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The Vision wasn’t programmed to dream. He didn’t need to sleep. Yet somehow, through the years he’d spent lying beside his wife in bed, he had evolved the ability. Vision could dream. He could sleep. He simply didn’t require it. Therefore it was not insomnia he suffered from but the decision to not activate those subprograms.
Vision stroked down the length of his wife’s graying hair before kissing her forehead and sitting upright. Wanda was older, her face marked with lines of worry and strain that came from the life they lived. It was a matter of fact that Wanda no longer met the same standards of beauty applied to her when they were newlyweds, though it mattered little to Vision. What mattered more was what the change meant.
The Vision stared at himself in the mirror. There were no lines, no signs of aging to hide or lament.
“Dark eyes?”
Vision turned and recognized the look in Wanda’s eyes. In the morning he was in for a long talk about androids, mortality, and how he was acting more depressing than their son Billy during his goth phase. But for now his wife was tired and she was content to let the matter drop once Vision crawled back into bed. Soon both were resting peacefully, secure in each others arms.