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Wanda wraps the blanket closer to herself, trying to block out the memories of the vivid nightmare that awoke her. Tears spring to her eyes and spill over steadily onto her face, which is already damp from sweat. Her heart races quickly in her chest, still palpitating from the horrors her mind had conjured during this late hour; the hour when only the most traumatized souls are awake. Moonlight floods her quaint room, illuminating the odd trinkets lying about. The light brings a small sense of serenity to the young Avenger’s room but it is quickly broken when a passing cloud obstructs its path, that cloud reminiscent of the depressing haze that suspends itself over her shattered heart.
Wanda’s eyes flicker to a small picture of a blonde haired child pinned on her wall: Pietro. The picture breaks the mental crutch she is clinging to and she forces herself to choke back a sob. Biting down harshly on her tongue, Wanda forces herself to get up and take a walk around the new compound to steady herself. She collects a softly-toned grey blanket from the back of her plush chair and drapes it over her shoulders gently.
Clutching the blanket tightly, she slowly pushes open her wooden door to the desolate hallway. A cold draft engulfs her, causing a shiver to reverberate down her aching spine; the previous sparring session with Natasha has had a toll on her. She can hear the soft snoring of Sam as she passes by his room and her heart aches with envy. What she would give to have a full night of sleep was unimaginable. The insomnia and nightmares that have plagued her since her brother’s death are similar to a disease and she is still desperate for a cure.
Before she could comprehend it, Wanda had arrived in the bare kitchen. She quietly makes a steaming cup of tea, mixed with a variety of calming herbs with the help of her scarlet powers. Just as she levitates the mug into the microwave, a smooth, British accent cuts through the silence like a knife through skin.
“Wanda?” Immediately Wanda knew who had confronted her at this unusual time at night. She spins around to see The Vision hovering a few inches from the ground staring back at her with a puzzled look on her face. “Might I ask what you are doing awake at this time of night?”
“I’m just getting a cup of tea, Vizh. I couldn’t sleep.” She says softly, her voice cracking slightly. Her eyes drop from Vision’s to the granite countertop separating them. Silence ensues between the two as Wanda stares aimlessly at the counter trying to numb the nagging memory of her chilling nightmare. Vision remains still, transfixed at the sight of such a broken soul.
“Please allow me to prepare the rest of your tea. I suggest for you to relax on the couch before you collapse. Exhaustion has detrimental effects on the human body, one of which is tiring and aching of muscle tissue.” Wanda flinches at the sudden sound of his voice but nods without protesting. Vision phases through the counter seamlessly and finishes preparing the tea. Once again, silence fills that air like a low-lying cloud on a spring morning. To mask the silence, Wanda uses her phone to turn on a Sokovian lullaby her mom used to sing while soothing her to sleep. After about 3 minutes, Vision floats his way over to the small woman propped up against the couch. Taking the steaming cup in her hands from Vision, Wanda mumbles a soft thank you. He nods before taking a seat next to her with a respectable amount of distance between them.
“I am guessing it is Sokovian?” Vision asks, referencing the beautiful melody wafting throughout the room. Wanda nods politely, taking a delicate sip of her drink. The temperature warms her in seconds and it slowly calms her worried mind. Vision fiddles with his hands while listening to the guitar, piano and violin ensemble. “It is unlike many lullabies I’ve heard. It has an underlying melody, like a voice hiding beneath its surface that, in my opinion, is much more interesting then what the composer is trying to highlight. It is unique, just like you.”
Clasping the drink in her hands, Wanda meets Vision’s eyes with a small smile. “Thank you Vizh. You aren’t quite so normal yourself either.” She says with a soft laugh. Vision holds a confused look on his face that results in Wanda breaking out into a fit of giggles. Despite being perplexed, he smiles, glad to see that she was enjoying herself for the first time in a while.
After calming down, Wanda apologizes sincerely. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. You are unique and that is a good thing. Uniqueness gives one character and humanizes an individual.” Vision, still smiling, thanks her. He then notices an odd emotion take over his body, one that contains a genuine sense of happiness and feeling of deep respect; it could only be described as adoration. Wanda hums along to the Sokovian lullaby before cutting through Vision’s thoughts.
“There are lyrics to this songs as well. They talk about a girl who is afraid; she is someone who is afraid of change. She tries to hold onto her past but it ultimately slips from her grip and she is thrust into this unfamiliar, terrifying world. For example, this line sings: Солнце упало за облаками и оставило ее в темноте. Ей пришлось по частям объединиться по частям.” Vision pays close attention to how she speaks her native tongue; he watches how it effortlessly flows from her lips. “When you translate the verse, it means: The sun fell behind the clouds and left her in the dark. She had to put herself back together piece by piece, part by part.”
“Just like you and I.” She looks at him with a perplexed look so he continues. “The songs pertains more to you than me but we both were placed in this unfamiliar world. You were, in a sense, torn from your past just like the girl in the song. And when it says ‘She had to put herself back together piece by piece,’ you could say that you are doing just that right now.” Wanda listens intently to Vision’s explanation with tired eyes. Every sentence he spoke causes Wanda to realize the uncanny resemblance she had to the girl in the song.
“Wow, I never realized that.” She says when he finishes. He nods and then looks at her with an inquisitive look as she fumbles with the mug. The melody slows and transitions into the next song on her phone.
“Please excuse me for asking but are you okay? It is unlike you to be up at this hour and you’ve been in a depressive state of being throughout the past week.” Everything that she had previously let go of came rushing back suddenly. Wanda stays quiet for a minute before levitating her cup onto the nearby coffee table and shaking her head, eyes trained on her lap. She then shakes her head, meeting Vision’s eyes with a sea of tears, her green eyes like the sun setting on the sea’s horizon.
“I . . . I can’t sleep because I keep having these dreams, nightmares really, about Pietro. This week has been especially hard because our birthday is tomorrow.” She chokes out, tears now slowly cascading down her cheeks. Vision opens his mouth to say something but hushes quickly when she begins again.“I lied to you and to the other Avengers about my birthday, saying that it was in February. I just couldn’t do it; I couldn’t tell you the truth, Vizh. It hurts too much.” The sythezoid’s face contorts, showing an expression of pity and sorrow.
“May I comfort you with a hug?” He asks shyly, desperate to help calm his hurting friend. Wanda flushes a soft red but then nods, scooting closer to Vision and wrapping her arms around his Vibranium torso. She lays her head on his shoulder, exhausted both mentally and physically. He smiles, relaxing into the hug and rubbing her back soothingly in time with the melodic song.
“Thank you,” Wanda mumbles into Vision’s shoulder tiredly, wiping a stray tear from her face. “If you don’t mind, can we just stay here? It is nice to have your company.” She asks after stifling a yawn and pulling out of the hug.
“I don’t mind staying with you but I do believe that we should transfer to your room if that is okay with you. Captain Rogers and Mr. Wilson will be up in an hour to begin their morning run and, in the likely chance that you fall asleep, they might wake you up.” Vision states, standing up from the couch and offering a hand to Wanda. She nods and accepts his hand gratefully. The two walk back to Wanda’s room with their hands still clasped together. When they get into Wanda’s room, she walks over to her bed while Vision stands awkwardly, unsure of where to sit. He starts to work his way over the plush grey chair but is stopped by Wanda.
“You can sit over here on my bed. I don’t mind.” She says with a reassuring smile, patting the empty space next to her. The unbroken moonlight in the room reflects off of Vision’s red face as he starts to protest. Wanda cuts in saying, “Please, I insist.” Vision nods and sits down next to her.
The silence is slightly awkward as the two sit next to one another, Wanda wrapped up in her blanket and Vision sitting stiffly next to her. “Thank you for being here for me, Vision,” Wanda says, turning her body in his direction. “It is nice to have someone that I can confine my secrets to.” She looks at him with a sense of sincerity as she speaks.
“I can say the same about you. You are a wonderful person to be friends with.” Vision responds, relaxing his tense posture as the two converse back and forth. The two talk for the next hour or so before sleep consumes Wanda. She ends up passed out next to Vision, her arms wrapped around his waist and her head on the pillow that is resting on his lap. He mindlessly plays with a strand of her hair as she sleeps, softly humming the Sokovian lullaby from before. And for the first time in months, Wanda didn’t wake in terror from another nightmare. Instead, she awoke with a smile on her face.