The Unknown Emotion ~ A WandaVision Fanfic

Chapter 19

I must have fallen asleep for several hours, and been driven for hundreds of kilometres, for when I woke up the sun was rising and we were nowhere near the suburbia when I first met the man. We were now surrounded by glass skyscrapers that glinted in the sunlight, and grey streets lined with aggressive traffic.

This was a stark reminder that as lovely and gentle Wanda was with me, she was powerful enough to reduce a consciousness into her own slave from an overwhelming and impressive distance. My admiration for her grew to more than what I thought was possible.

I paid the driver with cash I had stolen from Mr. Stark's wallet. I felt guilty about that, but I'm sure the billionaire would find it in his heart to forgive me. For stealing the money that is... I'm not sure how he would forgive me for running away and frankly I was having difficulty in sympathising for Mr. Stark at the moment.

Wanda was here, I could feel her electrifying presence in the air.

Before the driver took off, I reached my arms through his window and tapped the sides of his forehead, washing Wanda's influence out of his system.

And so here I was in New York city, wearing a white shirt and black trousers and looking utterly lost in a crowded intersection. It was beyond bizarre to stand there in a haze of people, and not be gawked at. My disguise was evidently successful.

With my newfound freedom, I walked the streets aimlessly, knowing that once I was within Wanda's circumference of control, that she would take me and bring me to her. Meanwhile, the aim here was to blend right into the crowd, and can I state again how successful this disguise is, and how pleased I am with myself?!

"You look lost. Can I help you?" a woman interrupted my thoughts, her voice sweet but overpowered by a ridiculous New York accent. Immediately I turned away from her, in fear of her seeing the mechanics of my Vibranium eyes and recognising me as a non-human.

"No, but thank you" I said gruffly, disguising the robotic reverb in my voice.

"Hmm.. Are you sure about that." she said. My synthetic heart thudded deeply when I realised her voice was now infused with an eastern European accent.

I turned to face her.

She had a shy smile on her face, framed by soft waves of auburn hair that had now grown until her waist. She was in fugitive-mode, she wore a dark cap that she carefully pulled over her eyes, which hardly concealed her mind blowing beauty, as was evident from the admiring looks of passer-by's. Her lips were painted in the shade of a black cherry that bloomed against her ivory skin, and when she looked up at me her honeyed eyes shone with what can only be happiness for reasons I cannot fathom. I will never know what I ever done in my short life to deserve this heart-stopping gaze from the enchantress that is Wanda Maximoff herself.

She took a finger-gloved hand out of her denim jacket to give me a small wave. "Hey" she said, her lips stretching into a smile.

She wore casual attire; scruffy jeans, some runners, and a black top underneath her jacket and yet the sight of her was the most serotonin-inducing moment of my entire life.

"Hello" I said awkwardly, cringing internally. The woman I spent six months of restless nights dreaming of stood right before me, and a thoughtless 'Hello' was all that I could muster. In my defence however, the signals inside my head were quite literally going haywire at the sight of her.

Seemingly, it was the correct thing to say; she arched a perfect eyebrow, and her smile grew as she skipped forward and took my hand.

"Come" she said, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Her hand was small enough to get lost in my large ones, but she anchored her fingers in there and dragged me through the New York crowds. I followed, my body reacting warmly to the contact between us. It was more wonderful than I could imagine, but I longed for more. I wanted her lips against mine.

"Patience Vis'" she teased, and I froze when I remembered that she could sense the influx of my thoughts. I internally scolded myself, and forced these lovesick thoughts deeper into my brain.

She expertly weaved us through the early morning crowd; past stoic business men and women with large cups of coffee and surrounded by the aroma of fresh bagels wafting from a food van.

And then I saw where she was leading me with such fervour and urgency.

Avengers Tower stood in front of us, falling in disrepair and yet gleaming proudly with whatever it had left intact. The skyscraper once represented a legacy of superheroes that desired to do right by humanity... until things went deliriously wrong with the creation of Ultron, after which the the location represented bitterness and resentment on a global scale.

Mr. Stark had auctioned off the tower mere months after the Sokovian Accords were signed, and it appears that it is currently undergoing renovations and therefore was vacant.

What I could not understand was why Wanda was leading me there with great excitement, when this was the birthplace of Ultron himself, the Being that murdered her beloved brother Pietro.

I pulled Wanda to a stop, and she turned around confused.

"What are we doing here, Wanda?" I asked, attempting to conceal the concern in my voice.

She continued smiling at me iridescently, and her fingers danced and formed two orbs of glowing red in each of her hands.

In public.

In the middle of New York City.

While she was a wanted fugitive.