A/N: It's a short one, but I wanted to get it up with the other while I was motivated to do as much. I'm sorry this story is taking so long to write, but I'm determined to get it done. Hope y'all enjoy and thank you for sticking with it.

Chapter 19: Risk

On the ride back from Novi Grad, Vision insists on buying groceries. As a result, she finds herself leaning against a farmer's stall on a side street in Transia when she's recognized.

It's easily been one of the longest days of her life. And it's certainly been one of the most emotionally draining. So, the first time the group of drunken college students walks by, she attributes their odd looks to her own paranoia. The second time they come around, she hears them before she sees them.

Between obnoxiously loud cackles, she can only hear snippets of their conversation.

"No way."

"I swear, I saw her! She's with some tall guy."

"Whatever you say, man."

"See for yourself!"

By the time she whips her head around to confirm her suspicions, the group is already advancing towards them. 'I've been made.'

To his credit, he doesn't ask any questions. Instead, dropping a handful of crumpled bills for the seller and taking her hand. Her initial instinct is to lead them away at a run. But, logically, she knows running down the street in the middle of the night would only make them appear more suspect.

'There's an alley we can take ahead on the right.'

She catches sight of the alley just as he mentions it and, consciously trying not to speed up their pace, heads down it. 'Anywhere we could disappear?'

'How about a pub?'

'Good enough.'

"I think they turned!" The voice echoes down into the street.

'Perhaps not.'

'Shit… I don't…' Wanda is well aware that she's the reason they're here. That, if not for her, Vision would still be safe at the compound. Which makes her responsible for getting them out of this mess.

Her brain supplies her with the thought that if Clint or Nat were in her place, this probably wouldn't be happening to him. Then it clicks- a story that Nat once told her during their training, coming to mind.

'I have an idea.' She pulls her hair from its elastic, leading him into the closest shadow she can find. 'Can I borrow your coat?''

"Try that one!" A look back tells her they haven't rounded the corner yet.

Faster than she ever could, he wraps his jacket around her shoulders. As he does, Vision thinks, 'It looks better on you, anyway.' She's sure that she wasn't meant to hear it. Considering the circumstances, she's also pretty sure that it shouldn't make her smile the way it does. Nonetheless, time is running out.

Vision thinks, later, that he should have known it would be different with her. That all the novels, and movies, and paintings, and songs would pale in comparison.

It's not the artists' fault, not really. They never stood a chance. They couldn't hear the depths of her, how her kindness and intelligence seem brighter and deeper in the face of her torment. Despite, or, in spite, rather, of how it sinks into her every syllable after a sleepless night. They hadn't seen her beaten and bloodied, almost unrecognizable, almost gone. They've never fathomed how she's had to claw her way back to remotely okay or how she still fights each day.

So, they couldn't know that when Wanda beams, viridian eyes aglitter, the world narrows. They couldn't understand the triumph it signifies and the pure euphoria it evokes. Or how that smile, on her lips, could suddenly redefine so much. It occurs to him that he's thankful the artists' got love wrong.

He has no heart to beat wildly in his chest, and his legs will never give out beneath him. There are no fireworks ringing through the air, or sunsets for them to ride off towards on horseback. There's only the backdrop of fear and risk on a dim, rainy cobblestone road in Transia. And Wanda.

Wanda's hand, warm against his cheek, sliding around to the back of his neck. Wanda's breath, catching audibly, as she suddenly leans into him, her forehead resting against his. Wanda's lips whispering his words back at him, asking, "May I?" so close that he can feel them brush his own when he nods.

It's in that moment, that microsecond of her smile against his, that Vision recognizes he's fallen in love with Wanda Maximoff. Then she's kissing him, and it's luxurious and phenomenal and real. And her cheek is in his palm, and her hair is catching on his fingertips, and when her lips slightly part on his, they both take a sharp breath in.

Vision barely has time to register it all, thousands of descriptions springing into his mind, before she's pulling away. He only just catches the way her dimples stick out when she pulls in her top lip. She looks around the alley, the one he'd practically forgotten they were supposed to be hiding in. And, of all things, she says, "I've heard public displays of affection make people uncomfortable."