest potential.
Maybe Pietro won't be so unreceptive to the idea of joining the Avengers and fighting for a cause that was worthwhile. For the first time in months, Wanda was able to visualize the bigger picture: a future of fighting the Ultron's and Stark's of the world who were unable to comprehend their own evil. She could thoroughly picture her and Pietro fighting to ensure that no one would feel the same pain they had.
But how to convince Pietro? Perhaps Stark wouldn't even be working in their proximity. He lived in Los Angeles and New York so if they avoided those areas…? Wanda dodged a fist that whizzed just above her head, shifting at the last second before moving her knee upwards and…ouch. That hurt worse than working with the trainers, Wanda thought wryly, before straightening up and shoving her fist through the chest of her opponent, her discharge easily working through the metal before continuing onwards. She shook off the remaining metal and worked earnestly to attack groups with large blasts.
It's a good thing we had such long practices, Pietro, otherwise we wouldn't be able to hold off this long, Wanda contemplated sardonically, easily recalling how she had complained of tiredness and exhaustion after their Hydra sessions. It was great knowing that those long hours had paid off.
How much longer, Pietro? When will everything be put into—Wanda felt a sudden lurch and a feeling of dread entering her senses. Something was wrong. Something was so very, very wrong.
Wanda felt alone.
At first there was nothing but confusion…
Where was she? She was in the middle of a stone structure. Or was it cement? Did it matter?
What was she doing? ...She was moving…blasting…she was fighting. Did it matter?
Why? To save the world…. Did it matter?
What was wrong? Why was she suddenly so thrown off balance?
Something…something was missing. It was as if the steady, stable ground that had supported her from birth had been ripped from underneath her, tossing her into a whirlpool of darkness tugging her endlessly, tearing at her, pulling her every which way.
Where was Pietro? Where was her ground? Why hadn't he made it right?
Where was Pietro?
There was only darkness and Wanda was unable to help herself from curling in, wanting to make herself as small as possible because she wasn't safe anymore.
It took a while to realize she was screaming. Those were her vocal cords creating that wail shrieking through the city, expressing her agony. The blasts that erupted from her were nothing but self-defense. There was no more safety; it was all gone and Pietro wasn't here.
Wanda searched for the first time in her existence for her brother's life, the tiny yet priceless sign of his presence that had always been in the back of her head since she was born. She had always been able to track people this way; searching for one spark, that tiny little piece of mind in the innumerable sparks of the world. Pietro's wasn't one that she had ever needed to search for, ever, because it had always been intertwined with hers.
Where was it? Where was it? Wherewherewherewhere was it?!
Wanda jerked back to cold hard reality, sitting on a deep blue bedspread (like the last suit he wore) and stared blankly at the wall in front of her, the wall of her new home within one of the Avenger's bases. Despite her intense gaze, she wouldn't be able to describe anything about the wall itself, or anything about her new residence, her mind still picturing with perfect clarity the final moments she had of actually living.
Because she wasn't living now, nor would she want to. She really, really didn't want to. She just existed and filled the demands given to her by Captain America and her other superiors. They asked and she delivered exactly what they wanted.
It was all performed with exact precision, exactly as they asked. Jab. Jab. Uppercut. Dodge. It all became routine.
Pietro. He filled her thoughts only at the end of each day, when she was dismissed after her training. She would lie down or sit at a desk and stare blankly, thinking back to those final moments.
What could she have done? How could she have saved him? Maybe if she had insisted on staying together…or if she had discovered Ultron's plan sooner…of if she had Hawkeye stay with her…then the boy would have died, her mind informed her.
So? If she could exchange anyone, everyone, for Pietro she would.
But then her mind would return to the what-ifs and the maybes. Captain America, Steve, she corrected, had told her several times that it wasn't her fault, that there wasn't anything she could do but nonetheless each day without fail, Wanda would return to her position and remember.
Wondering wasn't going to get anything done, Wanda thought. She wanted to cry, to sob and let go of the internal agony that was burning her inside and making it so hard to breathe. But the pain meant it was real. This agony is my punishment for not being good enough and I will endure it, she concluded.
Her training sessions were getting better. It was probably because nothing they hit her with was able to even come close to this pain she felt on the inside, she retorted viciously. For the most part, the rest of the team had avoided talking to her much, probably thinking that she wasn't quite ready to interact yet with the rest of the world.
Wanda wondered if she would ever be ready. There was no question if the pain would ever go away; it never would. That was fact. But maybe it wouldn't hinder her from living. Wanda hated that it was a possibility but she hated even more that there was a miniscule, infinitely small piece of her that still hoped. She squashed the hope as violently as she could, preferring to return back to her constant painful bubble.
What if I join him? The thought came again. What if I join him?
Wanda considered the possibility of joining her brother (it wouldn't be too hard to do), however every time she seriously considered the idea, she wasn't able to go through with it.
Why?
Don't you dare, Pietro's angry growl would resonate through her mind. Don't you even dare think about those things!
But I miss you, Wanda's mind would whisper back, reaching out and straining to get even the tiniest bit of him back.
That's not good enough. You have to finish it, finish all the things we would have done together, Pietro's voice would respond. And his voice would make her swear to end things properly. Wanda swore and the voice would fade away, despite all attempts to make it appear again.
I'm going to finish things, Wanda would think, and then I'll join you. Wanda contemplated what finishing things would entail: would it mean the end of Hydra? The end of Stark Industries? The end of the creations like Ultron and Vision? Wanda was unable to come up with a straight answer. What would be enough?
Would the end of Hydra will be enough? Surely ensuring the end of the corrupt and evil organization that had given life to her and her brother would be enough. Wanda had given the complete and final list of remaining Hydra bases to her superiors (she had no memory of doing so but they said she had). Contrary to the Avengers' beliefs, there were a few more major bases that each also had their own experimentations and were carefully hidden away. Wanda's list gave very few clues about their whereabouts but it was enough to prove they existed. Like the one that had created the Winter Soldier, there were others that had managed to have some success in creating superbeings with skills that surpassed regular human abilities. The Avengers were tasked with completing their previous mission of shutting down all the bases.
Till the end of Hydra, Wanda decided. Then, and only then, will I join you Pietro, she decided. A sudden knock brought Wanda out of her silent reverie.
"Come in," she spoke, before the door revealed Captain America. Great, her mind supplied sarcastically to his appearance, another psych eval.
"Hey, Wanda," he started easily. "Have you thought some more about going to see Dr. Evans?" He had been trying to get her to go for the past several weeks (how long had it been exactly?), but was only starting to push in the past few days. He stayed silent, just watching for her reaction. Wanda nodded slowly, her eyes darting to her floor unable to meet his gaze.
Steve sighed before approaching her slightly and crouching in front of where she was seated, forcing her gaze to meet his.
"I'm so sorry that you're hurting," he said softly, "but it could help a little if you talked to someone. I won't push too hard but you won't be cleared for active duty until you go see him." Wanda's frustration rose quickly at his words—she wanted to yell at him in despair and aggravation at his butting in—but died soon after.
"Okay," she agreed softly. It was clear that Steve was struggling with something, maybe it was to push her farther but before he could make up his mind, Wanda reached out and placed a small hand on his shoulder. It was a surprisingly intimate gesture for someone who had reached out few times before. She uttered a small, "thank you." It seemed to clear any frustrations and Steve gave a small smile before nodding his assent and backing away.
"If you need anything," he said as he stood to leave but Wanda interrupted.
"I'll find someone," she promised. He gave another nod and left her to return to her wonderings.
How would she do it? He had been shot so many times, so maybe the standard gun to the head?
Get rid of all Hydra bases and then join Pietro, Wanda resolved.
Please wait for me.