Chapter Text
It was a usual occurrence that her sleep wouldn’t be peaceful. It was a usual occurrence where she would have a nightmare, usually consisting of all of the faces she had lost. Maybe her brother’s, or her parents’ faces. SHe had lost everyone who ever was brave enough to care about her. Wanda was a walking charm of death. She was like a bomb about to explode, and anyone who was daring enough to give a damn about her was about to be blown away into bits. There was nothing she could do to change that. She was probably endangering VIsion by letting him care about her. She was waiting for the next explosion. That was all her life was. Waiting in between the explosions and waiting for the next time she would fall apart. She was held together by duct tape now. However, this time, this night, Vision knocked on her door.
Sometimes when she had a nightmare, her power would accidentally seep to a part of her room and hol dosme of her belongings in suspension for a few seconds. They would then drop to the floor and create the smallest rumble of noise. It was like he would listen to that noise, and it was like he wanted to be absolutely sure she was sleeping peacefully before he closed his eyes. But still, her door was open a crack and he heard the familiar propaganda of the news playing through the room. Most of them discussed him, or her. After Nigeria, it was mostly her. Name-calling. Calls for deportation. They called the memory of her brother, and slandered him. Pietro was now known as the forgotten brother of the immigrant Avenger who had nearly ended the world. She was nineteen. And still, the weight of the world on her shoulders. Vision gently knocked on the slightly ajar door and it seemed like she was lost in thought and hadn’t heard him at first, so he knocked once more. Her eyes turned and looked at him. There were a million words between their gaze.
Her knees were curled into her arms and she sat her head atop the hills of her knees with a glaze over her eyes. He took the invitation and slowly walked through the door, and cautiously sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and her hands held her sheets tightly with a death grip.
She looked half catatonic, like she wasn’t really accepting the fact that he was there. He was still standing by her… even if she killed people. She had been so upset with Stark for killing her parents. She had just taken people away from their families forever. She was Tony Stark to them. Oh God , she felt like she was going to be sick. She had maybe taken parents away from their children, she had created the next her , or the next Pietro. She killed people. She killed people, and the others still considered her a hero. They considered her an Avenger. That was a title built in blood, and she hadn’t wanted it, at first, but now, she fit that title. She was just as much of a monster as the others now. “Wanda, this isn’t all your fault.” Vision looked at her and she watched the news program, and cruel words about her played through a low volume. Vision looked back towards the sheets and took the remote from the confines of the blankets, quickly shutting off the television until it flickered black.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault or not, Vizh…” She whispered softly with a shake of her head, and bored her eyes down into her tight grip on the sheets. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. “… people are dead because of me… because of my actions.”
“You were trying to save Captain Rogers-”
“And I messed it up… like always.” Wanda shook her head with a small sniffle and she quickly wiped beneath her eyes, trying to hide her emotions… again. She was good at putting on masks. He knew that. After knowing her for almost a year, he knew that well.
She thought she could seal herself up and push everything down and eventually it would go away. That had worked before, so now it was her only coping mechanism. “I always muck it all up.” Wanda scoffed and she shook her head, sitting her head atop her knees once more. Vision let out a small exhale, and slowly, he cautiously placed his hand on her back. She showed a small reaction, just a blink of her eyes, but she was quiet.
“I wish you could see yourself like I see you.” Vision whispered softly, and he bore his eyes into her bright blue irises, admiring the beauty of them, but he would never say that aloud due to his shyness. “You’re human, Wanda.” He shook his head and she slowly turned her head, her eyes shamefully looking up towards him with a small shine in her eyes. “Yes, you messed up.” Vision nodded and he slowly glazed his eyes over each of her features. They were filled with shameful desperation. Wanda didn’t like needing people. She hated not being independent, she hated relying on someone because she couldn’t trust him to stay alive.
And then she would care about them, and then they would die. She wished to die sometimes. She wished to join Pietro and her parents, and all of the people in Sokovia who had died because she trusted Ultron. If she just said ‘no,’ so many more people would still be breathing. Parents would be reunited with children, or a brother with a sister. “You hold yourself on such a pedestal, God would not be able to live up to the expectations you set for yourself.” He spoke in a soft voice, hoping to comfort her, but Wanda looked away, and he sighed. With a flush of his cheeks, he gently placed his finger on the tip of her chin and gently directed her eyes towards his. “You’re human , Wanda. It is okay to ask for help sometimes. It is okay to let people care about you.”
“No. Then I care about them… and then they die.” Wanda whispered softly, and her breath echoed across his skin and he felt a chill run down his spine. She gently took herself from his grip and looked down towards the floor with a small reflection of liquid rolling over her cheeks. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” She said quietly, but she still couldn’t look at him. T here was such a shame, such a self disgust at herself and he could see it in the death-grip she held on her sheets, and the two small tears on her freckled, rosy cheeks. “… but this is on me. And I have to do it alone.” Like always. Wanda thought and she swallowed, her bottom lip trembling slightly but she stayed silent. She didn’t like looking weak. She wanted everyone to think she was strong, when really, she was usually a word away from falling apart. She had been patching herself up with duct-tape since her parents’ deaths, and after Pietro, and now Lagos, the cracks in her porcelain frame were clear. She was breaking.
Vision shook his head, and he slowly placed his arm around her shoulder, and then his other arm around her… and he held her. He hugged her, and her head hid in his shoulder by default and quickly, her silence was cracking. He felt tears on the edge of his sweater where her head lay and he cautiously drew his hand up and down her back and let her cry on his shoulder. “You do not have to be alone anymore, Wanda.”