A/N – This takes place after Civil War and before the events of Infinity War. Italics are memories of past events. Enjoy!

Updated 4/9/2018 - Added content, expanded scenes, fixed errors

"How did you find us?" The relieved prisoners couldn't resist asking as they settled into the safety of their jet.

"I can't explain it," Steve shrugged. "The coordinates were sent to me by an unknown number."

"Could it be a trap?" Clint eyed him suspiciously. "We have no allies that would do that for us."

"I don't think so. We've made it this far," he assured them. "Let's count it as a blessing."

"I need coordinates," Natasha called from the pilot's seat. "Where too first?"

"Let's go to my home," Clint spoke eagerly. "You guys can lay low for a while."

"You can drop me off where it's most convenient." Wanda finally spoke. She held her arms close to her body, as if the jacket still confined her.

"Wanda, you can stay with us." Steve gave her a friendly gaze.

"Thank you. Thank you for everything." She met his eyes. "But, I will make my own way."

Empty. That was the term Wanda decided best described her heart as she sat upon a cold bench in the streets of Edinburgh. Steve and Natasha had offered a spot by their side, but she was done pretending. She was not a hero. How could she be? People feared her and memories of destruction that stemmed from her decisions was a constant reminder that their fear was justified.

She had helped create Ultron, helping him evolve into the monster he was. In a way, she was directly responsible for Pietro's death. She had planted the seed in Stark's mind that began the robot's creation. Then, after she convinced herself that she fought for the people, she had lost control of her powers and threw that bomb into a building full of citizens. Countless lives, innocent lives, had been lost because of her.

The memories taunted her and she folded her legs up to hide her face within her knees. The new red hair folded around her, forming a shield from onlookers. Though the streets were quiet this time of night, she still could not bear the thought of someone seeing her so weak.

She hated the new color of her hair. Natasha had been kind to help dye it, to make her unrecognizable amongst the crowd. Yet, the color was unnatural and it felt so foreign. However, the experience had warmed her as Natasha offered her help. The way she ran her fingers through her hair felt familiar and comforting. Wanda's parents had been taken from her so young, she had practically forgotten the feel of a mother's touch. Of course, no one could replace them, but Nat's guidance had meant more than the rogue would ever know.

"Are you alright?" Nat had asked.

"I'm fine," Wanda replied weakly.

"You know I don't believe that," she smirked.

"I don't want to talk about it," she whispered. Though Wanda appreciated the intentions, the question frustrated her nonetheless. Of course she was not alright. Spots of her neck were still tender from the collar's sharp bite. She was still afraid to make any quick movements, expecting to receive a jolt at any moment. She snuck a glance at the woman tending to her hair and Natasha's frown brought a swift blow to her heart. She wondered if an apology was necessary, but she feared it would only act as an invitation to more questions. Questions that she did not want to answer. "Are you still searching for Dr. Banner?"

Nat eyed her suspiciously and immediately she regretted her choice in conversation. She tried to stay out of people's heads, though sometimes their thoughts were too loud to ignore. Hers always seemed to revolve around the lost doctor.

"I keep my ears open for leads, but after all this time… I don't think he will be found unless he decides he wants to be." Her voice was strong, but Wanda knew better. "You've been looking inside my head?"

"Sometimes it's hard to control," she admitted. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's alright," she assured. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Is there a guy?" She smiled as she asked the question. Wanda scuffed before shaking her head.

"I can see into people's minds. Any man that has shown interest only desired my body." She told her. It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't the full truth.

"I'm sorry," she replied sadly, but Wanda merely shrugged.

"Don't be." She knew there were others with good intentions and that those she encountered did not resemble all men. There had been one pure in mind that she had wondered about. So pure in fact, that he could wield the hammer of Thor.

When the Avengers first brought her to the compound she had desired solitude. To mourn for Pietro in silence until death finally claimed her. Vision appeared to be the only one to notice the severity of her pain. She could hear the other's thoughts and their worries, but they all assumed it would simply pass and that one day she would magically heal. She never faulted them, in fact she preferred being left alone during such a time. However, she couldn't help but wonder if she would have survived those dark days without Vision's persistence. He had annoyed her at first; bringing meals and waiting for her to finish them before leaving, entering her room unannounced when he could hear her crying, and listening to her when she finally began to speak of the tortures she had been through. Much of their time had been spent together and her growing fondness of the synthetic man became increasingly difficult to ignore. However, she decided long ago that she had to. He was free of all evil, of all sin. She was not worthy for him.

Then she recalled that he was continents away and was likely never to see him again. He had let them take her to that terrible place. She had waited for him to come rescue her, calling for him in her mind every time the guards ignited the electricity at her neck. Every day she waited. Yet, he never came.

"Alright, you're done. What do you think?"

Natasha turned the chair so she could face the mirror. Wanda met her reflection and hated finding someone else staring back. It seemed like such a small thing to be upset about, yet something inside her snapped as sorrow consumed her.

She cried into her hands at the memory, as quietly as she could manage. Everything had fallen apart. She missed her brother. She missed the friends she had gained over the past year, only to have lost after the Accords. Though betrayal still clouded her mind, she also missed him.

However, she couldn't rid herself from the resentment she felt. Driven entirely by logic, he had allowed harm to come to her. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't his responsibility to protect her and that she didn't need protecting, but all attempts to forgive him were overpowered. She had wanted him to protect her. She had wanted him to for once in his young life abandon what made sense and to find her worth more than his logical code. However, she was not worthy. She didn't need a magic hammer to know that much. The knowledge hurt and she begged to be seen differently.

"Are you alright?"

The voice jolted her upright. Panic swiftly coursed through her body as she prepared for a fight, but the man who sat beside her only viewed her with kind eyes. Feeling embarrassed, she frantically wiped the tears resting at her cheeks.

"I am fine, thank you." She assumed her answer would please him and that he would be on his way. Yet, to her discomfort he remained on the bench. For some time, she took out her phone and pretended to be busy but his continued stare began to unnerve her. She met his gaze, searching for any sign of familiarity but found no memory of this man. "Are you lost?"

"Not anymore," he replied. Fear rose within her. Not because she was incapable of defending herself, but if she had to fight her cover would be blown and all of Steve's work to provide her a safe place would be lost. Rising to her feet, she nodded to the man and hoped he wouldn't follow. "Wanda?"

She hadn't even made it two steps before she stopped dead in her tracks. She spun around to look at him again. The voice… the voice was familiar, but it did not match his appearance.

"I do not know you," she narrowed her eyes. "I have never seen you before."

"Look again," he rose to meet her. Never-before had she felt so frozen, so unable to act or speak. He stepped closer to her and waited patiently for her to function. Her hand moved to his forehead, where her thumb scraped the center. A yellow light ignited beneath the skin until the familiar gem revealed itself to her.

"Vision?" She gasped as a wave of emotions flowed through her. "How?"

"I thought my natural form would draw too much attention," he explained. "So I formed this disguise."

She stepped away from him and straightened her posture.

"Why are you here?" She asked coldly.

"I have been searching for you," he frowned at her change of tone.

"Are you going to arrest me? To send me back to that awful place?" She hadn't realized how much anger existed for his lack of action. In her right mind, it seemed irrational to cast so much blame upon him. However, the memories of the guards with their cruel words, the unnecessary restraints, and the painful tools they used to subdue her all fanned her uncontainable fury.

"Wanda," he stepped forward but she was quick to push him away. Her hands ignited with power and she gave him a threatening glance.

"You know I can overpower you," she reminded. "Or did I not send you deep enough into the earth?"

"I would never inflict harm upon you," he sounded so certain.

"You already have. Why didn't you stop them?" A tear slipped silently to her cheek. "You promised you'd protect me if they came… You lied to me."

His face remained expressionless as her words assaulted him. That was what hurt the most. He showed no sign of pity or regret. Instead, he remained perfectly still as if her pain meant nothing.

"Say something," she finally demanded.

"I am sorry," he stated simply. The lack of emotion disappointed her. Before the Accords she was so certain that he cared for her, yet now it seemed that all their time together meant nothing. That he didn't even care. Then again, why would he? Why should he care? She was not his responsibility. She had known the consequences of helping Steve, yet the stubbornness within refused to accept the logic of it. Instead, she welcomed the hurt anyways.

She sighed her anger away and lowered her defensive hands, knowing he wouldn't understand her feelings. Vision was driven by logic alone and logic told him that his actions were just. There had been a time when she believed he could be shown why it was not always the right path, that exceptions to the rules could exist. Now, after all that had happened she couldn't see the point in teaching him.

"Where is your place of residence?" he broke the silence. "I could escort you there safely."

"Wherever I can find a dry spot. Besides, I don't need you to escort me." She reminded him.

"You have been taking refuge on the streets?" His eyes widened slightly.

"I am not a child, Vision. I can protect myself."

"Yes, I am aware. I simply meant to offer my help, not to offend your pride." He frowned at her tone.

"Do you have money?" she asked.

"I accessed Mr. Stark's account before…"

"You stole from Tony?" She raised her brow with a smile.

"I…" his head bowed in shame. "I would prefer to use the term borrowed."

"Come on," she suppressed a chuckle. "Let's go find a hotel."

"One room?" The clerk asked.

"Two please," Wanda requested before laying Visions' stolen money on the counter. They were handed the keys and she carried her small bag to the rooms they had rented. She wouldn't admit it, but she was relieved to be sleeping in a bed again. Sneaking around the streets were risky and certainly didn't warrant her any privacy. She had almost begun to regret declining Steve's money he'd offered, but she hadn't been sure how much he had available for himself. When they reached the rooms, she handed Vision a key.

"Make sure you use that. If you phase threw you'll blow my cover." She warned him. He nodded with a frown. Glancing at the key, he analyzed the card before understanding how to use it.

She had finally begun to soften to him on their walk over. After all, he had snuck away from Tony, "borrowed" his money, and traveled all this way to find her. She knew she had been too harsh, but she could not find the courage to apologize. Not yet. Not when there was still so much to discuss. Before he stepped into his room, she stopped him at the door.

"Vis." His gaze returned to her. "I'm glad you're here."

She woke from a nightmare. Her troubled mind had a way of making them seem real. Red smoke surrounded her hands and she feared its presence. All attempts to be rid of the magic only fed the terror and in turn fed her powers. She was losing control of herself and people tended to suffer when she lost control.

The room was dark as she stumbled from the bed. Her cloudy mind did not allow her to go far as she fell against the wall. Curling her knees to her chest, she hid the hands safely between them. Tears coated her cheeks while she gasped for breath.

She felt the presence of another come to stand before her. She glanced up at Vision through watery eyes.

"Stay away from me," she warned. "I am dangerous."

He ignored her plea and remained standing for a few moments. His eyes watched her carefully, calculating an appropriate action.

"I have told you before, I am not afraid of you." He answered softly before moving to sit beside her. She shivered as she felt his arm rub against hers. He waited a moment before reaching out with his hand. Pausing for just a second at the edge of the red flame before covering her hand with his.

Minutes passed as they sat there together. Her shivers slowly began to fade, as did the light of her powers. She breathed heavily from exhaustion as the tension finally fled from her mind. The feel of his hand reignited the flames of her emotions. Forgetting the fears that she was unworthy of his affection, forgetting the anger that she felt for him, she folded into his side and buried her face at the base of his neck. His arms hesitantly moved around her, holding her to him. At her back, his fingers moved gently along her spine, bringing an even greater sense of calmness. Eyes far too heavy to keep open, she welcomed sleep within the safety of his arms.

The days began to pass swiftly as her heart began to heal. She showed Vision the city, brought him shopping for clothes, and showed him the countryside. She began to laugh; she began to smile. They returned his key many days ago, as he was never in his own room. At night, Vision would sit near her bed to watch over her and the nightmares had faded with him standing guard.

"Shall we stop for dinner?" He asked on their way back to the apartment. "You must be hungry."

She nodded and they entered the first restaurant they found. It was a cozy place full of rowdy people. A band played while people danced nearby. It reminded her of places her brother would take her so long ago. He would bring her to the dance floor before finding a girl to leave her for. She never minded for she had known it made him happy. Though, it always ended with her staring in wonder as she imagined if she'd ever find her own partner.

As always, the waitress stared in confusion as Vision ordered nothing from the menu. At first, Wanda would order him a small side dish to avoid stares and suspicion, but as time passed her paranoia that they would be recognized faded.

"Why do they do that?" his eyes stared over her shoulder. Her gaze turned and she smiled at the sight.

"It's called dancing," she answered as she paid for her food.

"Yes, I am familiar with the activity. Though I don't understand it's purpose." His brow furrowed in the way it usually did when he could not find the answer on his own. She did not tell him, but she enjoyed being the source of his questions. It made her feel valuable.

She stared at him for a moment, admiring the innocence of his expression. He had not noticed the stares women would give him as he walked among the crowds these past weeks. He had no understanding that he was attractive to them and that he was attractive to her. Though she missed the uniqueness of his red skin and striped body, she realized she did not mind what form he took. She did however realize that she enjoyed the way other women looked at him, knowing that his attention remained fully on her alone.

"I'll show you," she answered boldly. He glanced at her in confusion as she stood from the table, holding her hand out for him. His gaze moved between her eyes and hand before she chuckled. "Give me your hand."

He did as she asked and she pulled him from his seat. Enjoying the feel of her hand within his, she led him through the crowd before turning to face him. She silently thanked Pietro for teaching her the steps so long ago.

Vis looked terrified as she guided his hand to her waist, taking the other in her own. His eyes were wider than she had ever seen, causing a moment's hesitation before stepping in closer.

"Relax, Vis." She teased as she stepped into him. His eyes were calculating, searching for words he wished to speak. She could see a battle raging within his mind and it tempted her curiosity to read him. "It's just me. You don't have to be nervous."

She spoke the words, though they did not match her own courage. Suddenly, it was her turn to be bashful. Realizing that this was the closest she had ever come to anyone other than her brother she attempted to swallow the nervousness. Her face became warm, but it was too late to return to their seats.

They moved slowly together, both wanting to speak but unable to find any words to fill the moment. Glancing over his shoulder, she focused on the other pairs around them in attempt to hide from his stare. However, the chaste way he held her waist and the warmth of her hand within his made it impossible to ignore.

"Do you understand?" She cleared her throat before speaking. His fierce gaze electrified her heart and it pounded against her chest. She was desperate to know his thoughts, to know if he shared this intense desire. He was always perfect at remaining seemingly emotionless. It was the reason the others struggled to see him more than a machine. Yet, in that moment, his expression laid everything bare before her. Any doubts she had of his ability to feel vanished as his eyes consumed her.

"I believe I do." The tone of his voice surprised her. It was low and full of… passion? Her fingers tightened around his arm as she became entranced in his gaze. The people around them became a blur until it was only the two of them.

It seemed odd to her: it was she who was meant to teach him human emotions, not the other way around. Yet the look in his eyes, how they acted as if she was the only being that mattered, sprouted something new. She had known love before from her family, but this strange intensity was so foreign. Yet, she welcomed the emotion. The feeling melted away all sorrows of her past and for just this moment, she had forgotten the unfair events in her life that had caused so much pain. The warmth in her chest became unbearable. Filled with a fierce desire that almost felt painful, she could see only one solution to free herself from this longing. Her mind was no longer her own as she found herself moving closer. Twisting her fingers to entwine within his, her eyes closed when she was just inches from his face. Anticipation flooded her veins, but he did not respond as she expected. Instead, he pulled away.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his body free himself from her. Betrayed by the emotions she so willingly welcomed just seconds ago, rejection swiftly doused the flame in her heart; drowning it with the pain of sorrow and embarrassment. The hurt was unlike anything she had felt before, nearly rivaling the mourning for her brother. She swallowed the lump in her throat before hiding her gaze in the floor.

"Let's go home," she managed to speak without falter. She felt him follow her from the building and instead of his usual place at her side, he remained a step behind her as they walked to the apartment. She was thankful for this as she quietly wiped the tears before they could even leave her eyes.

The walk home had been silent. Still full of hurt and embarrassment, she felt like a fool. She should have known better than to think someone as pure as him could share feelings with someone like her. Yet, the way he had looked at her with such adoration… she could not understand.

"Wanda?" Vision called for her softly, but she ignored his plea. Afraid that her voice would betray her. "You are angry with me?"

"No," she met his eyes softly. "You've done nothing wrong."

"You have not spoken since we departed the restaurant," he pointed.

"Don't worry about me, Vision. It is my own problem, not yours." She responded plainly without meeting his eyes. She tossed her coat on a chair before locking herself in the bathroom, turning the water of the shower on before finally releasing the pain. She was tired of crying. It had happened far too often the past year since losing her brother and she was tired of it. Yet the heartache was too great and she released the tears she was barely able to contain this far. Thinking a shower and some time alone would ease her heartbreak, she took her time before finding the courage to step back into the room.

He was standing in the place she'd left him, staring blankly into space. His attention snapped to her as she entered.

"I'm going to bed," she said plainly. "You can leave a light on if you want to read."

"Do you believe that I am void of emotion?" he asked. Wanda glanced at him in surprise at the unexpected question.

"You know I don't think that," she answered. Vision merely lowered his gaze.

"Mr. Stark does not share your understanding. Nor any others for that matter." His gaze remained on the floor. "For some time, I believed he was right in his way of thinking. That I was driven by logic alone, with no room for human emotions. Yet, I find myself in great conflict."

Wanda watched him, confused by his confession. His expression molded into one that she'd never seen on him before. Shock overtook her as she noticed the small movement in his body, movement she had believed he was incapable of. He was shivering.

"Vis, what is it?" She pressed as she walked to his trembling form. It was unlike him to avoid eye contact and eve more unlike him to breath so heavily, as if his synthetic lungs actually needed the air. He would always answer her, yet in this moment the seconds passed with only silence between them. She reached for his chin, lifting his face with her gentle fingertips. "I can't help you if you don't speak to me."

"I… I am confused. I do not know how to formulate the words." He stared at her helplessly. He shook his head in distress. "I feel too many of them."

"Too many of what?" she asked, but he could only manage a pained expression as he continued to shake his head helplessly.

She slowly brought her hand up until her palm rested at the center of his forehead. He flinched at the contact but did not pull away. Meeting his eyes, she wordlessly requested permission to see into his mind. His eyes closed tightly before nodding. He leaned into the touch and she was surprised by the warmth of his skin. Moving her hand back slightly, the scarlet flames connected her to his gem. She was unprepared for the memories he shared with her and gasped as his emotions overwhelmed her.

She felt his guilt…

It plagued his thoughts as he gazed at the fallen Colonel. Mr. Stark's betrayed expression bore into the depths of his soul as they received the diagnosis of Colonel Rhodes' paralysis.

"How did this happen?" he practically sneered.

"I became distracted," Vision spoke naturally, masking the despair hidden within his synthetic heart.

"I didn't think that was possible?"

"Neither did I."

She felt his loneliness…

The days passed where Mr. Stark continued to ignore his presence. When he would come, his eyes bore angrily at him and he found that it was far more pleasant to be ignored rather than to be despised. Colonel Rhodes was more understanding, though his thoughts were easy to read. He knew his intent was not to hurt, but his sorrowed eyes cast blame onto him for the loss of movement.

Days passed and they spent less and less time at the compound. Eventually, it was as if he'd been forgotten entirely.

He found himself moving to her room. Wanda always helped him understand human senses. He would go to her when his heart presented an unknown emotion, yet she was not here. He almost wished to hear the frustrated groans she would emit when he used to enter through the walls. Instead, there was nothing. He needed her presence; needed her to explain the discomfort he felt. Yet, she was not. He stood in the silence of her room, wishing so desperately he could return to the time before there was so much chaos.

She felt his pain…

It echoed the distance of the hole his body had created above him. Wanda had used his fears of the unknown against him as she took command of the mind stone, increasing his density as he was thrust deeply into the earth. For hours he remained there; puzzled and betrayed by she who he so desperately wished to protect.

She had resisted Clint's pleas to leave the compound, he was trying to force her to join him. That is how he analyzed the situation at first. He had tried to protect her from Clint and was surprised to see her use her magic against him. He needed time to think, time to analyze. He would have let her go, he realized this now. He would not deny her request to leave. Yet, she hadn't given him the chance. The physical pain inflicted on his skin was manageable, but the pain in his chest paralyzed him.

She felt his regret…

The realization that his decision to aid Mr. Stark's request to keep her confined was wrong and it tore at his insides. His loyalty to Tony and his choices had driven her from him. He despised himself for holding her back, for restricting her freedom. It was wrong, he knew that now. He could not take it back and he could not see how she could come to forgive.

She felt his anger…

He could not describe the agony that fell upon him as the officers detained her. They were rough in their movements as they forced restraints upon her wrists. Her faced scrunched when they tightened them excessively. His fingers clenched into his palm as he fought against the fierce desire to tear the men away.

"Where are they taking them?" He heard Natasha ask.

"Who cares," Tony answered in his irrational state of mind. He knew the man would regret the unpleasant behavior when he managed to calm himself, but Mr. Stark's attitude only amplified this rage boiling within him.

Wanda managed a final glance in his direction and his heart twisted painfully as he witnessed the fear in her expression. Something frightening was happening inside him. His logic battled the fierce desire to go to her; to rescue her from this torment. It would be easy to overtake the men and easier yet to tear the cuffs from her wrists. He could save her from the cage they would undoubtedly place her in. Yet, even still she would not be free. She would be forced into hiding and he along with her. How could she be happy with him alone? After all that had happened, he knew she did not deserve such a life. No. He must handle this through legal matter and work on freeing her entirely.

However, as the door of the plane closed and she faded from sight, he could not help but fear his choice was wrong.

She felt his sickness…

The monitors were easy to hack, though the ability to view them was far more difficult to stomach. It was her. Restrained from all movement and collared by a wicked device meant to inflict pain at any sight of insubordination. The guards spat at her cell, shouting "witch" in derision. She remained strong amidst their presence, though after they passed only he could see the silent drips of water slipping from her eyes and down her cheek. Unable to wipe the tears; unable to drown her sorrow.

A feeling emerged within him, deep into the pit where a stomach should be. Illness was not possible for him to contract, yet his synthetic mind commanded it to be so. The discomfort was deserved. He had let them take her. He had let them hurt her.

She felt his defiance…

The action was wrong in the eyes of the law. The thought dawned on him as he transmitted the location of the hidden prison to Captain Rogers. Logic scolded his entire being, yet a foreign part of him reigned supreme. His heart burned like fire as he disabled the alarms when the Captain stormed the raft. He guided him through the maze of the cells and watched intently as he came to her rescue. Steve ripped the cursed collar from her neck and freed her body of restraints. She cried into the Captain's chest, filling him with regret that it was not he who held her in comfort.

When they were free, he glanced in the mirror and began to sculpt his appearance. Covering the unnatural red skin until the disguise was suitable for the public. Tony would not notice his absence for many days, he was sure of it. The thought both pained and relieved him as he boarded the plane. He would not be followed and he would not be missed.

She felt his love…

The emotion had begun long ago, though never understood. The growing desire to be near her, phasing through walls to see her, learning the strange ways of human social interactions and how his actions appeared odd to the others. She was patient with him, for that he was grateful while the others would simply laugh and mock. Though he carefully hid it, their actions had caused him hurt.

Wanda was his guardian. She stood for him when they took their jokes too far. She assured him he was valuable and that he was more than just a "robot" as the others referred to him. She managed to show him how to feel emotion and it brought him comfort. She was his angel.

She frowned more than the others. It was a fact only he seemed to notice and it troubled him deeply.

"I didn't ask to be saved." She had angrily told him once, shortly after her brother's funeral. She would often forget the need for food and became reckless in her training. At first it was simply a duty to heal her broken heart, to make sure she survived the torment she had been enduring. Though, as the weeks passed and she began to smile, it became obsession. He listened for her at night, ready to go to her when memories of her family's passing haunted her. When she felt pain, he would bear it with her. He researched ways to spread happiness. He would cook for her, help her train, read with her, and whatever activities she took interest in. It was exhausting to understand a human's pain, but the smiles she would kindly gift him with made all efforts worth the trouble.

It was her birthday. Tony described the importance of such an occasion and that is was custom to provide a gift on such a date. He researched items that humans would be pleased to receive, yet nothing seemed to fit. He did not want to fail the task and for days he wrestled for an answer.

When the day came, the event only confused him further. By nighttime, several of the team had consumed a large sum of alcohol. Miss Romanov slept upon the couch, while Sam and Clint had fallen asleep on the floor. The sight appeared comical to Wanda, who besides himself and Captain Rogers managed to remain sober through the night.

With a pen in hand, she drew imagery upon the two's skin.

"Americans cannot seem to handle their drinking," she laughed.

"I do not understand the allure to such an activity," he looked at them in confusion. "It causes great illness, does it not?"

"It can help distract you from pain," she shrugged. "But I have found that the consequences far outweigh the benefits. I think they will feel the same way in the morning."

She smiled as she capped the pen. She rose from the floor, covering the fallen members in blankets before walking towards her room.

"Goodnight Vis," she told him as she walked by. He followed and stopped her before she entered her room.

"Wanda." She turned to face him. He removed the small package from his pocket before presenting it to her. "I was told it is customary to provide a gift."

"You did not have to do that." Her words sparked a fright in him, fearing that he had made a mistake. However, he was gifted with a smile as she accepted the package and peeled the paper that Miss Potts had helped him to wrap. The idea baffled him to have to wrap the item, yet he did not protest their strange tradition. She turned the frame and froze as she gazed upon the faces of her family. The photograph had been difficult to locate, but he had finally managed to print a copy. A frown appeared and her eyes widened at the present. "How did you get this?"

"I accessed the Sokovian records…" She interrupted him with a strange gesture. She walked into him, throwing her arms around his neck. He froze at the contact, uncertain of what action to take. He had seen humans hold each other, but never did he believe that he would partake in the human activity.

"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder. He wondered if he should bring his arms up, to contribute to her hug, but before he could act she pulled away to meet his gaze. "Thank you for saving me."

He feared his body was malfunctioning as the heart within his chest emitted a new feeling. Her words brought a sense of completeness and he wondered if his task of caring for her had ended successfully. However, he knew the status would change nothing. His fondness of the young woman had grown exponentially and he would continue his work to bring her joy.

"You are welcome," he finally responded. She bid him a final goodnight before disappearing through the door, clutching the photograph to her chest. He had no concept of time as he stood outside her door, confused by the warmth that had grown within his chest.

Nights became routine where they would sit and watch motion picture films together. Watching the lives of other people, characters as Wanda called them, was a strange concept to him. However, he admired the affect it had on her. Taking her from the world for just a moment, to transport her in another life. It distracted her from the loss of her brother and because of that he would sit with her as she was entertained. He would ask her questions and she tried her best to answer them.

"Why does that woman run? Based on my calculations her chances of survival are far greater if she faced her pursuer."

"She is scared. People tend to forget common sense when they are afraid."

Each movie brought new questions.

"Why do they perform that action? It occurs in many the films we have watched." He finally asked one night.

"They're kissing," she answered with a blush. "When two people have feelings for each other they tend to do that."

"Why?" The activity made no sense to him. It seemed unsanitary and unnecessary. There were many other ways he knew humans would show affection to one another, so why resort to connecting the lips?

"I don't know." He could see that the subject brought her discomfort. "I have never tried it before. I'm afraid I can't give you a proper answer."

Often, when the night grew late she would rest against his shoulder. It terrified him at first and he wasn't sure the proper protocol to follow. He could phase from the couch, leaving her to rest by herself. However, he quickly found that he was unable leave her. It was the heat of her skin that paralyzed him, preventing him from choosing the logical course of action. It spread a fire throughout his chest, bringing the strangest sensations. He would remain perfectly still as she slept. Long after the movie ended he continued to watch her, for it was in those moments where she finally seemed at peace. Dreams masked the horrors of her past and occasionally she smiled against his shoulder at whatever pleasing image her mind gifted her.

Watching her sleep grew part of the routine. It both confused and terrified him as he grew anxious for night to come so that he could once again feel the weight of her head upon his shoulder and to feel the heat of her body soak into his own. He could not recall the exact night he discovered his answer to the question that remained unanswered, but the desire to feel her lips against his grew stronger each night.

"Why didn't you stop them? You promised you'd protect me if they came… You lied to me."

His chest twisted in agony. It took every ounce of his strength to mask his pain from her. He did not deserve the right to feel sadness. Not while she laid her own sorrows bare before him.

"Say something."

He feared he would malfunction if he opened his mouth. That these feelings would break him in an instant. There were many things he had wanted to say; that he had thought of her every moment since they parted, that he regretted not flying her to safety before the agents arrived to arrest them, and most of all that he had deeply desired to inflict harm upon those who had caused her so much pain. Yet, he found that he could not for she spoke truthfully. He had broken his promise and failed to protect her.

"I am sorry."

Her screams tormented him as his fists pressed against the wall. Another nightmare had attacked her, but he remembered her teachings from so long ago. When she had scolded him for stepping through walls to visit her, explaining the importance of knocking at the door. She had made it clear that it was not right to enter a closed room without first meriting an invitation. Given the coldness in which she had greeted him with these past few nights, he did not want to push her further away. However, as the screams turned to cries he could no longer stay away.

He stepped into the room to find her cowering beside the dresser. Her face was hidden within her knees while her hands lit ablaze with power. He remained frozen in front of her until finally she lifted her eyes to find him.

"Stay away from me. I am dangerous."

She was not angry as he feared she would be, yet given this new appearance he would have preferred to endure her wrath opposed to her pain. He understood her fears of the powers that flowed through her veins. They were the same fears hidden within him and his own abilities.

"I have told you before, I am not afraid of you." He reminded before moving beside her. He hadn't meant to sit so close, but she did not pull away when their bodies touched. Her skin trembled against him. With an uncertain hand, he reached for hers. Pausing for just a moment when his fingers reached the edge of her magic before taking her hand within his.

The light did not disappear right away, but he could feel her shivering subside and her breathing became natural. When the red flames vanished, she cowered into him. A river of emotions washed over him as she nudged into his neck. He hesitated before bringing his arm around her back to offer comforting strokes. It was different than those nights they'd spent together on Mr. Stark's couch. She did not simply drift to sleep, no. No, this time she was aware of her actions.

She slept awkwardly against him and he feared her spine would regret the position in the morning. However, as always he never dared to disturb her peaceful slumber. Instead, he remained there joyful to bring her comfort, though frightened of the emotions that fueled this fire.

His chest lit ablaze as her small hand guided him through the tables. His mind raced with the onslaught of new sensations when she moved his hand to her hip, taking the other within hers. Her eyes, so close to his, locked him in an inescapable trance. Social structure still managed to confuse him, though one factor that he had found easy to understand was beauty. Her entire being helped him to see what true beauty was. It held him to her as they swayed strangely amongst the crowd.

Their proximity nearly caused his skin to shiver and he feared it would do just that. She had been this close when she fell against him in her slumber and again when she sought comfort, but this was different. She was awake, no longer in distress, and aware of her actions. Yet, she encouraged his nearness anyways. Logic told him to run. He was not human, he could not be worthy of her affections.

"Do you understand?" She asked.

He thought of her proximity and how it awakened new emotions and strengthened those he had already experienced. Though overwhelmed with new desires, he could not deny that she had helped him to understand.

"I believe I do."

Unsure if it was merely his imagination or if her face had actually begun to inch closer, his heart reacted strangely anyways. He didn't understand it. The organ was synthetic. It was not supposed to beat as a human's would, yet it felt as if it pounded deep within his body. The fire in his chest battled against the logic in his mind. The emotions overwhelmed him and he feared that he would begin to tremble if she moved any closer. She became so near that he could feel her breath upon his lips. The sensation terrified him and in a moment of fright he did the only logical thing he could understand. He stepped away.

He thought the distance would dispel the pain within him, though logic betrayed him once again as it only grew worse. He wished to return to her: to feel her small hand within his, to feel her body so close to his. However, he could see hurt in her eyes and her cheeks began to redden. He sought his brain for words or the proper action of how to fix the damage he had created, but logic continued to fail him. With a heavy heart, he followed her into the cold night.

Wanda broke the connection with a gasp. His own emotions collided with hers, feeding her already hungry heart. Her eyes were wet from the overwhelming feelings and as she gazed up to the troubled man, she was met with yet another surprise.

Creeping from Vision's own eye was a solidary tear. She didn't recall commanding her hand to wipe it away, though her thumb moved on its own accord to graze his skin. The other hand came to hold his face. He moved into the contact, pressing himself into the warmth of her hand. His own moved to cover hers. Her racing heart melted as he finally opened his eyes. His hands found her face as he came to hold her gently, thumbs grazing her cheeks.

"I've always known love to be illogical. It is distracting and dangerous. Yet, I do not know another term to fulfill my emotions." His eyes bore into hers, causing her to shiver under the intense gaze. "I believe that I am in love with you."

Another tear escaped her eyes, with a heart so full as she took in his words. It pounded inside her chest with uncontrollable desire and she wondered if it would burst. With both desperation and newfound confidence, she closed the space between them.

She expected him to tense at the contact, to try and back away out of fear of these new emotions. Instead, he pressed firmly into the kiss and held her tightly against his body. Pouring more passion against her lips than she believed him capable of. The pain in her chest subsided, satisfied with his touch. Her hands caged the sides of his face as she deepened the contact.

He loved her. She was loved. The realization brought an overwhelming sense of joy and she broke from him to bury herself in his chest. His hands adjusted to hold her and she could feel his lips at the top of her head.

"You are sad?" he asked in worry. She laughed against his chest before raising her gaze to meet his. Gripping his face, she held his eyes to hers.

"I have never felt happier," she promised him with another kiss. "I love you."

She took pleasure in his smile.

"I did not believe that was possible," he admitted quietly.

"You don't think highly enough of yourself," she frowned.

"I share a similar belief of you." He stated seriously, caressing the sides of her face with his thumbs. "Perhaps it is a concept we must both learn to improve."

"Yes, together." She pulled herself to him once again and smiled against his lips. The emptiness she had once felt was packed with newfound love. For the first time in months, she felt truly happy.

A/N – I feel the need to explain that I love Tony! Though I do feel that he felt a bit of resentment for Vision at the end of Civil War. That is the only reason he was written the way he was, it is not because I dislike his character. I think he would snap out of it as soon as he noticed Vision was gone.

I am also new to writing in the third person, so critiques are welcome.