Wanda can’t sleep.
After roughing it with her brother Pietro for so long, her mind reaches out, instinctively, for his, during sleep. As they slept on the streets, her power would run idle fingers over his dreams, dreams that tasted of fire and fear, vengeance and victory, and they would warm her, even as his back at hers and his heartbeat at her fingertips warmed her.
Now she sleeps, and her mind reaches out -
Natasha stirs, fitfully, dreaming of a man whose eyes glow green and will not see her
- and he is not there.
Without her brother’s dreams to lull her, she falls into nightmares of blood and horror, and awakes, choking a scream back as she awakens.
Dead.
It is the first word that arises on her tongue, and she falls into sobs that feel as if they may break her spine.
Dead. Gone.
Alone.
---
It is her second night in Avengers HQ. Someone - she is not sure who, but she suspects either Steve or Wilson - has left a teddy bear in her bed.
It’s blank, gormless eyes stare at her, and she shoves in under her bed, unnerved, as she undresses.
As she climbs into bed, she feels the tenseness in her shoulders unwind, her power relax, seeking -
Steve pounds the bags, his face cool and calm, his mind a tempest of rage and anguish and regret
- Wanda rushes for the bathroom, but does not vomit, because the rage is not hers.
She cannot sleep. Not like this.
Slowly, unnerved, she leaves, barefoot and in pyjamas that still smell unused, to find peace somewhere else.
---
“Are you all right, Wanda?”
The voice catches her by surprise. She expects Steve to check on her, or maybe Clint, who occasionally visits Natasha, always leaving with a worried frown between his eyebrows, but not Vision.
“I...uh...I am fine, sir.”
The synthoid smiles. Wanda has chosen an empty training room, and is settled on the floor, cuddled emptily in the moonlight.
“You must be cold, though. May I offer you a blanket?”
A quiet noise of assent comes out before Wanda can stop it, and before she can blink, Vision is gently wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, arranging her hair over it, tucking it over her feet, before standing tall again.
“I…”
Vision smiles, and it strikes Wanda that she has never seen a smile so gentle. Then, like a breeze, like a thought, like quicksilver in the palm, he is gone.
(she will fall asleep there, bathed in moonlight, but will awaken in her bed, with the teddy bear tucked under her arm, and her sleep will be dreamless and filled with peace)
---
“Wanda!” snaps Steve, fully in drill-sergeant mode, “Focus!”
“Yessir,” she replies, and attempts to perform the move that Natasha is demonstrating, but her mind is filled with moonlit corridors and gentle smiles.
---
That night, as she curls up in bed, she tries to return, mentally, to that place of peace, to moonlit synthetic skin, but the instant she closes her eyes, her power wanders -
Sam Wilson’s mind ticks over the days’ events, charts and numbers neatly aligning, forming a darker and darker picture, but beneath the minutia is blood, blood that doesn’t end, blood that runs for miles and miles and miles
- Wanda awakens with a gasp and a cry, and for several minutes can do little more but shiver in a warm, comfy bed.
There is, to her surprise, a gentle knock on the door.
“Y-yes?” she whispers.
The knock comes again, and she answers, more loudly this time.
It is Vision, holding a steaming cup.
“I...this may be presumptuous, but I understood you were having a nightmare. I brought you hot chocolate.”
Wanda feels her lip tremble, and tries hard not to weep, because it is exactly what Pietro would do - bring her softness, and sweetness, to smooth out the harshness.
“Here. I understand Slovokians like to drink chocolate with ginger and cinnamon, so I added some.”
It is her first taste of home, and that is all it takes for Wanda to start crying.
Vision gently sets the cup aside and holds her as she weeps.
---
Weeks pass.
---
Wanda thinks she is getting better. She has a blanket - the blanket from the moonlit night - and she wraps it around herself, and she drinks hot chocolate before bed times and keeps the teddy bear close, and most night it helps. The tactile sensations force her brain to focus, to not wander with her power.
---
“Wanda?”
Vision sounds surprised, which is understandable. It has been almost a month since Wanda’s first attack, and as far as he can tell, she hasn’t had any more serious ones. Yet this late night visit, in the moonlit corridor, is entirely irregular.
“I couldn’t sleep. Head buzzing with thoughts...like dogs chasing their tails. I wanted to know...do you sleep?”
Vision smiles, briefly, and sadly.
“No.”
“Would you...if it’s all right...could you watch over me?”
Vision walks over to Wanda, his eyes curious as he brushes a strand of hair over her ear.
“Wanda...what do you think I’ve been doing since you arrived?”
“And you’ve been wonderful. But I get nights where all that happens is I find myself drifting into other people’s dreams. And the others...all their dreams are nightmares.”
“You would rather know what I’m thinking about?”
“Your mind seems peaceful. Gentle. Like water tapping on rocks.”
Vision sighs, because he knows it is the correct choice, but he also knows that Wanda may hear thoughts he would rather she would not.
“If it will help you sleep.”
---
Wanda cuddles into bed, and her mind drifts over to Vision -
standing over the sleeping Wanda, bathed in moonlight. how odd. how small. how beautiful. like a butterfly newly hatched. a butterfly with torn wings. must help the wings mend. how beautiful her wings would be.
gently holding her, carrying her back to her bed, tucking her in. so soft. not faux-soft like Natasha, who is hiding steel beneath everything, teeth and fangs and poison. gentle-soft, like kittens or puppies.
tucking a teddy bear in.
“Captain Rogers, what do you advise for helping people through nightmares?”
“Uhm...gosh. Warm drinks? Soft teddy bears?”
Sam Wilson, jokingly, “Yeah, Cap needs a goodnight kiss from his favorite teddy bear or he can’t sleep!”
Steve Rogers, as if the thought has just occurred “Wait, do you even sleep?”
“Thank you for your assistance.”
“You’re...welcome?”
hair fallen across her mouth.
...she…
i…
brushing the hair back…
she smiles in her sleep, peaceful and content.
a kiss on the forehead.
goodnight.
- Wanda smiles, beautifully.
The next morning, without explanation, she walks over and simply kisses Vision on the cheek.
“Whoa,” says Natasha wryly, “Looks like our AI buddy has a girlfriend.”
Vision simply watches Wanda walk away, head filled with butterflies in the moonlight.