in his time with the avengers, after his sister's untimely death, pietro's known nothing but the urge to keep going forward—even if it is at his own expense. when tony stark and steve rogers split up the avengers, the decision was easy for him. his hatred for tony was always fervent and open, unapologetic, even after pietro had taken responsibility for his and his sister's actions in sokovia.
earth was attacked by aliens, the universe in disarray as half its living beings disappeared from existence. it did not bother pietro as much, as he watched others get dusted, because nothing could carve a hole as deep as the loss of his sister years before.
still, human ingenuity prevailed, the stones assembled, thanos' plan undone. the problem is that with tony stark's sacrifice came feelings he wasn't (and still isn't) ready to parse; with natasha gone, he can't really look at clint in the eye anymore—he visits the family once in a while, but the man is clearly a shell of his former self; with steve disappearing, it left pietro with nowhere to go. there is nothing that ties him to others, nothing that gives him a sense of purpose, other than helping his people in what land remains of sokovia.
disconnected from the world as he is, he was not prepared for a feeling he had thought lost to return to him. wanda, is the first thing his mind goes to, and he speeds across the land, mountains, and cities trying to find her. it is amidst the rubble, and despite the impossibility of it all, that he finds her—a crown on her head, fingertips washed out in black paint, life seeming to have been squeezed right out of her.
but she breathed still.
pietro has since brought her to one of the camps in the outskirts of what used to be sokovia, where people know him well. she will awaken inside one of the tents; shadows loom across it, painted onto the fabric by the crackling bonfire outside, trinkets and boxes surrounding the makeshift bed. bed covers, duvets, all with the intention of replicating a mattress proper. he would go and look for something better for her, more pillows perhaps, but he sits instead, a hand holding tightly onto hers, lingering on the pulse he feels under her skin. pietro feels that he can breathe again after ten ugly years, but his thoughts are in disarray. his eyes keep glancing back at the crown he's removed from her head and put on top of a crate, and he wonders about the bags under her eyes, her dry lips. how much older she looks (he does, too), at how drained she looks.
it's been a few weeks now, and though doctors have come to see her, all they've said is wait.
pietro, the worst person at being patient in the world, has done just that: wait. he squeezes her hand tighter in his, kisses at her knuckles, and whispers a plea in the form of her name, warmth on her skin as he keeps his forehead against her hand, hunched over in this small space.]
Shame, because she's seen monsters. Worked alongside monsters. Killed monsters. To become one, to let the Darkhold take hold of those dark parts of her and make them fester, feels like an insult to everyone she's lost. Her parents. Her brother. Vision. The boys. Why would she want to come back from that and face the living who don't know her and lack any sympathy? Some, rightly so.
The second, stronger thing she feels is pressure around her hand. It's warm and familiar and she'd know it anywhere. Pietro. It's dull, at first. A light on the horizon. But as she comes to, returns to herself, she can feel him. She can hear him.
Her fingers move within his grasp before her eyes move behind her closed eyelids, brow furrowed before she slowly cracks her eyes open. Her vision is blurred, mouth dry, but there's some sort of attempt to speak that comes out as a confused noise.]
[it takes pietro a moment to realize that what he feels is not his imagination, a figment of wistful thinking. he raises his head and stares in wonder for a moment, sees the telltale signs of someone waking up. his hand tightens around wanda's, while another absconds entirely to press against her face.
pietro draws closer, on his knees and over his sister, his thumb gentle against her cheek.]
Wanda?
[his chest feels heavy, like there's a dam about to burst. his sister had died in the altercation with ultron—she was killed, and for years he carried the burden of being the only remaining maximoff in this world. he doesn't understand how she is here, now, or what it all means, but this is his sister. he feels it, in the way he doesn't feel so hollow, so empty, anymore.
it's been a while since he's talked in english, which is why his words come out in sokovian.]
Open your eyes, Wanda. It's me, your insufferable brother. Please.
[She almost turns her face away from the touch, not expecting a hand against her face, but she can't. She doesn't want to turn away from the warmth of the sun. But her mind can barely put two and two together. So, hearing Sokovian, hearing what sounds like her brother and then seeing some blurred features above her that look so familiar just--]
Am I dead?
[A small, dry whisper manages to creep out between her lips. She doesn't know if it's in English or Sokovian or some mash up of both.
Insufferable brother. It sounds like the way he'd greet her in the afterlife.]
[the years that have gone by have robbed pietro of something that used to be such a trait of his: his humor. wanda was always the reasonable one, the responsible one. he had to very quickly learn to be all those things that went against his personality.
so to state something as downtrodden as the fact that his sister should be dead goes hand-in-hand with that growth.
he sits back on his haunches, and he allows himself but a second to leave her side to quickly grab a water bottle, situated back at her side in the blink of an eye.]
Come, sit up a bit. You need to drink this.
[a hand wraps around the back of her neck, careful, urging her to pull herself upright.]
—you were killed by Ultron. So many years ago. [his voice is quiet, his tone grim, as he moves the lip of the bottle close to her mouth.] You appeared so suddenly, and I had to find you.
[Nothing makes sense, even if she were dead. Pietro, Ultron--she died? Then? It doesn't ring as right, none of it, and she simply stares at him even as she's forced to sit up. Her body feels full of lead. She ignores the water bottle in favor of trying to come to terms with what she's seeing.]
I didn't. Not then, not--
[Not in this universe. Wanda feels her stomach flip. In the end, she was just so ashamed, so tired, so finished. All she wanted was home. Home was a thing she lost so long ago.
But here he is.
Cautiously, she lifts a hand to touch his cheek. The stains on her fingertips almost make her pull back and away, but there's just a tremble to her hand before making contact with his skin.]
[he sees that her self-preservation is second place to focusing on him. pietro pulls the water bottle away, setting it aside on the ground, and allows for her hand to touch his cheek. the muscles on his face tighten, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing—tears start to well in them as he reaches up to hold her hand in his.]
It's me.
[and it's you.
his chest hurts, somewhere between confused and elated, grieving and relieved.]
I don't understand. [he starts, half-muttered, his voice wet, tears falling.] How— How you are here. Alive. Is it a dream, Wanda?
[between the two of them, he's never been the one to connect the dots first. in this case, it's fair; it's her magic that led her here, so many years of chaos magic being nurtured by the darkhold and everything that she went through. pietro only has his speed, nothing that can push him into several universes to meet her again. he would have, otherwise.]
[He looks a little older, to her eyes. And of course he would, if their roles had been reversed. He would have lived through more. Fought through more. Carried the weight of being one half of a whole. He weeps and she begins to as well, not noticing her own tears as she shakily wipes his with her thumbs.]
If it's a dream, I don't ever want to wake up. [Not this time. Her voice is still soft, hardly above a whisper, but she manages a smile. It doesn't matter what this is.]
I've missed you. Every single day.
[He's the rest of her. Her hands leave his face so she can open her arms, too weak to physically pull him to her.]
[the sentiment is exactly the same for pietro; not a single day went by that he didn't think of wanda. he had had talks with steve, with vision, with nat and sam—about her, about how his pain didn't lessen with the passing of weeks. effectively a half of a whole, with little to help him feel alive again in a meaningful way.
there was comradeship, missions, a sense of found family with the avengers, but never truly being accepted by the world outside of it. tony stark still refused to acknowledge him, and the world wasn't satisfied with his joining the avengers; his speed would cause a lot of trouble in missions, and the government constantly benched him. a void so deep, pietro could only try to fill it with all the vices the world could give.
it took the snap to sober him up. it took losing nat and losing steve, to be better.
here, now, he can be someone he hadn't been in years—pietro maximoff, twin brother.
his arms are immediately wrapped around wanda, a hand pressed to the back of her head. his shoulders tremble and he keeps shaking his head from side to side, against her head.]
You're not allowed to leave. I'll look after you, okay? There's — there's so much to tell you. Don't leave me again. I'll do anything you tell me to do. Deal?
[She's more aware of her own tears as she clings to him, fingers gripping the back of his shirt as she both cries and wants so desperately to comfort him.
Everything he says are things she'd say to him, and it squeezes her heart so tightly in her chest she worries it might pop.]
I'll never leave you. Never again.
[They should have stayed together.]
I'm so sorry, Pietro. So sorry.
[Because she knows the grief he must have felt. The same she had. She'd never want that for him.]
[pietro thinks the same, that they should have stayed together. wanda had died because she became overwhelmed by ultron's bots; then ultron swept in, killed her, too. he was too far away—he wasn't fast enough to get to her.
he pulls back after a moment longer, but his hands remain tightly on her arms, as if afraid she will disappear before him.]
Don't do that. Listen, [one hand reaches up to clean up her face from the tears] you're very weak now. The doctor said you should drink something when you wake up. Let's start with water, and then— and then we'll go from there, okay?
[with the same hand, he brings up the water bottle again.]
We'll get you settled.
[he can't help it, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek.]
[Crying probably doesn't help when she's supposed to be hydrating. She keeps her hands on him where she can, face damp with tears, but she's shameless in the way she tries to nuzzle her face against his when he kisses her cheek.]
Okay. Okay, Pietro.
[She needs his help to drink, small sips from that bottle, lips so dry she can feel them crack when she opens them to drink. There's a heavy breath when she's had all she can take, but her voice is a little less raspy when she speaks next, looking at Pietro with wet eyes.]
[he's happy that she does drink from the bottle, and he helps in keeping it steady until she's pulling away from it. small steps—he tells himself. there will be time for her to drink and eat and regain her strength.
the fact that she's woken up? that's big.]
Outskirts of Sokovia. [he scowls] Or what was our home. After Novi Grad was destroyed, the other countries said they would help in taking Sokovians in. That lasted only a few years before they were trying to push our people out.
[it's cruel to be seen as 'refugees' when they didn't start the war in sokovia decades ago. why couldn't they just stay?]
There are many camps with people that have nowhere to go. I go around helping them where I can.
[ah, this reminds him. he reaches to his side and brings to her the crown he had found on her head.]
[As he speaks, her hand finds his and she entwines their fingers together, holding tightly. So, Novi Grad fell in this universe, too. That seemed to be a common trends in the universes she peeked at. She's about to tell him that of course he's helping, he couldn't do otherwise, but the crown steals the words from her tongue.
A twist of free her fingers has the crown disappearing in a shimmer of red and she would very much like to not talk about that.]
I can forgive the small bed, then. But you can still get in beside me.
[his eyes widen as the crown disappears from his hand in a bright dusting of scarlet. he looks at wanda, but finds that she seems to be blatantly avoiding his eyes after the fact.
he frowns, but he cannot deny his sister.]
It is not even a bed. [after a moment, he figures the best way to sit in the bed with her in it, too.] That has never stopped us before, though.
[and once in, he will wrap his arms around wanda, keep her close; similar to how he would hold her when they were kids after her nightmares, or back in the hydra facility, when she first got her powers and couldn't shut out the thoughts of everyone. he would think of really annoying songs to occupy her mind, his head pressed against hers, so all she could hear was his horrible mind-interpretation of them.
he does the same now, his head pressed against hers.]
[She's grateful he remembers her well enough to know not to press. Not now. She feels incredibly small in his arms, and it's a comfort to let him simply keep her safe. She curls in against him, eyes closing.]
I will help you with everything you need help with, whether you like it or not.
[Tired and weak as she is, she can still snake a hand to pinch him. Right between his hip and lowest rib.]
I'll even allow you to be annoying.
[Because she missed every aspect of him, even the parts that made her want to yell now and then.]
[he winces (it doesn't really hurt) at the pinch, but he can't help break into laughter after the fact. his hand is heavy against her back, moving up and down in comforting strokes.
this has to be a miracle.
maximoffs haven't had a chance at good things in life, so he's wary about this gift. and yet, despite his conflicting feelings, he feels so whole—so complete.]
Even if it means being annoying in asking you about what happened?
[he takes a deep breath, keeps it there in his chest, and then exhales. he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.]
I don't understand. I found you under a pile of rubble. Big rocks. You were covered by them, and I thought you were dead again, but you have no injuries. You are dressed like this, and— [he takes on of her hands, his thumb pressing against her fingers and straightening them out] your fingers stained in black. We traveled back in time, the Avengers, to stop Thanos. But you are not the young sister I knew.
[She doesn't deserve this happiness. This--what, third, fourth chance? Not after all she's done. But there's no way in hell she'd give this up. She already knows that.]
You saved me from the rubble again. [Well, maybe it was her, back when they were under the remains of their home, but she'll call it even. She opens her eyes to watch him touch her fingertips, black like ink. The shame bubbles up again.]
I'm not the Wanda you lost. But I'm still your sister.
[Still his twin.]
No matter... what I tell you, you understand, don't you? Any... version of me, will always love you.
[Even in the infinite multiverse, if she exists, she knows he must have at some point, too.]
[wanda is opening up a bit, even if she is mostly hesitant, and it becomes clear why she is hesitant. she's afraid, it seems, of whatever he may think of her once she is done explaining.
the black ink of her fingers rubs on his skin, but pietro is not afraid. he isn't afraid of who his sister is. could never be.]
It actually hurts my feelings a little that you would think I wouldn't understand.
[he threads their fingers together—because their lives will forever be intertwined.]
I could never not love you, Wanda. Even when you are not the sister I lost.
[Wanda can't say when the tears started again, but hearing the reassurance from her brother hits deep. She grips his hand. Strange to think that this universe's version of her is dead and gone, but there's nothing to be done about it now.]
In my universe, you're the one that died all those years ago. I lost you.
[Though she has a hundred questions, since he mentioned time travel, that must mean--]
[he exhales a croak of a laugh at the thought that he died in her universe.]
What are you saying, that the one in charge of universes is afraid of us being together? I told you we would be scary after we got our powers.
[besides, he is starting to feel like himself a little more—to cope with jokes. what can he say? the fact that wanda is here brings forth the playful nature of his that he buried deep in his grieving.
at her question, pietro nudges her with his shoulder so she can see the inside of his jacket—which he pulls at—showing the stitching of the avengers' symbol. is he wearing his jacket the other way around? yes.]
Certified Avenger. Got benched a lot by the government, 'cause they thought I was a menace. But Steve and Nat treated me well. [a small shrug] I had nowhere else to go.
[That little A makes her feel sick. She covers up the urge to succumb to that feeling by snaking her arm inside his jacket to wrap around him, her own limbs cold and heavy despite the proximity.]
That sounds familiar. [There's a small smile of her own, but it fades quickly.] Natasha is dead. Steve is gone. Is that the same here, too?
Exactly that. I guess some things stayed about the same.
[he drops a hand atop her head, counts the number of people they've lost.]
Stark is dead, finally. He dies a hero so I'm weird for still hating him. Poor Vision got destroyed by Thanos. Thor's left for space. You know what is strange? Sometimes Scott Lang sends me text messages to check up on me. You know, Ant-man? Peter Parker's aunt let me crash at their apartment once. Kid was on a trip in Europe, so there was space...
[Some of that sounds like her universe, others not so much. The mention of Vision makes her chest ache, and before she can wonder if he's in some lab somewhere, she stops herself. It doesn't matter. It's not her Vision in this universe.
But this is her Pietro.]
I'm sorry.
[She hugs him, somehow managing to get closer despite already essentially being inside his jacket.]
[us, now. again. his arms wrap around her and he lets his hands rest on her back, locked together as if to say he refuses to let her go. he's flexible, though, should she want to move; he would never pin her down, nor keep her from going wherever she desired. pietro just wishes she wouldn't disappear entirely.]
Why are you apologizing?
[it all feels a little silly, now.]
Do I get to know what happened to you? How you got into "my" universe?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
▶ redchaos
in his time with the avengers, after his sister's untimely death, pietro's known nothing but the urge to keep going forward—even if it is at his own expense. when tony stark and steve rogers split up the avengers, the decision was easy for him. his hatred for tony was always fervent and open, unapologetic, even after pietro had taken responsibility for his and his sister's actions in sokovia.
earth was attacked by aliens, the universe in disarray as half its living beings disappeared from existence. it did not bother pietro as much, as he watched others get dusted, because nothing could carve a hole as deep as the loss of his sister years before.
still, human ingenuity prevailed, the stones assembled, thanos' plan undone. the problem is that with tony stark's sacrifice came feelings he wasn't (and still isn't) ready to parse; with natasha gone, he can't really look at clint in the eye anymore—he visits the family once in a while, but the man is clearly a shell of his former self; with steve disappearing, it left pietro with nowhere to go. there is nothing that ties him to others, nothing that gives him a sense of purpose, other than helping his people in what land remains of sokovia.
disconnected from the world as he is, he was not prepared for a feeling he had thought lost to return to him. wanda, is the first thing his mind goes to, and he speeds across the land, mountains, and cities trying to find her. it is amidst the rubble, and despite the impossibility of it all, that he finds her—a crown on her head, fingertips washed out in black paint, life seeming to have been squeezed right out of her.
but she breathed still.
pietro has since brought her to one of the camps in the outskirts of what used to be sokovia, where people know him well. she will awaken inside one of the tents; shadows loom across it, painted onto the fabric by the crackling bonfire outside, trinkets and boxes surrounding the makeshift bed. bed covers, duvets, all with the intention of replicating a mattress proper. he would go and look for something better for her, more pillows perhaps, but he sits instead, a hand holding tightly onto hers, lingering on the pulse he feels under her skin. pietro feels that he can breathe again after ten ugly years, but his thoughts are in disarray. his eyes keep glancing back at the crown he's removed from her head and put on top of a crate, and he wonders about the bags under her eyes, her dry lips. how much older she looks (he does, too), at how drained she looks.
it's been a few weeks now, and though doctors have come to see her, all they've said is wait.
pietro, the worst person at being patient in the world, has done just that: wait. he squeezes her hand tighter in his, kisses at her knuckles, and whispers a plea in the form of her name, warmth on her skin as he keeps his forehead against her hand, hunched over in this small space.]
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Shame, because she's seen monsters. Worked alongside monsters. Killed monsters. To become one, to let the Darkhold take hold of those dark parts of her and make them fester, feels like an insult to everyone she's lost. Her parents. Her brother. Vision. The boys. Why would she want to come back from that and face the living who don't know her and lack any sympathy? Some, rightly so.
The second, stronger thing she feels is pressure around her hand. It's warm and familiar and she'd know it anywhere. Pietro. It's dull, at first. A light on the horizon. But as she comes to, returns to herself, she can feel him. She can hear him.
Her fingers move within his grasp before her eyes move behind her closed eyelids, brow furrowed before she slowly cracks her eyes open. Her vision is blurred, mouth dry, but there's some sort of attempt to speak that comes out as a confused noise.]
no subject
pietro draws closer, on his knees and over his sister, his thumb gentle against her cheek.]
Wanda?
[his chest feels heavy, like there's a dam about to burst. his sister had died in the altercation with ultron—she was killed, and for years he carried the burden of being the only remaining maximoff in this world. he doesn't understand how she is here, now, or what it all means, but this is his sister. he feels it, in the way he doesn't feel so hollow, so empty, anymore.
it's been a while since he's talked in english, which is why his words come out in sokovian.]
Open your eyes, Wanda. It's me, your insufferable brother. Please.
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Am I dead?
[A small, dry whisper manages to creep out between her lips. She doesn't know if it's in English or Sokovian or some mash up of both.
Insufferable brother. It sounds like the way he'd greet her in the afterlife.]
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[the years that have gone by have robbed pietro of something that used to be such a trait of his: his humor. wanda was always the reasonable one, the responsible one. he had to very quickly learn to be all those things that went against his personality.
so to state something as downtrodden as the fact that his sister should be dead goes hand-in-hand with that growth.
he sits back on his haunches, and he allows himself but a second to leave her side to quickly grab a water bottle, situated back at her side in the blink of an eye.]
Come, sit up a bit. You need to drink this.
[a hand wraps around the back of her neck, careful, urging her to pull herself upright.]
—you were killed by Ultron. So many years ago. [his voice is quiet, his tone grim, as he moves the lip of the bottle close to her mouth.] You appeared so suddenly, and I had to find you.
[his throat tightens]
I found you, sister.
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I didn't. Not then, not--
[Not in this universe. Wanda feels her stomach flip. In the end, she was just so ashamed, so tired, so finished. All she wanted was home. Home was a thing she lost so long ago.
But here he is.
Cautiously, she lifts a hand to touch his cheek. The stains on her fingertips almost make her pull back and away, but there's just a tremble to her hand before making contact with his skin.]
Pietro.
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It's me.
[and it's you.
his chest hurts, somewhere between confused and elated, grieving and relieved.]
I don't understand. [he starts, half-muttered, his voice wet, tears falling.] How— How you are here. Alive. Is it a dream, Wanda?
[between the two of them, he's never been the one to connect the dots first. in this case, it's fair; it's her magic that led her here, so many years of chaos magic being nurtured by the darkhold and everything that she went through. pietro only has his speed, nothing that can push him into several universes to meet her again. he would have, otherwise.]
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If it's a dream, I don't ever want to wake up. [Not this time. Her voice is still soft, hardly above a whisper, but she manages a smile. It doesn't matter what this is.]
I've missed you. Every single day.
[He's the rest of her. Her hands leave his face so she can open her arms, too weak to physically pull him to her.]
Pietro, come here.
no subject
there was comradeship, missions, a sense of found family with the avengers, but never truly being accepted by the world outside of it. tony stark still refused to acknowledge him, and the world wasn't satisfied with his joining the avengers; his speed would cause a lot of trouble in missions, and the government constantly benched him. a void so deep, pietro could only try to fill it with all the vices the world could give.
it took the snap to sober him up. it took losing nat and losing steve, to be better.
here, now, he can be someone he hadn't been in years—pietro maximoff, twin brother.
his arms are immediately wrapped around wanda, a hand pressed to the back of her head. his shoulders tremble and he keeps shaking his head from side to side, against her head.]
You're not allowed to leave. I'll look after you, okay? There's — there's so much to tell you. Don't leave me again. I'll do anything you tell me to do. Deal?
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Everything he says are things she'd say to him, and it squeezes her heart so tightly in her chest she worries it might pop.]
I'll never leave you. Never again.
[They should have stayed together.]
I'm so sorry, Pietro. So sorry.
[Because she knows the grief he must have felt. The same she had. She'd never want that for him.]
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he pulls back after a moment longer, but his hands remain tightly on her arms, as if afraid she will disappear before him.]
Don't do that. Listen, [one hand reaches up to clean up her face from the tears] you're very weak now. The doctor said you should drink something when you wake up. Let's start with water, and then— and then we'll go from there, okay?
[with the same hand, he brings up the water bottle again.]
We'll get you settled.
[he can't help it, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek.]
Let your big brother take care of you.
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Okay. Okay, Pietro.
[She needs his help to drink, small sips from that bottle, lips so dry she can feel them crack when she opens them to drink. There's a heavy breath when she's had all she can take, but her voice is a little less raspy when she speaks next, looking at Pietro with wet eyes.]
Where are we?
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the fact that she's woken up? that's big.]
Outskirts of Sokovia. [he scowls] Or what was our home. After Novi Grad was destroyed, the other countries said they would help in taking Sokovians in. That lasted only a few years before they were trying to push our people out.
[it's cruel to be seen as 'refugees' when they didn't start the war in sokovia decades ago. why couldn't they just stay?]
There are many camps with people that have nowhere to go. I go around helping them where I can.
[ah, this reminds him. he reaches to his side and brings to her the crown he had found on her head.]
This. I found it on you.
[and he has so many questions.]
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A twist of free her fingers has the crown disappearing in a shimmer of red and she would very much like to not talk about that.]
I can forgive the small bed, then. But you can still get in beside me.
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he frowns, but he cannot deny his sister.]
It is not even a bed. [after a moment, he figures the best way to sit in the bed with her in it, too.] That has never stopped us before, though.
[and once in, he will wrap his arms around wanda, keep her close; similar to how he would hold her when they were kids after her nightmares, or back in the hydra facility, when she first got her powers and couldn't shut out the thoughts of everyone. he would think of really annoying songs to occupy her mind, his head pressed against hers, so all she could hear was his horrible mind-interpretation of them.
he does the same now, his head pressed against hers.]
You have to help me figure this out, Wandechka.
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I will help you with everything you need help with, whether you like it or not.
[Tired and weak as she is, she can still snake a hand to pinch him. Right between his hip and lowest rib.]
I'll even allow you to be annoying.
[Because she missed every aspect of him, even the parts that made her want to yell now and then.]
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this has to be a miracle.
maximoffs haven't had a chance at good things in life, so he's wary about this gift. and yet, despite his conflicting feelings, he feels so whole—so complete.]
Even if it means being annoying in asking you about what happened?
[he takes a deep breath, keeps it there in his chest, and then exhales. he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.]
I don't understand. I found you under a pile of rubble. Big rocks. You were covered by them, and I thought you were dead again, but you have no injuries. You are dressed like this, and— [he takes on of her hands, his thumb pressing against her fingers and straightening them out] your fingers stained in black. We traveled back in time, the Avengers, to stop Thanos. But you are not the young sister I knew.
So how are you here?
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You saved me from the rubble again. [Well, maybe it was her, back when they were under the remains of their home, but she'll call it even. She opens her eyes to watch him touch her fingertips, black like ink. The shame bubbles up again.]
I'm not the Wanda you lost. But I'm still your sister.
[Still his twin.]
No matter... what I tell you, you understand, don't you? Any... version of me, will always love you.
[Even in the infinite multiverse, if she exists, she knows he must have at some point, too.]
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the black ink of her fingers rubs on his skin, but pietro is not afraid. he isn't afraid of who his sister is. could never be.]
It actually hurts my feelings a little that you would think I wouldn't understand.
[he threads their fingers together—because their lives will forever be intertwined.]
I could never not love you, Wanda. Even when you are not the sister I lost.
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In my universe, you're the one that died all those years ago. I lost you.
[Though she has a hundred questions, since he mentioned time travel, that must mean--]
You stayed with the Avengers?
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What are you saying, that the one in charge of universes is afraid of us being together? I told you we would be scary after we got our powers.
[besides, he is starting to feel like himself a little more—to cope with jokes. what can he say? the fact that wanda is here brings forth the playful nature of his that he buried deep in his grieving.
at her question, pietro nudges her with his shoulder so she can see the inside of his jacket—which he pulls at—showing the stitching of the avengers' symbol. is he wearing his jacket the other way around? yes.]
Certified Avenger. Got benched a lot by the government, 'cause they thought I was a menace. But Steve and Nat treated me well. [a small shrug] I had nowhere else to go.
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That sounds familiar. [There's a small smile of her own, but it fades quickly.] Natasha is dead. Steve is gone. Is that the same here, too?
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[he drops a hand atop her head, counts the number of people they've lost.]
Stark is dead, finally. He dies a hero so I'm weird for still hating him. Poor Vision got destroyed by Thanos. Thor's left for space. You know what is strange? Sometimes Scott Lang sends me text messages to check up on me. You know, Ant-man? Peter Parker's aunt let me crash at their apartment once. Kid was on a trip in Europe, so there was space...
[anyway, he's kind of rambling.]
Nat and Steve hit hard, yeah.
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But this is her Pietro.]
I'm sorry.
[She hugs him, somehow managing to get closer despite already essentially being inside his jacket.]
It's us, now. We won't lose one another again.
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Why are you apologizing?
[it all feels a little silly, now.]
Do I get to know what happened to you? How you got into "my" universe?
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not her insulting him for not being a witch
maybe he wouldn't have died if he were, just sayin
cold, but true
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