Summary: Seeing Vision again after sixty-seven years leaves Wanda shaken. The weight of his waiting presses on her, and guilt mixes with the love she feels for Y/N. Needing clarity, she decides to spend time alone with Vision, revisiting memories of their brief youth together. As the past unfolds, Wanda grapples with what her heart truly wants, while Y/N quietly gives her the space to figure it out—knowing that every choice matters in the endless stretch of eternity.
A/N: Next chapter is going to focus more on Vision and Wanda so buckle up, buttercups.
Chapter 3: Shadows of the Past
For Vision, time had never been linear in this place. Eternity didn’t march forward, it lingered, stretched out in endless sameness, a waiting room without clocks. He had spent what felt like decades, perhaps centuries, standing at the edge of the crowd, watching others move on, choose their eternities, and disappear into whatever came next.
He never moved. He couldn’t.
Every choice felt meaningless without her. Wanda. The first warmth he had ever known, the only person who had looked at him like he wasn’t just another young man fumbling through life but someone who mattered. He had lost her far too soon, and the years without her had become a kind of purgatory.
He endured because of her. For her. If he simply waited long enough, he told himself, she would come.
And now, finally, she had.
Vision had imagined this moment a thousand different ways, but none of them prepared him for the truth: Wanda was different. She carried herself with the weight of an entire life he had missed, and she wasn’t alone. At her side stood another woman, the one who had shared Wanda’s days and nights, her secrets and dreams.
Vision’s heart, if he still had one, ached with joy and jealousy all at once. Wanda was here. His Wanda. But she wasn’t just his anymore.
And in that cruel balance, Vision realized something he had never considered while waiting all those decades: eternity could still break his heart.
The room was quiet, almost too quiet. The confinement of your private quarters felt more suffocating than comforting. The muffled hum of souls moving beyond the walls seemed distant, swallowed up by the silence that had fallen between you and Wanda after Vision had gone.
You sat with her on the edge of the bed, shoulders brushing. Wanda hadn’t said much since. Her hands twisted in her lap, fidgeting like she used to when she was young and nervous, but now it was heavier, weighted with sixty years of life lived without him.
Finally, she whispered, “I don’t even know how to feel.”
You glanced at her, keeping your voice soft. “You don’t have to know yet.”
Her lips parted, but the words came jagged. “It’s just… I grieved him. I put him to rest in my heart. And then I built an entire life with you. And now, now he’s here, and it feels like I should be happy, but instead I just feel… guilty.”
You reached for her hand, untangling her restless fingers with your own. “Guilty for what?”
“For moving on,” Wanda admitted, eyes glossy. “For letting him wait all that time while I was laughing with you, falling asleep next to you, growing old with you. He only ever had me, and I—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I had everything. I had you.”
The words pierced deeper than she realized. You swallowed against the knot in your throat, smoothing your thumb over her knuckles to hide the tremor in your hand.
“You don’t need to apologize for loving me,” you whispered. “You gave me your whole life, Wanda. That’s not nothing.”
Her eyes lifted to yours at last, green with storms. “But what if it isn’t enough? What if I hurt him again by choosing you here?”
The fear you had been biting back finally slipped through, barely audible. “And what if you hurt me by not?”
The silence that followed was heavier than anything you’d ever felt, even heavier than death itself. You tried to hold her gaze, but the vulnerability in her expression nearly broke you in half.
You forced yourself to soften, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m not asking you to decide right now. I just… needed to tell you that I’m scared too. Scared of losing you. Even now.”
Wanda leaned into you then, curling into your side, her head resting against your shoulder like it had countless times before. “You won’t lose me,” she murmured. But the way her voice wavered made you wonder if she was trying to convince you or herself.
Time had passed. You weren’t sure if it was minutes or hours. You had stretched out on the bed beside her, your arm draped protectively across her waist, the same way you had done in life so many nights before. But tonight…tonight was different.
Your breathing was calm, your chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm, but Wanda could tell by the tension in your hand resting on her hip that you weren’t as deeply asleep as you pretended. She closed her eyes, guilt twisting in her stomach.
You shifted slightly, your voice soft in the dark. “You’re still awake.”
A small hum slipped from her throat. “My mind won’t stop.”
“You don’t have to force it. Just rest.” You kissed her temple, warm and steady, like always. “I’ll be here.”
The truth of it hit Wanda hard, you always were here. You always have been. Through grief, through joy, through all the years she thought she’d never survive, you had been there. But still, her chest ached with the ghost of someone she’d thought long gone, and she hated herself for not being able to quiet it.
When at last your breathing evened out, Wanda lay still for a long moment, watching you in the dim glow that seeped under the door. Then, carefully, she slipped free from your arms. She paused at the edge of the bed, her hand hovering above your sleeping form.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though you couldn’t hear.
Pulling her cloak around her shoulders, Wanda slipped into the hall. You turned to look at the door, silently willing her to stay, enveloped in darkness as Wanda pulled the door shut behind her.
She told herself it was only a walk, just to clear her head, just to quiet the storm before she came back to you. But her feet carried her deeper into the great halls, until the quiet was broken by a voice she knew too well.
Her heart stuttered at the sound of his voice. She turned, and there he was, Vision, standing in the soft glow of lanterns lining an archway. He looked almost exactly as he had all those decades ago. His posture still regal, his eyes still tender when they fell on her. It was disarming, like stepping back in time.
She swallowed. “Vision. I… I didn’t mean to run into you.”
He smiled gently, though there was a heaviness in his expression, as though every second of waiting for her still lived behind his eyes. “Then perhaps fate wished it.”
She glanced past him, realizing the corridor opened into a vast chamber. The ceiling stretched endlessly upward, shelves spiraling high and curving in impossible arcs, lined with glowing tomes. Each book shimmered faintly, alive with the weight of memory.
“What is this place?” she asked, breath catching at the sheer scope of it.
“The Library of Memories,” Vision explained softly. “Here, every soul may revisit the lives they lived, the moments they cherished, or regret. It is both a gift… and a trial.”
Her pulse quickened. “And you… have you…?”
“I come here often,” he admitted, his gaze flickering briefly to the shelves before returning to her. “It is how I remembered you. How I endured.”
Wanda gazed at Vision, hesitating, “I never dreamt you this clearly.”
His lips twitched as he took a step closer, “You’re exactly how I dreamt you.”
Her throat tightened. “Vision, you waited… all this time?”
“Sixty-seven years to be exact,” he said simply, as if it were nothing. “But time holds little meaning here. I only knew that someday, somehow, you would walk these halls too.”
The guilt pressed in on her, thick and suffocating. Sixty-seven years, while she had grown, lived, loved, found a home with you. And he had been here, frozen, keeping his devotion alive on the embers of old memories.
“I don’t deserve that,” she whispered.
He tilted his head, the familiar gentleness in his eyes cutting through her. “It was never about deserving. You were my reason. You always have been.”
Before she could answer, he stepped toward the shelves and laid a hand against one of the glowing tomes. The book trembled, then opened, its light spilling outward until it wrapped around them both.
Wanda gasped. She was no longer standing in the library. She was in a sunlit field, green and endless, the air smelling faintly of wildflowers. She knew this place, it was where she and Vision had once stolen afternoons together as young lovers, when their hearts had been untamed and the future seemed theirs to shape.
Her younger self stood laughing a few paces away, Vision’s arms around her as he spun her in a circle, both of them dizzy with joy. Wanda’s chest tightened painfully at the sight. She remembered this day, this moment, the feel of his hand clasping hers like it was the only anchor he’d ever need.
The older Vision beside her now watched too, his eyes soft, reverent. “You were my beginning,” he said quietly.
Wanda’s breath shuddered. “And I was your end.”
He turned to her, frowning faintly. “Do not speak so. My story does not end here, not if you are with me.”
But his words fell heavy. She couldn’t stop the guilt curling deeper inside her. Because as beautiful as this was, as stirring as it felt to see it again, all she could think of was you, your hand holding hers through nights of grief, your laugh echoing in the kitchen as you cooked together, your steady presence when the world crumbled.
Her first love stood before her, offering her the past. But her longer love was sleeping in a quiet chamber, waiting for her to come back.
Wanda pulled her gaze from the glowing memory and shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered.
Vision’s voice was tender but steady. “Then let me carry it with you. At least for tonight.”
And though she let him lead her deeper into the memory, her heart ached with a truth she could not yet speak.
__________________________
Wanda crept quietly down the familiar corridors, her heart still hammering from what she had just experienced. The Library of Memories lingered in her mind, the flashes of youth, the laughter, the stolen kisses she and Vision had shared so many decades ago. They had been young, careless, and utterly consumed by each other. And yet, standing in that endless expanse of memory, Wanda had felt the sharp contrast of her life with you, full, lived, and unshakably real.
By the time she reached the room she shared with you, the golden light of the eternal halls had softened, spilling gently through the doorway. She paused for a moment, glancing at the closed bedroom door. Her chest twisted with a mixture of relief and anxiety.
Stepping inside, she found you asleep, curled slightly on the bed, your breathing slow and steady. The sight of you, so real, so alive, so entirely hers, made her stomach flutter in a way she hadn’t expected. She hesitated, watching the rise and fall of your chest, trying to steady the emotions that threatened to spill over.
Careful not to wake you too abruptly, Wanda slipped closer, her bare feet barely making a sound on the floor. She reached the edge of the bed and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, her touch feather-light.
“Y/N…” she whispered softly, unsure if you would hear her or if the sound would even stir you.
Your eyes fluttered open, the familiar sight of Wanda immediately bringing a smile to your lips. “Wanda?” you murmured, still half in sleep. “You’re back…”
She sank to the edge of the bed, taking your hand in hers. “I… I needed to see him. Alone,” she admitted quietly, the words trembling on her tongue. “I needed to understand some things. To see why I feel so… torn.”
You sat up slowly, still holding her hand, the shadows of worry on your face softening as you regarded her. “And?” you asked gently, careful not to push. “Was it what you expected?”
Wanda shook her head, a small, exhausted sigh escaping her lips. “It was… complicated. Seeing Vision again, seeing him in those memories, it reminded me of everything we once were. And everything I can never give him now. And yet… It also reminded me of what we’ve built. With you. How real it has all been.”
You tightened your hold on her hand, feeling the weight in her words but refusing to let it unbalance you. “You’ve lived a full life with me,” you said softly. “What we have is real. And that doesn’t disappear, no matter what memories someone else shows you.”
Her eyes glistened as she leaned against your shoulder, resting her forehead lightly there. “I don’t want to hurt him… or you. I feel so guilty for even thinking about it. For letting myself remember him.”
“You’re allowed to feel that,” you whispered, brushing your thumb across her knuckles. “It’s natural. But feeling it doesn’t mean you have to act on it. You’ve chosen your life. You’ve chosen me. That choice hasn’t changed.”
Wanda closed her eyes, taking a shaky breath. “It’s just… seeing him again, knowing he waited for sixty-seven years… I can’t stop thinking about it. And yet, I know my heart is here, with you.”
You pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Then let’s take it slow. You don’t have to decide anything right this moment. Just… breathe. Let yourself feel, let yourself process. I’ll be right here.”
Her hands gripped yours tighter. “I’ll try,” she murmured. “But what if I… what if I can’t figure it out?”
You tilted your head, meeting her gaze. “Then we give you time. I think… maybe it’s best if you spend a little while separately with both of us. No pressure, no expectations, just space to understand your heart clearly.”
Her eyes widened, torn. “Even if it means being apart from you?”
“Yes,” you said softly, steady and unwavering. “Wanda…you gave me sixty-seven years of your life. You know how our story plays out. But…you never got to see how your story with Vision would end.” You hid the waiver in your voice. “You deserve to see that ending as well before you decide.”
Wanda exhaled slowly, letting herself sink into your embrace, taking a moment to absorb the fairness of your words. “I… I think I can do that,” she whispered, a knot forming in her stomach.
You pressed your forehead against hers. “Take your time, Wanda. We have eternity.”
For a long moment, you held her there, both of you savoring the quiet before the storm of choices ahead. Wanda allowed herself to exhale, letting your steady presence absorb some of the weight she carried. Then, with a shaky breath, she finally pulled back just enough to look at you.
“I’ll miss you…” Wanda whispered, her words sending a sharp pain through your chest as you felt their double meaning.
“I’ll always be here.” You whispered back, a small smile gracing your lips as you meant the heavy words.
Your grip on Wanda tightened, the weight of knowing that tomorrow you would have to let her go, held you down. Your hands slid up her neck to cup her face as you gently captured her lower lip between yours.
You hadn’t had time to think of being physical with all of the commotion of today. The physical reaction your body had to Wanda had never faded in all of the years you spent together, even when your bodies were unable to execute your desires.
The reminder of your younger, stronger bodies was clear when Wanda grabbed onto your waist tightly and pulled you down onto the bed.
The night passed in a haze of lips, tongues, and hands. You weren’t sure if your grip was because of how much you missed being able to be this physical with each other or if you were subconsciously trying to leave a reminder of who Wanda had spent her years with.
The morning sunlight streamed through the window, stirring you from your slumber. You reached across the sheets to find Wanda. She’s still here. You thought to yourself, relief flooding your body as your fingers came in contact with her hand.
You peeked one eye open, seeing Wanda already staring at you.
“I don’t want to leave you…” Wanda mumbled, her hand tracing gentle patterns on the back of your hand.
You gave her a gentle smile, flipping your hand over to intertwine your fingers with hers. “It won’t be long,” You promised, not sure if you believed the words yourself.
Wanda stared at you for what felt like minutes, her gaze intense, searching, as if she were trying to memorize your face. That thought scared you more than you could admit.
With a deep sigh, Wanda sat up, holding the sheet around her chest. “I should go, I suppose…”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Your limbs felt heavy as you got up and pulled a shirt over your head.
Wanda, already having dressed herself in clothes that seemed to magically be in the drawer already, walked around the bed to stand in front of you.
“I–,” You opened your mouth to speak but Wanda surged forward, pressing her lips to yours in a desperate kiss, cutting off whatever you were about to say.
Your arms wrapped tightly around each other, lips moving in a perfect rhythm as they had moved together for so many years.
“I love you.” Wanda whispered as you finally broke apart, the need for air seemingly a lot less in this place. Her forehead pressed against yours and her grip stayed tight around you. “Please don’t forget that.”
You held onto her just as tightly, “I won’t.” You promised, leaning forward to capture another kiss. “I love you too.”
As much as you didn’t want to, you finally pulled back, breaking away from the embrace. “You should go,” You pushed the words out. “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll come back.” You hope.
Wanda nodded, wiping a tear that had fallen down her face. She walked to the door, her lead feet heavy, willing her to stay.
With one last look at you, she slipped through the door, pulling it shut with a click.
You stayed rooted in your spot, staring at the door for a few moments too long before running your hands over your face, wondering if you just said goodbye to your eternity.
________________________________________
Wanda moved slowly through the golden halls, her thoughts heavy and tangled. Every step echoed in the vast space, a reminder of the weight she carried. Sixty-seven years. Sixty-seven years of waiting, of imagining a life that could have been. The knowledge of his patience pressed on her chest, making her heart ache, even as her mind leaned toward you.
She found him where she had first seen him in the Library of Memories. Vision stood still, his posture calm, his blue eyes catching the faint light of the hall. When he noticed her approaching, a quiet warmth lit his expression, a mixture of hope and gentle curiosity.
“Vision,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.
He turned fully toward her, the familiar intensity in his gaze softening as he studied her. “Wanda,” he said, voice low but steady. “You’ve come.”
She hesitated, hands twisting together at her sides. “I… I don’t know what I’m feeling,” she admitted. “Seeing you again… it brought back so much. Memories, emotions… and yet I can’t ignore the life I’ve lived with Y/N. I need… I need clarity.”
Vision’s gaze didn’t waver. He listened, patient and quiet, as she continued. “I want to see more. More memories, of us, of everything we were, everything we dreamed of. I need to understand why my heart feels torn, and what it truly wants.”
His expression softened, a small, understanding smile brushing his lips. “You want to see the past, to understand the present,” he said. “I can show you what you need to see, Wanda. I’ve waited for this chance, not to force a choice, but to allow you to find your own truth.”
Her chest tightened. “And… I want to spend some time with you alone,” she admitted, the words heavy with guilt. “I need to be honest with myself, without distraction, without pressure. And then, when I’m ready, I’ll spend time with Y/N, alone with her, to truly understand where my heart lies.”
Vision stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I see,” he said softly. “That is wise, Wanda. You’ve carried so much for so long, let the heart speak freely. I will show you the memories, the moments we shared, and you may explore them fully. And when you’re ready, you will know your choice.”
She exhaled shakily, the relief mixing with guilt. “I don’t want to hurt you….or Y/N. But I need to do this honestly. For both of you… and for myself.”
“You will not hurt me by seeking clarity,” Vision said gently. “I have waited for you, and I will wait for the truth. Take the time you need. Let the memories guide you. Let your heart guide you.”
A tearful laugh emerged from Wanda’s throat, “You know, you always used to talk like a robot.”
Vision chuckled, his eyes twinkling at the memories. “Yes, you did always say that...”
Wanda smiled, feeling the tension in her chest ease slightly. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For understanding. For waiting… and for giving me the chance to see clearly.”
He gave her a faint, sad smile, the weight of decades hidden behind calm composure. “I have always loved you, Wanda. I will wait until you return, not out of obligation, but out of respect for your choice. Let your heart be certain.”
With a final nod, she stepped back, giving him space. The golden hall seemed quieter, almost expectant, as if eternity itself held its breath. Wanda turned, preparing herself to dive into the memories, to explore the past, and to search for the clarity she so desperately needed.
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