Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was strange to be without him. Wanda was constantly turning her head to look beside her, expecting to see his familiar face bearing a cocky grin, but he was never there. She had never walked through the world alone before. Pietro had always been by her side, holding her hand and guarding her back, but now, whenever Wanda reached out beside her—expecting a familiar warmth or laughter—all she found was an empty space where he used to be.

She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to his absence, this gnawing and gaping hole in her side, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Pietro was half of her. They had been born into this world together and it didn’t seem right—it didn't seem possible for Wanda to live without him.

Pietro could have done it—lived without her. He had always been her better half: stronger than her, braver than her, and far more deserving of life than her. He’d deny it, but it was the truth. Wanda had always been so weak and fragile, so close to falling apart. The only reason she never had was because of him. He protected her, even when she didn’t want him to, and he remained by her side when there was no one else.

He was her constant. Or at least he had been.

When Wanda closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that he was still there. She could hear his laughter, see his smile, and even feel the remnants of his mind. His mind had been warm and bright. Wanda had felt free in its grasp, protected and safe, and with her eyes closed, Wanda could imagine that his mind was still there, right next to her and brimming with life and energy.

But it was just a fantasy, a faint shadow of the real thing, and Wanda knew that she’d never see her brother or feel his mind ever again.

Her abilities still allowed her to perceive the minds of others, however, and at that moment she could feel a deep sense of guilt emanating from the corridor and it was steadily approaching her room. An onslaught of images assaulted her senses: Pietro’s body riddled with bullets, Pietro’s body falling to the ground, and a ghostly voice saying, “You didn’t see that coming.”

Wanda winced, her hands flaring red, as she struggled to contain her powers.

She didn’t want these images. She didn’t want to feel what he felt, but his guilt was suffocating and it agonized her even more than her own.

“Are you going to come in?” Wanda called out, her nails digging into her palms as she finally quieted her powers. “Or are you just going to stand outside my door?”

A moment later, the door creaked open and Clint walked into the room, a heavy weight bearing down on his shoulders. “Hey, kid, how are you settling in?"

Wanda stared at him blankly. She focused all of her energy on walling off her mind, preventing Clint's emotions from seeping through to her.

"Yeah, that's what I figured." Clint sighed as he sat down on the mattress next to Wanda.

"I thought you retired," Wanda said after a long period of silence. "Don't you have a farm and a family to get back to?" Wanda couldn't stop the bitterness from rising in her throat at that. He still had a family to get back to whereas Wanda was completely alone.

"I did." Clint said. "I have, but I just wanted to check up on you. I know that … this can't be an easy transition for you."

Wanda scoffed, unable to hide the bitterness and anger in her heart. Her brother was ripped away from her—killed in a blaze of bullets; a "difficult transition" was a vast understatement.

"Look," Clint tried again. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through, but you don't have to go through it alone. You're an Avenger now and when you're part of the team, we have your back. If you ever need someone to listen or if you just need a break, the Barton farm will always welcome you."

Wanda was stunned by the offer. "You'd really welcome me into your home?" She asked, completely baffled. It wasn't too long ago that she was trying to destroy the Avengers, to rip them apart from the inside, and Clint was willingly offering his home, his family, to her.

He nodded his head, completely certain and his eyes didn't betray any doubt or mistrust. "You'd need to tell me first, but I'd gladly host you for a few days or more."

"I'll … consider it," Wanda said eventually. She didn't know whether to feel grateful or unnerved by Clint's incredible show of trust in her.

He nodded. He didn't say anything more, but neither did he make a move to leave the room. Wanda wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to speak or if he simply didn't know what to say, but the man's guilt was still radiating off of him. It was smothering in its intensity and a part of Wanda despised Clint for it.

The other part of her despised herself.

"It wasn't your fault." A grim expression crossed Clint's face and Wanda knew that he didn't agree. "I'm angry. Angry at the world, at him, but I don't blame you for his death. Pietro makes,"—she winced at the tense—"made his own decisions. And he chose to save you. Don't disrespect his memory by blaming yourself."

"Okay," Clint said evenly, his voice not betraying his emotions but his mind was an open book to Wanda and she knew her words only slightly abated his guilt, but it was something. "He was a good man, a hero."

Wanda already knew that, but it was nice to hear it said aloud. He had always been Wanda's hero; selfishly Wanda wished he had just stayed her hero instead of becoming a hero to the rest of the world.

"He would have loved to be an Avenger," Wanda sniffled.

He would have loved the continuous and brutal training sessions. He would have loved the mock battles and team competitions. He would have loved to be helping people in any way he could.

He had only ever wanted to help people. They might have gone about it the wrong way—volunteering for illegal experimentation wasn't the best idea in hindsight—but that's all they had ever wanted. It's all Pietro had ever wanted in his heart.

Their entire lives had been defined by their suffering and the death they had been surrounded by. They had thought they could defeat death, defeat the evils that plagued their country and liberate their people. Looking back, it had been an extremely foolish and naïve notion.

"Hey," Clint said, his hand on Wanda's back. "Your brother was an Avenger and he will always be one."

Wanda smiled at that, the corner of her lips slightly turning upwards.

"I know it doesn't mean much, but we'll never forget him."

"It means more than you think. Thank you."

"Anytime," Clint stayed for another few moments, but it became clear that the conversation had finally reached its end. He began to leave the room and as he did, he gave Wanda some parting words. "I'll get going now, but, remember, my home is always open to you."

Wanda nodded.

"Stay safe, kid. Don't let Nat beat you up too much in training."

Wanda forced out a laugh and Clint gave her a tight smile, before finally closing the door behind him and leaving her alone again. She laid down on the mattress and tried to ignore the empty loneliness that consumed her.

She didn't want to live in a world without Pietro in it, but the choice to survive had already been made for her. She had wanted to die that day, in the falling city, but the Vision had saved her. A part of her hated him for it, but she also knew that now, more than anything, she had to live. Because she had to live for two lives now if only because her brother never had the chance too.

Despite how much Wanda wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again, she had to try for Pietro's sake.