An internal clock striking midnight marked two months to the day. The day that tore away so many innocent loved ones, ripped apart homes and precious land, and instilled an eternal fear in the lives of Sokovia and her people. The day of Ultron's destruction.
To the Vision, it was bittersweet to witness the reunion of families taken under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s broken wing that day; thankful for those that drew breath, and mournful for those that no longer would. He had done what he could, dutifully protected and served the people that he felt a lingering guilt for. He supposed, in a vague, roundabout way, it was his decided creation that led to that moment. It was the reason for his existence that these people suffered what they did, he believed. Completely above reproach in every way imaginable, suffering the atrocities of a program meant for protection yet corrupted to destruction.
Was he a truly a monster?
He genuinely could not see.
No one else seemed to recognize that either, and Vision could not determine if that was something to be concerned over. If they regarded him as an asset, then he would be just that. So he set out to help the Avengers initiative, aiding in the construction of their new facility, and offering whatever knowledge he possessed of the stone that allowed him sentience. Which, admittedly, was not much at all. But his enthusiasm for helping others in every way possible did not go unnoticed. Although unnerving to some, his mere presence commanded utter respect and reverence wherever he went. He did not mean to affect others in this way, and tried his best to remain humble and friendly towards those who would stare or quickly move out of his way in anxiety, or perhaps fear, he could not tell the difference. It was confounding to him that he should generate such exaltation for simply being.
He only ever wanted to live among them. To be a part of them. To be human.
But he accepted with dismay that he would never be such.
From time to time, Vision felt the slightest, most delicate brush against his consciousness that would undoubtedly go unnoticed were he not so perceptive. She… would sometimes reach out with her terrifying and incredibly subdued power to peek into his mind for reasons unknown. It would be gentle, fleeting. At every moment that he felt her presence he yearned for a stronger connection, and ached when that presence left. He held the faintest flicker of hope deep within him that perhaps the curious young woman—who was the very first to enter his mind and touch his consciousness when he was in the Cradle—would welcome him more openly than the rest. That she would embrace him as not a synthezoid, but a human. But he could not know her true intentions, and he would not dare to ask. It was not his place.
Some time past midnight, as he sat in the living quarters engrossed in his musings, he rose to his feet and began his nightly walk out of the compound. He carried himself far across the perfectly manicured lawn that stretched before him, where he could absorb the beauty of nature and her creations.
And so the Vision stood like a statue, unmoving, silent, posture held so regally. His golden cape billowed softly behind him from the light breeze that he greeted with fondness. He stayed out during these nights, when the moon and the stars shone brightly, basking in their light and their warmth. He didn't know why they gave him such comfort. Perhaps it was because they held steadfast and immovable amidst the darkness of the encompassing universe. They seemed to speak to him, to call out to him, to sing his name as they glinted before his ever curious eyes. It didn't feel so unknown, the thing they called space. Mankind on Earth recognized the threat of alien forces and their imminent arrival, and they feared the obscurity the future held for them.
Vision understood their perspective, he acknowledged their fears, and he was content to help them overcome the unknown. But to the android that bore the Mind Stone on his brow, the universe was not unknown—it was mysterious, yes, but for some reason it was familiar, it was welcoming. He would not venture out, though. His place was on Earth: his origin, his home. He had no desire to explore that strangely welcoming abyss that loomed overhead. It was a privilege to be among humans, to immerse himself in their culture, their passion, their strength. To witness their capacity to love so deeply and so selflessly. He had no desire to abandon them and leave them stranded, helpless to the threat that resided amidst the stars, and even amongst themselves.
No. His desire was here, sleeping soundly in a dark room inside the compound behind him, dreaming of flashes of silver and blue.
A wistful smile graced his features. He knew it could never be. He was an android. A synthetic being that, although ostensibly capable of human emotion, was devoid of the gift of life. Of a family.
And he had accepted that.
A/N: Sorry for the depressing first chapter. Don't lose hope, things will get better for our dear android. He just needs to... stop wallowing in self pity. Also, this is my first fic, so I hope I don't disappoint! I plan to explore Vision and Wanda's relationship with a unique approach. Cheers, Kino