She never did find anyone like him.
But she found someone pretty close.
Wanda feels the muscle in her shoulder go taut as she smooths the knots from her arm.
"Would you like me to do that for you?"
She cracks a smile as Vision raises a hand, the charcoal grey sweater that she selected for him sliding around his shoulders.
"No, I think I'm alright. I'll be ready in a minute, but thank you for asking."
Vision nods, going back to interlace his fingers and watch as she shrugs on a jacket. He's never understood human behavior–nor does he think he ever will–but he's starting to recognize familiar body patterns in Wanda that he's learned to associate with certain emotions. He likes to think it's a matching game played between words, actions, and facial expressions. A million combinations and one outcome. There's a high chance of error.
"I'm ready." She gives him a comforting smile, and he does his best to return it.
They walk across the compound–Wanda's room is purposely placed to be furthest from the entrance for the possibility of something like this–hand in hand. Wanda hopes he can't feel her sweat sliding between their fingers. As if reading her mind, Vision tightens his grip.
He is mine, and mine alone, she thinks. There are only so many things that the world can take from me.
It's crisp. The sky is gray and her lips are chapped. She shivers, but her body temperature regulates in a minute. Vision turns toward Wanda, a sad smile on his face as he shakes his head.
"I am sorry."
"It's not your fault. We all know it's for my own good."
Vision looks down at the dull brown grass. "Clint will be upset to see you go."
"He will soon forget about me," But tears well in her eyes. "and so will you."
"How can you say that?"
"I am irrelevant information. All people erase bad code eventually."
I will never forget, never about you, he wants to say. But he knows what she says is true–all humans forget, and all computers clean their hard drive.
"I may stop remembering, but I will still love you."
Her hair whips around her face in the cold wind, and Wanda leans into him. They hug for seconds, for minutes. Wanda is the first to let go.
"When I am sad, I will think of you." Her fingers ghost across his cheek, and she turns away.
That makes Vision feel better, because he knows that when she has nothing left, when she is too tired to go on, she will still have him. She will still love him, and he her, because they are faithful.
He turns back to the compound, roaming the hallways. Later when Tony returns, Vision has to blink the moisture from his eyes.
"Where's Witchy?"
Soon Tony's grin disappears, and he removes the sunglasses from over his eyes. "What happened?"
He breathes. "She left with two options: to come with Ross or be hunted–one day she could risk killing all of us if she lost control. She chose to go, for our safety. He did not give her the option of returning."
The pain in Tony Stark's eyes is intense, raw, sincere. Vision did not attest for this kind of reaction in his simulations.
"How could she do this?" His voice is so quiet that Vision must read his lips.
"Because she loved us most of all."
Tony understands, quietly begins to cry, and goes to his room. Vision finds him in the morning with whiskey staining the bedsheets.
A peice of paper is taped to the headboard with a phone number scrawled across it and sloppy writing underneath it.
Call the team. Come back, Wanda.
No, thinks Vision. This is not logical. This cannot happen. How could he go against Wanda's wishes?
Vision is sad. He didn't want to do this. He suppose he did care, in some odd, twisted way. After all–Tony was like a father to him. Taking a pillow, Vision secures it across his friend's airway and pushes.
"I am sorry, you must understand."
Tony awakens and thrashes, but eventually lies limp against the bed. Vision straightens his sweater, dropping the pillow and taking a seat in the leather chair across the room.
"This is what she wanted. Wanda must always come first."
All is quiet.
