Chapter 23: Onslaught

A/N: Hope everyone is doing well! Stay safe, all.

In the decade or so since Wanda and Pietro left the orphanage, his face has become haggard and drawn. Beneath the helmet and layers of black, he looks old. Something she's never thought him to be, regardless of his age.

"Erik."

"Wanda." She allows him to enter, observing his slowed gait as he walks to the center of the room. "Do come in, we're liable to catch our deaths with that door open." The chuckle he lets out enrages her. Reminding her of every patronizing comment he's ever cast her way. It makes her tighten her grip on the wood.

"Did you come alone?" Looking into the road, she doesn't see anyone. But, in all the time she knew him, he'd never traveled anywhere without backup. Without someone else to fight his battles for him.

"I have to say, when I envisioned your future, this-" Erik waves his hand, gesturing to the room at large, "is hardly what I pictured for you."

"That's not an answer." She does her best to suppress it. To show zero signs of emotion or weakness. As is her luck, she's betrayed by her body, coughing when her lungs are stung by the cold air coming in.

"Really, child, are you going to stand there all evening?"

Relenting to the cold, she takes a last look down the street before shutting the door. "How did you find me?"

"Irrelevant." He runs a finger across the table nearest him, inspecting a house she doesn't own for examples of her inadequacy. "No. As I've said, there are more pressing matters at hand…" Letting himself into the kitchen, he eases into a chair, folding his hands on the table. "But, not here. You need to come with me."

The absolute absurdity makes her laugh out loud. "No, I don't think I will."

"Have it your way. I tried doing this the easy way."

It's almost exactly what Ross said to her. Just a few words off. It triggers a violent, blooming rage within her. Before it all goes black, the last thing she sees is Erik's smirk lit by the scarlet glow of her hands.

Beneath the surface, there's unique peace. A welcoming, ever-present chill accompanied by a concert unlike any other. At depth, the Vision becomes its audience of one. The sole witness to history sung in stone, he listens with rapt attention to the sounds of shifting sands. The gravel groans its lament, guided by the low hum of life above, finding harmony. Nearing town, he rises to street level, away from the song of the earth and into the evening air.

He'd chosen Burford as their destination for two reasons: its proximity to the University, and its reputation as a small, sleepy town.

Initially, the plan was to pick up some hot soup on his way back as a surprise for Wanda. However, that went all to pot after the third speaker took the podium, around the same time all of the local shoppes closed.

The 24-hour store doesn't offer much by way of hot meals, but he manages to find a few bog-standard cold soups mixed in with the tinned goods. Debating between two options that he could punch up with spices, the Vision is halted by a twinge from the mind stone.

Of late, the random twitches have grown more frequent. This, though, is different even from the usual fare. It feels somehow more basal, more reflexive. 'Wanda…'

He waits, frozen where he stands in the aisle. A minute passes under the glare of incandescent lighting. Two. 'Wanda?' Another minute. Another two. 'Wanda, please?' Even if she were asleep at first, his calling her should have woken her by now, he thinks. She should be responding. Unless something is wrong. A scan of breaking news reveals she hasn't been spotted or captured by authorities. 'Wanda!?' Nothing. Still. As fast as he's ever moved, he phases through the roof of the convenience store and ascends higher, soaring towards the cottage.

It takes 6 minutes and 54 seconds to arrive. During that time, the Vision is near frantic. Her continued lack of response has him beyond alarmed, bringing him closer to full-blown panic with every metre of ground covered. Forgoing the door, he plummets directly into the kitchen.

"Wanda?"

"Not exactly."

At once, Vision is overcome with pain, like he's simultaneously being ripped apart and shoved back together. There's no opportunity to turn around or put a face to the familiar voice. Only agony and his automated response to it- system shut down.

The first thing that becomes clear to Wanda is that she has fantastically, fabulously, fucked up. Without question.

She underestimated her opponent. She hesitated and gave him too much time in the name of sentiment. Obviously, a mistake.

Scarcely able to take in her surroundings, she sees she's unrestrained, and in a strange bedroom, when she hears it. Yelling. Vision is somewhere in this dilapidated house, yelling, "W-Where is sh-she!?"

'Vision!' Blowing out the wall where a door used to be, Wanda doesn't register that the person who immediately comes in is also shouting something. She just wants them to be gone and then, the next thing she knows, they are. Forced up, and out, and far away. Dust and debris from the ceiling raining down around her.

There's more screaming and she's taking off down the hall, towards the most awful sound. Calling out as she approaches another hallway, "Vision!"

He manages, "W-Wanda!" before the screaming abruptly stops.

He's below her, she realizes. A blast through the floor brings her closer. Crashing what used to be a dining room, she surges through the nearest entryway.

"Ah, how kind of you to join us." Erik is standing in the center of an empty drawing-room. In front of him, a few feet above the floor, Vizh hovers, limp. "Behave. We wouldn't want you to-"

She cuts him off with a burst of energy directed at center mass, sending Erik flying backward through the nearest wall and Vision falling to the floor. In an instant, Wanda crosses the barren space and is by his side. 'Vision!'

He can't be gone, not when she just heard him. Not while she can still feel him. But there's exposed wire where metal should be, strips of vibranium missing from his hand and forearm. A piece from his shoulder half-peeled away.

"VISION!"

It must wake him from whatever unconscious state he was in. As soon as he catches sight of her, he cracks a smile. "Wanda, darling."

Seeing him hurt makes her physically ache. She has to do something, anything. Without thinking, she uses her power to find the fallen bits of him. Brings them to where they are. He sits up, and she sets to work reattaching the silver that's been half-torn from his shoulder, first.

"It can wait," he stops her, pulls her into him, hugs her tight for a moment. "I'm so glad you're alright," pressing a fast kiss to her lips, he smooths his thumb over her cheekbone. "We're okay, It's okay."

He's trying to get her to slow down. She needs to slow down. More than that, she needs to get Vision the fuck out.

Helping him to his feet, she slips under his uninjured arm to support him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Can you fly?"

"I believe so. What about him?"

"I don't care. We're leaving."