A/N: A few things:
1. This is a longer chapter than usual, but I couldn't find a better place to cut it off.
2. I apologize in advance for my use of Slovak - the internet is my only source, so it could be complete rubbish for all I know.
3. This chapter is more emotional than usual, hopefully it's not over the top. I'm always scared of making emotional scenes too dramatic!
4. I made up some random names on the fly for people on TV - any resemblance to actual people is purely accidental and you can take it up with my imagination.
Anyway, enjoy!
"Hovno!" Vision heard Wanda hiss in a strained voice. He frowned slightly at her foul language, and peaked into the doorway.
"You missed three chances to take me down just now, and your left hook is sloppy." Natasha said from the ground floor of the training arena. She released Wanda, who fell to the floor, grasping her throat and breathing heavily. "Still," Said the agent, who looked like she was hardly breaking a sweat, "Not that bad. You need some more muscle on those arms before you take out anything bigger than a twig, but not bad. Keep working at the bag, we'll get you toned up. Now get up. We're not done."
Weeks ago, Wanda would have wanted to curse or maybe even cry, if she were tired enough, but now she just closed her eyes, took a breath, and made herself stand with burning arms. Natasha was quietly proud of her, but said nothing. "Right," said the Widow, waving for the Witch to follow her. "You been doing all those squats and lunges?"
"I could hardly stand up yesterday morning. Yes," groaned Wanda. Vision watched quietly from the doorway as she went to stand by where Natasha leaned casually against a human analog kickboxing bag, which glared at them angrily from chipped foam eyes.
Natasha sent her a wry grin. "Well that's good. Time to put them to use." She pushed herself up off the stand. "Chances are in the life an avenger, you'll be fighting men about one thousand times more often than you'll be fighting women. Which is good news for you."
"Is it?" Wanda wondered through heavy breathing, thinking about how much she hated boxing alongside Sam and Steve because they could match her punch with five of their own and leave her in the dust.
"That's Steve's biceps talking. You may have arms like a rat, but you're a girl; my bet is that you have thighs for days. You ever seen Rhodey try to kickbox his way out of a bag?"
Wanda frowned, wondering who would put the colonel in a bag. "No."
"Good. It's a sad show. The point is, guys are built for arms, and it's tempting for them to care about nothing but arms." This made Vision frown and glance down at his own arms. He'd never considered which part of his body was strongest. Then again, until recently, he hadn't had much need to. Below, Natasha was still talking:
"You and I were built with core, legs, and ass." Well that is true, said a small voice in the back of Vision's skull, for bizarre reasons he could not classify. He made himself focus again on what Natasha was saying. "So you want to avoid Sam's right hook, but he should want to avoid your roundhouse kick." To emphasize her point, Natasha paused long enough to roundhouse kick the bag in its face. It fell over with a thud and Natasha continued on as if nothing had happened. "So we'll keep working on your arms until you can give Tony a KO, but this is going to be your bread and butter." She bent and hauled the bag up onto its stand. "Bruce here is going to help you practice."
Natasha frowned at the bag. "Bruce…?" She asked, trying to remember if Natasha and Bruce were still together or not. Natasha's face was disconcertingly expressionless.
"I name them sometimes," She said, face still clear. She turned around and gave Bruce a heel to the spleen.
"This'll be your first move. You want to try?"
Vision was no longer hiding behind the doorway, now standing on the second-story balcony leaning against the railing, fixated on Natasha's instructions as Wanda slowly got the hang of the kick. He was taking mental notes, wondering if he could learn to fight like Natasha, wondering how strong his arms and legs were. His conversation with Falcon about strength had been plaguing him for days, and he now found himself wondering if learning to fight would help improve his chances of living up to Sam's expectations.
"If you're here for a peep show I'll name the next one after you, Vision," warned Natasha as she kicked Bruce in the side. She gave a quiet instruction to Wanda to follow her example, and turned to look up at the synthezoid.
"I apologize," Vision said, shaking off the trance of watching. "I overheard you talking, and thought I'd…" thought he'd what? Natasha crossed her arms skeptically, so he continued, "I have never learned how to fight properly with this body, particularly after I um…" he fiddled with his fingers. "I was merely curious. Pardon my intrusion." He turned away, but Natasha sighed and called back,
"Well if you want to tag along, come down here. You're not a vulture."
So Vision joined them on the arena floor and watched while Wanda and Natasha wounded the ever-resilient Bruce beyond human limits. Natasha was upfront and knowledgeable about which organs to go after, how to feign a punch and rebound with a kick, how to cuff and ear with your heel and why flexibility was key. Wanda was mediocre at best, but Natasha's face betrayed no doubt or condescension, so she kept going.
Occasionally, Natasha would watch Vision while Wanda went through a sequence, trying to read his intense expression. At one point, Wanda kicked Bruce directly in the groin (on accident, as it happened) and Vision flinched visibly. Natasha barely held back her surprised smile – well, that answered that question.
When Wanda's legs started shaking and the sweat got into her eyes, Natasha began counting slowly. When she reached one hundred, she took mercy. "Take a break, Maximoff," She said, and Wanda looked fit to collapse, her ponytail frizzed and face red. "Get some water."
As Wanda shuffled off toward the water cooler, Natasha turned to Vision. "You want to have a go, Red?"
Vision looked vaguely surprised, but took up the offer. He almost fell over the first time he tried to kick the stand, but rebounded quickly for a second try.
In the course of a half hour (a god-send respite for Wanda, who was lying on the floor under a fan) Vision managed to convince himself of two things: he was not entirely horrible at kick-boxing, and he had a very long way to go before he would be any good at kick-boxing.
"You got muscle, but next to no coordination," Natasha surmised, glancing back at Wanda, who seemed happily checked-out of practice. "You and Maximoff would make a good team – between the two of you, I might have a decent fighter on my hands. Get up, Hermione, I want to see your footwork."
"Hovno…" Wanda breathed, moving stiffly to stand.
"Whiner," Natasha smiled, and gave Vision's bicep a pat. "Tell Friday to set you up a bag in the boxing room, we can put those guns to use. I'll tell Cap to give you a primer."
"Of course." Vision did not try to ask for clarification on her use of the word 'guns'. As a tired looking Wanda came near, Vision gave her a gentlemanly nod. "Good luck, Miss Maximoff. Thank you for letting me join your session. It has been most educational." He gave them both a smile and turned toward the door. Just as the door was sliding shut, he could hear Natasha say,
"Hey, eyes back over here. I'm here to help you kick ass, not look at it. Show me what you got."
His training with Steve was refreshingly enjoyable for Vision. Despite the fact that he had never exercised (as such) in his life, Vision found that he did not easily grow sore or tired. It took only a few sessions for him to learn how to outlast both Rhodes and Tony on the punching bag as well as the track. Sam kept up with him most often, and of course Steve was his instructor.
Vision also did not sweat; according to Dr. Cho, this was likely due to the vibranium in his tissues wicking excess heat as they did vibrations and muscle friction. It not only gave Vision's body exceptional strength, but also exceptional stamina. He had no sweat glands because he had no need of them.
"Now that just ain't fair," Said a sweat-drenched Sam one day after training, mopping his forehead with a towel and dumping water over his head. Vision, as dry as he'd ever been, looked apologetic as he wrote in his journal from the locker room bench.
"Life's not fair," Said Tony, equally as sweaty as Sam, holding a martini. "Anyone who says differently is selling something."
"Princess Bride," Steve said, pointing like it were a race. He was not nearly as tired as the others. They looked at him with expressions ranging from amused to unimpressed. "I got that reference," He said quietly. Tony smirked and took a sip of his cocktail.
"Is that a good idea?" asked Rhodes.
"It's a power drink," Tony said, plucking out the toothpick with the olive attached. "Look, I put protein power on it and everything."
While Rhodey and Tony dissolved into one of their bickering sessions, Sam and Steve rolled their eyes and opened a discussion of what movie they should watch that week – had Steve seen all of the Star Wars movies yet? Vision journaled quietly in the buzz of conversation around him.
I still do not believe that I am strong, he wrote, and paused to consider the wording of his next line. He glanced up at the men around him who had been so complementary of his budding fighting skills these past weeks. He turned his eyes back to his penmanship. But I am beginning to learn that with time, I might be a little stronger than I am right now.
And learning that was enough to raise his spirits considerably.
Naturally, Vision's high spirits were not destined to last. It was only the next evening when Vision walked into the lounge to find the others gathered around a large screen, news footage reflecting in the darkened windows. They did not turn to see him, so he kept quiet as he came up behind the couch to watch.
"-reporting damages in the millions, if not billions, with the worst hit areas situated nearest to the Avengers headquarters, the former Stark Tower. The aftermath of the most recent alien attack on Manhattan has left hundreds of civilians homeless and without work, and shelters as far as Vermont are filling up with refugees claiming to be from the affected areas." The cameras panned over heaps of warped metal and glass, concrete dust still sticking to piles of totaled cars that the clean up crews hadn't been able to reach.
The feed cut to a silent clip of Tony Stark speaking at a press conference the previous week. "New York Senators along with the city Mayor are pressuring Congress and the Secretary of Defense to press charges against Stark Industries and the Avengers for the damage caused."
"The hell they are," interrupted Tony. "I haven't heard a whisper about that – Pepper?"
"I haven't handled anything about formal charges," She said, already scrolling through her phone. "I'll make some calls." She stood and excused herself from the room. The others' eyes stayed glued to the screen.
"Although Stark Industries was quick to announce its role in the cleanup initiative, some say Tony 'Iron Man' Stark's corporately funded relief effort is too little too late. For more on this story, we go back to our studio live with reporter Ian Sanchez. Ian?"
"Jocelyn, as you've said already, the Avengers seem to be at the crux of this month's invasion from the alien whom authorities are calling 'Thanos', and while Avengers supporters say this has been a repeat victory for the New York City-based superhero team, some are saying that the Avengers have outlived their welcome in Manhattan. Here to discuss are Lawyer Suzanne Martin and writer-Avengers expert Matt Reeling. Suzanne, what do you have to say about the Avengers and the recent attack?"
Suzanne gave a small eye roll, holding out her hands in a shrug. "Where do I even start? These past few weeks have been one blunder after the other for the so called 'heroes' at Stark Tower. Their presence in New York was kept a secret for months after the First Battle of Manhattan – I wish I didn't have to call it the 'first' – and now we all know why. The Avengers not only attract trouble, they attract direct attacks to their home which, as they've so inconsiderately decided, is New York City."
"And what would you suggest as a next move, Suzanne?"
"Get the Avengers out and make them pay," The blonde shook her head. "Anything less would be unjust."
The dark-skinned man in the panel next to her, wearing a sports jacket over a Captain America t-shirt, was shaking his head.
"Matt, I see you shaking your head – thoughts?" Ian took a breath and gave a serious nod.
"First of all, the Avengers are not the attackers here – Thanos is. Second of all, I think we're forgetting the fact that the same heroes we've kicked into the doghouse saved not only New York, but the entire world just a few years ago. If you – Ms. Martin, if you want to persecute the Avengers, I'd say you need to go about it carefully, because we need them, and cannot afford to push them underground just yet."
"We need them?" Suzanne burst. "We wouldn't need them at all if they weren't around to draw this 'Thanos' down from whatever alien world he hails from – for all we know, he could come back tomorrow, thanks to them."
Ian leapt on a short pause to say, "As I'm sure both of you know, the cause for Thanos' attack is of yet unknown. However, there are many conflicting theories circulating online – including some who say the Avengers themselves were the target of the attack."
Suzanne jumped on the prompt first. "That is right, Ian, and I have to say that I completely agree with the theory that the Avengers were the target – which just goes to show you, if they had shacked up elsewhere, anywhere besides a metropolitan center like New York, we wouldn't be seeing the kind of terrible damages that have New York reeling for the second time this decade."
"Okay, even – Even if the Avengers were Thanos' target, that doesn't change the fact that they are not the aggressors of this event," cut in Matt angrily. "If anything, the Avengers were as much of victims as we are-"
"Victims?" Suzanne burst, "The Avengers escaped without so much of a broken window, I'd say they are anything but victims here."
"Well you haven't been paying close enough attention then," Said Matt, "Because I know at least one of the Avengers barely got away with his life. The newest member of the team, the synthezoid that they're calling 'The Vision" suffered massive injuries while trying to defend a civilian center from Thanos himself."
"John, can we have the pictures on that?" Ian said to someone off screen. Two images appeared on the screen, one of Vision during a TV interview several months before, and one grainier picture that must have been taken just days ago, with a tired-looking Vision standing on the balcony wearing sweats and an old t-shirt. Vision's heart leapt into his throat.
"The hell did they get that picture?" Clint burst, looking out the windows as if he'd see a camera lens somewhere.
"Paparazzi, man," Tony said solemnly, looking at the screen. "They always find a way."
"You can see the difference here – most obviously, the gem, the uh 'solar gem' or so we call it, in his head, it's what gives him his power, and it's gone completely in the second picture. We've also seen amateur footage surface online of Thanos attacking The Vision – going for his head, presumably for the solar gem itself."
"John?" Ian cued again. When the shaky phone video came onto screen and Vision realized what it was, he felt sick. His heart was racing, and he wanted to look away, but he couldn't. On the screen, a distant and poorly focused Thanos grabbed for Vision's head, his other hand around Vision's neck. The caped hero struggled in vain, ultimately allowing Thanos to tear the gem from his head in a bloody mass. The resulting shockwave knocked the camera out of view, and the video ended. Still unable to look away, Vision blinked, trying to make the memory fade, trying to not see and re-see the event from both angles again and again. It didn't work.
"The Vision was harmed in this attack – injured badly enough that it took his power source from him. If you want to argue that the Avengers got away scot free, Ms. Martin, think again."
"I've seen that video, Matt, and I agree that the Vision was attacked by Thanos – but I also know that it was mere minutes after this fight between Thanos and Vision that Thanos left New York entirely: it just strengthens the point I've been trying to make clear: The Avengers were the target. The Avengers are to blame for this attack, and the Avengers should no longer be welcome in New York. The Vision is what drew Thanos to earth in the first place, and I'd say that he should be the first one to be shipped off as far away as possib-"
The TV shut off. "That's enough of that," Tony snapped, tossing the remote away. The group was silent, some sighing and rubbing their faces. Helen Cho was the one who saw Vision first.
"Vision," She said in surprise. The others turned to look as well, realizing what he must have seen. Helen's expression fell even further when she saw the shocked, immobile expression on Vision's face. "Oh no – that," she glanced between the dark TV and Vision. "Vision, I'm so sorry, we didn't see you… are you alright?"
"Don't listen to that crap," Sam put in. "they don't know what they're talking about."
"From the sound of it," Vision said calmly, and only calmly because he had never tried to manage any other tone. Even as he wished he could manage another tone, he couldn't. "they know exactly what they are talking about." He still stared into the dark TV screen, brow confused, eyes wide. The others were saying things gently to him, probably to comfort or encourage him, but he did not hear. He heard his heart beating in his ears, which he couldn't slow down, he heard voices in his head, repeats from the newscasters, he heard the blast from Thanos attack, the growls and insults of his attacker, he heard an explosion and the screams of an angry mob that approached to carry him off as far away as possib-"
"Dinner," smiled Wanda shakily. "I'm sure we could all use a break from…" she glanced at the TV, and at Vision. "I'll get the plates ready," she said, standing and heading for the hall. The others followed suit in quiet grumbles. Sam lagged behind and came up next to Vision.
"You alright?" He asked, peering into the synthezoid's eyes.
"I am unsure," replied Vision, and hesitated. He realized that Sam was concerned, but he also realized that even if he felt like he was being tossed form his internal railings, there was little that Sam could do about his racing heart and screaming brain. "I will be fine," He decided out loud, even if it were a lie. He took long strides toward the kitchen, which Sam leaped to catch up with.
"If you say so," Said the soldier uncertainly.
After a half hour or so rushing about the kitchen to prepare a dinner for eleven people, they finally all sat down with plates of steaming, sloppily-prepared spaghetti.
Wanda was the one to notice. "Where is Vision?" She asked, because the seat next to her was empty. They all looked around, frowning. Tony shrugged, glancing into the kitchen.
"Viz? You hungry or not, bro? I'll eat your breadsticks, don't think I won't." He looked more concerned than he sounded.
Nothing.
Wanda glanced at Helen, who was seated directly across from her. Helen nodded subtly, and Wanda rose to her feet.
"I'm sure he's just tired," She said, even though the entire table would see through the lie. "I'll take this," She heaved up his plate and a few breadsticks (which Tony handed her without complaint). Giving a small smile, she walked toward the hall to the bedroom suites, leaving the others to eat in relative silence, all worried but unable to do anything but eat their dinner and wait.
"Vision?" She knocked quietly. "Are you alright? I brought your dinner." She knocked again. When no one answered, she pressed on the door gently. "I'm coming in, I hope you're decent." She opened the door. The room was dark, and she did not see him at first, but he turned his head to look at her and she caught the metallic glint of his ears in the dim light from the window. She turned on a lamp and set his dinner on the bedside table. He was sitting on the floor on the far side of his bed, legs crossed and back hunched, staring out of the window. She came over to him, tucking her hair behind her ears so it didn't fall in her face when she bent over slightly.
"Your dinner will get cold," she said. He was not looking at her. "Are you alright?"
"I do not know," he said in a small voice, in a tone she'd never heard from him. He glanced up at her with lost eyes. "Could you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" she asked, frowning.
"You see my mind more clearly than I do. I do not know what is happening to me," Vision told her. "The news… and that lawyer, the things she said…"
"She doesn't know what she's talking about," Said Wanda, now kneeling next to Vision to be on his eye level. "She doesn't even know you,"
"No, none of them do," Vision turned to face her. "But that's… that's just it, Wanda," she was frowning at him, because she'd never heard him like this, so alarmed, so emotional. "They do not know me, but they condemn me. I do not know them, and I desire nothing but their safety. I cannot comprehend having brought this ruin down upon them, and now they…" he paused, and she wasn't sure if he were thinking or choking back something.
"You are upset," Wanda said, scooting closer to him and taking his hand. He had done the same for her when she was grieving, she hoped it would calm him. But it was almost as if he didn't notice her at all.
"They blame me for Thanos' rage. Are they right? Are they right in thinking that I have failed? Failed in preserving life, preserving even my own life? That I was the reason that…" he paused again, throat bobbing, and Wanda realized what was about to happen moments before it started happening. "Why does…" Vision gestured vaguely to his throat and head, eventually grasping his shirt near his heart as his breaths became halted and sharp, "why does it hurt?" his voice as muddled deeper than usual by the sobs he didn't know how to let out. "Why won't my heart stop racing? Why can't I…" He sighed out what was probably a sob he couldn't understand, "why can't I get it out of my head? Why are human emotions so ridiculous?" He finally let out a grunt of a sob, and Wanda took his hand in both of hers, now.
"Vision, listen to me, you need to calm down, just breathe, you'll be fine, just breathe and listen to me,"
"I don't understand, I don't understand," He was saying even as tears fell down his red face. He wiped them away in confusion and fear. "I don't understand."
"Just… relax and take a breath, you'll be alright, just…" Wanda realized then that he could not hear a word she said. She threw her words to the wind and reached out for him, pulling him closer to her. This he seemed to understand, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders so her face was pressed into his shoulder, his face in the collar of her shirt, back moving jerkily as he tried and failed to contain himself. His other hand he put to his face in embarrassment, as if by covering his eyes he could stop the tears. She rubbed his back and held his head against her gently, like she remembered her brother doing for her years ago, after their parents had passed.
"Shhh, Všetko bude v poriadku," She rubbed his back, "Všetko bude v poriadku, sľubujem, to bude v poriadku." She did not know if he could understand her, but after a while, he quieted against her shoulder, sniffing and wiping at his face.
"I'm sorry, Miss Maximoff," he mumbled into her shirt, and withdrew from her. He looked in a terrible state, far from the perfect, otherworldly being he'd been weeks ago. "I do not know what has overcome me." He didn't mention that a sliver of it was still there, picking at his heart.
"You are upset, and rightly so. It is nothing to be ashamed of."
"I do not wish to keep you, please return to the others. They will wonder where you've gone."
"They know you are upset. I'm not leaving until I know you will not be so forever."
He glanced at her, not sure whether he was touched or annoyed that she wished to stay. She took his hand in hers once more. Maybe it was both, he thought. Maybe he was more grateful, though. He let her stroke his hand and sit with him silently, occasionally telling him that he had not failed, reminding him that he was still him. He wasn't sure if he believed it all, but she made it sound sweet and comforting, and maybe that was what his human body needed most in that moment. His eyes began drifting shut, and Wanda quietly got him to stand so he could get into bed. His heart leaped back into alarm when she let go of his hand, and he opened his eyes to see where she was, but she was only turning out the lamp. She sat upright on the covers next to him, taking his hand up again. He looked at it guiltily.
"Miss Maximoff, you oughtn't stay here on my behalf. You should go."
"I'm not leaving," she said, because she saw his distraught mind and knew he would work himself into another fit if she left. "Now go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning."
In the morning, he would feel better. But before he could wake to find it so, Pepper would come by with a specially prepared breakfast for him. Then, she would have to return with a second tray because Wanda was there too, still dressed shoes and all, curled up on the covers next to him.