#“CALL HIM SHIP OF THESEUS THE WAY NONE OF HIS ORIGINAL PARTS ARE LEFT”

[bat-luun]

just saw shane fanart so horrid i cant even put it into words........

[literameera]

White Sails

2433 words

The oceans going to swallow him whole some day and only then could he die happy.

Caspian already gave his soul to the sea, his first great love. Initially I was excited for him and how he got to live out his dreams. He’d write to me about his exploits, I’d gasp and laugh when appropriate, as if he can see, and finally when the stories ended, I’d write to say that I’ve been living the same way: wake up, work, eat, sleep and mostly anticipate. He’d tease that I live like a widow refusing to believe her husband's dead, wasting away staring out the window, hoping for him to someday return to her. Like the ship of Theseus every time he left a part of him had been replaced, how long has he been a man I couldn't recognise, a ghost wearing my lover’s skin.

Only the wooden planks stepped on by Theseus himself belong to the original ship, the rest are imposters high off the glory of His name. Your skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days – and it’s been longer than that since my hands held his, the wind already swept all memories of my words from his mind. He can only belong to one and she’s infinitely larger than me. To him, her cold embrace feels like coming home. It’s selfish – I’d remind myself – selfish to want to steal what makes him happy all because I feel lonely, he’s loved the ocean long before he’s loved me, and he will long after. I can only hope she’s kind when she does finally take him. I’ve heard that saltwater burns your lungs and that a body only sinks for a moment and as it fills with water it floats to the top, I don’t want them to find his body, he wouldn’t want them to either. I hope his clothes weigh him down and 80% becomes all of him, that he sinks to Atlantis and the sun never feels him again, we don’t deserve it.

But then he comes home, the wind in his hair, salt clinging to his skin and horribly chapped lips, he kisses me hello and I get a taste of what he feels. He tells me he’s missed the warm water from the shower while I wash his locks, that his land legs haven’t grown back yet so can I hold on just a little tighter ‘to make sure I don’t fall of course’. I tell him our neighbours' gossip and he laugh and gasps when appropriate and says that he’s missed the shop at the end of the street, in the morning he’ll grab groceries and those chocolates he’s loved since he was a kid, and some things never change. When it’s quiet and we lull we watch the sun set, sitting on a linoleum countertop in the kitchen, he glows orange in its light and tells me he’s missed me.

When a whale dies its body sinks to the benthic zone, there where there’s no sun, no blood, no heat, no me, or him the oceans creatures eat on its flesh, their entire life's sustenance reliant on an animal they’ve never seen alive and blobfish get their namesake feature from the rapid shift in pressure, they essentially burst while being pulled up by fishermen. The universe is kept spinning by forces we don’t know and can’t name and one day the sun could burst, and we wouldn’t know until 8 minutes later when its light should touch us and won’t. But it did that day, the light travelled through a solar system to shine on him, and shine on me, and that’s how we met. It was fate. Eight years later it’s still fate when Caspian wakes up beside me, his skin a warm brown, like the terracotta pots he brings back to accommodate my ever-growing garden, and his tousled hair a sun-bleached orange, the roots betray their natural umber colour (the same as the eyes he was currently hiding behind tired palms), men like him are born out of stardust, and they can’t help but to replicate its heat. He’s looking at me now, his warm hands place a stray strand of my own umber hair behind my ear and pauses on my cheek, my bronze skin a slight contrast to his, brown eyes reflecting brown.

‘Let’s go over the plan, alright Leya?’ He breaks the silence, ‘we’ll lock up, give the keys to Theo and Honora, they promised to water our plants and dust the place while we’re gone, we pick up your jumper from the market –Eilidh promised it’ll be done by then- and then it’s me, you and wherever you can land your finger on a map.’

‘Yeah, I can’t wait. Me, you and The Caspian’ the smile I give him falters and my bottom lip trembles. He frowns.

It was my idea to come with him, I was tired of being alone and he was tired of forgetting synonyms of vast for his letters home, I knew he exhausted all the ways to say I love you when he started to transcript theology to me:

‘They believe that next to Christ, that’s what they call him, there was a man that lived in sin, two in fact but only one of them matters. They don’t know anything about this man, not even his name, except for his last words. And they were that of forgiveness and salvation. A man whose entire history is left out of the book that chronicles it. We know nothing of his home, his family, his life, not even his crimes, but we know that he loved and was loved in return. I don’t believe a lick of it but by God these people are good storytellers.’

I did want to go. Maybe the second I see the flickering reflected crescent moon on the ocean waves I’d decide I never wanted to leave, that the past 25 years of living and four years waiting can all be justified by that one experience. But I also couldn’t just leave. He was the one with adventures and loose ties and sea salt, and I’m the one that waits. The diligent partner with a cup of tea and open arms for him, who were we if not that? Who am I without anticipation and loneliness? For years, my life was contingent on feeling and watching a ticking clock, and now I just get to be free? It doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound fair on the woman I used to be, the one still waiting. He knows how I feel, he must, from the furrow of an eyebrow I know he’s got me pegged.

‘Remember the night before I left- the first time that is- and I kept going over lists, obligations and checking everything twice, I even meal prepped your food for months in advance. And you told me everything will still be here when I get back...’ He pauses to hold my face in both hands, brown eyes locked on brown eyes to make sure I was listening, ‘everything will still be here when we get back. If you don’t want to go that’s fine, we won’t, I’ll spend the next six months right here with you, and every day after that if you want me to. I’m tired of you being alone. But if you do want to go... We lock up, see the world and come back, it’s that easy.’ With that he kisses my temple -the most delicate part of the head – and climbs out of bed.

Honora and Theo promised to give all the leftover perishable foods to the family around the corner, they have seven kids and not enough to feed them all. They also ensured once a week every plant will be watered, all letters brought in, and the surfaces periodically dusted. The jumper Eilidh had made was beautiful, she told us wool is preferable when wet because it resists water and keeps you warm. She made it green, in case I miss the trees, and Caspian paid her double. I had hoped the air would be electric, brimming with something, as if it knew I’m leaving this time too. Everything was the same, same as it's always been and same as it always will. And I won’t be, I’ll go out there, replace my ships planks and come back me, but not wholly or maybe as more, and if Caspian’s with me the whole time who would notice the change, all of my red strings connect back to his.

It was half a day's journey to the port, and I felt it all. At some point my head was pulled to rest on his shoulder and every time the sun shone particularly bright he held a hand over my eyes to shield them. When we were close to enough to the sea to smell it, the briny tang light in the air, he came into himself, as if he swallowed sunlight, and grinned.

I hate this. Caspian told me I will at first, I haven’t got the familial love he has. A runaway father that was only 19 when he met his future wife at the port. The family was forcibly moved to a landlocked town when opportunities dimmed and Caspian's childhood was spending every holiday possible making the hours long treks to the beach, with just enough time to wiggle his toes in the sand and swallow lungsful of water when learning to swim, and when he was older it was learning how to sail with his father. Finally, it’d get too cold to continue so his mother would swaddle him in towels and place him on her lap, until he eventually grew too big for her, together they’d watch the sun set. He told me once that it was like the water was just a mirror and everything radiated pink and orange and golden hues until finally... darkness, and there was twice as many stars as usual. Then they’d go home and count down till the next summer. His love was intergenerational, it’ll grow on you, trust me. But it won’t, I hate this. I feel sick & disoriented, it’s too loud and quiet at the same time. Like when people move from a bustling city, heavy in smog and movement, to a quaint village, and there they find the crickets and pollen too much to bear. There was none of the sounds I was accustomed to and all too many of ones I wasn’t. I can’t even swim.

How did we plan for weeks and not think that I would need to know how to swim?

Caspian had finished prepping the sails and letting us go in the wind's direction, promising he’ll take us as far East as he can find – and then carry on. He had tried to explain all the terms to me, but words like ‘jib’ and ‘hull’ and ‘tiller’ easily slipped out of my mind like water. Instead, I stood by the helm and just watched him work, focusing on the beads of sweat running down his forehead and pushing supper down as far deep as it goes, as to not ruin this for him. When he had finished, he gave me the tour, showing me the saloon, where to cook, where to rest, where to pray, how to store in such a small space and when I was overwhelmingly exhausted from the information swimming in my head, he grabbed some pillows and blankets and led me back to the cockpit. There he prepped everything like it was our bed at home and laid down, gently pulling me down with him, our knees were bent awkwardly, and we were closer together than usual. That’s when I understood When I was younger my mother would bring me to visit her friends and after the initial gasps and hugs and ‘my how you’ve grown!’ they would largely ignore me to talk to each other. One of her friends, Mariam, had a baby boy that would sleep in a wooden bassinet pushed to the wall closest to where I was sitting, when he did stir, they’d finally address me again and tell me to rock him slightly, let him be lulled back to rest. Here, we were lightly rocked side to side by Poseidon himself and entire galaxies shining down on us, like a sleeping baby in a bassinet. I didn’t know there could be so many stars and still such a vast darkness. Caspian told me about the constellations he knows and the ones he’s made up, his own mythologies mapped out above us. And when I was too tired to listen, eyes drooping and his words bleeding into each other he tenderly held my elbow to help me up, shifting so I could rest my weight on him, and walked me to the bed, trying as best he could to push my dead weight into the cramped space. Leaving only for a moment to bring the pillows back in, before climbing into bed besides me.

The next morning, we stopped on still waters, and he taught me how to swim. In the afternoons, after I showed him my grandmothers' recipes for the cold, he tried to teach me more sailing terms and by the evening I’d read to him under the dimming light, I’d have to stop after a moment, too nauseous to read the words. It was a routine we near perfected in a month. I could tell he was happy; he was drowning in it. Shockingly, I was too, a saloon that smelled like garlic and spice, secured down potted herbs, dry storage spaces filled to the brim with my books, and his slow breaths when I should be asleep, was enough. On days the wind was too bad to pause he’d make me use the knots he taught me and shout what I need to do if we tip over, the exhilaration was more than anything I’d ever known.

Resources would run low, and he’d dock in the port of a country I'd never heard of, a culture unfamiliar and language unknown. With limited communication and lots of points & smiles we’d buy what we need and when our food was restocked, I’d ask to stay a few days more. We’d integrate ourselves in the local community and learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ and plan to return in the holiday season. We’d make pocket communities across the world and relish in hot water and write letters to the people back home.

[silvers-hero-vault]

all the memories remain

read under the cut or on ao3

After gaining back his memories during the confrontation with his other version, Vision tries to figure out what happened in the time he has no recollection of. He discovers that the world has changed and moved on, but still, he tries to find a place for himself again.

WandaVision spoilers!

Warnings: none, some mentions of canon-typical violence

Words: 4.796

AN: I wanted to explore what white Vision could do after taking off in the middle of the fight, never to be seen again.

This is set in the same 'universe' as my other WandaVision fix-it "You thought my name's Ralph?". the stories aren't directly connected though so you don't have to read the other fic to understand this one.

Tag list (wasn't sure who to tag so I tagged the people who interacted with the post were I asked if anyone would want to read this...) : @satans-bae-and-queen @queenlovett @bi-tiger @thoughts-and-travel @andi0017 @synagtala @friedchickening @awesomedeepstudentmilkshake @spacetummy @sidninkoutek @evenstar06 @rainyfestivalshoepainter @thatoddgirl777 @data-is-my-favorite-android @feluciasynthezoid @i-kno-who-i-am @marvel-starwarsfangirl

After the memories had streamed back into his consciousness, the pain and death, but also the joy and friendship and overall the love that he had experienced with Wanda by his side, he had spared the other version of him one last glance before taking off through the round window in the ceiling.

He didn’t know where he was going at first, just that he needed to get out of Westview, away from the humans that had stripped his memories from him and tried to make him into a mindless weapon. The ones that had tried to make him kill Wanda, the one that was so prominent in his memories and the person that he had loved so dearly until everything had fallen apart.

While he rifled through his memories one location came up again and again, often in connection to Wanda but there were other people. Memories with the other residents of the house that he had spent a considerate amount of time in. He remembered faintly that there had been a fight, later on, that drove them all apart and he found his memories drawn to himself and Wanda once again. They were in a dark street and suddenly he remembered the pain slamming through him, saw the spear pressing up through his upper body.

With a shake of his head Vision let go of the painful memories. For that was his name, Vision, and he would keep it, if only for his memories sake. The name felt strange and not like his but at the same time it felt right and through his contemplation he came to the conclusion that he would stay with the name after all. Because it was his, like always had been and always will be.

Another look through his memories, this time more careful to stay away from any of the painful ones, he found what he had been looking for. The location were so many of them, the avengers, had lived. The avengers compound. He still knew the exact location of the compound and he changed his flying route to lead him towards the compound.

Vision didn’t know how long it took him to reach the compound he saw so clearly in many of his memories, but when he arrived, it was to find only ruins. Another look back at his memories told him that this was the right place, but he didn’t remember its destruction. The last memory he had of the compound, the building had still been intact. But now, hovering above the debris, he realised that it looked more like a battlefield than the place where once people had lived together to form an alliance against the threats that humanity faced.

He decided that he had to go somewhere else, get information on what had happened and he was sure that such information could be provided through the internet. Surely something as large as the destruction of the avengers compound would have reached the public. There must have been official statements what had happened to the place that earth’s mightiest heroes had called their home.

Of course, he could have just checked in that moment, needing no actual computer to access information, just like he didn’t need it to know what the ship of Theseus was. The knowledge for that was easily accessible for him, just like any other information he desired.

But for some reason, Vision felt the need to find someone who could answer his questions first, before he resorted to getting those answers himself.

He made his way towards the city of New York, just like before flying high enough that he wouldn’t be detected before he reached his destination. Even though there was surely still a fight in Westview happening, he didn’t dare risk to be sighted by the military or someone who would contact the right authorities. He at least needed this opportunity to find out what had happened in his absence before they could take him captive again. He didn’t plan for it to happen, but if it did happen, he wanted to have the answers to his questions by then.

The flight to New York didn’t take as long as the flight from Westview to the remains of the compound had taken him. The streets were full of people, but there weren’t as many as he would have expected from the city that was known for never sleeping.

The usual buzzing of the city that he remembered was now missing and somehow the people all seemed sorrowful, as if something was holding them down and away from how they would normally go about their day. But at the same time there seemed to be a happiness permeating from them, as if a good thing had happened. A good thing he had no knowledge of.

Vision landed on the sidewalk near his destination. Immediately, several people turned around to him and he could hear the shocked whispers of the people that were standing near or passing by. He remembered that he had died, so the people must think him dead and therefore impossible to stand in front of them. But at the same time another pressing matter occurred to him. Not only was he dead in the public’s eye, his appearance had changed as well. He had seen it when the other version of him had given him back his memories, but had not yet realised the impact the white colour of his new body would have.

He remembered being able to change his form at will but even as he thought about doing it, Vision knew that it wouldn’t work. He remembered that he had done it before, but he couldn’t remember how he had done it. Wasn’t sure if he could still do it, with only a few pieces of his original body remaining.

He still knew how he could change the arrangement of his atoms to phase through things but he could not tell how he had changed his appearance before. It might have been connected to the mind stone, but that was gone now. Not a part of him anymore.

Noticing once again the crowd that had started to gather around him, Vision paid his inner contemplation no further mind and he started the short walk towards the tower he remembered as the former headquarters of the avengers, before they had moved into the compound and further away from the city.

As he reached the tower, he took flight again and flew up onto the roof of the building. He knew that the avengers had lived in the higher levels before moving out so he would have a greater chance of meeting someone there.

Everything was empty. There was only little furniture to see from where he was standing and everything of the interior was dark and unwelcoming. It seemed unlikely for anyone to be here. A quick look through all the windows inside told him that he was right. There was no one here. Thinking back, he had not expected anyone to be, but he had still been urged to check. In case he didn’t remember something vital that would have told him that there was someone still living here regardless of all the things that he remembered and the fact that they had all lived in the compound after Ultron.

Still, Vision entered by phasing through a window, because even though he wouldn’t find a person to answer his questions, he was still inclined to check if anything of value had been left behind. Upon entering he found that the floor had been cleared of most furniture and the rest that remained had been covered with white sheets. There were no indications that anyone had been here in a longer period of time.

Vision took a few more steps inside, his gaze wandering over the ghostly appearance of the furniture under the sheets and the dark shadows that resulted from he low lighting of the room. After he finished his round through the room, he determined that he wouldn’t find answers here, and therefore had to result to the solution he hadn’t wanted to go to before.

He closed his eyes and with a mere thought, he obtained the information that he had needed. It had been over every news channel and multiple other ways of communication. The avengers compound had been the place of a large battle against an alien army. A battle far greater than the battle of New York had been. Not much more was to be found about the incident as it hadn’t been covered sufficiently by the media.

Another detail caught his attention. The date of the most recent reports. They all had the same year attached at the end. 2023.

Almost on reflex, he teared his eyes open and took a step backwards, not taking any more information in. He looked back at the memories he had obtained with the help of his other self. The last he remembered was the stone being ripped out of his forehead. That had been in 2018.

The conclusion that came to him had been inevitable, but all the same he didn’t want to believe it in the first moment.

It had been five years since he had been killed by Thanos. He was missing five years of information which explained his inability to find any of the avengers. He didn’t even know if they were still alive.

Even though he knew he wouldn’t like what he would find, Vision tapped into the information he had at his disposal again, looking for answers.

He found them immediately, the news of the dead heroes and the return of everyone who had disappeared was still plastered everywhere, taking over every news headline and front-pages of newspapers and magazines. He found himself among the dead heroes that were mourned by the public, but he wasn’t the only one.

Tony Stark, the famed Iron Man, and his creator, was among the fallen. As well as Steve Rogers, Captain America. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff had also lost her life in the fight for the rest of the universe.

As Vision took this information in, he decided to find anyone of the remaining avengers that he could find. He knew he had no where to go, but maybe one of them could help him find a place again.

He couldn’t go back to Wanda. Well, he could, but he didn’t want to burden her with his presence. The last time he had seen her, he had tried to crush her skull and then he had left while his other self and Wanda had faced the current threat against them and Westview.

He searched the internet again, for any information were any of the avengers could be at the moment, but there was no forthcoming information. SHIELD was no more, which meant that he had no idea where to find Fury, one of the only people who could know where the others were. He would not go back to SWORD, given that they were the ones who took him apart and put him together again and took his memories and everything that had made him Vision away from him.

His search didn’t give him any results, but he remembered faintly of having visited the farm were Clint Barton lived with his family. If he had any luck, the archer could be found there.

With a new destination and something that could have been called hope, Vision took of and started towards the next place that he hoped would give him answers.

***

Everywhere he went, Vision found places fallen into decay and disarray where he remembered a normal house with residents living inside. All the streets that he found abandoned, he remembered to be full of live and laughing children. All the overgrown gardens he remembered to be well cared for in the past.

The difference between what he remembered the world to look like from what felt like a week ago, compared to how it looked now as he passed over the streets of countless cities and small towns, was unsettling at best.

The Barton farm was not how he remembered it either. The last time he and the others had visited on behalf of Clint’s daughter, who had insisted that all of them visit for her birthday, the farm had been well cared for. There had been small messes all around, but it had been caused by the children that left their things lying around everywhere. Now, the house had been overgrown by the plants that had already started to make their accent up the outer walls of the house five years ago. The garden looked like no one had cared to maw the lawn in a long time and the windows were all dull and covered in grime.

After touching onto the ground, Vision started to walk towards the house, slow steps taking him nearer and nearer to finding out if there would be someone at home. If not, he wasn’t sure were he would go next.

He climbed the steps in front of the veranda and took a few hesitant steps towards the door before carefully nocking on it. He could hear sounds from inside, muffled voices and silent music. With only a moment to brace himself, the door opened and before him stood Clint Barton.

He looked worn out and wary, older. His hair had changed too but he wasn’t able to point out what exactly it was that had changed. The archer didn’t move after opening the door, didn’t say a word either. It seemed to Vision as if the man had been momentarily frozen in shock.

It took a moment before he recovered and Clint took a step backwards, his eyes widened slightly as he seemed to register what he was seeing. Then his brows furrowed, a frown marring his face.

He seemed uncertain when he asked: “Who are you?”. The question sounded more like a statement and Vision took it as such.

“I think you know.”, he said, then he paused. His voice sounded different than in his memories. Only slightly, but enough to be noticeable.

The man in front of him still seemed shocked, but the frowning had lessened and Vision interpreted that as a good sign. “Why do you look so different?”

Vision looked down at his hand, noticing the white pallor once more. He had nearly banished that part from his mind, assured by his memories that this was not what he looked like.

He looked up at Clint again and looked into his eyes. His gaze then wandered over the archers shoulder, seeing the living room and behind that the kitchen. He could see Lila sitting at the kitchen table, talking animatedly with Laura, Clint’s wife.

It felt like he was intruding and he suddenly remembered the children he had seen in Westview, Wanda’s children. He shook the thought from his mind and, remembering the question, he met Clint’s gaze again.

“I’m afraid that’s a rather long story.”

Clint shrugged. “I mean, I have no idea what is going on, but you could come in and tell me.”, he stepped aside and after Vision had passed the threshold, he closed the door behind them and continued talking. “And by the way, I know someone who might be able to help fix your looks a bit. No promises of course, but I could give him a call.”

He nodded without turning back to him. His gaze wandered down to his white hand again. “I will give it some thought.”

***

Vision spent one day in Clint’s house. He told the archer what he remembered of the things that happened. Waking up in the capsule in the temporary SWORD basis, being send out to eliminate Wanda and the other Vision, gaining back his memories and leaving Westview.

In exchange, Clint told him what had happened in the last five years. After Vision had been killed, Thanos had succeeded in his plan to eliminate half of the universe’s population. Some of the avengers had been left behind and after five years, Tony figured out how to travel through time, which resulted in the avengers fixing everything and bringing the dusted back.

Followed by that had been a grand fight, the one that had found the compound destroyed and afterwards, there had been a funeral for Tony. Steve had gone back in time to get the stones to the locations they had come from, but he never returned and wasn’t actually dead, just old.

He spent the night there and in the morning, he thanked Clint for letting him stay and answering his questions. Afterwards, Vision left the small farm behind again.

He made his way back to New York, back to the empty tower. He had decided that he would stay there until he was able to figure out what he would do next. He had played with the thought of returning to Westview, but he had abandoned it again. The other version of him was there and he wouldn’t dare to intrude on his and Wanda’s life.

Wanda. She was the one who was most prominent in his memories, even though he was unable to forget and remembered every instance of his life, she was the one he saw when he closed his eyes. He knew what it was, of course. The last time he had been with Wanda before the stone was ripped out of his forehead, they had wanted to settle down together. Deep down, he still wanted to, but he also knew like that wasn’t an option.

He didn’t know what had happened in Westview after he had left. If they had won the fight or if the other witch had overpowered Wanda. Or if Tyler Hayward had managed to turn things in his favour. But at the same time, he believed that Wanda had won, because she is powerful, always had been.

As he paced through the compound and watched the streets of New York City underneath him, he wondered if the other Vision and the children were still there. If they were safe again. He hadn’t been in there long and back then, he had only been driven by orders, without a single thought of his own. But now, looking back at everything and with all his memories at his disposal again, he realised that he would like to go back. To go back to Wanda, the love of his life. Still, after everything that happened, he felt like he couldn’t.

All the same, Vision made his way to Westview again, not to go back to Wanda, but to see how things had turned out. The feeling of not knowing what went down in the town was one he could no longer tolerate.

Just like before, the flight to Westview happened without any noteworthy occurrences and he reached the town just as the sun began to rise up over the horizon. The deep orange light drenched everything in a golden light and the silence seemed to echo around him.

Belatedly, he noticed that the red barrier that had separated Westview from the outside was gone. The town sat in the tranquility of dawn as if nothing had ever happened. As if there hadn’t been a fight and as if the town hadn’t been trapped inside an energy field for days. Thinking about what had happened here while floating slightly over the street while moving forward, Vision realised that he didn’t even know what exactly had happened here.

He had his orders, at first. Obliterate Vision and Wanda. Nothing more. Then, when the other Vision had helped him gain back the memories that had been locked away from him, he had spent all his time trying to sort of the whirlwind of memories, thoughts and emotions inside his head. He only knew one thing, he had recognised Wanda’s magic everywhere. It had been all around him, filling up the air.

Now it was gone, he couldn’t feel her power around him anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse that the possibility of meeting her here was very slim. Ever since he had the time to become better acquainted with his memories agin, he had walked a very fine line between wanting to meet Wanda again and fearing that seeing her would make everything worse for her. It was as if, deep down, he still had a bit of hope that one day, Wanda might come back to him and that they could start anew when that moment came.

But his logical thinking stopped him from really believing in it. His mind told him that it would be better for her, and possibly for him, when they stayed apart. She didn’t have to know that he remembered everything again, that he remembered her.

The sun had risen a bit higher when he turned towards Sherwood Drive. The golden light drenching everything in its colour had gotten lighter and the first birds had started to chirp. As he neared the property, he wasn’t sure if he was at the right place. A quick look around told him that, yes, he was on the right street and the house that he was nearing was number 2800, the house Wanda had lived in.

It couldn’t really be called a house anymore. It was nothing more than the foundation were a house was supposed to be. It looked like it had never been build.

The memory of how he purchased the house pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. It was one of the memories he hadn’t taken a closer look at. He had known that it was there, but it hadn’t been important until know.

He had bought the home as a surprise for Wanda, even before they had officially decided to settle down together. When they were in Ireland, everything had felt so right between them that he already knew that she would say yes, even before he had asked her. So he had purchased the house and it was supposed to be build soon after the bought it. And when Wanda had said yes to his proposition, he knew that he had made the right choice. But their bubble of happiness hadn’t lasted long as a spear was plunged through his chest and everything they had hoped for fell apart.

A smile ghosted over his lips when he thought back to writing his little message to Wanda onto the property deed, drawing a heart around it.

Noticing how far the sun had risen over the horizon, he shook himself out of his memories and faced the present again. 2023. The house didn’t exist and Wanda had trapped a whole town inside a magical barrier that no one could escape from. He had tried to kill her.

If their was one positive thing in all of this, it was that he hadn’t succeeded in killing her. If he had, he was sure that he wouldn’t have gotten his memories back.

Once again he made himself focus on the present. Nothing was left for him here, which would mean that he should go back to the tower, or find somewhere else he could stay. But he decided against it, making his way towards the town-square. If anyone who had been tasked with cleaning everything up was still there, they had to be in or near the town centre, where they could overlook everything.

One person was already outside and talking on her phone when Vision reached the town-square. The black woman, wearing a blue SWORD uniform, pacing back and forth in front of the cinema.

He hesitated to approach her, the SWORD logo on her shirt holding him back for a moment, but he couldn’t remember seeing her when he woke up, so he decided that she was probably to be trusted.

She turned towards him as soon as she saw him approach and his steps didn’t falter on his way over to her. She lowered her phone and her eyes went wide, possibly because she was realising who he was.

As soon as he was in hearing distance, she spoke up. “What are you doing here?”

He stopped where he was and looked a her for a moment. She didn’t seem scared like he would have expected, just confused. It seemed like he would be able to have a proper conversation with her after all.

“I do hope I am not interrupting. I had left so fast during the fight and I wanted to check if everything was alright here. Did you apprehend the ones that gave me the order to kill Wanda and my other self?”

The woman in front of him pocketed her phone and looked at him with an expression of disbelief. She seemed stunned and didn’t say anything for several minutes before she managed to get out of her state of shock. She shook her head slightly and blinked a few times before looking at him again.

“I’m sorry, do you mean Hayward? He was arrested.”, she paused for a moment and Vision waited. It seemed like she wanted to say something else and was searching for words. “What do you mean with ‘your other self’? You mean Vision, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, I know I look different but I am just as much Vision as he is.”

She shook her head and corrected him. “Was. He and the twins, they aren’t here anymore. Wanda had created them with her magic and she needed to let them go in order to free the town and pull the barrier down.”

He turned the words over in his head. When he came here, he had thought that Wanda would have left with Vision and the children, began a life somewhere else. But this put things in another perspective entirely. Another question came to mind then, one that had been present since he had been at the foundations of the house. “Where is Wanda now?”

The woman snorted and shrugged her shoulders. She seemed more relaxed now than she had moments ago. “She left, I don’t know where to.”

He frowned. It was not like the Wanda he knew to just leave and let others sort out a mess she had created. She would have wanted to help. The woman seemed to see his hesitation and took a step forward, holding out her hand. “I’m captain Monica Rambeau.”

He took the hand and shook it. “It is good to meet you, captain Rambeau. I am sure you know who I am.”

She took a step backwards again, letting her hand sink back to her side. “Actually, I’m not sure. Are you Vision or not? Because I saw the other Vision yesterday and he definitely looked different than you.”

He nodded. “Ah, yes. I apologise. I am Vision, just as much as the other was Vision, maybe even more than him. My body has been taken apart and rebuild by SWORD, as far as I can tell, but I am still me. I posses all memories of what happened before my death five years ago.”

Captain Rambeau let out a slow breath and averted her eyes from him for a moment, then she nodded. “I take it someone filled you in on what happened.”

She waited for him to confirm her statement and as soon as he nodded, she went on. “There’s really nothing you could do here anymore, everything’s organised already. We’ll still be here for a few days though, to overlook everything.”, she hesitated for a short moment and her voice seemed to have softened when she continued. “Do you have a place to stay?”

He hesitated and gave her question some thought before answering. He had a place, theoretically, but he knew that he couldn’t stay in the tower for too long. Surely someone would start to use it again, sooner or later. And he didn’t know what to do with his time either.

“Theoretically, I do, but I am not sure for how long I can stay there.”

She took out her phone and started to type something. When she was finished, Captain Rambeau looked up at him again. “Would you like to work for SWORD? Well, for me actually, but it would be under SWORD’s name.”

He nodded, not needing to think about it for long. He needed something to do and he could help. Even though it was SWORD, captain Rambeau seemed like someone he could trust. “I would, yes.”

A smile spread over he face and it made her look younger, but at the same time she didn’t loose her professionalism. “Great, meet me here later. I can give you the details by this afternoon.”