Night Visions

Chapter 17

The world blurred, losing focus. Wanda stared out the window as the jet descended, seeing nothing of the clouds beyond the glass, taking no comfort in the darkness stretching out around them. Strange, that she had once feared the night. The dark had always reminded her of those days spent beneath the rubble of her collapsed home, where time lost all meaning, where every breath felt like it would bring the weight crashing down on them. It felt like that now. The world blurred again and she wiped a hand across her cheek. There was no point. The tears would always come. Just like the darkness.

But that had been before. The nights were not so bad now, not with Vision beside her, waiting to soothe away the nightmares. Rocking in her seat, she hugged herself. Vision wasn't here. And the others... they sat alone, as lost to their own thoughts as she was. If only she could reach out with her mind, if only she could touch some piece of him, let him know that they were coming back. Some of them, anyway. But concentration failed her. The tears were coming again.

She could see the lights below her, the lights of home. Was it still? What would happen to them now? The questions were too much, too big. She could feel the collapse looming, just as it had all those years ago, the chasm opening beneath her, threatening to swallow her whole. But this time it would swallow all of them.

When they touched down, no one moved. Disembarking would mean it was over, would make it real. Barton slid back in the pilot's seat with a sigh, glancing at Natasha, who cradled a dislocated elbow. She didn't seem to see him, or notice the redness of his eyes. Rhodes sat hunched in the seat across from her, looking strangely small without his armor. Wanda couldn't bring herself to look at Sam... or at the familiar figure sitting beside him. The man's face was a mask of anguish, his knuckles white as he gripped the shield that rested against his knees. He hadn't let it go since he'd picked it up and chased after their attacker, appearing from nowhere to fight beside them. But, even then, it had been too late.

Breathing deep, Wanda stood. They could not stay in the jet forever. And she could feel Vision now. He was near... and happy to have her home. His relief was so out of place that it staggered her.

But then Sam was there, offering her a hand. When she raised her eyes to his, pain ripped through her and she turned her face away, shaking her head. "I can feel everything. Your thoughts. Theirs. I cannot control it." Her breath grew ragged. She needed to focus, needed to block them out. But she was so, so tired.

"Gotcha. Bad enough being in my own head right now."

"Walls." It was their guest who had spoken. Or maybe their prisoner – she wasn't sure. Still he stared down at the shield in his mismatched hands, his eyes distant and unfocused. "Think of walls. Sounds simple. But it works. Sometimes."

She thought of walls – not the crumbling, fragile brick of the home that she had lost, but the walls of this place, of the room where she'd learned not to be afraid. But the image in her mind wasn't made of smooth plaster. There were plates etched into the surface, in soothing colors of red and gold and green, lines that she had traced beneath her fingers as her mind drifted off to sleep. It wasn't a wall that she was seeing, but something stronger, something impenetrable, who would wrap her in his arms and never let her go.

The others were leaving. She could feel them still, but they were muted, distant. The only pain left was her own.

Vision was waiting for them on the landing pad. The sight of him overwhelmed her, her eyes stinging again. Pushing past the others, she ran down the gangway and threw herself into his arms. He crushed her to him so tightly that she imagined he would hold her there forever. If only that were true.

Tilting her chin up to look at him, he wiped a tear from her cheek, relief giving way to concern. His eyes asked a question, but she didn't have the words to tell him.

His confusion grew as he looked to the others. "Agent Barton... Colonel Rhodes... where is Mr. Stark?"

They had been Stark's people, after all. Barton had been "keeping an eye on things," as he put it, communicating with Natasha in an effort to keep things from getting "out of control." It hadn't been enough. The man who called himself "Crossbones" wasn't one of Stark's. No one had seen him coming. Not until it was too late.

It was Rhodes who answered. "Said he needed time. Alone."

The two were close, Wanda knew, but Stark had flown off with barely a word. They had come too late, failed to stop the very thing that Stark had pledged his team to prevent. For all his talk of control, he hadn't been there when it mattered.

Vision could see Rhodes' discomfort. He offered him a thin-lipped smile, but Wanda could feel the tension in his arms as he pulled her closer. "I am glad you are back."

Rhodes stared down at his hands. "Where else would I be?"

Looking to the jet, Vision watched as the last member of their party stepped onto the gangway. There he hesitated, still clutching the shield, his dark-rimmed eyes scanning the building. Even uncertain, his mind was working, his defenses unshakable even in grief.

Vision's jaw clenched, his arm tightening around Wanda's waist. When he spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Barnes.

"Where is Captain Rogers?"