"Wake up!"

Steve blinks as Sam grabs him by the shoulders. "What on earth is—"

"Something pretty frickin' weird!" Sam darts out of the room, with Steve on his heels. The hallways blaze with light as people gather around a balcony with a strange imprint on it.

"Thor," Steve breathes.

"Not hardly!" Clint appears, gripping his bow and arrow, jaw set with rage.

Steve's mind leaps several years in the past, to his first real mission after he woke up, when realized he still had a purpose, and he could have friends. To New York. "Loki?"

"We don't know," interrupts a Wakandan woman. "Your friend is gone."

"Natasha," Clint supplies. "She saw her get swept away."

"Swept—what?" Steve blinks.

"By light," the woman puts in. "There was a beam of light, and then she was gone, and this marker was here."

"Maybe Thor wanted to talk to her?" Sam suggests.

The humidity feels cold and slimy against Steve's skin. "Without telling us?"

"All I'm saying is that Natasha's not exactly known for being forthcoming," Sam says, holding his hands in the air.

Clint shakes his head as he examines the strange engravings. "We're like her family. She wouldn't just leave without a word."

"Well, she apparently did," Sam points out.

"There was a man, too," the Wakandan states.

"Who?" Clint asks.

The breeze grabs at him with a cold, skeletal hand. Oh no.

It can't be. It's illogical. And yet, somehow, in the pit of his stomach, Steve knows.

He tears off the balcony and through the hallways. Footsteps clatter behind him—Sam and Clint following him. Skidding to a stop outside the room where Bucky sleeps, Steve hesitates. He already knows what he'll find.

He taps the door open and, even though he knew it, the sight of the case gaping, empty, drains him. "Bucky, where did you go?"

"Oh my God," says Sam.

"What the hell?" yells Clint. "He went with her—where? Why?"

This, Steve doesn't know. He doesn't understand. Rage shoots through him, fueled by fear and the fact that he doesn't like not knowing; he should be better at it but he's not. He clamps his hand to his forehead. "What do we do?"

"Which of us is telling T'Challa?" asks Sam.

"I already phoned him," says the Wakandan woman, holding out the phone. "Captain?"

A word Steve seldom says bubbles up in his throat, but he swallows it as he accepts the phone. "Your highness?"

"What happened?" T'Challa demands.

"I—we have no idea. We found—"

"Yes, I know what Rehema told me. Your friend?"

"Do they have him?" Steve bursts out, pacing back and forth. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sam and Clint watch with impatient eyes. "The UN—Stark. Did he track us?"

"My intelligence does not indicate that. And the markings are Asgardian, aren't they?"

"Well—yeah," Steve acquiesces. "But if Thor returned, it might very well be to the Av—to Stark's tower," he corrects himself.

"And maybe Stark convinced him to—" Sam tries.

"I have no information about that," T'Challa repeats. "I am meeting with Stark in a few hours. Trust me, if he is hiding anything, you will find out soon enough."

"I'm sorry," Steve says.

"Why? I took you and your friend in. All of your friends. We promised to protect them, to cure him. We will do this. I keep my word."

"I know," Steve affirms, his throat dry.

Where did you go? Where did they take you?

"Maybe Miss Romanoff was trying to protect your friend," T'Challa suggests.

"Probably," Steve agrees. If they hurt him—or worse, if they turn him back into the Winter Soldier… how will Bucky be able to cope with that? How many times can he switch back and forth, forth and back, between two identities and still be a whole man?

At this point, Stark and the government might be the best option for Bucky. Except if last time is any indication, the government doesn't keep its gates shut tight enough to keep monsters out.

"Hey," Sam says, taking the phone away. "We're gonna figure this out, Steve. You and me. And Clint."

"Yeah," Clint says. "Did T'Challa say if he was telling Scott or Wanda?"

"Didn't ask. I imagine he would."

"He better not just yet," Clint spits out, doubling over. "Wanda needs to keep her head about her. She doesn't need this distraction. Not when…"

When she's getting my wife and kids.


It feels like a maelstrom raging inside of him, ripping through his body. Light slices all around Bucky, and he has no idea where he's going. Panic flashes in the top of his skull, in the palms of his hands.

And then he hits something solid and everything vanishes, leaving him to gasp and glug in air.

"What in the—"

Oh damn. The agent—Natasha. Bucky cranes his neck to see her getting to her knees, panting. "What was that?"

"I don't know."

Her eyes narrow, as if she knows that's not strictly true.

"Something Asgardian," he offers, sweat sliding down his back, cold and invasive.

"As—what? Thor?"

He shakes his head, but he can't say anything else because fear grabs his tongue and won't let go. He remembers all those years he stood there, the mere seconds when humanity would wash through him and rattle the monster they made him to be, the moments where he wanted to refuse, the briefest times when he would ask a question and receive a shock, or a beating.

But those were the early years.

Afterwards, cold calculation replaced every emotion.

Except for when he saw their faces.

"You were asleep," says Natasha, peering at him, her red curls falling haphazardly down her face. "How would you even—"

"He wanted to talk to me," Bucky cuts in. Dammit, she's going think he's betraying Steve, betraying them all.

He just wants his goddamn mind back.

"You don't think Steve is going to panic when he sees that you're gone?" asks Natasha, leaning back and rubbing her knee, lapsing into a relaxed mode. Bucky's not fooled. He's met women like this before, men too. She's playing, hoping for a catch.

But guilt still gnaws at him. "It's for the best. I've caused him nothing but trouble."

"You think you're not worth it?"

Bucky glances at her and then back at the gray, gray dirt. Where the hell are we?

"Steve doesn't care whether you're broken. He just wants you—"

"I'm doing this for Steve," Bucky interrupts. "To get my mind back. So he can—" He cuts himself off. Natasha cocks her head.

"Oh good, you came," comes a too-prudent voice.

Natasha jerks her head around, and this time she's the one in shock. "What the—you did not—you!"


I trust you. You're the best person for this job, Wanda remembers Clint telling her, hand grasping the back of her neck. You can do this.

"How do I look?" she asks, stepping out and dropping into her seat as the plane prepares to land.

"No one will recognize you," T'Challa says.

"Like the most boring businesswoman I've ever seen," Scott quips.

Wanda smoothes her black slacks and plain white blouse. Her honey-brown tresses are pulled up in a sever bun, and her face is utterly devoid of makeup. Sunglasses rest on the seat next to her. She looks cool and collected, no doubt, but her heart hammers against her ribs.

"It's the last thing they'll expect you in," T'Challa reassures her.

"So I'll have what, an hour or two?" Scott asks.

"More like four," Wanda corrects.

"Your girlfriend says they're waiting for you with Hank Pym," T'Challa reports.

"Who?" Wanda asks, leaning forward.

"She's not my girlfriend," Scott clarifies. "Well, sort of. Maybe. It's complicated."

"I'm confused," says Wanda.

"Never mind." Scott waves his hand.

"If things get difficult—"

"They won't. Hank and Hope are pretty good at taking care of things under the radar."

Wanda hopes Scott's right, for his sake, and for his little girl's sake. From the story she heard, Cassie's already been through a lot, and having her dad on the lam again—this time for far more serious crimes than robbery—can't be easy for her. At least T'Challa managed to send word to the girl's mother and stepfather about what really happened. Wanda doubts they'd be able to doubt a prince's word.

But Cassie sounds tough. Wanda smiles as she remembers herself and Pietro, surviving together. When bullies taunted Wanda for being shy and weird, Pietro took them down. When they beat up Pietro, she set them up so that their teacher finally caught them cheating on exams.

But no child should grow up without a parent they loved. Wanda can still see her mother laughing, a single moment before the bomb dropped. Sometimes, the moments blur together.

And Pietro…

Wanda yanks her mind out of the quagmire. She can't sink in her memories today, torturing herself. Clint believes in her. She can save his family.

By the time they land, Wanda's stomach is twisted in a knot, and she keeps taking nervous sips of water that her stomach keeps trying to reject. She coughs.

"See ya," Scott says as he leaves.

Wanda waits until everyone's gone, and then she exits the plane with the help of T'Challa's security. All of them look up to their prince, and it's not hard for Wanda to see why. He commands respect and yet overflows with compassion.

She remembers the look in Vision's eyes when she sent him into the ground.

She studies her hands, the red glow. Compassion is not her strength.


"Good to see you, your Highness."

"I don't get the impression you enjoy addressing me that way," T'Challa says, watching Tony.

Tony shrugs.

"And how are you?" T'Challa asks Rhodey, who struggles to his feet with a grimace.

Vision turns away. He doesn't feel as if he can listen. His mistakes haunt him, and unlike Tony, he isn't able to drink his memories away.

"And Zemo?" T'Challa asks.

Zemo. Consumed with revenge like… like Wanda admitted she used to be, she and her brother. Except they still retained their consciences.

"Mr. Stark, there's a call from the secretary of state," comes the robotic butler's voice. From where, as Vision understands, his voice used to come from. It's odd to think that his voice isn't really his own.

"Tell him I'm meeting with the king of Wakanda," Tony relies. "It is king now, isn't it?"

"Yes." T'Challa glances out the window, tapping his fingers. Vision frowns.

"Mr. Stark, he's saying it's urgent and it concerns the fugiti—"

"You should get it," T'Challa says quickly.

"Wanda?" asks Vision.

"I'm about to find out. Mr. Secretary? "

"Am I on speaker?"

"What remains of the Avengers is interested to hear what's going on," Tony responds.

What remains of the Avengers. Not just the Avengers.

You feel their absence, too, Vision thinks.

"As is, uh, King T'Challa," Tony adds. Vision floats over to the skyline, staring out.

"Several of our security team members following a suspect have reported visions—or others have reported visions, in this very city. That's one of her talents, isn't it?"

"Who were you tailing?" demands Rhodey.

"It's irrelevant—"

"It's only irrelevant if I say it's irrelevant," Tony interrupts.

The secretary sighs. "Fine. Laura Barton."

"Clint's wife?" Rhodey asks. Tony blanches.

"The man with the arrows?" T'Challa asks, sidling next to Vision. "He was a good shot."

"We suspected she would be in contact with her—"

"Are you authorizing us to do something or not?" Rhodey demands.

"Yes. The Maximoff girl is a threat; we've got to—"

"Yeah, yeah, we're on it. All two of us." Tony looks to Vision as he asks for locations.

"Dammit," mutters Rhodey.

"Tony," Vision says as he turns away from the skyline. You're down there, somewhere. "We can't hurt her." We can't do this.

"I'd never want to hurt her," Tony assures him, biting his lip.

"I may not be an Avenger, but I'd be happy to offer my assistance," T'Challa says. Vision stares at him, at Tony, who rolls his eyes. Like it or not, if T'Challa helps... were they wrong about him? Is he helping the others, or not?

We don't have a choice.

Tony holds out his hand for his armor. "Suit up."


"Come on!" Wanda grabs Lila and hoists her up on her waist, walking as fast as she can without alarming passersby. Why can't I have your blasted super speed too, Pietro?

"Where do we have to go?" pants Laura, clutching her baby Nathaniel Pietro. Cooper hunkers down behind his mother.

"Scott's supposed to be meeting us," Wanda says as they slink through the parking garage. "Here."

"Is Scott the newest Avenger? Unofficial Avenger?" Laura quizzes.

"He's Ant-Man." Wanda glances back at Laura. The secretary will have noticed that Laura hasn't shown up for their meeting by now—if the people she entranced didn't set off the alarms beforehand.

"I hate ants," Lila complains.

"Never been a fan myself," Wanda assures her as they head up a flight of stairs to the second level.

"Wanda!"

Tony. Wanda ducks behind a white SUV, Laura and the kids behind her, Lila burying her face in Wanda's pristine jacket.

"Look, we know you're here. It'll be a lot easier if you turn yourself in. Laura, you and the kids are all clear. Vision—"

Wanda starts at the mention of his name. She peeks around the corner of the SUV and notices Stark, red and gold armor glittering in the afternoon sunlight.

"Look, agents are surrounding this place. You're not going to get out and neither of us want anyone to get hurt—"

Laura gasps and Cooper lets out a little shriek.

Shit.

T'Challa appears behind them, dressed in his black panther suit. "Get in the car and send it and all the others onto the street," he hisses. wrenching open the door to eh SUV. "Don't worry, Mrs. Barton. I've seen her do it before."

"There are people—"

"Agents who'll be fine! Now—"

Wanda waves her hands and watches the red trendils sink into T'Challa's mind. He howls and staggers back.

"Hey!" Tony shouts, soaring at her as she sends the cars around them flying towards the street—in Tony's direction.

Sorry, she thinks to everyone who won't be able to get home. She slows the SUV and protects them from the other crashing cars. Cooper and Lila scream and Nathaniel starts to cry.

"Hey," Scott says as he materializes in front of her in tiny form. "Get moving!"

Wanda clambers out of the car, dragging Lila with her as she stumbles through the wreckage. Shouts echo around her, and then a crash behind her—she whirls around to see T'Challa, still trapped in his vision—or is he?—thrashing and charging at her, and then at the agents.

"Let's go," Wanda breathes as she races across the street, across the median to where a sedan waits. They leap inside, Scott snaps back into his normal size, and he speeds off.

But a purple figure rises in the sky above them. "Shit," Wanda whispers.

"Hey! If she can say it, why can't I?" Lila gripes.

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." Wanda smoothes Lila's hair as Scott speeds. "How is your daughter?" She cranes her neck looking behind them, expecting to see an army following them.

"Cute. I got her a kitten. Maggie's gonna be mad."

But no agents appear.


"They got away," Tony gasps. "How?"

"That girl… her visions," T'Challa says. Tony raises his eyebrows behind the king''s back.

"They're terrible," comments an agent, with an edge in her tone. Vision doesn't appreciate it. He's had enough of people assuming Wanda to be a monster.

At first, he thought it was obvious she wasn't, and she only needed to realize that. And then when he sent Rhodey crashing to the ground—when Vision saw him hit, when the reality of his diagnosis sliced through him, and then every moment since where Rhodey struggles to walk—Vision understands. It's hard not to believe you're a monster—or at least capable of monstrous things—when the loudest voice screaming is your own.

But Wanda's not. For whatever reason, she's better than that. "She was trying to reunite Laura with Clint, I'm sure," Vision says, his voice dragged by exhaustion, even though he'll never need to sleep.

"Clint Barton is a fugitive," spits the secretary.

"Yeah, um, we're aware," snaps Tony. He rubs at a contusion on his temple.

"And you couldn't see them?" he demands, turning to Vision.

He saw her.

Carrying that little girl—Clint's daughter, whom Vision had only seen photos of until today—and urging them all along. Jumping into a sedan. Heading east.

"No," Vision says. "I saw some cars heading west. As I told you."

We need to be put in check.

He still agrees. Now more than ever. But when obeying would mean Wanda being locked up in a straightjacket again…

"You didn't see? How did you not see? I thought you could—"

"He can make mistakes," Tony offers. "Nobody's perfect. Not even one of my creations."

"Yes, he can," Rhodey says, offering Vision a smile assuring him he doesn't fault him for whatever he did, or didn't do.

The secretary huffs. Vision paces away, floating towards the window. T'Challa narrows his eyes, and Vision returns the king's stare.

"Don't worry, Violet," says Tony, still staring at the secretary. "Maybe you're just more human than I thought. Not a bad thing."

"Given the current state of the world, maybe, a very bad thing," Rhodey counters.

Vision looks down at the teeming street. Avengers tower, an empty home. And now he knows what home means, and maybe family, in that there are people he cares about. And yet, they're all fighting, because they're flawed. Even now, Tony knows, and he's lying—why, Vision doesn't know. For Wanda? For Vision? Because he needs vibranium for whatever he's cooking up next?

Vision can also make mistakes.

He can lie, too.