In Darkness, Be My Light

Pent-up, Locked Away

Warning: Mentions of past rape.

"Wanda..." came Vision's voice from the bedroom. "Join me for a minute, will you?"

Wanda paused combing the knots out of her damp hair and raised a brow. She shrugged and pulled her hair back with a hairband while walking out of the bathroom. "Yeah? What's up?"

He gestured for her to sit next to him on their bed and took a moment to collect his thoughts, wondering how he should start.

"Tell me, Vis. What's on your mind?" she gently asked, prying into his subconscious only for a moment as she felt his uncertainty. She reached for his hand and linked their fingers, waiting for him to start.

"The media...the public wants you to speak on the rumors of your experience in the Raft," he said calmly, not trying to inflict her with any painful emotions.

She shrunk, trying to find a way out of this conversation. She had been avoiding talking about her two week time in the Raft ever since the rumors of being sexually assaulted started spreading. "I—I—I think I forgot to take my medications," she stuttered and breathlessly let out while rising from her position, "Give me a second." And without looking at him, she walked into the bathroom as easily as she could. She shakily shuffled through the drawer and took out the bottles, swallowing hard the pills she took out.

As she wasn't paying any attention, only trying to calm herself down, Vision took the opportunity to come behind her and pull her into a hug, hands resting protectively over the grown belly where his children rest. Wanda looked silently up into the mirror, watching as he buried his face into the side of her neck, almost in prayer. "I don't want to," she whispered.

He spun her around, arms still encircling her body. "We both know that we can't let the rumors go on. As much as it might pain you, talking publically about this will ease the tension. It...it might help you move on emotionally," he said.

She shook her head. "It won't. Only you can and you have helped me move on," she insisted. "I don't want to relive any of that anymore. I don't want to go back to those awfully dark times." She shuddered. "Besides, I need to keep my head clear for when I meet Strange in a few days."

"Wanda, this is exactly what I'm talking about. You haven't moved on, you've only locked those memories away," he said as he stroked her hair, and she leaned into it.

She shook her head again. "I have moved on, Vis. I just don't want to talk about what happened during those times. It's all in my past. Yes, I might be upset or sad at times because of what happened, but...I haven't talked about it in so long, and I'd rather keep it that way."

"Wanda, please," he began, "I don't want the public starting their own theories and I want to clear up everything. I don't want you to end up in a situation where you can't go out in public without being judged and asked...incredibly upsetting questions, face to face."

Her face fell and she looked down. "I'm always being judged, Vis. It doesn't matter what I say. I'm always a monster in their eyes and they won't believe what happened. It doesn't matter what I do. If it fits their view they'll accept it, and if not...well then they'll create their own story. I don't want to deal with it." She moved away from him and walked to the bed, pulling the covers back.

He followed after her, concerned about the memories she wants to forget so much.

"I miss being on the run," she said. "All the rumors were just about where I was and what I was doing. I didn't care then, and all I had were painful nightmares and depression and that was all. But it was fun with you, and looking back now...I kind of wish I were still out there, only caring about if I would be caught or not but still not caring because I was with you in our own world. Alone without anyone to bother us, not many responsibilities. We were free to do whatever. But now, I have the pressure of talking about my personal life and the...treatment I received and I don't want to. Maybe I haven't moved on, maybe I still need to recover, but I just don't feel like talking to the world, a bunch of strangers will do me any good. Please don't ask me to do that. I don't want to always act like I'm a poor, helpless victim of a corrupt government and have to talk about what happened to me all the time. That won't help me move on. Time and...you will. Maybe after our kids are born, maybe then I'll feel free." By the time she was finished talking, she didn't realize the number of tears that had slid down her face until she touched her cheek in surprise.