life and death

transatlanticism

The Vision stopped flying somewhere above Milan.

He simply couldn't stay at the compound this weekend, what with everything that had transpired - that being said, however, he didn't really have anywhere else to go. So, he had started flying and didn't intend to stop until he was exhausted of keeping himself in the air, which was right about now. While he didn't necessarily need sleep as often as most people, even he was starting to feel woozy after nearly 30 hours of restlessness.

Vision still wasn't sure what his relationship was to the Avengers, even after spending an entire year living and learning with them. Should he continue claiming them simply as teammates, even after they had experienced so much together? Or were they considered friends now, having moved past some kind of invisible social barrier?

Or possibly...could Vision call them his family? They were without a doubt the people he was closest to, the ones who had surrounded him when he first saw the world, hesitant as they were to accept him as their own. Would he ever come closer to having a family than where he stood right now?

Except scratch that - because none of them stood in a position to claim anything as their own anymore. Everything that the Avengers had built for each other had been torn apart in an unbelievably short amount of time, which was still something to get used to. The emptiness of the New York compound still seemed uncomfortable and wrong, despite the fact that the Avengers' absence would likely remain permanent. Vision couldn't deny the large part he had played in the destruction of his own 'family', much less spend any time worrying about how to label the broken unit or adjust to these new circumstances.

His stomach hurt at the mere thought of the Sokovia Accords. He had signed the documents that had taken everyone away, and while he knew it was unchangeably true, he still just couldn't seem to accept the mistake. A single word, nothing more than ink on paper, had cost a man his ability to walk. It had taken away the innocence of a child and the father of a son. It had robbed two of the most powerful men on Earth of their mutual trust, and it had nearly cost two other men their families. Worst of all - Vision had taken another home from Wanda Maximoff, despite knowing that she had lacked a true one for more than a decade. His regret was absolutely crippling when he thought of how he had hurt Wanda.

So, once these bitter memories began coursing through his mind, Vision stopped flying somewhere above Milan - he was far too exhausted to keep track of his guilt and stay in the air at the same time. He landed softly on a vacant backroad, underneath a lonely street lamp surrounded by beige apartment buildings and cobblestone walkways, and began walking aimlessly forward. There was no destination in mind, but here it was dark and vacant and quiet: the perfect place to think without worrying about being seen.

So far, Vision had remained completely silent regarding his panicked interaction with Captain Rogers a couple nights ago. There was certainly no one he cared to mention it to, that was for sure. He may have acted like a traitor by signing the accords in the first place, but the aftermath of his choice had turned him against Stark. Of course it had! Nearly everyone had decided Stark had ultimately stood in the wrong: Natasha Romanoff, Prince T'Challa, even Colonel Rhodes had realized their support was ultimately a mistake.

Wanda had known which side was right from the beginning - of course she had known, how stupid Vision was to have not understood earlier. She had been raised in the streets of an imprisoned country, whose government had failed to protect its citizens by relinquishing control to a foreign body. The US had invaded Sokovia's infrastructure, supporting wealthy politicians rather than giving power back to the impoverished people themselves. Didn't the situation ring a bell? As soon as those accords hit the table, Wanda must have decided she wasn't signing. She couldn't possibly relinquish her autonomy again, not after the consequences her people had suffered after experiencing it themselves.

How ironic that the accords would be named after a country viciously fighting against its own systematic regulation.

Knowing that Wanda had fought against this fate, Vision had called Rogers, and he hoped that the Captain had been successful at following his instructions. Hoping to help ensure Wanda's freedom now was a small price to pay after being responsible for her imprisonment. Plenty of penance still remained as well, if Vision hoped to ever be able to forgive himself.

But could she ever forgive him?

That was the true question, one that had kept Vision awake and running for 30 hours straight. Flying had often helped clear his mind, but it seemed as though spending time in the air was now only a temporary distraction. Every bad thing which followed him had finally caught up to his speed, and if there was anything Vision couldn't escape, it was what happened inside his head.

Moving along solid ground didn't relieve much of his restlessness either, even as he continued alone through the dim alleyways and around thriving corner hedges. First he simply walked, but after a while he felt his frustration and worry beginning to pool over, and his focused stride turned quicker and angrier. He definitely couldn't find the energy to truly run, but there was so much pressure in his chest and acid in his stomach that he felt as though he could scream for days on end and still find no relief.

This was true loneliness. Vision had only felt it once before, and that time, it hadn't been an emotion of his own. Being a second hand witness of Wanda's stronger feelings was sometimes useful, but on this occasion, remembering his first experience with isolation only made things worse. He missed being the one who distracted her from pain, rather than being its cause.

He continued looking through Milan's back roads, though for what exactly, he wasn't sure. Maybe he wasn't searching for anything at all, and instead continued looking fervently ahead so as to keep from turning back the way he came. Vision was nearly certain Stark had yet to notice his absence, so theoretically, he had all the time in the world to spend in the darkened streets.

Rogers had said he would somehow give him an update, and the more time passed, the more nervous Vision became that the few Avengers who remained on the run hadn't been successful at the prison. What if the Captain himself had been taken into the custody of the Raft? What if Vision was the only one left with any idea where the Avengers may be being held, or the kind of dangers they may soon face there?

And then, in the middle of yet another descent into the rabbit hole of worry, the Vision suddenly stopped in his tracks. It was still quiet all around him, and there was no one else to be seen wandering the streets. But he had not seen it, and he had not heard it...he had felt it. Something - or rather, someone - had began watching him from the shadows.