Night Visions

Chapter 12

"Wanda."

She looked up from her book, setting it beside her on the bed when she saw him standing in the doorway. Vision had thought to find her sleeping, had hoped that she would have been able to rest. Still she wore her dress, her feet bare and curled beneath her, her hair falling loose about her shoulders. It was late, but she had waited for him. He was glad. But his relief was tinged with guilt.

Pushing up on her knees, she opened her arms. He went to her, burying his face against her shoulder as she pulled him close. For a time she simply held him, for a few fleeting moments all the rest seemed to fall away.

Eventually, she pulled back, her eyes searching his face, asking a wordless question. He took her arm and turned it gently, examining the scrape on her elbow. It did not appear to be severe, but the memory of how she had received it brought the anger surging back. He turned his face away.

"I am sorry."

"I have had worse." She reached up to cup his cheek. "Where were you?"

His conversation with Captain Rogers had gone on longer than expected. By all accounts, the man was a brilliant tactician, but even he could not see what needed to be done. It was a good leader who cared about his people, who sought to protect them, but Rogers hadn't been there. He didn't know. Nor did he know about the phone call that Vision had made after leaving him.

"I needed time to think. What happened... you should not have seen that."

"People?" She scowled. "I have seen people. I know their fear." Looking up at him, her expression softened. "I may not have the density of a brick wall, but I am not so delicate as you think."

"That, I know." He kissed her forehead. "But I wish you had not seen me, not like that."

"You defended me. I am not going to complain. In fact, it was—"

"Assault. The man had legitimate concerns. I should have been able to defuse the situation. Had we only been able to engage in reasonable—"

She scoffed. "There was no reason. I saw it. I felt it. There was only anger, only fear."

"Maybe they had the right of it. Maybe I am no more than the monster I was created to be." He stepped away, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"You think I should be afraid of you? Because of that? I have seen worse. I have done worse." She shook her head. "If you had not been there, maybe I could have held them, maybe not. But when you did what you did... I was glad. No one has stood up for me like that, not since..." There were tears welling behind her eyes.

He brushed his thumb across her cheek, smoothing away the memory. It was never his intention to push her away. He had told himself he would not do this, not tonight, not with tomorrow looming so close.

His hand moved from her face to her hair, his fingers lingering. They trailed down to her shoulder, tracing the thin strap of her dress before brushing it aside. She tilted her chin to look up at him, her wide eyes studying his face, a smile tugging at her lips. Slowly he bared her other shoulder, holding her gaze as the dress slid to the ground.

Wanda lay a hand against his chest, jumping in surprise as the molecules of his clothing suddenly blazed and disappeared. He kissed her then, tasting her laughter, slipping a hand behind her as he lay her back on the bed.

He stared down at her, studying the details of her face – the curious tilt of her head, the way her eyes seemed to drink him in – committing them to memory. One hand trailed down her side, exploring the softness of her flesh, brushing along her thigh as she wrapped her legs around him. She gasped, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

He would remember this – her warmth, her touch, the very real ache in his heart. He would remember her eyes, the way they had looked at him and seen a man. No matter what happened tomorrow, he would remember.

Wanda sucked in a breath, her eyes going wide. Her lip trembled, but the smile was gone now, replaced by gaping disbelief. She pushed her hands against his chest.

"You're going to turn yourself in?" She stared up at him horror, reading his thoughts, but when he tried to pull away, she held him fast. "You..."

With a sigh, he disentangled himself and came to sit beside her. "I am not going to the authorities. I am merely seeking assistance... from Mr. Stark."

"Screw Tony Stark." Her voice was flat, disbelief giving way to betrayal as she sat up and pulled the sheet to her chest. "You know what he did."

"He is my creator, the only one who remains."

"So?"

He took her hand in his. "Wanda, I still do not fully understand what I am. These feelings... I cannot be certain how they will affect me. If anyone can help—"

"You need Tony Stark to tell you how you feel?" Her tone was icy.

"I need to know that I am not a danger. To you, most of all." He gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Because I would very much like these... feelings to continue. Yet I fear I am becoming unstable, volatile—"

"Human?"

He sank back against the pillows. Wanda slid close, her expression softening.

"That is how it feels. Not always, but most of the time." She trailed an idle finger across his chest. "Some parts are better. For a long time, I did not think so. I was angry, afraid. I thought I had lost everything. But then there was you."

He took her hand in his and she curled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. For a moment he was lost to the feel of her hair against his cheek, the smell of her shampoo. He had not thought... had not dared... but in all his analysis, he had found no better expression of the feeling. There was elegance in its simplicity. And if he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly.

Cupping her chin, he raised her eyes to his. "I love you, Wanda."

She smiled. "I know."

"I do not know how it is possible..."

She lay a finger against his lips. "'Possible' is not important. I do not think it matters. All that matters is that I love you, too."

She kissed him then and he slid down beside her, pulling her into his arms. The sheet fell away, but they simply lay, enjoying the silence, the feel of their bodies entwined. By sunrise she was breathing deeply and he slipped from the bed, taking a moment to stare down at her. She had thought that love would make him stay, but it was the very reason he had to go.

Laying one last kiss on her forehead, he slipped from the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. But when he turned, he found the hallway crowded.

Rogers was waiting for him, Romanoff and Wilson with him.

Rogers folded his arms. "You might as well wake her up. If you're doing this, we're coming with you."