A/N: For the record, I realize that this story is divergent from the end of Age of Ultron - that's why is called an AU. Enjoy!
"I'm not looking for an airtight battle plan, I'm not even looking for a solid lead. But I've got half of Washington breathing down my neck for answers, and at this point all I've got to tell them is that the guy is a big pink alien from outer space who stole the most powerful weapon on earth." Colonel Rhodes sighed, looking across the table at his fellow Avengers, with the addition of Pepper and absence of Vision. To his left, Sam Wilson spoke up,
"It's not just Washington. The mayor isn't happy about this whole mess either."
"Of course he's not, the damages alone are going to cost in the millions," said Stark Industries CEO Virginia Potts, "to say nothing of medical reimbursements. But we can rebuild. We've done it before, we'll do it again."
"Of course we will – and he was very happy to hear that Stark Industries will contribute to the reconstruction program," Sam placated. "But that's not what I'm talking about – word on the street is that we've gotten too big for our boots, and the mayor and his cabinet are one headache away from taking it up with the governor."
"Too big for our boots?" Said Steve, a stern expression on his face. "He thinks we're just talk? We stuck our necks out there with no warning and no plan and next to no help from the PD – I'd say we did pretty damn well all things considered."
"That's not what I meant," Said Sam calmly, putting out a hand to forestall Steve's frustration. "The first time aliens attacked New York, it was unavoidable. Loki's target was the whole world, and, like anyone might have guessed, he picked a global metropolitan center as his first target. It wasn't our fault. But this time,"
"What, it was our fault?" Tony cut in angrily. "Does he think I stuck a 'Welcome to Earth, please take our stuff' sign up on my roof?"
"No," Sam snapped loudly, tired of being interrupted. "He thinks – and I'm compelled to agree with him here – that it's our fault because we've gotten too big. Literally too big, too powerful for our own good. When this all started The Avengers were already powerful: some world class assassins, a genius billionaire, a super-soldier, and a free agent Asguardian."
"And a hulk," Tony reminded. Bruce didn't look insulted that he'd been forgotten, because he was busy trying to make himself as small and uninvolved as possible.
"Yeah. Add to that happily little cocktail Rhodes, me, a European witch experiment and a goddamn all-powerful vibranium android, and yeah, we're a bit too big for New York. The mayor no longer sees our presence here as an asset. We're a liability."
"But we do protect New York – hell, we protect the entire world if we need to. He can't ignore that," Clint said, twirling his pen like an arrow.
"Of course we do. But this time, Thanos left as soon as he'd got what he wanted, what he wanted from us. He decimated the city and killed hundreds of civilians because he was trying to get to us."
There was a long silence as the others absorbed this information.
"So the mayor wants us to keep New York out of our crossfire," Steve said, understanding. "He wants us to leave." Sam nodded.
"That's about the long and short of it."
"Well then he gets his wish," Tony spoke up when no one else did. All eyes turned to him. "The upstate base is just a few months from her final inspection. We can relocate there."
"Tony, that base was always planned as an auxiliary base for SHIELD," Pepper said in an aside. Tony shrugged.
"And the mayor is about to kick our superbutts to the curb, I'd say it's time to power up the aux and count our losses. I can live with a little new car smell, anyway. Sam, can you set me up a meeting with him? To talk it over?"
"I could, but I think he's pissed at of all the avengers right now – Pepper, could you field this?"
She sighed, but tapped a note on her phone. "Of course."
"In the meantime, " said Rhodes, sensing that that particular branch of conversation was closed, "Captain, I'm going to need you get me in touch with Dr. Selvig and brief me on anything and everything he knows. Has anyone heard from Jane Foster?"
"She's en route to the States, but patchy with cell reception," Said Pepper.
"Keep her briefed, send her all the intell we have on Thanos and the stone, see if she has any bright ideas. I need something to tell the interior."
"Selvig will help you stall until we get real answers," Steve said. "God knows I didn't understand him, but it should satisfy the big cats for now."
"Good to know – get him here ASAP, tell him he's coming with me to Washington. Agent Barton, what's the status on Thor?"
"We've been sending messages for Heimdall in all our usual ways, but unfortunately there's no surefire way to know if they've been successful. I'll keep you posted."
"Good." Rhodes sighed, having little else to address. The others sensed it, and sat back, some fidgeting. "I expect Fury will show up any day now, lord only knows what SHIELD knows that we don't'. Keep on your toes. Dismissed."
They all stood and shuffled toward the conference room doors, some already pulling out their phones to make calls, others muttering to each other about this and that. As Pepper clicked away on her phone keyboard, Sam came up beside her.
"So how is our android?" He asked her quietly. "He was pretty rough last I saw him."
Pepper sighed and gave a nod. "He's been through a lot. He doesn't know how to be human; when he's hungry, when he's tired… he's having a hard time. But," She gave a longsuffering smile, putting her phone away to look at Sam, "I think he'll be okay. He's sleeping right now."
Sam nodded. "Good, good… you think he'll want to talk about it?"
"About…?"
"About the mind stone. Losing it, I mean." Sam shrugged. "It's… it's not just a papercut, he probably feels like he's lost a limb, or worse. I just figured it might help him if he talked about it; so he can work past it."
"Ah, our resident psychiatrist," Pepper smiled at him, and he shrugged humbly. "I think that would be nice. But you'll have to catch him conscious, first, and he's been asleep since one this morning. Also, we might want to teach him how to eat, first."
Sam winced. "That bad, huh?"
Pepper shrugged. "It's a mess. Dr. Cho is trying to put together a timeline for him, to ease him into everything, but it's uncharted waters. I think these next few weeks will be really rough and tumble the whole way, teaching a grown man to live." Her phone began ringing and she sighed. "That will be the mayor. Excuse me."
After Pepper stepped away, Sam went into main living area of the Avengers' suite and stretched out on a large chair. He gave a satisfied sigh as he relaxed into the cushion, exhausted and grateful for a respite. He'd been working almost nonstop with a very large, disgruntled city office following the confrontation with Thanos, and wanted to think about anything besides politics and concrete rubble and ringing telephones.
Shuffling footsteps alerted him to company, but he was still surprised when he turned to see,
"Vision!" He smiled. "Man of the hour – good morning." He glanced out the window. "Well, afternoon. How you feeling?"
Vision did not seem to register all of what Sam was saying, but gave him a courtesy nod and something that was either a smile or a twitching lip. He had his arms wrapped around his stomach.
"I have been informed that this sensation is classified as 'hunger'," He said wearily. "But I seem to have forgotten where the kitchen is located."
Sam tried not to smile at the synthezoid's odd word choice, and nodded toward the kitchen that was a few doors down the hall. "Third door on the right. What're you hungry for?"
Before Vision could speak, Friday's brogue chirped over the speakers, "Vision, I ought to tell you that Dr. Cho has ordered you on a 100% liquid diet until further notice."
Vision glanced up at the ceiling. "Understood," was all he said. He saw a question in Sam's eyes and explained, "I tried eating last night. It did not go overly well."
Sam nodded, recalling Pepper's words. It was hard looking at Vision, mostly naked, weak and confused when just days ago he had been a practical god in human form. It must be hard. Sam sighed and stood, ignoring his sore feet and back. "I'll show you around," He told his fellow avenger, "see what we can rustle up. I could use a snack."
Vision knew he was in no position to refuse help, but still he felt obligated to say, "Mr. Wilson, you really oughtn't trouble yourself," it was a weak defense, and Sam brushed it aside with a smile.
"Nah, it's fine. Besides, you don't want to refuse my mad kitchen skills, liquid diet or no. I tell you, I make a mean banana strawberry smoothie."
And so it was for the next several days: The entire Avengers team skittered about to and fro like ants on a hill, carrying the pieces of their newest disaster and depositing them in places that might hold the damage for slightly longer than others. Rhodey left for Washington and Tony was upstate trying to expedite the finishing touches of his new facility. Pepper was (as ever) working her PR magic to put public's backlash at arm's length, and Bruce holed himself away with files on the mind stone for days at a time. Steve worked everyday in the midst of the cleanup, and Wanda was using her mental talents to help psychiatrists treat trauma victims. Nat and Clint hovered like vultures over their com lines, and Sam was orchestrating plans for the cleanup schedule in conjunction with the city police.
Meanwhile, Vision slept.
And slept.
And slept.
In the uncommon event that he actually did wake up, Vision would shuffle to the kitchen, find someone to make him a smoothie or have Friday walk him through the steps, suck it down in record time, and return to his bed to sleep some more.
It was all quite remarkable, Helen observed to Bruce one evening, because before that week she hadn't known that it was physically possible for a single person to sleep so deeply for so long. But Vision managed it, and it ended up doing him a world of good.
After about a week he began staying awake for longer periods, walking more assuredly, speaking more clearly, requesting pain medication less often. He even tried solid food at the end of his second week, and managed to keep it down and effectively conquer his fear of ham sandwiches. Still, he slept more than any normal adult, and was good for little else besides polite company, companionable silence, and smoothies (which he'd gotten rather good at making over the course of a week).
Sam Wilson became a close friend to him in the wake of his injury. While the others were either out of town or isolated in some room to cope with their increased workload, Sam always made time to find Vision and ask after his day, talk with him about food and sleep and human things. They hadn't gotten to talk about the mind stone yet, but Sam was willing to cross that bridge when they reached it.
"Man, we got to do something about those clothes," the soldier teased one afternoon, "I'm sure Wanda appreciates your minimalist wardrobe and all, but most guys tend to wear more than boxers day-to-day."
"Why would Wanda appreciate them?" Vision asked in confusion, looking down from his book at his attire. "They are mine, not hers."
Sam had to close his eyes and focus on not responding to that. Vision would figure it out eventually, god help him. "My point is, we should get you something new. Do you know what sizes you'd wear?" Vision shook his head. "We'll have to get someone to do that for you."
"Friday, give me the numbers on Viz here," Tony Stark appeared from the elevator door
"Of course, sir." Tony's phone buzzed with a text from Friday, and he shook it at Sam and Vision.
"Done. What do you think, Wilson? Is he more of a Zenga or Brioni type?"
Sam smiled. "Man, you know I don't know about your six-figure suit shops. I say take him to Macy's and call it a day. How's upstate?"
"Oh, you know. Upish and statish."
"The new HQ looking good?"
"Being trussed up as we speak, all the bells and whistles. Hey, be sure to text Pepper with what color you want your room to be. You too, Viz." Tony collapsed into a chair beside Vision and began texting at lightning speed. "I'll ask Pepper to pick up a few things for you," He said to Vision. "She's got a better eye for clothes than me. 'Sides, nice to have clothes that you know appeal to a woman's eye, am I right?" He smirked.
Vision looked confusedly between Tony and Sam, wondering if this were some kind of inside joke. "I do not understand why," he said honestly.
Tony's eyebrows rose and he sighed, still texting. "Oh, boy. He hasn't caught Emo Hermione staring at him all this time, has he?" he asked Sam.
"Nope," Sam replied. Tony gave a small, almost sad laugh.
"Of course he didn't. God bless you, Viz, he knows Wanda won't."
Vision was frowning again. "What?"
Sam shook his head and stood. "Anyone want a soda? I want a soda."
Vision was slowly acclimating to a normal rhythm of life: sleeping at night, waking up early, eating twice a day and drinking a healthy amount of water.
Unfortunately, rather than evening out and finding a steady rhythm, Vision's sleep schedule quickly destabilized in the opposite direction. Much like before his injury, he often found himself wandering the halls of the Avengers tower in the wee hours of the morning. The main difference, of course, was that now his nighttime wanderings were the mark of a true insomniac, and he suffered for it.
It had been going on for a while the night that he found himself in Tony's laboratory, drawn there by the lights and sounds of another working, waking soul. He squinted into the light, shuffling forward in the tartan pajama bottoms that Pepper hand brought him in her wardrobe haul the week before. Tony had his welding goggles on, lipsyncing to some indecipherable rock song while blue sparks flew off a motorcycle chasis. Vision's foot hit a stray box of scrap, and it wobbled without falling.
"Careful," Tony said, not looking up. He finished his weld before taking off his goggles and turning down his music.
"You're unusually conscious," He remarked, sorting through a toolbox. "Top of teh mornin' to ya,"
"I was unaware that the there was a top to it," Vision said, looking around the shop. Tony rolled his eyes.
"Sorry, Friday's brogue is contagious. So what're you up to? Nice shirt."
Vision glanced down at the Stark Industries t-shirt that Tony had given him a few days before. "I cannot sleep," he said, finding a repurposed barstool and taking a seat.
"The struggle is real, my friend. You probably get that from me, sorry about that." Tony stood and brought his toolbox to the desk at Vision's side, continuing his work where he could speak with the synthezoid more comfortably. "So what's got your brain? Caffeine? Hormones? Nightmares?"
Vision's head perked up on the last word. "Are nightmares to be classified as vividly re-experienced memories?" He asked. Tony looked up at him.
"Well, they don't have to be memories… sometimes just… imagined things. Made up. We don't always know where they come from." He spoke form experience. "Why do you ask?"
Vision sighed, and it took him a while before saying, "These past few weeks… at first, sleep was involuntary. Blank. I suppose it is not unlike the rest I had before I was born. But now…" He had to gather his thoughts before explaining, "falling asleep is difficult. It takes a greater level of concentration that I would have expected."
"It's stupid how exhausting falling asleep can be, right?" Tony said, holding up two old drill bits to his face and tossing the older one behind him in a crash.
"It's not the action itself, really… but the feeling of stillness, the paralysis creeping in… it brings back memories."
Tony seemed surprised. "Memories? Of what?"
Vision looked around the lab. Mere weeks ago, he would not have recognized any of it, but recent days had drudged up his memories from JARVIS, and he now saw it all as its former prince, knew where every last bolt and wire lay. There was where the Mark Seven had been built, there was where Doctor Banner worked. And there, in the middle of the room, was where Ultron had ripped him to pieces. He did not look at Tony when he answered: "Of dying."
It took a moment or two for Vision to realize that Tony was no longer fiddling noisily, that he was now watching Vision intently. He looked at his creator. "I think, Mr. Stark," he said in a quiet, tired voice, "That I am far more of JARVIS than I had previously thought." He looked away. "And I'm not sure it's an entirely good thing."
