Vision opened his eyes to darkness, and his heart sank with dread. No. Not again...
He was back. He wished this place would go away. It frightened him. It was dark and empty, all except for the hotel door with the antique lamps hanging on either side, with red, yellow and green light streaming out from underneath…. This must have been the fifth time he had dreamed of this cold, empty universe with the door.
There was something... slightly different about the door this time. The lights continued to glow from beneath, the unknown green, the familiar red and yellow, and the lamps still flickered. This time, the wood was scratched, the door handle more tarnished, and there was a crack in the mahogany surface.
Vision put two and two together, as he looked at the door. This is the door to your memory. He felt less frightened of it now, could feel invisible strings pulling him forward. The door was calling him. If he opened it... would he get his memory back?
As usual, Vision heard sounds coming from behind it. More of the same he'd heard before - the loud noises, shouting, shattering glass, explosions. Softer sounds, like whispers, rain, footsteps, movement of skin across fabric. He tried to listen, these softer sounds somehow more important to him. He heard Wanda's voice.
"Why did you leave me?"
"Just hold me."
"I'm here. Always."
Wanda had become his guide, the star to help him navigate dark seas. Everyday he would see a new island, offering him hope of reaching the mainland. Pieces of his life were returning, slotting together on their way to complete the jigsaw. But it was an agonisingly slow process, and Vision was growing impatient.
He was only remembering little things, and he was desperate for more. He wanted to know more than how to make tea, what books he used to like, how grocery shopping worked. He wanted to know the important things. He wanted to remember who he used to be. He wanted to remember Wanda.
Vision braced himself, and turned the shuddering handle. He couldn't believe it. After all this time, after a long, agonising wait -
It was locked.
"Try remember this." Vision whirled around, and for a fleeting moment, saw Josephine, standing there in a lab coat, a tazer in hand.
Vision's eyes flew open, and he sat up with such a force that he almost fell out of bed. He felt freezing, but the stone felt like it was on fire. He held his hand over it, waiting for the burning to pass. Eventually it did, and Vision could breathe again.
Goose was curled up by his feet, ear twitching occasionally. Vision had no idea why the flerken seemed to like him so much, but he was glad that Goose was there. He had no problem understanding why humans liked cats so much.
Vision slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Goose. He quietly paced for a few minutes, reducing his density so that nobody could hear him. He pressed his hands to his scalp. Why would the door exist, call to him, torment him with whispers of his past - just to be locked? He really wanted his memory back. He wanted his questions about himself – as well as Wanda – answered. He wanted to move on, forget Josephine...
Maybe he could ask Wanda about the dream. Maybe she could look into his head… not at 2.45am, though. Maybe tomorrow...
He certainly wasn't sleeping now. Vision found himself walking out of his room, as he headed down the hall to the kitchen and living room, thinking that his book could help him sleep once more. He came to a stop outside Wanda's room. He didn't like to invade her privacy - she had been adamant about him knocking before entering her bedroom - but he could hear something.
He poked his head through the slightly ajar door. Wanda was still asleep. Automatically he went to go, to leave her in peace, but then he heard her mutter something. One of her hands lay outstretched on her quilt, the fingers twitching and glowing faintly. The red light moved fluidly, and he noticed that the sleeve she was wearing was one with thumb-holes.
A random thought entered his head. Wanda loved to wear sleeves with thumb-holes. She almost always wore them to bed. The only piece of white clothing she owned was a pyjama top with thumb-holes...
"Help me..." Wanda muttered, eyelids flickering, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead. Vision felt a twinge of fear.
"Leave her! Just stop!"
Wanda could hear the desperate pleas of Clint, Sam and Scott, even as she convulsed on the cold metal floor. Her screams pierced through the air, eyes rolling into the back of her skull as she began to lose control over her body. She collapsed, eyelids flickering, hair full of static and smelling like smoke. Her throat was bleeding and felt like it were on fire. The metal prongs pierced her neck, feeling as though she were being stabbed repeatedly with fork.
A cloud of red was blooming across the straitjacket, as her wrist began to bleed again, more and more. For the first few hours she had struggled, desperately trying to free her arms, fighting and pulling until the straps cut into her wrist and made it bled. Every time they shocked her, it would reopen the wound.
Of course nobody would dare to give her medical attention - letting her out of the straitjacket was 'just too dangerous'. They were probably hoping she would die. It hurt. Everything hurt... maybe it would just be easier to let go...
What about the others? Steve, Nat, Sam, Clint - Vision? Why did he leave her? Did he see the soldiers storm the airfield, shooting her with guns loaded with sedatives until she fell unconscious? Did he know where she was, did he care?
"Wanda!" Cried Clint. "It's going to be okay! I promise!"
It is going to be okay. Wanda heard another voice, but it was inside her head. It was Pietro's. Don't let go. One winter in Sokovia had been so brutal, they almost froze to death one night. They had huddled in an abandoned building, Wanda whispering how cold she was, the tears on her face beginning to freeze.
Pietro had hugged her tight, telling her over and over: "You're not done yet. You're going to make it. Just keep fighting."
Wanda forced her knees to move, planting her feet into the floor. She slid to sit up, rising her eyes to the glass of the cell wall. She stared down the guard, who stood there, remote in his hand, wearing a sadistic grin. His thumb hovered over the red button. She glowered at him. Do it. I dare you.
The guard pressed the button again, and she collapsed to the ground once more.
Sam was screaming at the cameras above him. "You pieces of shit!" He began hitting the walls, and then he was trashing his cell, kicking at the bed, slamming himself into the door. At last, the guard dropped the remote and ran toward Sam, and then more guards were flooding the room, yelling, and then they were entering his cell, trying to restrain him.
Her vision was blurring and darkening. Then history no longer made sense, as something from the present entered. A dark figure manifested behind the bars of her cell, staring at her like she was an animal in a cage. The mask lit up, the green lines forming a maniacal smile, a syringe in her gloved hand.
Wanda cried out, sitting bolt upright with a gasp. Struggling to breathe, she looked around the room, expecting to see Josephine standing there, but her room was empty. She covered her face with both hands. It's just a dream... it's in the past. Josephine's not real, she wasn't there... A tear fell down her face, and Wanda brushed it away, screwing her eyes closed to stop anymore.
She instinctively looked around for Goose, but the flerken was absent. He normally liked sleeping in her bed, but he would sometimes change his mind and wander into Sam or Bucky's rooms in the middle of the night. Vision's arrival added more to the competition. Speaking of Vision... she sighed, running a hand over her messy hair.
"I can feel you, Vizh." There was silence, and after a moment, Vision stepped through the wall, a look of guilt plastered all over his face. He opened his mouth to apologise, but she held up a hand. "Don't. It's okay."
"I didn't mean to snoop."
"It's alright." Wanda switched on her salt lamp, gesturing for him to sit. Vision, ever the gent, sat in her desk chair as opposed to her bed. "How long were you listening to me for?"
"I was worried." Vision said, sincerely. "You were having a bad dream. I didn't know whether to wake you or not. I just happened to be walking by your room and I heard you talking."
"What was I saying?"
"I couldn't hear the words." Even though Vision had heard her say, clear as day, 'help me'. Wanda hugged her knees.
"I struggle to sleep as it is... but it's hard. It's like my mind punishes me for falling asleep..." Wanda unhooked her thumb from the hole in her sleeve, sweeping it across the light scar on her wrist. She remembered her dream, how the straitjacket had cut into her wrist until it bled.
"Since Ross?"
"Him being here reminded me of something." Wanda thought about telling him, but she didn't want to talk about the Raft, ever again. "Why were you awake, anyway?"
Vision hesitated, considering telling her. "I had one too, actually... a bad dream. The same one I've been having recently."
"The same one? Do you want to talk about it?"
So much. I want to tell you everything... "This may sound strange. But I keep seeing a door."
"A door?" Wanda frowned. "What does it look like?"
"I think it's a hotel door. It's mahogany, it's got two lamps hanging on either side, and it has a number on it. I hear things from inside it. Voices, random sounds. I don't know why it's a hotel door..."
"Hm." Wanda fiddled with her sleeve. "We did stay in a lot of hotels while we were together. In Europe," she added on, quickly.
"That does make sense." Vision nodded. "I think... it's the doorway to my memory, and if I open it, I'll get it back."
Wanda's heart thudded. "What if it's just..."
"It's more than a dream." Vision leaned forward. "I tried to open it, but it was locked. Could you look? Try to find it?"
"...Are you sure?"
Vision turned his face toward her, nodding. She scooched to the side of her bed, and he moved closer in the desk chair. She hesitated, lifting her hand, reaching for the unfamiliar stone. It glowed softly in the amber light of the salt lamp. She remembered Josephine's notes saying something about solar energy. Maybe that made it weaker than the Mind stone... what if she hurt him?
Wanda dropped her hand. "You don't want me inside your head."
"Please, Wanda." Vision took her hand, placed it directly on the stone. She hesitated, feeling her magic recoil. It didn't want to go back in there, not after what happened last time. She met his eyes, mechanical blue irises filled with pleading. "Please, look for my memories."
Wanda tried to ignore every image of Wakanda that came to mind. She braced herself, and filtered a weak tendril of energy into the stone. She looked, but... there was nothing. Nothing but Vision, as he was now, and only a little of who he used to be. She searched for his mind, but she may as well have be fumbling around in a dark room, searching for a light switch that didn't exist.
Josephine said she saw his memories, and she knew too much to lie. Maybe you're just not looking hard enough... the red light glowed brighter, and Wanda saw a few hazy images, like a mirage in a desert. Something was pushing her back, resisting, but Vision wasn't shutting her out. He had never been more open to her.
"I can't see them." She murmured.
"Keep looking..."
Vision studied her face as she concentrated. Her eyes were closed, brow furrowed. He found himself less occupied on his memory and more on the intricate details of her face; the shape of her eyes, mouth, the wisps of hair falling out of her braid. Stop it. You're friends. You're not supposed to notice these things... He looked away from her face, but in the process of moving his gaze, it went to her exposed neck. There was a dark, sunken scar on the side of her throat.
Vision gasped as the stone twinged sharply, but Wanda snatched her hand back as if he were a thousand degrees. "I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?" She sounded frantic, eyes round with fear.
"No, no, it's alright... it wasn't you. It happens sometimes. Did you see anything?"
"No. It's like it's... blocked. Like there's a barrier." Her voice thickened. "I'm sorry, Vizh."
"Nevermind." Vision tried to hide his disappointment. "Maybe another time."
Both Wanda and Vision tried to go back to bed. They tossed and turned in their rooms for about twenty minutes; Goose got so annoyed with Vision's unrest that he got up and slunk into Bucky's room, while Wanda stared up at the ceiling. She worried about her dream, Vision worried about the scar on her neck.
Eventually, Wanda accepted that she wasn't sleeping tonight. She caved, pulling on her dressing gown over her pyjamas. On her way out, she bumped into Vision in the hall. "Can't sleep either?"
"Not at all." He shook his head. "Do you..." Vision lifted his eyes. "Do you want to play a game of chess?"
At 3.30am? She smiled. "Sure."
Vision retrieved the chess set from his room, and they sat on the seating by the glass wall, the board between them, the moonlight as their light source. "It's been so long since we played." Wanda remarked, fondly. "You remember the rules?"
"Yes. White moves first, so that would be me..." Vision nodded. The corner of his mouth curved upwards, as he lifted one of the white pawns forward. "No cheating this time."
Wanda smirked, moving a black pawn forward. "Promise."