Chapter 7: Evolving

A/N: Hey everyone, and thank you for your support and wonderful feedback! Just a quick note to let you know that the next few chapters will be a bit delayed. Anyway, hope y'all like the chapter. Per usual, this fic has been beta'd by your brosef and mine, crotchety_old_emu on AO3.

The first few nights in the Casablanca apartment pass uneventfully. It allots Vision time to process the massive influx of information he's amassed over the past week. In particular, his conversation with Steve rings through his mind, echoing over his thoughts.

On the morning they left Wakanda, Steve arrived at the lab after sunrise, a cup of coffee steaming in his hands. He walked over to Vision, still sitting in the same seat at Wanda's bedside that he'd occupied all night, and laid his hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything, only stood with him in silence.

At some point, Steve pats him once on the back and motions for Vision to follow him. They sit at a bench by the window, close enough that he can continue monitoring Wanda. Steve keeps his voice low when he leans in and starts talking. "You did good back there on the Raft. It would have been a lot harder goin in there for everyone alone."

"Thank you, Captain. Though, I'm sure you would have managed to find a way, regardless."

"I'm glad I didn't have to." Steve gives him a slight grin and nods toward the center of the room. "How's she doin? I got an alert from Shuri that said she woke up last night."

"She did, briefly. Shuri indicated that she should be well enough to travel today..."

"But?"

"She advised me that Wanda may require additional care, for her 'mind and spirit.'"

"That bad, eh?" Steve sighs, shaking his head. "We'll keep an eye on her. She's gonna be okay."

"How can you be sure?" Vision isn't even sure. He spent several hours researching psychology, how trauma can affect the psyche, and how it can rewire human brains, so to speak. It had left him feeling less than optimistic about her prognosis, about his own ability to do anything about it without the proper medical training.

"Vision, this isn't my first time liberating prisoners. And I know Wanda. You know Wanda. She's strong, maybe stronger than any of us. It's not going to be easy, but the stuff that's worth it rarely is." Vision nods, knowing Steve to be right. It doesn't fully assuage his fears, but he does feel a bit lighter. "What about you? You okay?"

"Oh, yes. All of my systems are running at peak efficiency." It isn't a lie, technically.

"Funny. You know that's not what I meant, though."

"Isn't it?" He raises his hand, phases it to near invisibility, and then back. "I'm not what you are, Steve." He never has been and never will be. Vision's known it since his inception. It never felt like as much of a hindrance as it does now, though.

"No, you aren't. But you aren't the same person you were two years ago, either. You've changed, grown. You're evolving. And I've seen the way you look at her. You don't have to be a human to help, you just gotta be there."

He ponders the assessment. He trusts Cap, knows he's infallibly honest, and sincerely cares for Wanda and his fellow teammates. Steve wouldn't lead him astray, not at the risk of endangering their teammates. But still, the Vision wonders; could it be so simple?

Vision's considering Captain Rogers' words, turning them over in his mind again, when he's suddenly interrupted. A scarlet glow seeps into the corners of his vision, and the room around him goes white. He's still in the dark living room of the apartment. He can feel the hardwood floors beneath him shifting with his movements. But the image of the room that's thrust into his mind looks and feels so real. A replica of a place he hates more than he knew he could. It takes a few seconds for him to register that he hasn't actually gone anywhere.

It's Wanda's cell on the Raft. She looks as frail as she did when he first found her. However, she's curled up on the small bed, turned away from him rather than on the floor. He can't see her face; all he hears is the muffled sound of sobbing.

Vision goes to take a step forward, reaching out, only to find himself met with another location. It's not dissimilar to her cell in its aesthetic, drab and sparsely furnished. Wanda is sitting across from Secretary Ross, staring the man down with a twisted smile. She looks heaps healthier than she did in the cell, and far more dangerous. The way she'd looked when she was first handcuffed in Leipzig all those weeks ago.

The scarlet in the edges of his vision flares and crackles. A spark, if it could be called one, smarts against his palm, and he realizes their telepathic bond is, somehow, showing him her dreams. He should say something, try to alert her to his presence in her mind. But he can't bring himself to speak, too awestruck by the sheer impossibility of it all. So, he watches, frozen, as Ross breaks the silence with an unnatural laugh.

"Okay, Miss Maximoff. Have it your way, then. I tried to make this easy for you. You've been given every opportunity to tell us where Rogers and the Winter Soldier are. Remember, you chose this." Ross raises his hand, and a group of guards emerges through the door. With the straight jacket and collar on her, it doesn't take much to subdue Wanda where she sits. They're followed closely by someone in theatre blues who unceremoniously pulls a syringe from their pocket and injects her with its contents.

Again, the scarlet framed scene shifts and Wanda's cell comes into view once more. This time, though, she isn't alone. One of the guards is in her cell, standing over the side of the bed, his back to Vision. The guard looks up into the camera in the corner of the room, gesturing something, and the steady red light above the lens goes dark.

Vision watches with growing alarm as the guard fiddles with something out of his sight. As the dream unfolds before him, the trepidation morphs, blossoming into a profound, consummate rage. He can't stop himself. Before he has the chance to evaluate what he's doing, he's booming, "ENOUGH!" into the cell- and the living room of the apartment.

"So, let me make sure I'm getting this right, you're telling me that you guys can read each other's minds?" Scott's eyebrows shoot up to meet his hairline in wonder. "That's awesome!"

Awesome isn't quite how Wanda would describe it. She'd only slept for a few hours before she, and everyone else in the apartment, woke to someone shouting. She was having a nightmare before she woke up, she thinks. But in the time it takes to get out of bed and see what's going on, the specifics are already fading into nothing more than a vague, sinking feeling.

She's not surprised to see the rest of their motley crew beat her to the living room. She is shocked, though, to find out that it was Vision who yelled. That they'd activated their telepathic link again, somehow. That his exclamation was in response to whatever he'd heard through it.

"It's definitely somethin." The way Steve says it makes her think she's missing something. The way his eyes almost sparkle when he aims a pointed look at Vision confirms it.

Regardless, Wanda knows one thing for sure. "We're not reading each other's minds."

'We aren't? I thought...'

"No, Vision, we aren't. It doesn't matter what you thought." She can hear the anger starting to bubble up into her voice. It's irrational and probably misplaced. The result of constant exhaustion, of having zero control in her life, in this situation. She keeps going anyway. "I've read hundreds of people. This, this is not that. This is not awesome. Actually, none of this is awesome. And-"

"Vision didn't say anything." Natasha cuts her off, slightly canting her neck, making no attempt to mask the inquisitive glint in her gaze. Wanda turns to where she stands against the wall and notices the bright red glow of her own hands. She's never seen it herself, but Pietro once told her that her eyes sometimes flash red, too. She imagines they must be, now, if the flicker of fear in Nat's expression is any indication.

"Alright, how about you guys give us the room? I think we've established that nobody's in danger. And we all need some sleep if tomorrow's going to go well." Steve leaves no room for argument, and the rest of the team clears out, going back to their respective sleeping arrangements.

Wanda acquiesces at his gesture to sit opposite him and Vision on the couch before Steve picks up where they left off. "Okay. So, if you aren't readin each other's minds, then what is happening? Because if Vision is hearin voices, then we may be compromised, and that would mean we have to move, now."

"He's not," Wanda stops herself. For the past week, she's felt as if everyone's constantly talking around her; like she isn't there. In a way, she's allowed it. She knows it and hates it. And she won't do it to someone else.

She looks to Vision and starts again, "You're not hearing voices. It was me you heard, and I did, I do hear you. But it's not mind reading. When I read someone… It's like I can sense their fears, their hopes, their pain. All the little things that make up who they are. Sometimes I can read their thoughts the way I hear yours, but no one's ever been able to hear mine back. I don't know what's happening, or why we can hear each other, or why it's only the two of us. It's just- It's not the same."

"What would you like to call it then?" Steve asks and then, presumably, thinks better of it. "Actually, nevermind, you two can work that out yourselves tomorrow."

It hasn't escaped Wanda's notice that Vision has been silent, at least outwardly, for most of the conversation. But at this, he perks up slightly, "Tomorrow? I'm meant to accompany Clint and Scott back to the U.S."

'You're leaving?' She doesn't mean for him to hear it, isn't trying to project anything.

But, he must hear it, because he answers her out loud. "Only to bring them. I'll be returning with the quinjet."

Steve looks between them, "Nat or I can go instead. I need you two to focus on workin out whatever this is. Even if you aren't reading each other's minds, you're still, evidently, talkin in some way. We need to take every advantage we can right now. Being able to communicate through an undetectable, secure channel could make the difference between life and death. That's an ace in the hole we can't afford to lose."

Wanda can't deny the Captain's words. She doesn't like it, though. It reminds her of Von Strucker, of the experiments, of the last place she ever lived with her brother. Even so, they can't have made it this far for nothing, she thinks, and grits out a "Fine," before going back to bed.