Amends

By TheLostMaximoff

Disclaimer: Don't own. Like the summary says this is AU. Pietro didn't save Magneto from getting crushed by the Sentinel. Everything else after that pretty much happened the way it did in the series except for the fact that Magneto's now dead. Oh yeah, the POV for the first part of this is Wanda. You'll probably realize that once you read it.

The grass is wet under my feet but I can't feel it because of my boots. I can't feel anything anymore. It's a strange feeling, a hollow one. I'm completely numb inside. No anger, no tears, nothing. Just emptiness.

My father is dead. The cold, hard reality of this fact sets in. I saw that Sentinel fall on him but even then I wasn't sure. Mystique wasn't sure either so she had me and the little frog go find out while the others ran a little rescue errand. She never came back. I feel nothing for that either.

We saw them load a body into a hearse. We checked the news footage, rewound the tape several times. It was like a nightmare watching that hunk of metal crush my father over and over again. The Master of Magnetism killed by a huge chunk of steel. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the irony so I did something worse, I did absolutely nothing.

We snuck into the morgue and looked at the body. I can still picture his cold, lifeless eyes staring at me, haunting me. 'Murderer,' they screamed, 'Filthy, monstrous murderer. You're just like me now, just as bad as I was.' I made Toad cover up the body and we headed back to the house. I refused to talk about it.

When Xavier got out of wherever Mystique had stashed him and learned what had happened he had my father buried properly. Apparently they were old friends. I didn't even go to the funeral. It didn't feel right to stand there and watch everyone else cry when I couldn't shed any tears. This is the first time I've been to the spot where my father is buried.

As I approach the grave I hear crying. It startles me out of my thoughts. I know who cries like that. I can remember hearing it in the middle of the night. I can remember coming into the room and hugging my brother while he cried on my shoulder. I know who cries like this.

None of us have seen Pietro since the Sentinel disaster. I don't know where he's been staying. I stand there and watch him cry, watch him shed tears for this person who was no more a father to him than he was to me. It puzzles me. I don't know if he's wrong for crying or I'm wrong for not crying. It feels like I should be sad, like I should be crying but I can't. I still remember that seven-year hell in the asylum and any grief is snuffed out like a candle. How could I be anything but glad that this man is dead?

His eyes haunt me again. I can still remember watching that flaming chunk of iron fall towards him. I can still remember how in those precious seconds I suddenly wished for a different end to this ordeal. I realized then that the very thing I had obsessed over all those years was now the last thing on Earth I wanted to happen. My father didn't deserve to die. Rot in jail forever but not die. Crash, down came the hammer and my soul went completely numb.

"Pietro?" I speak before I know why. Maybe I just want to talk to him, to explain things, maybe even apologize. I don't know what I feel anymore if I feel anything at all. He doesn't respond even though I know he heard me. That hurts me.

"Have you got what you wanted?" he asks as he turns to face me, "Is this what you've dreamt about, Wanda, the murder of our father?" His words sting as they hit me. They sizzle like hot knives under my skin. I thought I wanted this but then why does it feel so bad? Why do I feel guilty, sorry?

"Pietro, I. . ." I try to say something, anything, but I stop. I don't know what to say. Pietro takes my silence as confirmation. I want to explain everything but I don't know how.

"Look at that, Wanda," he orders me, "Look at what you've done. Our father is dead now, gone forever." My veins freeze as ice water runs through them. All my fault? How dare he try to turn our father into some kind of martyr. How dare he say this is my fault after what our father did to me.

"What about you?" I retort coldly, "Where were you, Pietro? Weren't you fast enough to save him?" I might as well have kicked him in the groin with the look of pain he gives me. I absolutely hate my temper. I hate how I just fly off the handle and lose control. I hate it when I say things I don't mean just to hurt someone like people have hurt me.

"This is all your fault, Wanda," he states, "You and your stupid revenge. Our father would still be alive right now if you had just. . ." He stops but we both know what he was about to say. I am furious now. I was going to apologize to this scum? Forget it.

"If I had just what, Pietro?" I ask, demanding him to say the rest of it aloud so I can know for certain that he is now the worst human being on the planet. He still refuses to talk.

"Let me try and fill in the blank," I snarl, "If I had just stayed in the time-out from hell? If I had just rolled over and died like a good little girl so you and Father could have some weird father/son quality time? Finish the damn sentence, Pietro. If I had just what?"

He turns his back on me. So I was right. It was both of those together. I had been right all along. My brother was a lying sleaze who didn't care about me at all.

"That's what I thought," I say, "Well, glad to know you still don't care."

"Wanda, that's not. . ." he tries to explain but I won't listen. I listened to Pietro last time and it almost got us all killed.

"Save it," I sneer, "Maybe Father will listen. Goodbye Pietro, and don't bother coming back to the house. Just go back under your rock and die." I don't even bother telling him about how I'm sorry things are like this or that I wish we could be friends again. I turn away and begin walking back home. I don't know which is worse, feeling nothing but anger or feeling nothing at all. I've had more than enough practice at both.

XXXXX

I watch Wanda leave and feel my heart shatter. Why had I said those things? Why was I so angry with her? This wasn't her fault. For one moment I suddenly realize how my sister feels. I was sad, angry, hurt. I needed a scapegoat, something to blame. She was like a lightning rod. I just let her have it and now I've ruined everything. I've left myself all alone. For once I know exactly how Wanda must feel after she'd done expelling her anger on someone who didn't deserve it.

I turn back to the tombstone. 'Magneto's been no father to me.' It was true. He had always been cold, distant, and seemingly uncaring. I knew that his love would have to be earned so I set about doing just that. I lost track of Wanda somewhere in there and I'm afraid now I've lost her for good.

"Why'd you make me say that?" I ask, "You always come between us, even in death. You always try to control me." It was true. I was a pawn to Father, nothing more. I have every reason to hate this man but he is still my father and I will still cry when I think about his death.

"You see that," I tell the marble slab, "I'm not like you. I can still feel." I never got to tell Wanda the reason I was crying. I was crying because I was sorry. She was right, I was fast enough to save Dad. I could've but I let him die. I had learned my lesson. Last time I chose Father over Wanda and I'm still haunted by that night in the rain. This time I chose Wanda over Father but I still somehow managed to screw it up.

"That's it," I state, "I'm through with you. You made my sister into a monster and you tried to do the same to me. I'm done with it. I'm getting my sister back." I don't even wait for a reply. I race off to try and find Wanda. I chose her over Father again.

XXXXX

Wanda was still fuming as she stomped away from where she'd left Pietro. She could feel the ground quaking from her anger. She felt a rush of wind and suddenly found Pietro in front of her. That only made her even angrier.

"Move," she ordered, "Get out of my way." She tried to step around him but he moved to block her.

"Make me," he dared, "Go on." Wanda was confused for a moment. Was her brother suicidal, crazy, or both?

"I'm not in the mood for games, Pietro," she stated, "I don't feel like breaking anything here except maybe you."

"That's right," taunted Pietro, "Get angry, Wanda. That solves everything, doesn't it? Just get mad and break something. Fixes all your problems."

"What the hell are you trying to do?" asked Wanda. She couldn't understand what was going on.

"Come on," urged Pietro as he spread his arms and took a few steps back, "Free shot. Swear to God I won't move a muscle. I bet you don't have the guts to do it."

"I'm warning you, Pietro," stated Wanda, "Don't make me hurt you."

"Why not?" asked Pietro, "I thought you dreamt about doing that. Wasn't I part of your revenge too? Come on, sis, finish the job. Blow me straight to hell, I deserve it."

"Don't tempt me," warned Wanda as crackling blue energy engulfed her hand, "I won't hesitate."

"Then don't," replied Pietro, "I dare you to, double dare you to, triple dare you to. I bet you can't. I bet you're a sissy, a chicken."

"You never did know when to quit," said Wanda as she raised her hand, "even when we were kids."

"That's right," agreed Pietro, "Let's see what the big, bad Scarlet Witch is really made of. Do it, sis. Do what you wanted to do since we were kids. I say you won't kill me, prove me wrong. Prove me wrong, Wanda." Wanda stood there for a little bit. Why was he egging her on like this? Usually he was scared out of his mind like everybody else. Did he really want to die?

She stared into his eyes. They were so much like her own and, in turn, so much like her father's. 'Murderer'. No, she refused to kill again. She wouldn't, couldn't, slay another family member especially not the only one she had left. She powered down and turned away.

"What's wrong?" asked Pietro, "I told you I wouldn't move. What's to stop you?" Wanda mumbled something. Pietro smiled. He just had to push a little bit more.

"What was that?" he asked, "I didn't hear you."

"I can't," replied Wanda sourly with her back still to Pietro. She was determined not to let him see her cry.

"Why not?" asked Pietro, "Tell me why." Wanda mumbled again. Pietro knew he'd have to drag it out of her.

"Because," she said finally as she turned around with teary eyes, "you're my brother." That was all he needed to hear. In one lightning-fast motion his arms were around her. It was the first time they'd hugged in almost eight years.

"No," cried Wanda as she tried to break away, "I'm supposed to hate you. I do hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I. . ." She broke down and started crying. She sobbed and bawled like a baby.

"I love you too, sis," said Pietro. That only made her cry even more. Seven years worth of forcing herself not to cry was all undone as she just collapsed against him and almost took them both down.

"I'm sorry," she wailed, "I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for killing Dad, I'm sorry for everything."

"It's okay," assured Pietro, "You don't have to hate anyone anymore. You don't have anything to be sorry about. I'm the one who should be sorry, is sorry. I helped make you into this, helped bring about this whole thing. I'm just as responsible for Dad's death as you are, probably even more."

"I feel so awful," admitted Wanda, "I didn't want him to die. I thought I did but when I saw it happen I realized I was wrong."

"It's okay," repeated Pietro, "Dad's dead, he can't hurt you anymore."

"Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?" asked Wanda.

"Of course I did," replied Pietro, "I always loved you, Wanda. I just made some terrible choices. Do you love me?"

"Yes," admitted Wanda, "but it hurt so much to watch you just stand there while they took me away. I felt so worthless, so unloved."

"I promise you I'll never hurt you again," swore Pietro, "Cross my heart." Wanda dried her eyes and smiled at him.

"Let's go back to the house," suggested Pietro, "I do still have a room, don't I?"

"Yeah," sniffed Wanda, "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. We'd still take you back."

"Only if I do a lot of begging," said Pietro, "Oh and, sis, for the record I knew you couldn't blast me."

"Jerk," said Wanda as she playfully punched Pietro in the arm.

"Witch," he shot back as he retaliated in the same manner.

"Narcissist," she replied as she hit him again.

"Psychotic," he sang. The two twins traded a few more hits. They both smiled. It had been forever since they'd had someone to do this with.

"Sissy," finished Wanda as she hit him hard.

"Ow," whined Pietro, "I bruise easily you know." Wanda smiled again. Just like when they were kids.

"I love you, big brother," she said as she hugged him again.

"I love you too, baby sister," replied Pietro.

"Do you think he's watching us?" asked Wanda.

"Who? Dad?" replied Pietro. Wanda nodded. Pietro thought about it for a few moments.

"I guess so," he finally answered.

"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" asked Wanda.

"Not if he's where I think he is," said Pietro truthfully. He didn't want to believe that their father was in Hell but it was hard not to.

"At least we'll see Mom," said Wanda. Pietro nodded. Their mother had been a angel. There was no question where she was right now.

"We're the only ones left, Pietro," said Wanda sadly.

"That's okay," assured Pietro, "If all we have is each other then that's good enough for me. I'm just glad I have my sister back."

"I'm glad I have a brother again," said Wanda. They both smiled as they left the cemetery and headed back to the house. All they ever needed was each other and now it was all they had. Somehow they both knew that in the end they'd be okay.

(Author's Note): This will probably be my last fan fic for a little while. I'm getting ready to start my second year of college and we all know how much of an attention-whore school can be. Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon you guys. Just be patient and I'll make it worth the wait.