When Tony stepped next to her, Wanda straightened up, a look of contempt and desperation on her face. The expression reminded Tony of how he had felt when he'd tried to defend Ultron against the other avengers.
"What do you want, Stark?"
"Are you acting out your accent or can't you sound normal?" Tony shrugged at the bewilderment in her eyes. "Just asking." Pepper had berated him about his smalltalk techniques, but old habits die hard. He couldn't work with people who took everything serious. Barton was bad enough with his ever-so- solemn-face, but Rogers… great god, he had wished more than once they'd left him in the ice.
Cap was right, what did he know about family?
"I'm sorry for what happened to your brother." At least this he could say with sincerity.
"And my home? My friends? My parents? Are you sorry for them as well?" The young woman grinned bitterly. "What do you really want, Mr. Stark? Have you come to end it?"
"End?"
"What you started ten years ago. What we waited for while we were cowering under the bed, afraid of every breath because it might set off the bomb. Are you here to kill me like we came to kill you?" Her voice was thick with tears. Tony frowned. Her words were too pathetic to be honest but there was something in her face that made him uncomfortable. Hope. She was a fighter, she would not allow herself to die from grief – but a part of her wanted to. A part of her was too tired and too lonely to even attempt to move on.
Probably.
Or probably he was just interpreting his own feelings into the girl. He never had been as superficial as he'd let on, but for most of his life, his highest priority had been he himself. Then he had learnt that there were people he would die for, people whose death would be worse than if he died himself – at least, the prospect was.
And lately, Wanda Maximoff had shown him that there was something even worse than losing the people he loved more than himself: surviving the loss. Staying alive, the last witness of mankind.
Tony shook the memory off, ignoring the lingering cold in his neck. Under different circumstances, there was a lot he'd like to tell that witch. Not exactly nice things. But these were no different circumstances, and as much as he wished he could blame someone – anyone – else, he knew he couldn't. This was his fault, and his alone.
He had avenged himself and his mind with the battle of Sokovia, when he had helped defeating Ultron, but was that enough to still call himself an avenger?
"If you still wanted to kill me you'd already done it" he said, belatedly. "I think we're both over that."
That got her attention, she turned her head. "You wanted to kill me?"
"I was considering it." Not really, but she didn't need to know that.
"Do me a favor, Stark. Try." With demonstrative calmness, Wanda's glance moved away from him and beyond the horizon, back to a time where this moment would have been her greatest triumph. Tony Stark alone, within her reach. He was right. She could have killed him by now.
But it would not change a thing. Why hadn't she realized that earlier? Nothing could bring back the dead. Not letting HYDRA work on them. Not cooperating with Ultron. Not killing their murderer.
Involuntarily, Wanda backed away as the tears threatened to return, only minutes after she'd given in to them. It wouldn't do.
As much as she wished she could blame Tony Stark, she knew she couldn't. Not for Pietro's death.

"The last time I tried something on my own we almost lost everything." Tony didn't seem to have noticed the sudden distance, his voice was so low Wanda barely understood. "I only wanted to save them from the future you showed me. I saw the worst thing that could happen, and to prevent that I was ready to do everything. The thing is…. I still can't blame myself for that."
"You created a monster!" But her voice no longer were poisonous. What would she have done to prevent Pietro's death?
Everything.
"Because heroes usually die! That's what makes them heroes, but it doesn't always get the job done." Tony shook his head. "Heroes fall. Or they get corrupted. Either way, they…"
"What about the avengers? Aren't they supposed to be heroes?" Wanda looked at the two men standing in the distance. She knew Barton had a wife, and children; she had seen the picture of his newborn son. His middle name was "Pietro", obviously that should have consoled her. To see that what remained of her brother was a name fit for a baby. Almost as pathetic an idea as thinking that killing Stark would bring back their parents.
Her thoughts were running in circles, again and again.