Wanda had never encountered so many large cities in such a short span of time. She felt chills at the sheer beauty and magnificence of both New York City and Seoul, and yet part of her cowered in anxiety over the foreignness of it all. She could appreciate their size, but could not linger within their boundaries for too long. She felt exceptionally closed in when standing between the skyscrapers, becoming dazed if she looked up at them for too long.

Nevertheless, the one they called Fury insisted that she be brought into the heart of Manhattan to purchase new clothing, courtesy of Stark. Though, she didn't care how much the billionaire tried to help. Nothing he could do would allow her to forgive him for the life he doomed her with. She wasn't one to refuse money, however, as it was not something she was made of. She had worn simple tank tops and sweat pants that Miss Potts had lent her, and she knew she couldn't keep them forever. None of the men could offer their services as they hadn't the faintest clue about women's clothing, and Miss Potts was far too busy. So she traveled with Natasha and Agent Hill, or... Maria, as she insisted Wanda call her.

These battle hardened women did not idle in the frivolous boutiques and stores that riddled the town, which she was grateful for. They were in and out, browsing only for the necessary articles that would replace her tattered and frayed dress. They hunted simply for her preferred shadowy hues of scarlet and coal, as they had no intention of pressuring her into clothing she felt uncomfortable in. Afterwards, Wanda found she could enjoy their company, and felt at ease in their conversations. She would even venture to call them... friends, a luxury she had not experienced since losing Pi—

Stop.

Wanda shook her head, not wanting to revisit those memories and ruin this pleasant day. This was a new life. A reset. A chance for her to blossom into a force they did not fathom she could even become. The untested strength she controlled just at her fingertips was surprising even to her. They would train her, teach her to explore that power, she knew. And she looked forward to it.

It had been weeks since the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. brought her back to the states and assured her protection. She had stayed with a few of her fellow teammates in a temporary suite within the Avengers Tower, understanding that a safer, more covert building was currently undergoing construction. So Wanda visited the campus often, assisting where she could. The last thing she wanted to become was a burden to these fine people. They brought her in and gave her shelter, warm food and a soft bed to sleep in. She had to do something to repay them, although she surmised that not even a lifetime of servitude would be enough.

When the living quarters of the Avengers facility were complete and fully furnished, staff members were allowed to move in and get a head start on research and training. That included herself, Agents Romanov and Hill, and the Vision. Wilson, Rhodes and Rogers lived in their own apartments, but were requested to stay at the compound and assist in completing the remainder of the superstructure, to which they obliged. Thor was out of the country, Clint remained with his family, she frankly didn't care what Stark was up to, and no one spoke of Dr. Banner.

Wanda was dropped off at the facility after their brief shopping excursion; the other ladies were going for drinks and insisted Wanda come, but she was far too tired and wanted to rest. She dropped her bags of clothing on the floor of the lobby and reached her arms to the heavens, stretching her back. She glanced out the wall-to-wall windows and watched curiously as the Vision carried materials, tools, and equipment to and fro with but his own hands and his remarkable ability to fly. She lowered her hands and examined them, flexing her fingers, and wondered if it were possible for her to do the same. She knew her powers allowed for telekinesis, so she did not doubt it was an impossible task, but she had absolutely no idea how to try; so she thought to confront the Vision and request his assistance.

Her heart rate began to increase as she considered it further. Vision was the one that saved her that day.

Wanda still hadn't decided if she really wanted to be saved. She had already lost Pietro. There was nothing more to live for.

However, the Vision's intentions were not lost on her. She understood his desire for the protection of life, as he had wisely stated only minutes after emerging from the Cradle. Still, she did not regard her life as worth saving. After she had satisfyingly ripped Ultron's cruel heart out of his chest, her mind went dark, and she accepted her fate. As she waited for death to consume her, instead she felt arms, firm and strong, pulling her close from where she helplessly fell. Her vision was a blur, fear and anger overcoming her, but for a moment—as they made fleeting eye contact—her mind tentatively reached out to his and instantly became enveloped in its tranquility. She did not remember much after that, aside from a metal floor, a cold body riddled with bullet holes, and rage, fury, despair—

The world began to spin. Her repressed memories returned with a vengeance, causing Wanda to grimace, grasping at her head in hysteria. The image of her still brother lying on the cold floor burned within her like hellfire. She desperately tried to think of something else, her breath coming in gasps now. Something less dark, less dead, less horrifying, less Pietro—

Vision.

The Vision.

Wanda fell to her knees and concentrated then, still clutching her head. She flailed her consciousness in every direction for contact with his, and found it right away.

Serenity.

Composure.

Determination.

…Guilt?

What?

No, positive, positive emotions… She held tightly to his thoughts of peace and fortitude, letting them envelope her psyche, disregarding the guilt. She refused to let her emotions consume her again. She would be strong. She would use this anchor as a light to guide her way, when her mind darkened.

Tranquility.

Hours must have passed, for she felt utterly spent, and her knees hurt from pressing against the hard floor. She glanced behind her at a clock that sat on a mantle below the TV.

Wait, no, only moments. It's still 3:22.

"Ugh," Wanda groaned. She shook her head and rose slightly, peering through the glass where she saw Vision floating idly in the distance, adorned with an orange safety vest. "As if your shiny golden cape wasn't enough," Wanda mumbled out loud. She then smiled, amused at Vision's insistence on upholding safety standards, even for himself. His head turned in her direction and she felt a shock run up her spine as his eyes locked with hers. She dropped flat to the ground, each breath fogging the polished tile of the floor. How could he have known? Her connection to others was subtle, quiet. Only her brother could have known… it must have been a coincidence, she lied.

Her boots squeaked on the tile as she crawled across the floor to her bags, and pushed them along until she passed through the lobby. She rose to her feet, exhaling in relief, and took the bags up to the living quarters and to her room. She fell onto her bed in exhaustion, not caring to take off her shoes or jacket.

Wanda's eyes fluttered closed, and she let the arms of sleep hold her gently, meditating on that feeling of tranquility.

A/N: And so we read the beginnings of Wanda's "mental" relationship with the Vision. I hope the pacing wasn't too choppy, it'll be a bit challenging to fill in the blanks between the battle of Sokovia and the ending scene of AoU as we really aren't given a timeline. Regardless, I hope to do so in a manner that seems believable and consistent. Thanks for reading! Kino