Chapter 7

Vision had a special appreciation for the current time of day. Lying with his form prone and perfectly still, observing the slowly emerging light as it inched into the room through the small gap in the curtains and rose up to the ceiling, he contemplated the several reasons why this should be.

The primary and most compelling was currently lying close by his side, the rhythm of her breathing indicating that she was in a fairly deep sleep.

He turned his head upon the pillow to better regard Wanda in her state of slumber, aware of the smile that widened upon his face as he watched her. Her own face was half-hidden by her loose hair, the rest of which cascaded across the pillow on which she lay. She had returned to the dark brown shade that had been familiar from the earliest days of his existence and the time in which they had become firm friends, having spent the somewhat laborious process of dying her hair the previous week. It was a natural decision and not one, she insisted, that had been influenced by the welcome return of Miss Romanoff.

For his own part, he did not mind which colour she chose to display; physical appearance was of little concern, an aspect which Wanda had reinforced to him several times. However he did conclude that this particular shade suited her very well.

One of her hands lay close to her head, fingers curled into her palm. Her other arm was stretched across her body and the bed, towards where he was positioned, though they were not currently touching. The memory of physical sensation at touching her skin reverberated beneath his fingertips, growing stronger the longer he thought about such contact. The same was true for the tingling and soft buzz he felt in his head on recalling kissing her. Far from being unsettling he found the sensations to be intoxicating in the most enthralling of manners. His body and mind was racked by craving, which he did not and would not contemplate acting upon whilst she was sleeping. Though he had not the true method of comparison, he likened the intensity of feeling of what it might be like if a human was starved of oxygen.

With her eyelids closed, but not screwed shut tightly – as he recalled from the times he had witnessed her experiencing particularly distressing nightmares, when he would lie at her side upon her bed and firmly outside of the covers she lay underneath – and her mouth open slightly to let out soft huffs of breath, she looked incredibly peaceful. To observe how serene she was in her sleeping state, untroubled by less than pleasant dreams or worries that may occupy her while she was awake, delighted Vision deeply.

His thoughts drifted for a moment to the time shortly after his reawakening in Wakanda. After several days spent adjusting to his surroundings, as well as his consciousness, Wanda had approached him, dressed in her nightwear. The bashful smile upon her face and flush of colour in the apples of her cheeks endeared him profoundly. Her invitation to him to share her bed did not seem as monumental to him as it perhaps should have done, given Wanda's reactions. They were mere flashes and fragments, nothing that he was able to piece together with any clear uniformity or certain recollection, but he certainly did remember in some form a number of beds in a series of rooms, the one constant being that he and Wanda were nestled within them, very often lying in the same embrace.

He drifted further, until settling on a particular phrase that he had known several of the people he considered himself close to to have uttered, including both Clint and Laura in the time they had spent residing at the Bartons' home. Given his preferences, he supposed that he was what they called 'a morning person'. There was a quality which these emergent hours contained which seemed both elusive and deeply nourishing. Something precious and filled with wonder, about not only his own existence but that of other beings and the world, the universe, at large. In the quiet and calm he could roam far and wide within the plains of his mind, choosing to explore from one place to the next or focus very closely on a certain thought or feeling.

Usually it gave him exhilaration and peace almost in tandem, along with profound satisfaction. From all that he had learned about humankind and the ways in which they searched for knowledge as well as recreation, he thought of it as being a kind of meditation in which he discovered more about who he was, as opposed through the depths of JARVIS' memory banks, the components of what had been the Mind Stone, now replicated as close in structure to the original as it was possible to create, and even the distant imprints of Ultron.

Yet in the past week – perhaps yet even longer, subconsciously - he had found himself troubled, and the time of day that was typically revered had become characterised by an uncomfortable restlessness which affected him mentally, physically and emotionally.

He extricated himself with the utmost care and heightened awareness of his movements, employing a degree of levitation in the process. He was very keen to ensure that he did not disturb Wanda from her sleep in the act of getting up, especially as the dimensions of the bed were quite narrow – certainly for the occupancy of two beings, which he could not have imagined was what this particular bed was designed for.

She made a murmuring sound before turning her body deeper into the bed. Vision stayed for as long as he needed to deem that she was still soundly slumbering before making his departure.

He did not intend to go anywhere further than the kitchen, imagining that being within the lower level of the house would sufficiently help to adjust his thinking. He expected to be alone in his wakefulness, and as such, was temporarily surprised to find another member of the household already up, standing rather than sitting at the counter.

Far from being perturbed that he was not alone after all, he found himself being glad for her presence, particularly as he considered that, despite sharing the house for a number of weeks, they had not had the opportunity to spend any meaningful time together.

"Miss Ro- Natasha."

She smiled at his correction in addressing her as she turned around to face him.

"Morning, Vision."

"Good morning," he echoed her sentiment. Though he considered it rather impolite to notice – and he would certainly not vocalise the thought to Natasha herself – he could not fail to recognise that her eyes were heavy, indicating that she had slept little. "Although it is very early, so I suppose that most other people would not currently categorise it as such."

She let out a short laugh. "I guess not."

Vision regarded Natasha as she combed her hair, which was also loose at the present moment, with her fingers. On finishing that action she then stretched her arms at either side of her, arching her back and rising on her toes while she did so.

"I woke up at about three and couldn't get back to sleep, so I figured why not get up?"

"If you would rather I went elsewhere – I do not wish to intrude."

She shook her head whilst folding her arms. He knew that such a gesture was typically one of defence, but it did not seem that Natasha was employing it for that reason; rather, it was a purely instinctive action.

"This house is as much yours as it is mine." He found himself rather intrigued by her line of thinking. Her mouth moved into a welcoming smile. "I'd like the company."

"Thank you. I am glad of that."

He considered that perhaps company could possibly help ease the disquiet of his mind, as opposed to being left alone to ruminate, and spending time with Natasha might prove to be very beneficial, indeed.

"Would you like some tea? Or, depending on whether you would rather begin the day properly, some coffee?" Vision saw that Natasha was a little perplexed by his offer, and smiled. "Despite my not consuming either beverage, I have been assured that my attempts at making them are more than satisfactory. Wanda does comment that I am particularly skilled at making tea, and I recall often making coffee for Mr Stark when the Avengers compound was operational."

"I hope that Tony didn't just treat you like his personal servant." Natasha's tone of voice was concerned.

"Oh, not at all. I would have liked to have spent a great deal more quality time, I believe is the phrase, with him, from all I can remember of the time before everything –" He trailed off instinctively, not wishing to cause any emotional upset to Natasha, as well as still configuring the gaps in his memory. "But happily, we now have the opportunity to explore that which we had not previously, for a number of reasons, in our relationship."

She seemed satisfied by his reply, nodding her head and staring slightly to the left of his own gaze.

"Then coffee would be really good."

He was happy to put his mind to another use, aside from the fretting he had appeared to have fallen into without any reasonable methods of escape. Remaining wary of the other members of the household he went through the process making as little noise as possible, although the escalating aroma was not something that could be avoided.

When he had finished he saw that Natasha had moved onto the porch, taking a seat upon the steps there. On hearing him come out too she shuffled and gestured for him to sit down beside her, which he did once he had passed the cup into her hands.

The sun was not fully risen in the sky, but the light that had emerged was especially clear, casting a gleam upon the landscape which was striking. Even from a distance everything seemed to stand both in its individual space as well as within the larger scene; nothing was out of place.

"Sorry," Natasha began, hardly intrusive as Vision continued to consider how well-constructed the earth appeared to be, "I don't know quite how it works with you and sleeping, and whether this is usual for you."

"There's no need for you to apologise," he reassured, turning his gaze towards her, "I am attuned to rising early, but I don't always stray from the room which has effectively become Wanda's and my own. Often I read, or remain there with my thoughts. Wanda is not what is commonly called a 'morning person', but I do not mind being alone at this time of day. Usually, I find it invigorating."

"I get that. My body clock is all kinds of messed up, goes with the territory. There is definitely something to be said for the time before most of the world is awake, aside from the birds and the other little things we don't see. Something special."

He watched as she lifted the mug to her lips, taking a slow sip and looking out over the view before them.

"Almost like a miracle has happened overnight."

Her words came as the wheels rather than the catalyst, giving the courage that he required to speak up and attach some sort of logic to the static which occupied his mind at present. He knew that he had previously got on well with Natasha; indeed, next to Wanda, she had been the one to pay him most considered attention, offering understanding and empathy to his condition. They seemed to share an impetus to the same goal, which was to keep peace and harmony, not merely amongst the Avengers but to the population at large.

Perhaps this shared aspect of their personalities had a part to play in making him feel safe, but he understood that it was their shared experience which likely made the real contribution.

"May I ask you something, Natasha?"

Her eyes landed upon him once more, widening as though she already had knowledge of what he was to say. "Of course. Any time."

He smiled a little to acknowledge that he was grateful for her generosity, both of time and emotional capacity.

"I have been giving more thought recently to all that has happened, and trying to – well, I'm not sure that 'quantify' is the right word to use, all things considered." He noticed that she smiled softly, which put him at a degree of greater ease. "Of course I am immensely thankful to have been revived, and more than that, that all that had been destroyed without reason was returned to life. Yet I cannot help from question, as much as it pains me to do so."

It wounded him even now, as he attempted to put what was unfathomable into words, let alone words which could be correctly interpreted and perhaps even be empathised with. He certainly did not want to give the impression that the tyrant's line of thinking was a rational one, yet some part of him wanted to believe that Thanos was not entirely lacking in compassion.

He felt it necessary to move his thoughts away from the specifics of the situation, in order to better understand what he was grappling with.

"I recall something Captain Rogers said once after a mission that did not go as planned; that it is not up to us to make everything right. Indeed, that it would be an immense burden to shoulder all of the time."

The voice of the former Captain Rogers rung clear for him, particularly so in the last few days. We can't come to the rescue all of the time, and we've got to be okay with that. It's not a question of choosing or thinking that one thing is better than the other. It's just the way life is.

We might be heroes, but we're not more than human.

That resonated, for the most part, with him.

"Death is a part of life, even if it happens prematurely," he settled upon, still not quite sure if it was what he wanted to say most of all. "I suppose, in the case of myself, perishing before the mass decimation, I am trying to reason why I should have been revived. Not simply because I am what I am."

Natasha was quiet, absorbing what he had said, cradling her cup in a way that made him think of Wanda, making whatever was responsible within his chest ache all the more.

"I don't know that I have any answers for you, Vision," she answered, her words not as much of a disappointment than he might have expected, "except to say that I think it has a lot to do with who you are. As well as who you have in your life who cares for you."

She began to smile as she brought the mug up again, giving time for what she had said to sink in. While comforting, it was a concept that he continued to struggle with in these quieter moments. His existence was not meant to be more precious than any other. If anything, he believed that it should be inferior.

"You said it yourself," Natasha continued, "it was destruction, not death. What happened first should never have happened. You were meant to have a life. And, from everything I know, it was only just beginning."

Wanda was close to Natasha. She may well have confided in her many times in the period in which they were divided. It was not lost on him that the original Avenger might know more of his humanity – his attempt at constructing it, at least – than he was aware of at this stage.

Perhaps he would investigate further, but at another time. For now he was seeking commonality, in order to feel…affirmation? Comfort? He was unsure, but he also suspected that it might bring him some semblance of peace.

"You and I both made sacrifices. Yours was more successful than mine."

"Which was not your fault," Natasha intoned, quite gravely.

"I do not believe that I am without fault, though I accept that the circumstances were extraordinary." He examined Natasha's face, considering that she appeared very much at ease. "Do you feel…disappointment is too slight a word, and I am not sure that guilt fits either, given the remarkable situation."

She came to the rescue quickly. "Are you asking whether it feels less, because I survived?"

He nodded. The concept was too much to untangle, alone.

"I didn't have to think about it. It felt like it was how it was meant to be. I'd spent five years trying to figure it out, what should have been impossible but I knew couldn't be, not with those of us who were left…"

Her words trailed off and she bowed her head. He touched a hand to her shoulder as she gathered herself and she looked at him from the side of her eyes, softly smiling.

"Given how I was the one driving it all forward, it felt right. I was glad to die, if it meant that everyone else had a chance of living again. The only thing that made me doubt a little bit was the pain in my chest. Clint's pain, when he knew that I was serious. It was kind of like dying before death itself. I had to do it. There was no other way."

He understood, deeply so. Wanda's face and the anguish etched upon it rushed to the front of his mind; with Natasha's explanation of her own sacrifice he felt like he was kneeling upon the earth in Wakanda again, waiting for his death.

"I never expected that I'd live again, afterwards. I mean, it was all so surreal that I thought maybe it was some kind of afterlife for a good few days. But that would have been much weirder than reality." She laughed for a moment. "I tried to explain it to myself before Thor came and brought me back, but I just had to let it go. I was glad to die. I was thankful to live. If I had to do it again, with no guarantees of coming back, then there's no question, I absolutely would. In a heartbeat. But everything is so unexplainable, this whole universe. Trying to reason why…it seems kind of insignificant, against everything."

He thought that he could understand that, though his natural instincts were to repel against ignorance.

"You know, out of everyone, I wanted to bring you back most of all."

He was rather perplexed by her admission, and had to verbally admit as such, which made her smile.

"It didn't seem fair. You were still so new to the world, with so much to experience. When I saw you there and what happened…it shocked me like nothing else I'd ever known. All that optimism and hope that you embody, gone and so cruelly. It was horrific."

He paused upon that for a while, not having considered that he could be such a symbol.

"And you should know that I've always had a soft spot for you. Well, not in the way that Wanda does." She laughed again.

"I believe that a founding reason of her attraction to me is the fact that I am indestructible. Or, at least, that I was meant to be."

Her eyes went wider and she appeared aghast for a moment or two.

"Believe me, she loves you for a lot more than that."

He was aware that he had been flippant, but the confirmation of that which he knew deep down to be true made him feel warm and incredibly happy. It was also good to know that an observer could interpret the depth of his and Wanda's feelings for one another, though they were not particularly in need of the approval.

"You should talk to her about how you're feeling. She's not fragile, she wouldn't break."

Vision was impressed that she had been able to predict his argument before he could vocalise it.

"I will," he answered after another minute of contemplation. "I believe that it would help if you were to talk to Mr Barton, also."

"Talking's not really our thing," Natasha replied with a half-smile upon her face, "but, times have changed."

Vision smiled. "Thank you, Natasha. Our discussion has helped me greatly."

"I'm glad."

He offered to wash her finished coffee mug but she was insistent that she could do so herself, and so he returned upstairs, once he had told Natasha that he would look forward to seeing her again later in the day. He levitated into the room so as to avoid making any noise upon the slightly creaking floorboards and as he approached the bed he was glad to see that Wanda was still asleep.

He believed as much until he climbed back beneath the covers.

"Vizh?" she murmured, her eyes blinking open as she turned towards him, one hand draped over her forehead. "What time is it?"

"Still early," he replied, foregoing precision in favour to occupy his thoughts with her and how lovely she looked, covered with sleepiness.

"Mmmm," she emitted, reaching for his arm to fix upon her waist, "let's just stay here awhile. Cosy."

He smiled as she snuggled herself against him, holding her close with his arm draped about her.

"Anything you wish."


He stood in front of the mirror that was fixed to the wall of the bathroom, staring at his reflection for some time, making adjustments to the hair upon his head that were hardly noticeable. He angled his face by the smallest of fractions, observing how the winter weather had made the skin depleted of moisture. Leaning closer towards his reflection, he touched fingertips to one cheek and then the other, examining carefully. The light in the room was not what could be deemed flattering. He noticed a scattering of stubble upon his jaw, skimming up towards the cheekbones. It had not yet ceased to fascinate him, and he had toyed with the idea of leaving it alone and growing a moustache or beard. In doing so he would go some way to looking considerably different, which would surely help in the current situation.

Until now it was not something he had given much thought to. He had found an appearance that he was comfortable with. Though it was still something of a novelty to gaze at himself to such a degree, most of the time moving swiftly through cities without catching sight of windows or puddles left by the rain, he did recognise himself in this guise. Perhaps it had something to do with the length of time he had been adopting it, but he believed that to be only one factor. He felt like himself, and the feeling was one which gave him a great deal of serenity, as well as satisfaction.

It was a happy bonus that Wanda considered him aesthetically pleasing. She would sense if he felt ill at ease, and tell him that he shouldn't change his disguise for her sake.

And yet he would do anything for her. It was the determining factor in any situation that he was absolutely certain of.

He remained absorbed – somewhat ashamedly so, if he was to contemplate the question of vanity in great detail – even when he became aware of the door behind him widening and the scent of fruit tea, bed linen and oriental noted perfume awakening his olfactory function.

His reflection smiled widely at him when he registered her arms wrapping around his middle, though he could only discern a small fragment of her appearing in the mirror, hidden as she was behind his back.

She rested her head against his frame and he felt her warmth transferring to him, surging throughout his body.

"I woke up and you weren't there."

The heat of affection was tempered by that of shame on his part.

"I'm sorry. I got distracted."

"Hey, don't apologise. I'd get distracted by myself too if I was you." He felt her smile against the t-shirt he wore, and also was aware of his blushing at her remark. "I just missed you."

She hugged him a little tighter, making him smile wider. He caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissing between her knuckles.

When he turned to face her, her beauty was dazzling in the harsh blue-tinged hue that hurt his eyes slightly. She was softness, comfort in her baggy long-sleeved top and better-fitting shorts, pillow-rumpled hair and tired, happy eyes.

Home. That was the word that best described what he felt when he looked at her.

"Would you like it if I stayed for a couple of days longer?"

The light that filled her face – much kinder than that which lit the room – filled his heart with immeasurable joy.

"I'd love it. Vizh, you don't even need to ask…"

"Well, I thought, perhaps…but I did not want to presume. If you had other plans or commitments…"

"I'm free as a – well, I'm not, but you know what I mean." She laughed, full and from the depth of her soul, her hands pressed against his chest. "But what about Stark? Won't he notice that you're gone?"

"He is not without things to keep him occupied."

In truth, he knew his absence did not impact upon Mr Stark in the slightest, but if he commented as such it would only anger and upset Wanda.

"I would rather spend the time with you."

Another beautiful smile broke upon her face, one which he wished to capture forever. She barreled against his chest mere seconds later and he held her tightly to him, savouring the moment and her, and trying not to let his thoughts overwhelm him.

- She can't stay with me – It's all I want – I can't keep leaving her

He did all he could to quiet his mind down, anxious that she might hear. He was always open to her in every aspect, but he did not want her to pick up on any of his distress. It was strange that he should feel it when he was so elated.

In order to achieve equilibrium, he resorted to the superficial.

"Do you think I should get a haircut?"

Glowing green eyes looked up at him, smiling but seconds before her lips did.

"I thought you could take care of that yourself?"

"Most likely. But it would also be a new experience."

She tilted her head, reaching up her hand to brush the air before her fingers raked through the front of his hair.

"It's up to you, of course, but I kind of like it how it is."

He smiled. Her affirmation was all he needed.

"Then I shall refrain."


The reassembling of The Avengers was becoming less of a concept and further to reality, predominately due to Natasha appointing herself in a position of guidance at the helm. Clint did not especially like that she had undertook such a role. He would have preferred that she relinquished ties altogether and settled down into a life of normality, as he had done. "What's so wrong with being Auntie Nat?" he had asked her over the table one evening, Laura throwing him a glance from where she sat directly opposite.

She had smiled and responded, nothing at all, looking fondly at Lila who sat to the right of her.

"But you know me," she went on to say.

Better than anyone, she didn't need to say.

"This is what I'm made for."

Laura's hand was upon his arm before he could do any more than look at Natasha, his stare focused but not hard.

"Right," he said, once the atmosphere had settled, "since when have you ever listened to me, anyway?"

"I listened all the time," she was unable to resist a shoot-back, "you were always too busy chasing the target."

For Clint's peace of mind, Natasha's involvement was to be supervisory. It made sense to have one of the original Avengers to oversee things, especially now that Fury had turned his attentions to the situation off-Earth. She hadn't entirely ruled out helping with the occasional mission on the ground if required – and didn't hide the fact, to Clint's chagrin if not his surprise – but it would be her skills of intelligence that she would employ first and foremost.

After having something of an extended break since arriving at the Barton residence, and sensing the charged shift in matters, Wanda and Vision began to resume their training. It was nothing too intensive, with Natasha keen that they prioritise their wellbeing above anything, but it felt good to prepare themselves and ensure that they would not find themselves unfocused or out of practice when the time did come to take up their duties on a permanent basis once more.

While he greatly enjoyed the time and space to reflect and to be, Vision conceded that he was looking forward to serving a larger purpose again, and he could not feel more assured knowing that Wanda would be at his side in doing so – if not always physically, then certainly spiritually. Their mental bonding was stronger than ever, thanks to their sharing her energy, and it was a factor which Natasha was confident would be a significant advantage within the team.

It was the matter of the team and its incomplete status which lingered, and brought the conference into play on a rather dreary afternoon. Cooper hooked his laptop up to the television screen, which saved the four of them – Natasha, Wanda, Vision and Clint – huddling around the smaller device. Joining from their various locations were Sam, Bucky and Scott, as well as Tony and Pepper. Since learning of Natasha's close involvement in the new operation, Tony had been keen to lend his support too. It couldn't be denied that his technological empire would be invaluable to the team, and Pepper had also offered to head up the media side of things – after all that had happened there was no way that The Avengers could operate under the radar.

Of course, there were other reasons – chiefly that Tony Stark found it impossible to keep himself out of anything he'd been a part of. If he had been physically able he would have signed up for the job himself, no questions about it.

"What about Strange?" Natasha offered, a little alarmed at how quickly the options had become depleted.

Tony's grimace filled the screen. "That guy's ego is ridiculously huge. We've gotta have a team of equals, not one member who wants to overshadow the rest with delusions of grandeur."

"Coming from you, that's saying something," Clint scoffed.

Tony chose to ignore the aside – likely in the spirit of self-acceptance. "Besides, his deal is all the mystic shebang. The trillion different dimensions or whatever. His head's not going to be in the game when it comes to a terrorist gang in South East Asia."

"If I may interject," Vision held a hand up for permission to speak, "I believe that keeping a view to the other things that may be possible, and indeed to have a teammate who is well-versed in such matters, would be extremely useful."

"I agree, Vision," Natasha said, looking towards him, "we can't shut away what has been suggested, not after Thanos. Perhaps Strange is best as an on-call for when its needed the most, but that list is getting pretty long."

She stared down as though there was an actual list in her lap, a hand pressed to the back of her neck while she exhaled a sigh.

She straightened up a minute later, turning her focus straight ahead.

"I mean, there's someone pretty much staring us in the face here, figuratively speaking. We know that he's capable. Not only us, but the whole world – "

"Stop there, Romanoff. Peter is out of bounds."

Natasha frowned, folding her arms. "You want to tell me exactly why that is, Stark?"

Tony's eyes widened, exasperated that she even had to ask. He turned to Pepper, who fixed him with a look, before putting his gaze headlong again.

"Okay, for one, he's too young. He's a kid, and it's too much responsibility."

Vision raised his hand once more. "Technically speaking, I am the youngest. Mr Parker has fourteen years worth of experience of the world which I am lacking."

"Can't argue with that," Natasha interjected.

"You have a super-computer in your head, Vision, not to mention super-human strength and durability. It kinda plugs the gaps." Tony allowed himself a moment of pride before getting back to the matter at hand. "It's a hell of a burden to put on the shoulders of someone who isn't out of high-school yet. And I'd prefer that he graduates college before he even thinks about doing anything remotely superhero-related."

"With all respect, you're not his guardian," Natasha said, matter-of-fact and with no insinuating tone. "I get it, you feel responsible. You never intended to make him an Avenger, we all know the circumstances were exceptional. But at the same time, you can't take it back."

"Telling adolescent boys what they ought to do is right up there with the toughest missions I've been on," Clint chipped in.

Tony was silent for long enough that they started to suspect that something might be amiss with the internet connection.

"I pushed him into this in the first place, so I gotta know when to pull back. The stuff with Beck gave me a lot of sleepless nights. I never thought we'd be able to explain it away, convince the world that Spider-Man had nothing to do with Peter Parker, but we managed it. Mainly because Pep is a genius when it comes to sweetening the press."

Pepper lowered and shook her head, while Tony pulled her hand close enough to his mouth to place a kiss upon it.

"I owe him his freedom. All the stuff I never got the chance to do as a kid, being the son of the not-so-great Howard Stark."

Natasha and Clint looked at one another, knowing that Tony had a point.

"Who says that we have to have another member?" Scott announced, his face now filling the screen. "Five's a pretty solid number."

"It's better to have even numbers in the team to cover all bases. I wouldn't want anyone going solo on a mission, especially not now," Natasha stated.

"Ah, good point," Scott replied, shrinking back from his own screen.

"What about Rhodey?" Sam suggested, "we did some good work together after Ultron. He's a good guy and a brilliant asset."

"I won't argue with that," Tony said, "but what happened with Thanos left him shaken. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say that he'd done enough already and he was too old to start again."

"Not older than I am," Bucky interjected.

"He's more than capable," Tony continued, "I just think it'd take time. Probably longer than you really want."

"We could…" Scott began, before pulling up, "ah, shoot, it'd be an odd number. Never mind."

Silence fell upon the gathering after Clint had joked about whether they still had the means of contacting the raccoon, the collective thought intensive.

"Um, this might be kind of obvious," Wanda began tentatively, glancing around the room and then towards the screen, "but wouldn't it be best to ask rather than assume? I know there are good reasons for both cases."

She made a point of looking at Tony as she said so, as he was the closest to both Peter and Rhodey and the one who had the most reservations about both options.

"The rest of us are here because we want to be Avengers," she went on, "even though it might have been easier to walk away. I absolutely wouldn't hold it against Rhodey if he wanted to do that, or Peter. They would know better than any of us about what's in their heart."

Though she spoke with conviction she quickly averted her gaze once she had finished her statement.

"That's all I have to say, really."

Natasha smiled towards the younger woman, though, with her eyes trained upon her lap, Wanda wasn't able to see her mentor's encouragement. Vision had filled with pride and admiration as soon as Wanda had started to speak. Sitting at her side he reached his hand the short distance to take her own, and when his fingers slid against hers, she lifted her head to look solely at him, her face filling with a beautiful smile.

"You know, Maximoff?" Tony said, leaning in closer towards what was probably a microscopic device which allowed him and Pepper to appear to the rest of them, "I think that's the best idea that anyone's had in this whole thing."

Wanda looked a little taken aback, as though she wasn't able to believe that Tony could say something so positive in address to her.

"Thanks," she uttered softly.

Vision issued a small squeeze to the fingers that he had remained holding.

"Well, that settles it," Natasha said, "I'll arrange calls with both Rhodey and Peter in the next week."

"May the best man win," Clint exclaimed, "though from what I know they're both pretty great."

"I gotta say, no matter what I said, I'm kinda relieved," Tony added, "as it stands it's a pretty Team Cap heavy state of affairs."

Natasha shook her head as she got to her feet. "Okay, I'm about to cut you off before you can cause any trouble."

There came a laugh from the other side of the screen. "Who's the expert here, Romanoff?"


A couple of hours after dinner Vision and Wanda headed upstairs, Wanda taking a shower before entering their room. In the time that she had been occupied Vision had tried to read the book he had started a few days ago but found that he had trouble centering his concentration, the problem being so much that he was only able to digest the opening two sentences of the paragraph he was picking up from. With a little frustration he placed the bookmark back between the pages and put the volume down upon the cabinet at the bedside.

His conversation with Natasha from a couple of days previous remained in his head. He was fixated upon what she had said, that he should discuss his thoughts and feelings with Wanda. The last thing he wanted was to cause her any distress, and he feared that if he were to raise the subject of that which had been troubling him distress was precisely what would follow.

Yet, if he were to remain silent and keep his troubles to himself he was well aware that the problem would not only persist but was very likely to worsen.

"Hey." She held a towel in her hands as she padded towards the bed, using it to dry her hair intermittently. "Not in the mood for reading?"

"It would seem not."

She smiled at him, letting out a small chuckle, probably at how solemn he appeared.

"That's okay. You don't have to read every night."

He managed a small smile. He did not want her to use her powers to read him, it was unfair.

"I'm sorry if I have seemed distracted recently."

Wanda reached a hand towards him, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "Never say sorry, Vizh, not to me. I guess you've been a little not yourself, but nothing too bad. Nothing that has made me worry."

Her eyes were kind upon him. He focused on the exact shade of green of her irises, the gentle pressure of the pads of her fingers as she kneaded his crimson skin.

"If you want to talk, I'm here to listen." There was but two seconds of silence before she added, leaning her frame towards his own, "If you don't, then I'm here too."

I will always be here was the implication that she did not need to vocalise.

"I suspect that you will not like what I have to say."

He watched as a hint of a smile played upon her lips, lifting them upwards. Her fingers had stilled in their repetitive motions, but now her hand was covering his, or at least attempting to do so.

"Try me."

Vision averted his gaze momentarily, feeling uncomfortable about the instinct to do so. He was very aware of Wanda right by his side, envisioned the expression on her face shifting to a concerned frown which deepened as he exhaled a lengthy sigh.

"I have been contemplating my revival. Not the mechanics of it," he paused to lift his eyes to her again, smiling to acknowledge her integral part in proceedings before turning reflective once more, "but rather the principles and the philosophy, if that is not too grand a term."

Wanda was still looking at him, staring as though perhaps she did not quite believe that he was real. The look in her eyes was both awe-inspiring and deeply affecting to him.

"If, for one or various reasons, it had proved impossible for me to exist once more…"

He sensed her agitation in the swift change of her body language, the way she turned as if to escape while her hand stayed twined with his.

"Vision," she said with sharpness, and he could not comprehend whether it was a warning or an order, "don't talk like that."

He could not see her face, which made it all the more difficult to voice his thoughts.

"Wanda."

He spoke her name softly several times, almost as a whisper, which appeared to ease her. After a couple of minutes had passed her body became significantly less tense; she looked towards him once more, sitting herself back down on the bed. The grief and sorrow still lingered around her features, which he felt deeply guilty for, yet he was unable to retreat.

He traced his fingers over her palm before linking their hands together again, holding on to affirm that everything was true, that it was him and he was there.

"If I had not come back to life," he reiterated, "I would like to know whether you would have been happy."

She looked down at their joined hands for a few moments, staying silent until she was able to look him in the eyes again.

"Honestly? I don't think so."

Her answer was an outcome that he had considered as a possibility, but the one which he had dreaded the most. He felt it as a crushing blow, weighing down upon his whole body.

Wanda tilted her head slightly before she moved to expand. "I think the most I could have hoped for would to have been content. I would have still been with The Avengers, and that would make me feel needed. Given me something to focus upon. And everything would be fine, nothing would be wrong and I'd still have the others, and Clint and Laura and the kids. But happy…without you, Vizh, I don't think it could be possible. There would be something always in the way, a wall of shadow that I couldn't get past or break down, not with anything I can do."

It hurt him to think that she would have spent her life mourning him, a part of her always in despair. He did not think himself to be worth such a sacrifice.

And yet if their roles had been reversed, and the price of his existence was that Wanda's was extinguished forever, he would have pleaded to be destroyed again, straight away.

"Before Pietro died, I thought my future was certain. That we would be together for all of our lives, until we were old and our hair was grey, though his was already kind of white." Her laugh, as brief as it was, came as a balm of relief. "It's funny, some days when I saw the picture it was just the two of us. But other times he had a wife, sometimes even a child. A little girl who looked just like him. I never had a husband. The possibility never crossed my mind. Then he was gone, and everything turned to darkness. It was dark for a long time. It took so long to pull myself out of it, and when I fell, sometimes I didn't want to get back up again."

She pressed her palm more firmly against his, cradled their joined hands with her other.

"I never dreamed that we would have what we have, and when it happened it made it all the more precious to me. I'd scold myself at times. 'Wanda, how could you ever think this would not be true?' It's funny, I guess. Once, I never thought that I could have a life like this. A love like you."

She smiled widely; he felt how happy she was, the emotion so intense. Her green eyes still shimmered with tears as she looked at him.

"I suppose that's exactly why…if I didn't have you back again, everything would feel so…untrue."

"Wanda."

He spoke her name with reverence, such deep love and devotion. He raised their hands to his mouth, unfolding them so that he could press his lips solely to the back of her hand and the curve of her thumb.

A series of images flashed one after the other in the back of his mind, of carrying out this very same act before with the same level of care and affection, fervently hoping that she would recognise it.

He heard her sigh softly, and he wondered whether she did so unconsciously.

"I'm sorry."

His lips stilled upon her skin and his eyes looked into her own, observing a mixture of elation and regret.

"My happiness isn't your responsibility, Vizh," she said, her voice heavier than before, "neither is making my sadness go away."

She cupped his cheek with her hand for a few moments, her gaze intent upon him.

"You won't know, but I came to see you before I used my powers on you. I was actually deciding on whether it would be best to try, or to let you go."

Her voice crackled in her throat. He hadn't any doubt that she had wrestled with the decision beforehand, and her confirmation of such issued comfort to the mind that had been troubled.

"It was always about you, Vizh. Giving you back the life that never should have been stolen from you. When you came back, I got caught up in my emotions…I guess I forgot about what I said."

Her expression betrayed sorrow, as well as something he couldn't quite interpret.

"Wanda?" he asked gently, directing her gaze back to him from where it had briefly fallen to the floor.

Her smile didn't quite fit upon her lips. "I've been selfish, despite promising myself that I wouldn't be, and I'm sorry for that."

"There is no need for you to apologise," he told her sincerely.

Her hand brushed his cheek delicately before falling into her lap.

"If you want some time apart, it's okay. Even with The Avengers, we can still work together. However much space you need and however long it takes, it's all good with me."

He was rather bemused, not expecting such a consequence.

"Wanda, I have no wish or desire to be anywhere else than with you," he was quick to answer, hoping that he could put her mind at rest.

Her face brightened once more, a smile that was far more genuine gracing it.

"If you're sure," she ventured, "I have kinda hogged you ever since."

He smiled at her sheepishness. "Given the circumstances, it is entirely understandable. Though I do not consider it monopolising. Over the last few days I have been experiencing…not dreams, exactly. I believe them to be memories of our time together after the relationship between Mr Stark and Captain Rogers broke down irrevocably."

"Really?" She smiled yet wider as he nodded in assent. "Vizh, that's amazing."

"My appearance for the most part was considerably different."

She laughed. "It was. As handsome as the disguise was, I'm glad that you can be yourself now."

He could feel himself growing rather warm under her intent stare.

"Putting these memories alongside the experiences I was already able to recall after my revival, the difference in my emotional state from the times I was with you to the times that we were apart could not be more contrasting." He squeezed her hand as the newer, rediscovered memories burned brighter with the merest of consideration. "It was elation followed by misery."

"Oh, Vizh," her voice was soft, sorrowful for his plight, "I wish you didn't have to remember feeling miserable."

"I am glad that I can," he responded, smiling although it probably seemed odd to do so. "It reaffirms what I knew to be true from the moment we were reacquainted, even though my memories were considerably fractured then. That my greatest and truest happiness lies with you."

The beaming smile was back on her face, and he knew then that he had not seen nor could recall a more beautiful sight.

"I believe that you said something about forever on that day?"

Her eyes were striking as they glimmered with light. "When I picture my future, it's with you. I want everything with you, Vizh."

"And I want the same."

He did not want to darken the mood by raising the fact that he would not be able to provide her with everything that she deserved, but he would certainly do all that he possibly could to ensure her happiness.

"I'm glad we're on the same page," she said, smiling as she leant in closer to him and tipped her head back a little.

The kiss which he initiated, as was her wish for him to do so, was sweet, full of the love and promises they had shared. He could feel her smiling against his mouth and it sent delightful sparks surging through him, his hands placed against her waist.

"I love you, Wanda."

She pressed a hand to his cheek, pressing herself against him.

"I love you too, Vizh. Always."

They fell into kissing again after exchanging the words that meant so much – quite literally, the bed beneath them cushioning their fall. Wanda curled herself around his frame, and though he was focused on their touches and kisses, he became suddenly aware that the dimensions were even narrower than he had previously given credit for.

"I think Laura said something about everyone getting an early night," Wanda said, her eyes sparkling as her hands traced his sides, "and I know for a fact that she bought earplugs for Clint."

"Oh," he uttered. Beneath him Wanda giggled, her hands looping about his neck.

"If you don't want to…"

"I would certainly like to," he responded, causing her to smile up at him. That night in Wakanda seemed like a long time ago, though he adored holding and sleeping beside her, doing little more than talking and exchanging chaste kisses.

"I'm glad to hear it."

He was so caught up in staring at her that he was hardly aware that she had switched places so that she was now above him, pinning him in place with her knees either side of him. Her hair hung over him, brushing against his torso as she lowered herself in closer proximity.

"Because I really want to show you how much I love you, miy Vision."


She was everything, everywhere, all that he was able to feel. Her body beneath his own. Only moments before, they had moved together as one – before it became too much for them to hold onto, and wonder surrounded them. He became lost but not helpless, surrendering himself to her. They were still connected, in mind as well as in body, and he could not think of tearing himself away from her. Though she had temporarily lost motor function, her arms were looped around his neck. Her breathing was laboured, as was his own. His hands slipped upwards from her waist to brush up her sides, past her breasts, until they cupped her face tenderly.

Her eyelids were fluttering, her mouth parted slightly. He leaned away from her ever so slightly, still not separating.

His limbs felt light, his head as though it were on fire.

"Wanda."

She was his anchor.

Wanda. Wanda.

Before this night she was everything, but now…the feeling was unbelievable.

She was an irretrievable part of his soul, nestled within his heart.

Her eyes opened slowly, a hazy but beautiful smile stretching her lips.

"Vizh," she breathed his name and it sounded wonderful.

As wonderful as the feeling that had rushed through his body mere minutes ago, sending him soaring. He had experienced her pleasure in harmony with his own, reverberating within his mind. It gave meaning to the word euphoria.

She moved enough so that her hands were gripping his forearms, unwilling as he was to break their union.

"I hope that was…"

She beamed up towards him, the light from the moon and stars outside reflected in her face.

"That was everything," she said, her voice wavering a little.

She tugged at one of his hands, pulling it away from her face just enough so she could twine their hands together again.

Later, when their hearts had calmed but they were still tangled together, she told him that she was lucky that he had been her first and that it had been such a perfect experience.

He couldn't help from thinking that he was the lucky one, to be blessed with someone as perfect as her.


A/N: After being all Wanda up to now, it was fun to write this chapter from Vision's POV. And he's remembering more about those two years of stolen moments...

Also, the WandaVision teaser is giving me all of the domestic!Scarletvision feels.