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Chapter One

Cork, Ireland

WANDA

The streets of Cork were mostly narrow and wound at odd angles up hills or down to bridges crossing the river. Steve had found the team an apartment above a local coffee shop and less than a block away from a pub. All night, drunk Irish lads spilled into the road, shouting their obscenities with their syrupy accents. Wanda did not entirely mind this; it was good to hear an accent that wasn't her own or the flat, drawl of American.

"It's going to rain tomorrow," Natasha said. She kicked her feet onto the desk in the bedroom they shared.

"It rains every day," Wanda said. "I am beginning to think Clint and Scott had the right idea staying behind."

"Clint and Scott had a reason to stay," Natasha said. "We are," she said, considering her choice of words very carefully, "different."

A restlessness struck Wanda. She said, "I'm going for some chips. Want anything?"

Natasha cracked open a Murphy's. "I'm good," she said. "Ask the boys if they want anything. And remember, keep a low profile."

There was a locally famous chippy just up the road, tucked between the university and the lough. Wanda turned the other way, winding down past St. Finbarr's Cathedral and towards the river. They had been in the city about a month now, and would be moving soon. Wanda could feel it in her bones and see it in Steve's posture.

"This is only temporary," Steve had said when they arrived. Wanda understood this to mean that they were not really safe anywhere, which meant they would live everywhere. Still, Wanda had inadvertently learned the layout of the city. She knew the old fort that stood watch on the south side, the unstable suspension bridge that ran through the park, and the open-late American-style diner in the city center. She knew this place because she had to know something.

"This is not your home," Wanda reminded herself.

She crossed the river and walked up the Grand Parade. Down an alleyway there was an old church that had been unconsecrated and turned into a performance space. The thought that something like holiness could be undone baffled Wanda, but she nevertheless found comfort in the theatre. It showed the best old movies – Our Girl Friday, Singin' in the Rain, Indiscrete.

She slid onto one of the old wooden pews and tried to watch the second half of Casablanca, but couldn't stomach a film that was so much about leaving. She attempted to flee before Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman made it to the airport, but something stopped her: a familiar shape loomed at the end of the isle.

Wanda found Ireland a generally unpleasant country, but it was a good place to mourn. If the cold didn't make you numb, the drink would. And Wanda did have reason to mourn: after she had lost her brother, she found a family with the Avengers. Now, she had lost that too. Her home, the first one she had chosen for herself, had vanished out from under her.

He vanished too – phased right out of sight at the end of the isle. "Vision?" Wanda whispered.

An elderly Irish couple spat a few unfriendly words before encouraging Wanda to sit yer arse down or get out. She wandered back out onto the damp street and stared down the alleyway. She had seen him, hadn't she?

A few cars sloshed by, and in between them came Vision's voice. He said, "Wanda."

She turned slowly, in case she was wrong, so she could preserve the illusion as long as possible. Vision stood an arm's length away, radiating his awkward charm and unshakable dignity. The red and blue of him looked out of place in the grey-brown city.

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asked. The question came out more malicious than she had intended, and she felt the energy within her pulse and fizzle at her fingertips. The last time she had seen Vision, she was wearing a shock collar and being whisked off to a nightmare driftwood prison. They had apologized to each other for events that lead to that moment, and had meant it, but Wanda could not entirely forget that they had been on different sides. They might still be now.

"I'm not – I didn't come here to take you to prison," Vision said.

"Did Stark send you?"

"No one sent me," Vision said. "I just missed you."

"You did?" Wanda asked. The buzz of scarlet light at her fingertips dissipated.

"I've never missed anyone before," Vision said. "I never had anyone to miss. Which is not to say that I expect you to return the feeling, I just thought…"

"It's okay, Vis," Wanda said. "I missed you too."

A few passersby stopped at the edge of the alley, pointing and talking in whispers. Camera phones were coming out. "We should go somewhere else," Wanda said, "You don't really blend."

They found a shadowy corner in a nearby park; the parks were locked at night, but they had their own ways of getting into places. They sat side by side on a bench near a dark little pond, and Wanda stared at the water as she fumbled with her thoughts. What do you say to someone who found you when you thought you were be unfindable? Who crossed an ocean just to sit by you in the dark?

She said, "How have things been, since…"

"Different," Vision said. "Quiet. Colonel Rhodes and I are the only ones at the compound most days. I never knew the power of an empty room before now."

Wanda thought of her room: her guitar, her bed, her TV. They were not special items, but they had been hers.

"And you?" Vision asked. "How have you been?"

"Alright," Wanda said. "I have lived worse places."

"At least you are not alone," Vision said.

"True," Wanda said. Steve took good care of their little team – they had food, a place to rest, a plan for tomorrow. Natasha was clever; she kept tabs on everything and knew just how to keep them safe. And Sam was good company, always distracting everyone with a story or a joke. "I don't think any of them really know me," Wanda said.

"Give them time," Vision said.

"Time. Time is what scares me. I'm a criminal again, and I might be one forever. We might move from city to city for the rest of our lives."

Vision placed his hand on Wanda's and looked at her in his very serious but sincere way. "You'll find your place in the world, and when you do, you'll be marvelous."

Wanda couldn't help but smile. She said, "I don't know if I believe you, but thank you."

Vision smiled, too, then looked up at the sky. There was too much light pollution to really see the stars, though maybe Vision could see them. He said, "Mr. Stark and I went to the Raft after your breakout. There were security tapes from before. I saw you there. I'm glad you got out. And there's something else. I – I'm sorry I wasn't the one who got you out."

A gust of cool night air tore through the park. Wanda had been gone from the apartment too long; the others would be worried. She stood and tried to rub the cold out of her arms.

"You have to go," Vision said.

"I wish I didn't," Wanda said. "Vision, I think you're my only real friend."

He stood, and smiled in his charming way – when he did that, it very easy to forget there was any part of him that was not flesh and blood. He held out his arms. "I believe a hug is a customary way to part."

Wanda curled into his embrace. He was warm. She said, "We will be leaving this city soon. Will you find me again?"

"Would you like that?" he asked.

"I would."