AN: So the instant Scarlet Witch and Vison looked at each other in Age of Ultron, I knew how much I shipped them, and that I had to write something because there is next to nothing on this site for them. WARNING: I'M ASSUMUNG YOU'VE SEEN AOU ALREADY, OTHERWISE YOU PROBRABLY WOULDN'T BE HERE, BUT THIS STORY CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS AND I WOULDN'T RECOMMEND YOU READING IT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT. Enjoy!
Chapter 1 – Nightmares
When Wanda bolted upright, she was out of breath and coated in a cold sweat. The bed she was lying in was shockingly unfamiliar, and she scrambled out of the covers as quickly as she could. She was halfway across the bed when she realised she was in her room in Stark's Tower and nothing could possibly hurt her.
She often woke up disorientated, but tonight she had slept into the early hours of the morning, which was rare. Her fatigue weighed her down, making her movements slow – as if she was trapped in a thick mud and had to wade through it in order to be safe. She also found her room unbearably hot, which meant that there was no way she would be able to fall asleep again. She decided to step into her bathroom, hoping to bring her temperature down with a splash of cold water.
When she was done, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and decided she looked pathetic – her eyes were outlined by dark circles, her lips were chapped from the terrible habit she had of biting them when she was deep in thought, and her skin was pale from staying inside all day. The last week had been tough on the team and although it had been 7 days since she had lost her twin, the pain had only lessened fractionally. The entire team, excluding Clint and Natasha (who had left the base almost as soon as they had arrived) avoided her when she did leave her room, which was only when she was hungry or when someone told her there was a meeting taking place. No one had tried to push her to do anything she didn't want to do, and for that she was grateful, but the constant isolation was difficult for her considering from the moment she had been born, she had never been alone.
It was when her stomach growled, interrupting her thoughts, that she admitted defeat and decided to venture downstairs to the kitchen and grab something to eat. She hoped they would still have some of the chocolate she had tried last time she ate. It was a rich chocolate, nothing like anything she could have afforded back in Sokovia, that she could eat forever is she wanted to. It reminded her of a dish her mother used to cook when she was little, and it gave her a small comfort.
After wandering down the corridor and steps that were familiar to her by now, she emerged in the deserted kitchen, which was blissfully cool, contrasting with the warmth of her room. She revelled in the icy feeling of the tiled floor that greeted her as she approached the fridge. Welcoming the bitter taste of the chocolate as she popped a block into her mouth, she waited for it to melt on her tongue before exploring the contents of the fridge further. A large carton of orange juice, an apple, and a strawberry yoghurt all soon disappeared down her throat and her stomach quit its complaining.
Unfortunately, the food gave her body an extra boost of energy and Wanda found she needed something to focus her mind on before she got too restless. She navigated her way towards the elevator and pressed a random floor, not caring where she ended up. A quiet 'ping' alerted her to her arrival at whichever floor she had selected and, to her surprise, she found herself emerging in the weapons facility.
She hadn't set foot inside the room since before they had faced Ultron. A familiar jacket draped over the bench in the centre of the room caught her eye and she froze. She didn't need to be any closer to know it had white, triangular stripes running down the sleeves and red piping running along the seams, standing out like blood against the black of the material. It took her a while to unstick her feet from the floor and approach the item of clothing, but as soon as she did, she snatched it up and held it close to her, relieved it still smelt like him – of rain and the kind of mints he used to love to chew.
She lowered herself onto the bench slowly, and when she adjusted her grip on the fabric, he felt a sharp point dig into her hand. Carefully, she straightened out the jacket and reached inside the pocket, not surprised when she felt a glossy object. When she pulled her hand out she saw the photo of her family, taken with a second hand camera her father had bought. It was worn, creased, and folded in so many places some parts of the picture were impossible to see. Her mother stood in the centre of the frame, a smiling 4 year old Wanda balanced on her hip, and next to her, her father with a smirking Pietro on his shoulders, trying to tug on his sister's hair. They had been so happy that day – she remembered her dad returning home with the camera and a cake for them to share, after a particularly lucky day at the shoe shop. It had only survived the bombing because it had slipped down behind the bed weeks before the attack, and when the shell had fallen Pietro had stared at it for the entire time they were there. He had kept it with him ever since.
Wanda had never been someone who cried very often and although the photo brought her great pain, her eyes remained dry.
It was when she was lost in thought that Vision had phased through the ceiling, evidently his room was positioned directly above the weapons room and it wasn't until she had calmed herself down that she sensed the hum of his mind in the room. She had her back to him and he must have been hoping not to disturb her.
"I know you're there," she murmured, not making a move to turn around and face him, "Your mind is hard to miss in a silent room."
Vision sighed, "I heard you moving down here," he told her, taking only one step closer, "I suppose neither of us will be getting much sleep tonight."
She turned to face him then, and it was the first time she had seen him since he rescued her from the falling city, "I don't suppose you've ever had a nightmare?" she asked, bringing the jacket closer to her body, as if it would protect her
"I can't say I have," he replied, sensing her distress and striding forwards to hover near her, close to the bench.
She looked at him properly then, looked right into his bright green eyes, eyes that she had once feared would hold the same destruction she has seen in Ultron's mind. Now, she only saw kindness, with innocence and great knowledge, which, admittedly, confused her a lot, "I have only ever used my gifts to give people nightmares. I never cared for how they felt, until last week, when the nightmares that haunt me are nobody's fault but my own."
A look of hesitation crossed Vision's face, before he sat down on the bench next to Wanda, "What nightmares do you suffer from?" he asked gently.
Wanda looked down at the photo in her hands and took a deep breath, "It's the same dream every night. I'm under my bed, and I'm alone," she started, tracing her finger around the image of her brother's head, "There's rubble everywhere and I look down at my hands, and I see a child's hands. Stark's shell is barely an arm's length away I can hear a ringing in my ears. My lungs are screaming at me to let me cough the dust up that I've inhaled, but I'm too scared to move," she paused, casting the photo to the side and drawing her knees up onto the bench and under her chin, "Pietro should be there, he should be next to me, but instead I can see his hand from under the collapsed table in the kitchen. Then his hand twitches, and he's suddenly in my face, telling me it's my fault he's dead. My fault our parents hesitated before taking cover. And when I apologise, he turns into Ultron, leering at me, telling me he will find me, no matter where I hide. When I scream, he disappears, just before the bomb explodes, and I wake up."
By the time she was finished, her eyes were glassy and she could see the dream in front of her as clearly as if she really were dreaming. She turned her head to see Vision placing his hand on her shoulder awkwardly, unsure of what to do, but trying his best. She managed a weak smile in response – the first time she had smiled since her twin's death.
"I wish I could help with the nightmares," he told her sincerely, "But I think it will do you good to occupy your mind more during the day and throw yourself into Avenger activities."
She raised her eyebrow at him, "Like what? Party planning?" she asked bitterly. She had heard the rest of the Avengers celebrating the defeat of Ultron a couple of days after their return, and surprisingly, she hadn't been in a partying mood.
"No, actually," Vision ignored her flippant remark and Wanda felt guilty at snapping, "They're planning to build another Avengers facility in the next couple of months."
Sighing, she untucked her knees from below her chin, "I'm sorry," she muttered – she had never liked apologies, "There was a time when I used to be kind and caring, but-"
"-but you were given a harsh deal in life," he interrupted, giving her a look that meant he understood, "I may not be the most reliable source of information, but I still think you're kind," he told her with a small smile, "I just think you have thick walls because you've spent your life protecting yourself from the world."
"You think I should trust people more?" she asked with a frown.
"I think you should give people an opportunity to earn your trust," he replied simply.
Wanda smiled for the second time that night, "Well I think I already trust you," she told him, "since you saved my life back in Sokovia."
"I did, didn't I?" he said. How could he forget? The moment was seared into his brain for reasons unknown to him, "I would be surprised if you didn't trust me."
Her eyebrows furrowed and Wanda regarded Vision thoughtfully, "Is that so?" she asked.
"I've felt you searching my mind throughout our conversation and I know you won't have found anything that would cause distrust," he calmly stated.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't appear to be embarrassed and Vision hadn't expected her to be – it wasn't in her nature.
"Your mind fascinates me. It's so bright and pure, and it never stops. It's like listening to a heartbeat, constantly there, and reassuring," she admitted, and her eyes closed. "What does it feel like when I'm looking?"
Vision thought for a moment before replying, "I suppose it's similar to the human sensation of tickling."
Slowly Wanda withdrew from his mind and opened her eyes, Vision having made her feel guilty for the second time that night, "You should have told me it was uncomfortable."
"I never said it was uncomfortable," he told her, "It's rather pleasant."
"Really?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean I have any idea how to describe it, the sensation is rather perplexing," he said, a frown on his face that Wanda found highly amusing. She laughed for the first time in a very long time. Somehow Vision had made her feel more in the last five minutes than she had all week.
Involuntarily, her moth opened and a yawn broke free. The small chuckle that rose up in Vision's throat disappeared in concern. "Should you be getting some more rest?" he asked, examining her eyes, "You are showing symptoms of extreme fatigue."
"I don't want to sleep," she protested, even though her eyes were impossibly heavy, as they had been for a good while now.
Vision sighed, "You shouldn't put your personal health at risk because you fear what you see when you close your eyes," he warned her.
"You can talk," she argued, "You've never had a nightmare." But already she was visibly lacking in strength, "If you hear… If I… Wake me up," she broke off, her head flopping down to lean gently on his arm as she fell into a heavy sleep.
In what was becoming a familiar position to the pair, Vision scooped the sleeping woman into his arms and phased them both through the ceiling and into his room. He laid her out on his bed, seeing as he had no idea where her room was at all, and stared out of the window at the city of New York. Although he had by no means met many people (since he had only been alive 8 days), he thought Wanda was the most intriguing and complex person he had come across, and he had a feeling that no matter how many people he met, his opinion wouldn't change.
AN: This chapter is quite a bit shorter than I would have hoped, but I hope there was enough content for you guys to enjoy it.
I have no idea where I'm going with this story but I'd love some feedback :-)
Till next time!