In Darkness, Be My Light

Missing Half

Warning: Depictions of self-harm.

Author's Note: We *clap* don't *clap* deserve *clap* Vision *clap*. He's the cutest, sweetest synthezoid EVER. Periodt. Wanda is so lucky to have him <3 she deserves the love, especially after how she got treated at the Raft.

Her back was bent forward; her legs were crossed; her head was fallen; her hair draped the sides of her face; her hands held a tear-soaked tissue.

The room was cold and the lights were off.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the floor to ceiling window at the city which held a faint glow from the overcast sky; it was most definitely cliché for this particular day. The lightning was frequent and bright; it was the only source of light that partially illuminated her room for less than a second. Her thoughts were so deep in grief that the thunder made her jerk. Her breathing was slow and heavy; it was the only thing she heard besides the harsh rain hitting against the window and the sound of thunder that visited her.

She locked her door, and no one bothered her. They knew that she needed to be alone to grieve.

Pietro, her missing half, was killed by Ultron a little more than a year ago. She felt him be violently ripped from life. She only saw his body after she escaped the crumbling, falling city of Sokovia.

She hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to his life-filled body, now lifeless. She had hugged his dead body, not caring about the blood from the many large bulletholes that stained her skin and clothing.

She felt like she had died with him. "Wanda, if you stay here, you'll die," Ultron had said to her, and in a coldhearted response, she had told the robot, "I just did. Do you know how it felt?" And she ended his most prized form, hatred and anger flooded her as she did so. But she still didn't feel free. Safe, but not free.

So this was where she was now. Trapped in an ocean of grief. She was drowning.

Sometimes, she wished she had died when the city was falling. She wished she was with Pietro. She was the last Maximoff alive.

Sometimes, she would think of dying or purposely trying to die. She never tried. She knew it wasn't right. Pietro wouldn't have wanted it. So, instead of trying to end her dark-filled life, she used her arms to release the pain. Three more cuts stained her arm. Her left arm took the fall from the razor blade she used for shaving. She had six now, but there was nothing she could do now but use the cream Natasha gave her to help the scar tissue to not be so exposed. Her arm was in a gauze wrap, large patches of bandages lay underneath the wrap. Because of this, she wore a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt.

All of her clothing was black: her jeans, shoes, socks, and even her jewelry. She wore all black to show her raw mourning.

The feeling of grief was still fresh in her mind. It felt like he had just died today. She couldn't stop the dark thoughts. She wondered if she should cut again, release more pain.

Who was she to ask for help?

A knock distracted her thoughts. "Wanda?" Steve's muffled voice came through the door. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she partially yelled. Her voice was terribly shaky. She breathed in and quickly shook her hands back and forth to remove her nervousness.

"Someone said they wanted to see you," he told her after a moment of silence.

She paused, wondering if she wanted to even see anyone today. "S-sure, I'll be out in a minute." Her heart was pounding and her ears rang as she threw her tissue with the pile of other tear-soaked ones in the trashcan next to her bed.