Night Visions

Chapter 5

She had not expected to find him waiting. The room was dark, his face hidden in shadow, but he sat in his accustomed chair beside her bed, silent and unmoving. Wanda had always found his stillness calming, comforting, but despite the witness of her eyes tonight the room felt somehow... empty.

"I did not think you'd come."

Vision turned his head toward her, his eyes shining in the darkness. "I said that I would." His voice, too, was different, carefully controlled. She could sense the anger beneath it, but this wasn't like the sudden flare of rage she'd seen when he lifted the reporter off the ground. That had been for her, she knew. And it had been warm, it had been something.

Crossing the room, she bent to lay a kiss on his forehead, but he jerked away, refusing to look at her.

"Sleep."

"This is about what that woman said?"

"She may have been the first, but she will not be the last."

"You think I care what people say?" Wanda crouched before him, cupping a hand against his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. "All my life I hear things, hear them talk. But if I listened, I would not have—"

"It's not them." He did look at her now, that steely gaze snapping into sudden focus. "It's you."

"Me?"

"You are... unquantifiable. Intriguing, yes, and at odds with everything that I have known, everything that I am. I admit to a certain fascination, but I realize now that my actions were inappropriate."

"They weren't."

"They were."

"Did they feel inappropriate?"

Staring down at his hands, he shook his head. "What would I know of such things? I was not made to feel. No matter how much you might wish it, you cannot make it so. It would be a mistake to delude yourself further."

The words stung. There had been a time, when her abilities first manifested, that she thought she was going mad, when she almost believed the whispers, almost believed that they were the mistake. But Pietro had been there with her. He had never turned away. Unbidden, energy sparked between her fingers, but she dug her nails into the arm of the chair. "I am not deluded."

Vision did not flinch. He made a sound that might have been a chuckle, bitter and cut short. "You should sleep."

"And if I wake?"

"I will be here."

"Here. In this chair."

"Yes."

"If I want more? If I need—?"

"How else can I make you understand? Would you have me be cruel, speak of the frailty that I cannot help but see, this fragile network of will and tissue seeking purchase in a world full of danger?" He stretched a hand toward her face, but then lowered it and stared off into the darkness. "I find myself increasingly concerned for your safety and I fear it may compromise my attention in the field, that I will put your well-being before all else."

"That is what you are supposed to do, when you..."

"Care for someone?" His lips pressed thin. "It is the abandonment of reason. You see why this is a problem, that it goes against my—"

"'Programming?'" She knew she should not push, but for the moment his voice had lost the coldness that he was trying so hard to force. Even annoyance, even frustration would be better than that. "And brooding? Is that part of your programming?"

"I am not—" The protest died on his lips and he sank back in the chair, shaking his head. "Apparently so."

"Vizh..."

Leaning forward, he put his hands on her shoulders. The gesture surprised her, gave her a moment's hope, but then she saw the grief in his eyes. "I cannot give you what you want."

"You don't—"

"You are alive, Wanda, vibrant, more so than any creature I have ever known. I am a machine. You deserve... more. A living man."

"There is life." She traced a finger over his temple, trailing her hand down to rest against his chest. "I have felt it. From the beginning."

"Perhaps you did sense... something. I am still working to understand the limits of what I am. But that is not a question I can expect you to answer. I have become... dependent. This is not a burden you should have to bear."

"Maybe I want to." Sitting back on her heels, she folded her arms.

His lips twitched into something almost like a smile. "You wish to lash out. Perhaps I deserve it. Perhaps it would help."

"Don't tempt me."

"That was never my intention." He rose smoothly to his feet, moving so suddenly that it startled her. "But I see you are too agitated for sleep. I will return later."

"And risk agitating the deluded girl?" She stayed where he had left her, glaring up at him from the floor. "Don't bother."

"As you wish."

She saw him incline his head as he turned for the door, but then she was looking at the floor, at the bed, anywhere where he could not see her tears. When finally she risked a glance, he was gone.