#svad

He gave the power to both his children. They both took well to it, the boy able to run faster than the eye could see and the girl able to manipulate matter, see people’s thoughts, and alter reality itself. It suited the man that his daughter was the one to receive the greater and subtler abilities. He told no one of what he had done and commanded his children to do the same.

One day tragedy struck. The boy fell ill, his fever ran high, and he was gone within two days. Not even his father’s great magic could save him. His daughter mourned her brother’s loss terribly. The man was sad for a time, but he considered the death of his son a tolerable loss. After all, he still had his daughter, who was the more skilled and a worthier successor.

The man eventually grew tired of his daughter’s grief. He thought it was extravagant, but he held his tongue. Over the years her grief did ease as she grew in stature and her father taught her more about how to use her powers, always reserving his own secrets for himself. When he was not training her, he kept his daughter merely as an ornament in his hall. He was also a cautious man, so he encouraged her to use her gifts only as he saw fit. He always made sure she knew whence her gifts came and that they could be taken away again.

But one day he realized that he could not keep her with him forever. He began to think on how he could best control whom she might marry. Eventually, the solution came to him, and a slow smile spread across his face. He determined that it was time to take advantage of her powers. The only thing that remained was to ensure his daughter’s willing compliance.

One day he gathered all his landed friends and their sons, for he would not see his daughter married to a lesser man. He carefully arranged their seating from largest to smallest plot of land, with himself at the head, to be certain that everyone knew his place. He did not even pay any attention to the workman from the local smithy who was fixing one of the suits of armor that lined his great hall to show what forces he could outfit at need. He commanded his daughter to sit at his side, silent and smiling and wearing her finest dress.

“My friends, you have seen my daughter grow into a beautiful young woman. It is now time for her to be married, but she cannot marry just anyone. I must know that whoever is to wed her is clever and persistent and worthy of her many charms. So I have devised a test. Starting tomorrow, every day for the next year there will be a cat with a key tied to its collar somewhere in the area.” He held up a small box. “Whoever is able to capture the cat, completely unharmed, will receive this box, which contains a treasure far greater than its size, and my daughter’s hand in marriage. If after one year no one succeeds in trapping the cat, my daughter will be free to marry whomever she pleases.” The man only offered that concession because he was confident that one year was sufficient time for one of Wanda’s suitors to catch her.

This suited his daughter, who had equal faith in her wits and her ability to evade capture. She did not like the stares and smiles of the young men on offer. They had all grown up together and she had no desire to wed any of them. But she smiled and smiled to please her father, at least for now. She did start briefly when she met the eyes the workman who was at the edge of the room, but he quickly looked away.

“May the best man win, and remember, no harm is to come to the cat. If a hair on its head is damaged, the deal is forfeit. Now let us eat.” The young men all sought her favor throughout the meal, trying to incline her toward them. They made would-be witty remarks and gave her airy compliments, though none of them had ever tried to get to know her. She bided her time and smiled and smiled. Let them think that she could be won over.

After everyone left, her father told her to rest up for the next day. She complied, excited for the next day. For what her father had not revealed was that the cat he encouraged the young men to capture was Wanda herself. It suited her to obey, for her father never told her where exactly she should wander or for how long. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for to explore beyond the manor’s bounds with her father’s blessing.

The next morning her father reminded Wanda not to let herself be caught too easily, but to allow her suitors to see her cat form from time to time. She nodded, trying to hold back her excitement. She’d never had the luxury of having the whole day to herself. Her father affixed the magical cord that would adjust to her size and a bright silver key to her neck. He spelled it to remain in place for the entire year. When she underwent the familiar shrinking, she allowed herself a moment to adapt to being much lower to the ground. The smells were so much more intense and the colors muted.

Wanda spent the first few days exploring the forest outside the estate. For though she had wanted her freedom for so long, she found that she was shy about going into town. The sight of so many people was terrifying as well as thrilling. The young men had already laid some very obvious traps near her home that she easily avoided. She wondered if any of them had any inkling that the cat they are supposed to trap is the object of their affections. She doubted it.

Every night when she returned, her father seemed both relieved and disappointed, but it was very early. Wanda’s evenings were filled with needlework, music practice, and spinning, for her father would not have her forget her duties as the lady of the house, even though she was occupied during the day.

Over the next few weeks, Wanda began to explore farther afield. Her new vantage point allowed her to easily observe the goings on in the market or the village square from the shadows. She enjoyed the sights and sounds of all manner of people going about their days. When she saw one of her suitors, she backed deeper under an awning or ran the other direction.

On one such day, two of Wanda’s suitors surprised her. They saw her at the same moment and began to run toward her. She cursed the silver key that stood out bright against her dark fur. Fortunately, the men were more concerned with stopping each other from getting to her than apprehending her. She slipped easily between their legs and ran into the first open door she saw, hoping to avoid detection.

Wanda found herself in a small smithy. There was a fire pit built into the wall on one side of the space. The other side held shelves that contained a number of finished dishes, knives, and tools. The room appeared empty, so she let herself breathe for a minute.

Until a figure emerged from a curtain in the back of the shop. Wanda beheld the strangest man that she had ever seen. His skin was a deep red hue, interlaced with shiny silver patterns. She almost forgot that she was still being chased and backed out the door, but the man smiled at her in a friendly fashion. “Hello there.” His voice was slow and measured, just as his footsteps toward her were. Wanda still puffed up her fur and hissed at him, the cat’s instincts sometimes taking over when she was in this form.

The stranger paused. She saw his gaze fall to the key at her throat, but he only said, “I mean you no harm.”

She was still trying to think of what to do next when one of the young men who was hunting her cleared his throat at the door. “You, fellow, have you seen a small black cat come by here. It has a little key around its neck. I’ll see you get a handsome reward.” Wanda had to wonder why her pursuer did not have a more pronounced reaction to the blacksmith.

She prepared to run again when the strange man inevitably gave her away, but he surprised her again. “My apologies, sir, but I have seen no such cat.”

The man’s footsteps had no sooner stomped away before her other would-be suitor was at the door with the same question, also without a notable to reaction to the blacksmith’s strange appearance. The red man gave the same response. The suitor promised to sweeten the reward even more if he kept an eye out for her. “Of course, sir.” He walked away, apparently satisfied, but Wanda could detect the faintest trace of irony in her protector’s voice.

A few minutes later, he stepped outside. When he returned, he said, “Neither of those men are anywhere in sight.”

Wanda considered what to do. She knew that she was taking a risk revealing herself, but she desperately wanted to understand. So she moved deeper into a shadowed alcove at the back of the shop and resumed her usual human shape. The man’s eyes widened as he looked at her, but he was no more surprised than she was. For before her stood a tall man with blond hair and fair skin that she would easily pass over. No sign of red skin or unearthly markings. Though he did look somewhat familiar when she thought about it.

“Why didn’t you give me up to them and collect your reward? Did you know I was human? Why were you talking to me? Who are you really?”

He paused for only a moment before answering, “First, I did not like the look of them, and your mannerisms seemed to indicate that you did not wish to be found.” He ticked off the answers on his fingers. “Second, I did not know that you were human, but animals understand much more than most humans give them credit for. Finally, I am Vision, the blacksmith’s assistant.”

Wanda tried to rephrase her last question. “No, I mean, this is not your true form. Glamours do not work on cats.”

Vision bowed his head. “Ah, I have never had to explain myself to anyone before.” He paused again, raising his head but looking over her shoulder. She tried to catch his eye, for this was something she had experience with, but his gaze remained distant, his body perfectly still and tense.

She cleared her throat until he finally looked her in the eye, his expression set in a tight line. “Neither have I. No one but my father knows what I can do.”

Smiling slightly, Vision said, “I suppose I am in much the same position. My creator is the only one who knows my true identity.”

“Creator?” She did not understand. She knew there was something different about him, but he seemed as much a man as any other.

“Yes,” He paused for a moment, glancing at her before gathering himself, but his explanation flowed smoothly, as if he had practiced the words many times. “I am a construct of elemental magic and metal. Master Stark long wished to create life. His many experiments led to my birth, or creation if you prefer, and I have worked with him ever since.”

“That explains the skin and the disguise.” She was impressed at the seamless appearance of the glamour. He only gave a tight nod.

“Yes.” Vision shifted, just slightly, as if uncertain what she would do next. He glanced toward her and away several times while she tried to absorb what he said. The last time he did so Wanda recognized him.

“Wait! You were there on the day my father made the announcement.”

“Yes.” Guilt clouded his expression. “I suppose I should have told you that when you first transformed.”

She shook her head to deny the need for an apology, but something was bothering her. “Why didn’t you try to catch me yourself? I know the key caught your eye.”

“Well, when I saw you that day, you did not seem enthusiastic about the prospect of your father’s challenge.” His gaze cleared, and his stance relaxed.  “I had no wish to force a woman into marriage. When I saw you as the cat today, I felt even more strongly that such a betrothal was unwanted.”

“Oh.” Wanda had little experience with strangers, but somehow she was inclined to believe him. There was no artifice in his gaze, no hesitation in his words.

They fell silent for a time, and it was only when Wanda looked out the shop window that she realized how low the sun is in the sky. “I have to go.” He nodded. She was about to leave when she turned back abruptly. “May I come back tomorrow?”

Vision only blinked at her for a moment. “If you wish.” She smiled and gave him a little wave.

When she returned home for supper, her father asked why she looked so happy. Wanda merely shrugged and replied that it was a beautiful day. Her father was still suspicious but made no protest as she studiously turned to her chores.

The next day she donned her cat form again and traveled toward the blacksmith shop. She only transformed when Vision greeted her and she saw that the shop was empty. “Good morning, Wanda.”

“Good morning.”

They stared at each other for long moments. The awkwardness began to build so much that Wanda was tempted to leave. Vision finally said, “I’m sorry. I am not used to visitors. May I get you something to drink? Do you need anything else?” He smiled tentatively at her, and the look won her over.

“Don’t do anything special on my account. I’ll just sit here and watch you work if that’s alright.”

“By all means.” He gestured to a chair that was set up in the back of the shop.

And so it went. Over the next weeks Wanda’s visits became more and more regular. Sometimes she arrived early in the morning until they finished their lunch. Vision didn’t need to eat, but he took a midday rest and sat with her. Other days she would come in the afternoon and stay until she had to return home at sunset. She would spend the rest of the time exploring the town and the next town over.

The first time the blacksmith entered the shop while Wanda was present he looked slightly surprised, but only smirked and whispered something in Vision’s ear, which was met with a thin-lipped expression and a brief headshake. Vision introduced her to Anthony with a firm look at the latter. Wanda used all her training as her father’s daughter to maintain her polite expression. At least he did not disturb them for the rest of the day. The next day Vision handed her a dress that he had borrowed from the blacksmith’s wife, for even Wanda’s simplest dress was made of the finest threads and fabrics, marking her as nobility.

When three months had passed, Wanda had finished exploring the limits of both of the nearest towns, and the new sights did not match the attraction of watching Vision work quietly and talking to him about everything under the sun. It was still a novelty to have someone genuinely interested in her feelings and opinions. Most of the people she met were only interested in her as a proxy for her father’s favor or her father’s wealth. And then there was her father who was only interested in carrying on his own name and legacy.

It was fortunate that few people she knew ever ventured into the blacksmith’s shop, having servants to run their errands and considering the simple metals beneath them. But occasionally an overgrown boy who knew nothing of war would come in to see the swords on display and dream of glory in battle. Wanda would hide in the back storage room, waiting for them to pass. When Vision signaled that it was safe to come out, she would always find the shop in disarray. She would help to set everything to rights despite Vision’s protests.

One day a farmer came into the shop to have his plough repaired. Vision told him it would be ready in a day or two. An idea struck her that perhaps she and Vision could combine their magics and put their special skills to use. They experimented with infusing their magic into the metal at various stages of heating. Eventually they came to a result that resisted all their attempts to damage it. When the farmer returned, he was very impressed. He offered to pay twice the agreed upon price of two chickens, but Vision refused with a smile.

Word began to spread of their knives that stayed supernaturally sharp, horseshoes that never rusted, and dishes that cleaned easily. There were some townspeople who recognized Wanda from the few occasions she had been outside under her father’s watchful eye. When they saw how nervous she was at the recognition, they pretended not to notice her. They felt for her, and it helped that she and Vision always saved their best pieces for those who could not afford them. The townspeople in turn adopted them as their own and vowed to protect them.

At the six-month mark, Wanda’s father began to grow more frustrated at her suitors’ failure. He wanted them to have to work to win his daughter’s hand, but he thought the task would be complete by now. He vastly overestimated their competence. The men’s traps continued to be laughably easy to evade. Wanda fulfilled her end of the bargain by spending a little time walking around as a cat before heading to the shop and spending the day there.

One day while she was standing beside Vision waiting to add her magic to the knife he was molding, Vision asked, “What are you humming? It’s lovely.” Wanda flushed, glad that she could blame it on the heat of the fire. She had not realized she was humming out loud.

“It’s a lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me and my brother.” During the lunchbreak that day, Wanda found herself telling Vision all about her lost loved ones and her father’s refusal to recognize their deaths or accept her mourning. Vision listened sympathetically, offering her his full attention without any meaningless reassurances, before discussing his own lack of family in turn. Anthony tried, but he was always busy with his family and his next project. Vision was accepted as a part of the household, but he was still separate from them.

After those admissions, Wanda and Vision became even closer. They had no secrets from each other. Wanda told Vision how she had always wished to explore the world, but when she had the opportunity, she ran from it. Vision told Wanda of how he feared that he would never be fully human, how people would shun him if they knew what he truly was. Wanda assured him that, though she could not guarantee anybody else, he would always have her. Vision assured her that there were many types of courage and that the world would be waiting for her when she was ready.

When nine months had passed since the challenge began, Wanda’s father held a ball for all her suitors and their families. Wanda was finding it more and more difficult to tolerate her suitors. They continued to pay no heed to her thoughts and feelings; they made no attempt to learn who she really was. During the dancing, their hands gripped her too tightly and they trod all over her feet.

Wanda felt guilty for complaining so much to Vision, but he only listened attentively before offering her his hand, saying perhaps he could do better. She accepted his offer with bemusement. Close as they were, they seldom made physical contact. He held her delicately as they twirled around the shop. They were soon laughing when they stumbled over a stray tool, paying more attention to each other’s eyes than their surroundings. They righted themselves and continued. One of Vision’s hands held onto hers and the other rested on her upper back. Wanda leaned into him when he smiled fondly at her. It was already half-dark when she left the shop that day, having to run home to avoid her father’s wrath.

The next three months passed far too quickly for Wanda’s liking. She knew there was a chance that her father would renege on his word, though he did take his promises seriously. She did not know what she would do if her father refused to let her out of the estate. Having had a taste of friendship and freedom, she could not go back to being her father’s perfect statue and protégé. Vision distracted her with proposing new uses for her magic. She allowed herself to forget how time was running out and simply enjoy his company and offer her own new projects.

When Wanda entered the shop on the last day of the bargain with her father, she was exuberant. She could barely contain her excitement at the thought of being on the edge of freedom. Vision picked up on her mood, grasping her hands. “What will you do after today?”

“I will marry whoever I please, on my schedule.” She tried not to look directly at Vision as she said it, but her eyes were drawn inexorably toward his small smile. The rest of the day was spent quickly glancing at each other and way, grinning all the while. It was almost like her first day in the shop, but that day the space between them was filled with exhilaration rather than awkwardness. Wanda felt a warm fluttering in her stomach as they sat side by side at lunch. When their hands brushed as they laid out some newly finished nails, they did not pull away from each other.

When it was time for her to leave, Wanda impulsively kissed Vision on the cheek. She giggled at his utter surprise. “See you tomorrow, Vizh.” She barely heard his reply when she skipped out the door, preparing how to tell her father that she had found the man she wanted to marry.

Unfortunately, on that day, Wanda was paying too little attention to her surroundings. She was almost home when she walked directly into her least favorite suitor’s arms. She twisted in his hands, trying to claw and bite at him, but her father was standing at their front gate. He uttered a spell to immobilize Wanda as he congratulated the man who had captured her. He ushered the man inside, telling him to wait in the main hall while he put Wanda in her room. He allowed her to transform back into a human before locking her away in her room.

Wanda considered her options for some time. She knew that she was at risk of angering her father, but she had been so close to freedom. She refused to give it up. Perhaps if she convinced her father how deeply she felt for another, he would have pity on his only child. Past experience of her father would suggest otherwise, but she had to try. If that failed, she would think of more drastic solutions.

Alas, her father would not listen to her pleas. He got along well with the suitor. He felt that the young man would preserve his wealth and his lands, appreciating that he came from an ancient family and would be a worthy father to his future grandchildren. Chaperoning several meetings between Wanda and her future husband, her father cared not at all that he and Wanda did not have anything to talk about, if Wanda could even get a word in between the man’s listing his accomplishments and assets.

Days passed. Wanda soon realized that there was no hope to change her father’s mind. Her father and her future husband spent all their time planning a grand wedding, complete with a golden carriage and over a hundred guests. After her third escape attempt, her father used the stone that he still carried with him until she was officially married to remove her powers. The loss left her instantly cold and weak, but she continued to make new plans.

Meanwhile, Vision worried. At first, he thought that Wanda regretted the affection she had shown him. He had almost thought that she had been talking about him when she said she would marry someone she chose for herself, but perhaps he had been mistaken. No one could truly want to marry him. But word had spread from the servants in Wanda’s household, to whom she was always kind, to the other townspeople that Wanda’s father was holding her against her will and forcing her to marry. One of their most frequent customers told the whole tale to Vision, who resolved to rescue his friend.

Two days before her wedding was to take place, Wanda was pacing her room, trying to think of a solution to get out of her prison. Her father had reinforced the bars on her window and across her door with his own magic. Without her powers, she had no idea how to get through them.

After a time, she collapsed on her bed, having worn herself out with worry and restless movement. A soft humming at her window caused her to open her eyes and sit up. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Vision? What are you doing here?”

“When you did not come to the shop, I thought you had changed your mind about our meetings.” His gaze dropped until Wanda approached him and touched his arm briefly. He met her eyes directly, sincerity and hope shining out of him. “But I was told that one of your suitors succeeded and you were trapped here. I had to ensure that you were well.”

“I’m not,” Wanda assured him heartily. “I’ve been trying to run away, but my father stole my powers.”

He winced, knowing how much Wanda valued the powers that helped give her some control over her own life. “I am sorry I cannot do anything to give you them back, but I will run away with you.” Wanda smiled her first true smile in days. “I cannot offer you the life you deserve, but I will share whatever I can call my own with you. I will always stand by your side.”

“I don’t want anything more than that.” She looked around her room with slight regret. She wished she had a little more time to pack some of her belongings, but time was of the essence. Her dress was not inconspicuous either. She sighed. She supposed she would have to continue borrowing from Pepper before they left. At least she could be sure of him and their bond. “I’m ready when you are.”

He reached for her hands and clasped them briefly. “Wanda, I-.”

A bright burst of light hitting Vision’s chest cut him off mid-sentence. He immediately fell to the floor, skin going cold and gray when his glamour vanished, wide unseeing eyes becoming white. Wanda cried out and sank down next to him. “Vizh?” She shook his shoulder hopelessly before finally turning to her father. “How could you?” The tears falling thick and fast blurred her vision, but she could glimpse his sneer.

“I’m merely making it easier for you to do your duty.” He looked down and nudged Vision with his foot. “What is this thing anyway?”

“This man’s name is Vision. I love him.” Wanda leaned over him, caressing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Her tears were still flowing freely, but her father remained unmoved.

“I have warned you before about feeling too deeply. You see? It has brought you nothing but pain. Now get up and compose yourself. We will be rehearsing your wedding ceremony in twenty minutes.”

“No!” Wanda draped herself protectively over Vision’s body. She was not ready to let go yet.

“Yes.” Her father’s voice was firm and implacable. “If you continue to act hysterically, I will stop your tongue until it is time to say your vows. If you even think of causing a scene, I will make your life more miserable than you can imagine.”

He started to levitate Vision’s body away from her, but Wanda still clung to him. In a last move of desperation, she kissed his lips, as she was never able to do in life. At first nothing happened. However, a cry soon tore from her father’s lips. The stone that he so carefully crafted flew from his hands, glowing warmly. Energy began to spill from it. The scarlet tendrils threaded their way between Wanda and Vision, flowing through their mouths and twining around their bodies.

Wanda could feel a surge of power deep within her as the magic ceased its glow. Even more startling was that the stone had nestled itself in Vision’s forehead. A warm wave of crimson was spreading out across his body. Even her father was transfixed by the sight of Vision’s body rising higher, becoming upright with his arms wide open.

Hope was a relatively new emotion for her, but Wanda dared to dream that Vision would open his eyes and recover. When he finally did so, he looked confused for a moment, but floated down to her side, tenderly brushing her tears away. Eventually he rose and lifted Wanda to her feet. Looking down at her with some pure emotion that she was afraid to name, Vision asked, “Shall we?” His gaze was serious, enquiring if she still wished to leave with him, still wished to abandon the only life she’d known.

Wanda beamed at him with no reservation. “We shall.” They had both forgotten about her father until he stepped in front of the window, blocking their path.

“You will not move one inch, young lady.” He moved forward threateningly, but Vision refused to drop her hand. Instead, he tried to angle his body in front of her. But Wanda would not have it. She knew Vision meant well, but with the return of her powers, she would not have anyone push her to the sidelines in the name of protection. She pushed forward, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. Vision nodded slightly at her and she could feel his acceptance that she had to do this.

“Father, I’m leaving.”

Her father scowled and squared his stance. “I swear I will-.”

“You will do nothing to me.” Red swirled around her fingers. “I’m leaving. Now stand aside. Let your would-be son-in-law inherit for all I care.” She prayed that her father would listen to her for once. Though he had not been a kind man, she did not wish to hurt him. She just wanted to be free. Apparently, her father saw the determination that was burning through her because he did move aside.

Not without one final barb. “I disown you. You will never get one acre of my lands or one coin from my coffers.”

Wanda would mourn the loss of her last family member another time. She steeled her spine and her voice to reply, “You have given me and taken away from me enough. I need nothing from you.” She held onto Vision as he phased them out of her room. She would not look back.

When they were beyond the boundaries of her father’s estate, Vision floated even higher, only the slight glow of the stone illuminating their path. Secure in his arms, Wanda began to relax. She almost didn’t realize that they’d stopped until Vision asked, “What happened back there, Wanda? The last thing I remember is talking to you, and then I was in the air and you were collapsed on the floor.”

“My father hit you with this, and you…died.” She tapped the stone that now resided in his forehead. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone, so I kissed you. The stone gave me back my powers and healed you.”

Though taken aback, Vision smiled at her faintly. “Thank you for saving me.” But his smile fell almost immediately. “Although I cannot help but regret that I missed our first kiss.”

Wanda lifted her hands to his neck, massaging his skin. “Maybe it shouldn’t count since you didn’t feel it.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.” He brushed a strand of her hair, which was floating in the breeze, behind her ear, and his hand lingered, threading through the waves. “Would you care for a second try?”

The swiftness of his bashful smile and dip of his head has not changed, always appearing whenever she catches him in an act of avoidance or when she makes a brazen acknowledgment of his appeal. Then the smile is erased, replaced with a slight furrow of his brow and a squaring of his shoulders that means he is about to enter his professorial mode.“Mentally, yes, I mature in similar ways to everyone else.” His fingers part, right hand waving through the air as he keeps talking. “My memories increase, emotions change, I even believe I am becoming more introverted, which scientifically is correlated with the natural process of aging.”  

Wanda realizes that she knew this part of it without having ever really considered the changes. If she thinks back to the way his mind felt the first time she touched it in the cradle it was so new, so innocent, but throughout their many years together, minds almost always in tandem, his thoughts have transformed, grown more complicated, more perceptive, yet still calm and tightly organized. “And physically?”

His fingertips find each other again, nervously tapping in time with the syllables of his answer. “Physically,” his voice drops off, eyes uncertain as he stares to the side and then slowly shifts his attention back to her, “no. Dr. Cho believes my body could continue to function indefinitely in this form.”

“That’s what I suspected.” The coolness of her response is not intentional but she stands by it, attempting to control the niggling guilt in her stomach from growing into an apology, even with his wide-eyed, apologetic gaze.

Sighing is an action that took him time to utilize appropriately, the careful way he analyzed the various types, always asking her the intention behind her sighs for better understanding and categorization, was both irritating and endearing to experience. But it means the precise and defeated exhale from his lungs carries just enough force and vibration to convey how much he has been dreading this conversation. The mattress dips as he sits next to her, the firmness of his bicep along her upper back a stinging reminder of his eternal youth more than a comfort. “Wanda,” her name is whispered as if in prayer, a plea to understand, “why now?”

Wanda leans her head back against his shoulder, eyes locked on the swirling pattern in the finishing of the ceiling as she contemplates the impetus for raising the inquiry. “I found three gray hairs this morning."

“I see.” The tone is not as empathetic as she needs, annoyed at the subtle amusement in his elongation of the I. “It is a simple biological process. The catalase enzyme within your hair follicles functions in such a way to break down the buildup of hydrogen peroxide, maintaining the typical color of the hair. Graying simply means that those follicles have a deficit in catalase. It is not catastrophic.”  

Typically the no-nonsense scientific lens with which he analyzes the world is comforting. Typically. “It means I'm getting old and you're not.” Wanda disentangles from his embrace, crossing her arms as she stares at him. “What happens when I'm a shriveled old lady and you're still, well,” she brings her arms out, waving them to emphasize the perfection of his synthetic body, “every sculptors’ wet dream.”

The nonchalance of his shrug is infuriating. “I do not see why anything would change.”

“Really?” Despite her withering stare he persists in acting like this is not an earth-shattering revelation. “What about when I start to always look like I've been in the bath for too long?”  

“Wrinkles are of no concern to me. You are already developing lines near your eyes and mouth and it is not alarming in any way.”  

Her hands fly to her face, poking at the corners of her eyes and trying to smooth out the creases she can feel near her mouth. Another glance at his unmarred face serves to remind her of their disconnect, her mind instantly coming up with every single instance she can think of when an aging wife is dropped for a twenty-something model. “One day Vizh, you're going to realize I'm too old for you. That it's time to trade me in for younger mod- ”

“Wanda,” his voice is stern, cutting off the increasingly dismal vision of their future, hands coming to grip her shoulders, eyes steady and serious. “that is preposterous.”

“Is it?”

Vision continues to stare at her, eyes switching between swirling to the left and then the right, a scowl of concentration weighing down his mouth. Three times in a row he parts his lips but then clamps them shut. Eventually he begins to speak, the millisecond too long pauses between the words an indication of how carefully he is choosing them. “I have always envied you.” Vision pauses, eyes boring into her in anticipation of a response but she remains silent, staring curiously at him. “By the very nature of my synthetic compound and the influence of the Mindstone I do not scar, will never wrinkle, will never develop the pangs of aging.” Wanda immediately wants to push back, point out how incredibly awesome that sounds, but holds her tongue at the growing sense of remorse coming from his mind at his inability to experience this aspect of humanity. “My body, unlike yours, lacks the ability to narrate the story of my life.”

“Vizh, that’s,” she’s not sure how to finish the sentence. Ridiculous? Not a big deal? Not true? None of the options seem appropriate to the hint of despair in his voice, the downturn of his eyes as he picks restlessly at lint clinging to the bed sheet. So she settles for just a simple, reassuring, “Vizh” and a hand to his shoulder. Which seems to be the ideal response, his mouth quirking up just enough to form a gentle, slightly nervous smile.

"For instance," suddenly he is gone, phasing through the mattress and then the floor, re-appearing at the end of the bed, taking a seat once more as he gingerly wraps his fingers around her bare ankle. A bloom of curiosity expands quickly through her mind, rushing down to kickstart her heart into a flutter as he traces his thumb along the faded scar hugging the curve of her ankle. “Recall when you tore the tendon here.”

“Yeah, that sucked,” and it did, she was half-awake on April Fools day,  walking down the stairs near the living quarters when she ran into a wall of saran wrap, freaked out, and missed the last two steps. The sound of her tendon snapping echoes clearly in her mind as if it just happened.  “Sam still owes me for that, I was out for eight weeks because of the surgery.”

An amused nod joins his response, “You were quite irate, understandably so.” Then her heart seems to stop functioning when he bends down, placing a soft, reverential kiss to the surgical scar, eyes not missing the tiny smirk on his lips when he pulls away. His fingers skim up along her calf, stopping at a pucker of pink marring her skin. “This occurred on our first joint mission,” his voice drops down and she can feel the memory stirring in his brain, latches onto it with a flick of her wrist and a strand of scarlet, “a stray bullet and your scream, the first quantifiable proof I could experience fear.” Another brush of his lips sends tremors up her spine, only intensifying as his fingers trail up to her knee, other hand guiding her right leg closer, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles on the twin scars. “These I am unsure of the origin but you have worn them for as long as I have known you.”

Wanda closes her eyes in an attempt to quell the tears forming as she finds herself back in Sokovia when she was ten years old. “There were shards of glass under the bed, after the mortar. We didn't risk moving, even with the pain.”

Finally she opens her eyes to take in the sorrow on his face, the somber turn of his irises as his thumbs continue to trace the matching scars. “For Magnus,” a slow, solemn kiss to her left knee, “and Magda,” then one to her right. Vision moves on from her knees, hands rising up her thighs until he reaches the edge of her shorts. “May I?”

A disbelieving laugh mixes with her tears, hand pulling them from her cheeks as she nods her head. “Always the gentleman,” because he always asks, always seeks her consent and approval even when she’s fairly certain being married for this long is a pretty good sign she’s okay with it. The cotton of her shorts turn incorporeal, phasing away as the trailing caress of his fingers dances around the three inch scar on her left thigh. “Let’s not talk about that one.”

“Agreed,” and he seals away the pain with another, slightly longer press of his lips to her skin, the cool touch of air once he moves on leading to the development of goosebumps all over her body. Gently he nudges her torso with his hands, an unspoken request for her to lay down, which she complies with instantly. “This one,” Vision pushes her tank top up, bunching the fabric around her waist before hooking his finger into the top of her underwear and teasingly dipping the fabric down enough to reveal a half-inch raised line above her pelvic bone, “is one of my favorites.” The sly smile on his face when he glances up at her arrests all the air from her lungs, an almost silent, amused groan escaping with the air as she flops her head back against the pillows, savoring the languid strokes of his fingers over the scar. “French Polynesia.”  

Their honeymoon was idyllic, minus the incessant calls from their teammates late at night and the unexpectedly sharp corners of the nightstand in their bungalow. “That was your fault, you know.”

A breathy, reminiscent chuckle blows against her skin before he rests his forehead against her hip, his embarrassment still as fresh today as it was back then. “In my defense,” the words lack conviction from the get-go, an explanation they both know is faulty but he continues, the movement of his lips into a smile grazing against her skin, “it was the first instance where you requested I attempt phasing while engaging in intercourse.” His hands grip her thighs while he presses a loving kiss against the scar sending a tremor of pleasure twisting through her body, so forceful it causes her toes and fingers to curl in delight. “I admit to a slight miscalculation.”

“You think?”

Vision breaks from his position, lifting himself just enough to crawl up along her body until their faces are even, allowing her to count the rotations of the gears in his eyes. “To be fair, I did have to explain to the rental agent the surprising amount of blood from your injury.”

The image of him from that day is crystal clear in her mind, words fumbling unconvincingly from his mouth as he told the black haired agent (whose face was wholly unamused) the lie Wanda had concocted about slipping on the freshly finished wood floor. Wanda can’t stop the elation engulfing her chest from developing into a dopey grin, “You were so nervous.” She reaches her arms out to pull him into an embrace, hungry to feel his cool lips against her own mouth, but her arms go straight through him with a “Hey!”

A surprisingly coquettish wink occurs in his left eye accompanying an equally flirtatious grin. “I am not done yet.” With that he phases away, the weight of his body re-emerging along her legs as he resumes his prior position at her hip. “My other favorites,” is blown away by the gust of air to her body as he phases her tank top off, a tantalizing chill that makes her long for the heat of his body against hers. Affectionately he runs his hands along the fading stretch marks branching on either side of her navel.  “The miracle of life.”

Wanda scrunches her eyes closed, smirking at the tickle of his fingers up and down her stomach. “You’re so melodramatic.”

The only response to her claim is a burst of joy in his mind and two lingering, passionate kisses to her stomach before shifting his weight to study horizontal scar on her side. “Samhain the Druid”

“What an ass.” She shrugs at the incredulous raise of his brow, “What? We had just finished decorating the house and he ruined it.”

“And turned innocent children into his henchmen.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, shoving his face playfully away from her body, “Yes that was far worse, but still, I could never get the ashes out of that rug.”

An amused shake of his head and a quick peck to the scar ends the memory of that day as Vision turns his head up, meeting her gaze before transferring his weight to the side, face coming to rest against her chest. The pang of grief in his mind permeates deep within hers, tears forming anew in her eyes at the hidden scar he is examining. Tenderly he grips her sides, lowering his face to lay a worshipful, sobering kiss in the valley of her breasts, right over her heart. “Sokovia.” They lay in silence, allowing a moment of remembrance for Pietro. When he moves once more she can see the residue of tears on his own face and she lifts her hands to cup his cheeks. Wanda does not miss the fact that there is no joy in his eyes when he grips her wrist, turning his face to bring her palm firmly to his mouth. “Thanos."

"One of many.”

"Unfortunately." Any warmth left in the atmosphere is sucked from the room, his lips hovering just above her skin as he proceeds to her wrist, a whispered “Edinburgh,” ending with another deliberately gentle kiss. Vision proceeds to her shoulder, a minuscule smile breaking the solemn line of his mouth as he touches the nearly invisible cluster of pink dots mixing in with her freckles.

Wanda inhales deeply, struggling to control the waver in her voice, pushing past the unhappy memories to focus on better times. “That was also you.”

“I am aware,” finally a full smile parts his lips again, and she finds herself responding with one of her own. “It was my first and last attempt at deep frying food."

Wanda knows the next scar in his path, can feel the memories of electricity coursing through her body with each shock of the collar, but she has no desire to relive it right now, desperately wants to keep hold of the lightened mood of the latest twist in her story. So she says a plaintive, “Vizh,” fingers curling around the sides of his head, drawing his gaze away from her neck and up to her. “Come here.” And it works, the comfort of his weight spreading out as he lays over her, the intoxicating contrast of the cold patches of vibranium warring with the warmth of his skin against her own igniting a deep, insatiable desire within her soul.

Tenderly he runs a hand along her cheek, the movement latching an invisible string to her eyelids and drawing them closed as he leans down to whisper in her ear, “That was only a fraction of your life.”

Her body shivers at the wisp of hot air against her ear, knees reactively bending to cage him in, trapping him (quite willingly) against her. “I don't want you to read the whole thing in one sitting.” Wanda opens her eyes enough to peer at him, studying the adorable tilt to the right side of his mouth and the slow, steady turn of his irises as he waits for her next move. “You know," she sighs again, hands working in a lazy semi-circular pattern on his chest, "just because you’re adorable doesn't erase the fact I’m getting older.”

Instead of the annoyance she expected at reopening the issue there is a softening of the muscles in his face, his body relaxing against hers as he sweeps the stray hairs from her forehead. “It appears you have overlooked the underlying narrative of our relationship.”

“Oh?”