Wanda lay awake in the dim room, her body unmoving though her thoughts ran ceaselessly. The first faint light of dawn seeped through the blackout windows neither of them had bothered to ask Friday to close, painting the walls in muted grays. She could feel Lexi's warmth beside her, hear the soft rhythm of her breathing, but it felt distant—like a memory she wasn't part of.

Her mind was elsewhere, locked on a single face.

Pietro.

Wanda squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn't help. His laughter, his voice, the way he always teased he was older — By 12 minutes, but older—it was all there, replaying over and over. But he wasn't here. He would never be here again. That thought alone felt like it was carving her chest open, over and over, with no mercy and no end.

Her fingers clutched the photograph she had slipped under the blanket, the edges worn smooth from years of holding it. She couldn't look at it, not now. It was enough just to know it was there, his young face preserved in that tiny frame when hers felt like it was falling apart.

"Je mi to tak ľúto, Pietro," I'm so sorry, Pietro. She chocked out.. "Je mi ľúto, že som ťa nedokázala zachrániť. Je mi ľúto, že som nebola dosť silná." I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough

The bed creaked slightly as Lexi shifted beside her. Wanda barely noticed, too wrapped in her grief to react. She couldn't bring herself to care that the woman beside her was awake. Couldn't bring herself to do anything but stare blankly at the ceiling as her chest tightened again, the ache unbearable but too familiar now to surprise her.

"Wanda?". The voice broke through the fog, soft and uncertain. Wanda didn't move. She barely blinked. "Wanda, are you awake?"

Wanda turned her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "I'm awake," she said, her voice flat, hollow. It was a lie and not at the same time. She was awake, yes. But she wasn't there. Not really.

Lexi propped herself up on one elbow, her blue eyes studying Wanda's face. Concern etched into her features. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No." Lexi frowned but didn't press her. She leaned back, letting the silence settle over them. Wanda closed her eyes again, wishing Lexi would say something, anything, to drown out the memories. But Lexi was quiet as if she could sense that Wanda wasn't ready for words.

"I'm sorry," Wanda finally whispered. The words were weak, barely audible, but they felt heavy in the stillness of the room. "For what?" Lexi asked gently, sitting up fully now.

Wanda clenched her fists under the blanket, her voice shaking as she said, "For everything. For what I did. For—" She stopped, her throat tightening. She didn't have the strength to say it.

Lexi hesitated for a moment before shifting closer. "Wanda," she said softly, "you don't have to apologize to me. I already forgave you."

Wanda's lips parted, but no words came out. She turned her head away, staring at the far wall. "You shouldn't have," she murmured. Lexi tilted her head, confused. "Why not?"

"Because I don't deserve it," Wanda said, her voice breaking. "I don't deserve your kindness. Or your forgiveness. Or any of this." She sat up abruptly, clutching the photograph to her chest. "I destroyed everything. I destroyed you. I destroyed him."

The last word slipped out before she could stop it, and the weight of it crashed down on her all over again. She dropped her head into her hands, her body trembling with the effort of holding herself together.

Lexi moved closer, hesitating for only a moment before resting a hand on Wanda's shoulder. "You didn't destroy me," she said softly. "And Pietro... you didn't destroy him either."

Wanda flinched at his name, her shoulders tightening under Lexi's hand. "I might as well have," she whispered. "If I hadn't dragged him into this... if I hadn't—"

"You can't think like that," Lexi interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. "I agreed to join Hydra, it was my idea to join Ultron, I—". "Pietro made his own choices, Wanda" Lexi interrupted. "He chose to fight because he believed in you. In what you both stood for. That's not on you."

Wanda let out a shaky breath, but the words didn't penetrate the suffocating fog in her mind. "He's gone because of me. And now I don't even know how to—" Her voice broke, and she shook her head, struggling to finish the thought. "How do I keep going without him?"

Lexi shifted closer until their shoulders touched. Her presence was steady, and grounding, as if she were trying to anchor Wanda to the present. "I don't know what to say to make this easier," she admitted. "I wish I did. But I know this: Pietro wouldn't want you to give up. He loved you too much to want that."

Wanda bit her lip, her grip tightening on the photograph. "I wish... I wish I could believe that," she said her voice barely above a whisper.

Lexi hesitated, her eyes softening as she watched Wanda. Her own heart ached at the sight of her friend—no, the woman she cared for deeply, more than she'd ever admitted to herself—falling apart. "You don't have to believe it all at once," Lexi said gently. "But I'll keep reminding you until you do."

Wanda turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on Lexi. The morning sun streamed through the window, catching Lexi in its golden glow. The soft light kissed her features—her sharp cheekbones, the gentle curve of her lips, and the way her lashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks. But it was her eyes that held Wanda captive, their vivid blue reflecting the light in a way that made them seem almost otherworldly.

Wanda's chest tightened, the ache of grief momentarily eclipsed by the strange, inexplicable warmth blooming in her stomach. She couldn't look away. Something about Lexi seemed almost ethereal, like she didn't belong to the chaos of this world but was instead some beacon of calm amidst the storm. Wanda's mind struggled to process the thought, tangled in the haze of exhaustion and sorrow.

It wasn't her grief, and it wasn't her guilt—it was something quieter, something that felt foreign and unnameable. For a moment, all Wanda could do was marvel at how Lexi seemed to exist so effortlessly, even while carrying the weight of so much pain. And somehow, in the midst of everything, Wanda felt a flicker of warmth she couldn't quite place.

But it disappeared as quickly as it came, buried under the weight of her pain.

"I don't know if I can keep going," Wanda admitted, her voice trembling.

Lexi reached out, her hand brushing against Wanda's as she took the photograph gently from her grip. She studied it for a moment before placing it carefully on the bedside table. She recognized it from all the times Pietro sat and looked at it. "You don't have to know right now," she said. "Just take it one step at a time. And when you can't take the next step, I'll be here to help."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the dawn light growing brighter as it filtered through the curtains. Wanda stared at Lexi, her heart heavy but her breathing a little steadier. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to express the mix of emotions swirling inside her.

All she knew was that Lexi's presence, her unwavering kindness despite everything, was the only thing keeping her afloat.

As the silence stretched between them, Wanda's gaze drifted to Lexi. The sunlight was trapped in the loose strands of her messy bun making it look lighter than it was and her blue eyes almost seemed to glow. Wanda's eyes lingered on Lexi's face longer than she intended, tracing the curve of her jaw and the faint crease in her brow.

Her breath hitched as her gaze fell to Lexi's lips. They were slightly parted, soft and unassuming, and Wanda caught herself staring, unable to look away. When Lexi glanced back at her, offering a faint, lopsided smile that seemed to carry all the reassurance in the world, Wanda felt something stir—a fleeting warmth breaking through the storm of her grief. Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile in return before her gaze darted away, her heart pounding.

It had to be the exhaustion. That was the only explanation. Why else would her thoughts keep circling back to Lexi, or why her gaze lingered where it shouldn't? As Wanda dwelled on her feelings, Friday's voice breaks the silence.

"Miss Stark, Miss Maximoff. Captain Rogers is requesting your presence in the common room." Wanda stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. Lexi glanced at her, noting the sudden tension in her posture. "Hey," she said softly. "It's okay."

Wanda shook her head, her hands balling into fists in the blanket. "No, it's not," she said, her voice trembling. "They're going to... they're going to kick me out. After what I did, they'll have no reason to let me stay."

Lexi frowned, her brows knitting together. "Wanda, that's not true. They wouldn't—" "They should!" Wanda snapped, the words coming out harsher than she intended. She buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled as she added, "I deserve it. After everything... I wouldn't blame them."

Lexi reached out, placing a hand on Wanda's arm. "You don't have to face this alone," she said firmly. "Whatever happens, I'll stand by you." Wanda turned her head slightly, her red-rimmed eyes meeting Lexi's. For a moment, she wanted to believe her, wanted to hold on to the lifeline Lexi was offering. But the weight of her guilt was too much.

"Thank you," Wanda said quietly, her voice barely audible. She stood abruptly, pulling the blanket off and heading toward the door. "We should go."

Lexi watched her for a moment before grabbing her crutches and following. She didn't press Wanda further, knowing the grief and fear were too fresh. As they made their way to the common room, Wanda couldn't stop the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She was convinced the Avengers would turn her away, and for a brief moment, she thought she deserved it.

But when she glanced at Lexi beside her, steady and unwavering, a small part of her couldn't bring herself to care what the others thought. As long as Lexi was there, the darkness didn't feel quite so suffocating.