My breath hitched in my throat.

  It hit me like a physical blow. Grief, It wasn't mine… well, it was, but it was amplifying hers. I could feel the gaping hole in her chest where Vision used to be. I could feel the echo of Pietro, a phantom limb pain that never went away.

  For a second, I forgot about the timeline. I forgot that, in this universe, to her, I was a stranger.

  I wanted to drop the basket. I wanted to run to her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and scream, 'I’m here! I’m real! You’re not alone! Look at me, Wanda! It’s Aryan! It’s your Aryan!'

  My feet twitched, ready to move.

  Stop, I commanded myself. Control. Control, Aryan.

  I clenched my fist at my side, my nails digging into my palm until it stung.

  If I went to her now, I’d look insane. I’d be just another crazy fan, or worse, a threat. She was volatile. And she was hurting so much it was radiating off her like heat waves.

  I forced myself to turn back to the yogurt. My hand was shaking. I grabbed the tub, gripping it so hard the plastic nearly buckled.

  Just breathe, I thought. Just be a neighbor. Just be a guy buying yogurt.

  But I couldn't help it. I drifted back to her. She was moving now, turning her cart. She was coming down the aisle.

  Toward me.

  [Perspective Shift: Wanda Maximoff]

  The grocery store was too loud. Not the noise… but the life. The colors were too bright. The choices were too many. Cereal boxes screaming with mascots. Detergents promising a happier life.

  It was all a lie.

  Wanda pushed her cart mechanically. One squeaky wheel chirped a rhythm that grated on her nerves.

  Squeak.

  Squeak.

  Squeak.

  She just needed food. She wasn't hungry, but she knew she had to eat. Vision would have wanted her to eat.

  Vision.

  The name was a shard of glass in her mind. She pushed it away, focusing on the linoleum floor.

  She turned into the dairy aisle for milk.

  As she stepped into the aisle, she stopped.

  There was a man standing about halfway down, staring at the yogurt like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. He was tall, with dark hair and a build that suggested he wasn't unfamiliar with physical work, though he was dressed casually.

  But it wasn't his appearance that made her stop.

  It was the hum.

  Her powers had been quiet lately, a dull ache beneath her skin, but suddenly, they flared.

  She frowned, her eyes narrowing beneath the brim of her cap.

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  She felt... Pietro.

  It was faint, like the smell of ozone after a storm has passed, but it was there. That familiar presence that had always buzzed around her brother. It was clinging to this stranger.

  And beneath that... she felt herself.

  Not the hollow shell she was now. But a version of herself that felt... loved.

  Curiosity, a sensation she hadn't felt in weeks, tugged at her. She pushed her cart forward, the squeaky wheel announcing her approach.

  The man seemed intensely focused on the nutrition label of the yogurt. But Wanda could sense the tension in his shoulders.

  As she passed him, the space between them seemed to compress. The air grew heavy.

  Without meaning to, her magic reached out. An invisible tendril of red mist uncurled from her fingertip and brushed against the fabric of his reality.

  [The Vision]

  Flash.

  The grocery store vanished.

  Rain… relentless rain.

  Wanda was seeing through the eyes of... herself. But not herself.

  She was standing under a large black umbrella. The stranger from the dairy aisle… was holding it. But he looked younger. He was smiling at her and the look in his eyes… It was a look of absolute adoration.

  “Because nobody should be cold,” he said.

  The scene shifted.

  She saw herself and a living Pietro sitting at a dining table. They were laughing. The stranger… Aryan, a voice in her head supplied… was passing Pietro a bowl of stew. Pietro bumped Aryan’s shoulder, a gesture of brotherly affection.

  Pietro is alive here, Wanda realized with a jolt of agony and joy. They are happy.

  She felt the emotions of this other Wanda. And the way Aryan’s presence felt like a warm blanket on a winter night.

  The scene shifted.

  A living room. Music playing. She was dancing with him. She felt the ring in his pocket… she didn't see it, but the other Wanda knew it was there. He was nervous. He was going to ask her. And she was going to say yes.

  “I love you,” the other Wanda said.

  “I love you,” Aryan replied.

  The love was so intense, so pure, it burned her soul. It was what she had with Vision, but different. More human.

  Then, the sky tore open.

  The screams.

  Ultron.

  But not the Ultron she knew. This was Violent.

  She saw them running. Aryan, Pietro and her variant. They were holding hands. They were civilians. They had no powers. They were just people running from monsters.

  The flash of blue light.

  The deafening crack of sonic cannons.

  She saw Pietro fall. His chest... gone.

  She saw her variant stumble. A red bloom spreading across her shirt.

  "No!"

  The scream ripped from Aryan’s throat. It was the sound of a soul shattering.

  The vision zoomed in. Aryan was on his knees in the mud. He was holding her… holding the dead Wanda. He was shaking her, begging her to open her eyes. His tears were mixing with the rain, washing away the blood on her face.

  He loves me, Wanda thought, her heart breaking for this stranger. He loved her and he lost her.

  Suddenly, the horizon dissolved. The ground beneath Aryan turned to dust. The sky turned a terrifying shade of nothingness. Everything was collapsing. Wanda didn't understand what she was seeing.

  She saw him, still clutching her dead body, being pulled upward. He was unconscious, his face a mask of agony. A rift opened… he was sucked into it.

  The universe behind him simply... ceased to be.

  He survived, she thought. He’s the only one left.

  [End of Vision]

  Snap.

  Wanda gasped, stumbling slightly. Her grip on the shopping cart was the only thing keeping her upright.

  She was back in the grocery store. The fluorescent lights were humming. The squeak of the wheel was still echoing.

  She stopped the cart, her chest heaving. She looked at the man… Aryan.

  He was still standing there, staring at the yogurt.

  Her mind was reeling.

  It was real, she thought. The residual energy existed because her other self had been so obsessed with him, so desperate to love and protect him, that her unawakened magic had latched onto him. It had become a permanent shield, fusing to his reality as a lingering protector.

  A complicated web of emotions tightened around her heart.

  Jealousy. Jealous that another version of her got to live a normal life with her brother and this man. A life without Hydra and without experiments.

  Grief for him. She saw him holding her corpse. She knew that pain. It was the same pain she felt every morning waking up without Vision.

  Suddenly, a feeling took hold of her heart. It was the most dangerous feeling she had ever felt. It was a feeling of possessiveness, a need to possess him. It uncurled in her gut like a dark flower.

  He is alone, she thought. Like me. He lost his Wanda. I lost my Vision. The universe brought him here. To me.

  She looked at his back. He seemed so ordinary. But she had seen the way he looked at her in the rain. She had felt the heartbeat of a love that belonged only to her.