there is no order here (3)

He had always liked the quietness of a lonesome, and how a natural peace would drift over them. It felt right to see such a serenity, so he had never really understood the pain in their eyes and the hurt in their heart. It is peaceful, isn't that what humans want? Although it is bothersome to be alone, it never occurred to him that it would upset people.

After all, there is order in being company with only one's self and that order is what the Avengers are trying to achieve.

—so why does the silence suffocate him so?

His hands find release in the sheets, his fingers twisting and turning the hem of the soft blanket, and he does not understand how the action makes him more restless. The cool spring breeze flutters in through the opened windows, kissing his skin and relieving him somewhat from the too much hotness he feels.

The relief is short-lived, however, as the breeze fades leaving him to suffer once more. He sucks in a breath through his teeth—he tastes ashes and dirt and red and crimson and scarlet and he is forced into recent memories of strong spices and beautiful laughter and warm understanding and—

"Mr Stark wants to avoid another public incident until the accords are on a more secure foundation."

Disbelief in her parted mouth. Hurt vividly painted on her face. Stiff briskness in her walk.

He jumps from the bed, bare feet landing loudly on the floor, his fingers releasing the blanket into the carpeted ground. The emptiness in his hands did not make better his restlessness, rather, there is a want—no, a need to curl his fingers tight and dig his fingernails into his palms, and yes he knows it is irrational and desperate but it just feels so right to do so and he would rather do that than spen—

...

Then, he finds himself standing before the mirror, all thoughts leaving him at the sight of his own reflection.

He had never seen himself so ... beaten. He does not know whether to be fascinated or worried at the thought as he raises a hand to ghost over the wide vividly colored ache on his bare chest, a deep purple ink that seems to seep into his very fibers. Mottled mass of burnt flesh he finds along the curves of his legs and in the sides of his waist and the nook of his neck, red synthetic things bubbling like faint froth and spilling short yet heavy drips of dark crimson paint from each damage inflicted upon him.

Doctor Cho had immediately ordered the small staff of fellow colleagues and medically trained people to ready the facility's own Cradle after she had witnessed him phasing from the ground and dropping down as he solidifies. But as she kneels to look at the whole extent of his injuries, he starts to think of calloused and strong hands from years in the sun and the dirt and hard labor and bows and arrows and guns.

Do not go near me.

He only has enough time to see Mr Stark arrive in his iron suit, with the War Machine trailing behind, a startled look on both of their faces, before he flies away to the confines of his room.

That was an hour ago.

"I am—" he cuts himself off, the words sounding as bitter as rich and hot coffee tastes. The face in front of him copies his lips, moving with soundless words and sighs of breath. He tries to think for sweeter words—for honey and milk things to say, but his mind is suddenly a blank slate, and he does not like that.

"I am ... Uh. Am I—am I at wrong?" he hears his voice say, and he instantly recoils in shock.

There is not 'nothing' in it. No, no. There is actually something more than the empty metal tone that he finds himself hearing in his incoherent mumbling for the recent hour, and it startles him into a jump because fearrageregretfearfeardoubt.

He gasps.

He had long suspected that there is an empathic power of the Mind Stone, as he had felt so much emotions that should be foreign to such a synthetic being such as him.

He knows what fear feels like when he had seen the vulnerability in Ultron's steel eyes. He knows what rage feels like when he had seen Doctor Banner's calm eyes look at Wanda with his jaws locked tight. He knows what regret feels like when he had seen Mr Stark drink himself into a miserable stupor after Miss Potts had left.

But, the strongest one is doubt—he does not even know why he could identify it. In all the days of his existence, there is not a single drop of dubiousness or uncertainty. There is only clarity and firmness of Captain Rogers, wit and understanding of Miss Romanoff, humor and patience of Mister Wilson, wisdom and exasperation of Mister Rhodes, eagerness and unity of all the agents in the compound. (Wanda is full of emotions and thoughts too, but she is the exception, as her powers amplify her instability and he does not know whether the emotions he senses from her are real or not.) There is no room for doubt, not here in the presence of all the members of the Avengers' Initiative where trust and faith lives.

He does not know why he knows it is doubt, but after a moment's contemplation, he finds himself not minding. At least, he tells himself, he knows what he is doubting.

Loyalty, although it is a very precious value to give and to be given to, is a fickle thing. With just enough factors, one could switch sides easily, betraying the other for a previous enemy.

Wanda.

The idea of harming her makes his skin crawl. He will fight everyone and anything, but not Wanda. She does not deserve that kind of pain—she does not deserve any kind of pain, for that matter. She had gone through hell for more than twice, he will not let her go through that again.

He wants to set her free.

But—

He looks at his nakedness and the wounds and the burns and the bruises and the ache and the hurt and the red.

—she is Power in its rawest form, the most unpredictable Force which will not be tamed so easily. Like a raging forest fire, she cannot be controlled.

She is Chaos incarnate.

And he cannot let that flame devour and make ashes the forest.

He will fight for the good of all.

"I am sorry, Wanda," he says. "But, I will do what I must. For your sake."

He will do this for her.

Loyalty is such a fickle thing, indeed.

a/n: i am very sorry for the long delay of updates. i hadn't been in the mood for writing, but i owed you guys a lot for your shows of support for this story and i supposed that this chapter, which I had started writing three weeks ago but never had the motivation to finish until now, is passable to you guys. i am very sorry though if you find it confusing, and i will do my hardest the next chapter.

one reason why Vision is suddenly bombarded with thoughts and emotions is because when Wanda had used her powers directly into the Mind Stone to free Clint from Vision's hold, she accidentally let loose some of the "emotion-y" power that it has. or that's what i would like to think anyway

i will publish the romanogers fic right after i am done editing it, which would be sometime this week or early next week. also, if you don't mind me shamelessly advertising and love PepperOni, please check my story maybe if I tell myself enough, maybe if I do that is if you guys like.

to Jenna (guest): thank you very much for your kind review! and i will surely post it soon.

feedback is very much appreciated