The Bravest of Them All (Pietro Maximoff)

Part 11: The Watcher

At least I have that ability in the afterlife. If that is what this is.

In this time, Steve comes jogging over and shares a mixed look of confusion and worry as he is witnessing what is happening. He's trying to look at whatever is making Pietro cry, whomever must be laying in his arms.

And I have never seen Steve look so confused.

But then I realize, he cannot see me. Clint is blocking Steve's view of my body from him. Then, the moment Clint stands, stepping away from Pietro and my body, Steve can see me perfectly.

I watch the moment his face turns into a much different expression from before he saw who the dead body is for himself. Steve seems as if he's in denial—as if he cannot comprehend who it is at first. I almost start to think he won't show any emotion because of his pride, but then I catch a few tears fall down his cheeks.

Then, he bends over and places his hands on his knees. He stares at the ground and more tears start streaming down. Clint makes his way over to Steve and places his hand on his shoulder. Then, they're both looking down at me. I can see the way they both mourn me. But that's why I wonder how they must feel.

I wonder if Steve remembers the time we talked at my birthday party, and if he's thinking about when he left me at the core. I wonder if he remembers the look we shared between each other, the conversation we had without words. I also wonder if Clint had imagined his daughter in my position. With my young face, it wouldn't be hard to paint the picture. I may have died too young. . .but I died a hero. Maybe they see that, or maybe they think that I am just a fallen solider from this war that unfortunately, is still not over.

I drift from this scene as I had the urge to scream—to scream out loud for whomever or whatever decided I was to die. I am angry that this is how I die. This is my end. This is all too damn tragic. . .and too damn painful.

If this is how Steve and Clint had did their best not to cry, I knew this would affect the rest of the team. I could picture Evelyn's face as she learns about the news. That was what sucked the most. . .the news.

Right before I could open my mouth to release my pain in a scream, somehow, a word enters my mind—a name. Weakly, it escapes my lips as a whisper, "Wanda."

I turn around, walking in the direction of the core to activate my teleportation. If I could cry in this state than I'm pretty sure I could teleport as well. And fortunately it did.

It only took a few seconds until I was at the core, beside her.

Wanda—the only person I would consider as a sister—is still fighting off a machine that had gotten close to the core. As she finishes it off, she slowly turns around, as if something had set her off. As if something pulled her into the direction that I had taken off to save Clint and the boy. It felt like I had left hours ago even though it was less then that time.

This is my fault. This is all my fault.

I left her alone because I felt that I had an obligation. I died because of it. She even assured me that I'd be fine, but I had a feeling that I shouldn't leave her. Just like my other feelings in the battle I didn't ignore. God, I hope she doesn't blame herself. Now, she just stands there—by herself—soon to be notified of my death.

Now, as she looks out into the distance, I wonder if she miraculously heard the cries from her brother. Her face turns soft, weakened from the determination she had while fighting Ultron's clones. It is almost like she knew what had happened. Maybe she received what Pietro was feeling through their "bond". Something was calling her, something was itching at her. There is an unsettlement in the air around her. That feeling reflects in her eyes.