Chemicals Between Us

After their discovery, Vision was relentless, insisting they continue to practice meditating nearly every evening after combat training.

This particular evening found Wanda in her chair facing Vision, who, once again, floated before her cross-legged. Briefly, she considered how surreal her life had become, having telepathic sessions with an android, in her bedroom that was larger than her parent's whole apartment, after training all day with the Avengers - her once sworn enemies.

"Vision," she whined, rubbing her eyes, "can we please do this tomorrow?" The day's sparring with Steve and Sam had been unusually draining.

"With repetition comes perfection," was his response. "Is that not the saying?"

"Fine," she conceded with a roll of her eyes. "But I'm going to sleep in," she checked the clock, "thirty minutes, whether you're still here or not."

"Excellent," he beamed.

And so they began. Initially, the two could only hold their connection for a handful of seconds. But through Vision's persistence, they could now keep it up for a few minutes. Unfortunately, these minutes, caught in one another's psychic embrace, could feel like hours.

While the sessions were mentally draining, Wanda couldn't deny she did enjoy them. The sensation was somewhat familiar, both something wonderful and uplifting. It reminded her of how she felt when she was with Pietro, her hand in his. She also couldn't deny that the meditation had aided as Vision originally hoped. In the weeks since they first began, she was regaining control of her power.

Vision would be lying if he said he wasn't insisting on the sessions for selfish reasons. (Of course, Vision had never attempted to lie before, having not the need. So, he was not sure if he even could tell a lie.) Naturally, there was the curiously, the pursuit of knowledge to consider. But it did not compare to the main reason he found himself here, before her: it felt lovely. Wanda's presence in his mind, it enveloped him, consumed him. At times, it was all he could think about. At night, whilst everyone slept, he would sit in his room, reliving the memories again and again. For whatever reason, however, these recollections, crisp and clear as the second they were experienced, simply could not compare to being in the actual moment. Thus, he found himself pestering her nearly every evening for another chance.

Wanda pulled back and glanced at the clock. Only eleven minutes had passed. "Don't you ever get tired?"

Vision, who had been waiting expectantly, explained, "I believe so. When I find myself in need of a recharge, I rest my body for a short while."

"You sleep."

"Not in the traditional sense, no."

Wanda leaned back in her chair with a huff. He wasn't taking the hint. "Vision, I am tired. Can we cut this short?"

Clearly disappointed, he pleaded, "Just once more?"

Her eyes narrowed, obviously annoyed. But she had come to find she couldn't deny him. Like Pietro, she could not say no to him when he really wanted something. So, wordlessly, she leaned forward and closed her eyes.

His lips formed a small smile as his mind fell into the warm embrace again. Usually, he was more than content to simply be, but he felt himself nudged, as if pulled by a current. Happily, he let himself drift along, until out of the darkness morphed pale green thread-like patterns. Where he was once in bliss, he now sensed uncertainty and fear.

"It will be aright," he heard a familiar voice and glanced up from the pale cloth to see Pietro's face.

"Pietro ... Are you sure?" he heard Wanda's wavering voice in his ears.

Pietro cupped Vision's face and smiled, "Be strong, Sister. It won't be long before we have the power we need to fight."

Anxiety and uncertainly waned as Vision was pulled into Pietro's arms, a kiss placed on his crown, replaced with reassurance, comfort, and an unknown euphoria.

'That's PRIVATE!' Wanda's furious voice echoed in his head as he was, almost painful, yanked from her memory. Collapsing on the floor, Vision peered up to see Wanda glaring at him.

"What did you do?"

"I—"

"What did you see?" she growled, standing.

"—didn't—"

"Is this what you've been trying to do? Get inside my head?"

"No, I—"

"Get out!" she all but snarled, as scarlet kinetic smoke danced around her fingertips. "Or I will put you out."

Vision, still on the floor, placed his hands before him, pleading. "Please, allow me to explain myself."

Wanda was seeing more red that just her power. Enraged and insulted, she wanted restitution. She wanted to level the entire building to the ground. She wanted to throw Vision through the ceiling and into the sun for his betrayal.

In that moment, she hated him.

And Vision felt it, as it seeped into him, this vile repulsion he could not understand, directed squarely at him. He felt physically ill as he staggered to get to get to his feet, but his energy was drained. Collapsing, he fell back to his knees. In his whole life, short though it may have been so far, he never imagined he could feel this awful. Was he dying? He did not know, and, for the first time, he was terrified.

"Please," he begged. "Make it stop!"

Wanda hesitated, taken aback. 'Control it, or it will control you,' Natasha's words resounded in her ears. Screwing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, then another. She thought of Pietro's smile, the smell of her father's paprikash, the melody of her mother's lullaby. Slowly, her rage began to diminish. At last, she opened her eyes to find Vision, on his knees, head in his hands, gasping, as he began to phase through the floor.

What had she done?

As she crouched beside him, it hit her. Powerful waves of regret and sorrow rolled off Vision, nearly bowling her over. It sank into the pit of her stomach like a cold stone. Her heart splintered with his as she choked, "Vision..."

"I'm sorry," his voice muffled behind his hands, before vanishing through the floor.

Defeated, Wanda rolled onto her back, and stared at the ceiling. As she regained her breath, the sorrow and anger faded until she was left numb and exhausted. It was there on the floor she stayed, too tired to even crawl in bed, until morning.

The tether, it seemed, had become a live wire.

A/N: I'm going to be honest, this chapter did not end up as originally intended. But, hey, maybe it'll work out?