AN: This chapter takes place maybe a few weeks after the events of AoU.

Tags: Grief. Loss. Hurt/Comfort. Depression. Tears. A little bit of the pairing ScarletVision (that's their pairing name, right?). Maybe a tiny bit of humor courtesy of members of the team who are not Wanda.

AU II: Cold and Dead Inside (without you)

Wanda's heart was still beating, but it felt cold, dead. She was existing but she wasn't living.

She wasn't alive, not really.

But the advantage to that? If she wasn't alive, then she couldn't fear death. (She knew what it felt like to die. People fear death because they fear the unknown. Death was no longer unknown to her.)

She couldn't fear injury, fear pain. (She was well acquainted with pain, with hurting. She didn't fear pain because she knew it. She didn't fear pain, because what could it do to her? Kill her? All pain either went away eventually or resulted in death, and she didn't fear Death.)

She couldn't give a damn whether people loved her or hated her or didn't give a damn about her. (The only person who mattered to her was gone. Nobody else mattered, and therefore nothing they thought or felt about her mattered.)

She decided to join the Avengers, become an Avenger In Training. There was nothing else she could do with her life.

She hadn't been able to save her brother, but if she became an Avenger, she could save other lives, maybe keep the loved ones of the people whose lives she would save from becoming as dead as her. She could save more lives than just the lives that she saved.

Yes, she would become an Avenger. Her brother would have wanted her too—he would have wanted to become an Avenger.

She could feel it during that battle against Ultron, how much Pietro had been enjoying fighting the robots, enjoying saving the civilians. He was born to be a hero, she thought. He always was a hero—her hero.

She wanted to become a hero for him.

He was always so alive. She wanted to live for him, but she couldn't feel anything anymore, just grim determination. She wanted to be an Avenger.

She scared people, she knew this, could feel it in the minds around her. Her fellow Avengers in Training—War Machine, Falcon, the newly named Vision—when they would balk at a particularly tough training session, she would step right in, hands and eyes blazing scarlet.

"Boys," Wanda would mutter under her breath with a shake of her head as she manipulated the energy around her, because that one word was so much easier to say than the more accurate: "People who fear because they don't know what it feels like to die."

She didn't fear anymore—for what was fear? She couldn't fear because there was nothing she was afraid of losing, for she had nothing left to lose.

When she'd lost Pietro, she'd lost everything. She'd lost herself.

She wasn't Wanda anymore, not really. Now? She was the Scarlet Witch.

The Scarlet Witch.

She hadn't come up with the name—that had been the Falcon, after a particularly grueling training exercise that left Falcon panting and lying on the floor.

"Man, gimme a break, I'm like the only regular guy on this team!" he'd complained, even while grinning. "I mean, I'm training with a synthezoid," he nodded at Vision, who was standing there calmly, not even breathing hard, "a guy in a full-body metal suit," he nodded at War Machine, who, if he was tired at all, it was impossible to tell because his faceplate was down, and if his muscles were trembling, well, then the suit was holding him up, "and Wanda," he'd finished, waving a tired hand at the Enhanced, who was standing there with clenched fists and dark-rimmed scarlet eyes. "And she's, like, some kinda scarlet witch or somethin'!"

The Scarlet Witch impressed people, she knew this, could feel it in the minds around her. When she sparred with the Black Widow—that woman scared the shit out of the boys, as well she should—she would pull all the magic tricks she knew, sometimes make up new ones, but eventually the Black Widow would strike her down.

"You're good," the Black Widow said, once, holding out a hand to help her up.

The Scarlet Witch sent a scarlet blast of energy at her, and the Black Widow flipped out of the way, impressed that Wanda hadn't fallen into her trap.

"You're better," the Scarlet Witch had said coolly, and the Black Widow had smirked.

"You show promise, Wanda," the Black Widow had said. "You'll get there."

Yes, she would get there. She'd get there for Pietro, who never would, who had always believed in her.

"See that, boys?" the Black Widow said, looking at the other Avengers In Training who were sitting watching on the sidelines as she gestured a thumb at the Scarlet Witch. "Wanda knows what she's doing."

"What, you mean complimenting you?" Rhodey asked dubiously. "Is that supposed to get us in your favor and convince you to catch us a break?"

"Please, your highness, who is so much better at fighting than any of us," Sam said to the Black Widow as he sat slumped against the wall, "don't make us do any more push-ups today!"

"Very well," the Black Widow consented, a stray glint of humor in her eyes, quirking a corner of her lips, "you can do fifty more pull-ups instead."

"Look what you did," Rhodey accused.

Sam groaned. "Rogers!" he called, as Captain America entered the room. "Steve, man, put an end to this tyrant's regime!"

"Fifty more pull-ups, soldier!" Captain America called from across the training room, amusement evident in his voice.

Sam groaned, slowly pushing himself to his feet and trudging over to the push-up bar. "What kinda friend are you, man?" he said to Steve.

"Believe me," Steve grinned, "I only do this because I care about you."

"Yeah? Then do you care about him?" Sam said, gesturing over at Rhodey, who was still on the other side of the room, watching the Scarlet Witch and the Black Widow had started sparring again.

"Rhodes!" Steve barked.

Rhodey's head snapped up to look at him.

Steve pointed to the pull-up bar. "Fifty more pull-ups for you, too!"

Grumbling under his breath, Rhodey jogged over to join Sam on the pull-up bar.

Steve looked at Vision.

"All due respect, sir," Vision said politely, "you know doing fifty push-ups will not in the least effect me."

"Make him! Bench-press! The two-ton! Weight again!" Sam huffed out between pull-ups. "Or something!"

"That likewise would hardly affect me," Vision said as he glided over. "I can alter the density of my body to give myself strength enough to lift up to fifty tons*."

There was a thump from the center of the room as the Black Widow tossed the Scarlet Witch down onto the mat, getting on top of her to hold her arms above her head.

"Give up?" the Black Widow smirked.

"Avengers don't give up," the Scarlet Witch said, practically sneering. The Black Widow had pinned her arms, but not her hands, and with a wiggle of her fingers, she sent the Black Widow flying back.

The Scarlet Witch got quickly to her feet and took a fighting stance, meeting the Black Widow's strangely empty gaze. She'd seen the Black Widow's past, experienced the darkest and most chilling of Natasha's memories; she wondered idly who between the two of them was more empty, now, more cold.

"Come at me again," the Scarlet Witch said, and the Black Widow had been all too pleased to comply.

"Twenty-seven!" Sam said as he did another pull-up.

"Stop counting aloud, you're throwing me off!" Rhodey shot back.

"Twenty-eight!"

"Dammit," Rhodey cursed. "What am I on now? Twenty-two?"

"Twenty-nine!"

"Sam, I swear—!"

"Don't worry about it, man," Sam huffed, as the two of them raised themselves up to the bar, then lowered themselves, completely out of sync. "You can always start over from zero!"

The Black Widow's lips were quirking in amusement at them even as she sparred with Wanda, dodging the scarlet blasts of energy with spidery preciseness and finesse.

The Scarlet Witch's faced showed nothing but tense concentration.

The Vision and Steve watched the two women spar.

"I worry for Wanda," Vision admitted quietly. "She hasn't been the same since..."

"She'll never be the same," Steve murmured. "Losing someone that close to you? Someone who's been your closest friend since childhood?" He looked down, and if he'd been wearing jeans, he would have shoved his hands into his pockets—but, as it was, he was wearing his Captain America suit, and could only hitch his fingers on his belt. "It kills you inside."

Vision looked over at him. "You speak of Bucky," he said, more a statement than a question.

Steve's answer was to remain silent.

"I take it Sam couldn't find anything and ran out of leads," Vision said.

"He just..." Steve took a deep breath that shuddered slightly. "Disappeared." His voice was not much more than a murmur. "Like a ghost."

"Would you like me to look?" Vision offered. "I can check the internet and satellite feeds for any traces of his whereabouts."

"No, it's fine," Steve said, looking at him with a sad smile. "Bucky's not gonna be found till he wants to be. And besides," he pointed out, "you need to focus on your training."

Vision quirked a brow. "Which is what, exactly, at the moment?"

"At the moment?" Steve said, grinning as he took a step away, fluidly removing the shield from his back. His smile became less sad, more genuine. "Sparring with me."

"Fifty!" Sam called, letting go of the bar and collapsing down to the ground, breathing hard.

"Forty-something!" Rhodey called, still doing pull-ups, having started after the Falcon. "Forty-something-else!" Another pull-up. "Forty—aw, you know what?" he let go of the bar, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. "Let's just assume that I've done fifty. I mean, it's not like anybody else was counting."

"You only did forty-nine, man," Sam said with a grin.

"Shut up," Rhodey said in annoyance as he sat down next to the other man to watch the two sparring pairs.

"Sam! Rhodes!" Steve called, even as he blocked an attack from the Vision. "Get off your rears and start sparring with each other! There's no time to be lazy!"

"Did Cap just tell us to get off our asses?" Rhodey asked, turning to look at Sam with a raised brow.

"Language!" Sam chastised with a laugh.

"That was an order!" Steve barked at them.

Chuckling, both men stood up.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Sam asked.

"That we go get our suits and take our sparring session outside?" Rhodey said.

Sam grinned. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Rhodey nodded, and both men turned and left the room, joking as they went.

Wanda was not actively listening to the conversations of the others, but subconsciously she was reading them. She knew that Captain America understood her loss. She knew that Vision was concerned. She knew that Falcon and War Machine did not mind the Avenger training as much as the amount they complained would suggest. She knew that they were both looking forward just now to taking to the sky. She knew that Captain American enjoyed sparring with Vision because he didn't have to pull his punches. She knew that Vision considered sparring with Captain America to be a satisfying challenge. She knew that Black Widow felt triumph as she knocked Wanda to the ground again, this time making sure to hold her hands down so she couldn't work her magic.

They were both breathing hard.

"You're done for the day," the Black Widow said, getting off her and standing up, turning away. "Take a break."

"A break to do what?" Wanda said as she stood up, feeling irritated. She was tired, yes, and probably wouldn't last more than a minute against the Black Widow were they to spar again, but she did not want to take a break.

Breaks meant doing nothing. Doing nothing meant thinking. Thinking meant missing Pietro. Missing Pietro meant aching till she went numb. Going numb meant feeling cold. Feeling cold reminded her huddling in the dark underneath a bed, holding onto her brother and praying they wouldn't die. Feeling cold reminded her of huddling against the wall of a cell while Pietro leaned against the other time, wishing she could hold him. Feeling cold reminded her of what it felt like to die. Feeling cold reminded her that she wasn't alive. Realizing that she wasn't alive made her think about why she was dead. Which meant would be thinking about Pietro again.

She didn't want to think about Pietro right then. It hurt. She was always thinking about Pietro. She always hurt.

"To relax," the Black Widow shrugged. "Go grab some popcorn and return to watch Steve and Vision beat each other up. Or take it outside to watch Sam and Rhodes do their aerial acrobatics."

Wanda frowned slightly. "I do not like popcorn."

"Then don't grab popcorn," the Black Widow said. Her face was expressionless, but Wanda could feel that she was amused and slightly exasperated. "Eat something else."

"Your American food is strange," Wanda said flatly.

"Then don't eat American food," the Black Widow said coolly, but she empathized. "You could try Indian food. Italian. Thai. Chinese. Japanese. Mexican."

"I'll consider it," Wanda said, feeling suddenly exhausted. She turned and left the room.

She found an apple in the kitchen, climbed up to the roof of the building, sat there with the smooth apple in her hands as she watched Falcon and War Machine swoop through the air high above her.

After a while, craning her neck back like that hurt, so she looked down at the scarlet apple in her hands, tracing her fingers over the vibrant skin, before lifting it up to take a bite. It was strangely flavorless.

She felt the Vision's mind before she heard his footsteps.

He sat down next to her, crossing his legs. He watched Falcon and War Machine for a few minutes.

Wanda stared down at the apple in her hands, with the single bite taken from it, the inside flesh of the apple strangely pale in comparison with the deep red skin.

Vision's mind was a golden with deep thought. His very nature was so good, so pure. There was not a malign bone in his synthetic body, not an angry or bitter thought in his A.I. mind.

So different from Ultron.

They sat in silence for a while. It was comfortable, mostly. As comfortable as one could be while sitting next to someone who was concerned for you and wanted to help but didn't know how to. Someone who did not understand the concept of loss. Someone who thought that everyone and everything had beauty.

He thought she was beautiful.

Many people did—she was used to those kinds of thoughts. But Vision was different from most. He did not lust after her beauty. He did not look at her and think about fucking her. He looked at her like one might look at a beautiful sunrise, with reverence and awe.

He looked at her a lot like Pietro had, with a certain softness, except that while Pietro's love for her was purely platonic and brotherly, Vision couldn't help but wonder what her lips might feel like against his own, if she were to kiss him.

If she were to kiss him, not if he were to kiss her. He never thought about anything beyond a small, simple kiss. It was kind of adorable, if she were to be honest, if she were not so frustrated with the fact that he did not understand what Pietro's death had done to her.

"Wanda..." he started finally, looking over at her, wanting to say something even if he still didn't know what to say.

She looked up from the apple in her hands to look at him. "You're afraid," she said, tilting her head.

"Am I?" he asked, seeming more surprised than anything.

"You are afraid because you are not human," she said. "You worry that because your body is synthezoid and your mind is artificial intelligence that it makes you artificial. You think that maybe your emotions are not real, that maybe you are not alive. You do not need to eat, to drink, to sleep. You feel human, but you're afraid that you are not, that you can never be."

She stood up. "Trust me," she told him, glancing out at the sky, blue and cloudless, the figures of Falcon and War Machine silhouetted against it, swooping and diving like ravens. "You can be alive without being human, and you can be human without being alive." She glanced down at him, as he was still sitting there, looking at her curiously.

"And trust me," she said again, tossing him the scarlet apple with the single pale bite take out of it. Her hazel eyes met his blue ones.

His eyes were the only things that looked truly alive in his face. Truly human.

She couldn't help the curl of her lip into a slight sneer. "You do not want to be human."

She turned to leave.

"Wanda," he said, almost beseeching.

She kept walking. She could hear him following after her, almost urgently, feeling like he'd just figured something out.

"What is it?" she snapped, whirling around to glare at him.

He stopped, eyes widening. "Do you..." he started, looking at her, almost unsure, almost hopeful. "Do you want a hug?"

She just stared at him.

"I believe it is a normal demonstration of affection," he said quickly. "I read some articles about how hugs help increase positive emotions in the brain—"

She threw herself into his arms, clutching him tightly, beginning to sob, and he quickly stopped talking, putting his arms around her and holding her close, tight enough to let her know that he was there and he cared, but loose enough that she knew she could break away from the embrace any moment she wanted to.

God, she missed Pietro. She missed him so much it hurt. Every moment of every second of every day. His absence was a cold, Pietro-shaped hole in her chest, cold as Death and dark as her HYDRA cell when the light was off.

Vision did not hug her like Pietro did. Vision's arms and chest did not feel like Pietro's. Vision did not smell like Pietro.

Pietro was gone. But Vision—Vision was here. He did not try to talk. Didn't say anything. Just held her, hugged her, the only person who had hugged her after Pietro's death. The only person aside from Pietro that she'd hugged since their parents had died.

She was probably the only person he'd ever hugged, ever, in his short life.

Wanda sobbed, tears rolling off Vision's synthezoid outfit. She sobbed, grossly, loudly, uncontrollably, but Vision did not try to shush her. He just held her, starting, very softly, to rub comforting circles into her back.

"I miss him," she gasped out, burying her head in Vision's shoulder. "I miss him."

Vision didn't say anything, but he felt compassion for her. She wished she could turn off her powers for a moment. Wished she wasn't always reading everyone around her without thinking about it.

Wished Pietro was still here to drown out the edge of all those minds with his blurring, blue, lightning-fast thoughts.

She thought maybe Vision's mind would be a safe place to retreat to.

With a rough shove, she pushed away from the synthezoid, rubbing at her watering eyes. Her face was no doubt red and blotchy by now, her eyes no doubt red-rimmed and puffy.

He felt confused.

"Just so you know," she muttered, face hidden by her hands, voice muffled. "Your emotions are real."

"Wanda—" Vision started, reaching out a hand.

"I'vegottogo," she said quickly, turning and running back across the roof, throwing open the door that led back inside and slamming it behind her, hurrying down the stairs, sprinting through the halls until she came to her assigned room, throwing herself inside and locking the door behind her.

With another violent sob she slid down the door, leaning back against it as she hugged her legs to her chest, burying her face in her knees, long brown hair hiding her face and tickling her arms, like curtains concealing her.

She cried until she ran out of tears. Sobbed until her body gave out and she slid down the door to curl up on the floor.

Her heart bled until she went numb. Cold, empty, and dead.

Pietro was gone.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Wanda?" came Vision's voice.

She ignored it. Just lay there curled up on the floor. He couldn't open the door if he wanted to. It was locked, and she was blocking it.

"Wanda? Are you alright?"

No, she wasn't alright. No, she wasn't going to answer. No, she didn't care how worried the Vision was. No, she wasn't even awake. She was practically asleep. She could feel the cool fingers of sleep finger-painting black on the inside of her skull. It was soft, warm. It didn't hurt. Dreamless sleep was the only time she didn't hurt.

"Wanda, my thermal sensor shows that you are lying on the floor. Don't you think the bed would be more comfortable?"

No, the floor was just fine, thank you very much. Perfectly comfortable.

"Wanda, your vitals show that you are on the verge of sleep. Are you sure you wouldn't rather sleep in your bed?"

No, no bed... she didn't have the energy... the floor right here was perfectly comfortable... the bed was too far away... so far away... might as well be as unattainable and nonexistent as Pietro...

"Wanda?"

...nothing but a memory...

...nothing...

There was a shimmer above her as Vision drifted through the door, having altered his body mass to intangibility.

Once on the other side, he made himself solid once again, bending down to gently pick up the sleeping Wanda.

With a smooth stride so as not to jostle and wake her, he crossed the room and set her carefully on her bed.

He looked down at her for a moment, taking in her beautiful features, her face calm and peaceful with sleep. He reached out a hand to brush a strand of long brown hair out of her voice, but then pulled his hand back.

A small, sad smile graced his features, then he turned around, altering his body mass so as not to cause any sounds or vibrations, glancing back at her once before drifting out of the room.

Steve was waiting on the other side of the door. "How is she?" he asked quietly.

"Sleeping," Vision said, just as quiet.

Steve nodded.

"But she... cried over him, today," Vision ventured hesitantly. "I think that might have been the first time she'd let herself cry and break down over it. That's a good thing, right?"

"I think so," Steve said, shrugging, giving a wry, humorless quirk of his lips. "At least she hasn't gotten to the stage of trying to drink away her sorrows, yet."

Vision raised an eyebrow. "Does that help?'

"Dunno," Steve said, shrugging again. "Couldn't get drunk. You could try asking Tony, though."

"I do not think I could get drunk, either," Vision remarked.

"Probably not," Steve agreed.

Vision glanced back at Wanda's door, frowning slightly. "Will she be okay?"

"She'll get better," Steve said. He looked down, nudging his booted foot against the floor. "Eventually. It takes a while."

"I wish I could do more to help her," Vision admitted, shoulders slumping slightly.

Steve put a hand on his shoulder, smiling slightly. "You can't rush the grieving process," he said. "Just be there for her."

Vision nodded. "I will."

"Good," Steve said, pulling back his hand, letting it rest by his side. "If you're not busy, I've got a task for you."

"I'm not busy," Vision said. "What task do you need me to do?"

"I think Rhodes and Sam got a little carried away with their aerial sparring," Steve said, chuckling almost fondly, shaking his head. "They've flown out of contact distance. I need you to go retrieve them."

Vision smiled. "It would be my pleasure."

Wanda woke up in her own bed.

She sat up, blinked, glanced around. Her heart still ached like a yawning void, but the tiniest trace of a smile flickered across her lips.

She stood up and carried on.

AN: *according to the Vision's Marvel wiki page

I don't know why I enjoy writing grief so much ;-;

This is the last sad chapter for a while. Next chapter we start with the fix-it scenarios!