"Why would you have known?" Wanda says, proud of herself for the steady tone of her voice. Last time, she'd had anger to smother up the grief. Now she just has the quiet of the apartment, broken up by a dog resting his head on her thigh and whining in concern. Absently, she scratches his ears. The question is neither condemnation nor absolution, just the statement of a sad fact. Her country has been everyone's dumping ground and captive.

"It doesn't matter if the weapons were sold legally or illegally, they exploded just the same. And sometimes, we argue and I look at you and I forget how big a company is. It's just you."

Breathing out, Wanda can't keep eye contact anymore. She drops her head down into her hand, pressing firmly against her eyes because she will not, cannot cry. Tony had anger and loss and it made him volatile. She's not much different.

"It's not as though you were the one who came into our apartment. It was just one of your products. It was made, it was sold, and some warlord dropped it. But for ten years it was easier to remember that one name."

The truth was that Tony Stark had been part of the machine of war, an important part like an engine, but still just one part of an intricate and messy series of links. "Sometimes, I get angry at you over things happening now and it mixes together. It's not fair." Not to either of them.