The first time he'd visited, she'd slammed the door in his face.

It wasn't anything personal – in fact, once she knew it was him, she'd opened the door and let him in. But that first glimpse… well, he didn't look anything like himself. Which made sense: Vision couldn't really walk around Edinburgh without a glamour and not attract attention; he was bright red, after all. Even given the Scottish proclivity to burn in the sun, that was asking a bit much for people to ignore, especially in the middle of winter.

How he'd found her, she wasn't sure – then again, he was an all-knowing AI that could hack into lesser security systems with barely a thought. Tracking her down couldn't have been too difficult.

That first time, he'd whispered through the door, trying to calm her down. He'd even remembered their conversations in Avengers Tower, about not walking through walls.

'Wanda,' he'd whispered. 'Wanda, it's me. It's Vision. I just want to talk to you.'

His voice had sounded right – calm and measured, with a formal English accent. But it was the undercurrent of sadness that had convinced her. The trace of suppressed emotion that had marked their last few interactions before she'd left.

When she let him in, neither of them moved away from the door she closed behind him. Wanda simply stood there, trying to reconcile the Vis she knew with the man in front of her now.

His glamour made him look like a normal human – tall, with short blond hair. Gone was the stone at the peak of his forehead; the stone that felt odd, but also so innately part of Vis that it was strange for him to be without it. But his eyes were the same: icy blue, solemn and serious, with a direct gaze that only softened when he looked at her.

The way they softened now.

He seemed wary, almost unwilling to speak, as it if it would break the fragile temporary peace between them. Equally unwilling to disturb the silence, Wanda merely caught his hand in hers. It felt like real flesh, rather than warm metal, as it had the last time they'd touched.

They simply stood there in silence for what felt like hours, drinking each other in. finally, Wanda couldn't take the silence anymore. 'How did you find me?'

'I got a message to Captain Rogers. I just wanted to know if you were alright. He said you were in Edinburgh somewhere, but he wasn't sure where, and that he hadn't actually heard from you in a while. So I came to find you.' He shrugged, a very human gesture for someone who wasn't very human. 'Steve says to call soon.'

Wanda half-smiled, but it quickly faded. If Vis had found her that easily, couldn't the UN? Steve had got them out of the Raft, but since then they'd been on the run. If they tracked her down… Wanda shuddered at the thought.

Vis seemed to have followed her train of thought. 'No one's going to find you. I was careful. And apart from Tony, and maybe Bruce, no one else has the technology necessary to track you down this fast. And neither of them are looking for you.'

'Tony isn't looking for us?' Wanda wanted to be relieved, but all she felt was surprise. Too many surprises today.

'Not anymore. He wanted to, but Pepper talked him out of it. Something about leaving at least one bridge unburnt, I think.'

Wanda nodded, unsure what to say. She'd never known Pepper that well, but now she was irrationally grateful to her apparent saviour. She was enjoying the anonymity of Edinburgh too much to have to pack up and find somewhere else to hide.

Vis didn't stay long – only an hour or so, long enough to make sure she was okay, for her to give him ways of contacting her other than going to the extreme of flying to Edinburgh. When he left, to get back to Stark Tower before anyone really noticed he was gone, she'd called Steve. He sounded glad to hear she was alright, but somewhat wary of the fact that Vis had found her so easily.

'Vis wouldn't tell anyone about me,' she assured him. She hadn't even needed to ask. She just knew.

The second time he came, she let him in straight away. Of course, this time, she'd had warning of his arrival – not many people had her mobile number, so when she received a message simply saying, 'Coming soon,' it wasn't hard to guess who it was from.

They talked for hours, the remaining awkwardness melting away the longer he stayed. She told him of her job in a tourist shop, one of dozens along the Royal Mile. Of how she went by Maxi. Of how her accent was barely noticeable in this city of strange voices.

Of how, over the winter, a big man with a strong Scots voice came into the shop to escape from the wind and the torrential rain and they'd got to talking. He worked around the castle, liaising with other National Trust sites across the country, working to preserve historic buildings. Of how, when she heard his name was Pietro, it was all she could do to stop herself from crying.

'I think my brother would have liked him,' she whispered. 'He was funny. Bold and brash and unafraid to sound ridiculous.'

He told her of Rhodey's improvement – Mr Stark had built braces for his legs to help support them. How Rhodey refused to accept the minute alterations Tony came up with every other day. He spoke of Tony's attachment to this new superhero he'd found – Spiderman. He was barely sixteen, and Tony felt as protective of him as he did of Harley Keener, who now had an internship at the Stark Industries compound in Tennessee. The pair had met a few times, and now Peter – the spider child – was almost as awed by the mention of Harley as he was by Tony himself, even though they were only a couple of years apart in age.

As dawn approached, he'd prepared to leave again. She whispered, 'Next time, stay for longer.'

He hadn't answered, instead running his fingers down the side of her face, leaving a trail of fire behind his touch that had nothing to do with the warmth of his hands.

The third time he visited, he stayed for two whole days. They visited the castle, walking along the Royal Mile in the early summer sunshine, the heat of the sun warming their skin even as the chill of the breeze brought goosebumps to their arms. Well, to Wanda's. As human as Vis looked, she kept forgetting that he wasn't actually human. She'd pointed out the shop she worked at, even waving at a few people who worked in the surrounding shops and cafés.

After each of these encounters, Vis looked at her with an unreadable expression. She asked what he was thinking when they got back to her flat, just before he had to leave again.

'You seem happy here,' he replied.

'I am,' she said, almost surprising herself. This city was meant to be an escape, but somehow she'd found peace here too.

I'm glad,' Vis said. 'I'm glad.' The words might have been positive, but there was a wistfulness to his voice as he spoke. Wanda wondered whether, in his short life, Vis had actually ever been truly, properly happy. When she asked him as much, he was silent for a moment, then said:

'When we all lived in Avengers Tower. That day I first tried to help you make food.'

Wanda remembered that day. It was raining, and she hadn't wanted to leave the tower, so instead, she decided to spend the day cooking. She'd tried to recreate one of her mother's recipes, cobbled together from what she remembered from childhood and recipes she'd found online. Vis was curious about the process, and had offered to help. It had been a disaster – the recipes all gave different instructions, and trying to combine all the instructions hadn't worked at all. The guláš had tasted awful.

But it was still one of her favourite memories: Vis kept making her laugh, either by telling ridiculous jokes that he'd probably heard from Sam, or maybe Clint, or by doing something mundane with such a confused expression that she could barely hold in her laughter. She hadn't laughed that much since her twin had died – in fact, there weren't many days even with her brother that she'd laughed that much.

Then it was time for him to leave again, and by some impulse, he'd leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. They had both frozen, but then Wanda had stretched up and kissed him on the lips. It was fleeting, but Vis had blushed as deeply red as the metal of his true form. After he left, she'd touched her fingers to her lips, where she could still feel the pressure of his mouth against hers.

The fourth time he visited, he stayed for a week. She took a week off from work and they explored Edinburgh together, visiting the Old Town, little markets across town, the Scott Monument. Each place they went, Wanda took a picture of Vis on her phone, to document their time together, and to have something tangible so she could remember the exact blue of his eyes, the spikes of his hair. The twist of his mouth as he smiled.

They spent a day in St Andrews. On the train there, watching the scenery race past, mostly by the sea, sunlight glinting off the water, her head on his shoulder… Wanda hadn't felt that peaceful in a long time.

When they arrived, they visited the cathedral, which was mostly ruins, but in the summer sunshine still had the remnants of its former grandeur. They wandered among the graves, which were so old and weather-beaten that they too were falling down. At lunchtime, they sat on an outcropping of rock on the beach as Wanda ate her fish and chips, listening to the waves crash onto the sand. An inquisitive seagull kept hopping closer to them, until Vis had to shoo it away. Afterwards, they went for a walk along the beach. Vis kept hold of her hand the whole time.

Another day, they took a bus through town to the Botanic Gardens. Everything was in full bloom, the green of the bushes offset but the riot of colours from the flowers. But despite the beauty of the gardens, Wanda didn't let herself enjoy it. She pulled Vision along smooth paths and rougher trails, towards the centre of the grounds. As they approached a large house – both a museum and a café – she suddenly veered off to the side, treading with more care as she crossed a flower bed, Vis in tow. Then she stopped, and, tugging a set of vines aside, gestured at Vis to go ahead of her. He frowned, but ducked under the stone archway she had revealed. Wanda followed him, letting the vines swing back into place behind her.

They found themselves in a small clearing – a patch of grass hidden from the rest of the gardens, on one side by a stone wall, on the others by bushes and trees with branches brushing the ground. There were daisies everywhere, carpeting the grass with white and the occasional blush of pink.

'What is this place?' Vis asked softly, not wanting to disturb the peace of the glade. All the sounds of the park had disappeared – only the rustle of leaves remained.

'I'm not sure,' Wanda replied. 'I don't think many people know about it. I found it when I visited in the winter. It's a lot barer, and a lot colder, but still beautiful – especially if there's been an icy snap, and the leaves are all white with frost. I went into the café, to warm up, then came back out into the field there.' She pointed behind them. 'There was a gap in the trees by the field. I went through it, and saw this clearing through the branches. Since then… I just come here if I need to think.'

Vis looked at her steadily, his eyes full of something she couldn't quite describe. 'Thank you… for sharing this place with me.'

A half-smile tugged at her lips. Instead of replying, she tugged him down next to her as she sat down. He stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his hands, tipping his head back to let the sunshine warm his face. Once he was comfortable, Wanda lay down on the grass, her head in his lap. He stiffened for a second, then relaxed. He always seemed so calm and collected, Wanda often forgot how new he was to this – to these little gestures of affection.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the sunshine, until Wanda got bored. She picked a few daisies and sent them floating across the clearing with her magic as Vis played with her hair. Feeling that that wasn't enough, she picked a few more and concentrated until they floated, perfectly controlled, around Vis's head. Vis laughed, then shifted, making her sit up. He stood, pulling her up after him. He tucked a daisy behind her ear, the white petals bright against the red of her hair. This time, when he kissed her, it wasn't a fleeting brush of lips. It was slow and lingering and made her insides turn to water.

The other times, when he left, Wanda missed him, but this time it was different – like he'd taken a part of her with him. Over the weeks that followed, she kept replaying that afternoon in the clearing in her head. She looked at the photos of him every night before she went to sleep, and it was only on a chilly September night that she realised why: she had fallen for him hard, even worse than she had before the Raft.

The fifth time he visited, he could only stay a couple of days. Tony would get suspicious if he took more time away, or if the absences grew longer, so Vis decided a shorter visit might be better this time.

The weather was getting colder again, the leaves changing from green to vibrant reds and yellows, before falling to the ground and crunching underfoot; mornings so crisp your cheeks were red by the time you walked a block; evenings so brisk you needed three thick layers before even considering going outside after dark.

They stayed inside a lot that weekend – going for coffee, watching a film, staying at home, wrapped in blankets. But when the time came for Vis to leave, they ventured out, savouring the last moments they had together.

Walking through the dark town – night fell early now, and the streetlights did little to brighten the roads – towards the train station, the wind whipping along the streets, blowing Wanda's hair in her face and her scarf behind her, the cold nipping at their noses, Wanda felt a strange sense of peace. Wandering here, with Vis by her side… it felt right. How their lives should be. Instead, they had to hide, snatching moments here and there, rather than building something permanent.

Vis said something, making her laugh, just as they approached the station. They slowed, not wanting the night to end. He adjusted her scarf, wrapping it more securely around her throat. Still holding the scarf, he pulled her closer and kissed her, slow and sweet. When Wanda drew away, she gazed at him, drinking this last memory of him in.

'Wanda… I think… I think I love you.' He said it hesitantly, almost as if he were confused, but there was no mistaking the truth of the words.

Wanda stared, wide-eyed, even as her face lit up in a smile brighter than the lights of the station. 'I think I love you, too.'

This time, when he kissed her, Wanda felt like everything was falling into place. And when he left, to board his train, she realised how much she wanted this. How much she wanted it to be normal.

How much she wanted a life with the man she loved.

His sixth visit came in January, a year after his first. He'd wanted to be there for Christmas, but something had come up, and he couldn't risk running off. So instead, he came just after New Year, when Edinburgh was grey and gloomy, the lights of the Christmas market gone, replaced by the sludge of melted snow, the brown of old trees thrown out and left on the streets, misty days where the iron sky never brightened, when the cold bit and the rain froze on the pavement.

He came bearing gifts, guessing that Wanda's Christmas would have been fairly dismal, given that she lived alone, and many of her friends had families of their own to celebrate with.

He was partly right – Christmas may have been lonely, but New Year had been fun: in Scotland, Hogmanay celebrations meant people filled the streets on New Year's Eve, visiting friends and family and waiting for the fireworks. One of her co-workers had invited her to a get-together, involving fireworks, singing, and whiskey. Despite the festivities, however, Wanda couldn't help wishing Vis was there with her.

And a week later, he was.

His gifts were eclectic. A red coat, similar to her old one that had been taken away in the Raft. A ruby necklace, the exact colour of her magic. A package from Steve, Nat and Sam, full of little things they'd found in their travels: a shot glass from Poland; an opal from Vietnam; a paua shell from New Zealand; a jade bracelet from China; a traditional Ojibwe dreamcatcher from the First Nation peoples of Canada. She smiled at these, appreciating what they meant – the others were safe, travelling, and thinking of her, hoping she was safe too.

Wanda's gifts were practical: a soft cashmere jumper; a woolly hat (Vis hadn't quite got the hang of keeping his ears warm yet); a book on Scottish legends.

'I have something else for you,' Vis said. Wanda looked up to see him phase into his true form. She started – she wasn't expecting to see him in his naturally unnatural bright red, gold and yellow. He focused, projecting something from the strange gem in his forehead. At first it seemed ethereal, translucent, but after a minute it became more solid, until there was a miniature version of the same stone hovering in the air. Vis shook his head to clear it from the intensity of the last moments, and reached up to pluck it from the air.

He placed it in her cupped palms, and she stroked it with her thumb.

'What is it?'

'It's a part of me. So that I am always with you.' He spoke simply, but Wanda knew what this meant – that he trusted her to keep this gem safe. But more than that, Wanda loved this little jewel, because when she touched it with her magic, it felt like Vis.

Inspired by his gift, she removed a ring from her finger. Teasing a spark of her magic out, she enchanted the ring to tie that spark to it. She held it out to him, and when he extended his hand to her, she slipped the ring onto his finger.

He twisted it, then looked up in surprise. 'It feels like you.'

'As does this,' she said, holding up the gem. A glance of understanding passed between them, before Vis nodded.

'Thank you, Wanda. I will treasure it always.'

'As will I.'

Her Christmas may have been lonely, but this time together more than made up for it. But despite the certainty that no one was actually looking for her, Wanda couldn't help feeling as though these moments of tranquillity were merely the calm before the storm.

The seventh time he visited, he asked if he could stay.

They had been at home, in her flat, when he'd felt the stone in his forehead flicker. She tested it with her magic, but couldn't feel anything amiss. When he kissed her, as if they had all the time in the world, she didn't think about it again.

They were heading for the train station when he asked. He'd stumbled over his words, unsure if she felt the same, wanted the same things, hoped for the same future, which was ridiculous – of course she did. She wished she had just said yes. If she had, maybe they would have just gone home. Maybe they would still be in Edinburgh, peaceful and happy and together.

Instead, she worried about their promises – him to Tony, her to Nat. She worried that, in taking something for herself, something more than simply being left alone, she might lose what little she had. She worried that they were superheroes; that she was still technically on the run; that they might always have to leave at a moment's notice.

But all of that paled in importance when Vis said he thought it worked – that they worked. These stolen moments didn't amount to a real life together, but they could.

But the seventh time he visited, everything fell apart.

She didn't answer and he backtracked, fearful he was overstepping, but she moved out from behind him, barely listening, to see the TV screen in the shop in front of them. It showed footage of an attack on New York by… were those aliens? Tony was missing, and the city was in ruins.

All thoughts of a tranquil life together disappeared.

'I have to go,' Vis said, kissing her hand.

He stepped away from her, and was stabbed through the middle.

The next days were a blur. First they had to fight to escape the aliens that had come for the Mind Stone. Then Steve, Nat, and Sam brought them to New York, then Wakanda, where a battle for the world began.

Wanda gave everything, but it wasn't enough. She did ask Vis asked, taking the Mind Stone from him, killing him herself, but all that pain, the guilt and the anger, it was all for nothing. Thanos simply used the Time Stone to bring him back to take the stone. Vis died twice, and it wasn't enough.

When the snap came, as she guarded Vis's body, not wanting to leave him alone, her last thought was simply, 'Yes.'

The seventh time he visited, she was so close to having everything she ever wanted, but instead, they both lost everything.

The first time she visited him, she cried.

She was back in New York, where a monument had been erected to the Avengers (and friends) who had died in the fight against Thanos. Tony, Natasha, Gamora, and Loki, along with countless others, were all commemorated there.

And Vision. Not the first to die, and not the last. The first in no one's eyes except her own.

It was a beautiful day, bright and cloudless, warm in the sunshine but chilly in the shade. The sun warmed her back and shoulders as she stood by the memorial, tracing his name with her fingers.

'I miss you,' she said. 'I wanted you to stay. I wanted us to have a life.' She blinked and a tear slid down her cheek.

'I can't go back. Not without you. It wouldn't be the same. So I'm going to stay here, with Sam and Bucky and Rhodey. I'm going to take over from Nat – Fury and Maria are still the official… directors? managers? agents? of the Avengers, but they need someone to co-ordinate all the Avengers across the world – and the universe, I guess. It's a lot of work, but I want to do it. I want to be busy. I want to do something useful.' The tears were running freely now, but her voice was strong, her back straight.

'I'm tired of running.'

She turned to leave, but stopped as an idea occurred to her. She turned back to the memorial, and, laying a hand over Vis's name, willed a spark of her magic to the surface, like she had for the ring so long ago. The flicker of her magic glimmered, then sank into the stone. After a moment, she removed her hand, revealing Vision's name, now glowing red against the silver of the marble monument.

'A part of me, to stay with you,' she whispered, then spun on her heel and left, stalking along the paths of the park, the look on her face daring anyone to comment, or take a picture of the crying Avenger. As she got further away, the ruby gleam of Vis's name pulsed, then faded. It would grow stronger when Wanda was close, but otherwise, the only thing marking it as different from the other names on the memorial was the slight reddish tinge to the engraved letters.

Wanda did not visit the memorial often, after that. But when she did, she would tell Vis about her life.

The life they could have had together was gone. But that didn't stop her from living a life of her own.

And she damn well intended to live a good one.

.

.

.

Hey guys!

This seems like quite a random pairing to write about (and I admit, it is), but in Infinity War, they were in Edinburgh, which is my hometown, and I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write about my city. Though it doesn't hurt that Wanda and Vis are really cute.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! If you did, leave a review - I love reading them and hearing what you thought. If not, leave a review anyway - I really do want to improve.

Thanks for reading!

Love,

NewtPevensie xoxoxox