Walk it Off

An Avenger's Movie-verse Story

By: Eboni

Summary: "If you die… walk it off." Pietro Maximoff thought that was a joke, until he died and had to follow through. Wanda's determined to be his caretaker, and learns that she's "walking it off" as much as Pietro is when it comes to accepting help, new family and change. (This is an alternate ending to the movie and the first in a series.)

Author's Note: I was kind of liberal with the ages of the twins (made them 19), just because I need them to be a little younger for some of the relationships to work out. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 1: Forty-Eight Seconds

Wanda Maximoff

For forty-eight gut-wrenching seconds I am alone.

A metal vice grip reaches into my chest and rips out my heart, squeezing it until it bursts. I can't breathe. I feel blood filling my chest, rushing up into my throat, spilling from my lips. I choke and gasp, dropping to my knees, clawing at my ribcage. Torn, I'm being ripped open. Pain, pain, it hurts, it burns, it's cold, I can't breathe, can't feel my legs, my arms. It's dark, cold…

And I'm alone.

The pain's gone. I can breathe. I touch my chest, and feel the cool fabric of my dress, whole, not torn. No blood. It's not dark or cold. The sun glares down at me through the ruins of the building. The machine I guard blows hot air, making me sweat, but I shiver.

/Pietro?/

Fear strikes me so hard I gasp, then gag. /Pietro!/ Emptiness. A void where he's supposed to be—where he always is. /Pietro! Pietro!/

I'm alone.

No. No. No.

This can't happen—it won't happen—I'm not alone—I won't be alone—I can't be alone—he's supposed to be there—always with me—I need him with me—he needs me with him—he can't be alone—we aren't supposed to be apart—I shouldn't have sent him away—he wanted to stay with me—he'd be okay if he stayed—it's my fault—did I kill him?—is he dead—he's not dead—no… no… no… no… No… NO… NONONONONO

My fists slam the ground, concrete cuts into my skin. I feel blood, mine, not his. Power—strength—shoots out of me, draining me, exploding into the ground. The earth quakes, a flash of red hurts my eyes as my head swims. Dizzy—am I bleeding?

I hear myself breathing, loud and ragged.

The ground stills beneath me.

Forty-five seconds…. Forty-six seconds… forty-seven seconds….

Pain grips me. The holes in my chest reopen. Ah—ah—ah—blood in my lungs, can't breathe… /Pietro?/

Can't breathe…

/Yes, yes, you can, Pietro. Yes, you can. I'll help you./

I don't know how to do it again, to send more energy. I stagger to my feet, wobbling for a few seconds before stumbling forward, out of the building. Who cares about Ultron's damn machine? /I'm coming, Pietro./

I feel him struggling. He's hurting, dying, choking on blood—but I also feel flesh trying to knit itself back together. His body's trying to heal itself. My legs become steadier with each step. I pick up speed until I'm running. Pietro's presence is a blazing beacon in my mind. I feel it as I near him. I round a corner and see him on the ground. The Avengers—Hawkeye and Captain America—kneel on either side of him, turning him onto his back, pressing down on wounds.

"Pietro!" I scream. I throw myself down beside him. His face is gray, his eyes stare heavenward. It's like he's dead, but no, I feel him. He's trying. His body's trying.

"Wanda, I'm so sorry," Captain America says. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I flinch away, leaning to place my cheek on Pietro torn, bloody chest.

"Pietro, please hear me brother. Please hear me," I murmur in Sokovian. "You cannot leave me here. You're all I have. I feel you still here. I feel you fighting. Don't let go. I won't let go. Your body is fast and strong. You can heal. You can heal."

"Wanda." Hands pull at me. "We're so sorry. He got in the way. He saved me and this kid here. He…"

"He's alive," I sit up, glaring at the Americans, blood sticky on my cheek and matting my hair. "You must get him to a doctor! Now! Take him!"

"Wanda…" Captain America starts.

"Now!" I shout. "I'll deal with Ultron! You take him, now! Save him!"

"He's…" Hawkeye tries to touch me again and I feel power stir within me.

"Lift my brother, take him to your craft and stop the bleeding," I say through gritted teeth, "or I will blame you for his death."

They stare, but say nothing else. Captain America lifts my brother in his arms like he weights no more than a child, and takes him away, hopefully heading for the carrier flown in by SHIELD. I rise, not caring that Hawkeye is still here.

"Your brother was a hero," Hawkeye says.

"My brother is a hero," I growl, and stalk forward, eyes following the falling star that is Ultron. The metal body crashes into a subway car. This story ends now. "Go away Clint Barton," I whisper. I feel him hear me, and then feel him retreat. I don't reach for Captain America's mind. I don't want to know that he thinks I'm crazy, that Pietro is dead.

I only want to feel Pietro's heart.

It's slow and faint, but it beats.

Forty-eight seconds.

For forty-eight seconds I was alone, and Ulton will suffer for all of those seconds before I end him. I enter the train, studying Ultron's prone form with a slow smile.

"Wanda," Ultron croaks. I tilt my head. Does he have the nerve to sound sad, remorseful? "If you stay here, you'll die."

"I died once today already," I drawl. "I was gone, torn apart, drowned in my own blood. Do you want to know what it felt like?"

Ulton's red eyes glow as he watches me, the robot's expression almost human. Not fearful, but resigned.

"It felt like this." I kneel beside him, extending a palm and pull with my power. His metal heart of wire, oil, and code breaks free from his chest plate and glides into my hand. The red glow from his eyes fades, the power cut, and the robot slumps.

I reach for Pietro with my mind. I want to feel his heart.

Slow. Faint. It beats once. Twice. Stops. Then beats again.

I wonder if anyone else besides me knows he's still alive.

Doesn't matter. If they don't, then he'll die again, but this time he won't be alone. The subway cart falls as the piece of Sokovia levitating above the earth plummets. We'll die together, Brother.

I close my eyes, concentrating on the awful sensation of falling, when it stops. Strong arms wrap around my body. I open my eyes, gazing into the red face of the Vision.

"You will not die today, Wanda Maximoff," the Vision says softly, "and neither will your brother."

At those words, exhaustion rolls over me. There's nothing left to keep me awake, my muscles are limp, tired. Dead. But the Vision said I won't die—Pietro won't die.

"Sleep." The whisper soothes me.

Forty-eight seconds…

…is all it takes for me to fall asleep.

Author's Note: What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Well, any way you liked it, let me know. Please review. Chapter 2's up, if you're still interested .