Wanda Maximoff was many things: a twin, a sister, a girl with many undiscovered powers at her fingertips.
But never call her an Avenger. They are to blame for her brother's death in their home of Sokovia.
Having refused to stay in Avenger care, Wand...
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Like before, Wanda took care of the hotel accommodations for the both of them. However, the room wasn't quite what they'd wanted. Instead of two separate beds, they had one king size.
The two sat on the plush bed. Wanda messed with the rings on her fingers.
"Well, go on, sis," said Pietro. He had himself propped up on the bed. "Show her."
"Are you ready?" Wanda asked Helena.
"I guess as ready as I can be." Helena squared her shoulders.
Inhaling deeply, Wanda allowed red tendrils to slither across the air to Helena's head. Helena jumped, looking as though she was going to swat the magic away. Wanda let her eyes shut slowly, accessing one of the most painful memories to date in her mind.
Her chest seized up from the pain. It echoed the pain she had felt the day she'd lost Pietro. In fact, this memory went beyond that.
~*~
She hated everything. She hated the Avengers. She hated the world. She hated herself. She hated Ultron.
At least she ended the robotic bastard. The Avengers had told her that he had shot at Pietro. Her twin had saved Clint Barton and a little boy from gunfire from the quinjet.
The fact that he died a hero did not help her cope any better.
Wanda had shut herself down from the Avengers. She had allowed them to take her back to their newest facility, farther up north in New York. She'd closed herself off in the room they'd assigned her. She refused any company. She refused to be seen when she did slip out of her room for the bathroom, shower, or for food and drink. She just wanted to be alone.
The only person she craved company from was dead.
Today, she sought out his company. It took her some time, but she found herself in the morgue. She'd found Pietro's body. She didn't pull the sheet entirely off of him; she made sure it covered up his bullet wounds. Why couldn't they save him? Why couldn't I? What is the point in these powers if I couldn't save him?
Wanda shook from the pain constricting her chest. She wanted to cry, scream, throw an all-out tantrum. She had no family left.
"I-I'm sorry," she sobbed to her brother's corpse. His skin was pale in death, but not as pale as his hair was. "W-we were in this together, Pietro. W-why did you have to leave?"
Wanda stiffened at hearing the morgue door opening. Crap.
"Wanda?" It was the assassin, Natasha Romanoff.
Wanda did not turn to acknowledge the woman inside of the morgue. "I never got to say goodbye," she said hollowly. The pain in her chest grew. "Ultron stole him from me. S-Stark took him from me." She felt the hot anger boil in her veins. "Y-you all made me lose him!"
