"I am not losing you again," Wanda hissed under her breath. Her magic focused harder on Pietro's brain, to try and give it the shock it needed to restart itself. She had seen the subtle muscle twitches in his body. It was a start, but not nearly enough of a result to her liking.

Wanda was not worried about time constraints, her magic still lingered over the heroes' minds around the facility. They were engaged in fights with one another. Based on what she felt through her control, none had died as of yet. There was still time for that to happen. It was going to happen. It was one of the things she would have accomplished before she left.

"Maybe he needs more help," Helena suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm only touching an arm, that's not going to help. I might need to move to his head, or his heart."

Wanda pursed her lips. With some magic, she maneuvered Helena closer to Pietro. One hand went over his chest, where his heart was. The other was planted against the side of his face. Wanda was not fond of the black veins on her brother's body, but if they helped restore him...she would get used to the look.

A small part of Wanda hated herself. She was using Helena for her own gain. But wasn't that the original purpose of the girl? To use her as such? As a means to revive Pietro, no, Helena was never thought of for that use. She had been intended to help destroy the Avengers. One blast from her power...they wouldn't have lasted.

"Do not worry, we have plenty of time," Wanda said when she noticed Helena's nervous look.

"I'm not worried about time. I'm...I'm worried about what may come back if we get him back. Like I said I've...I've never done this before. My ability only makes people ill and kills them. It's not made to help pull people back from the dead."

"Today, we may have just proven that statement wrong." A wry smile touched Wanda's lips. The smile soon vanished when she noticed tears gathering in Helena's eyes. "What's wrong? Does this hurt you?"

"No...but it's going to hurt you."

Before Wanda could get the question out, Helena's hand latched onto Wanda's. The witch screamed as black veins crawled along her skin. Her chest began to tighten, her lungs felt as though hands squeezed them. Wanda stumbled back, eyes popping in horror at Helena's sudden action.

Helena remained by Pietro's body, the tears now freefalling down her face.

"W-why?" Wanda sputtered.

"You can't be talked down. You won't take the hexes off of them. You're so driven by revenge..."

Wanda lost her balance, collapsing to the floor. She felt the urge to throw up.

"T-take this away," Wanda croaked. With a cough, she felt sticky stuff on her lips. When she put her fingers to her mouth and pulled them back, she realized it was blood.

She was dying. And Helena was the reason.

"I-I'm sorry," Helena whimpered. "I—I can't."

"Helena." Wanda hacked again, spitting out more blood. "Helena."

"I didn't want to do it." Helena fell to her knees beside Wanda. The witch swatted at her when she tried to reach for her. "But you gave me no choice."

Wanda scoffed, though it sounded bubbly in her throat. "They manipulated you. They made you a tool for their own gain."

"So did you, trying to use me to bring back your brother."

"I didn't use you to kill the Avengers."

"Stop trying to justify your manipulation."

"Wow, I didn't see that coming," said Pietro. No, not the Pietro on the slab. Wanda's dead imaginary brother was back again. "I guess revenge is stronger than love."

Tears streamed down Wanda's cheeks. No, not tears—more blood. Helena was making her bleed from her eyes.

"You can try and fight it, they all do." Helena's voice was very hollow. "Not even with your power...you can't beat it."

Wanda started to formulate a rant, but Helena cut her off before she could start.

"Don't start with how betrayed you feel, Wanda. You threw the first punch."

I need to save myself. I need to. I don't know if my magic can reject her disease. It seemed, though the moments were long, that her magic could not reject the virus moving inside of her.

Wanda felt her magic waning in her system. She wasn't sure what would happen when she'd go. Would the Avengers continue to tear each other to pieces? Would the magic wear off on their minds?

She'd never get to know.

Wanda's limbs felt heavy, too heavy. She allowed Helena to close the distance and take the witch into her arms. Liquid dribbled down Wanda's nose—no doubt more blood.

"We should've walked away when we had the chance," Helena sniffed.

"I'm with the killer on this one," said Pietro. He stood, staring down at his dying sister disapprovingly. "You had the chance of happiness. Why didn't you take it? You aren't suicidal by any means!" Then the vision's eyes widened. "You're not...right?"

No, Wanda insisted to herself. I do not wish to die. Though, she could not deny that the first few days, weeks even, after her brother's death, her thoughts ventured deeper into the dark. Thoughts of ending her life had fleetingly crossed her mind. Her blooming revenge plot, however, put those to rest.

Black started to tint Wanda's vision. She could feel herself slipping away, her magic seemed to be going first. It had given up. She refused to.

"I wanted better. I didn't want this," Helena sobbed. Her curtains of hair hid her face.

"I wanted us," Wanda rasped. She gurgled, blood was about to shoot out like a geyser the next time she felt a cough come on.

"Then why didn't you choose us over this?"

"She was in too much pain," said Pietro, though Helena would never hear him. "Even you could not help her. That is why, isn't it, sister? She was not enough, even when you thought she might be."

"You are not helping," Wanda hissed. Helena looked around, befuddled.

"Hey, on the bright side, we'll get to be together again." Pietro walked to his corpse. "If they decide to house you here, perhaps they'll be nice enough to put you on a slab next to me. We can be neighbors."

The thought of seeing Pietro again brought a small comfort to Wanda. Yet, she wasn't guaranteed that privilege. Nobody that she knew came back from the dead and recounted what they had seen once their heart stopped beating, their brain stopped functioning. Who was to say that when she went, all she saw was nothing?

Wanda could barely turn her head at the morgue door opening. Clint Barton was the first to burst in, with Natasha Romanoff right behind him. The woman's face remained impassive, the man's face Wanda could not read.

"You hurt everything you touch," Wanda hissed at the two.

"Funny, the same could be said for you," Romanoff said coldly. Her eyes went a little higher up, to Helena. "How long?"

"Can you make it faster?" Helena pleaded. She refused to look Wanda in the eyes. "I've seen many suffer like this for hours. Make it end quicker for her."

The two exchanged looks before Barton nocked an arrow from his quiver. Pietro stood passively by his body, watching with his arms crossed. Wanda watched as the archer lined up his shot. She wondered where it would hit.

Barton fired.