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Onto the next chapter:
She didn't let them move the body.
The helicarrier did have a room solely devoted to the dead-those who had died from shrapnel wounds or had been killed before the transports arrived-but she wouldn't let them put Pietro in there, not yet. The Avengers hadn't been able to save everyone, but they'd prevented a lot of casualties. They'd basically saved the entire world-not just the little country of Sokovia. Wanda wondered what her parents would say to that, had she been able to tell them.
Of course, then she'd also have to tell them how she lost Pietro.
She stayed on the floor, back pressed against the wall, for almost an hour without moving. The doctors cleaned up-they disconnected the IV drip, wiped up all the blood that had pooled on the floor, and put away the AEDs-or given them to someone else who needed them.
Finally, one of the doctors sat down next to her so they could be on the same level. "Wanda, we have to give this room to someone who needs it." Namely, someone who is still alive. "We'll find you another room nearby."
"You won't take him away, will you?" Her voice felt thick and alien, even to her. It was hard to get the words out.
"Of course not. We'll bring him in directly." He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and helped her stand. Wanda had to force herself to stay upright; her legs kept cramping from lack of use.
The room they showed her to was large and extremely spacious. She had a nice view out of the helicarrier as it soared across tiny cities and wide expanses of water to reach its final destination-New York City. Ultron had been vanquished-killed by Vision just before the city blew up. At least Pietro's sacrifice hadn't been in vain.
He looked so calm and peaceful, almost as if he was just sleeping. If she blocked out all the dried blood, she could pretend they were in one of the numerous bombed out wrecks of houses they had taken shelter in over the years. She brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes almost out of reflex. This room had an actual upholstered chair that kept her level with the bed so she could see him clearly. She could look at him and imagine that things were well again.
But things were different now. The reality was that nothing was alright, and nothing would be alright for a long, long time.
Just then, the door opened and Clint walked in, holding two cups of coffee. "Hey." he said, handing her a cup and pulling up a chair next to her.
She nodded in acknowledgement and took a sip of her coffee. It was black and bitter but she forced it down anyway. "How is everyone else?"
"They're all unscathed. Except for Bruce…he broke connection with us just after Sokovia got vaporized. No one's heard from him since. Rumor has it he's in Fiji." He glanced at Pietro and looked away just as quickly. "How are you holding up-after everything?"
Wanda looked down into the coffee's murky depths, swirling it absentmindedly with a fingertip. "How should I be feeling? He was my brother. We've done everything together for as long as I can remember. And now he's gone to a place I can't follow."
He grimaced. "I'm sorry-"
"Don't apologize. What he did…he did for you and your family. He never regretted his decision, even at the end…and neither do I."
Clint pulled two pictures out of his wallet-a boy and a girl. "I'll tell them all about him-how he was truly a superhero, especially when it mattered most. He won't be forgotten. I can promise you that."
"Thank you." She looked at the pictures almost curiously. If Pietro had lived, he could have grown up, gotten married, and carried pictures of his own children in his wallet. She imagined barbecues on hot summer days, watching their kids play in the park together, staying up all night on New Year's Eve. She thought she might cry, although she didn't want to cry in front of someone else. She didn't want any more pity.
"Fury says we'll be landing in New York tomorrow morning. You're welcome to come to Avengers tower with us until you get back on your feet. Heaven knows you deserve it. And…you're always welcome to meet my kids sometime. That's Cooper, and that's Lila."
Wanda looked at them again. They both seemed happy and well fed. So different from how she and Pietro had grown up.
Some things were truly worth dying for.
"Thank you." she repeated. She didn't know what else to say, not when unshed tears had almost sealed her throat shut.
"Let us know if you need anything." Clint said after a while of silence. He got up and left, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Wanda realized she'd only gotten about five hours of sleep in almost two days. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of weariness and exhaustion, worn out from both fighting and grieving.
She slept with Pietro's limp hand cradled in her own.
The farthest Wanda had ever been outside Sokovia was a small beach cottage on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea her parents had rented for a few weeks when she was eight years old. She still had fond memories of it-of spending full days on the beach building sand castles with Pietro and playing in the crystal clear water. At night she'd been covered in sunburns and she'd constantly had to smooth a layer of aloe over her skin to keep it from hurting, but by the next morning she was ready to hit the beach again.
She'd heard talk of the United States for as long as she could remember-a country with a stable government whose citizens weren't all poor and impoverished. Her parents had always talked about moving someday, but they'd died while in the process of securing Visas. Pietro and Wanda had only been ten at the time and had known next to nothing about international travel.
And yet here they were, flying over the Manhattan skyline. The helicarrier dipped on an air current, lowering one wing as if to point out the Empire State Building sticking up like a needle below them. Wanda looked out the window with interest as she tried to finger comb her hair and drank some more coffee. Clint had stopped by again earlier that morning and given her another cup. He'd also told her to prepare herself-they'd be landing in about twenty minutes. She'd managed to sleep a little since the night before, but she still felt so tired she could barely stand.
"We're here." she whispered, so only her twin would be able to hear her. "Pietro, this is America-New York City, to be more specific. Isn't it amazing?" All those millions of New Yorkers going about their day without realizing that they had almost died-that her brother, Pietro Maximoff, had given his life in the fight to save them all. The city was so big that the entire country of Sokovia could have fit inside of it twice with plenty of room to spare.
This city of movers and shakers, of noise and color, was also to be her new home.
The media hadn't left the team alone since they'd gotten off the transport with the rest of the survivors.
"Tony!" a reporter called from the other side of the street. "Tony, how does it feel to know that your team saved the world yet again?"
"Smile!" another person cried. A camera went off with a flash that was so bright Wanda felt temporarily blinded.
"Where's Bruce?" called another reporter. He held up a microphone to Natasha, who brushed it aside in irritation. "Is he still hulking out?"
"Who's the new girl?" someone else asked. "Isn't she a little young to be an Avenger?"
"Keep your head down." Steve told her as they walked by. "Once they realize you aren't….what's the expression again? Oh, right…buying what they're selling, they tend to leave you alone. We try to stay off the radar as much as we can, but with something as big as what happened in Sokovia…well, naturally people talk."
Dutifully, Wanda kept her eyes trained on the carpet of dry leaves covering the sidewalk. Tony meanwhile was the life of the party, talking with anyone and everyone who would hand him a microphone.
Natasha glanced back and looked from Steve to her and back again, as if to ask him How's she doing?
Steve nodded once. Okay.
Clint turned down a narrow tree lined palisade that snaked between two buildings. The street was too narrow for them to be hounded by passerby. "Let's get shawarma." he said, pulling Tony unceremoniously away from a long and involved conversation with a reporter about the many, many, many technological advancements he was planning to make in the next seven months.
"Come on!" Tony huffed. "The cameras love me."
"You don't need your face plastered on ever cable news outlet."
"You're right. Just 99% of them. And all of the premium channels as well."
They turned in at the door to a slightly run down shawarma restaurant that was deserted except for a teenage boy who was sweeping the floor and blaring heavy metal music. When he saw them come in his jaw dropped. "You're the Avengers!" he cried.
"Yes, yes. Listen, it's been a really long day and we're just looking for something to eat." Clint said wearily. "If you could just make us some shawarma, that would be great."
"Of course." He hurried into the back of the restaurant to deliver their orders.
Wanda took a seat at a table tiled in red vinyl, fiddling with a corner of the upholstery that was torn and fraying. The other Avengers' conversation flowed over her. She briefly heard them talking about how Sam, James, and Vision had already reached the tower since they weren't as concerned with hogging the press as Tony was.
Just then, she realized Natasha had asked her a question. She looked up in surprise, the vinyl coming away in her fingertips. "Pardon?" she asked.
"What are you looking to do while you're here?" Natasha repeated patiently.
"The Met." It was the only thing she could think of offhand. Really, she couldn't care less about art or museums at the moment. She could already tell that she wouldn't fit in here-yet she couldn't help feeling that Pietro would have loved New York City. It was always busy and on the move-just like him.
Until the bullets had made him stop.
She ate her shawarma listlessly. Would the little things ever stop reminding her of the brother she had lost?
The way things were going, not any time soon.
They hadn't brought the body back to the tower.
Wanda's temperature regulation was off. She felt first hot, then cold, as if her body couldn't make up its mind about what to feel. She could only look at the Avengers' director, Nick Fury, and hope she had heard him wrong. "What?"
"Careful-she can lash out just a little bit when angered." Tony added.
"I'm sorry Wanda, but you can't live with the dead forever. Sooner or later, you'll have to return to the world of the living-and wasting away by Pietro's side is not the way to go. That's not what he would have wanted for you, and I think you know it." Fury said calmly. Nothing seemed to rattle him-he'd barely even flinched when a robot had almost vaporized everyone on the planet; this wasn't anywhere near the scope of that.
"Don't presume to think you know my brother better than I do." Wanda didn't know what infuriated her more-the fact that they were taking him away without her consent or the attitude they seemed to have adopted: that they knew more about Pietro than she did, when they'd barely known him for more than twenty four hours. It didn't seem fair.
But deep down inside, Wanda wondered if the fact of the matter was simply that he was right.
Quickly, she spun on her heel and left. Rage pulsed through her and she had to keep her mind focused acutely on her hands so no unnecessary power would spill out unchecked.
"That went well." she heard Tony say as she walked down one corridor after another. She didn't care what they thought of her. She just wanted to be alone.
She retreated to the bedroom she'd been assigned and slammed the door so hard it vibrated in its frame. Then she sat down on her bed so she could face the window and the glittering night outside. It was hard for her to focus…she paced back and forth nervously, feeling tightly wound. Now she knew how Pietro had felt during those years they'd spent in HYDRA's cages. The world was too slow, too deliberate. Pietro had run his life on impulse, willpower, and sheer dumb luck.
Wanda marveled that that wasn't a bad way to live-in and out with a flash. Except of course that he'd devastated those he'd left behind.
Namely, her.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door, which was still rattling from the force of her slamming it shut. "Wanda? Are you all right?" Steve asked.
She forced herself to keep her voice level. "I'm fine."
"Listen…the team is watching a movie if you want to-"
"No thank you."
She could hear him shifting from foot to foot, probably changing tactics. It didn't matter. She couldn't be swayed. Not from this. "I'm sorry about what happened. Maybe I can talk to Fury, work something out-"
Wanda was tired of people apologizing to her for things that weren't their fault in the first place, although the thought behind the words was sincere. "No, it's fine. I suppose he has a point. I should start to move on." Already, the empty feeling in her chest was beginning to feel like second nature.
"If you insist. We'll save some popcorn for you in case you change your mind." She heard his footsteps fading away down the corridor.
Wanda stared out at the night sky and tried to remember. She feared that if she didn't, she would forget what her brother had been like-how his blond hair had curled in feather soft wisps across his forehead, how he liked to make wishes on pennies whenever they passed outdoor fountains no matter how old he was, and how his touch could caress her and calm her down when nothing else would. She didn't have a single picture of him; HYDRA had taken all their personal belongings once they'd signed up. Even now, she had to think very hard to remember her mother's beautiful voice as she sang old show tunes as she cooked dinner or how her father's forehead had crinkled when he laughed.
"You were a hero, Pietro." she whispered as she lay down in the exact center of the bed that had been provided for her. She was still dressed in her clothes from the battle. They were covered in dust, grime, and her brother's blood-but she wasn't yet ready to change into something more comfortable. At least that blood was something of Pietro's-permanent and solid. But in time even then would fade-and then she would be left with nothing.
She couldn't face the thought of losing everything of his. It would be like losing him all over again-just less permanent.
She was sure no one could hear her; if anyone walked in on her she would know before they opened that door. And so Wanda let herself cry for the first time since the heart rate monitor had flat lined, until her pillow was soaked through and she felt so numb and hollow inside she couldn't feel a single thing-even grief.
Hope you enjoyed! I don't have this being a very long fic-just a segue into summer-so things should start having a few less feels next chapter.
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