User:CraftTech/Sandbox

It's alright...it's alright..." She's hardly aware of anything but the power surging through her, the burning agony of heartbreak in her chest, the desperate tears hot on her cheeks. Vision gazing at her, tears in his eyes, and the world seems to shatter when he whispers, "I love you."

"I'm pregnant." The words hang in the silence, Vision's familiar eyes widening, tears spilling down his cheeks and shining on his skin, and a slight smile gently curving the corners of his mouth. His hand reaches out so slowly, fingers curving over her stomach and tightening into her clothes, and he meets her eyes.

"Look after our baby," he breathes, and there's a flash of light and agony in her chest as the stone shatters and he disappears.

Everything seems to stop, and yet speed up. She's barely aware of anything but numbness, the brief relief when spinning glowing green brings Vision back and her own screaming when Thanos rips the stone from his head, the colour draining from him as the madman throws his body aside like trash. Thanos turns to her, gazing at her as he pushes the mind stone into the gauntlet, and rage rushes to the surface, a blast of red sending the leaves flying off the trees around her but barely affecting him with more than a slight stumble. "Bring him back," she snaps, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"I can't," Thanos says, giving the gauntlet a smug glance, seemingly not noticing others stirring around him, slowly moving in for another fight, one last chance.

"Then kill me too," she sobs out, hands clutching at her clothes over her still-flat stomach. Vision never even got to see a bump.

Thanos stares down at her, raising the gauntlet in consideration, and she closes her eyes and waits for the blast, waits to be sent to wherever Vision is. "No," comes the flat statement, and she's crying again. "You are too valuable to kill."

"I'll never join you," she says, voice tremulous with emotion. "You killed him!"

"Not you," he says, and she clutches herself protectively. "The baby in your belly will one day prove a powerful ally. A replacement for my children you and your friends have murdered here today."

"You think my child will join you?" she asks derisively. "You killed their father!"

"I'll kill their mother too," Thanos says, sending a chill down her spine, and then she hears the crackling of lightning and scrambles to move away. Crawl hopelessly over the jungle floor to Vision's side, his skin so cold to the touch, his eyes white and unseeing, the hollow where the mind stone was torn from him jagged beneath her tentative fingers.

"Come back," she finds herself whispering, linking her fingers through his limp hand, the way she did in bed not more than a day ago, when the secret of their baby was spinning in her mind and screaming to be let out. "Please. I love you, Vizh, I love you so much, please don't go, I need you, I can't do this without you..."

People crumble to dust around her, but she's barely aware of the new waves of grief, all of her heartbreak concentrated on Vision. While she hears her teammates calling out for those disappearing on the wind, she can only look at Vision's blank eyes. Remembering the way he looked at her, every day since they met. The blue of his eyes now faded away.

A brush of a hand against her back jerks her away from Vision's body, looking up to Steve gazing down at her with gritted jaw and agony in his eyes. "We have to move," he says, still the captain, the leader, and she shakes her head. "The palace is still open to us. We should go and plan."

"There is no plan," she says, muted and miserable. "Not without him."

"Wanda, please come with us," Steve says, but when he takes her shoulder and tries to pull her away she clings to Vision, willing him to wake up, willing all this to be a terrible nightmare and to wake up next to Vision and tell him about their baby. "Wanda, you can't stay here. He's gone."

"No." The heartbroken whisper is almost involuntary, as she traces a finger over the line of vibranium her fingertips wandered gently along so many times lying in bed next to Vision. "I need him."

"Wanda?" A different voice, so soft and gentle and understanding, and she's aware of Natasha's presence next to her even as she buries her head in Vision's still chest, her breath coming in ragged sobbing gasps. "We won't leave him, okay? Thor is right here, he can carry Vision back to the palace with us."

"I need him," she repeats helplessly, and Natasha's hand is on her back, rubbing soothing circles between her shoulder blades. "I can't do this by myself. The baby needs him."

"The...the baby?" Natasha asks, and Wanda just clutches Vision tighter, crying into him. "Wanda, you...you're pregnant?" A moment of silence, and she very gently asks, "Wanda, can you sit up and look at me? I want to help."

She can barely gather the strength to sit up, look into Natasha's eyes so concerned behind a mask of dirt and blood, and she starts to crumble all over again, clutching at herself, holding herself together against the heartbreak that's cracking her all to pieces. "You're pregnant?" she repeats softly, and Wanda nods, tears burning behind her eyes, barely aware of Rhodey's jaw going slack in shock, Bruce's hand flying to his mouth, Thor bowing his head in miserable defeat.

"Are you sure?" Steve asks gruffly, standing over her and Natasha and staring down at her as she runs her hand over her stomach, Vision's child a flicker of life inside her, the only piece of him she has left.

"Eight tests came back positive in six days," she says softly, remembering those snatched moments while Vision slept in their bed, staring at her future with joy unfurling in her chest, knowing she was pregnant with the baby of the man she loves more than she could ever love anyone else. She should have told him.

"That shouldn't be possible," Steve breathes, and she can only shrug helplessly, leaning her hopeless weight against Natasha. "You're sure it's...you're sure Vision is the father?"

"I'm sure I wasn't sleeping with anyone except the man I love!" she sobs out, almost a shriek, and Natasha's arm tightens around her, a comforting kiss dropped on her temple.

"But there's no way-"

"We just watched half our teammates turn to dust, Rogers, I think we're long past 'there's no way'," Rhodey says thinly, and moves towards Wanda with so much kind concern in his eyes that it hurts even worse. "How long have you known?"

"Ten days," she breathes indistinctly, voice strangled with emotion.

"And you hadn't told him?" Natasha asks softly, and she shakes her head.

"I couldn't figure out a way," she says, remembering all the times she lay next to him and wanted to blurt it out before her mind snatched the words from the tip of her tongue, terrified that he wouldn't be happy. So scared that he wouldn't stay by her side in the face of an accidental pregnancy. "I wanted to tell him before he had to leave, but...we..."

"You got interrupted," Natasha says, and she nods. "So...what do you want to do?"

"We'll do anything we can to help," Rhodey says, and Natasha nods. "We just want you safe and healthy, and with the baby...if that's what you want."

"Of...of course it's what I want!" Wanda snaps, horrified that they would even think she wouldn't want Vision's baby. "This...the baby is all I have left of him!" She breaks down again, her chest on fire with the force of her sobbing, her fingertips clenched tightly into her clothes, and now it's Bruce standing over her while Natasha holds her, shushing her over and over again.

"I need you to try and calm down, Wanda," he says, so gentle. "It's not good for you or the baby to stay here like this."

"Are you going to take him away?" she asks faintly, and Bruce shakes his head frantically, so much pain in his eyes when he looks down at Vision's body. "What are you going to do?"

"We'll put him in the cryo chamber the White Wolf was in when he first arrived," Okoye says, rallied despite the glittering tear tracks on her cheeks, her knuckles pale on her spear. "Preserve the body. My princess may still be able to change something."

"See?" Natasha says softly, her smile an attempt at comforting, her hand moving back and forth over Wanda's still-shuddering shoulders. "No one's going to take him away, Wanda. We promise."

"Can you stand?" Okoye asks, and there's a sympathy to her gaze Wanda would never have expected from the ruthless leader of the Dora Milaje. "You should be taken to the medical wing - you've had a terrible shock."

"Wait," she whispers, and turns back to Vision's body, her hand trembling violently as she closes his eyes, hiding the blank white. Choking back a heaving sob, she leans down and presses a last kiss to his cheek, and breathes, "I'll find a way to bring you back. I promise."

Okoye offers out a hand that she takes to haul herself to her feet, Natasha catching her when she stumbles under the terrible crushing weight of profound grief. They hold her between the two of them as the broken group of survivors limp back towards the palace, letting her rely on them to keep her moving, keep her upright. All she can think of is watching Vision cry, hear his last words to her over and over again, wish and wish that she'd taken the chance and told him the first time she looked at a positive pregnancy test.

They carry her away from the tiny group of the living, through the intricate palace corridors to a sterile white room, with a silver-haired woman waiting, exhausted pain in the lines of her face and her hands held out helplessly when Okoye looks to her. "I'm afraid there is nothing I can do to stop this," she says.

"Ms. Maximoff, this is Doctor Mamadou," Okoye says, and she looks to Wanda, intrigue flashing across her face. "She delivered both my king and my princess into this world. There is no one I would trust more to take care of you and your unborn child."

"You should sleep," Natasha says gently, and the thought of giving in is so appealing, disappearing from this world for a few hours, forgetting that everything has fallen apart.

"There are sedatives safe for you to have if you wish, Ms. Maximoff," Doctor Mamadou says, and Wanda nods, too drained to even protest. "Will one of you be staying with her?"

"I will," Natasha says. "Okoye, you go to the others. See if there's anything to be done. Help them plan."

As the door swings shut behind Okoye, Natasha helps Wanda out of her uniform, replacing the tight leather with softer clothes, all in white to match the walls, and so carefully lies her down, something maternal and protective in her face that Wanda has never seen before. "Nat?" she asks in a breath, and she immediately looks at her, concerned. "Do you...do you think I can do this alone?"

"Of course you could," Natasha says, plumping the pillows behind her head. "But you're not alone, Wanda. We're all here for you, no matter what. To protect you and the baby."

She clasps her hand to her stomach, her and Vision's baby still small enough to be a secret. The last important thing she has left, so vulnerable to the dangers of the world, needing so closely protected. She thinks of Vision's smile when she told him, and silent tears slip down her cheeks and onto the pillow.

Time seems different in the days and weeks after Wakanda was decimated. It passes by so slowly sometimes, endless hours spent staring at the white walls only to see that barely five minutes have gone by, or rushing by like the wind against hotel room windows, while she lay content in Vision's arms.

"You're cold." His hand runs gently down her side, sending a frisson of desire skittering through her, and she smiles up at him.

"Then warm me up." Immediately the warmth of his skin doubles, her own personal space heater, and she looks up at him from beneath her lashes and murmurs, "Not what I meant, Vizh."

"Oh," he breathes, and lets her slide his hand down as they fall into a kiss.

"Wanda?" She looks up at Natasha standing in the doorway, still wearing the blacks and dark greys of mourning. "Doctor Mamadou has her equipment ready. You can come through."

When Wanda lies down on the flat table Doctor Mamadou has prepared for her, identical to the one where Vision lay and they almost saved him, almost, she can see that her stomach isn't flat anymore, starting to swell beneath her clothes. "How are you feeling with your pregnancy, Ms. Maximoff?" Doctor Mamadou asks, forcefully cheerful and helpful, and there doesn't seem to be the words in the world to give an answer.

She's barely spoken a word for days, only eating and sleeping and trying to live on for the sake of the baby, and she dully asks, "What do you want to know?"

"Do you know how many weeks you are?" Doctor Mamadou asks, her voice very soft and soothing. It's easy to see why she's Wakanda's best doctor, given the honour of delivering the royal family's children.

"One of the home tests I took said eight weeks," she says, cupping a hand over her slowly-growing bump for strength, the only thing she has left to live for. "That was four weeks ago."

"So you would be due for an ultrasound by now anyway," Doctor Mamadou says with a reassuring smile, and Wanda tries not to think of another reality, in a world that didn't fall apart. A reality where Vision would be at her side, holding her hand, pressing a kiss into her palm, eyes shining in excitement to see their child for the first time. "What symptoms have you been experiencing?"

"Nausea, at first," she says, Natasha's presence hovering protectively close to her. "I had to move hotels because the smell of the take-away down the street was making me throw up. Other than that, not much. I took the tests because...I just had a feeling."

"Lots of women just have a feeling, and most of the time their intuition is correct," Doctor Mamadou says, and then professionalism masks her eyes. "Feet in the stirrups, Ms. Maximoff."

"It's okay," Natasha says, her expression full of soothing comfort and sympathy, taking Wanda's hand and squeezing tight. "I went to a few of Laura's appointments when Clint was indisposed. Nothing to be scared of."

"You'll feel some pressure," Doctor Mamadou says softly, and Wanda tries not to tense up, clutching Natasha's hand a little tighter instead, turning her head when she realises the other two women in the room are looking at a screen. "Alright, keep looking there, and you'll see...oh." Her hand tightening convulsively around Natasha's, Wanda looks desperately at the doctor, unable to read anything in her expression. "Is there a history of twins in your family, Ms. Maximoff?"

"I was a twin," she says, the was aching in her chest, reminding her exactly how much the world has taken from her and yet left her to live with that suffering, in a world where everyone she's ever loved has died.

"Look," Doctor Mamadou says, reaching carefully out to trace shapes in the black and white fuzziness of the screen. "Here's one fetus...and there's another. You're carrying twins, Ms. Maximoff."

She doesn't feel the oncoming tears until they're coursing down her cheeks, and Doctor Mamadou has moved away, and Natasha is frantically shushing her, holding her hand tight. "You need to calm down," she says softly, almost inaudible over Wanda's desperate sobbing. "You have those two babies to take care of, Wanda. Vision's children. Be strong for them."

"I can't," she chokes out, and Natasha is standing to look at her, her eyes steely.

"Yes, you can," she insists. "I know...I know that none of us can begin to understand what you're going through. But you can't just give up, Wanda."

"What am I supposed to live for?" she sobs out, something that's been circling her secret mind ever since Vision begged her to destroy the gem and him with it. "I'm alone."

"You have me," Natasha insists, gripping her hand so hard her nails are digging crescents into Wanda's palm, where Vision's kisses still linger, the softness of his mouth burnt into her skin. "You have Steve. You have Rhodey and Bruce and Thor. You have Okoye and Shuri." Very gently taking hold of Wanda's wrist, she pulls her hand down to her bump, Wanda's fingers moulding over the slight curve instinctively. "You have them. Live for your children, Wanda. They need you to be strong."

"Will they ever love me?" she asks, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I killed their father. How could a child love a parent who did that?"

"You didn't kill Vision," Natasha says, voice low and insistent. "Thanos did. This is all because of him. You tell them their father died a hero, sacrificing himself for them and for the universe." A broken sob forces its way out of Wanda's clamped-shut lips, and Natasha moves closer, fire in her eyes. "And you live for the fight still to come. Because I swear to you, Wanda, we will avenge him. We'll make Thanos pay."

"Do you promise?" Wanda asks weakly, and Natasha squeezes her hand tightly.

"I swear on my life."

"An aircraft is requesting permission to land, my princess," Okoye says, and Shuri looks up from her papers startled, something feverish in her eyes that flashes behind Bruce's glasses too.

"Ask who it is," Steve says from his corner, still tight-jawed and angry behind the eyes.

"This is Okoye, leader of the Dora Milaje, protector of Wakanda," Okoye says into the intercom, hand on the spear still hooked at her hip. "State your name and your intentions here."

"Tony Stark," comes the familiar voice, broken with grief, and there's a crash as Rhodey's coffee mug slips through his slack, shocked fingers and to the floor, and even Wanda glances up from running her fingers back and forth over the growing curve of her bump, seeing life spark back into mourning faces. "I'm here with an ally named Nebula. We just want to land."

"Tony?" Bruce gasps, hope lighting his eyes for the first time in weeks. "You're alive?"

"Bruce?" comes the crackling question through the connection, and there's a gleam of tears in Bruce's eyes, something to be grateful for at last. "Who am I talking to right now?"

"Come up to the palace, Mr. Stark," Okoye says, and glances around the room. Rocket has risen from the floor, and the strange creature is the first out of the room, and Natasha is reaching out to help Wanda to her feet, the slow swelling of her belly already making it more difficult to move as she used to.

The sky is so blue soaring above them, unfairly bright for a world ripped apart, and Natasha is holding Wanda tight as Tony approaches them, with a blue-skinned woman who must be Nebula limping behind him, both of them looking like they've gone through hell and back. "Rocket," she says, nodding to the raccoon. "Where's Groot?"

"Gone," Rocket says, a break in his voice. "Gamora? Drax? Quill? Mantis?"

"All gone," she says, and there are tears shining on Rocket's fur. "We're the only two left."

"Why?" Rocket asks, and Nebula's eyes go hard, her jaw tight with tension.

"To suffer," she snaps, and storms past the line of survivors into the palace, Rocket scurrying after her.

Tony's gaze runs over each of the, half-healed cuts dark lines on his exhausted face, hopelessness in his eyes. "This is it?" he asks, voice cracked and so hurt, and Steve gives a solemn nod. "Oh God."

"It's good to see you, Tony," Steve says, bracing, but there's genuine gratitude in his eyes as he adds, "We're glad you're alive."

"You too, Rogers," Tony says, and there's a handshake without awkwardness, just two wrecked souls returning to each other's sides. Bruce breaks formation first, throwing his arms around Tony, and there's a slight smile breaking through the grief that masks Tony's face, even more so after Bruce steps back, teary-eyed, and Rhodey hugs him too.

"Nat," Tony says, and Natasha gives him an acknowledging nod, and then he finally notices Wanda, and his eyes go wide. "So...tell a guy the truth, how long did it take me to get back here?"

"Eight weeks," Natasha says, squeezing Wanda's hand when she grabs on for something to cling to, seeing Tony's gaze on her bump, his throat working as he searches for words. "There's a lot for us all to discuss."

"You don't have to tell me that, Romanoff," Tony says, and meets Wanda's eyes, and she tries to force the rising urge to cry away. "Vision's kid, I assume?"

"His twins," she answers dully, clutching a protective hand to her bump, and Tony's face settles into a mask of sympathy she's used to by now.

"I'm so sorry, Wanda," he says, and his voice is gentle, a way he's never spoken to her before. "I know how he felt about you."

"It was mutual," she snaps miserably.

"I know that too," Tony says, and nods to her bump. "Those babies wouldn't exist if it wasn't something special between you two."

"I love him," she breathes, and Natasha is holding her tight as she crumples into crying, and Tony's hand is on her shoulder, gentle. They stand near her, silent and stoic, as she falls apart again, wondering how this is ever going to be okay.

"Vision." No movement from the bed, and she can't help smiling to herself as she crosses the room, sets her coffee mug on the nightstand and stretches across the mattress to press a lingering kiss to Vision's bare shoulder. "Babe, stop faking sleep."

He doesn't respond, whistling out a dramatically harsh breath, and she's grinning now, trailing slow, sensual kisses along his shoulder blade. "I guess we can't do anything this morning then," she says softly. "Too bad. I did have something in mind..."

"And what is that?" she hears him mumble into the pillow, and smirks to herself.

"Wake the hell up and I'll show you," she says, and he turns his head to look at her, his eyes bright. "You're gonna miss your train, Vizh."

"There's another one at twelve," he says, and lifts himself off the pillow for a lingering kiss, hand sliding up beneath her shirt and drawing patterns into her skin. "Unless you think I should get the eleven."

"Stop talking about train times," she breathes, and kisses his smug grin away, tugging her shirt up over her head and rolling on top of him.

"Wanda?" The knock on the door and tentative voice brings her out of her memories, her hand clasped against her bump as she remembers the dawn light on Vision's face and his laughter. "There's someone here that wants to see you."

The door slowly opens, Rhodey stone-faced on the other side, and Wanda straightens up when Clint appears, face a mask of grief but something like relief rushing into his eyes when he sees her. "Clint?" she breathes, wondering if this is a dream - but Vision would be in the bed next to her if this wasn't real, not cold air.

"Hey kiddo," Clint says weakly, and a slight smile shimmers through the haze of misery. "Can I keep calling you kiddo when you're gonna be a mom?"

"Clint." She gets carefully to her feet, the weight of her bump still taking some getting used to, and Clint moves first to scoop her into a hug, holding her as tight as he can. "What are you doing here?"

"Nat called," he says, releasing her and gazing down at her with something so paternal and protective in his eyes. "And everything's gone to shit anyway."

"You can say that again," Rhodey comments, leaning casually against the doorframe with a slight grin. "Anyway, Wanda, me and Nat are gonna start dinner. I'll let you two catch up."

"Can I?" Clint asks, and she nods, his hand on her bump bringing tears to her eyes, wishing more than anything that Vision could've seen this, could've watched her belly grow with their babies. "How far along are you?"

"Nearly twenty weeks," she says, thinking of the latest ultrasound, Natasha clutching her hand while her eyes filled with tears seeing Vision's children moving inside her, so alive when he's gone. "They're both boys."

"Any movement yet?" Clint asks, and she shakes her head. "Well, it won't be much longer. I remember..." He trails away, throat working and eyes clouding up with grief, and she looks up at him in concern.

"Clint?" He looks up at her with suffering beyond all words in his eyes, and a terrible thought crashes into her mind. "Clint, what happened to you out there?"

"Laura," he says, in the voice of a hollow, broken man. "The kids. When it all...when it was over, they were all gone. Turned to dust."

"Oh God," she breathes, a knee-jerk horrified reaction. "Clint, I...I'm so sorry."

"And I'm so sorry," he says gently, gripping her hands in his. "Nat filled me in on everything that happened. It's not fair, Wanda. It's not fair you had to pay that price, and it was all for nothing."

"I...we had two years of stolen moments," she says, very quiet, her hand against her bump. "I'm having his twins. I know he loved me, and I love him. I...at least I had that."

"You deserved a lifetime," Clint says, and the tears spill over, the hand she raises to try and wipe her eyes shaking violently. "Especially with the babies on the way."

"I don't know what to do," she says, looking up at Clint, who she's trusted to look after her in such a paternal way. "I have two children on the way, and I'm the only one they can rely on for everything. I can't do this, Clint, I can't."

"Don't be silly," he says, squeezing her shoulders reassuringly. "You're going to be an amazing mom, Wanda. Young as you are, you're stronger than you know. Plenty of women younger than twenty-three have kids and do just fine. And you have a support network all around you if you need it." He sucks in a deep breath, and hesitantly adds, "For what it's worth, Vision would've been an incredible father."

"I know," she says, and takes a shuddering breath to try and calm herself down, centre herself in the moment. Panic attacks and crying fits aren't helping her or the babies, she has to do her best to stay as stable as she can under the circumstances. "He would've loved being a family."

"He still could," comes a voice, and Wanda looks at Bruce in the doorway, some of the fervour gone from his eyes but his hair wild and unbrushed, his clothes creased. "Nat sent me to get the two of you, dinner is almost ready. But Wanda, we think we've done it."

"What?" she asks, barely more than a breath. "He's alive?"

"Not exactly," Bruce says. "But Shuri's fixed the hole in his head, and she's reconnected all the wires. But we need a power source, and there's nothing Wakandan strong enough for that."

"The stone," she says. "We need to get the mind stone back."

"Wanda." Clint's voice is a warning, fear in his eyes when she looks at him. "Trying that is suicide."

"I have to try," she says. "I...I owe it to him. To the babies. I have to make this right for them."

"Come to dinner," Bruce says gently. "We can talk about it all together." Ignoring the warning in Clint's eyes, the fear, she follows Bruce out of her room and back to where everyone has gathered, the survivors of a terrible war forming a bond in shared grief.

As she goes to pull out the chair next to Natasha and sit down, a sudden jolt against her hand makes her clasp her fingertips against her bump, gazing down at her swollen belly wide-eyed. "You okay, Wanda?" Rhodey asks, and there's sudden tension in his voice when he asks, "Is it pain?"

"No...I think one of them kicked," she says softly, and presses her hand harder against her bump, a breath of something like a laugh leaving her when she feels the same jolt. "They're moving." Another nudge into her hand, and the tears in her eyes are happy for the first time in months, feeling her sons with the man she loves more than anything trying to get her attention. "I feel you," she whispers to her bump, and the next nudge seems to be in approval. "I love you."

Wakanda is the centre of a world turned upside-down, where those willing to fight again are beginning to gather, plotting how to draw Thanos back to them and force him into a confrontation. Twenty-five weeks pregnant, her hand cupped over her growing bump to feel every flutter of movement from her babies, Wanda listens while they talk of the war to come. "Strange said that there was one outcome where we could win," Tony says. "He said before he died that it was the only way."

"They're not dead," says their newest ally, Carol looking around at each of them with knowledge of things beyond any of their understanding in her eyes. "They're trapped somewhere, but we can free them."

"Then we have to free them," Steve says, a vein throbbing at his temple. "No one deserves to be trapped in some dimension by Thanos. That's no kind of life."

"We have to try," Tony agrees. "But the priority is getting the gauntlet away from Thanos. Without him having control of the stones, we can stop him."

"He has all six stones," Scott says miserably, Hope at his side clasping his hand and squeezing, affection clear between them making Wanda bite her lip to stifle a sudden rasp of a sob, missing Vision. "What chance does a ragtag bunch of misfits have against that?"

"We're a pretty damn determined ragtag bunch of misfits," Natasha remarks, to a snort from Rhodey, a piece of brightness in their solemn existences. "And we're together."

"We have to fight him as a group," Nebula says, sitting with her feet kicked up on the table and seemingly ignorant of Clint edging his chair away from her, unnerved. "He's alone, and we're not. A team can defeat an individual no matter how overpowered that individual is."

"I don't think the gauntlet was truly meant to support the power of all six stones," Thor says. "No one could anticipate how much power that truly is. The last time I saw it, it was partially melted. And the only person in the universe who could fix it has run to avoid Thanos' retribution."

"So if he tries that snap trick again the gauntlet might break apart," Bruce muses.

"But if he tries it again, Bruce, the other half of the universe dies," Rhodey says with a deep frown.

"We won't let him try it," Tony says, steely determination in his eyes, the determination of someone who has lost so much but still sees a world worth fighting for. "We're the Avengers."

"Ahem."

"Fine, some of us are the Avengers, some of us are Guardians of the Galaxy and some of us are just here for the fun of it," Tony corrects himself, arching an eyebrow at Rocket's interruption. "But the point is, we're all the same side. We all want to stop Thanos. And we have to work together if we have a hope in hell of seeing this through."

"And let's say we get Thanos," Hope says, her hand a vice-grip on Scott's arm. "We take back the gauntlet. Then we're left with six infinity stones. What do we do with that?"

"I think you and Mr. Lang can help with that," Shuri says, nodding at the couple. "The stones must be put far out of Thanos' reach. Perhaps in the mysterious Quantum Realm."

"Oh..." Scott breathes, and looks at Shuri. "You're smart. How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Shuri says, and Wanda has to smile at the touchingly proud look Okoye is giving her princess.

"Then I look forward to living in a world ruled by you," Scott says, and Shuri grins.

"The time stone ought to be returned to the sorcerers," Carol says. "They have protected it for thousands of years, and will protect it for thousands more."

"I want the mind stone," Wanda says, and every pair of eyes flickers to her. "I know what you all think. But I can do it."

"You are not going into the battlefield, young lady," Clint says firmly.

"Why shouldn't she?" Okoye asks, glaring at Clint. "We'd all be dead and Wakanda would've been mowed down without her."

"She's heavily pregnant, Okoye," Steve says, and Wanda clutches a hand to her belly, a nudge into her palm comforting. "You wouldn't put a pregnant member of the Dora Milaje into a fight, would you?"

"I won't fight," Wanda says. "Not properly. I wouldn't put the babies at risk. But I can help, you know I can. I can stand back and do everything from there. Please...I can't just stand idly by and watch this happen. I want my vengeance as much as any of you." At a kick from one of the babies, remembering Vision's last moments and his terrible screams, she grits her teeth and hisses, "More."

"Vengeance can make people stupid," Tony says warningly, and his gaze on her is all concern, an emotion she didn't realise he felt towards her. Even if it's simply because she's pregnant, having people so worried for her makes warmth sprawl through her chest, her heart a little lighter. "If there's a risk you'll be blinded by emotion, you shouldn't be on the battlefield."

"We don't know when Thanos will make his way back to us," Wanda says. "If it's too close to my due date, I swear I'll back off."

"And when is that?" Carol asks.

"October 16th," Wanda says. "Around fifteen weeks left."

Meeting her eyes, unnerving her with the steeliness of her gaze, Carol says, "Then we better hope Thanos attacks us sooner than that. Because believe me, Ms. Maximoff, we're going to need your powers."

Breathing heavily, head still spinning, she smiles when Vision softly kisses her shoulder, turning into his arms and a lingering kiss. "This is definitely a worthy bed," she teases, and he grins, hand cupped over her hip.

"And has moving hotels helped the nausea?" he asks, concern in the slight furrow of his brow that she wants to lean forward and kiss away.

"I think so," she says, and she can see the relief flash through his eyes. "That curry place down the street from the last hotel just smelled awful."

"I can only hope Mr. Stark won't look at the statements from the bank and see how much we're paying for this place," he says, and she smiles and falls into another kiss. "In the meantime, order whatever you'd like from room service, Wanda."

"Are you trying to keep my strength up, babe?" she asks, making seductive eyes at him, and he smiles, fingertips trailing teasing touches over her back as he kisses her once more.

"Wanda?" A glance up, her memories dissolving back into reality, Clint looking at her from the floor while Tony glares at the instructions they're using to build two cribs for her room, awaiting the births of her children in eight weeks. "Where do you want these?"

"By the window," she says with a vague gesture. "So they can see the sun."

"They'll like that," Natasha says softly from her position folding baby clothes into a neat basket, giving Wanda a slight smile.

"Are you thinking about names yet?" Tony asks, a flicker of triumph in his eyes when he manages to connect two pieces of the frame, the instructions a crumpled mess at his feet. Noticing the glance Clint is giving him, he adds, "What? I was thinking about settling down with Pep and gifting the world with my progeny before all this, okay? Baby name books are great reading for long flights."

"I don't know," Wanda says, running a soothing hand over her bump at a kick. "I...I never really thought I'd ever become a mom. And not this soon."

"Are you gonna give them your last name?" Clint asks, yet another question she hasn't thought of the answer to, too wrapped up in grief to consider the future of her children, and tears spring hot to her eyes.

"Hey," Natasha breathes, and reaches over to clasp the hand Wanda doesn't have resting on her bump. "It's okay, Wanda." Even with tears clouding her eyes, Wanda can't miss Natasha glaring at Clint and Tony, who both look suitably contrite and return to building the crib.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Tony asks, after a silence in which he's managed to half-construct one of the cribs, while Clint sits cross-legged on the ground frowning at the instructions, a piece of wood in one white-knuckled fist. "William. For one of them." Whacking a slowly tilting bar of the crib back into place with a hammer, he huffs and continues, "It means strong-willed warrior. Like his mom."

"William Maximoff," Natasha says, and the sound of the name has Wanda's breath catching on a sob. "That's cute, right, Wanda? Kinda old-fashioned, but cute."

"Like Vizh," Wanda breathes, clutching a hand to her belly thinking of him. Her photo in his wallet, his chivalry, his way of speaking. Old-fashioned, but so sweet.

"What about Thomas for the other one?" Clint suggests, a vein pulsing in his forehead as he screws bars together with the aid of a screwdriver that keeps slipping as he swears under his breath. "Means twin. L-...I was never allowed to put it on my list in case it was tempting fate."

"William and Thomas," Wanda whispers, then, "Thomas and William," experimentally. The name fit together like puzzle pieces, the way she used to fit with Vision lying in bed together, his warmth a part of her. "I like them."

"See, you are ready," Tony says, as he triumphantly sets the final piece of the crib into place, slowly withdrawing his hands in a gesture of surrender and grinning when nothing falls. "You've got names and everything."

"And we'll be right next to you as long as you want us there," Natasha says forcefully, gripping Wanda's hand tight. "I know that you never thought you'd do this without him. And that none of us can hope to replace him. But we're here."

"I know," she breathes, and lets herself feel their love for her. Not as powerful or world-changing as the way Vision loved her. But there, and real, and alive enough to shock some warmth back into the winter of her mourning heart.

She instinctively goes to make herself the usual morning cup of coffee, but hesitates, clasping a hand to her stomach. Glancing back at Vision, she finds him sound asleep in their bed, the mind stone glowing faintly, and opens her bag as silently as she can, tossed aside when Vision pulled her into his arms the moment they were safe in their room.

Locking herself in the bathroom, she opens the box with shaking fingers, thoughts flickering through her head fast enough she almost doesn't catch all of them. Maybe she's being ridiculous. The smell of cheap takeout could make anyone feel ill. But maybe she's right.

Waiting for the two minutes to pass, she reads the instructions over and over again. Two lines, pregnant. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. One line, not pregnant. Two lines, pregnant. One line, not pregnant.

What if she is? She'll have to tell him, they'll have to figure out a way to make it work, she'll have to tell Steve and Sam and Natasha and she's never even told them she's been meeting up with Vision, she'll have to be a fugitive on the run from the UN while trying to protect an unborn baby, it all just sets her head spinning with fear.

But what if she's not? And the thought of that makes a weight crash into her chest, sadness choking her. She wants a baby. Vision's baby. No matter how terrifying it is, how bad the circumstances are for an unplanned pregnancy, she wants it to be real. They can plan. They can make it work, no matter what.

The alarm on her phone is louder than she meant it to be, making her start violently, and she sits in silence for a moment, listening for Vision waking up on the other side of the door. But there isn't a sound, and she reaches a shaking hand out to look at her future.

Two lines. Pregnant. Tears of joy in her eyes and a slow smile spreading across her face.

Carol looks up first, moments before the sky begins to cloud with grey, wind sending debris wheeling across Wakanda laid out before them, as a group gathers around the window, fear in their eyes. "He's here," Nebula breathes.

"Okay." For a moment, Tony seems a broken man, a shadow incapable of facing what they know is coming, that he turns with his eyes steely, resolve in every inch of his face. "Avengers, Guardians, random hangers-on, this is it. This is our last chance." He squeezes his hand into a fist and his suit starts to assemble over his clothes, snaking lines of metal across his skin. "Suit up."

When Wanda turns, Steve's arm snaps out to block her path, and she looks up into his solemn face. "Not you," he says sternly, the voice of a leader. "You stay here."

"Steve, please," she whispers, but his expression doesn't change. "I want to help, I can help, let me help."

"You're safer here," Steve insists, pushing her back another step. "Thanos is after your power and whatever power the twins are going to be born with, we all know that. You can't get within his reach."

"He's right, Wanda," Clint says as he swings his quiver over his shoulder, looking so small to be going outside to tackle the Mad Titan. "You can't come onto the field, it's not safe. If Thanos took you, none of us would ever forgive ourselves."

"But I want to help!" she shouts, breath catching on a sob. "Thanos took everything from me. Let me face him. I want to see the moment he realises he's dead."

"Watch from up here," Steve says, and even turning her tear-streaked face on him doesn't crack his resolve. "We're not going to let Thanos get away. Not this time. He's going to pay for what he did to us."

"We'll see him dead, Wanda," Natasha says, turning the electrical charge on her suit to maximum, determination in her eyes. "I promise."

"Don't make promises," she says softly. "People always break their promises to me."

"Not this time," Natasha says, and takes her hands tightly, fire and steel in her gaze. It's the first time Wanda has ever truly understood why the Black Widow was the most feared special agent in the world. "This time, he dies. We destroy him for everything he took."

"Hey, a-holes!" Rocket framed in the doorway, a ridiculously small figure with his almost comically large gun tossed over his shoulder, breaks the spell of the emotional moment. "This is ass-kicking time, not feelings time!"

Rolling her eyes, Natasha releases Wanda's hands and runs after the raccoon's echoing battle cry, and Clint lingers for a moment longer, pressing a paternal kiss to Wanda's forehead. "Look after yourself," he says. "We'll be back."

Steve leaves the room last, without a parting word, and she knows why. Because all the words that truly should be said is a goodbye, but no one wants to say that. If they don't believe they can win this time, there's nothing to hold on to. She stands by the wide window, a protective hand pressed tight against her bump, and watches as the portal blossoms from thin air and Thanos steps into Wakanda once again.

Tony leads the assault, armour gleaming red and gold in the September sunlight, and all Wanda can do is watch. Thanos is alone this time. No Black Order. No army of aliens. Just the Mad Titan and a half-melted Infinity Gauntlet, the stones shining out. Seeing even from afar the yellow glow of the mind stone, hatred sharpens hotly in Wanda's gut and she makes a silent promise that she won't stand idly by and watch her team die.

But this time, the battle doesn't seem to be skewed in Thanos' favour. From her faraway perspective, it even looks like her team might be winning. She watches the explosions from Clint's arrows and Rhodey and Tony's suits ricocheting around Thanos, and against her better judgement she seizes the final device from the tray of comms, holding it to her ear to better understand what she sees.

"Clint, watch it, that last arrow nearly took Tony out!"

"Sorry, Stark!"

"Just concentrate, Legolas!"

"Scott, the hell are you doing?"

"I just really wanna punch this dude in the face!"

"Scott, no!"

"But he turned Luis and Maggie to dust!"

"Punch him when we get the gauntlet off him! Danvers, how's it looking?"

"We're gonna need more help to get the whole thing off him. But I think I know how to do that. Any chance of getting Maximoff down here for a little extra push?"

"Danvers, we discussed this, bringing Wanda into Thanos' reach is too risk- agh!"

"Steve!"

Natasha's frantic scream brings Wanda's hand flying to her mouth, seeing the silhouette of the first superhero engulfed in the purple mist of the power stone before he falls, and the comm drops from her hand filled with indistinct yelling. Red rushes to her hands immediately, all thought of staying back like they told her flying away with the desire for vengeance, and she shatters the window in front of her, kicking away from the floor to land in the centre of the battle, slamming a scarlet shield down against another blast of purple.

"What the hell are you doing?" Clint roars, firing arrow after arrow so fast his arm is almost a blur, never missing, smoke spiralling around Thanos' head with every explosion. "Get back up there now!"

"Carol!" Wanda calls out, ignoring Clint's horrified stare, and Carol swings around to land in front of her, bloody strands of hair flying back from her face. "What do you need me to do?"

"We have to break the soul stone," she says, and Wanda nods, the hand not concentrating on holding back waves of power already summoning more magic, pulled from a well inside her that seems deeper than ever before. "Everyone he turned to dust will rise, and those heroes who did can join our fight."

"Okay," Wanda grits out, planting her feet more firmly in the ground, remembering why she's doing this, what it's all for, the babies in her belly who will never get to meet their father unless they win. "Tell me when."

"On my signal," Carol says, and raises her hand, the white mist of her power growing in her palm. "Wait...wait...wait...now!"

Matching beams of power spiral out towards Thanos, red and white, and his smugness when they don't hit him turns to an expression of utter horror when they strike the gauntlet. Gritting her teeth, clutching her free hand to her bump, Wanda pushes everything she has into the moment, and the soul stone shatters in a burst of orange light.

Dust spirals up from the shattered stone in a dark cloud, and slowly coalesces into the the familiar silhouettes of people she knows, people she wept for even after thinking her tears had run dry. Bucky and Sam land on the ground almost simultaneously, and Steve's expression is indescribable as he staggers to his feet and runs to them, throwing an arm around each man in an embrace. Okoye stumbles when T'Challa appears beside her, the king and his soldier holding each other. Tony lands on the ground and makes his armour withdraw in time for Peter to run at him, grabbing the child into a bone-crushing hug. Nebula buckles when a green-skinned woman appears with a group who can only be the Guardians of the Galaxy, and the gratitude in Rocket's yell of, "Quill!" is a sound Wanda will never forget.

"We are not done yet," says the man who can only be Doctor Strange in a low, solemn voice, raising his hands for gold circles of glowing magic to appear, his cape flying in the wind.

"You're right," Tony says, relinquishing Peter and disappearing back beneath his armour, the eyes of the suit glowing brighter than ever, as if feeling its owner's determination. "Let's kill this asshole."

"Wanda, get back to the palace," Steve orders, voice low, and she turns to him, hair flying and eyes blazing red.

"Not this time," she snaps, and catches a glimpse of pride shining in Natasha and Clint's eyes. "I'm gonna kill him for stopping Vizh from getting to meet his children."

"Children?!" Sam chokes out, and his eyes fall on her bump and stay there for a long moment. "Okay, how long were we dead?"

"Look out!" Nebula screeches, and Wanda barely swipes her hand in time to slam a shield up against the crackle of a shot from the reality stone.

"Alright!" Tony shouts out, his voice echoing out over their new team, the mightiest heroes in the universe. "Everyone together on this one! We can do this one more time!"

The ensuring battle is wild and confusing, everything everyone has thrown against Thanos. Wanda is aware of Peter zigzagging over her on the silvery strings of his webs, Sam and Rhodey dropping bombs that tear up the ground around Thanos, Doctor Strange's magic spiralling gold around the group and the endless roar of the fight. And a stab of agony in her stomach, distracting her for long enough that her shields fade and she nearly stumbles, clutching herself.

"Wanda!" She's not sure who screamed her name, whether it was just one or a dozen voices, but she looks up to a blast of power too close to raise her hands and stop it. But the shield still appears in front of her, shimmering red and stopping anything from hurting her, and she clasps a hand to her bump in shock.

"Was that you?" she asks softly, but there's nothing in answer from her children, and the fight distracts her again almost immediately, clasping her fist to snatch a tree creature out of the way of a blow and nodding at a grateful look from Rocket.

One of the guardians, a dark-haired woman, has somehow dodged every blow, and at a swipe from Doctor Strange she falls through the ground and reappears on Thanos' shoulders, and her shriek of, "Sleep!" fills the air.

"Everyone on this, now!" Tony yells as Thanos' eyes droop. "We need to get the gauntlet off him!"

Trying to move towards the fight, another stab of pain makes Wanda bend double, clutching at her bump, tears springing to her eyes despite how hard she grits her teeth and pushes the emotion away. "You okay?" She glances over at the voice, seeing a blonde stranger with a gun in his hand gazing at her. "Peter Quill, most folks call me Star-Lord."

"Wanda," she gasps out through the pain, then it fades as soon as it came on. "Good to meet you."

"You're really impressive," Quill says, and then races after one of his teammates, knives raised high above his head as he bellows out a battle cry.

Between the efforts of Mantis, Thor, Doctor Strange and Carol, they pull the gauntlet away from Thanos, a flash of light filling the air and blinding Wanda for a moment, before she reaches Thanos with red crackling at her fingertips, vengeful anger roiling in her gut. "Let him wake up," she snarls, and Natasha is giving her a warning look.

"He can't be trusted, Ms. Maximoff," Strange says, and Wanda glares at him, her eyes turning red. "Better to execute him while he is still under Mantis' control."

"I want him to die suffering," she snaps. "I want him to remember all the terrible things he's done in his last moments."

"Me too," Nebula says, raising her knife, and her sister falls into step at Wanda's other side. "Wake him up, Mantis."

"Get ready to run like hell," her sister says, addressing those gathered behind them. "You ready, Mantis?"

"Grab her as soon as she releases him," Wanda snaps at Sam, his wings still extended. "No one but Thanos dies here today."

There's a moment when time seems to slow down, and every action can be seen. Sam soaring over Thanos and snatching Mantis from his back, engines blazing as he flies her away from the end. Thanos' eyes slowly opening as the gauntlet is snatched away by a fleeing Thor. And the beginning of a spiral of red from Wanda's fingertips, aimed for Thanos' forehead, seeing everything he's done. All the terrible things.

"Witch," Thanos grits out shortly, and her lips tug back in a snarl. "Don't do this, my child. We are not so different, you and I."

"Leave her alone," Nebula growls low in her chest, the light gleaming on her knife. "You will not ruin another life."

"I...saved lives," Thanos says, and Nebula is shaking her head. "Gamora...little one...tell them."

"I'll tell you something," Gamora says, stepping forward with eyes flashing. "You are the most evil being I have ever met. You will die here, and you will see every terrible thing you have done. And what was it all for? You've lost."

"My children..." Thanos breathes, getting weaker, and Wanda increases the surge of power, something spiralling up from within her to make the beam brighter and brighter, ripping the deranged mind apart.

"My children are facing a world without their father because of you," she says, and tears spill suddenly down her cheeks. "I hope you suffer for eternity for what you've done."

A clench of her fist, and Thanos' screaming echoes around the country, terrible agonised screaming. Gamora looks away, a single tear shining on her cheek, and Nebula seems frozen in place, staring as her adoptive father collapses to his knees, only the whites of his eyes showing. Beyond the rush of sound in her ears, the strength of her power burning through her, Wanda hears Gamora whisper, "Goodbye, father."

And it's over. A brief flash of light, and Thanos is gone. Erased from the world, from their lives, defeated at last. Pain blossoms suddenly in Wanda's stomach, tears spilling down her cheeks before she feels them coming, and she falls, almost hitting the ground before someone catches her, murmuring, "Whoa whoa whoa!" Forcing herself to look up, her body caught in a vice of pain, she meets Peter's eyes, just a child caught up in this madness, concerned for her. "Are you alright, Miss...um, Miss Witch?"

"I think my water just broke," she breathes indistinctly, and Peter's eyes go wide, his face paling several shades so he almost looks grey, and he turns around and screams for Tony.

"Oh holy shit!" Tony shouts back, and he's at Wanda's side, crouching over her, and she can barely meet his eyes through the sudden grip of panic and pain on her body. "We need a doctor!"

"Bruce is a doctor!"

"Not that kind of doctor, Clint!"

"I can do it. I delivered my daughter myself."

"No, Drax!"

"Strange?" Tony asks, looking up at the silhouette Wanda can make out through suddenly fuzzy vision, cape moving seemingly independently at his shoulders. "You're a proper people doctor, right?"

"A neurologist, Mr. Stark."

"Same thing."

"I'm afraid a neurologist is actually very different from a gynaecologist, Stark," Doctor Strange says coolly, and the pain finally ebbs away for a moment, letting Wanda sit up. "But Ms. Maximoff needs medical attention urgently."

"No," she whispers, and holds a hand out until Tony helps her stagger to her feet, nearly stumbling over her own fear. "Have to get the stone...Vizh..."

"We'll do it," Carol says, floating down to land gracefully beside her. "I'll take the stone to Princess Shuri myself. Everything will be made right."

"Thor!" Tony calls out, and turns to Wanda, eyes filled with concern. "Who do you want next to you, Wanda?"

"Nat," she sobs out. "Clint."

"Done," Tony says, as Thor lands next to them. "You carry her. I'll get Clint, Rhodey, you get Nat. Walking isn't gonna be fast enough."

"But I can't-" Another wave of pain rocks through her and cuts her off, Thor's arm shooting out to support her. "I can't have the babies now!"

"There's no going back," Doctor Strange says, just as she watches Rhodey grab Natasha's hand and soar with her back towards the palace. "Good luck, Ms. Maximoff."

Thor pulls her into his arms, the pain too much for her to protest, and flies her to the medical wing of the palace, Natasha already there and wiping dirt, blood and sweat from her hands, Doctor Mamadou grim-faced and tapping incessantly at screens. "Your children certainly have an impeccable sense of timing," Natasha remarks, throwing her weapons down and helping Wanda lean back on the table, shaking violently.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Wanda sobs, another contraction pulling every part of her into agony, her bump hard with tension beneath her frantic hand. "Nat, please, tell me it's going to be okay."

"Of course it is," Natasha promises, and manages a soft smile. "Look what you can do. You just destroyed the most powerful being in the history of the universe. You can do this too."

Doctor Mamadou moves around her, pressing monitors onto her bump, and a swipe of her hands brings up a golden version of what must be happening inside her, both terrifying and awe-inspiring to see. "It looks like this is going to go very fast," she says, as another contraction forces a thin scream from Wanda's chest, tears hot on her skin. "Try to breathe, Ms. Maximoff. Staying calm will help your labour stay shorter and keep your babies from getting distressed."

Clint rushes to her side when he arrives, taking her hand in his and pushing strands of hair away from her sweat-slick face. "Nat, get a flannel, cold water," he says, and Natasha turns away to do so, and the cooling sensation when they lay it gently over her forehead makes Wanda sigh out in relief. "You're doing great, kiddo. Is there anything you need?"

"Vizh," she breathes through the agony, and Clint shakes his head. "No, please, you have to. I did it, I got the stone, I saved him, he should be here. I need him."

"Wanda, he's gone," Clint says, and she sobs, no matter how much Natasha shushes her, dabbing another flannel over her face and neck to blot the sweat away. "You need to concentrate on the babies right now."

"I never wanted to do this without him!" Crying in earnest, in agony beyond what she ever imagined childbirth would be, she gathers her strength and screams, "Vision!" at the burst of a contraction, and the look on Natasha's face when she slumps again is heartbreaking.

"Ms. Maximoff, calm down," Doctor Mamadou insists, staring at the monitor in concern. "You are distressing the babies. You need to stay still and breathe."

"Wanda?" The voice has twined through her dreams so often that she thinks she's unconscious, maybe dying, drifting in a world of dreams. But Clint's jaw is slack, Natasha's eyes wide, and they both drop her hands, and when she turns her head Vision is standing in the doorway, staring at her. "I heard you scream."

"Vizh," she says through a sob, and he moves across the room to her side, his grip tight on her wrist as he kisses her hand over and over again, and she's crying, barely able to speak through rasping, breathless sobs. "I love you too, Vizh, I love you so much, I'm so sorry I didn't say it, I love you, I love you, I love you, stay with me, please stay with me."

"Always," he whispers, and there are tears in his eyes, one slipping down his cheek, and she sobs when he puts a gentle hand on her bump, wonder in the slow spread of his smile. "I love you, Wanda."

"I love you too," she gasps, and clenches her hand in his at another contraction, clinging to him. "Vizh, it hurts!"

"I'm so sorry, Wanda, darling, I'm so sorry," he whispers frantically, tears warm against the hand she cups weakly to his cheek, pressing another kiss into her palm. "It's my fault you're in pain, mine, I should've had more thorough tests, I didn't know we could conceive, I'm sorry-"

"Don't...don't you dare apologise," she breathes, giving him a tremulous smile. "I wanted these babies the second I suspected the nausea wasn't just because of the curry place."

"Babies?" he repeats, eyes wide, and she nods, and he sobs aloud, a sound she's never heard before. "We're having twins?" Another nod, and he bends low over her, a look in his eyes she's always waited to see, his love for her bright and blooming in the blue she knows by heart. "I love you so much," he breathes, and kisses her, their lips crashing together for the first time in months, and she clings to him, the familiarity of his mouth on hers.

The kiss only breaks at her helpless pained whimper at another contraction, and Vision drops a kiss on her sweat-slick forehead, the golden glow of the mind stone familiar, making her heart sing. "I'm so sorry I missed all of this," he says softly, and she shakes her head slightly, trying to breathe through the pain. "But I'm here now. I'm never leaving you again."

"It's time for you to push, Ms. Maximoff," Doctor Mamadou says, her eyes comforting and warm. Natasha grabs Wanda's other hand, clinging tight, Clint at her side too, and Vision kisses her hand, his fingertips digging into her skin, reminding her he's real.

Pain bursts through her, trapping her, her agonised yell helpless, and she feels the brush of a familiar mind against hers, the gentle glow of Vision's consciousness trying to help. She lets him in, embracing the peacefulness of his mind, sharing in her pain while he holds her hand tight, brushing a kiss over the third finger where she always imagined she'd wear his ring one day. Now that's a dream that can become a reality.

A thin wail fills the room, growing stronger by the second, and she weakly lifts her head to glimpse her first child, her son, squirming in Doctor Mamadou's arms. Clint's eyes are bright with tears, Vision crying in earnest, and Natasha is the one who helps Wanda adjust herself to take hold of her son, gazing down at a tiny face, new but familiar, half of her and half of Vision. "Hi," she breathes, stroking a fingertip over the dark down of hair. "Hi Thomas." Glancing to Vision, seemingly speechless, she asks, "Thomas is a good name, right?"

"Any name you want is good," he manages to say, voice tremulous with emotion, and leans over her in concern when she winces.

"Hold him," she says, and there's no time for hesitation, only for the wonder that bursts warm in her chest watching Vision cradle their son for the first time, something indescribable in his eyes, Thomas' tiny hand grasping the finger Vision trails so carefully down his cheek. Father and son, together in a way she doubted they would ever be.

The second twin arrives faster, almost in the blink of an eye, and soon she's holding their second son, looking down into curious blue eyes. "William," she says, and Vision nods. "Thomas Anthony. William Bruce."

"We'll go tell them you're naming your kids after them," Natasha says. "Congratulations, you two. Take some time alone."

Shifting her legs aside, Wanda watches Vision sit on the table next to her, all of his attention on their son in his arms. "They have your nose," she says softly, and he looks up at her like he would in the mornings, like every moment with her was a blessing. "And your eyes."

"All babies have blue eyes, Wanda," he says, and she smiles.

"Not your blue," she says. "It's identical." Watching him a moment longer, gazing down at Thomas in his arms, she breathes, "I missed you. I..." Vision's hand stretches out to cup her face as she tears up, forcing out the words, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I'm here," he says, and clutches Thomas tighter to his chest, moving closer to her. "I want to make you a promise, Wanda. I should've given you it a long time ago, when I knew what you mean to me. I promise that I will never leave your side again. I promise that we will always be together. I promise that I will always love you, for as long as you want my love."

"I want you forever, Vizh," she says, and his eyes light up, and he cranes towards her so carefully, trying not to squash their sons.

"Then I'm here forever," he breathes, and kisses her broken heart whole again, their family cradled safe between them.