Author's Note: Ok, so this is all I had planned so far for Wanda's arc in SoS, which I planned to be pretty prominent (though not as prominent as Peter's). I have some general notes on what happened with her character up until this story. Hopefully the format of this isn't too confusing. Anything with the ***in front of it are my general notes and summaries, and then I have a few scenes written out in full. There are probably errors and inconsistencies since I never got around to planning everything in detail, but hopefully this is enjoyable for those of you reading up to this point!

THE SCARLET WITCH

Wanda Maximoff's Story Arc

Events Leading Up to Sound of Silence

Follows MCU canon through Civil War

SILENT NIGHT: Wanda is freed from the raft and leaves with Vision for some time away from the Avengers

RIDERS IN THE SKY: Wanda and Vision return to New York to defend the city against the Dravec. They are taken and imprisoned, then dropped to the alien planet to be hunted. Wanda finds Vision, then they save Steve Rogers from an attack. She reads the alien's mind, and through the pain manages to learn they've been hunting people for centuries. They set a trap for the Dravec, fight, and are almost defeated but win, and then a hole is blasted through Vision's chest. Wanda obliterates the hunter that hurt him, then tries to heal him, but with his synthetic makeup, she couldn't do it on her own. They take shelter, and Wanda stays with Vis while Cap goes for help. He sends Loki and Heimdall, who helps her heal Vision. Loki is very intrigued by her and her power. During the final battle, Wanda fights with Vison and Loki, Clint, then the Hulk at her side, then she's knocked unconscious. Two Dravec warriors drag her into the jungle, and she is saved by Loki, who brings her back to the others. On the ship back home, Loki asks her about the origin of her powers, and she tells Vision she can't lose him, and makes him promise that he wouldn't do something like that again, that he wouldn't leave her.

HUNTED: They are seen attending the Stark/Potts Wedding as guests.

SOUND OF SILENCE-The Scarlet Witch Arc

"I just feel you."

***Through deep meditation and hypnosis, centered on their connection to both the mind stone and each other, Wanda and Vision discover the depths to her power.

-Dream a Little Dream of Me (Opening Wanda/Vis Scene)

Wanda Maximoff

. . .

. . .

I've read many minds.

Altered them. Manipulated them. Entering a person's mind is like coaxing open a door with a subtle curl of my fingers, then slipping inside. Each is unique with its own aura and ambience, and with a single breath I can practically taste the flavor of their soul.

They present themselves so differently. A blank, white expanse, the horizon dotted with objects and places of meaning. A labyrinthian palace, grand and opulent and filled with passages. An undulating ocean with waves like shifting sands to walk upon and mirror pools to dive beneath.

But in the end, all minds are, at the core of themselves, the same. A prism of thoughts and feeling and memory and function, all contained within a shell.

So many minds . . . and yet I've never delved into my own.

"What is it?" Vision's voice softly breathes into the space between us.

Eyes shut, brows creased, I murmur, "I don't know if we should."

"We can stop," he offers. But I can hear the feeling unvoiced in his tone. He doesn't want to stop. He wants to do this.

And so do I, at least, I thought I did.

Even with my eyes pressed shut, I can see a bead of yellow light through my lids. The small stone, cradled within Vision's forehead like a jewel set into a crown. It's the stone that prompted this moment, both of us sitting cross-legged on our bed, our knees and feet touching, our breath shared.

This morning as we were sleeping, just before dawn's light could filter through the sheer, gauzy curtains covering the window, Vision's stone flared gently, unbidden. Lying facing each other, both our eyes had snapped open in the same second, mine flitting to the now quiet gem, then back to the icy blue planes of Vision's synthetic irises.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I am not sure," he murmured, the skin around his eyes creasing with startled confusion. "Did you . . . "

"No," I said back. "What did you feel?"

"It was . . . warm, like a stray spark," he said, frowning. "What do you feel?"

Still lying facing him, my hair splayed across the pillow, I lifted my hand, my middle finger dipping toward the yellow stone, and red light curled softly around it.

"I just feel you."

There was no sleep to be had after that. And the conversation born from that small flare of unbidden light urged us to look closer at the stone.

It had once rested within the core of a scepter borne by Loki, disgraced Prince of Asgard. And then, extracted from the staff by Hydra scientists in a Sokovian Hydra facility, it was used in experiments. Experiments my brother and I volunteered for.

From its touch, we were transformed, enhanced by power.

When it was taken by Ultron and placed into the new body he meant for himself, Vision was born with powers of his own.

But no one who had ever come into contact with the yellow gem ever truly understood what it is. Certainly not I, and not even Vision, who wears and wields it with care. Yet there is no one more connected to it, to each other, than us.

It was Vision who proposed, who insisted, that we begin to explore that connection, to find the meaning of what the stone is, why we were given such vastly different powers, and what it means for us all.

Starting with me.

I adjust my position sitting on the bed, the quilt beneath me crinkling as the mattress squeaks.

"You're supposed to be relaxing," Vision says.

I blow out a frustrated breath, eyes still shut. "I am relaxed."

"Focus," he says gently, and before I can reply with just how helpful that advice is, I feel his hands press against my knees. "Let my touch ground you. Allow the sounds of the wind and birdsong outside to lull you into a quiet stillness."

"You've been watching too many meditation YouTube videos."

"Wanda."

"Sorry. Focusing."

I breathe in through my nose, letting my hands fall loosely into my lap as I register the steady feel of his palms on my knees.

It should be easy. After all, I am well versed at entering minds, and my own should have its door flung wide open to me. It should be like falling backward into a pool. An inhale and a plunge.

But it isn't.

There's resistance. Like I'm leaning against a stucco wall, the texture rough against my cheek, my palms, and no matter how I push, it doesn't give.

Come on, Wanda, I reprimand myself. Focus on the mind stone that gave you power. Focus on where the power came from, where it resides, the connection. Focus on the connection. Learn the extent of your power.

Vaguely, I feel my brows creasing, and then Vision's fingers are gently brushing them back to smoothness. A delighted shiver runs down my spine as his fingers trace circles at my temples, sweep back to the center of my forehead, then back again.

I let out a soft sound, and I feel him smile.

"Your inner eye," he says, and now I know he's been watching too many meditation videos. "The Forehead Chakra. Direct inner perception with form and the center of higher clairvoyance. Or . . . so they say."

"Mmhmm," I say, happy to let him continue guiding my spirit or chakra or whatever as long as he keeps touching me.

Back and forth, circling and sweeping.

Goosebumps rise across my skin.

Vision presses into the center of my forehead, tracing the shape of an eye there, and I want to giggle, but I'm too entranced by the sensations.

Then his touch stops.

I frown, dismayed by the loss, and open my eyes to tell him to continue.

My breath catches.

All around me is an endless expanse of black, infinite universe.

I rise, and glancing down, I see the soles of my bare feet are pressed against a black mirror, my reflection below shadowed.

It's all so dark . . . why is it so dark?

But it isn't, and I don't know how I missed it. Missed them.

Storms. Massive clusters of crimson galaxies swirling against the black. I'm stepping closer, my eyes fixed on them. Flashes of lightning, of memory, my memory, splay across the burning red clouds. There one moment, swept away in the haze the next.

It's silent, but not silent.

A ringing pitch from a tuning fork.

Endless and echoing.

Echoing and endless.

And within me breathes a cold, depthless fear.

Those kinetic storms, those bursts of energy, holding memory, knowledge, every thought and every feeling, but more, and deeper—all rippling chaos and torment and–

Endless.

There is no shell to contain it all. No door to close. Bare and boundless, it stretches on into eternity, and there is no end to it. No end to me.

The fear is choking, filling my lungs as I try to draw breath and can't.

I'm drowning in it. In me.

And those storms of raw, vibrant self are pulsing red in the cosmos, so near now they cast scarlet light across my body.

No sound but a ringing, on and on, the pitch never wavering.

Hands pressed into the sides of my head, fingers tangled in my wild hair, eyes fixed on those storms, I scream.

"WANDA."

With a feeling like water poured abruptly into a glass, careless and splashing, I'm back in our bedroom, seated facing Vision on the bed that we share.

He cups my face in his hands, his face pinched with worry as he searches my eyes. "What is it? What happened?"

A faint echo still rings in my ears, that unbreakable frequency.

My throat is dry, and I have to swallow several times before I speak, and even then, my voice comes out as a croak.

"Nothing."

Vision blinks. "You were in great distress. That was not nothing."

I pull back, and his hands fall from my cheeks. Nausea splays its fingers through my gut as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my hands grasping the familiar softness of the quilt.

"Wanda," Vision says, tentative and gentle. "What did you see? Was it the stone?"

I shake my head.

"Then what is it that has you so shaken?"

Memories shrouded in veils of crimson, illuminated by flashes of wicked lightning. A black universe, stretching on and on and–

"There's nothing," I say, then look at him, aware that my terror is naked on my face. "No limit to my power, Vis. It's not a well or a lake or an ocean. It's as infinite as the cosmos, and there's nothing to contain it. No walls, no doors, no end. There's nothing there."

He's silent as he takes this in, and I look away. My eyes bore into the rug at my feet, tracing the lines of the gray and blue pattern beneath my toes.

Even now . . . I can feel that–that universe within me, not even restricted beneath the confines of my own skin. It's an effort not to sink into that abyss of despair, to feel like I'm drowning in my own limitless power.

"Wanda."

If I were to look within Vision's mind the way I did my own, would I see the same thing? And what if I didn't? What if the light there was golden and warm, and walking around his mind, his power, would be like walking within the faceted walls of a yellow jewel? All neat and contained and good.

What does it mean? What does it say about me?

"Wanda, look at me."

A finger crooks under my chin and turns my face. Vision's expression is solemn, but earnest. "Do not be afraid."

I choke out a laugh. "How can you say that? If you'd seen what I saw–what I am–"

"I have seen you," he says. "I see all of you. I may not be as experienced in the world and in relationships as, say, Tony Stark, but I think you're the most beautiful creature to have ever walked this Earth. And your mind, your power, it is just as beatific. It's you, Wanda. There's nothing to be scared of."

I'm shaking my head, even as his words soften into my heart like warm, melting butter. "Vis–"

"We are beings of extraordinary power. It may have come to us through different circumstances, but it came to us all the same. And we decide how to use it."

Vision gives me a small smile, his eyes guileless and bright as he reaches now for my hand. "If there is no end to your power, Wanda, then there's no limit to what you can do. And that . . . that is a miracle."

"You don't believe in miracles," I say.

"I believe in you," he answers, and I can't fight the smile that curves my lips in answer. I lean into him, breathing deeply as his arms circle around me.

I believe in you, he said.

Closing my eyes, I try to fight the trepidation growing like brambles in my chest.

And I wish I felt the same.

*** Likely born with magical abilities of her own, the mind stone simply unlocked and amplified them to untold levels. While Wanda is alarmed when she meditates at Vision's insistence again and discovers this, Vision is intrigued and determined to figure out the depths to her power and the connection to the mind stone. But Wanda pulls back, refusing to go further, despite Vision's awkward attempts to get her to open up both about her past more as well as her power.

***We see glimpses of the life they've made together. A house in a modest town in upstate New York, not too far from the Avengers compound, and near enough to drive less than an hour to Clint's farm. They have a favorite restaurant, (or Wanda does, since Vision doesn't eat, though he enjoys pretending), a small, local place that serves central-southeastern European food that reminds her of Sokovia. They dine, Wanda eating Liptauer, a paprika-spiced cheese bread, with her gulas, a hearty meat stew, along with a glass of wine, and she reminds Vision of the time he tried to make her paprikash back at the compound. Talk moves to her childhood, to the meals she shared with her family, to the movie nights that followed. But when Vision tries to bring up any early manifestations of her power, she closes down. They return home, and we see their sweet little house, the decorations a little old fashioned, the furniture a little too worn, but it's cozy, homey, and it's their slice of normal, of happiness. Happiness broken by a phone call, and when Clint tells her of Ultron's survival and return, her power shatters every window, every picture frame, every mirror in the house.

***At the Avengers compound, Vision is questioned thoroughly by the others. He was the one who was monitoring every facet of Ultron at that final battle in Sokovia, making sure every trace of him was destroyed. So how, then, did Ultron survive? When questioning gets aggressive, and Vision is overwhelmed and stunned by his own failure and confusion, Wanda steps in to angrily defend him. "What matters now," she says, eyes blazing. "Is finding Ultron. And I assure you, this time, I will erase every molecule of him myself until he is nothing but a memory."

***While Wanda struggles with the inner battle concerning the depths of her power, (Should she be trying to learn the extent of it to aid in the battle against Ultron? But opening that door . . . if she truly is so powerful, couldn't she have saved her parents? Pietro? It's too painful to contemplate), Vision struggles with guilt and confusion on just how he could have let this happen. How did Ultron escape? And whatever Ultron does now, it is on Vision's shoulders, his burden to bear.

***They fight alongside the Avengers, struggling to defend against an unseen enemy that is tearing their lives apart piece by piece. Then there is the other threat of an old enemy unleashed, dividing the team on which is the bigger and more urgent threat.

***There are arguments and fights within the Avengers, Ultron playing the same game as last time, divide from within. But that was also Wanda's game, and it was her role to tear them apart from the inside. She knows this, and uses the knowledge to stop the team from crumbling, despite her own inner battle, despite Vision's.

***We see a quiet moment on the eve of a planned attack. Vision and Wanda in their home, on the porch, expressing their fears, their doubts. They share comfort in each other, an embrace, a kiss, rocking on the porch swing, watching the fireflies hover above the grass. Vision goes to bed, but Wanda stays, watching them glow, then fade. She gets a call and answers it, thinking it's Clint. But it's Ultron. They exchange a handful of words, both betrayed by the other, and yet, Ultron says "It's because of you I was created. Because of you, I have this purpose, this burden to bear. I would have you bear it with me." He makes his last and only offer for her to join him in the creation of his new world. After a long moment of watching the fireflies blink in and out, Wanda agrees.

***Vision returns to the compound and tells them Wanda is missing. The news is met with horrified, stunned silence. It begins to dissipate in two directions; worry and suspicion. There are arguments that Wanda was taken or killed by Ultron, that she left to join him once again, that she would NEVER do that. And in the chaos, Vision hears her voice in his mind. And she tells him where Ultron is. What he's planning.

***The final battle commences. When Ultron learns of Wanda's betrayal, he is disappointed but unsurprised. He needed the Avengers to come to him, and used her to bring them. Because he is after Vision's mind stone, the stone that will help him reshape the world. Vision and Ultron fight, and when Vision is brought down, Wanda tries to defend him, but she can't reach the full extent of her powers, because she hasn't dared to, and she loses. Ultron rips the stone from Vision's head, killing him.

. . .

. . .

Wanda Maximoff (The Finale)

. . .

. . .

My Vision. Mine.

His skin is cold beneath the palm of my hand. Gray. Empty.

Gone.

I can barely register the tears steadily sliding down my cheeks, the quivering of my lips as my face crumples.

The battle rages on around me, but I can't hear it over the empty ringing in my ears.

Not this. Not again. Please.

Please.

I rest my hand on his shattered, ruined forehead.

Metallic fingers stroke soothingly through my hair. "I'm sorry, Wanda," Ultron says. "It had to be this way."

I believed that once. When Pietro and I volunteered for Strucker's experiments to avenge our parents, I thought there was no choice. When we followed Ultron into war against the Avengers, I believed there was no other way.

But the Avengers showed me there was another way.

Vis showed me.

"You were always supposed to be with me at the end," Ultron says grimly at my back, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Standing tall at my side. Not kneeling on the ground like you're one of them."

He turns away.

Vision's blank, gray eyes stare up at me.

I think then, that Vision was the last thing tethering me to my humanity. To this world. And that thread was just cut.

There are no strings on me.

The wind picks up, tossing my hair back from my face, then whipping it across my cheeks. Heat swells in the place where my heart used to be, magma surging down the canals of my veins.

I know my eyes are burning red, because a crimson cast is upon Vision's gray skin, tinting it almost back to its vibrant hue.

I look up.

Ultron pauses, turning to glance over at his shoulder at me. "Don't. We both know how this ends."

He squeezes the infinity stone within his metal hand to emphasize his point, pale yellow beams of light shining through his fingers.

The world around us is bathed in crimson as psionic power radiates around me, a galaxy of billowing, vibrating light. It moves in a convulsing current, my chest heating with every swell.

Ultron's eyes narrow, and he faces me fully. "Wanda. Enough."

Vision's weight is heavy across my lap.

Ultron raises his fist, golden beams glaring and growing in defiance of the scarlet storm.

It surges for me in a gleaming torrent, that incredible, world changing power that used to be his. The light meets mine.

And stops.

It can't hurt me. Even now. Because it's him. And it's me.

It's us.

Ultron's eyes widen, his fingers tightening around the stone, channeling its energy, and the beam grows, pushing harder against me. Were I anyone else, it would obliterate me, burn me away to nothing.

It fizzes away against the red light undulating between us, dissipating as fast as it pours from the stone.

Something akin to panic twists Ultron's face as he suddenly understands.

Movement flickers all around us, a legion of his hive minded androids abandoning whatever skirmish they were fighting in to surge for me. Tens, then hundreds of them in all directions, converging like a swarm of flies to the dead.

Still, Ultron tries to use the stone against me.

Still, I burn.

The androids reach the outskirts of my power, and as they strain into it, bodies craning forward as if fighting a massive wind, bits of metal begin flaking off of them. Faster and faster, so that by the time they near me, they become nothing more than molten embers fluttering away to merge with the crimson swarms.

My gaze doesn't leave Ultron.

He presses on with Vision's stone, with his army of metal creatures, thinking to wear me down, that I will buckle under the pressure from all sides.

Maybe I would have, before.

Now? I am endless.

All the heat in my chest reaches its peak, my whole body alight with psionic energy. My eyes fix on the yellow infinity stone.

The beam battering against my power is dragged back to its source, more and more and more, until it becomes just a faintly glowing bead in Ultron's fist. He glances down at it, then at me, his expression slack.

I push.

Ultron's metal hand crumples with a horrific wrenching screech, and the stone slips from his mangled grasp to clatter to the ground.

He stumbles back, looking at his ruined vibranium hand, then at me. "Wanda-Wanda, wait-"

The words come to me like a spell, like I really am the witch that they call me.

He sees it in my face. "WAIT!"

My lips part, and my voice emerges in a deep, hollow rasp.

"No. . . More. . . Ultron."

For a split second, nothing happens, the androids fight on, and Ultron's eyes are wide and afraid.

Then a crimson tidal wave detonates, my body at its epicenter, and a devastating, ear splitting silence follows. The psionic energy passes through everything and leaves it unscathed.

Everything but Ultron.

My power is a living thing, a catastrophic entity that sweeps through the entire world, the entire universe in a blinding rush, altering reality, obliterating every shred, every scrap, every speck of him. It devours the androids suddenly fleeing, leaving the being before me for last.

Him, it savors molecule by molecule, eating away indestructible metal and turning it to nothing.

Ultron's mouth hangs open, a surprised, pained inhale drawing from his metal lips. Glowing eyes meet my own, and he looks at me with an expression almost like betrayal. The same look I once received when I tore his heart from his chest.

I feel nothing at all as Ultron is wiped away from the world.

I feel nothing.

There's nothing.

Embers drift from the sky like burning snow.

The small, yellow infinity stone lifts from the ground and floats to my waiting hand. It's warm against my palm, the glow familiar in its jewel-like bed.

I just feel you.

Fingers suddenly trembling, I hold the stone up to Vision's ruined forehead.

But the stone . . . though I can feel the limitless energy within . . . it doesn't feel right. It's altered somehow, still powerful, but no longer resonating its familiarity. I probe it with my own power, searching . . . and it's a stranger to me.

Breath hitching, I press the stone against the splintered crater where it once resided.

"Bring . . . him . . . back."

Crimson light weaves around my palms, around the stone, across Vision's face. I remember his voice, his touch, his scent. I wrap it all around me and pour it into my power, willing it to create as thoroughly as it had just destroyed.

If there is no limit to my power, then I can change this. I can save him. It's just another spell.

There are footsteps.

I ignore them, my eyes spilling over with that heat as I clench my teeth and press down harder.

"Bring . . . him . . . back."

That's Tony approaching. Natasha. Scott. I don't need to look up to know they're coming slowly toward me. Their grief, their pity, their nauseating resignation is all oozing toward me, tainting my concentration.

"Wanda."

I grasp for Vision, throwing all that I have, all that I am into the scarlet energy warping the air around him.

I can't feel him . . . I can't . . .

"BRING HIM BACK!"

There's a sudden, rapid surge, a blinding swell, a clap of thunder as my power collides with the stone, as my will presses down, down, down . . .

The light dies, and breathing hard, I lift my hand away.

Yellow gleams from the stone, resting against cold, gray features cracked like old concrete. A gust of wind sweeps over me, and the body I cradle suddenly crumbles into dry rock, spilling onto my lap and the ground around me.

My throat cinches tight as I look down at my trembling hands, holding nothing but ash and a glittering yellow stone.

I stare.

"Wanda," Natasha's voice cracks. "Wanda, look at me."

Not limitless. Not endless.

Here is the end to my power. Here is the truth of it. There is nothing I can't destroy, and I've been destroying those around me, the ones I loved, since I was a child.

But I can't heal. And I can't save him.

I can't save him.

The heat in me dies. It's sucked from my limbs into the cold, yawning chasm unfolding within my chest.

A dying star. A black hole.

Nothing. I feel nothing.

Everything suspends around me, the air thickening with an unnatural charge. I feel my hair lift and undulate like I'm underwater.

My fingers close over the infinity stone.

It's so easy to call out its energy, to fuse it with my own. Like calling to like.

And before the others can get anywhere near me, I unleash a twisting cyclone of world-ending energy that spirals around me and rips open the sky to touch the stars. I'm an empty vessel to this power, a conduit.

Whoever I was burned away with Vision.

I feel foreign terror coating my skin like an oily sheen, and through this blinding vortex of combined power, scarlet and gold, I see the others staggering back, arms raised, faces blanching.

It's okay, I want to tell them as I burn and burn and burn.

We'll all go together.

. . .

. . .

****Chapter break, going to several POVS before returning.

. . .

. . .

The energy is infinite. Endless. Consuming.

I surrender to it.

Close my eyes, breathe it in, breathe it out.

Burn.

"HEY!"

A voice is yelling over the roar, over the crackling energy.

"EYES ON ME!'

My eyes lift obediently, piercing through the crimson gold storm. A man stands there at the edge, arms lifted, bracing against the light, slowly stepping closer, pushing against a great force.

His skin is burning away. He hisses, stops, but doesn't retreat.

I . . . I know him.

His eyes squint against the light. "Eyes on me," he repeats through clenched teeth.

Clint. His name is Clint.

"Wanda, you have to stop."

Why should I?

I look back at my hands, red light burning from within so bright, I can see every bone, every vein, every tendon. The yellow stone searing into my palm is the focus that the maelstrom swirls around. The eye of the storm.

"Hey!" Clint snaps. "I said, eyes on me."

My gaze finds him again.

"Come on, Wanda. It's time to go home. Let it go."

Home?

Home is empty. Home is nothing without him.

Vision. Vis.

His name splinters through me, cracking through the numb quiet like a lance of deadly ice.

Alone. I'm alone.

"You're not," Clint insists, lingering at the edge of the screaming, raging energy. "You have us. I know we aren't much. But we're family."

Family?

"You're afraid of me," I croak hoarsely. "You all are."

I felt it. I feel it still.

I am a curse. I am death. I am ruination.

"We're not afraid of you," Clint says firmly. "We're afraid for you."

Tears stream down my cheeks.

"I know it's hard. I know it hurts so bad, you want to burn up and take the world down with you. But we're Avengers. We fight. We make the hard choice and keep on going, because that's what we do."

"I don't know if I can."

"You can," he replies quietly, but I can hear him perfectly over the screaming cyclone. "We'll help you. It's what family does. Now let it go."

My eyes squeeze shut, my shoulders curling in as I tighten my fist over the infinity stone and stifle the rattling in my chest.

"Wanda, let it go."

A shuddering sob escapes me, and my fingers go slack, the stone clattering to the ground.

The energy dissipates midair, that devastating surge of power dying away, staining the sky like spilled watercolor, and instead of feeling empty, I feel everything. I inhale, deep and thin, and then I'm weeping, sobbing hard enough to feel the strain against my ribs.

My hair falls in a curtain around me, a keening wail fighting its way free as I rock forward.

Hands reach for me, pulling my body against an armored chest.

I cling to him, sobbing, screaming, and Clint holds me tight.

He doesn't let go.

***In the end, we see Wanda in her and Vision's house, alone and lost. Steve and Clint arrive, Clint hanging back after telling Steve how bad she's been, and Steve goes inside to talk to her. For a long time, he doesn't say anything, just sits beside her in her grief. Being with her in it. Eventually she begins to speak on her own, and she breaks down in his arms.

*** "I've had this storm in my blood since I was a little girl. The stone . . . Vision's stone . . . it was a key, and it unlocked the door and set it free. And I wonder . . . I wonder if this storm inside me has taken everyone I have ever loved. My parents. My brother. Vis. He thought my power was a gift, and freeing it could unleash a host of wonders. He called me a miracle. But he was wrong. It's a curse. I'm a curse. My life is a tragedy, and I walk this road alone."

Author's Note Part Two:

So that's it for Wanda for now! I had more plans for her in future installments, dealing with her grief and loss and coming back to herself, but for Sound of Silence, this would have been her story, and it was so beyond fun to write. I absolutely love her.

Thanks to those of you still sticking around to read and review!

Heroes21: Thank you for reaching out and for being the inspiration to post all this! I hope it's living up to expectations. :)

RedHood001: That is so kind of you, and I'm glad you're enjoying! Ultron is just so deliciously evil (Thank you, James Spader), and I really wanted to have my chance to play with him with all the new dynamics of my Avengers. Hope you enjoyed this "chapter" and hopefully will post more soon!

NEXT UP:

We will probably be delving into Peter's arc/story for SoS. It'll take me a bit to put it all together as cohesive as I can make it, but hopefully won't be too much of a wait.