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You awoke to shouting, all the voices easily discernible. In your sleepy haze you thought Tony and Steve were yelling at each other again, but then there were other voices—Clint, Natasha, Wanda Maximoff. You blinked at the ceiling trying to figure out what they were saying. Raising onto your elbows you felt the pain in your side, feeling another weak energy on the other side of the door.
Carefully you stood, stretching your neck and finding your entire body sore as if you’d just had an intense workout. You shuffled your feet towards the door and when you opened it you were speechless.
On the table you’d been sitting on a day earlier lay a bloody Pietro Maximoff. Above him was Dr. Cho’s machine and Wanda, holding his hand. The rest of the world fell away into a blur, mere voices on the edge of your sense. There was movement on both your sides but nobody could stop you as you approached Pietro.
Wanda was holding him, speaking to him in their foreign tongue with red, watery eyes.
There were bullet holes decorating his body, his silver and blue clothes stained red. His eyes were closed and his chest wasn’t moving. Wanda’s words became more desperate, her own breathing uneven. Her fingertips glowed red, a spidery energy drifting over her brother but nothing happened.
A hand pulled on your elbow backwards and Tony stepped in front of you. You shook off whoever was holding you and shoved Tony aside. There was a heavy rock in your stomach, your head still swam but you could feel something in Pietro. The energy of another person had never felt so concrete, so real—normal it was distant, like you had seen someone walk into another room and your mind connected the dots that there was a person there. But this time you could feel the way Pietro’s energy began to fade. You’d never been around anyone that was dying—never been there when someone had died but you knew that was what was happening to Pietro.
As two hands grabbed onto you you never took your eyes off of the silver-haired man. “It’s fading,” you muttered. Fading fast.
Wanda looked up at you, eyes wide. “Help him,” she begged. No, ordered. Her tone was tight. “Help him. Use it.”
You shook your head, still dizzy. “I can’t.”
“I can,” Tony stated. This time as you pushed away the hands on you they were shoved back with a barrier. Whoever it was grunted, and you placed a hand on Pietro’s chest. It wasn’t warm or radiating heat as he had before.
Wanda set her hand over yours, eyes red. The spidery energy that had been winding around her brother now travelled up your arm and then something within you snapped. The shock ran through up your arm and into your mind, and from there down to your heart. It didn’t hurt, didn’t feel like anything more than a static jolt but it left just as quickly as it had come. It moved through the palm of your hand and into Pietro and in less than a second of it hitting him he gasped for air. The wounds in his body sealed, the bloody holes becoming clean pale skin.
“Pietro,” Wanda said, holding his head with both hands as he opened his eyes. “Pietro!”
“Wanda,” he breathed. His eyes were wide as he gasped for air, arms trying to lift but barely able to get an inch off the silver table. You watched as Wanda hugged her brother and looked up at you, sending you a small nod.
“How in the hell…?” Clint asked. You blinked and turned, realizing the Avengers stood behind you. Clint, Natasha, Tony, Steve, Sam, and Thor watched you, each other them bloodied and dirtied almost more than Pietro was.
“Did you win?” you asked weakly. There was no way to explain what you’d just done, and you were having trouble believing they were even standing before you.
“More or less,” Tony told you. His eyes were still on the gasping Pietro.
“What did you just do Y/N?” Steve asked. His brow was furrowed, the fatigue from battle not even visible on him now.
Your eyes darted between all of them, each of them seeming to think what you’d just done was more bad than good. Your cheeks were turning redder by the second and the dizziness that was overcoming you before vanished with that jolt from Wanda. Unable to deal with the pressure from the Avengers you shouted, “Sam can do latte art!”
The only one to turn towards the Falcon was Tony, who gave him an appreciative nod. As Tony’s eyes fell back on you, his face weary but still holding his playful attitude you took note of how tired each of them looked, especially Pietro. You turned to see the speedster laying his head back on the table after giving his sister another hung, eyes closed and breathing turning normal.
“Maybe we should put him in an actual bed,” you suggested. You faced Tony. “Along with the rest of you.”
Steve opened his mouth to object but when he looked to his team, to the limping Clint and hunched over Natasha he nodded. The only one that looked capable of doing anything was Thor. Steve nodded as he looked to Pietro and Wanda, maybe deciding that everyone had had enough for the day. You couldn’t believe how quickly everything had gone as each of the Avengers gave you stern yet hopeful looks as they left one by one. Thor picked up Pietro and led him to the room you were just in, with Wanda following quickly.
Suddenly you were alone with Steve. You looked at him over your shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” he replied.
“But we won?”
It took Steve a moment before he moved on. “We’ll have to talk about this later.”
By this you didn’t think he meant Ultron. By this, he meant you bringing Pietro back to life. That was what you had just done, wasn’t it? Brought him back from the brink of death somehow? With Wanda’s help?
You looked towards the door as Thor stepped out, wondering if Wanda had manipulated your abilities to her own advantage. Not that you were mad if she had; you wanted Pietro to live just as much as her—and you barely knew him. “I’ll go see if they need anything.” You thrust a thumb towards the door and began to back towards it. Steve didn’t stop watching you until the door shut, and you were in the room with Wanda and Pietro.
Pietro lay on the bed atop the ruffled comforter and sheets. Next to him kneeled Wanda, no longer as distressed as before but still worried. She held Pietro’s hand in hers as his chest slow rose and fell gently, a reassuring indication that he was still alive. You hadn’t dreamed any of this up.
“How is he?” you asked. What else was there to say? Wanda had nearly lost the most important person in the world.
“He will recover,” she answered, eyes never leaving her brother.
You nodded as silence fell. Scratching the back of your head you inched forward but still kept a large gap between yourself and the twins. “Um, do you…”
“Water,” Wanda said. “Please. He will need water when he wakes.”
“Right, on it.” You pointed a finger at her spun on your heel and into the medical bay, making your way to the elevator. When the doors opened Tony and Clint were leaning against the back glass, eyes meeting yours. You hesitated. “I’ll take the next one.”
“Come here,” Tony said, waving a hand at you. He stepped forward and pulled you inside by the shoulder, pressing the back of his other hand against your forehead. “What’s going on? How do you feel?”
You pushed him away, swatting at his hands as he tried to keep you in place. The elevator doors shut. “I’m doing fine—just fine. Better than fine…actually.” As you took a moment to consider how you felt you realized you felt great. There was no fatigue, no dizziness, nothing now.
“You sure?” Clint asked. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed tight across his chest. You thought he was only staying in place because he was too tired to move.
Tony pointed a finger at you. “Last time we saw you you nearly died.”
“Okay I have a little pain,” you admitted, pressing your hand over a wound. A lie, actually. The elevator was bumpy as it moved to another floor, one that was much less damaged by killer robots. Even the jostling wasn’t bothering you. “But I really am feeling better.”
Tony looked you up and down with pursed lips. Before either of them could say another word the doors opened up behind you and you took a quick step back to escape. “You two should go sleep. I’m gonna stay with Pietro and Wanda and make sure everything is…okay.” Or at least as okay as it could get.
Clint raised his head and crossed one ankle over the other but didn’t say anything. Just as the doors began to shut again Tony skipped out to join you in the kitchen. With little escape from any probing questions you headed for the fridge. You pulled out a bottle of water and headed back for the elevator.
“So you’re looking after the speedster?” Tony asked casually. He held his hands behind his back and watched the elevator numbers move up.
“And Wanda,” you answered. “Oh, I should grab her some water too.” You hurried back to the fridge and grabbed another bottle. Looking at Tony you stuck one under your arm and grabbed an extra. When you made it back to him the elevator doors opened and you passed Tony the bottle. “Here.”
“For me?”
“You look like shit,” you told him, resisting a grin. The elation that everyone had made it back alive was starting to get to you. You were even starting to feel giddy about it. A small giggle escaped your throat and you tried to cover it with a cough.
“I look that bad?” Tony asked after taking a swig of water.
“No, no, I just,” you stuttered, “I’m just happy everyone is back in one piece.”
The elevator doors opened again and this time when you stepped out Tony didn’t follow. You smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re back, Tony.”
“Me too, kid, me too.”