Chapter 29: Dawn

Tears have obscured the blossoms these many springs,
And now at length they open full before me.

~Murasaki Shikibu, from The Tale of Genji, trans. Edward G. Seidensticker

Vision couldn't remember ever feeling so nervous as he did then, lying on the operating table in Shuri's lab as she prepped him. The process, as Shuri explained it to him, would involve immobilizing his body and causing his skin and skull to phase so the thread-thin vibranium microcomputers that would broadcast her specially designed ionic probes to rewire his neural network could enter his brain. He would be vulnerable, comepletely at Shuri's mercy, though Doctor Strange would be observing the entire procedure closely. Vision trusted Shuri, but he also knew no matter how skilled she was, he might die on this operating table. And even if it worked perfectly, what would he be once it was over? How much of what made him him would come out the other side? Were these the last thoughts he would ever be conscious of thinking?

Besides Shuri and Strange, the others were there too. Wong, T'Challa, and Okoye stood back to observe, and probably in case something went terribly wrong and Vision became hostile after the transference. Wanda lurked behind them, silently pacing, avoiding eye contact.

He hated doing something she was so opposed to. He wasn't sure she would ever forgive him. But he had to go through with this, regardless. Honestly, he wasn't sure why she objected to this plan so strongly. He would think she would be happy at the prospect of having her world's Vision back, the one she'd known for much longer than she'd known him, the one who hadn't nearly wiped out a planet.

He wished she would understand why he had to go through with this. Or even just look at him. If this went wrong, he would choose her face as the last thing he would ever see.

Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone—barely even himself—one of the benefits to undergoing this procedure was that if he could erase his own memories and replace them with those of this world's Vision, then he could stay here, stay in the world where Wanda lived. Whatever was left of him could be near her.

Shuri finished affixing her ionic probe device around his head and positioned her medical life-support suspension device and a vibranium manipulator over him.

"As soon as I begin, you'll be unable to move or speak. Are you ready?"

He took a moment longer to think about his life for possibly the last time. "Almost." He looked at Doctor Strange, standing beside Shuri. "Whatever happens, I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity to be a hero, for giving me some time in your world." He raised his head slightly and looked past him. "Wong, thank you for treating me with decency and respect. I hope you don't consider it too audacious of me to count you as a friend. I haven't had many. Wanda..." He swallowed. What could he say to her? What could he possibly say to even hint at how much she'd meant to him? He couldn't very well thank her for kissing him, for the nights she allowed him to hold her in her bed, for making him feel human. She would surely not want the other humans to know she had, in a moment of weakness, kissed a robot. He could thank her for showing him such complete trust, for choosing him despite knowing his crimes, for spending her time playing chess with him. "Thank you for everything," he said.

She said nothing, but did look at him. The expression on her face was the one he'd seen when he first saw her, the haggard weariness and resignation of someone who'd been through too much. Only now did he realize how much that look had faded during the weeks he'd known her. He hated that he was the reason for its return.

He lay his head back. "I'm ready," he said to Shuri without letting himself wonder if he really was. He would go through with this. He would not let himself back out.

Shuri pressed a button, and he was suddenly paralyzed, unable to even blink. She examined some readings from the life support machine.

"I'm going to phase the vibranium of your skin and skull now. I don't think it will hurt, but it may feel a little strange."

If it did hurt, he would have no way of signaling his pain, he realized. It didn't hurt, but feeling parts of his body phase without his control was one of the most frightening, helpless feelings he'd ever experienced. He might have asked her to stop if he could.

"The microcomputers are going to enter your brain now. You shouldn't feel anything at this stage."

He saw hundreds of thin, silvery threads slide out of the machine above his head. This, as Shuri had explained to him and Doctor Strange earlier, was an advanced version of the machine she'd used to deprogram Bucky Barnes by erasing the connections between the Winter Soldier's trigger words and his conditioning, and to erase the short-term memories of her brother and the Dora Milaje to undue the insanity caused by the mind lice. This was a much more intensive process, involving more brain regions, more sophisticated manipulation, and literally millions of times more neuronal connections.

The room was silent for several minutes as Shuri manipulated a holographic projection to check each strand of microcomputer penetrating his brain, and everyone else watched tensely.

"I'm going to begin the engram transference now. This may hurt. I don't know if you've ever had a headache before, but this may feel like a sudden, intense headache. Then again, it might not. This is beyond anything anyone has ever been through." She took a deep breath. "May we be walking the path of Bast, and may Bast be walking with us," she prayed, then pressed another button.

He wasn't sure if he could describe the sensation as pain or a blaring light inside his brain. For an instant, it blinded his mind, stopping all thought. Then the light began to differentiate. Facts, images, sounds, sensations...

Memories. A tsunami of memories.

At first, it was too jumbled to make sense of anything. Then individual memories began to emerge in a seemingly random order. Training at the Avengers' compound, Wanda and Sam trying to get out of a workout session with increasingly absurd excuses that exasperated Captain Rogers and amused the Black Widow. Saving survivors from a collapsed building after an earthquake. Turning a chess piece in his hand over and over. Seeing the lights of New York City from Avengers' Tower, and then his own face reflected in the window. Logging the additional information that Tony Stark was alive and had returned from Afghanistan. Apprehending terrorist-linked bank robbers in London. Wanda wearing an oversized teeshirt, her hair wild, framed in the light of daybreak at a large window, smiling softly at him. Helping Tony design and build Iron Man suits. Practicing to phase his clothes into different outfits from a mens' wear catalogue. Narrowly escaping being murdered by Ultron by uploading his programming to the web. Holding Wanda's hand as they looked out over Paris from the top floor of the Eiffel Tower...

That memory jarred him. He had another memory of the same view of that same city, except rather than being full of lights and motion the city was dead, pocked with bomb craters and buildings destroyed by Ultrons during the war, choked with sooty snow under a cold gray sky, devoid of life.

The memories began to fall into place, organized chronologically and by order of emotional intensity. The capstone of both was the moment he died, when Wanda, her face contorted in anguish, destroyed the Mind Stone. He told her it was alright. He told her he loved her. And then, in an explosion of pain, his existence ended. Then the ending ended. He opened his eyes. Thanos. Wanda crying out No! Thanos picking him up, digging his fingers into his head. In the second before the excruciating pain drowned out all thought, he analyzed the situation: Wanda was alive. He was alive. He was about to die. They had failed, somehow.

He felt like he was falling, then the operating table beneath him. He knew this room. This was where Shuri tried to remove the Mind Stone. That time she'd been trying to take something out of his head, this time she'd put something new in it.

Shuri was talking to him. He couldn't comprehend what she was saying. He slowly sat up.

Doctor Strange watched him. He recognized him. Vision had never met Doctor Strange, never even heard of him until Bruce Banner told them about him while explaining Thanos's plans for the Infinity Stones. That felt like only a few hours ago. But he knew Doctor Strange. Had known him for weeks.

Wanda...

His eyes found her, still keeping back, but looking at him with apprehension. His beautiful, beloved Wanda. She looked so changed, so worn and sad—because of him, of what he had asked her to do. It simultaneously seemed like mere moments and a lifetime ago. He suddenly understood what he'd just put her through.

It took him several seconds to find his voice. "Wanda."

It was the accent of JARVIS that his vocal aparata produced.

"Vizh?" Her voice was small, shaking.

He pushed off the operating table and flew to her, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as tightly as he dared without hurting her. He wanted to never let her go, never let anything hurt her again.

But that would be impossible. They had a world to save.

Without loosening his arms around her, he looked at the other people in the room. Why had he feared their prejudice if they found out Wanda had feelings for a synthezoid? T'Challa and Shuri had already known, and Wanda wasn't afraid of what anyone thought.

"I have both sets of memories," he said, assuaging their curiosity about the results of the procedure. "I know where to find the Source."