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smellycinnamonthundahfudge · 3 years

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In My Dreams, We're Still Together

“Why is it so important to dream?” a faint voice of a woman asks.

“In my dreams, we're still together.”

-----------------------------------

Wanda opens her eyes.

She's... unsure, of where she is.

Like her synapses are splitting, her neurons are firing in all directions, and her mind is about to combust from tearing itself in half… It almost feels like… she’s glitching.

Just suddenly caught unawares, dropped into the middle of a simulation, or… a dream, with no idea whatsoever where she came from or how she got here.

She spots Geraldine, or Monica- her, that woman, that SWORD agent.

She's standing in front of her, pleading some case about how she understands, how she "knows" what Wanda was going through right now.

All Wanda could manage was a wry, sad, lonely, chuckle.

She feels tired. Like life has drained every fiber from her, and she’s just… a hollow, cracked, shell. No longer a live human teeming with breaths of air and purpose… if she was ever even such a thing to begin with, considering what Agatha revealed to her.

But “Understand?”

Understand???

Wanda may not completely comprehend where she is, or what was happening right now, but the losses she’s suffered through still feel as raw inside her as the days she lost every single one of her family.

And so, No.

No, Monica did not understand.

She just could not possibly, know, comprehend, understand, what Wanda was feeling right now.

Wanda felt so empty inside she sacrificed everything, her conscience, her soul, her family, everything.

For a vague copy, a shadow… of the living breathing feeling, loving, man she dreamed of sharing her life with.

She sacrificed everything.

For someone that didn’t even know who she was. Someone who didn’t trust her, believe her, and maybe even… feared her.

Someone who no longer saw her as she was… but as the villain.

Just like, everyone else.

And Wanda was fine with being the villain, people already feared her nevertheless, even when she fought for them. She made herself the villain to get her family back.

But, she still lost him anyways, all the same.

So Monica can stand there and go on and on about how she understands.

She understands nothing.

Wanda didn’t even understand her own pain, and anger, the vicious black hatred inside her that erupted after being ignored for so long. And, desperation.

The hatred for a universe that sought to take away everything and everyone Wanda dared to risk caring about.

The hatred and anger that would just immediately shield her fragile psyche everytime someone dared to pop her precious ideal dream bubble.

And the desperation. For a life of normalcy she had some semblance of in her childhood, but one she can never seem to have, no matter what she did.

Westview, her transformed version of it, was her dream.

It was her parents, her family TV nights, Pietro trying to change the show, Vis learning TV tropes and cheesy romance storyline gestures for the first time from her.

Them shyly, hesitantly (for good reason) wondering and secretly hoping for a future, but daring to still do so anyways despite of everything.

“I think Mom and Dad would’ve loved it.”

Those same nights of watching in awe of Mary Tyler Moore and her grace and beauty and charm. Wanda wishing she could be like her when she grew up, laughing at her and Dick’s shenanigans.

And looking back at Mama and Papa on the couch, from where she laid on the floor as near as they allowed her to be to the TV.

Wanda faintly remembers The Dick Van Dyke Show, Bewitched, The Brady Bunch, Malcolm in the Middle, and all the rest of them flashing through her mind, in the same vein as her and Vis’ dangerously hopeful conversations for a shared future.

Those fictional sitcoms of the past and foolish daydreams of the future, all brightly flashed, when her mind and her body finally broke, and everything she was, her sadness, her hopes, her past, and her future, came flooding out of her.

She thought of her parents when she made Westview.

“I think Mom and Dad would’ve loved it,” says the Pietro she wanted more than anything to be hers.

“Yeah, I think they would have,” Wanda replied like the man she was speaking to actually knew them.

Westview was, and still is, her dream.

It was her living the life she wanted with the man she wanted to live it with.

And her hate and anger for the universe depriving her of this dream, her desperation to do everything it took to keep it in her grasp; it all swirled inside her, dizzyingly blurring everything. Corrupting and permeating the inside of her mind, and thus, the world she created from her fingertips.

And Wanda couldn’t see past it anymore.

Her sight consisted of tunnel vision exclusively set on Westview, and Tommy and Billy, and Vis.

Anything else didn’t make sense.

Even if this world of Westview, this family she created on her own, even if they and it themselves were... broken.

It was all Wanda had left.

And so, Monica could never understand.

No one, could ever unders-

Not even-

"You?" Wanda bitterly spits out, “You… understand??” frustratingly in disbelief at this hero trying to talk her down.

Wanda can't help but laugh that sad lonely chuckle again.

"No one could possibly understand what I'm going through right now." Wanda states, affirming it as fact, irrefutable, undeniable, fact.

"The one person I thought-”

Suddenly flashes of Vis shouting at her begging her to put him out of his misery pop back up again in her mind.

“Not even the person I loved so much, I-”

“I sacrificed everything for.” As Wanda closes her eyes when she says the words, all the corrupted actions Wanda’s done to keep hold of this broken fantasy flash her mind, as well as that sight of Vision leaving her.

“Even he doesn't understand. He, doesn't believe me, trust me… If even Vis sees me as the villain, maybe I already am.” The shock in Wanda’s words as she says this only undercutting the tragedy of what she’s done; she genuinely hoped all the wrong she’s done would be worth the sacrifice.

Monica, almost steps back. She doesn’t know if it’s out of fear, pity… But the pain in Wanda as she’s seeing it now is just as tangible and permanent as the pain she felt when Wanda was actually inside her head.

Monica almost fears, Wanda’s too far gone to- … to come back.

Be who she was before she lost Vision.

How can you talk sense to someone who’s all but destroyed themselves from the inside out?

Someone who’s been drowned out by their pain, loss, and anger, they can’t see anything past it.

Monica felt like Wanda was in her most fragile, vulnerable state right now. And that one wrong move, one wrong word, and you could just set her off, exploding and disintegrating everything around her.

“So, don't you stand there, and claim you understand anything,” the crimson energy starts swirling on Wanda’s fingertips once more.

“Because you understand nothing.”

“Nothing,” Wanda doesn’t even hold back the tears that were now falling down her cheek as she voices her vitriol at the hero in front of her, “About what I am feeling right now.”

But even after all the rage she’s spewing, lashing out at Monica. Even after Wanda tries her damnedest to shut out the anguish, the guilt. Her sadness over what all that she’s done was even for, amounting to what. It all eventually comes pouring out.

“If he doesn’t want to be here, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

That’s what Wanda said to their children who saved their father… their father and the love of her life, that she couldn’t bring back.

All she, Tommy, and Billy, wanted was to spend time with him.

Vision’s only still alive because of them.

But she still couldn’t stop him from abandoning them altogether.

“Even after I brought him back…” Wanda’s previously volatile disposition suddenly, disappears.

The grief that was barely being held back, begging to come out, finally did.

“He still left.”

Vision wanted to get as far away from her as possible he was willing to die for it.

Wanda expanded the barrier, their kids ask her where he is… and yet-

“He's still- gone.”

“Wanda…”

Vis appears from their front door, and Monica was about to speak to him about SWORD and Hayward, but Vision looked her in the eyes, and pleaded, for a moment alone with his wife.

Maybe a part of her was feeling pity, or sympathy, for Wanda and Vision, but Monica left them alone. “I’ll stand watch outside. Just know that you don’t have much time.”

Vision nods and thanks the Captain for understanding.

Wanda scoffed at what she said. When did they ever have time?

Wanda currently had her back turned away from Vis, she was wiping away the tears she’d cried in her anger.

Vision stares, at Wanda’s sullen, defeated figure. He’s unsure of what he’s going to do.

He cannot explain, what he feels… for Wanda.

A part of him felt trapped, played with, like he was being controlled, and that he was given sentience yet still bound, forced to play a role he didn’t choose for himself. And every time he’d get the slightest bit of control back, he’d be rewound, dumbed back into sedation.

Vision felt unbelievably at the mercy of some unknown being, unable to take control of his own life, but with enough sentience to know that something was wrong.

He was petrified.

And yet, why does he still feel this torturously irrational emotion that can only be called love, for the one who has been causing him all this pain?

Why does he feel warmth, family, and joy, and home, from someone he doesn’t even remember how he met?

Why does he want to protect, shield, guard, defend, and reach towards to, this woman who violated his mind?

And why, does the sight of Wanda in tears, nearly bring tears out of him as well?

Maybe Wanda could answer the questions that plagued his mind, maybe not.

His entire existence on this world has him grappling, struggling to determine what is real, which of his actions are truly his alone, and which are under Wanda’s control.

But whether or not he’s doing this for the people of West View, for himself, or for Wanda, fact of the matter was that something inside him was telling him that he had to comfort his wife.

He had to bring her back to who she used to be.

He had to go to her.

He had to speak to her, confront her.

He had to love her.

Even if it meant hurting her. Making her say goodbye, having her lose him, again.

He loved her.

Vision stepped forwards and got closer to his wife.

“Wanda...” Vision raised his arm to place his hand on Wanda’s shoulder. Wanda looks at it from her periphery and her face contorts itself, as if she’s trying to hold back- everything.

“I still love you,” Vision admitted, wrapping his arms around Wanda, but exasperation and weariness felt evident in his voice.

Wanda was still turned away from him, Vis essentially hugging her from behind, but he can feel the tension and tiredness in her body, her muscles trembling, despite the exhaustion.

And he can’t help but feel, the guilt in the tears she shed. Tears spilled for him, for what she’d done to him.

“I don't know how. I don't know why.”

“But even after all you've done,”

“I still love you.”

He hears her cry louder, her pain and guilt and self-destruction, pouring out of her little by little. He can feel her, hear her, trying to say something.

“I.. I’m… I didn’t…” Wanda struggles to say, her breath hitching from her sob.

Wanda didn’t want to think about so much of her life, when so much of it just seemed to overflow with loss.

Vital parts of her being, her family that was her only safe haven, the thing she fought for the hardest, all just missing empty cavities now. Where there was hopes for the future and warmth from her past, was replaced with endless pain and grief over losing what she had and could have had.

She was drowning. She really was.

And no one could hear her cries for help. No one was there to catch her when she broke and collapsed.

She couldn’t think. Reason was a privilege known only to those whose emotions didn’t destroy them from the inside out.

She collapsed into herself, lost herself in her own created fake broken fantasy. And she just… she drowned.

“Wanda, I know why you created this world.”

Wanda stops her crying, catches her breath.

He knows.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

“I was told what happened with Thanos and the Mind Stone. But, Wanda, I still don’t know- don’t remember my life, our lives, before West View.”

“I don't remember how I met you. I don't remember how we came to be. I don't remember anything, that we shared. I don't remember why I fell for you, Wanda,” Vis looks at Wanda inquisitively but also devotedly, his unceasing need to figure out how he fell just as pervasive as his love for her.

“I don't know who we were.”

So this is where he’s heading.

“I love you, my darling, and that’s why you need to give me my life, my memories of us, back.”

“I can't-” Wanda grits through her hitched sobs, curling over in Vis’ grasp.

Vision lets her go, heartbroken frustrated to see the woman he loves this far gone. Wanda holds her breath to at least try and control herself, but breaks anyways once she feels the space and distance between her and Vis.

She faces him, “I can't let you know the truth.” Wanda states resolutely, but almost pleading with him, desperate for him not to know.

Before Vis argues otherwise, Wanda gets ahead of him, “If you go back, and find out who you really were, remember everything that we had…” she explains, her fears evident in her rushed petrified speech.

“You'd know why I did this.”

His deed flashes to her mind.

“And you’d know who I was,” placing her hand on her chest as she faces Vis head on“and tell me that this,” Wanda waves her arms around her, pointing to all of Westview, “isn’t me.”

“- Even though that me you knew is long gone by now,” Wanda says, tiredly laughing in self-depreciation at what she’s become.

Wanda looks at the floor, weary. Tears pooling over still, despite the thousands she’d already shed, falling onto that same floor she’s now acutely aware is really just sullen abandoned earth in reality.

Grieving the her that she lost. The them that they lost. And the them they’ve become now, because of her.

Wanda can remember it all. Their past, their struggle to find peace & moments together, the moments they did have, and their hopes for a future that felt so close.

And Vision doesn't.

And Wanda remembers killing off all of it when Vision asked her to kill him.

And Vision doesn't.

Wanda was ready to forsake it all, for a chance to live a new life with him and the home and family they made here.

But here was Vis now, begging for memories of that old lost life back.

Wanda is still staring at the floor, into nothing, vanished in the memories of old Vis, that him begging for brought her back to.

Her tears still flow as she recounts just how innocent, pure, good-hearted, and well-meaningly kind Vis was.

And how much he loved her.

Truly, loved her.

“And you’d tell me to do the “right” thing…”

And Wanda remembers who she used to be. The her that Vis fell for.

The daughter, the sister, the fighter and the rebel, and eventually, once upon a time, the hero. The Avenger, who fought for good even when the rest of the world feared her.

But that was before the world took everything she had from her.

“But then I'd just lose you,” Wanda grimaces, “all over again.” then dissolves once more, as she knows, has known all this time if she’s finally going to be honest, what the right thing was.

Acceptance.

Vis tries to walk over to her, finally wholly understanding, wanting nothing more but to shield and protect Wanda from the hurt she’s currently drowning in but-

“And I can't, I can't-” Wanda pushes him away then stops, still holding onto him. Tells her love the truth.

“I can't lose you,” Wanda finally looks at him directly, grasping onto him so tight, her fear of losing him an overwhelmingly powerful need felt even with just her touch, and sees Vis for who he is, all of who he is, her created copy of her lost beloved, but even still, “not again.”

Vision gently cups Wanda’s face in his right hand, grabs both of hers and plants a soft kiss on them with his other, and admits, “And I don't want to lose you.”

And Wanda breaks down in his arms. Like the first time she did when she truly met him, the tens of other times she had when they were friends, and the thousands of times she did when they were together.

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