NOTE: I'm posting a day early because tomorrow is a holiday. Happy Mother's Day?

Chapter Five

Saint-Remy-de-Provence, France

WANDA

Vision stood stoically in front of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole. Wanda couldn't help but smile when she saw him, even from behind, and she took a moment to watch him watching the world. When she had sent the single-line text, with only the name of the asylum, from the borrowed cell phone of a stranger, she was not sure Vision would come. And yet, there he was.

"van Gogh painted some of his best works here," Wanda said. "After he cut off his ear."

"I gathered from all the signs," Vision said. "I didn't know you were a fan of impressionism."

"I'm not much of an art fan at all," Wanda admitted. Styles and techniques did not really interest Wanda, though she did find something compelling about van Gogh. He painted such beautiful things, and he did so while he was so sad. Everyone should be so sanguine.

Really, Wanda had chosen this place because it was not far from where Steve and the others were presently holed up, because it was something to see, and because she thought Vision would find it interesting. She took his hand, and together they ambled through the building, admiring the white stone and arched courtyard. Vision recited facts about van Gogh and the estate from the plaques they passed; he never needed to stop to read them – a glance was enough to take in the information.

"He painted around 150 canvases in his year here," Vision said. And, "Saint-Paul was built first as a monastery in the eleventh century."

Outside, a would-be field of lavender sat brown and dormant. Wanda wished they had come here in the summer. van Gogh had painted the lavender.

"I'm surprised you stayed in France," Vision said.

Wanda turned from the garden to the field beyond, which was peppered with Cyprus trees. It was probably not a good idea to tell Vision everything that Steve and the others had been doing. They were, after all, criminals, and Vision did report to Stark and Rhodes, who reported by way of a tangled chain of command to the U.N. Still, Wanda felt like she could tell Vision anything.

"Steve wants something here in France," Wanda said. "The documents he took in London lead us here. Well, to Paris, really, but we can't go back there anytime soon."

Vision inclined his head. For his profoundness and quiet intelligence, he was not especially good at hiding what he was thinking.

"I don't know what Steve is looking for," Wanda said. "I don't ask a lot of questions."

"You don't want to know?" Vision asked.

"I'm just along for the ride," Wanda said. Staying with the others was better than being locked in a cell. It was better than being entirely alone. Plus, if they needed her, she was there. They didn't need her very often. They were always a little bit afraid Wanda would make a mistake. Like Lagos. She was afraid too.

When she had returned to their private room at the Paris hostel and said they had to go, the question was, what happened? Wanda knew that really meant, what did you do?

"A man outside Notre Dame recognized me," Wanda said. "He tried to shoot me."

"It's already on the news," Natasha said, fingers dancing across the screen of her phone.

They always kept their bags packed for moments like these. Their jet was parked in a rarely traversed section of the Seine. When Steve jumped down onto the invisible aircraft, he looked like he was walking on water.

They were in Saint-Remy-de-Provence before Rhodes arrived in the county.

"The news says you were with someone," Natasha said. Wanda didn't like her accusatory tone.

"It was just me," Wanda said.

"You have to keep a lower profile," Natasha said. "No more wandering off."

Two days later, on a grocery run, Wanda struck up a conversation with a cashier who spoke some English. She asked to use her phone to send a text.

"Oui," the cashier said. Then, "Is not porn, right?"

Wanda and Vision walked over the uneven field towards a Roman ruin. Wanda pulled on Vision's arm. "Watch out. You're stepping on the snails." Hundreds of them clung to blades of yellow grass. They were like pearls, or flower buds.

Wanda ran her hand around the ruin. She said, "Here's Rome in France, and an asylum that is a museum."

"And here's you, worried about hurting snails," Vision said. He looked at her in a way that no one had ever looked at her before. Here, in all this unusual beauty, he was staring right at her. And she was staring at him.

Wanda said, "Vis, I'm going to kiss you again."

"I would like that," he said.

Wanda's previous experience with kissing was mostly comprised of dark bars. Her later teenage years were smattered with invasive kisses from sloppy drunks a little older than her, men with hungry eyes and wandering hands. When she was young and reckless, she thought this was fun. As she got a little older, she found it more and more revolting. Where were the sweet kisses of television sitcoms and the sweeping romances of the silver screen?

When Wanda and her brother found their way to the remnant of Hydra where they underwent experimentation, what might have graciously been called Wanda's love life dried up completely. Some of the technicians in that place also had hungry eyes and ill intentions – Wanda looked into their heads and knew – but not one was foolish enough to act on their baser thoughts. Wanda was too dangerous. Still, she knew.

In New York state, after Wanda's grief had mostly subsided, she very briefly tried internet dating. She quickly found out the only reason men were interested in her was because they wanted to date an Avenger. "It's really hot, you know," one texted, "Can you get me Iron Man's autograph?"

After that, Wanda tabled romance. There was enough happening in her world without it. Training sessions. Team dinners. TV. Learning guitar. Saving the world. Or, trying not to break it.

Yet, when she stopped looking for romance, it crept up on her. That's how life usually works – you can only find something if you aren't looking.

When she did look, like glancing up from reading a book on a train and finding the landscape had changed, there was Vision. Awkward and charming, naive and wise, as new to the team as her, and genuinely kind. He wandered through her wall and told her she would be okay. Without hesitation, he said he would defend her if the world turned on her. They inadvertently and unsuspectingly became inseparable. And then they were separated. And now, kissing Vision was felt like a movie. He was sweet, tender. There was desire there, too, but it was curbed with patience.

"Is this a bad idea?" Vision asked. "This – whatever we're doing."

"Does it feel wrong?" Wanda asked.

"No," Vision said.

Jagged mountains stood over a quiet road. A snail had made its way onto Wanda's shoe.

Of course what they were doing was a bad idea, but Wanda didn't want it to end. Anyway, most of what Wanda had done in her life had been bad ideas. Hydra. Ultron. Not signing the Accords. Of all the bad ideas, this one felt the most right.

"You got here very quickly after I texted you," Wanda said.

"I never left France," Vision said. "Officially, I'm here looking for you."

"And unofficially?"

"I'm here looking for you."

Wanda smiled. She said, "There's a café down the road. I know you don't eat, but I do, and I'm starving."

WVWVWVWVWVW

VISION

They sat on the patio and Vision ordered a glass of wine, just to have something in front of him. When Wanda briefly excused herself to the bathroom, he found himself staring at his glass. Remembering he was meant to blend in as a human, he attempted to imitate one. He followed the birds with his eyes. He pulled out his phone and looked at it. There were no messages, but the gesture felt authentic. He became distracted for the sake of distraction, just as a human would, and then, just as a human would, he was startled when someone besides Wanda sat down next to him.

"Look," Natasha said in her level but intimidating way. "I don't know who you are…"

"You don't?"

"…or what you're doing with Wanda, but I swear if you're one of them, and you think you can get to all of us through her – well, let's just say, I have ways of making men disappear."

"I beg your pardon?" Vision said. "I mean Wanda no harm."

"You were in Paris when they came for her," Natasha said. She leaned forward and Vision felt the gentle prick of a knife against his leg. "You—"

"Nat," Wanda said. "What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same question," Natasha said. "I know you've been sneaking around."

"If I may," Vision said.

"You be quiet," Natasha said.

"Leave him alone," Wanda growled.

"He might be one of them."

"He's not," Wanda said.

"Then who is he?"

"He's my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Vision stuttered.

"When did you have time to find a boyfriend?" Natasha asked. "Lay low, that's all you had to do. Don't mingle with random people."

"He's not random."

"Boyfriend," Vision repeated.

"No, we'll talk about that later," Wanda said.

"I want to talk about it now," Natasha said.

"So do I," Vision chimed.

"How do you know this guy is trustworthy?" Natasha asked.

"He is," Wanda said, fingers sparking.

"Does he know who you are?"

Through this, Vision noticed a man across the street walking very purposely in their direction. He had a disturbed look about him. To the extent Vision could be unsettled, he was.

"Monstres," the man whispered. A steak knife glinted in his hand.

"Wanda!" Vision shouted. She looked up in time to stop the knife mid-air. With her power, she flung it to the ground.

"Les monstres doivent mourir," the man said, and then he repeated it again as he produced another knife from his pocket.

Natasha flipped the bistro table and ducked behind it. The second knife, apparently meant for her, clanged off the table. A waitress who had chosen a poor moment to emerge with Wanda's stew let out a scream and shattered the bowl on the pavement before retreating into the restaurant.

"How many knives does that guy have in his pocket?" Natasha growled.

"Let's not find out," Vision suggested.

"I'll handle this," Wanda said. With the twirl of one hand, she ripped a rod from a nearby wrought-iron fence, while she held the man at bay with the other. The man's hands folded behind his back, and the rod wrapped like a figure-eight around his wrists. The man growled and spat and repeated his mantra again and again.

Monsters must die.

Bystanders who dared to poke their heads from doorways witnessed all of this. The braver ones pulled out their phones and began to record. Their pleasant afternoon was terminally disrupted.

"Now you've done it," Natasha said, pulling Wanda away by the arm. Vision followed close behind as they wrapped their way into a blind alley, where Natasha turned suddenly on him. She shoved Vision against the wall and dug her elbow into his shoulder. Her knife hoovered at his throat.

"Did you lead them here?" Natasha shouted.

"Don't," Wanda snarled. She twisted up a ball of energy in her hands and glared.

Natasha stared at Wanda with something like annoyance.

"Everyone, stop, please," Vision said. The simple fact was that he could very easily overpower Natasha, and that her best attempt to cut his throat would leave only a scratch – but Vision hated to be the source of such ire. His anonymity was not worth causing strife between friends. He revealed himself.

"Oh," Natasha said, relaxing. She looked at Wanda. "Oh."

"You two need to go," Vision said. "I'll stay and take care of this."

"Vis," Wanda said.

"I know." Their time was cut short again. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead. Not a goodbye, Vision thought, just another pause in their story.

Natasha stared at them, her mouth still pursed in the shape of oh. She shook herself from the surprise and tapped on Wanda's shoulder. "I hate to interrupt but –"

"Yeah," Wanda said. "We need to go."