Author's note:

Warning, Civil War spoilers!

Just a quick two-shot cause I'm Scarlet Vision trash.

Also, this story is dedicated to my best friend, and beta reader! Thank you so much, Tater Tot!

Her job during the fight had been painfully clear: Protect the other members of the team, from the shrinking one to the Captain himself.

Steve, as he had asked her to call him, had requested it of her, right before he went out into the middle of the airport to face Stark and his team.

"Just make sure no one shoots our guys out of the sky, okay?", he had asked.

To Steve's credit, he had not directly asked her to cover Vizh. Sure, Sam would be in the air to deal with the Iron Man and War Machine suits, but his metal wings would not stand a chance against someone as powerful as Vizh.

After all, Wanda herself had helped Vizh harness that power, teaching him how to direct his energy into it the light beam. They were usually matched up during training sessions, due to the similarities in their skill sets. At first, he had struggled with controlling the light beam, but Vizh had improved so much over the past year, and his accuracy was incredible. Wanda knew he would be a force to be reckoned with.

Steve continued speaking, unaware her thoughts had turned to other things. "I know it's hard, fighting friends, but we don't have a choice."

It was true. Just a few days ago, Wanda had trusted these people with her life.

Until they had turned around and locked her in the Avengers compound, with Vizh to watch over her, making sure she didn't leave, preventing her from creating another public spectacle.

Now, she would have to fight her friends, and cause them pain. She mentally went through the list of Stark's supporters, only pausing when she thought of Vizh.

Only she would be able to combat Vizh's power, that much she knew.

"Does it get easier?" Wanda asked softly. She had heard, once, about how Steve had fought the Winter Soldier on a helicarrier, the man who he was once best friends with. Someone he believed he had lost for over seventy years.

Wanda glanced briefly at the man himself, who was currently glaring at Sam. Never one to be intimidated, Sam was glaring back. Scott, as he had introduced himself, was chattering happily with Clint, who looked very done with how much the shrinking man was talking.

Steve shook his head. "Never. It never does, fighting a friend." He looked down at his shield, which he grabbed, sliding his arm into the straps. "Wanda….. You know you can't go easy on him, right? He won't go easy on us."

She nodded, pulling on her gloves. "I know."

He hadn't mentioned Vizh, but she knew that who was Steve was talking about.

The synthezoid held a special place in her heart, even though he had participated in her house arrest. Though Tony Stark had the "kindness" to not lock her in her room, her containment in the compound had felt like an equivalent to the cells of the Hydra facilities. While the Avengers building was much more comfortable, Wanda had been unable to shake the feeling of a caged bird: Unable to break free of her bonds, forever imprisoned.

But Vizh had been there for her. Despite her house arrest, he had still supported and cared about her. She cared about him, but Steve needed her. He needed her to help them escape to Siberia, where they could stop the "psychiatrist", whoever he really was.

There was no other way than to confront Stark and his team, and win. Failure would lead to imprisonment, a risk they were all willing to take, even Scott, who was not even an Avenger. From a quick rummage in his memories, Wanda had discovered that he had a little girl back home, one he was desperate to see again. He was risking everything for Captain America.

The same was expected of her.

The only way she could do that was if she separated her feelings for Vizh from the task at hand.

She turned to the Captain, a determination to win settling into her.

"I'll take of Vizh-Vision."

Steve nodded, his blue eyes meeting her own.

"Thank you, Wanda."

A-V-E-N-G-E-R-S~D-I-S-A-S-S-E-M-B-L-E-D

Vision's cape fluttered behind him, the movement of those around him disturbing the tranquility of the quinjet.

T'Challa, was sitting in one of the seats, head buried in his hands. It hadn't been very difficult for Natasha to convince him to join, according to the assassin. Vision could tell he was driven by vengeance, the desperate desire to get revenge for his father's life, to make the Winter Soldier suffer for what he had done. The Black Panther mask occupied the seat next to him, the silver metal glittering in the light. It was vibranium, like what made Vision's own body, but it was more intimidating. Even the small ears, though Vision found them quite unlike the frightening T'Challa, radiated strength and power.

Natasha occupied the next seat, her hands folded in her lap. The news that Hawkeye had joined Captain Rogers's side had disturbed the assassin. The thought of fighting her former partner unnerved her, putting her more on edge than usual. From what Vision had heard, Barton had even named his child after Natasha.

He would wager a guess that was a bond that was not easily dispersed.

Stark and Colonel Rhodes were speaking in the back of the jet, their suits not yet assembled. They shared similar expressions of distress and unhappiness, of the pain of fighting a man they respected and, at one point, had trusted.

Vision, however bad at social clues he might have be, was at least a bit more aware than their final companion, a teenager who called himself Spiderman.

He had chattered loudly and excitedly with no one in particular for the first half of the ride, until T'Challa had given him a wilting glare, which easily shut the teenager up.

Now, he sat quietly, though he occasionally glanced at Vision. It was likely that Vision's red appearance had caught the attention of the curious teen.

Thankfully, he had the sense to keep quiet, and fiddle with his web shooters, rather than speak.

Now, everyone waited in silence, as FRIDAY landed them in the airport.

Natasha finally spoke up, her voice breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled in the quinjet.

"Is there a plan?"

Tony looked up from his conversation with Rhodes, speaking slowly.

"I got FRIDAY to evacuate the airport. Limit the number of … civilian casualties. Other than that? Just take them down. No matter what it takes." This was said with a glance at Vision who nodded.

T'Challa stood, pulling on his mask. "He'll know we're coming."

Tony nodded, his suit assembling itself. He left the face plate down, his black eye obvious against his unusually pale face.

"Good. It will be more satisfying when I tear Barnes apart."

Natasha glanced down at the floor, but said nothing as she readied her Widow's Bites.

The team headed for the exit, weapons ready, masks on, suits assembled. Vision was the last to the door, preceded by Stark, who hesitated before leaving.

"Vision, she might be there. Be ready."

Vision stared into Stark's dark brown eyes, his gaze unwavering. "I know. I'm ready."

He asked himself, as he flew behind the red and gold suit, when he had gotten so good at lying.

Author's note:

Hope you enjoyed it!