Chapter Eleven

Armagh, Northern Ireland

WANDA

Wanda woke up when the springtime light filtered in through the window. She sighed and rolled over, expecting to find Vision smiling at her as he always did, but his eyes were closed. "Vis?" she said. When he did not immediately answer, her heart climbed into her throat. "Vision!"

His eyes flew open. He asked, "What's wrong?"

Wanda took a deep breath. "You just startled me," she said. "Were you sleeping?"

Vision looked around the sunlit room in mild confusion. "I suppose I was."

"I didn't think you did that."

"Last night, I was wondering what it was like to sleep and dream," he said. "I guess I wondered myself right into it."

"Did you dream?"

"I think I did. I can't really remember. There's just a feeling left. An essence. It's odd, not entirely remembering something." He considered this for a moment. "I think it was a very strange dream. There might have been a talking duck? Wearing a tie?"

Wanda laughed then wedged her head under Vision's chin, so he couldn't see her face. Happiness is such a tenuous thing; Wanda could not feel entirely comfortable with it. She knew that if she let her guard down for a moment, all of these lovely moments would shatter into a million pieces.

Her team had not captured the final Militia General in Morocco. They had engaged her in a firefight that ended in the destruction of a building and the injury of several Militia foot soldiers, two civilians, and Natasha, who insisted she would "walk it off" and then did. Still, the incident had been bombastic and nearly tragic, and it called Vision away from Tenerife. This was just another reminder that happiness was not something you could hold.

Standing on a dock in Tenerife, Wanda had said, "We should have been there."

"Perhaps," Vision said. "But then we wouldn't have been here."

The team followed the General to Belfast, back to the same island where they had begun their exile. Now they were in the north, with its trepidatious history and quiet sense of division.

Desperate for the idea of privacy, Wanda left Belfast to meet Vision in the little city of Armagh, where they had been for the past two days. Vision read about the city from a book in their hotel. "It's said that the city is built on seven hills, like Rome," Vision said. "Why haven't we been to Rome?"

"No one is trying to kill us in Rome, so naturally we haven't been there."

"Naturally," Vision said.

Armagh was the ecclesiastical capital of Northern Ireland. From a certain spot in the city, Wanda could see both St. Patrick's Cathedrals, the Catholic one standing tall with its gray spires and the Church of Ireland one squat and brown and turreted like a castle. They sat on opposite hills, starring across the city at one another like two lovers who chose opposite sides in a fight.

"This place is not just a center for Christianity," Vision said idly over a cup of tea he was not really drinking. "It's religious significance goes back thousands of years. In fact, the city takes its name from the phrase Ard Macha or 'Macha's Height,' after for one of several pagan goddesses of that name."

Wanda smiled. "You know, if you ever give up being an Avenger, you would make a great tour guide."

"I've heard it's good to have a fallback career," Vision said.

"Yeah?" Wanda said. "Tell me, tour guide, what's up there by the Cathedral?"

Vision glanced up a long, cobble-stoned hill. "A garden," he said. They joined hands and climbed the hill, past the cinema, which was showing a new Japanese science-fiction film called Before We Vanish.

At the top of the hill, they wound up a driveway and discovered an open gate situated in a stone wall. Inside was the garden Vision had promised – it had four chambers, each with its own distinct selection of fauna. One section also had a jade statue of a head unraveling, which Wanda rather liked, despite it being a bit frightening.

As they made their way back through the garden, a white cat strode out of a manicured bush and danced around Wanda's feet, begging for attention. She scooped up the cat and felt its purrs reverberate in her chest.

"Sweet kitty," she said, bouncing it gently like a child. "Do you live around here?"

Vision tried to stroke the cat's head, but it hissed and swatted at his hand.

"I don't think she likes me very much," Vision said.

"She just doesn't know you." Wanda said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Wanda caught sight of a figure looming at the garden's entrance. Vision noticed too.

"Natasha," Wanda said. "Come on, I've only been gone for few days."

"I'm not trying to crash your party," Natasha said. "I'm here to warn you."

"Warn us of what?" Vision asked.

The cat began to squirm and Wanda released her. She sauntered back into the underbrush.

"We think the General is coming here, and she's not going to be alone. This could turn into a real firefight. Worse than Cincinnati and Morocco."

"Why here?" Vision asked.

Natasha, who rarely beat around any bush, hesitated.

"Nat."

"We think it's because the General figured out that you're here, Wanda. She seems to hate you the most. Though I'm sure she'll gladly take a crack at Vision while she's here."

"Of course," Wanda said. "What do we do?"

The best thing they could do was get out of the city in order to draw the fighting away. They could run, too – leave Ireland and each other behind – but Wanda was tired of running, and she knew the best chance they had of stopping this final General was to fight her here.

"Vis," Wanda asked, knowing he had already memorized all the maps, "Where is the best place for a fight?"