If she weren't so distressed, Wanda would've laughed her incredulity at that, given all the horrific scenarios going through her head at the moment. As it was, she stared wide-eyed in confusion and shook her head slightly. "Last time I saw you, you were ready to kill me," she pointed out, uncertain. Wanda knew she hadn't murdered anyone, but that didn't mean she hadn't hurt her nephew, or Wicked. She'd been dangerous enough to be strapped down and isolated at S.H.I.E.L.D. and here, to have an armed guard at the door while she lay in a coma. Something had to have happened, and no one was telling her.
"Is Joe-" she began, and had to swallow thickly when her voice broke on the question. The damn tears again, she pressed her fingers to her eyes and looked up to meet Wicked's gaze. Wanda owed her that, at least. "What did I do to him? What did I do to you?"