Stark is angry with him.

Stark believes he hides this well, or perhap that Vision will be content to take his word for it when he says he's 'cool'.

Stark is mistaken. Vision can feel the man's disapproval radiating from him and he must admit, it pains him.

In hindsight he should have expected this. His full reasoning is in truth far more complicated, but a part of Vision knows this very reaction is why, until now, he has not wanted to risk disclosure. Perhaps that makes him a coward. He'd rather put his faith in Colonel Rhodes's assessment that he'd just had everyone's best interests at heart by keeping his indiscretions to himself. That he wished to spare others pain.

Colonel Rhodes is generous in that way. If Vision is honest with himself, he knows what he does is for entirely selfish reasons.

He has abused Stark's trust in him. That is something the man will have trouble forgiving, even if the misdemeanor itself could be otherwise overlooked.

Stark never did ask him where he would go.

There is some turbulence as they draw near their destination, although with some small adjustments Stark is quick to find a smoother flight path. The jet soon coasts quietly once more, the interior darkening as they enter a bank of slate grey cloud. The weather outside certainly reflects the atmosphere within, even if it no longer buffets them to and fro.

In deliberate contrast to their previous voyage, Loki has chosen to remain standing for this trip. Vision had expected him to want to take in the view as they travelled, but it seems he has been quick to pick up on the unspoken friction between his two escorts. He has said nothing aloud to either Vision or Stark, but his appraising gaze has slid between the two of them throughout their journey. Vision isn't certain if the wide berth he seems to be giving Stark is intentional or coincidental, but Loki hasn't otherwise shied from making his interest in the situation known.

He stands now, quiet, one hand bracing against and movement of the craft using one of the handholds above him, his eyes studying Vision where he stands opposite. Vision offers him a wan smile, though his heart's not really in it.

Loki takes this as an invitation to speak. "You go to much trouble for me," he says, his words for Vision alone. His voice is pitched low enough that Stark will be unlikely to overhear, but it is no more than that; he is not deliberately seeking to evade Stark's notice.

They have not outlined the situation to Loki fully, partly out of respect for Stark's aversion to the topic, and of course he has no real need to know of the specifics. But if they thought Loki would remain ignorant of the tension they are clearly mistaken.

"I intend to do everything in my power to help you," Vision tells him honestly, and Loki tilts his head to one side.

"Even though it sows discord?"

"Yes. Even then."

"You are a most curious jailor," Loki says after a beat, not unkindly.

It still disappoints Vision to hear Loki speak of him like this, though he has patience yet. He suspects Loki does it more to garner a reaction than for any real belief in the team's dark intentions. Vision leaves the label unchallenged and asks a question of his own.

"You do not expect that anyone would offer you help freely. Why is that?"

Loki averts his eyes, his tone changing. "I have been given little cause to trust in the inherent goodness of those around me. And if what I have gleaned is to be believed, I have small reason to expect largesse."

"You do not believe you are deserving of help?"

Loki looks at him sidelong but is otherwise silent.

There is a fine line they have all had to tread here, one Vision regrets he may not be balancing as well as he would like. He wishes it were as simple as assuring Loki to the contrary. Not when every move they make must be tempered with pragmatism and poorly disguised caution.

Loki knows they do not trust him, not fully.

Vision recalls an instance from last night's conversation which, on reflection, has done little to disabuse Loki of this notion.

Having spent several days preparing, they had finally discussed who would travel today, and who would stay behind. Were it up to Vision, he alone would have accompanied Loki to the rendezvous. He hadn't deluded himself that such a thing would be allowed.

"Oh, I'm going with you. We'll take the jet. We can travel in style, and bring FRIDAY along for the ride, obviously."

Loki's smile had been sharp. "Still don't trust me, Stark?"

"See, that's how I know you're not faking it. You wouldn't need to ask such a dumb question otherwise."

What Stark did not say was that these precautions are just as much for Loki's protection as their own. That with the jet, they have a better chance of avoiding prying eyes. Of effecting a quick getaway if needed. Of having tech on hand if anything were to go wrong with what they have planned.

Loki is perceptive enough to infer this, but that does not mean their mistrust vexes him any less. Vision has also come to realise that Loki has a tendency to take to heart words that others do not necessarily intend as weapons, yet is skilled at concealing the effect.

Stark's comments about expecting 'best behaviour' probably hadn't helped in that regard, either.

Vision allows his gaze to wander for a moment as he considers his next words.

In the end, Colonel Rhodes had elected to remain behind. Enough baggage on the plane already, he'd said. Vision knows the man would not begrudge the use of his example, even if it's not something Vision would be impolite enough to discuss in his presence.

"You have never asked how Colonel Rhodes came by his injuries."

Loki's full attention is swift to return. "Injuries?" A note of wry humour enters his voice. "Ah. You mean to his legs. I had begun to assume it commonplace to enhance one's performance by mechanical means."

Vision isn't sure that he believes this statement, but he does not say so. "The braces enable him to walk. But he has not always needed them."

An edge of suspicion creeps into Loki's words, his body turning slightly in an unconscious tell of discomfort. "Hmm. Now I am almost afraid to know. Nothing of my doing, I would hope."

The joke may be weak, but Vision is glad of it anyway. The sad smile he summons stretches the pause into significance. "I too have much to atone for," Vision confides solemnly, and Loki seems to need no more explanation than that.

Loki looks away, seemingly turning this new information over in his mind, and when he meets Vision's eyes again it is with new understanding and a welcome change of topic.

"You really think this friend of yours can do something?"

"She is a most remarkable young woman. If anyone can help us, I believe she can."

"And if she can't?"

Vision smiles. "Then we are no worse off than we were before."

Loki glances towards Stark's back, silhouetted as it is against the tumultuous sky. "Are you quite sure about that?" he says.

"We're here," Stark calls from the front of the jet, and Vision shares a resigned look with Loki before they begin to touch down.

o0o

Gusts of wind are driving the rain hard when the ramp lowers, though FRIDAY has taken care to angle the jet so that they are sheltered from the worst of it. Far from making a dash for cover when they venture out, Vision finds himself required to hang back in the deluge.

Loki stands out in it, quickly becoming soaked to the skin, his face turned up to the pelting cold. When he lowers his head and opens his eyes again to look at Vision, there is something like relief in his expression.

"I'm drowning here," Stark interrupts gruffly, but not before Loki's had this small, reclaimed moment. "C'mon."

Stark jogs ahead to cross the small clearing in which they've landed, head down against the weather and arms wrapped around his body. Loki and then Vision follow him more slowly, the former in no particular hurry to escape the open space and the relative freedom it affords. The trees around them sway and creak in the wind, their boughs thick and heavy, the lake they surround visible through a break in otherwise dense forest.

The porch to the cabin shelters a bench and table, a stack of well-seasoned firewood and a threadbare hammock that has seen better days. Stark stamps his feet on the mat at the threshold and scrubs water from his hair before opening the door and going inside. He doesn't bother to knock.

With an upturned hand, Vision gestures Loki ahead of him and follows.

The interior glows warmly from the light of a fire already crackling in the hearth. The scent of wood smoke and pine lends the place a nostalgic quality that is complemented well by homely furnishings, rugs and wall hangings.

And rising to stand from the small couch opposite is Wanda, her hands intertwined before her, apprehension in her bearing that she tries hard to hide.

"Wanda," Stark acknowledges her simply with a nod of his head. He moves no further into the room, and Vision pulls the door closed behind them all.

"Stark," Wanda returns evenly with a slight lift of her chin. Her eyes skip to Vision's and she offers him a tentative smile.

Vision wants nothing more than to move to her side and offer her the support she will not ask for, but he knows this would be a mistake. Instead he inclines his head to her, and with that small connection she seems to steady her resolve.

"Wanda, this is Loki," Vision says by way of introduction, and she turns a small but open smile on the man at Vision's side.

She steps forward, mindful of Stark in her periphery but determined to be friendly, and extends a polite hand towards the Asgardian. "Hi," she says, projecting more confidence than Vision knows she really feels into her voice.

Loki accepts her hand in his and lifts it, bowing his head slightly to press his lips to her knuckles. "A pleasure," he says as he releases her, and Wanda's eyes widen just slightly.

"Oh," she says, surprised, and flashes Vision a look of pleased embarrassment.

"Figures," Stark mutters under his breath at their shoulders, then, more loudly: "Anything to drink in this joint?"

Momentarily flustered by this, Wanda stutters. "Um, coffee? I think? In the, uh…"

"Kitchen. Got it." Stark moves past them all to the cabin's adjoining room, the sounds of cupboards being searched and crockery being rattled shortly following his departure. Seemingly unaffected by this exchange, Loki moves further into the sitting room to peer at the books lining one wall, and Wanda takes the opportunity to slide her eyes shut.

Vision rests a hand on her shoulder, and when she looks back up at him he gives it an encouraging squeeze. "Hello," he says to her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hi," she whispers back with a shy smile.

The cabin is one they have come to before, but likely not one they will visit again after today. It is one of the many meeting places they have used these past months. It is remote and private enough to serve their needs today, and has borne witness to many moments Vision holds dear. They are sacrificing much by choosing to meet here now, but the time they have shared within these walls offers some small, familiar comfort.

"Your journey was a pleasant one, I hope?"

"I arrived last night," Wanda says with a nod, turning to open a closet set into the wall by the door. She pulls two towels from the shelving there, handing one to Loki who accepts it with a nod of thanks. The second she leaves draped across the arm of the couch, should it be wanted. She doesn't expand on the subject further than that, both of them mindful of revealing too much of the situation beyond today's arrangement. "I wasn't sure how long we would need, so I brought food."

As though in confirmation, Stark emerges from the kitchen with a bag of chips in hand, the smell of brewing coffee trailing in behind him. He offers the opened end to everyone in the room in turn but doesn't appear the slightest bit perturbed when each mutely shakes their head in response.

"So," he says, popping another chip in his mouth, making a show of looking out of the window as he does so. "How much has Vis explained?"

There is to be little by way of small talk, it would seem. This comes as no surprise. Loki stills by the wall, head tipped to one side as he dries his hair, and that same appraising look he carried in the jet returns.

Visibly steeling herself, Wanda turns to Stark. "He's told me some. Enough to know that you should have called me in before now. And not just me, either."

The short pause that follows is frosty, but Wanda does not back down. Vision feels a surge of pride that he's sure must show on his face.

"Perhaps you'd better start by telling me the rest," she continues. "All of the rest."

o0o

The coffee has been refreshed twice before the story has been told to Wanda's satisfaction. Vision leaves the talking to Stark, having already given Wanda his own account of recent days, and when she has questions she directs these to Loki who answers her with straightforward courtesy. Wanda appears thoroughly charmed by him, which does little to improve Stark's mood. Vision suspects that beyond being genuinely respectful, Loki is well aware of this fact.

"Might I ask you a question," Loki enquires as they approach the end of the tale, and Wanda replies with an easy, "Of course."

Loki takes a moment to consider his words, perhaps anxious not to offend. "Your… abilities. How do you command them?" Picking up on her momentary hesitation, and after a subtle glance to take in the reactions of the others in the room, he adds, "That is, if it's not an indelicate question."

Wanda looks briefly to Vision, and although Stark shifts conspicuously where he perches at the window, whatever she sees in his face prompts her to reply.

"I am not sure I could explain it beyond… intuition? These powers… I was given them. I wasn't born this way. And I am still learning to control them. They are a part of me, and they come from me, but they are also… other. Foreign, I suppose you might say. It takes concentration and discipline to contain or direct them, but without that they are raw. Pure, somehow. But also terrible." She sighs self-consciously. "I'm not sure I'm making much sense."

"Not filling me with confidence here," Stark contributes.

Loki does not turn to look at him, but the words he speaks over his shoulder are forceful. "Let her speak, Stark."

The look Wanda returns is grateful but also apprehensive. "I don't want you to think I would put you in danger," she hurries to add.

"I do not think that you would," Loki replies.

"You should also know," Wanda continues, "there's a chance I may see more than I mean to. Are you comfortable with that? I don't want to invade your privacy."

Vision sees a ghost of indecision that is quickly banished pass across Loki's face. It is what they are here for, after all.

Wanda extends one of her hands between them, threads of scarlet light dancing between her curling fingers. Loki, attention rapt, gazes at it with something akin to longing.

"This," Wanda murmurs, watching the play of energy as it bends and arcs. "It can be beautiful. But also frightening."

Loki breathes in through his nose, his hands moving to close Wanda's fingers over the power she has summoned. It snuffs out, and she raises her eyes to meet his.

"What aid you could give me would be welcome," Loki tells her. "And whatever you might see… it would be like you viewing the thoughts of a stranger. I'm quite accustomed to sharing those, I can assure you."

The sad look Wanda returns at this isn't quite enough to make Loki look away, but Vision thinks he sees pain there nonetheless.

o0o

Wanda insists that they all be comfortable for what she is about to attempt, and to that end furniture is rearranged to suit her needs. She remains seated on the room's only couch, Loki installed opposite in a high back chair that has been brought over from the cabin's only bedroom. The coffee table has been pushed to one side so that their knees almost touch, and both Vision and Stark remain a respectful distance from them both.

Loki leans forward with his forearms on his thighs, and Wanda reaches slowly towards him. With a nod of assent, Wanda accepts his permission and begins.

The tendrils that extend from her fingertips are translucent and subtle, coaxed to play about Loki's temples with only the smallest of movements. Loki's attention remains fixed on Wanda's face as she works, although her eyes remain closed. If he feels any discomfort, any sensation at all, he does not reveal this in any way.

After a time, a small frown forms between Wanda's eyebrows, and with a minute shake of her head she smooths it and pushes on. She gives no other sign beyond that, slipping back into the calm control Vision has witnessed her practise many times before.

Slow minutes tick by. Vision captures Stark's gaze from where he watches at the window, but the man does not comment on the spectacle before him. The rain continues to beat an uneven, rattling cadence against the panes of glass at his back, the only sound in the room beyond the snap of the fire and the breaths of its four occupants.

For all that Stark watches intently, Vision is almost certain the man is unable to read the delicate changes to her face as Wanda concentrates. But to Vision, each deepening crinkle at the corner of her eye, each fleeting frown and each lift of her brow tells a story.

During their many quiet moments together they have shared much, not least of which has been an exploration of Wanda's special gifts - and the source of them, which Vision now carries. They have been careful, their curiosity innocent, tentative and mindful of all they do not yet understand. What drives them to discovery is something unspoken, something shared and nurtured without words to give it form. It is a desire to know their place in the world, to know more of the burdens they carry and, with a most gratifying intimacy, to know more of their innate connection to one another.

That time has lent Vision some insight into the cues that play across Wanda's expressive face. The tightening of her mouth. The lift of one delicate eyebrow. The flare of her nostrils as she chases some ephemeral thread that evades her reach.

When her left hand begins to tremble finely, Vision isn't the only one to notice.

Stark straightens meaningfully where he leans by the window, unfolding and then recrossing his arms in a nervous gesture. He flicks his eyes at Vision to indicate the imminent need for an intervention, but it is Loki who stops proceedings.

A tear slips down Wanda's face and Loki takes her hands gently in his, drawing them away from him. The red tendrils dissipate as he does so and he searches her face, waiting for her to open her eyes. She does so with a shuddering breath but will not meet his eyes, nor the concern and apology she sees there.

"I'm sorry," she says shakily. "I shouldn't have… I didn't mean… I didn't mean to look."

"Perhaps we should stop," Loki offers, and she shakes her head.

"No. I'm okay. I think I can see something. We should keep going."

Loki purses his lips doubtfully at this, but the determination he sees in Wanda's eyes must persuade him to acquiesce. "A short break, then."

Vision thinks she wants to refuse this too, but after a pause Wanda agrees. "Sure."

She accepts the glass of water Vision brings her and sips it thoughtfully as Loki leans back in his chair. He watches her carefully but does not speak, instead waiting for Wanda to offer insight of her own.

Stark feels no such reluctance and breaks the silence in his usual direct manner.

"So, what's the lowdown?" he asks. "Any idea what's causing the problem?"

Wanda considers her answer for a long moment, and when she begins to speak she directs her words not to Stark, but to Loki himself.

"I do not think you have lost anything," she says slowly, verbalising an emerging train of thought. This at least confirms what they have already discovered, but if Loki feels any measure of relief to hear this he does not make it obvious. "There is a lot I don't understand and that makes it hard for me to be sure, but there is no emptiness. There's almost more than I could hope to follow."

"You feel any of that?" Stark interjects again, this time addressing Loki. "Anything get knocked loose while she was, you know, noodling around in there?"

Wanda's face pinches into a slight frown to be described like this.

"I saw nothing," Loki says without censure. "Only… I could feel you there. Your… your presence. But it was faint."

"And what of the cause of Loki's difficulties accessing his memory," Vision asks at last, his own interest getting the better of him. "Were you able to discover anything that might hint at the problem?"

Again Wanda looks to Loki, her words measured carefully as she puzzles out their meaning. "There was something resisting me," she says. "Something separating what I could sense from the rest of your mind. But…"

"What?" Loki asks, wary.

"I'm not sure it's something that's been put there. It feels like… it feels like you."

Loki frowns at this.

"Is it possible," Wanda presses, "that this is your mind's way of protecting itself from something, something you would rather not remember?"

"Are you suggesting that I have done this to myself?" Loki asks, somewhat archly.

"It would not be unheard of," Vision hurries to add, anxious to deflect the affront he can sense rising. "I understand there to be recorded instances of such conditions, usually in response to severe trauma. No one is doubting that what your are experiencing is real, or questioning your word."

Thankfully, the clever remark Vision is half expecting does not materialise from Stark. "And let's face it," the man says instead in support, "I don't think any of us are talking about your garden variety repression. Whatever happened back at base the other day, it was decidedly kooky. The kind of kooky I've only seen a couple of times and from a couple of people."

The fact that those very people are here in the room goes unspoken.

Loki is beginning to look a little disturbed by this possibility, though whether because of the implications or because the topic they have all been skirting around these last few weeks is finally being addressed, Vision is not sure.

Wanda leans forward, her expression gentle. "You already suspected this, didn't you? You feel it the same as I do. Your power, I mean."

Loki looks stricken. He shakes his head minutely. "If I am like you, I do not remember how."

"Then we should keep looking," Wanda says, sharing her confidence where Loki seems to have misplaced his, for the moment at least. "There was a thread I was following and I could feel something beginning to give. I should be able to find it again. Maybe if I just give it a firmer tug it will start to unravel."

Wanda is reaching for him again when Loki's hand shoots out to grasp her wrist, his previous patience seemingly forgotten. She lets out a squeak of surprise, but he has already released her and risen to stand.

"Hey," Stark says with alarm, rising from where he's perched on the windowsill. "Go easy-"

Loki cuts him off with a slash of his hand and points a finger to the ceiling, his eyes widening meaningfully. Stark stiffens, and Vision cocks his head to listen. Rain is still pelting hard, the groan of the wind a constant presence behind it. And then closer than this, the softest of scrapes precedes the creak of a board on the porch outside.

The rest happens quickly.

Loki throws himself across the coffee table and tackles Wanda to the ground as the first canister sails past from the kitchen in a shower of fracturing glass. Vision follows his lead, yanking Stark forcefully away from the window before that too explodes inward. Thick and cloying smoke spews from the two canisters now spinning madly on the floor, swiftly filling the room and obscuring everything from view.

The two humans and the Asgardian begin coughing almost at once, and although Vision knows this is a ploy to force them all into the open, he is left with little choice but to herd the three of the towards an escape. He guides Stark ahead of him and locates the others by touch, pulling them close and urging them to stay in contact with one another. He propels them forward as a group to the corner of the room furthest from the door, and with less precision than he would otherwise prefer, breaches the wall beside the hearth with blunt force.

The log cladding shatters under the force he uses, creating a space large enough to pass through, although he is required to brace the remaining timbers with one arm to prevent the structure from coming down around their ears.

He reaches blindly into the fog and snatches at the first collar he can wrap his hand into, tugging whoever it belongs to forward with an urgent "Go!"

When he is confident three people have spilled out past him he follows them, allowing the wall to collapse on itself at his back. He finds Stark, Wanda and Loki on their knees in the sodden grass, each holding an arm across their mouths and choking for air. The seconds he has bought them by avoiding the obvious exits will count for little if he cannot press the advantage, so he leaves them to recover as best they can and rises soundlessly to assess the situation from above.

It is immediately apparent that their situation is dire. Armed personnel swarm the perimeter, surrounding the quinjet some way distant, and more cover the cabin exits and the treeline at the property's boundary. When they see him they begin to form up, and a team moves to converge on the three incapacitated people at the cabin's other side. He wastes no time turning to warn them, and instead descends to deal with the closest threat.

It soon becomes obvious that their attackers have no intention of engaging Vision directly. Each group he approaches makes way for him or takes evasive action, forcing him to pursue individual targets rather than take on groups that come to him. The men part around him as he does this, heading towards what they know he is trying to protect.

The first man he tackles he hauls backward with ease, flinging him effortlessly through the air back the way he came. The second gives him pause when his hand passes straight through the armoured shoulder he would grasp.

For a moment, Vision assumes he has phased through the man in his haste to capture him, but this cannot be the case. When he looks more closely, he sees that the driving rain passes through the man too, not a drop turned from its path to the ground.

He allows the apparition to pass and scans the field once more, a terrible understanding taking root in his mind. He is unable to judge from this distance which of the figures he sees are real and which are duplicates, but he supposes this matters little. The confusion they inspire will be enough to overwhelm Vision's attempts at defence if he allows them to distract him, so he moves instead to close the distance between where he stands and his friends.

He sees that Loki has risen, having already fought off the worst effects of the gas. A ring of surrounding men take aim with their ranged weapons, but before any of them can fire they are propelled backward by surge of Wanda's power. Two of them wink out of existence, the rest skidding to a stop in the dirt several yards from where they once stood.

She struggles upright to stand, her eyes still streaming, and wreaths herself in dancing colour. "Run!" she commands as she wields it, sending uncoordinated blasts of energy in a defensive pattern around them.

Loki hauls Stark roughly to his feet and yanks the man forward, heading with him for the trees without pausing to look back. Still half-blind himself, Stark brings the gauntlets he has summoned to bear on any movement in their periphery, the repulsor blasts missing their targets by a wide margin but enough to discourage close pursuit.

Vision is moving to cover their retreat when Wanda screams, and he whips around to confront the danger. The ranged weapons the men carry have revealed their purpose, apparently firing small adhesive devices that latch onto the skin. Wanda writhes on the ground, clutching her head, one such device clinging to the fabric of her jacket. She is incapacitated and completely unable to defend herself as a group of men approach, assaulted by some unseen agony, and Vision's response is almost beyond his control.

The beam he releases slams the nearest attacker back, no doubt killing the man as it does so. He barrels into the rest with all his strength, caring not for the damage he inflicts, knocking back those he can and passing through those he can't. It is but a minute's work to dispatch them all, and when he drops the last he feels an unworthy thrum of grim satisfaction.

He drops to his knees at Wanda's side and lifts her, but if she senses his presence she is unable to respond. She cries out and twists in his arms, and though he fears to harm her more he doesn't hesitate to pull the cruel, spider-like mechanism from her flesh. An electric bite of pain travels up his arm as he does so and he flings the thing away. Blood begins to pool from the wound it has left behind.

"Vis?" Wanda asks hoarsely, her body now limp and her breaths gasping in the aftermath of the assault.

"I've got you," he assures her, stroking back her hair, rising to his feet with her cradled in his arms.

It is only then that he looks around them both, the field around them now empty of anything but bodies lying prone. It is with foreboding that he understands the consequences of his choice, and the trap he has willingly walked into.

The attack on Wanda was a diversion. And he has allowed it to work.

o0o

A/N: You didn't really think that was going to be that, did you? ;)

I've had to slow the rate of my updates, but thank you for sticking with the story and continuing to read. Your comments feed my soul 3