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Everyone told Pietro that he wasn’t to blame for Wanda’s death. They say that he isn’t the one who killed her, so he shouldn’t feel the burden. Sure. It wasn’t the responsibility of the boy who can move faster than a bullet to save his sister from getting killed by a bullet. That would be ridiculous.
Everyone blamed Pietro. No one would tell him that, but he knew that’s what they all really thought. They just kept repeating these empty phrases “It’s not your fault” in hopes that he would be done grieving. They hoped that he could finally be at peace with her death, so he would stop making them so uncomfortable about it. They hated being uncomfortable, they’d do anything to avoid it. No one actually cared that she had died, they just cared about their own ease of mind, which Pietro had ruined.
The worst was when Clint tried to comfort him. He so clearly didn’t understand what was going on, but thought he knew it all. He thought he was doing the right thing by trying to shift the blame off of Pietro, not realizing that he himself should be the one sharing it. If Clint hadn’t run out into the middle of the street, uncovered, unprotected, in the middle of a fucking battle, the gun wouldn’t have fired at him. If the bullets hadn’t been seeking Clint out, Wanda wouldn’t have panicked while trying to save him and accidentally redirect them at herself. “It’s not your fault, Pietro.” Clint would say with a mock sympathy that he thought was real plastered across his face.
“You’re right,” he wanted to scream, “ it’s yours. You should have been the one that died.” Instead he settles for running around the compound.
When you reach a certain acceleration, your body doesn’t feel real anymore. All your problems get lost behind you and the only thing you think about is the way the air parts to make way for you. Your heart swells and you feel important, like you’re real.
But Pietro can’t accelerate forever. He reaches a certain speed and he can’t go faster, no matter how much he tries. So instead of trying to run faster, he just stops. He then starts the process over again ad nauseam.
Tony tried to talk to him about it, “Look, kid, the weird running… It’s upsetting the rest of the Avengers. It’s-”
“Your bomb upset my family.” he lets his voice drip with resentment, “Your Avengers will recover.” Not giving Tony a chance to respond, he sped off. He ran away from the compound. The only reason he was staying close by was because he didn’t know anywhere else. But if he wasn’t wanted there why shouldn’t he go exploring. Go exploring without plan of ever returning.
Pietro ran. Giving himself time to think. Any time he was reminded of Wanda, he would start and stop again, like hitting reset. He tried to think of his future. He tried to think of what tomorrow would bring. He came up with nothing. He couldn’t imagine himself being an Avenger. He couldn’t imagine himself having a job. He couldn’t imagine himself falling in love, or starting a family, or going on vacation, or getting into arguments, or moving on.
He and Wanda used to talk about their plans for the future a lot. Or rather, Wanda would talk about her plans. She knew what she wanted. She wanted to fight for the powerless, whatever that meant career-wise. She wanted a husband, and two little boys. She wanted to live next door to Pietro. She wanted his kids and her boys to be really close. She wanted to be best friends with Pietro’s wife. She wanted to be self-sufficient, but still depend on other because that’s what she wanted to do. She wanted to be strong, and to be unwavering in her beliefs. She didn’t want to be scared anymore.
Pietro once told Wanda that the only future he could imagine for himself was one of an early grave. Her face fell and he realized he shouldn’t have said that. She told him she would never stop grieving for him if that happened. She made him promise he would do everything he possibly could to prevent that. He stayed alive for his sister.
But Wanda’s dead.
Pietro dropped to his knees. He only slightly registered the pain of the asphalt. Cars whizzed past him, honking and veering out of his way. He didn’t care. He wanted them to hit him. He craved the pain that would greet him before death would come.
It would break Wanda to know he was thinking this way. But she will never know. She will never know anything that he thinks. He could turn into a completely different person and Wanda would have no idea.
A hand wrapped around Pietro’s bicep and pulled him out of the road with a single tug. Pietro tumbled in the grass. He tried to push himself up but winced at the shards of broken beer bottles that pressed into his palms.
“Pietro Maximoff, is it?” He turned his head to see where the voice came from. A man whose skin was completely red, twice Pietro’s size and with an eerie grin sitting on his face. He didn’t look human.
He looked the man over skeptically. “Yes. How do you know that?”
The red chuckled, “I know a lot of things, my boy.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Do you wish that the world was different, boy?”
“I was under the impression that we all do.” Pietro was tempted to run away, but something about the man drew him in. He couldn’t resist listening to his gravelly voice.
“I’m Mephisto. I grant wishes like that.”
“Now why would you do that.” He tilted his head.
“I want the world to be a better place, Pietro.” He stepped closer. “And I think doing that by myself would be selfish.”
“So… if I wished that my sister hadn’t died, you could make that true?”
“All it takes is for you to shake my hand.” Mephisto’s smile curled, hand outstretched.
Pietro looked at the hand. “How do you know that my sister being alive would make the world better?
“It’s the first thing you thought of, which has got to count for something” He squatted, so his eyes were level with Pietro’s, “And Wanda is a strong moraled woman with no plans of killing herself. She could make some real change happen.”
Pietro was taken aback. But no, of course he knew. Mephisto knew how incredible Wanda was and how Pietro was willing to do anything to get her back. “Shake your hand?”
“And seal the deal.”
Pietro took a deep breath and placed his hand in Mephisto’s. His hand was hot and his grip firm.
Pietro’s vision snapped to a single white dot before disappearing.
Most people say that the only thing that’s constant about life is change. Wanda didn’t believe that. She refused to believe that, because her twin brother, quick to remind her that technically he was the older one, was her constant. They made it through hell together and came out the other side stronger for it. Of course in the back of her mind she knew that eventually they both would die. But she thought it would be when they both had grown old. Maybe there would be complications with health. But she always thought that the other would be able to accept that their twin was dying, and already be in the middle of their grieving process before they would die.
Pietro didn’t die from an accident. Nor mistake. Nor someone else’s cruel intentions. He sacrificed himself so that others could live. That was what Wanda admired and hated most about her brother. He cared more about the well being of others before himself.
Wanda can’t blame Clint, or the kid he was saving. It would be easy to think that their lives were traded. But Clint didn’t force Pietro to save him. He didn’t ask him to and he didn’t expect it either. Pietro’s death was his choice. But no matter how she twisted it, she couldn’t find comfort in that.
Pietro had so much to live for, but he never realized that. He had dreams and goals, but he was too stubborn to put them into words, so he thought he was purposeless. He tried to keep it a secret from her, that the only reason he hadn’t… done something drastic to himself… was because he refused to leave Wanda all on her own. But Wanda saw it. She can’t help but wonder if this self sacrifice was out of pure selflessness, or if it was because Pietro thought she would be able to recover if she thought it was.
She regrets not having a real conversation about this with him. She thought that by talking about her plans for the future, that he would realize that he does want to live. But she should’ve just told him directly. Because now she just has to live with not knowing what his final intentions were.
“Wanda?” Vision floats into the room. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He does this everyday, like clockwork. She usually turns him away, but today she’s unsure if she can handle it by herself.
She wiped the tears away from her eyes, accidentally smearing her makeup. “I… I don’t think... '' she averted her gaze from his kind eyes. It was hard to remember that he wasn’t real, he was just programmed to be that way. But maybe she didn’t want to remember. “Vis, could you hug me?” Wanda asked tentatively.
“Oh, of course.” He opened his arms and Wanda fell into him. She had felt so alone since arriving at the Avengers compound. They all thought they knew why Wanda was so upset, but it ran so much deeper than that. “I believe that talking about your feelings can help. If you would like to do that.”
“I just want to hug right now.” Wanda’s voice was muffled from being buried in his shoulder. “Some other time.” She promised.
“Of course.” Muttered Vision.
Maybe he knew. Maybe what Wanda thought was him trying to keep a secret was just him not wanting to talk about it. Maybe what he thought of in his last few seconds was what Wanda would think. Maybe he knew she’d lose sleep over trying to decipher his intentions. And maybe he was telling her that he wouldn’t have done it any other way. Maybe it was a mix of both, that he wanted his intentions to be selfless, but that intentions don’t matter as much as outcomes. Maybe he was trying to tell her that he never would’ve done it if it hadn’t been to save someone.
Wanda held this explanation close to her heart. She’d refuse to let it go. This real and this idealized Pietro would never leave her side.