A/n: This work is no longer beta'd so all mistakes are mine.

The windows in the boathouse occupy 52.6% of its surface area, revealing the panorama of vacant seaboard and star-painted sky outside. Better still, they serve the dual purpose of keeping prying eyes at bay, reflecting the image of the shore (and, any would-be voyeurs) without sacrificing the ability to see out. It's a unique defense, well suited for the Vision's purposes.

He takes it all in; finding that, for all its grandeur, the sight before him is dichotomous. Charming, yet insolent in its mocking of his grisly intrusive thoughts, his pervasive doubt.

Of course, he'd always known that there could be no undoing of what's been done. But, he had been so sure, so confident in his belief that he could right his initial wrong. That he could protect her, and love her, and it would somehow serve as amends for leaving her, for failing her. A chimaera, at best.

Now, he has no choice. All that's left is to confront the truth. To accept that there's no indemnity to be had, no reparations great enough for Wanda's innumerable sufferings. There's only accepting what's happened, and being by her side for what's to come.

Wanda sleeps, cuddled into his side, on the couch she nearly collapsed upon when they arrived. Nearly half the night passes before he feels her shift, nuzzling into him with a quiet groan. She's sleep-deprived and in desperate need of a peaceful night's rest. Rest that she's not likely to reap the benefits of, should she stay as is.

Mindful not to wake her, the Vision maneuvers her against his chest, lifting her as he stands. Forcing back thoughts of how often she's been injured or hurting when he's carried her. Especially that of the first time, suspended over Novi Grad, surrounded by death. Instead, he chooses to focus on the palliative effect of holding her. How it mollifies the niggling fear of her being captured or injured, again.

With cautious movements, he raises her, stepping carefully to avoid any jarring motions as he takes her to the bedroom. It's less than two metres from the couch to the doorway, and less than one metre from there to the bed. Despite his best efforts, she awakens. Her hand gripping his arm and her eyes snapping open when he sets her on the bed.

'What happened? Did he find us?'

'No, nothing of the sort. We're safe.' He feels her grip loosen, her hand slipping down his arm. 'I thought you would be more comfortable in bed, nothing more.'

'You're sure?'

'Completely.' Glancing around the room, he locates a throw blanket atop a bench and uses it to cover her. 'It's all right, you can sleep.'

Vision turns, intending to settle on the bench for the evening, before Wanda's fingers wrap airily around his wrist, stalling him. 'Stay… Stay with me.'

He does as asked, lying down beside her, moving closer when she throws her arm across his middle. 'I'm staying.'

"Do you have any ideas about how he found us?" Leaning on the back legs of a chair at the kitchen table, Wanda takes a drink of her coffee. "I was thinking, he must have seen us together, to know he'd have to get us alone. Right?"

Vision nods, "I tend to agree, yes. As far as I can discern, there's only one way that Erik could track our movements. Surveillance."

"The trains?"

"And stations, certain streets, businesses. It would suggest he has the means to access public and private security cameras, traffic and government cameras, possibly more."

"Yeah, probably. He could definitely afford it… Fuck." Over the last few days, she'd considered the possibility. Erik's always been dangerous, resourceful. Willing to do anything and everything to achieve whatever it is he wants. And, figuring out exactly what that is from her is another can of worms, in and of itself.

Sighing, Wanda lets the wooden chair fall flat, leaning forward onto the table. She picks up the spoon she used for her coffee. Stands it upright and lifts her hand away. Spinning it in place with her power. "How are we supposed to get food? Or, anything?"

"That's part of the reason we're here. This particular rental is kept fully stocked by the owner. They've offered to drop off anything we need. I've already requested some clothing and fresh produce. There should be a parcel arriving sometime this evening."

"We can't leave."

"No, not necessarily. We can leave, we just can't go anywhere that cameras are, for the time being."

She drops the spoon, watches it bounce, clattering against the wood. "Or people."

"Right. I don't know if Erik is capable of accessing mobiles. However-"

"If someone did decide to film us and post it somewhere, we'd be exposed."

"Precisely."

The chair squeaks against the floor as she gets to her feet. "Mm." Placing her dishes in the sink, she leans back against the countertop.

In the tiny kitchen, it puts her directly across from where he sits. Close enough that she can bump him with her knee. So, she does. "You did say, 'for the time being.' I take it you have a plan?"

"Not a plan, per se. More of an idea in the making."

"Please, do share it with the class." It gets a smile out of him that makes her feel lighter, less tense.

"You may recall that we have to check in with Natasha and the Captain in two weeks. I was wondering if we ought to bide our time until then, and ask for their assistance."

Knots reform in her stomach, the previously released tension returning with a vengeance. She's not mad at the suggestion, or at him. Only furious with herself for creating their current set of circumstances. "No."

"No?"

"No. I'm not asking Nat and Steve for help. I can't."

"May I ask why?"

"Because I've already gotten you mixed up with Erik's bullshit. I won't bring them into it, too."

"You must know I don't feel that way." Vision reaches out, his thumb breezing over her knuckles. "I'm sure our friends would agree."

"Yes, I do. I know." He flips her palm in his, pressing a kiss to its center. The hint of pride in his touch lingering after his lips leave her skin. Strengthening her resolve. "I'm also aware there's a possibility they might agree with you. But, even if that were the case, it wouldn't change how I feel about it."

"Wanda-"

"Vizh. I can't. I just- I won't. I hate that you're in danger because of me, because of my past. Even if you disagree. I can't help it. I know you wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. You wouldn't be a fugitive. You'd be back at Avengers Compound, with Stark and Rhodes. Where Erik wouldn't have been able to hurt you. You'd be out of harm's way. You-"

"Er, no." Standing, he interjects, hands coming up to rest below her shoulders, "No, I think I'd be out of my mind with worry, as I was when Captain Rogers reached out to me. Besides, who's to say I wouldn't be in danger at the compound? We have no way of knowing. I'm here because you've allowed me the opportunity to stay. I'm exactly where I want to be. With you."

It's the first time Vision's brought up his experiences during the six weeks she was a prisoner. On the beach in Casablanca, she'd felt some of his feelings about it. But, he doesn't bring it up. Just listens when she does.

"I want to be with you, too." Standing on her toes, she skims her lips across his. Lets herself be swept away by his kiss, if only for the moment. "I'm still not calling them in."

Vizh hums, his thumbs rubbing circles against her biceps. "I suppose the matter is settled, then. What do you propose we do instead?"

"I don't know. Not yet, anyway. We'll figure something out."

"We will. We shall."

From the ottoman in the living area, Wanda eyes the vehicle approaching the boathouse. It's the first sign of any outsiders she's seen all day. Slowing to a stop, parking along the fence, making her heart hammer in her chest.

Someone exits the beat-up old Bug, a large cardboard box in their hands. Their face and upper body obstructed from view. It could be anyone.

"Ah," Vision turns, looking over his shoulder towards the door, "that must be the owner."

The owner, maybe. Or it could be Erik, or Ross, or Stark, or some other enemy. Someone who works for their enemies. Someone waiting, ready to attack.

The image of Erik ripping Vision flashes through her mind. His scream fresh in her ears, despite his present state, quietly sitting in front of her. Unharmed. Her pulse thrumming in her ears, she stands, accidentally bumping Vision in the act.

"Wanda?"

As if in slow motion, she sees the person outside reach the door. Crouching down to place the package on the doorstep. She feels Vizh hook his ring finger around hers. The contact forcing the held air from her lungs in one great rush.

"I have to…" it fizzles out on her tongue, her attention switching back to the present threat. A swift ribbon of scarlet unfurls itself from her free hand, streaming towards the door.

Straight away, Wanda can feel that the man outside is simply the owner. There's nothing in his mind to indicate that he knows anything about who they are. A few curious inclinations towards them. Wondering whether or not they'll wreck the place, what brought them around. No nefarious plots to speak of. No connections.

The man turns to leave and she lets the red line tying them fade. "I had to make sure it wasn't a trap."

"Ah, I see. What's the verdict?"

"He's no danger to us."

"That's a relief. I was able to clear him through a background check. Nevertheless, I'll admit I considered asking if you might do as much."

"Why didn't you?"

"I thought it would be too intrusive. Besides, I trust you to do what's right."

He's nonchalant, unabashed, and unremitting in his conviction. It hits a chord. One she's not able to articulate.

Rather than try, Wanda lays a hand over his chest, brushing her mouth across his. Reveling in the refuge he provides, she murmurs, "thank you," into his lips. Takes another kiss for good measure. "Next time, ask."

"Absolutely." Gruff and grinning, he tightens his embrace. "And, when I do, you'll do that again?"