Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun is hidden today, obscured by heavy gray clouds casting random shadows across campus. Good. Wanda prefers it that way - even if the breeze is cooler than she’d prefer. Dark skies mean the light doesn’t hurt her eyes, her skin doesn’t sting from the UV rays, and nobody is out loitering on the lawns. 

Which means nobody who recognizes her - whether as an acquaintance, or a stranger who just saw her photo on the news - looks at her with pity in their eyes. Nobody asks her how she’s doing, if she wants to hang out, as if they actually care about some random 21-year-old immigrant college student whose twin’s murder was very publicized.

He had, after all, been the fastest running back NYU had recruited in years. People loved him. They didn’t know Wanda existed outside of her brother’s existence…until he was shot, point-blank, at a gas station while his little sister had been in the bathroom.

And now, they all look at her with sympathy.

And she fucking hates it. She preferred not being seen. At least her friendships meant something back then - the few she’s carried with her into college, the ones who chose schools far from hers, or other career paths.

So days like today are fantastic, because she can just get to her classes in peace, headphones on, music probably damaging her hearing or something at this volume. 

Speaking of classes…

She glances at her phone again, swiping past the music widget showing her current thousandth repetition of the same song she’s hyperfixated on for days now, and checks which building she’s supposed to be going to for this new class. Why the hell did I choose mythology as an elective?

She knows the answer, though. She’s wanted to take this class for a year now. And she needed another class to keep her scholarship, especially after dropping the music appreciation elective she and Pietro had signed up for.

He was so excited to finally be in a class with his sister. With him going into sports medicine and Wanda majoring in creative writing but minoring in dance, they were ships in the night unless they weren’t in class. They had been so excited to be able to study the same subject together for a semester.

She hadn’t been able to handle it, going back to the music appreciation class after the funeral. People looked at her funny. And she hated it. Her advisor had put in for her to drop the class with an exception, but she’d had to pick up a replacement. And of course, when her life was falling apart, that was when Calderu’s Norse Mythology class had a single seat left - and it counted as an upper elective for her entire plan.

But now she can’t remember which classroom she needs to get to. She’s in a building she’s never taken a class in, and it’s old but beautiful and ornate, and her fucking phone is being fucking stupid and not loading her schedule…which has the room number.

She’s so distracted worrying that she rounds a turn to a hallway and collides with another body, her bag crashing to the floor - and her not far behind. Well, shit.

“I am so sorry, I was trying to find a classroom and I wasn’t paying attention,” she says, sincerely but without actually looking at the person she’s run into. The legs and nice shoes in her peripheral vision tell her it’s another woman. She starts to push everything back into her backpack, groaning quietly as she realizes the zipper is shot. Again.

A soft sigh escapes the other person. “You’re okay, hon! Let me help you with that.”

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to-” Wanda begins, still not looking up, but the woman drops to a crouch next to her.

“Please, I insist,” the woman says, and Wanda finally looks up. Her throat goes dry, and her brain goes weirdly fuzzy.

She’s never really looked at anyone and felt like a string of fate and desire is drawing her in. But thick dark curls, strong defined features, and piercing gray-blue eyes capture her attention. The woman in front of her, likely no older than thirty, helping gather her books and notebooks and pens, is fucking stunning. 

“Um…th-thanks,” she stammers, then internally curses herself for stammering. The woman grins at her and that smile is dazzling and it’s all Wanda can think about now.

“Not a problem, sweetheart!” The woman finally puts the last book in Wanda’s backpack and stands, offering her hand as Wanda zips the bag. “Now, why don’t we figure out where you’re supposed to be going?”

With a breath that she hopes isn’t noticeably shaky, Wanda’s eyes focus on the long, slender fingers of the outstretched hand. She reaches out and takes the offer, letting the older woman pull her to her feet.

When she’s finally vertical, she locks eyes with the brunette, whose eyes seem to see right into her soul. “Do you have the room number, honey?”

Wanda fights a shiver at the third endearing pet name this stranger has thrust upon her in the last five minutes. She shakes her head. “I would, but I have absolutely no reception in this building. Calderu’s 11 AM Occult Studies?”

The woman grins again, eyes twinkling. “Room 137. Follow me. This building can be an absolute maze if you’re not familiar with it.” She turns, beckoning Wanda to walk with her, and starts moving. Wanda opens her mouth as if to argue, to tell this stranger that she’ll figure it out, then snaps her mouth shut as she realizes that she probably will get lost and be even later than she might already be.

She hurries along behind the older woman, trying not to look anywhere but straight ahead so she’s not ogling this stranger’s backside like a teenage boy. “Thank you again,” she says quietly, forcing the words out.

The woman looks over at her and winks. “Not a problem, honey. Although, I am curious as to how we’re two weeks into the semester and you still don’t know where your class is.”

Wanda lowers her gaze, watching her worn combat boots as they follow the woman’s relatively fancy loafers. “Oh. I dropped a class last week, and I had to pick up another one to keep my scholarship and actually finish in the next year. I’ve been wanting to take this class for awhile, but I haven’t had the time in my schedule. My advisor told me Calderu had one random opening and was willing to take me after the drop period had already ended.”

She can feel the woman’s eyes on her, appraising, probably wanting to pry but choosing not to, as she silently continues walking. They’re quiet for a long moment, then round another corner. When the woman speaks, she stops walking as well, and Wanda stops next to her.

“Here we are! If you aren’t able to find it again at any point in the future, say the word. My office is near the entryway anyway. Name’s Agatha.”

Wanda looks up, seeing that yes, they are in front of Room 137. She offers the older woman a small, grateful smile. “I’m Wanda. I appreciate the help.” She sticks her hand out, resisting the urge to chew on her lower lip in anxiety. Giving her name made her realize - it’s inevitable that the other woman will put two and two together. And here we go…

But the fake sympathy doesn’t come. Instead, those pretty, curious eyes light up and crinkle at the corners as the older woman grins, holding Wanda’s gaze and reaching out to grasp and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Wanda. It’s lucky you ran into me, you’re less than a minute into the hour! Lilia’s usually quite relaxed about timeliness. I do hope you love her class, though, she knows what she’s talking about.” Agatha winks, releasing the handshake, before she pulls a small card out of her pocket (along with a pen) and scribbles on the back before handing it to Wanda. “Just in case you get lost again, my cell is on the back.”

Wanda nods, not totally trusting herself to have anything of quality to respond with, and takes the card, gently slipping it in her bag pocket. Almost reluctantly, she reaches to open the door. “Thank you. I’ll be seeing you, Agatha.”

As she slips into Lilia Calderu’s class, she can feel those intense eyes watching her back, and she suppresses yet another shiver of unrecognizable emotion. She hears Agatha respond quietly, playfully, just loud enough for the two of them to hear, “Not if I see you first, hon.”

Lilia Calderu’s class is actually even more engaging than Agatha had indicated, and Wanda loves it. The entire class sits, enraptured, and Lilia - she refuses to be called anything else, because “Professor Calderu sounds boring,” - does not give them any opportunity for boredom. Wanda didn’t miss much in the first two weeks, thankfully, so catching up is easy.

(It helps that Lilia only hands out one or two assignments the entire semester, according to the syllabus. Everything else is participation and willingness to contribute. It’s an elective, after all.)

Nobody looks at Wanda with the same plastered smile or sympathy she’s had to deal with for the last month on campus, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it. The hour ends almost too quickly, and Wanda realizes that this is going to end up being her safe haven class. At least, it could be.

True to how she operated even before losing her brother, Wanda is one of the last students to leave the classroom. As she makes her way towards the door, something small and rectangular catches her eye. Turning to an empty desk, she notices a smartphone just left lying there, and picks it up on her way to the door. She changes course and walks to Lilia’s desk, a rush of awkward nerves overtaking as she speaks to the professor. “Um, Lilia? I think someone left their phone.”

Lilia looks up, eyes crinkling at the corners as she shakes her head and chuckles, taking the phone from Wanda’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, dear. I’m almost willing to bet that’s Alice’s phone. She tends to…forget things in my classroom.” She leans forward as she sets the phone on her desk. “So. Did you enjoy your first class?”

Wanda feels her nerves ease up considerably, and grins. “I absolutely did. Thank you for picking me up as a student so late! I can understand why Alice forgets things in here; I had to double check my bag because I was considering the discussion so hard that I don’t remember packing up!”

“Yep, that’s basically what happened to me,” a light voice agrees from the doorway, and Alice is there, grinning sheepishly. “Thank you for taking it to Lilia though! Not that I think anyone in this class would steal my phone-” 

“If I had any suspicion someone in my class was stealing from other students, they’d either be kicked out and failed, or I’d call Harkness in here to curse them and give them a good scare,” Lilia replies dryly, though she’s smirking and it’s a bit unsettling, yet comforting all the same. Wanda makes a mental note to never piss Lilia off.

“Wait - which one is Harkness again?” Alice asks as she takes her phone off Lilia’s desk. Lilia chuckles.

“Agatha Harkness. She’s the head of this department and a dear friend…and also scary as hell when provoked.”

Wanda’s head snaps back to look at Lilia’s face. “I think that’s who walked me to class this morning, actually. I got…really lost. That’s all I know.” She laughs nervously, shuffling her feet a little. “I can see where she could be scary when you piss her off. She seemed….nice, though. Very helpful.” Her voice rises a bit higher towards the end as she tries to come up with the right words, looking out one of the classroom windows.

Lilia watches her for a moment, as Alice thanks them both again and leaves the classroom. Wanda can feel those sharp, inquisitive eyes on her, and shifts her feet uncomfortably again. Lilia breaks into a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m glad you transferred into my class, dear. You come to me if you need something, you understand? If you got on Agatha’s good side after meeting her one time, you’re doing right in my book.”

Wanda can feel herself break into a grin, nodding at Lilia. “Thank you. I’ll see you on Thursday!”

She doesn’t see Agatha on her way out of the building, and she tries not to let it bother her, but at least for a moment, she actually feels a little bit human again.

Chapter Text

you’re gone, 

           and I gotta stay high, 

                                all the time, 

                                       to keep you off my mind…

It’s after nine on a Friday, and Wanda got off work at 6:30. She has already completed all of her homework that’s due Monday and Tuesday - one of the advantages to not really having any friends here.

She should be able to reward herself, should be able to lay on the couch in her dingy but functional studio apartment and watch a movie and eat a small bowl of popcorn, should be able to go out and have fun and maybe, just maybe make some new friends.

She should be able to do whatever she wants. Right?

But she can’t. 

Because being around people, holding conversations, pretending she’s okay, holding it together…it’s too much. It hurts. 

She hasn’t tried to socialize, hasn’t tried to party since Pietro…

She can’t think about it. But it’s all that occupies her every waking thought - her blur of a brother, gone just like everyone else. Mama and Papa, gone in an accident that left little Pietro and his tiny twin sister attached at the hip. By the time they had turned 13, Pietro was the only person who could touch Wanda without her panicking - because fuck creepy foster families and fuck the student pastors of the churches attended while with these families. (And fuck possessive, handsy ex-boyfriends, but that’s a more recent problem.)

And fuck life at this point, because now Pietro is gone. Nobody can protect her, and she has no one to feel anything for.

It’s always hard these days, but it gets the worst at night.

Her stomach grumbles unpleasantly, and she squeezes her eyes shut tight and gently thumps her head back against the wall.

“It should have been me,” she whispers to her apartment, otherwise empty except for her. She’s almost glad for the small Bluetooth speaker Pietro gave her for Christmas, because without it she’d have to confront the gaping hole in her being where half of her soul is supposed to be. At least the low hum of her music keeps her company, even when no one else does.

Because you can’t keep anyone around. Everything you touch, everyone you love, they just walk away, don’t they?

She flinches, glancing down at the bottle of whiskey next to her on the floor. It’s nearly empty, and she only bought it on Wednesday - but it’s fine, right? She hadn’t drank in a while…but Pietro is dead, and it should have been her. So yeah, she needs the fucking drink.

(She tries not to dwell on the gnawing emptiness in her stomach, and how Pietro always worried about her when she drank on an empty stomach. He’s not exactly here to worry, and it’s her fault he’s not. She doesn’t deserve to eat before drinking, and the buzz hits harder now. And besides, if she’s still alive, she’d rather forget how much it hurts.)

Wanda sighs heavily and reaches for her phone, just to see if anyone has unknowingly broken the silence. She hasn’t heard it go off, but it’s more of a habit than anything.

Shockingly, she does find new messages - and her phone’s on silent. That checks out.

Natasha:

Hey. You’ve been entirely too quiet lately. I miss you. You don’t have to do this alone, babe. I’m here if you need me, and don’t think I won’t grab a flight to NYC if you say the word.

Wanda cracks a tired half-smile, typing back quickly. Of course Natasha is reaching out - one of the few people who still cares enough to do so. 

Wanda:

Hey. Sorry. It’s been a weird semester. I miss you too. I’ll be fine - that’s too expensive, don’t do that. ;)

Warily, she swipes to the other new message. It’s an unfamiliar number, but the message content tells her exactly who it is.

“Hey. It’s me. I’m sorry about your brother. I miss you. Are you okay? We should talk…I would love to see you. We didn’t end our last talk on a good note.”

Fuck…of course Vision reaches out when she’d rather never hear from him again. And when her life is falling apart. She’s already got enough ghosts, she doesn’t need this persistent, controlling asshole trying to waltz back in and act like he’s not a persistent, controlling asshole.

Against her desires, her mind is suddenly playing back all of the times Vision had been an absolute ass when they dated - and because there were entirely too many incidents, it’s a cacophony of low but threatening whispers that still make Wanda’s chest constrict, gaslighting, angry texts, “accidental” shoves and hands gripping her forearms hard enough to bruise as he quietly berated her, jealousy, not letting Wanda have a say in her own fucking life…

“Why is your Life360 turned off? Where the fuck are you?”

“Why didn’t you answer the phone when I called you the first time?” 

“I’m sorry, but you just made me so angry…”

“If you get hurt, it’s your own fucking fault since you didn’t tell me where you were. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Yeah, but protecting and stalking slash controlling aren’t the same fucking thing, Vis,” she whispers angrily into her empty apartment. Words she should have said when they were dating. Can’t go back now, and she definitely doesn’t want to.

This has to be a new number. She needs to block it, as she did the last one. This belligerently smart, spoiled rich boy with an altruism problem and absent parents was never her responsibility. And he couldn’t protect her if he tried. 

They hadn’t started out on the wrong foot - he presented as such a sweet guy in high school. They hit it off quickly, even though Pietro wasn’t a fan of Vision from the start. Vision was her first everything, at least when it came to her own choices…but then again, she’s still not sure if she really wanted some of what happened.

She quickly moves her finger and hits the block button, setting her phone aside after the fact. But her mind is spiraling again, though she fights so desperately to keep it together.

With a trembling sigh, she glances at another object she had almost forgotten she brought out with her, then glances at her exposed forearm. The evidence, usually concealed but not tonight, of how hard she tries to pretend she’s fine…how hard she’s tried for so many years now, yet every time she’s failed to keep it together without all of her vices. It hurt with Pietro, but it’s nearly non-viable thanks to the pain without his presence. 

Punishment. It’s what she deserves for being the last one standing.

Maybe, someday, it’ll be enough.

Wanda doesn’t mind the lower pay of working in a smaller, local bookstore. She’s surrounded by a paid vacation, in her mind. When she’s not stocking or helping a customer, she can just read and do her homework. It’s perfect. It’s her solace, outside of the dance classroom in the performing arts building. She doesn’t have to deal with judgmental or questioning eyes. No fake sympathy because she tries not to make friends or talk beyond polite customer service.

So of course, she’s reading. It just so happens to be a book on Loki. Because Lilia has had quite the influence, after just one week. Reading is somehow helping her mild hangover headache, too, though maybe it was more of a stress headache if it’s fading this quickly.

“Wanda?”

Fuck. 

But wait - that’s Agatha. Wanda’s head snaps up, straining a muscle in her neck, and blinks to focus. “Ag-Professor Harkness, hi.”

Agatha’s eyebrow raises, a light smirk on the corners of her lips. “Professor? Sweetheart, if you ever call me that again, I will judge the shit out of you. For you, I’m just Agatha.” She crosses her arms and leans languidly against the wall display she’s standing next to, piercing eyes never leaving the redhead’s face. “Have you always worked here? I’ve never seen you, but I’m not usually here so early in the day.”

Wanda feels her cheeks burn, and she quickly averts her gaze. “Oh! Um…I’ve worked here for about two years. I just didn't start working Saturdays until recently. Sundays are much quieter, so I asked to only be here from open to lunch on Saturdays to try and get that same vibe…but results have definitely varied.”

She’s rambling a little, but she’s not entirely sure why. Agatha is closer now, and Wanda dares a glance back up. The older woman smiles gently at her.

“Is this seat taken, honey?” She gestures to the chair across from Wanda. Agatha’s gaze holds playfulness, but also genuine interest towards Wanda in particular. At least, that’s how it feels, being under those eyes.

Wanda could say it’s taken. Or that it’s not taken. But something in her feels emboldened - a foreign sensation for her, certainly. She gestures to Agatha, smiling just a little. “It’s taken now.”

The older woman grins like the Cheshire Cat, then slides into the offered chair. “So,” she begins, leaning forward on the backs of her hands, fingers laced together just tightly enough to rest her chin on them. “How was your first week of Norse Mythology? Was Lilia nice to you?”

With the faintest twitch of a smirk on her lips, Wanda raises an eyebrow at the professor. “Lilia’s great. What’s funny is, she asked me if you were nice when you helped me find her classroom.”

Agatha grins wider, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and Wanda stifles a catch in her own breath. “And what did you tell her?”

With a head tilt, Wanda finally allows herself to smile back fully. “That you were really nice. And helpful. She seems to think she’s going to like having me in class based on how you and I got on. Not sure how she drew that conclusion, but if it keeps me out of trouble in class, I’m happy.”

“You? Trouble? Darling, I highly doubt you’re typically causing much trouble at all,” the older brunette drawls, and Wanda fails to hide the flush from her neck to her cheeks. Agatha’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and Wanda looks down at the book she’s set aside. Agatha lets out a soft hum of amusement. “See? You seem like a very good girl.”

Wanda’s heart thumps loudly in her ears, and her eyes stay down. Why am I acting like this?

Wait, Agatha just called me “good girl.” Do I LIKE that?

But it doesn’t mean anything. It can’t, right? This woman is a professor at her university, she’s at least in her early thirties, she’s interacted with Wanda maybe three times. And Wanda isn’t the kind of person people just want to flirt with, in her own mind. Surely Agatha is just enjoying her reactions.

“What are you studying, Wanda?”

The question catches her off-guard, and she blinks hard before dragging her eyes back to Agatha’s face. Those blue eyes have softened, regarding Wanda with a kind but unreadable expression. It’s odd how trusting Wanda feels under that gaze.

“Creative writing,” she responds quietly. “With a minor in dance, because that was something I never could let go of.”

Agatha doesn’t question what she means, tilting her head slightly and narrowing her eyes in what could only be described as understanding, as her expression grows serious. “If you love it, it’s the right choice. I guess it makes sense for you to work surrounded by words on paper, doesn’t it?”

Wanda smiles, larger than she can control in the moment, and genuinely. “That’s exactly it.” She’s not expecting the momentary hitch in Agatha’s breath, so she almost doesn’t register it. But she does catch it. “What?”

Why did she look at me like that?

The older woman folds her arms on the table and leans forward a bit more. “Nothing. Just realized I haven’t seen you look so happy before, and it’s lovely. Even from this relative stranger’s perspective, I can tell it’s not an incredibly common occurrence. You have such a beautiful smile, Wanda, and I hope you know that.”

“Oh.” Wanda feels her face burn and drops her eyes back to the table, fidgeting with her hands. “Thanks, I think.”

“Hey.” Wanda dares a glance up at Agatha’s softly commanding tone, and sees the brunette’s gentle smile. “It’s okay to let people compliment you, especially if they mean it. You know that, right?”

Wordlessly, Wanda nods, looking back down at the table. She knows it, she can usually be polite in the face of affirmation, but something about Agatha Harkness’ gaze is too intense, too raw, too real.

The next words from the older woman’s lips catch Wanda completely off guard.

“Why don’t we go have coffee when you’re off today?”

Chapter Text

“How did you and Lilia meet, anyway?”

This coffee shop is cool. It’s definitely out of Wanda’s usual routine, mostly because it’s not within her budget at all. But, as much as she tried to protest - politely, of course - Agatha had insisted on paying. The woman is anything if not chivalrous, even if it’s completely platonic.

(Wanda isn’t completely sure if it is or not, but she doesn’t plan to ask.)

Agatha grins wryly at the question. “Long story, sweetheart. Let’s just say she showed up in my life when I needed someone and didn’t know it, and now I can’t imagine life without her. She might as well be my sister. Or my aunt, if you consider the age difference,” she muses thoughtfully, and Wanda feels her lips curve at the corners.

Taking a long sip from her iced latte, her eyes never leave Wanda’s face, and the younger redhead can’t help but flush under that intense gaze. What is it about Agatha Harkness that has her lightheaded and feeling so incredibly shy? 

Pietro would fucking laugh at his little sister right now. He would tease her about a “girl crush,” and it would make her blush harder. But it would stave off the nerves of sitting under Agatha’s scrutinizing eyes. Fuck, she misses her brother like nothing else.

She tries to ward off that thought, stop it before it gets too pervasive, and scrunches her nose. “I mean, I’m not one to ask people’s ages-”

“I’m thirty-four,” Agatha cuts her off, leaning back in her chair languidly as if answering a question in a way Wanda wouldn’t like. Her eyebrows just barely rise, almost as a challenge.

All Wanda can do is shrug. “I mean, I really wasn’t going to ask, but I’m twenty-one if it means anything. Thanks for…sharing?” She bites her lip and looks down at the table, grinning slightly. She hears Agatha breathe out a laugh, and looks up to see a genuine smile on the older woman’s face, eyes crinkling at the corners. Without even realizing she’s doing it, Wanda tries to commit that expression to memory.

“I’ve never truly felt my age,” Agatha says softly, as Wanda takes a sip of her coffee. “When I was young, I felt old. Now I feel like a teenager again.”

“Sprightly?” Wanda quips, and Agatha chuckles, eyes sparkling, before her smile fades a little and she tilts her head.

“‘Uncertain of where I fit in the world’ is more like it.”

The rebuttal catches Wanda completely off guard, but not because she doesn’t understand. No, she understands too well, but she can’t wrap her head around it. “You always seem so…at ease, though. I know I’ve only talked to you a handful of times, but you seem like you have things figured out.”

Agatha wrinkles her nose and leans in, somewhat conspiratorially. “Wanda, I’ll tell you something you need to know about getting older in adulthood: most of us, at least at my age, don’t actually feel like we know what the hell we’re doing. If we look put together, we’re either feeling quite confident or we’re pretending.” She makes a face, and Wanda ducks her head. She knows all too well what that’s like.

“Guess I won’t be too surprised by getting out in the world, then,” she mutters to herself, barely above a whisper.

“I had a feeling you’d see it that way. You seem like you’ve already lived a few lifetimes at twenty-one, haven’t you?”

Her head jerks up. She hadn’t realized Agatha heard it. “Sorry. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Agatha’s brow furrows, and she leans forward a little, eyes intense. It’s uncomfortable, in the sense of feeling too seen and understood. Wanda can’t hold that gaze, she can’t, and takes an interest in her little plastic coffee cup, fingers absently tracing the grooves of the branding imprinted into the sides. 

Agatha’s responding words are slow, gentle.  “I appreciate the honesty, just so we’re clear. So even if it wasn’t meant for me, I’m glad I heard it.”

Wanda’s confusion and anxiety rear their heads. “This is going to sound super rude, but why do you care so much? I’m not even in one of your classes…I’m a relative nobody, I guess I just…”

“You’re more important than you realize, honey.” Agatha’s words pierce through her psyche, and Wanda looks up to meet those same blue-gray eyes she struggles not to get lost in after knowing the older woman for a few days. “I see you, Wanda. I know you try to stay in the background. I just would hate for you to be so alone against your will.” 

She leans in, and reflexively, Wanda does too. “It helps that you’re super cute, toots. Like, definitely not hard to be around somebody this adorable.”

Wanda can’t help herself and giggles, breaking the tension. Agatha grins triumphantly at her, expression warm. As the redhead’s laughter fades, she worries at her lip again.

“It’s hard to figure this all out without him,” she says softly, feeling her vision blur a little. “You know who I’m referring to, right?”

Her grin fading, Agatha nods. “Your brother. The faculty got a few mass emails about all of it. I wouldn’t blame you for feeling a little lost, honey. He was your other half.”

Wanda’s blurry eyes nearly give way to tears, but she sniffles hard and pulls them back for now. “Is that why you’re being so nice? Because everybody has been really fucking obnoxiously nice and it just-”

“-gets on your last fucking nerve because they never cared before, but you don’t want to seem ungrateful so you just start trying to avoid everyone.” Agatha smiles, but it’s thin. “Been there, sweet pea. You don’t deserve to have to feel that way and deal with it alone. It nearly killed me. And no…” she offers her hand, palm-up, on the table between them. “I’m not just doing this because of Pietro. I didn’t even realize you were that Wanda until I went back and reread the email. But I know the look in your eyes, because I’ve lived it, or at least something similar. And I like you. As a person. Just from what little I’ve interacted with you.”

She takes a deep breath. “Wanda, I’d actually like to get to know you, and spend time with you, and help you if I can. If you’re okay with that, of course.”

Wanda almost says no, and isn’t that the fucking madness of it. She met this woman on Tuesday, and now it’s Saturday and she’s sitting in front of the same woman, who is older and established and cool and rather hot (rein it in, Wanda, what the hell), and this older woman who teaches at her university wants to be her friend. 

And it’s not sympathy, or pity, or some other half hearted attempt to relate to someone whose life has been thrown out of balance. It’s…empathy, shared pain, understanding. Something Wanda hasn’t had in a while. 

Can she really find people again - people who might love her and give her a sense of peace?

Maybe it’s a good time to start.

(Maybe it’s not, whispers the little voice in her mind - the same one that tells her she doesn’t deserve to take care of herself when it was her fault they even went to that gas station. It’s the same voice that barely lets her eat, pushes her to inflict pain on herself, never shuts up.)

Wanda, with a faint pulse of trepidation, lays her hand on top of Agatha’s outstretched palm. The contact with the older woman, paired with the intensity of her gaze, sends a curious jolt of electricity through Wanda’s entire body. The tingling aftershocks spread a shiver up her spine, amplified when Agatha’s hand closes around hers and begins stroking the younger woman’s hand with her thumb.

Agatha smiles, and it's soft and warm - a contrast to her usual sharpness, but this entire coffee trip has been a surprise. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. Thank you.”

Why is she thanking me?

She must have asked the question out loud, because Agatha wrinkles her nose and gives Wanda’s hand a little squeeze. “Because, Wanda, getting to know you is a privilege, and I’m grateful you’re giving me that chance.”

“Getting to know you is a privilege.”

In the familiarity of her apartment, sitting on her old double bed at 11 PM, Wanda scoffs as she glares darkly at nothing. 

“Knowing me is a curse, not a privilege,” she grumbles, to nobody in particular. Her stomach grumbles back, not satisfied with the single apple she’d given it a mere five minutes ago, and she pinches it angrily, shushing it. “Everyone who cares about me leaves.”

She hates that she believes this, still. She was starting to feel some semblance of hope before Pietro. Now…now she believes it again, more than ever before. She can’t get close to people. There’s no fucking point. She’s cursed, and nobody would understand anyway, nobody would stick around long enough to realize how utterly broken she is. If they did, they’d leave before they could get hurt. So it’s fine.

But Agatha…

Something about Agatha, just in the last few days of knowing the woman, speaks to Wanda’s perpetual anxiety, her agony. It’s not soothing, not yet, but it whispers to her, offering her the chance at a semblance of healing, curling around her mind like tendrils of violet smoke, its scent both soothing and heady.

Beneath the mask, the pretense of just wanting to be left alone? Wanda wants nothing more than to throw herself headfirst into the fog, to reach for the buoy that Agatha is clearly trying to offer, so that just maybe she doesn’t drown in the turbulent dark sea of her own mind. She craves the guidance, the knowledge that she isn’t alone, that there is hope for her to do something good and live beyond her losses.

You don’t deserve that, though, do you? You are cursed, Wanda. You ruin everything you touch. You don’t deserve healing. Where’s Pietro’s healing? Where’s Mama’s chance at life, or Papa’s peace? Gone. And you have the audacity to think you deserve love?

She flinches, though she’s barely conscious of it. Behind her eyes, the weight of the thought stings. It burns hot, wet, threatening to materialize and spill over, down her cheeks yet again.

She’s so tired of crying, of feeling this insurmountable guilt and rage and gut-wrenching pain. It’s always lurking under the surface, threatening to break her when she doesn’t expect it. If she smiles, if she laughs, it pricks her like a thorn in the side. Reminding her that Pietro will never smile or laugh again. All because his fucking useless sister had asked if he wanted to go grab snacks before they settled in for their Friday movie marathon, something they did every week just to stay close amidst the busy schedules they kept.

There will never be another movie night, because now there is no Pietro. He’s gone, and she’s still here, and it’s not fair. It should have been her. And yet it wasn’t.

Against her will, her mind’s eye opens to the scene of the crime, remembering how the police had tried so hard to shield her from seeing her brother’s body. They had covered him up quickly and worked to usher her out, but she still saw enough. His empty eyes still haunt her nightmares. And every moment in between, if she doesn’t try to block it out.

It’s your fault. It is ALL. YOUR. FAULT. Why should you get to eat, to dress freely, to laugh and smile? You’re disgusting. Look at you. You’re the reason your brother was shot, and you gave yourself permission to eat food and go to coffee today? Some fucking sister you are.

The undeniable twist of nausea threatens her stomach, and she’s on her feet, scrambling to make it to the bathroom. She narrowly avoids vomiting on the floor, hunching over her intended target instead.

That’s better. You’re finally doing something right. 

“Stop it,” she moans helplessly, though she's not sure why, resting her forehead against the cool edge of the bathtub next to her. It’s useless, and she knows it - this wicked little subconscious voice has never been kind to her. But maybe she doesn’t exactly deserve kindness.

Without this, you disgrace your nuclear family by moving on.

As she pulls herself to her feet, using the bathtub and the edge of the toilet to brace herself, her vision darkens around the edges, little black spots daring to dance in the corners. Her heart pounds, loudly in her ears. She blinks, hard, and sways on her feet, trying desperately to slow her breathing until she’s just steady enough to walk back out into the main space. After hurrying through brushing her teeth, she staggers back to her bed, grateful the only light on is the TV at this point. Will & Grace is on, with that one woman who looks like she could be Lilia’s twin, but Wanda pays little mind. All she wants is to curl up in a ball and sleep - even though her dreams are never nice.

Naturally, she can’t close her eyes without seeing his face. After the third failed attempt, she sighs heavily and reaches for her phone on the nightstand. It’s a reflex by now; she doesn’t expect anything, but she checks anyway. To her surprise, for the second night in a row, she has…several messages.

Natasha:

Hey, you. How’s your weekend going?

By the way, you’re lucky I was so tired yesterday. You know damn well I don’t believe in “fine,” Wanda.

If things aren’t going well, it’s okay, but you need to talk to someone. 

I love you, kid. Don’t fucking push me away.

Wanda bites her lip hard at the last message, feeling her eyes water again. Natasha has always seen through her. Her parents were the last foster family the twins had been placed with, and the best they could hope for at thirteen years old. Pietro had acclimated quickly and begged their caseworker to let them stay until they aged out (which Ms. Pepper had agreed to), but it had taken Alexei and Melina a solid two years to convince teenage Wanda that nobody in their home would lay a hand on her, in any negative sense. At fifteen, she still flinched when anyone but Pietro reached for her, but halfway through that year, she had finally warmed up a little.

Natasha and Yelena are practically her only family now, even though she still periodically fights the love they offer. She can’t help but worry about losing them. But Natasha persists, and Yelena is always right behind her.

Yelena:

hey Wands <3

I miss you. you promised you’d text more. we haven’t talked since the funeral. I’m a little worried.

Tasha’s a lot more worried about you than she’s letting on. you don’t have to be alone. she would drop everything if you asked her to be there. I would, but I stupidly decided I could handle 17hrs this semester to knock an elective out of the way. Never. AGAIN.

we love you, babe. Kate asked about you, btw.

Through the threat of tears, Wanda chuckles a little bit, then swallows thickly and goes back to Natasha’s messages. After a brief moment of deliberation, she backs out and types up a group message to both sisters.

Wanda:

Hey. Both of you texted me, and it seemed faster to reply to both of you here. My weekend has been okay. Worked this morning, had coffee with somebody when I got off work. All my assignments that are due this week were already finished yesterday, so I can just work and sleep tomorrow.

You guys don’t have to worry so much. I’m fine.

***I’m okay, since Nat has decided that “fine” is akin to swearing.

Natasha:

Little dramatic there, don’t you think?

I just feel like “fine” is always a very badly concealed lie. If you’re going to lie, do it properly and make it convincing.

You just lost your brother in an unbelievably traumatic way, Wanda. You’re allowed to need people, you’re allowed to feel the hard shit, it's part of healing. I’m fucking serious about flying out there.

Wanda: 

Nat, I’m okay. Seriously. You worry too much.

Yelena:

hold on, are we just going to gloss over you going on a date today!? you met a guy?

Wanda:

NOT a date. Omg. She’s the occult studies instructor, she helped me find my Norse mythology classroom on Tuesday. Then she was at my work this morning, because go fucking figure I work at a bookstore that half the damn university frequents…including her. She asked me to have coffee, said she wants to be my friend. She’s just being nice. She’s probably the youngest professor here, she’s barely in her thirties. She’s friends with my mythology instructor.

Yelena: 

ha HA! little witch, you won’t fool either of us. you wouldn’t have agreed to go if you didn’t liiiiike her.

Natasha: 

It sounds like it was a date, but you won’t admit that until you see it for yourself. That’s okay. I am a little concerned that she’s an NYU employee, but you already know to be careful.

You can’t push everyone away forever, Wanda. I know you’re having a hard time, and you can’t tell me to stop worrying. I’ve known you way too long and too well to fall for that. Who stayed with you when the nightmares got bad and you were afraid to sleep?

Wanda:

You did. But you didn’t have to.

Natasha:

Don’t start that with me. You don’t deserve what your mind does to you, babe. Of course I had to, and I wanted to.

Yelena added Kate to the conversation.

Yelena:

before anyone says anything, she asked to be in here!

Kate:

WANDA!

I fucking miss you. and your silence tells me you’re not doing well.

Wanda:

Dude, why am I being ambushed? I was just trying to let you guys know I’m okay and that you don’t have to freak out.

I’m not made of glass, Nat. I’ll be okay. I’m doing my best.

And hi, Kate. I miss you guys too. It’s just been busy.

Natasha:

Okay, fine. If you’re really okay, I want a selfie in the next five minutes.

Wanda:

Weird request, but okay.

*Attachment: img_198.jpg*

The chat is mercifully silent for a few minutes, and Wanda notices that she still has two unread messages. She decides to let the group chat breathe, swiping over to the first unread.

Unknown Number:

Wanda, please talk to me. I miss you so much. I know I was too hard on you. I’ve had the chance to grow up a little. Can we please just meet up and talk about things?

DAMN IT. Can he not just leave her alone? This is the second burner number. They haven’t been together in over a year, not since the one time she and Pietro came back to Melina and Alexei’s for a few days and she had a drunken lapse in judgment. And honestly? She wholeheartedly regrets it. The memory makes her nauseous again, then angry. 

Just before she goes to block the number, her irritation takes over. 

Wanda:

Fuck off. I already told you we’re done for good. I’m dealing with enough.

Before he can respond, she hits the little red button and blocks this number, too. Her hands are unsteady, but several notifications have popped up in the group chat just while she was handling the Vision debacle.

Kate:

bestie, I’m gonna say this gently, but you look exhausted.

Yelena:

seriously Wands, you’re so pretty but dammit you look like you haven’t seen the sun or a full night of sleep in weeks.

Natasha:

Wanda. Honey. You’re not eating, are you?

Wanda:

Oh my god. I’m FINE. It’s a busy semester. Can you just NOT?

Natasha:  

Nope, sorry, not sorry. This is why I asked for the selfie, honey. Your face says what your words usually don’t. And right now, your face tells me you’re not eating enough, if at all, and you’re not sleeping much. 

Which means there’s a not-insignificant chance that your other vices are back with a vengeance, too. But now that you know why I asked for the photo, I can already guarantee you’re going to try to deny everything.

Wanda:

I love you all, but I really can’t bring myself to do this tonight. I need to try and sleep. I’ll talk to you later.

With a frustrated huff, she mutes the conversation. Just before she’s about to lock her phone, a separate text from Natasha pops up.

Natasha:

I’m coming to see you next weekend. I literally just booked a flight for Friday afternoon. You’re not allowed to argue. Try to get your shifts switched out so you’re not working, because we’re going to do stuff. 

I love you, Wanda. We all do. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I already lost the only brother I’ll ever have, so don’t let the stupid voices in your head take one of my sisters from me.

Wanda:

I know. I love you too. I’m sorry. I just…I can’t right now, Nat. I can’t talk about this. I guess I’ll see you next weekend.

It takes Wanda a moment to go back to her inbox; her eyes are watery again, and she’s sniffling desperately to try and stop the flow of tears. Natasha always knows everything - Alexei always joked about his oldest daughter being a “spy in the making,” and he was never wrong. She was the first of the family to really break through to Wanda, and even now, she’s almost too protective.

Wanda just can’t help but wish she could relax, allow herself to still be loved and looked after by what chosen family she does have left. But the lingering fear is overwhelming, greater than her survival instinct, louder than any hope she might try to voice for self-soothing.

Throwing her head back against her pillow with a groan, she reluctantly goes to see who the last message is from.

Agatha:

Thanks again for agreeing to go along with my impulse decision. If you’re not busy after you’re done with Lilia’s class this week, you’re welcome to come eat lunch in my office if you’d like. Please text me if you need anything before then - I mean it. You shouldn’t have to be alone so much. It was good to get to know you a little better today. :)

The tears finally breach her tired eyes, trickling down her cheeks slowly. Briefly, she considers just telling Agatha everything; she’s clearly offering to listen. She’s offering to let Wanda speak.

But you don’t deserve to be heard, now do you?

Wanda:

It was nice to spend time with you too. Thank you for the invitation. I’ll get back with you about lunch!

She sighs again, trembling slightly, before she sends the reply and locks her phone, turning off the TV and attempting to force herself into an uneasy slumber.

Chapter Text

“Looks like we’re going the same direction. You’re not about to go speak ill of me to the department head, are you?”

Wanda nearly jumps out of her skin, turning to see Lilia following her down the hallway. The older woman is smiling slightly, sharp eyes watching Wanda as she flushes and stammers heavily.

“Oh! No…um, Agatha just said I could stop in whenever she has office hours, and my last class after lunch got cancelled for the day. I wasn’t going to say anything about you! I can just come by next week, it’s really not-”

Lilia grins, and Wanda relaxes considerably at the calm demeanor of her professor (though it doesn’t quell her underlying anxiety about going into Agatha’s office). “Relax, baby. We’re cool. I just needed to let her know I’m out for the day. You guys are my last group, and I have things to do!”

Wanda chuckles in relief, and they walk together as Lilia catches up to her. Truth be told, Wanda is utterly terrified of walking into Agatha’s office, and she’s been spiraling again this week, trying to keep to herself as much as possible. With Natasha showing up tomorrow around dinner, Wanda’s anxiety is heightened, which is stupid because Natasha isn’t going to hurt her…

But Natasha will see how bad it’s been. And she shouldn’t have to put up with Wanda’s shit. She’s got her own life, she doesn’t need to deal with Wanda’s curse.

She snaps herself out of her spiral, taking a deep breath and continuing to move. Lilia eyes Wanda knowingly, still smiling. “So. Agatha seems to have taken you under her wing.”

The flush rising in Wanda’s cheeks is warm, and she averts her gaze to the hall in front of them. “In a manner of speaking, yeah. She’s just being nice, I guess.”

They’ve reached Agatha’s office door, just off the main foyer. Lilia turns to regard Wanda, expression difficult to read, before she reaches up and gives the student a squeeze to the shoulder. “Wanda, Agatha doesn’t befriend people just to ‘be nice.’ She sees something in you that catches her attention. Don’t sell yourself so short. I’ll go first just so you don’t get interrupted.”

She’s gone before Wanda can respond, and with the door faintly ajar, she can hear Lilia and Agatha speaking in hushed tones. She tries to tune it out, focusing on the gilded lettering on the door - “Agatha Harkness, Department Head.” Her mouth has gone dry, and her heart is pounding. She's inexplicably dizzy, bracing herself against the wall next to the door. Her mind spins, her thoughts racing so quickly that they’re stumbling into each other - what am I doing here, why does Agatha see anything in me that interests her, why does anyone want to be my friend in the first place - and the air feels thin. Her mind flashes to Agatha holding her hand, reassuring her, and for a moment she feels better.

She’ll abandon you the second she figures out how unbearable you really are. You’re not supposed to be around anyone, Wanda. She’ll get hurt, just like everyone else…or she’ll leave you. You shouldn’t be here. Go the fuck home until your shift starts. You didn’t even bring lunch with you, not that you’d eat it. Pietro doesn’t get to be with his friends, because of you. Go. Home. You don’t deserve to be here. You don’t even deserve to be alive…

“Wanda?”

Despite her vision darkening around the corners, Wanda had started inching away from the office, not realizing she was preparing herself to obey the voice, to go back to her apartment and hide. But Agatha’s door is open more, Lilia is nowhere in sight, and Agatha’s long fingers are wrapped around Wanda’s wrist. Wanda spares a sidelong glance at the older woman, whose expression is curious and concerned all at once. Her brow is furrowed, and her eyes are searching Wanda’s face. “You okay, hun?”

Wanda takes a shaky breath, turning her head fully to look at Agatha. “Um…yeah, sorry. Just…spaced out for a second.”

Agatha tilts her head slightly, just barely tugging on Wanda’s wrist as she speaks. “Then why did you look like you wanted to escape a hostage situation?”

“I make weird faces when I’m distracted,” Wanda replies quietly, but she knows it’s unconvincing…even without Agatha’s single raised eyebrow.

“Either learn to lie better, or don’t ever try to become a professional poker player, Wanda.” Agatha’s voice is firm, but her eyes have softened. “Were you coming to spend the lunch hour with me, dear?”

Wanda nods and looks down at the floor, not trusting herself to speak. She isn’t even sure why she tried to cover her avoidance; in the week and a half since she first met Agatha Harkness, she’s already learned that the woman is sharp, and generally capable of seeing through most lies told face to face. As Wanda’s eyes find the cracks in the floor tiles, she can hear Agatha sigh and feels a gentle squeeze of the fingers around her wrist.

“Come on, sweetheart. I had just finished grading when Lilia came in.”

Agatha’s office is huge for being in a university, almost half the size of Wanda’s apartment, and it’s honestly everything Wanda would expect for someone who teaches occult studies. Opposite Agatha’s large, ornate mahogany desk sits a coffee table and a couple of armchairs against one wall, with a sofa against the opposite. There are hundreds of crystals in jars and everywhere else, the bookshelves lining the back wall are overflowing with tomes, jars with various dried herbs on the shelves in front of the books, moon phase artwork behind Agatha’s desk…

It’s awe-inspiring, and Wanda suddenly feels even smaller than she did before. Don’t touch anything, she doesn’t need things getting broken with your clumsy ass. You shouldn’t even be here.

To her surprise, Agatha doesn’t move to the desk. Instead, the older brunette beelines for the armchair nearest to the door, beckoning silently for Wanda to take the sofa. Wanda obliges, albeit with a fair amount of trepidation. She fidgets with her hands, unsure of what to say or what to do, pulling the excess fabric of her sweater sleeves over her knuckles and twisting the rings on her fingers.

Agatha sits quietly for a moment, and though Wanda hasn’t made eye contact, she can feel those eyes watching her. Finally, the instructor speaks. “Did you bring lunch for yourself? If I’d known you were coming, I’d have brought something for us both.”

Wanda’s heart goes to her throat, and she swallows thickly but tries to play it off. “N-no, I’m not super hungry, but my last class of the day got cancelled. And I’ll be occupied this weekend, not at work, so I thought I should come see you.”

The head tilt Agatha gives her is hard to decipher. Until she opens her mouth again. “Occupied, huh?”

Wanda squirms uncomfortably on the couch, sinking back into the cushions a little. “Yeah, um…my sister, Natasha, is coming to visit. Foster sister, to be specific, one of them anyway. We haven’t - we haven’t seen each other since Pietro’s funeral, and they were only here for the funeral. She told me on Saturday that she booked a flight to come in tomorrow and to change my work schedule for the weekend.”

Agatha hums softly, and Wanda pulls her gaze away from her own hands to listen. “I’m glad she’s coming to see you, then. It’ll be good for you to have someone familiar around for the weekend. Seems pretty spontaneous, though. Did something happen after we parted ways?”

Wanda’s probably much too quick in her response, and she knows it. “No, nothing crazy. She just…she worries a lot. She’s the oldest of all of us who aged out in that house, and she’s always been super protective. She - she helped me with a lot of things when Pietro and I were placed there.”

“Can I ask why you two ended up in the system?” Agatha isn’t demanding, isn’t rough, but seems politely expectant of an answer.

Wanda shifts in her seat, eyes dropping again. She doesn’t talk about her parents much, mostly because it always ends in flashbacks. But she’d rather explain now than later. “My parents emigrated here from Sokovia when we were two, after the war had pretty much stripped every opportunity Papa had. We settled in Ohio. They managed to work up to all of us having dual citizenship…although I guess, now, with Sokovia being divided up, I’m only a citizen here. 

”Things were hard for most of our early years. Papa had an okay job, but it was still not enough for a while. But Papa came home from work one night when we were ten, said we were going to dinner and celebrating because he’d been offered a raise and things were supposed to get so much better from there. It rained that whole night, and on our way home we hydroplaned at the same time as a driver on the other side who had dozed off behind the wheel. Pietro and I managed to be okay, just a few scrapes and bruises. But Mama and Papa took the brunt of it, and they didn’t survive. We didn’t have any living relatives in either country, so the system was all the state could do until we aged out.

“We went through something like…ten or twelve foster homes over three years. Some were decent, but they didn’t know what to do with us. Some sucked. Every time something bad would happen, Pietro packed us up and we ran away. Our caseworker couldn’t figure out how to help. Pepper finally sent us to the Shostakov house when we were thirteen, and it was like a light had gone off. At least for Pietro. He took to them right away, even as the only boy. They had permanent guardianship over Natasha and Yelena, and Pietro and I were right in the middle in terms of age. It took me so long to feel like I didn’t want to run, but Nat and Lena just…they and their parents were what we needed at that time.”

She knows her voice was a little robotic as she retold the story, save for the positives about the family. But she can see the understanding in Agatha’s eyes as they look at each other again.

“It’s good that you have them, Wanda. I hope you’re able to be open and honest with them. It sounds like they care about you very deeply, and you need that.”

“Right,” Wanda nods, looking away for a moment. “But anyway, I figured that even if I didn’t bring lunch, I had to come see you since I haven’t really done that yet.”

Agatha leans forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. Her billowy purple slacks flare out, and Wanda dares to look at her face. The brunette wrinkles her nose, somewhat playfully. “Did you have to, or did you want to? We haven’t had much time to chat this week, doll. If I didn’t know how busy college is, I’d think you were avoiding me since I offered an ear.”

What the hell kind of question is that? Wanda huffs, halfway annoyed and halfway uncertain of what to say. Clutching her bag to her chest, grounding her mind, she curls into herself slightly. “I know I didn’t have to, but I - I don’t know what I want, if we’re being completely truthful.”

Agatha smiles grimly at her. “That’s the most honest answer you’ve given me so far, Wanda. I hate that it’s the truth. But I’m proud of you for saying it.”

“What does that even mean?” Wanda asks before she can stop herself. “You don’t even know me. I literally ran into you face-first in our first interaction. How can you be proud of somebody you just met?”

She winces slightly at her own harsh tone, especially as Agatha’s expression drops a little. The older woman drops her head for a moment, before picking it back up to reveal heavy sadness in her eyes. Wanda instantly regrets her words, but as she opens her mouth to speak, Agatha raises a hand.

“It’s okay, Wanda. I just…you remind me so much of where I was when I walked in your shoes.” Her voice shakes, just barely, for less than a moment. “I wouldn’t want my sworn nemesis to live through that feeling, especially not alone, let alone somebody I would want to consider a friend. If Lilia hadn’t been ready to swoop in and give me some bit of solace, I don’t want to think about where I would be. I don’t think I’d be alive, not teaching here anymore…just gone.”

She leans forward earnestly, gaze locked on Wanda’s wide green eyes. “Wanda, I have genuinely felt like I just wanted to - needed to - be there for you. This is fucking weird, and I know it. But I wanted to know you and call you my friend the second you tripped over apologizing to me in the hall. So yes, I think I’m allowed to be proud of you, because I feel connected to you and I can’t completely explain why. Does that sort of make sense?”

Wanda feels her heart constrict at the words. She wants this - she knows she does, the way she wants to feel so safe and her heart flutters a little before it tightens up - but she can’t wrap her mind around it. She doesn’t enjoy opening up…to anyone, to be completely clear. But something about Agatha fucking Harkness has her lips ready to loosen, her overwhelmed mental state begging to release some of its perpetual burden.

You can’t.

Wanda’s eyes drop back to her hands, which have started to shake. “I understand. I’m sorry. It’s not that weird. I just…”

“You’re afraid,” Agatha says softly, “but it’s not me you’re afraid of, Wanda, and I think we both know that.”

Agatha is completely right, and Wanda’s stomach twists because she knows it, she knows she isn’t afraid of Agatha. She’s afraid of herself - the dark storm brewing under the surface, the rage and grief and poorly-masked pain threatening to spill over and poison those around her, the way she’s slowly but actively poisoning herself in so many senses of the word. Because she knows that what she’s doing will eventually be her ending…the angry yet neat lines on her skin, thinly concealed by sleeves; the mostly-empty cabinets in her apartment, where she barely allows herself a full meal every other day, not because she can’t afford it, but because she doesn’t believe she deserves to thrive in a world where she’s the last one standing of her family line; pushing herself so hard in her dance classes that, paired with the lack of nutrition, she has to take a back route off campus to her apartment so nobody sees her staggering and barely able to stand some days…

Wanda isn’t sure how the hell Agatha can see how bad it is, but she seems to know without knowing the details. And Wanda doesn’t know if she willingly welcomes someone else offering to walk with her through the flames, but it’s still terrifying.

She wants to tell her.

She can’t.

She has to.

She can’t.

“Lots going on in that pretty head of yours,” Agatha murmurs in her ear, and Wanda jumps as she realizes the older woman has moved from the armchair to beside her on the sofa. Agatha grimaces apologetically. “Fuck, sorry, didn’t realize just how out of it you were. What’s up, buttercup?”

She can’t. So she doesn’t, and she doesn’t make eye contact, either. “I’m sorry if this is rude to ask, but who did you lose?” She regrets the words as soon as they’ve left her traitorous mouth, not intending them to sound so rough, but Agatha’s sighing next to her brings her head up to meet her gaze.

Agatha’s eyes are soft, sad, but gentle and inviting in spite of her general demeanor. “Not rude at all, angel. Sharing our story is how we build trust, right?” She takes a deep breath, looking away to stare blankly at the artwork on the wall behind the armchairs. “I…my son died several years ago. It’s been nearly six years now, actually. And my wife passed shortly after. I don’t exactly have a nuclear family, so Rio and Nicky were all I had. Nicky…he was born with epilepsy. We never could fully get it under control. He was six when we lost him, and the grief and guilt…Rio couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t her fault, the baby monitor went out the night we lost him and we didn’t hear it. But she never got past the guilt, and she had a spontaneous stroke a few months later.”

For some reason, Wanda feels the sting of tears behind her eyes. It isn’t her story, her burden, and Agatha’s voice has been relatively steady as she’s spoken. But the shared agony is obvious and it hurts. And it stirs something, not sympathy. Her heart aches with understanding now. She forces herself to look back up, observing Agatha’s profile as those curious blue eyes scan a landscape painting on the wall, but without really seeing.

“I wish I had half the strength you do.”

Agatha turns her head, meeting Wanda’s gaze. Wanda wants to shrink back, Agatha’s expression is intense, but it’s also all-consuming and she feels like she can’t get away. “Sweetheart, I’m going to be honest, I sure as hell never felt strong in the first year. I spiraled hard, fell into vices I shouldn’t have because I didn’t see a reason to be alive at that point, but I was still breathing. And I was so angry, because I was still here and they weren’t. They were all I had left at the time.”

“But you’re here now.” It’s not a question, and they both know it. Agatha gives her a gentle smile, and her hand is on Wanda’s knee with a faint squeeze. Wanda tries to ignore the unanticipated flutter in her chest at the contact, but thankfully Agatha doesn’t seem to notice.

“Because I let someone in. Lilia…was an old friend, although we’d lost touch over time. I took the job here at NYU a few months before Nicky died, and after Rio…Lilia was steady. And patient. She kept me afloat, pushed me to try again when I fell. Forced my ass into therapy for a good while. It took ages…but I’m here.”

Another knee squeeze, firmer this time. “Wanda, I don’t know everything you’re going through, or everything you’ve survived. But it doesn't take a psychologist to see how badly you’re hurting. I can’t say I’ve seen a single student before you come through this building so desperate to remain unseen…but you don’t have to live this way, honey.”

And there it is. Wanda purses her lips to keep them from quivering. Agatha’s voice is soothing and low, and she’s throwing a life jacket to a woman who feels like she doesn’t have a choice but to drown. Wanda can’t talk about it, she can’t, not her pain, it hurts, the feelings are too much to discuss…she can only safely discuss the events surrounding her current state. She wants to. God does she want to just…throw herself into the older woman’s arms and sob, tell Agatha about the subconscious voice that taunts her, show her what’s under the sweater sleeves, and ask for help.

If someone helps you, you will have to live the rest of your life without your family. And you’re the least deserving of them all.

“You’re wasting your time, trying to help me,” Wanda mutters harshly, momentarily surprised at the raspy quality of her voice as she pushes the tears back. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Agatha challenges, only the slightest edge to her tone. “You were in the middle of a panic attack and trying to sneak away when I opened my office door. Your hands shake when the conversation is too personal for you. When your discomfort picks up, you look like you want to run. Your emotions are still very present in your face, even when you’re doing your best to hide them. At least, when one knows what to look for. I’ve watched you this entire time, Wanda. I can see the battles happening behind those eyes, darling, I’ve fucking lived them - maybe not the same as yours, since I don’t know your vices, but the sentiment carries over. You don’t deserve to torment yourself because of how your life has gone.”

Wanda opens her mouth, then closes it and squeezes her eyes shut. She tries to take as many deep breaths as possible, but her lungs feel tight and the air feels thin. She can hear her own heart pounding in her ears, and she tries to manage speech and stammers miserably. ‘’Y-you don’t know t-that.”

Agatha’s hand on her knee has moved, and she didn’t notice until now, when it starts rubbing soothing circles on her upper back. Wanda buries her face in her hands - she honestly doesn’t think she can face the older woman right now, not when it’s so obvious that she’s going to see right through any excuse Wanda crafts.

“Wanda, you never deserved any of the shit that’s happened to you. If you don’t decide to push me away, this is why I’m so hellbent on being there for you. You’re drowning, sweetheart, and I’d rather not see you go under. I’m sure your sisters wouldn’t be very thrilled, either.”

Wanda doesn’t respond. Her voice doesn’t feel like it functions, like it even belongs to her at all. She still can’t breathe, damn it, and her hands are still trembling. She just wants to block it all out, and so she pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, bowing her head into the dark cocoon she’s made for herself.

She’s not expecting Agatha to wrap her arms around Wanda’s small, curled up frame and pull the younger woman into a tight hug. So when it happens, her muscles tense instinctively. But Agatha doesn’t pull away, doesn’t show any sign of being hurt by the response; instead, one of her hands is now tenderly carding through the hair still laying across Wanda’s shoulders, while the other hand gently tugs the younger woman closer and runs up and down Wanda’s arm.

“I’m here, Wanda. I don’t know if that’s actually comforting, but I’m right here, for you.”

Surprisingly, Wanda feels her muscles relax, and she releases her vice grip on her legs to lean into the offered affection.

“It helps,” she replies softly, surprised her voice works but needing to at least provide affirmation. “Thank you. It helps a lot. I’m just…I don’t know how I feel about all of this.”

“It’ll take some time, sweet pea. That’s to be expected.” Agatha lowers her face to Wanda’s ear, and the breath tickles but Wanda tries not to squirm. “Food might be a good start, though. I’m getting my lunch out. I probably have enough extra to feed you too, if you’re up for that?”

Wanda stiffens, pulling out of the hug and brushing her legs off awkwardly. “Actually, I should probably get going. I have to work at two.”

Agatha’s eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t try to keep a grip on the redhead. “Fair enough. But please eat something before your shift, you don’t need to pass out. Say…what time do you get off tonight?”

Wanda’s heart thuds in her chest as she stands and steps towards the door. “7:30, they know Nat’s coming in and decided to only pull me in for a few hours…why?”

Agatha stands too, stepping closer, reaching out to brush her fingers against Wanda’s forearm. Her skin tingles where Agatha touches her, and her breath stutters faintly. Why does she affect me like this?

“Could we go have dinner when you’re off? My treat. Since I won’t be able to irritate you at work this weekend, that is,” and Agatha fucking smiles and winks at her and Wanda’s heart speeds up. She’s faintly surprised she hasn’t passed out, but perhaps it’s an absurd conclusion. 

Agatha clears her throat, and Wanda realizes in horror that she’s supposed to answer the fucking question, but Agatha is looking at her like she fucking knows. Her fingers continue lightly caressing Wanda’s forearm, and she shivers a little.

She asked me to go to dinner. She asked me to spend time with her.

Wait, does she actually like me? Why do I feel like this?

Doesn’t matter if she likes you. She’ll find you repulsive soon enough. You’re not going to eat out. Pietro never-

Stop it. Wanda tries to block out the cacophony of thoughts and slows down. Agatha is looking at her…

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Wanda. You’re allowed to say no.” Her voice is soft, raspy, gentle. She starts to withdraw her hand, but Wanda catches it with her own, gripping Agatha’s hand like a lifeline.

“No. Agatha. It’s okay. I want to go tonight. I want to. I…I got stuck, in my head. I’m sorry. I want to go to dinner with you. I…” Her courage falters, and she ducks her head, but refuses to let go of Agatha’s hand. A jolt of electricity courses through her at the other woman’s thumb rubbing her knuckles.

“Wanda.”

“Hm?”

“Look at me, please?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s too hard.”

“What are you afraid of, honey?”

“Being your friend…just to lose you. And I’ve only known you for a week.” Wanda’s own honesty makes her inhale sharply, and Agatha does too. Her fingers release Wanda’s hand, and both of her hands come up to rest warmly on Wanda’s shoulders.

“Sweetheart. Please look at me.” Agatha’s tone is so soft, it’s different. Wanda raises her head. “Thank you. You aren’t going to lose me. If you want me here, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Wanda. Please try to believe me on that. Now. Why were you hesitant about dinner, if you do supposedly want to go?”

“I’m afraid to tell you, honestly.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Agatha’s voice, for once, sounds hesitant. Wanda doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like uncertainty on this woman, not when she normally wears her confidence like a shroud.

“No. I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of how intense this all feels, but I’m not ready to explain it.”

“That’s okay, honey. What are you afraid to tell me? I’m not going to judge you, Wanda. Well, I might judge a little, but only because I’ve been there.” Agatha’s voice lilts, teasing, and Wanda relaxes a little as she giggles. And the warmth in Agatha’s eyes finally washes over her. Agatha wouldn’t be talking to her, hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to open up like this if she didn’t care.

“I can’t eat anything.” Nausea feels like it’s stinging her a little. For once, she searches for the voice in her head, almost wishing it would scream at her For being honest. Why is it silent the one time she actually isn’t ripped to shreds by it?

Agatha’s eyes shift in color, suddenly appearing so deep blue that they’re almost violet. “I had a feeling, sweetheart.”

Wanda blinks, hard, before responding. “You…you did?” Has Agatha been watching her, following her? What else does she know? 

Wait. She’s not following Wanda. She barely knows her. Why am I so paranoid?

Agatha hums, squeezing her shoulders. “I’ve had people I cared about in similar boats. Unfortunately, I know the signs.”

What signs? Signs of what? Wanda can’t figure out what the hell Agatha means. “What?”

That grim smile crosses Agatha’s face again. “Early warning signs for an eating disorder, honey. You won’t even look at me when I offer you food.”

Wanda looks away - how the hell can she work around this?  

You don’t have a disorder, you deserve this, hisses the voice that taunts her. This is punishment, not clinical. You could stop if you wanted to.

Could I?

The voice is back. Why?

“I - I don’t have…I don’t have one of those.” The words taste sour, and maybe it’s because Wanda knows she’s trying to lie, but she isn’t sure she believes it’s a lie. Her old Sokovian accent thickens as she speaks. “I’m not sick. I just…I can’t do it.”

Agatha lets out a sigh, allowing her thumbs to gently rub Wanda’s shoulders. “We don’t have to go out, hun. I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

Wanda’s cheeks burn with the shame of feeling like she’s rejected Agatha. She can’t have that. “What if we hang out at someone’s house and watch a movie? I only have one class tomorrow and it’s at 11.”

“That could work. But Wanda…” Agatha’s eyes bore into hers, and it’s uncomfortable but not in the sense that makes her want to run. “If we do this, can you please still eat? I will cook, I will order something, I don’t care, but you’re swaying on your feet and I need you to eat something. I just made a new friend out of you and I hate hospitals.”

Against the odds, Wanda laughs, genuinely even if the humor is a little dark. “I…I’ll do my best.”

The warm smile on Agatha’s face, which covers Wanda like a blanket, makes it worth it.

Natasha:

Hey, kid. I should be at your apartment around 3 tomorrow. You’ll be out of class by then, right?

Wanda:

Hey. Yeah, that should be fine. I’m usually at work by then. My one class is at 11 and it’s only an hour long.

Natasha:

That’s good. Thanks for actually fucking texting me back this time, by the way. Are you trying to go to sleep? It’s late for you.

Wanda:

Sorry…it’s been busy. And no, I’m actually sitting on Agatha’s couch, watching a movie.

To clarify, she’s the new friend I was talking about. She wanted to go to dinner, but I told her I’d rather just stay home and watch a movie.

Natasha:

Is she being good to you?

Wanda:

What? Yes, she’s been really great. We’re not DATING, Natasha, I’ve known the woman for a week and I don’t even know if I like women.

Natasha:

Baby, you can’t fool me for a damn second. Even if you can fool yourself. I’ve seen you check out enough women to know you very clearly like women.

Wanda:

But…I dated Vision…and I kind of felt something for him?

Natasha:

You are NOT helping your case by bringing up that asshole, honey.

Vision has a lot of growing up to do.

You didn’t deserve the way he treated you.

If he hadn’t run himself out of town for college, I might have killed the fucker. You deserve better.

And if you have feelings for this woman, 1) be SO fucking careful, there’s a power imbalance, do NOT let her push you into things you don’t feel safe doing, and 2) do NOT convince yourself you don’t deserve to be loved.

Wanda:

I don’t want to talk about this right now, Nat.

And Vision still won’t leave me alone, if you must know. I’ve blocked him three times. Last time, it was preceded by a very clear “fuck off.”

Natasha:

THERE’S my little savage!

We’ll circle back to him harassing you. I might be able to help with that this weekend. Found a new software I’ve been using to track burner phone lines. Don’t ask.

Also, is this Agatha feeding you, and are you actually eating?

Wanda:

Наталья Алиановна Романова, I’m fine. Stop freaking out.

Natasha:

Full name? Don’t do that to me, you little shit.

I’m worried about you. I have every right to be. I don’t want to have to see you hooked up to so many wires and tubes that I can’t see that sweet little face. And I don’t want to have to bury you, or scatter your ashes. Not now.

You have to eat, малыш. I know it seems impossible, but you have to.

I can’t lose you, Wanda. I can’t pretend to feel the insurmountable amount of pain you’re radiating (whether you’ll admit it or not, I know you’re suffering and I hate that you won’t just let me the fuck in), but Pietro has been my brother since you guys were tiny little barely-teenagers. Mine and Lena’s. Not our twin, but our brother. We aren’t feeling the severity of your pain, but it’s hurting us too. Neither of us wants to lose you to that storm in your head.

I’m pretty sure, if you talked to Mom and Dad, that they’d feel the same way.

Also, Wanda Iryna Maximoff, if you fucking leave me, I’m bringing you back and killing you myself.

Wanda:

Okay, that made me laugh. So I’ll forgive you for using my fucking middle name. Asshole.

Natasha:

You started it. And I like your middle name. Your eyes get all soft when I use it sometimes, and I know it reminds you of your birth mom.

Wanda:

Fair point. Sorry, just stressed.

I’ll be okay. 

If it makes you feel better, Agatha did make a really, really good soup. I have no idea what all she put in it, but she said it’s supposed to be filling without being overwhelming. Something about how it helps when your head is too heavy to eat normally.

Natasha:

And you ate, from the sound of it. I’m proud of you, маленькая ведьма. I hope we can keep your mind quiet this weekend. You deserve that. We haven’t gotten to have fun in awhile.

Maybe you should ask her for that soup recipe. That way we can have some on hand in your apartment. If it becomes a safe food for you, I’m not going to complain. As long as we get you to eat.

Wanda:

She said she’ll get it to me soon. She doesn’t share this recipe much because it’s “special” in that it’s an old family one, but for me she’ll do it. Don’t I feel special.

Can we go to the arcade down the street from my apartment this weekend? I know it seems childish as all hell, but I miss doing that.

Natasha:

Of course we can, sweetheart.

Also, you’re not refuting the allegations of attraction very well, маленький такой.

But if she’s getting you to eat and giving you a special recipe to make sure you are putting something on your stomach, I won’t complain or tease too much.

You know I don’t mean anything maliciously, right? I just want you to be safe.

Wanda:

…I know.

I’m sorry, Talia.

I don’t want you guys to worry about me.

I’m trying to be okay on my own. I’m an adult now.

Natasha:

Wanda…

You went through so many traumatic life events as a child that I’d be shocked if you’ve even come close to reconciling your age and your stability.

You’re still hurting yourself. I’m willing to bet the $25 in my wallet that if I asked you to wear short sleeves and NOT have your gloves or bracelets on, you’d either refuse or I’d see fresh marks.

And if I find a scale in your apartment, I’m taking it to the dumpster myself.

You don’t stop suffering, don’t stop battling your vices just because you hit an age that dictates drinking, voting, military service, etc. 

I’d almost guarantee that if this Agatha cares so much about you right now, she sees familiarity. Ask her about her coping skills. Or if she’s ever spiraled. She’s older than you, right?

Wanda:

Nat, please.

And she’s 34. Older than you, too.

We talked about grief today. She lost her son. And her wife. Several years ago. She didn’t tell me about her coping skills, but admitted she had some really bad ones during that time.

I just…I feel like I should be able to deal with it. Everyone else is handling their own shit, why can’t I?

Natasha:

Listen to me, девочка. Nobody handles it alone, and if they tell you they’re doing it alone…they’re fucking lying.

If they’re doing it alone, there will be suffering for them.

You’ve suffered enough.

Wanda:

It doesn’t feel like it’ll ever be enough.

I don’t want to elaborate. I can’t. It’s too loud.

I’m going to put my phone up for now, though. I’m actually feeling okay right now, and I want to enjoy my time with my new friend. And I want to enjoy my time with my sister this weekend.

Natasha:

Okay.

Я люблю тебя, милая девочка. Развлекайся. Увидимся завтра.

Wanda:

Я тоже тебя люблю, Наталия. Увидимся завтра. Я на самом деле очень рад тебя видеть. 🙂

Chapter Text

“Hey, kid. Can I come in, or do I have to stand in the doorway all night?”

Wanda feels her face light up, and she grins as her nose scrunches. “Depends on whether you brought me any presents, I guess.”

Natasha, standing casually in the doorway with her duffel bag, snorts and makes a face, though there’s nothing but love in her eyes. “Have I ever told you that you’re insufferable?”

“Once or twice, but your bluntness makes you awesome.” Wanda grabs Natasha’s duffel, ushers her sister inside, and strides to drop the duffel on the couch. When she turns, she jumps slightly at Natasha being right fucking behind her. The grin on the older redhead’s face makes up for it, and she immediately pulls Wanda into a hug that almost feels bone-crushing. Wanda hugs back without a single hesitation, feeling her eyes well up but pushing it back. “I missed you. I know I just saw you like a month ago…”

“I missed you too, kiddo,” and Natasha turns to plant a kiss on her temple, smiling against the side of Wanda’s head. “You changed shampoos again. I like this one.”

“I’m surprised you’re tall enough to notice,” Wanda teases. Natasha pulls back, still grinning mischievously.

“Baby girl. If you wore heels, you’d understand!” Natasha pops her foot to reveal chunky-heeled boots that have to be four to five inches tall, and Wanda grimaces.

“My ankles would be constantly injured. It would be something like my first year of pointe, but infinitely worse,” she groans. Natasha snickers, looking Wanda over.

“I can still hear Peggy shouting, ‘go wrap your ankles, Maximoff, before I confiscate your pointe shoes and make you spend the rest of class with a therapy band and a tennis ball!’ She always did get really upset when you didn’t take the right precautions to stay safe - that’s why I’m glad she was who we all had.” Nat’s smile fades a little, and she meets Wanda’s bright green eyes with concern in her darker green ones. “I just wish she’d been able to drill that into your head with normal life, too.”

Wanda softens her smile, wrapping her arms around Natasha again. “I feel better today. You’re here. And I ate yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Baby, it’s 3:00.” Natasha sounds like she’s trying to be less stern and worried, but she failed miserably. Wanda sighs, burying her face into the crook of Natasha’s neck, taking in the lingering scent of Natasha’s perfume and home.

“I know, Tasha. I overslept and I didn’t have time to grab food, then I had to drop something off for an extra credit project. It’s just been a fast day. I’ll eat with you here in a bit!” She’s earnest, and she’s trying. She needs Natasha to believe her, because she’s going to do better this weekend. She has to, at least to keep everyone happy.

Keep them off your back.

Natasha doesn’t look convinced as they break apart, but she lets it slide a little. “And everything else, Wanda? The drinking…the cutting?”

Wanda’s head lowers, eyes dropping to her feet. “Can we please not talk about it? I don’t want to feel it right now. I just want to be with my sister right now. I’m sorry, I know I’m avoiding it-”

“Hey.” Natasha reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear. Wanda looks up to meet her gaze, and Nat is smiling at her, because Nat just…knows. “It’s okay, detka. We don’t have to talk about it. I just want my girls to be safe. We’re all we have, and we’re all Mom and Dad have. They keep texting me about you, wanting to know whether I’ve spoken with you and if you were okay.” 

Wanda scoffs and shakes her head. “They are in Turkey. Why are they texting you about me? They’re supposed to be off ‘seeing the world’ or whatever the hell Alexei was shouting in Russian the night they showed us the retirement plans. They shouldn’t have time to worry about me.”

Natasha’s head tilts slightly, her eyes seeming more…anxious. “They’re worried because you don’t ever text them, baby, and you’re family. They send me updates. They worry because you’re…out here by yourself.”

Wanda sighs. “Fair enough, I guess. I just hate when people worry.”

Natasha smiles gently. “We only worry because we love you, kiddo. Now, what do we want to do for dinner later? Or what do we want to do until dinner?”

As Wanda pushes her way through finishing a slice of pizza, she can’t help but wonder why she can’t just be better.

Across from her, at one of those tiny mall food court tables that shouldn’t even fit one person, Natasha is animatedly telling a story from the last time she visited Yelena, complete with exaggerated hand gestures. Wanda has been giggling for most of the story, but it fades when she forces the food past her lips. And she hates it, wishes she could just enjoy being with her sister, and enjoy one slice of fucking pizza.

You can’t. This is just for this weekend. Get them off your back. It’ll get you closer to joining your brother.

“Wanda?”

Her head snaps up so fast that she feels a muscle in her neck protest. “Yeah?”

Natasha tilts her head, looking from Wanda’s eyes to her half-eaten slice. “You don’t have to finish it, but how are you feeling?” Her dark green eyes are so sincere, so concerned and it makes Wanda’s chest ache. She wishes she could just eat, have clean arms without feeling bad about it, not need to drink to shut her darkness off for a while. She hates this. Hates that she’s so weak that Natasha, the cool and collected older sibling, is worried about her, came all the way to see her because of it.

“I’m fine,” she says softly, unconvincingly, and Natasha sighs. She reaches across the tiny table and covers Wanda’s shaking hand with her own.

“I know you’re not. And it’s okay to admit that. But I can see you’re not ready to admit it, so we can move on. Wanna go hit some games?” Natasha grins at her, and the tension fades. Wanda feels a faint glimmer of joy over it, and nods quickly.

Half an hour, a few other games, and several Connect 4 basketball rounds later, the pair leans back against a wall, watching the teenagers (and small children with begrudging parents) run around and play games. Wanda had forgotten just how much she’s missed this - being with one of her sisters and just letting shit go. It’s not a bar (though there is one in this arcade, but Natasha has banned alcohol for the night), it’s not a club, it’s just them being together.

Out of the blue, Natasha turns to her with a knowing look in her eye - one that makes Wanda a little bit nervous - and a playful smirk. “Soooooo, would your big sister get to meet your new friend this weekend?”

Wanda groans, leaning her head back against the wall and letting an exasperated puff of air blow her hair away from her face. “Oh my god, my sisters are so annoying!” She grins a little, mostly to let Natasha know she means nothing by it, then straightens back up. “We hadn’t planned on hanging out this weekend, actually. I told her you were coming in and she invited me to hang out last night so that she doesn’t interrupt my time with you.”

Natasha’s expression softens unexpectedly. “She did that for you? Ugh. Guess I do need to be nicer. And meet her so I can be sure I approve of her.”

“Natasha!” Wanda chides in a low hiss, feeling her cheeks flush and heat up. “She’s just a friend!”

“Then why are you whispering like we’re about to steal the Declaration of Independence, Wanda?” Natasha leans in close and grins, mischief lighting up her dark eyes. Wanda can’t fight back the somewhat juvenile pout that comes over her face, but she’s also trying not to laugh it off, because then it would be a nervous laugh and Natasha would read her for fucking filth. 

As it is, though, it seems she knows. “Your face is redder than your hair right now, baby girl. Hasn’t reached mine, but you are blushing and hard. You like her, just admit it.” She sighs dramatically. “My sweet little sister, corrupted by college into liking hot older women instead of same-age dipshit men!”

Wanda’s cheeks burn harder as she bites her lower lip and looks down at her shoes again. Natasha’s right - of course she is, even if she’s kidding - but something about admitting it just makes Wanda unreasonably nervous. Maybe it’s because there is an age difference, and a power imbalance. Maybe it’s because Wanda has never once considered that she might be interested in women - hell, she only dated Vision because he showered her with attention for months beforehand, trying to gain her favor. “Love-bombing,” Kate had called it later on after Wanda finally broke up with him, so that Wanda would accept the less savory parts of his personality.

But Agatha…something about Agatha makes her heart skip beats. There’s something about the older woman that makes Wanda nervous, brings a heat under her skin that she doesn’t remember ever feeling before.

Maybe it’s because Agatha is out of your league, and you don’t deserve to be dating new people or being happy with anyone. Not now. Not anymore.

“I’m not sure it’s even like that,” Wanda mumbles, shuffling her toes. “I mean, we’ve known each other for less than two weeks. Hell, Nat, my first interaction with Agatha was walking straight into her, falling on my ass, and then having to shove books back into my bag while she insisted on helping and walking me to class!”

“So she’s chivalrous,” Natasha quips. “Would mean that maybe you get treated with some fucking respect for once. Have you considered that the reason you aren’t sure is because she’s not throwing red flags everywhere? You seem attracted to those.”

Her eyes are sparkling with mirth, but Wanda scrunches her nose in annoyance and huffs again. “Nat, Vision was an abject failure on behalf of my judgment, I’ll give you that. But Agatha is out of my league. I thought the age thing was a red flag to you?”

“HA! So you do admit you’re into her!” Natasha says triumphantly, leaving Wanda to frantically shush her. “What, are you afraid she’ll hear you? Is she here?”

“No, you just got really loud!”

“Why does it matter?”

“It just does! Can we go back to gaming now? Please?”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but her face shows a gentle understanding that is so uniquely Natasha that it makes Wanda’s lips twitch at the corners. “Fine, fine, point taken.”

Wanda:

Hey! Weird question, but are you free tomorrow?

Agatha:

Hey, pretty girl. :)

I am, unfortunately, quite available all weekend - is everything okay? I thought your sister was in town.

Wanda:

Well, she IS…

She asked if you were free. Something about getting to know new friends, making sure people are good for me, whatever.

She was planning to cook dinner tomorrow at my place, and asked if you’d want to come over.

It’s embarrassing that she’s being so weird about it, and you have my full permission to pretend you’re busy and back out!

Agatha:

She’s just being protective, honey, and she has every right, from the sound of it.

I can already tell that having her with you this weekend is doing wonders for your headspace, at least for the next few days.

I’ll come hang out with you two. Doesn’t bother me that she’s wanting to meet me, and it’s not embarrassing. She’s just being a good sister.

Any chance I have to see you, I’m taking it. ;)

Wanda:

Thanks, I think?

I’d be happy to spend some more time with you even while she’s here, though. I’ll let her know you’re coming, and I’ll text you which apartments tomorrow.

And Agatha?

Thank you so much for humoring her on this.

Agatha:

Like I said, sweetheart, I’d love to get to see you this weekend. And if I’m not imposing on your time with Natasha, I’m happy to oblige.

However, given that it’s currently 11:45 and I spent most of today grading project outlines, I’m going to bed before my eyes cross completely and render me useless to leave the house.

I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow, dear. :)

Wanda:

Me too. Thank you again, Agatha. :)

Good night! I hope the sleep makes up for the grading!

Agatha:

It will, but not as much as seeing you tomorrow.

Good night, sweet girl. :)

-

As Wanda settles into her bed, leaning her head against Natasha’s shoulder, she smiles softly, involuntarily. “Agatha said she’s down with coming for dinner tomorrow.”

“I saw,” hums her sister, a devious little smirk playing on Natasha’s lips. “I also saw her flirting with you. I knew I was right. You two like each other, you just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Shut up,” Wanda grumbles, but the smile doesn’t leave her face, not even after the lights are off.

Not until the stupid voice chimes in with: Even if she likes you, she’ll leave when she realizes how pathetic you are. You’re not worth knowing.

She lets out a long, involuntary sigh, her stomach twisting at the thought. There goes the spark of good.

“Wanda?” Natasha murmurs into the darkness, and Wanda makes a small noise to confirm that she’s still awake. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Yeah,” Wanda confirms softly, though for some reason the exchange has her eyes stinging with tears for a moment. “I know. And I love you too.”

“Good. I don’t care how frequently I say it…I mean it. We love you. I love you. You have a place with us. Okay?”

“Okay, Tasha, I get it,” Wanda sighs, but she goes to sleep feeling warmer than she has in weeks.

Maybe having Natasha here this weekend will stop the nightmares, and the emptiness. For now, anyway.

Chapter Text

“How on earth are your cabinets so empty, Wanda?” Natasha’s incredulous voice calls from the kitchen, and Wanda feels herself stiffen. Shit. The cabinets. She’d forgotten to go to the store before Natasha arrived yesterday.

“Most of my eating has been outside the apartment for the last month, Tasha. Seems wasteful to keep a lot of food In the cupboards if I’m barely home,” she replies, trying desperately to give the sense of nonchalance. She’s optimistic that it worked, until Natasha rounds the corner with an exasperated glare.

Wanda tries, and fails, not to shrink under the weight of Natasha’s gaze. The older woman raises an eyebrow. “You look like a deer in headlights, kid. And I know you’re lying, but that face sealed it for me.”

“Well, what other face am I supposed to make, when you’re looking at me like that?”

Natasha chuckles humorlessly, but her eyes are still trained on her sister with a note of concern. “You’re really not doing a great job of convincing me you’re doing okay, dorogaya,” she murmurs, slowly moving across the space to where Wanda stands, dusting the TV stand and the shelves around it. “You know I can see the truth just by looking at you, right? Your cabinets are empty, you just went through another traumatic life event, and you have a history of doing harm to your own body when things get bad, but you want me to believe you’re trying to do better?”

Wanda flares her nostrils, not because she’s angry at Natasha for calling her out - but because she knows Natasha is right, and Natasha also knows it. She can’t hide things from Natasha. Not after eight years.

Get better at lying then, stupid.

“You’re a private investigator, Tasha, of course you see things others don’t. Guess we should go to the store before dinner, then, yeah?” she asks, forcing herself to sound casual before turning back to her dusting. “Let me finish this and I’ll go change so we can get that done.”

“Wanda.”

“Yes?” She squeaks a little as she responds, and immediately resists the urge to curse at the way she can’t play it cool. She nearly jumps out of her skin at the feeling of Natasha’s hand on her forearm, but she keeps dusting, almost robotically. She still doesn’t make eye contact.

“You can’t avoid this forever, baby.” Natasha’s other hand stops Wanda’s, gently wrestling the duster from her grip. “Yes, we are going to the store and getting food. But we can’t keep skirting around this. You can’t pretend you’re fine when you’re actively on the self-destructive warpath. You can’t hide shit from me.”

“I know I can’t,” Wanda turns, frustrated, to reluctantly look at her sister. “But I’m trying to do better. I’m trying not to let this hit so hard.”

Natasha’s brows furrow, and she reaches out to graze her fingertips along Wanda’s cheek. Wanda leans into the touch without thinking; Natasha, in spite of being into martial arts and hiking and dance and kickboxing, has always had the softest touch and the gentlest hands. Natasha has always been the first person, outside of Wanda’s birth family, who has really seen Wanda for who she is and loved her no matter what, has always fought to keep her close even when Wanda tries to push everyone away.

Natasha smiles at Wanda’s reaction, but the smile is sorrowful and it breaks the younger woman’s heart. “You’re trying, d etka, but you’re struggling and you’re trying to do it alone. You can tell me you’re eating out a bunch, but this shirt,” she lightly pinches the sleeve of Wanda’s long-sleeve t-shirt, “is supposed to be fitted, and it was almost perfect on you when I gave it to you at Thanksgiving. Now it swallows you. You can’t tell me you’re eating enough to survive, because your clothes and your face tell me you’re not. You can’t tell me you’re sleeping decently, because not only do you have the darkest circles I’ve seen in a while under your eyes, but you also had a nightmare last night. You won’t uncover your arms, Wanda, and that tells me the other question I’d be asking. The only thing I’m not going to ask about is alcohol, because I haven’t seen liquor in the cabinets and you haven’t dragged me to the store. So I know the drinking is intermittent if it’s happening.”

Her hand stays on Wanda’s face, coming to rest on her cheek. Wanda flinches away from the contact, once the words have been said, and her mind is reeling. She pulls her arms around herself, unconsciously digging her fingernails into her flesh above her shirt, trying so hard not to snap at Natasha, because she understands why and she knows that logically she’s right, and Natasha doesn’t deserve how shitty Wanda can be.

“Please don’t right now. Please. I’m trying to keep my emotions in check so I don’t make an ass of myself.”

Natasha tilts her head, and starts to look a little upset. Wanda tries not to think too hard about it. “Wanda, I’d honestly feel better if you did yell. If you did lose your temper, lash out, scream, cry, throw things, something to show me that you are fucking dealing with your emotions and the shit you’ve been through instead of letting yourself drown.”

“I’m trying to be a good sister. I’m trying not to hurt anyone.” Wanda feels like she’s reciting from a book, like she's rehearsed this in her head a thousand times (she really hasn't). Her voice sounds distant to her own ears. What the fuck is happening?

“Wanda, it’s not being a good sister to kill yourself in the slowest way possible and leave us all helpless  and unable to stop you from doing it!”  Natasha’s voice cracks, and she reaches for Wanda. Wanda is reeling again, her composure is this close to cracking, her lips are quivering and she can’t stop it-

“I - Natasha, I don’t…I’m not…” Wanda can’t find the words, where did they go? How does she explain? “I’m not…that’s not what I’m…”

Natasha understands. She always does. “Baby girl. Please look at me.” She’s reached Wanda now, is gently pulling her arms apart so she’s not clawing at them unconsciously with her nails, is looking at her with so much love and concern and it hurts. “You may not be trying to die, but you’re killing yourself. I don’t want to lose you. You need help, baby, and I don’t know what to do to get you there.”

Wanda’s lips tremble violently, and she feels so damn small and weak and ashamed and it never stops -

“I’m sorry!” She surprises herself by blurting it out, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. Natasha is blurry in front of her and she lurches forward, reaching for comfort she doesn’t deserve. “I’m sorry, Tasha.”

Natasha catches her, like she always has, since the first time she almost blacked out in ballet because she hadn’t eaten anything in days but couldn’t bear to tell anyone. Her voice is soft, and low, and she wraps around Wanda like a blanket, walks her to the couch and sits down, pulling Wanda into her lap and cradling her. She’s never felt so weak, and the voice is screaming at her, but she tries to listen to Natasha.

“Wanda. Honey. I don’t want you to apologize for hurting yourself like this. I want you to stay, to fight back, to let us in. You don’t have to feel like this. It was not your fault. Do you understand me? It wasn’t your fault.”

Yes it was.

“Wanda. Look at me. It was not. Your. Fault.”

“Yes it fucking was!” she chokes out, trying to shrink back, pushing away, but Natasha won’t let her. Natasha pulls her closer, rocks her side to side, kisses the top of her head, like she did when Wanda was 14 and Natasha was a big all-important senior in high school but treated Wanda and Pietro and Yelena like her top priority, because they were, she’s loved them with everything she has. She’s shushing, and Wanda tries to hone in on the sound, on the feeling of her sister’s heart beating, but Pietro’s heart can’t anymore and half of her is gone and it’s too much to think about and her lungs full tight and the air is so thin -

“Wanda, you need to breathe. Listen to my breathing. Copy it.”

She doesn’t have a choice but to comply, and she’s calming down slowly. Each breath mirrors Natasha’s slow, exaggerated ones, until suddenly she can breathe again and her tears have slowed. The shame of it all weighs on her like being trapped under a mountain, but she’s trying not to show it.

She’s supposed to be better.

She was doing so much better with coping. With defeating her demons.

But you had Pietro, and because of you he’s dead.

“It was my idea to go to the gas station for snacks that night,” she whispers, burying her face in Natasha’s shoulder. “We were out of his favorite popcorn seasoning and that stupid sour candy he always liked, and he said it was fine but I told him we had to go get them or it wouldn’t be right. I didn’t mean for this to happen…”

“Wanda.”

Sniffle. “Yes?”

“It still wasn’t your fault.”

Wanda tries to keep her voice steady now. “Okay.”

(She doesn’t believe it, not for a fucking second, but if she keeps arguing, Natasha won’t believe she’s trying to do better.)

She feels Natasha sigh into her hair. “We’re gonna be okay, kid. I don’t know how, but we’re gonna be okay. Do you want a few minutes to calm down before we go to the store?”

Bigger crisis averted.

Wanda pulls back and nods.

Wanda tries hard not to let her leg bounce at a speed that threatens the sound barrier. She checks her phone for the thousandth time in the last half-hour, only to set it back down as if offended by her own lock screen (she’s not, but it’s been less than a minute since she last checked the time). In the kitchen, where she’s closely monitoring the oven, Natasha leans against the counter by the sink, an amused smirk on her lips.

“I feel like I’m meeting a child’s first romantic partner,” she jokes, her voice low and smooth. Wanda shoots her a glare, which just eggs her on. “You know, for just being ‘friends,’ you are quite antsy about this dinner.”

“I am not,” Wanda grumbles, and Natasha snorts derisively, her smirk turning into a grin.

“Oh you sweet little flustered thing, you lie! I’ve been watching - you’ve checked the time every 45 seconds for the last hour, dude!”

“I - uh - I just want to be sure dinner is done on time and she’s either not kept waiting or it gets cold before she gets here! I don’t want her first impression of your chicken paprikash to be negative, it’s so good,” and Wanda flashes her most dazzling smile at her sister, hoping desperately the flattery makes Natasha forget to tease her for a moment. Thankfully, she’s spared from the snarky remark she can see starting to form in Natasha’s mind, because there’s a knock on the front door.

Wanda’s heart pounds loud in her ears, and she’s on her feet, rushing to the entryway. She vaguely hears Natasha chuckle behind her, still in the kitchen, but she doesn’t process it. Instead, she swings the door open carefully and offers a bright, hopefully not-too-nervous-looking smile to Agatha, who’s standing in front of the door waiting.

“Hi!” Wanda says, but it sounds like more of a squeak to her own ears, and she feels her cheeks burn almost immediately about it.

Agatha grins at her, eyes sharp but playful as they look Wanda over. “Hi, sweet girl. Can I come in?”

Wanda’s face flushes harder, and she steps back to give more space in the doorway. “Yeah, of course! I think dinner is about to come out of the oven, so your timing is impeccable.”

As Agatha passes her to step inside, she reaches up and squeezes Wanda’s shoulder, intention clearly reassuring. “Breathe, honey. You’re radiating anxiety.”

“Radiating anxiety is her core personality trait,” Natasha remarks dryly from the kitchen, just before the oven timer dings. Wanda shoots her a glare.

“Check your sass, Romanov.”

“Check your attitude, Maximoff, especially towards the person who cooked dinner.” Natasha winks and Wanda outright laughs, tension and nerves dissipating slightly. She glances back over at Agatha, who’s grinning in amusement.

“I think I’m going to like this sibling dynamic,” she drawls, lighting up at Wanda’s giggle, before stepping closer to the kitchen and nodding at the redhead in the kitchen as she turns away from where she’s set the paprikash to cool. “Natasha, I presume?”

Natasha smiles and walks over, offering her hand. “That’s what I’ve been told, so I’m just running with it at this point. Agatha, right?”

“Who’s Agatha?” The older woman asks breezily, feigning confusion before grinning again, and Natasha laughs as they shake hands. Wanda feels herself relax considerably as the two older women (though Natasha would have her head for calling her “old” if she could hear Wanda’s thoughts) banter playfully back and forth. It turns out they're getting along famously, and Wanda can’t say she minds.

Half an hour later, the trio is sitting on Wanda’s little couch, some romcom or another is playing on the TV, and three warm plates of chicken paprikash are laid across three laps. Agatha is complimenting the dish, Natasha is eagerly answering questions about Eastern European cuisines, and Wanda is silently lamenting that she was seated (not by her own choice) in between her friend and her sister, instead of the edge of the couch. She’s taken exactly one microscopic bite, it’s amazing, this is one of her favorites when Natasha suggests it.

And yet, all she can think about is putting the food in a container for the fridge (she may not want to eat, but she’s not about to waste something Natasha made) and hiding in the bathroom until the paprikash is cleared away. She’s desperately fighting to remain calm, play it cool…she just wishes that actually worked for her. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

There’s a hand on her forearm, caressing her skin in tiny circles through her shirt’s fabric. Wanda dares to focus her eyes and look at Agatha, who’s watching her patiently. The older woman smiles softly at Wanda, who swallows harshly. “Yes?”

“You’re allowed to eat, Wanda, and you need to. It’s really good, but you already know that.” Agatha’s hand moves from Wanda’s forearm and gently brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, making the younger woman’s cheeks burn as she looks down at her plate. Her chest tightens at the sight of what she still has there - which is nearly everything, and the daunting task of finishing it seems insurmountable if not downright threatening.

“I’m not -”

“You’ve barely eaten today, detka,” Natasha murmurs, reaching to rub Wanda’s other arm soothingly. “You don’t have to finish it, but I think we’d both feel a lot better if you ate more than ant-size bites.”

I’m not getting out of this, she realizes with a pang in her chest, knowing what’s coming. I’m just going to eat it, I’m hungry and I love Tasha’s paprikash.

No, you’re fucking not, because you don’t deserve to.

She has to. So she does, slowly, one bite at a time, and actually finishes what’s on her plate. Once she’s about a third of the way through, Agatha and Natasha relax their watchful eyes, encouraging Wanda to also watch the movie with them. She does, for now, until all of the food is off her plate. The other two say nothing, too afraid of making Wanda uncomfortable, but they both reach out, Natasha squeezing a hand and Agatha squeezing a knee, both smiling slightly.

They’re proud.

Wanda’s nauseous.

She’s trying so hard not to make it obvious. She smiles too, trying to allow herself to relax and watch the movie, chuckling along at the right parts. 

Get rid of it.

She manages for about ten minutes.

“I’ll be right back, I’m just now realizing I don’t think I’ve been to the bathroom since, like, noon.” She stands, stretches, and starts to sidestep her way to the open space near the bathroom.

Natasha’s eyes widen. “How the hell did I not notice that? We’ve been together all day.”

“Because for a private investigator, you’re clueless as hell sometimes,” Wanda snarks, earning a wry grin from her sister. Agatha chuckles at the exchange, and Wanda opens and closes the bathroom door as she starts to ask Natasha about her job. With a shaking sigh, she turns the bathroom fan on - this apartment is shit, which fortunately means the fan is so loud that she’s 99% certain that nobody can hear anything in the bathroom.

When she’s forcibly removed what feels like everything she’s eaten for two days, she rinses her mouth out, washes her hands, and tries to make her return to the couch as nonchalant and casual as she can. Natasha seems to not notice, thankfully - she’s never been made aware of Wanda’s more extreme methods - but Wanda nervously realizes that Agatha’s peering at her intently, like she just knows. Surely, that’s not the case…but Wanda can’t be sure.

“You okay?” Agatha murmurs into her ear after Wanda has sat back down, and the redhead nods quickly and offers her a small smile.

“Yeah, I think I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

Agatha hums quietly, but doesn’t look convinced, though she does let it go. The trio settles back into the movie for its final act, and nothing more is said about it. Wanda tries to enjoy the evening, because it’s actually really nice, but she can’t let go of the nagging guilt over lying to both her sister and her friend.

Before long, it’s late, and the movie credits are rolling. Beside Wanda, Agatha stretches and stands, checking the time on her phone. “Well, I should probably get home so you two can shut down for the evening.”

Wanda is on her feet, trying to ignore the fuzz in the corners of her vision at the sudden movement. She smiles at Agatha, genuinely, though there’s an odd pang of sadness in her chest at the older woman leaving for the day. “Thank you for agreeing to come over!”

She almost doesn’t expect being pulled into a hug, though she ought to by now. Wanda rolls with it, snuggling in for a moment as Agatha responds, “Thank you for the invitation. The food was fantastic and it was good to see you this weekend. And it was great to meet Natasha,” and while Wanda can’t see them, she can sense Agatha and the older redhead exchanging grins. “If you still have a break between Lilia and your next class this week, you know where my office is, and I’m usually free during that time anyway.”

When they break apart, Wanda laughs at the surprise on Agatha’s face as Natasha offers a hug, too. When Agatha acquiesces, Natasha grins at Wanda over her shoulder and says, “I like this one. Not a bad friend choice. She’s one of us now, if she wants to be!”

“Can’t say I’m opposed,” Agatha replies as they separate, and Wanda grins.

When Agatha’s left the apartment, Natasha turns to Wanda with a smirk. “Ohhhhh, you do like her!”

“Shush, Natasha, we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks. And I’m a student, she doesn’t see me that way!” Wanda’s face is burning, but she’s grinning back. Natasha rolls her eyes and snickers.

“No? Then why was she flirting with you, milaya? She likes you too, but you two can take your time. It’ll take shape…especially once she’s met Kate and Lena.”

Wanda groans playfully, flopping back on the bed. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t!” Natasha chirps, still smirking, and sits down next to Wanda, hand resting on her knee. “I’m proud of you for how well you did tonight though, baby.”

Wanda smiles back, but still can’t ignore the pang of guilt over her lies.

Agatha:

Hi, this is Natasha, right?

Natasha:

Yes! Everything okay, Agatha?

Agatha:

In a manner of speaking. I’m just…mildly concerned about something I think happened tonight with Wanda.

Natasha:

I see…

Agatha:

You’re…aware of the food issues, I’m assuming.

Natasha:

Definitely. I don’t think she’s ever eaten normally since I’ve known her. Our parents and the twins’ caseworker had to work very closely with pediatrics, once she and P were permanently with us.

She was doing a lot better before he passed, though. She was finally somewhat normal, albeit very slender. But I know since then it’s been…a lot. I’m surprised she finished the entire plate tonight.

Agatha:

Yeah. That’s kind of what I was reaching out about. I don’t think it was that easy.

Natasha, I don’t think she’s always keeping the food down. I’m somewhat convinced I heard her in the bathroom. I think she’s purging, too. I’m not sure if she’s done that before.

I’m sorry if this is a lot, and if I’m wrong then I will be SO relieved. But I think my instincts may be correct, unfortunately.

Natasha:

I don’t know how I didn’t catch that…but it would make sense. :-/

Fuck. Guess that complicates things.

She’s never done it before, not that I’m aware of.

Should I talk to her about it?

Agatha:

I will on Tuesday, if she comes by the office. I don’t want it to come back on you negatively somehow, and I was the one who noticed.

I just wanted to give you the heads-up. You have every right to know.

Natasha:

I appreciate this. A lot. I’ll keep an eye on her tonight and tomorrow…I hate that I have to leave tomorrow afternoon. I’ve BEEN worried, but I can’t do much from Ohio.

Thank you for taking her under your wing and being there when I can’t. Or the others.

Agatha:

Of course. I just hope it helps.

Chapter Text

Agatha:

Hey, you. Want to do movie night this evening? You haven’t come to see me in the office for over a week, so I wasn’t sure if you were busy. Just let me know - I’ve missed hanging out with you. Would love to see you tonight :)

-

Wanda swallows, trying to push down the flutter in her chest and the twist of guilt in her belly. It’s been three weeks since Natasha’s visit, and since her big sister got on a plane back to Ohio, Wanda has done nothing but struggle and fail. She barely sleeps well, even when she feels like she could; nightmares haunt her unconscious mind. Flashbacks and crippling guilt put a damper on her days. Even as the weather goes back and forth between true winter and the hope of spring, long sleeves persist - even if Wanda did eat regularly, the evidence of her deep-seated self-loathing shows bright red and angry on her skin. She’s not drinking as much, thankfully; she’s realized that it doesn’t numb her anymore, but the other coping skills persist.

She had gone to Agatha’s office a couple of times in the week after Natasha went home, but she can’t seem to pull herself out of her mind to go back. She hasn’t meant to ghost Agatha like this - okay, maybe it’s a little intentional, but it’s been a difficult time period. She’s intentionally picked up a few extra shifts at the bookstore, and she’s thrown herself into writing papers and choreographing dances for a class. But she managed to juggle this before…so she’s only lying to herself, because the truth hurts. She can’t fight the sick-to-her-stomach feeling that comes when she imagines Agatha seeing her at her worst like this. And while Agatha has been so incredibly patient and helpful, Wanda can’t reconcile their friendship with the idea of anyone helping her break the chains she’s trapped by in her mind. 

She’s not sure she can break those chains, to be completely frank. And the running narrative in her mind, the nightmares, the memories that constantly pierce her soul like an athame to the heart…they all tell her she’s undeserving of peace. Undeserving of freedom.

Undeserving of love.

So yes, she’s been avoiding Agatha. In fairness, Agatha hasn’t been the only target - her replies to Natasha are cheerful but aloof, and if Natasha tries to push through, she comes up with an excuse to not check her phone. If Yelena or Kate texts her, Wanda is friendly and happy, never intentionally giving them a reason to suspect she’s lying.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, her lower lip goes between her teeth as she worries. She’s off work tonight - she’s pulled so many extra shifts that Carol, her manager, is forcing her to take the weekend off and go back to her regular schedule starting Tuesday. Should she say yes? Can she manage Friday movie night without fucking it up and letting Agatha in on how bad it’s been? Should she even try?

Wanda:

Sorry! Been super busy - half of my professors decided we had papers due this week. I’m not completely sure whether I’ll have the energy to leave the apartment super late :(

-

She hates herself for lying, although it’s more of a half-truth given how busy she’s kept herself. Honestly, she misses hanging out with Agatha.

A reply comes through after a moment, and Wanda opens it nervously.

Agatha:

Let me lay out terms first before you decline, superstar.

-I’ll make the soup, because I know you like it and it’s supposed to be cold as hell tonight

-I have something for you

-You get to pick the movie

-If it comes to it, I have a very comfortable guest bed :)

Your call, dear. I don’t want to be pushy, it’s just been more boring without you.

-

Despite herself, Wanda laughs out loud at the last message, until her brain registers Agatha’s second bullet point. She feels her eyebrows crease together, and tilts her head to the side as she types a response.

Wanda:

Why do you “have something” for me? My birthday isn’t for ages, and I don’t even do my birthday.

Also, I don’t feel like I could bring myself to impose myself in your home if I got too tired…but if you insist, I’ll be there for a bit. What time?

Agatha:

Well, what time are you off? Store closes at 8:30, doesn’t it?

Wanda:

Oh! Um…my manager’s kind of forcing me to take the weekend off. She said I’ve pulled too many extra shifts lately. So I’m already at home.

Agatha:

Be here at 6:30? Soup should be done not long after - we can eat during the movie, if it’ll help.

As Wanda walks up the couple of small concrete steps to Agatha’s tall front door, she shivers violently. Agatha wasn’t kidding about tonight being cold as hell. Wanda pulls her hoodie tighter around herself, pulling her shirtsleeves out from under her hoodie, gripping the hems between her fingers. The streetlights are the brightest items on the street right now - it’s cold, it’s 6:30 in February, and the clouds in the sky are dark again with the threat of freezing rain. Wanda may love overcast days, but this level of cold is a little unbearable.

She doesn’t even have to knock; Agatha must have seen her come up the steps via the doorbell camera, and the door swings open just as Wanda is about to raise her hand. The older brunette stands in the doorway, looking unfairly comfortable in a deep violet sweatshirt and thick joggers, feet clad in thick socks and slippers. Agatha takes one look at the frail, wide-eyed redhead in skinny jeans, sneakers, a sweater and a hoodie, and Wanda’s being pulled inside, the door shut tightly behind her.

“Wanda, why do you not have a real coat and thicker bottoms on? You feel like an icicle, you’re going to catch your death outside! Come on, come sit down,” and Wanda is being led to the living room from the entry. She perches delicately on the edge of the couch, feeling awkward about being fussed over, and Agatha glares at her for a moment. “Get comfortable, toots. You’re underweight and extremely underdressed for the weather. Shoes off, snuggle in. The soup will be ready in ten minutes, according to the crockpot timer anyway.”

“Oh, I’m actually not hungry, I just -”

“Wanda.” Agatha raises an eyebrow, refusing to let go of the redhead’s gaze from her own fierce one. “I have barely seen you since your sister went home. Don’t bullshit me, we both know you haven’t eaten. I made something you like. I like it too, but that’s not the point. I made dinner, something you’ve enjoyed before, because I care about you.”

“But I ate a late lunch,” Wanda protests, but the lie is flimsy and she knows damn well Agatha knows she’s lying. She breaks eye contact, eyeing her clasped hands - still red and icy and numb from being outside. They’re usually not so cold for this long.

That’s because you hadn’t killed your brother, back when they weren’t this cold. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, Maximoff. For two weeks. I know you’ve been busy, but Lilia says you’ve been quieter in class, too.”

“Traitor,” grumbles Wanda, but Agatha shoots her a look and she quiets nervously.

“Lilia’s one of my best friends, darling, and she knows I consider you a friend too. That isn’t the point. You,” and she sits beside Wanda, taking her icy hands between Agatha’s warm ones and gently rubbing them to warm them, “do not get to tell me you’ve been fine if you’ve avoided me for over a week and aren’t giving Natasha substantial answers when she reaches out. I just want you to eat something, and I want to spend time with you.”

Wanda sighs, meeting those blue eyes again. “Okay. I’ll try, at least so you feel better about it.”

“And I want you to keep the food down, even if that means you sleep in the guest bed so I know you’re not throwing up at your apartment. Your body needs a break.”

“W-what?” Wanda stammers, not about the rest but about the first part, and this time Agatha sighs, stopping the motions she’s doing on Wanda’s hands to warm them.

“Sweetheart, your sister may not totally know all of the tricks, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. That night at your apartment…I heard you.” Agatha’s voice is cautious, low and soft, not as if angry but more like she’s intensely concerned. But her words still hit Wanda like a punch in the gut.

“So…you knew. You’ve known since.”

“I suspected,” Agatha corrects, “but I hate being right.”

“Bullshit, you love being right,” Wanda grumbles, and Agatha elbows her good-naturedly before growing serious again.

“Not about this, sweetheart. Look, I know we haven’t known each other super long, but I kind of like being around you. I don’t usually go out of my way to make friends. You’re not replaceable in this person’s life.” Agatha is quiet now, almost sorrowful, but not about her words. It almost seems as if she’s upset because she feels…

Helpless. 

Helpless to save someone she cares deeply about.

Though, she shouldn’t.

Why would she care so much as to help you? You’re a plague.

“How did you know I haven’t been telling Natasha anything?” It’s flat, the tone of the question Wanda’s asking, and it makes Agatha tilt her head as they watch each other.

“Darling, do you really think Natasha and I wouldn’t have exchanged numbers while you were occupied? She’s been asking me if I’ve spoken to you, said you were being evasive.” She reaches out and cups Wanda’s cheek with her hand, lightly running her thumb across the bone there. “We just want you to be safe, whether that’s from ill-intended people or the violence going on in that head of yours.”

“I’ve been doing okay,” Wanda insists, weakly trying to cover her ass. The shame of it all makes her want to pull away from Agatha’s hands, to curl up in the corner of the couch and end the conversation. And yet, she leans into the touch on her cheek, though she lowers her gaze to her own hands, twisting her rings around her fingers. “I’ve just been really busy.”

Agatha hums quietly, stroking Wanda’s cheekbone with her thumb again before withdrawing her hand and grasping Wanda’s. “I’ll let the last couple weeks go, for now. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to seem like I was inviting you over just to jump on you like this - I’m just worried, and I actually did miss you, and I hope you understand. Just…please work with me tonight. Okay?”

Wanda meets the other woman’s gaze again, slowly, and nods. Before Agatha can fully stand, Wanda catches her by the wrist, glancing up at the woman pleadingly before looking away again. “Um…thank you. For being here. For letting me be here, I guess. I know I’m not, like, super easy to get along with a lot of the time. I just…I can’t explain it yet. The words won’t come out.”

Agatha’s eyes soften more, and she pulls Wanda to standing and into a careful hug. “That’s okay. You don’t have to tell it all right now, honey. We can just be here, have good conversations, spend time together and forget about shit for a little while. I just want you to be in a good place too, and if I can provide that now and then, I’m doing something right.”

Cheek pressed against the other woman’s shoulder, Wanda smiles faintly. Her mind is oddly quiet right now - which feels good. It’s a rare peace.

The crockpot chooses this exact second to beep, signaling the completion of the cook cycle. As Agatha breaks from the hug, she looks down at Wanda and grins. “Go pick a movie. I’ll get the bowls.”

She turns to walk to the kitchen, but Wanda calls after her. “Hey, Agatha? I promise I’m going to try my best…but can you not give me a super full bowl, please? I don’t want to sound ungrateful or be an ass, I just -”

“Doll, as little as you’ve eaten lately, I’d be an idiot to get you a full bowl. I just want something on your stomach. I’ll be right back, just relax.” As a sudden afterthought, she adds, “And grab your blanket, you know where it is.”

In hindsight, maybe they are super into each other, Wanda thinks, considering she now has “a blanket” at Agatha’s house after one visit. This privilege seems to extend to present Wanda the chance at consistency in her comfort in the older woman’s home - something, Wanda realizes with a pang, Agatha likely knows she’s never had much of. At least, not for very long.

The longest she’s ever had it be consistent, positive, was…living with the Shostakovs. And the thought makes her long to be around Natasha’s cheeky smirk, Yelena’s fiery spirit, Alexei’s affable, emotional, sentimental spirit…Melina’s ability to look at Wanda and just know what would help. Something nobody but Pietro and Mama ever had before. In spite of it all, Wanda misses feeling like she’s home.

But Agatha’s observations, in spite of the softness in her spirit that she seems to save almost exclusively for times like this, are usually dead-on. The woman misses nothing, almost, and Wanda would be lying if she said that this little offering from Agatha didn’t make her feel as if being here is like being home. The thought sparks something warm and safe in her, something she thought she didn’t know how to feel anymore.

And the noise in her head is quiet again. How odd. But it’s a welcome change from the screaming, the guilt, the flashbacks.

When Wanda pulls her blanket out of the storage space in the coffee table, there’s a small, slim gray box sitting on top of it. With intrigue, she grabs it as well, kicking her shoes off and pulling her blanket around herself as she regards the box. With perfect timing, Agatha saunters back in, two steaming bowls in her hands. Her face breaks out in a small smile, and she steps in to close the coffee table’s top and place the bowls on it. “Good, you found what I got you.”

“Agatha, you really didn’t -”

Agatha holds up a hand, grinning as she sits down. “Just open it. It’s not that major. Just something I thought would come in handy, in a way. Go ahead, superstar.”

Wanda bites her lip and looks down at the box, tracing her finger along the textured edges before lifting the top half off. She’s not sure what she would have expected, but a thin bracelet with several black, shining rounded crystals was not it. Her eyes scan the bracelet, breath caught in her throat. 

It’s simple, not incredibly fancy. It’s clearly not for show. It’s Agatha expressing fondness in one of the ways she knows best - giving rather subtle gifts.

Wanda loves it.

“What are they?” she breathes, running her finger along the stones. “They’re all a little different, so I’m assuming it’s not the same stone.”

“Good observations, sweetheart. I’m glad you asked.” In her peripheral vision, she can see Agatha grinning broadly, and a flutter interrupts her heartbeat. The older woman reaches over, gently wrestles the bracelet out of the protective piece in the box, and starts tapping each stone delicately. “This one is black obsidian, that’s silver sheen obsidian, the more earthy-looking one here is hematite, and this one is black tourmaline. Know what they have in common?”

“They’re almost all black?” Wanda quips, knowing damn well that it’s not the right answer. Agatha cackles, eyes sparkling as Wanda meets them again.

“Yes, but that’s not exactly what I meant. They all are used for some element of protection.” Agatha’s eyebrows crease, offering a halfway-teasing grin too as she reaches to hand the bracelet back to Wanda. “If you’re going to avoid me some days, or actually be too busy, I want you to feel safe and be somewhat shielded from the negativity of the shit going on around you.”

They’re protection crystals. Agatha is trying to keep her safe.

Agatha actually cares about me that much? I’m not that special…why would someone do this for me?

“Whatever your head is telling you, if it’s bad, it isn’t real.” Agatha reaches out and brushes hair away from Wanda’s face again, and the redhead feels her cheeks warm as she looks down at the bracelet with a little smile.

“No, I just…I don’t know what to say. I don’t deserve to be cared for like this, but… Thank you.” Wanda inhales, a little shaky, and she maneuvers her hand to slip the bracelet on her wrist. She struggles just a little - the black cord is stretchy, but not too stretchy. In her fumbling, she doesn’t notice Agatha reaching out again until her hand has taken the bracelet away and stretched it slightly, holding it out to slip it over Wanda’s hand. To her own internal embarrassment, the spark that courses through her veins at Agatha’s fingertips brushing her skin again makes her shudder a little. Agatha says nothing, but Wanda spots the faintest hint of a knowing smirk on those sharp features, and her stomach flips. The older woman’s fingertips linger against Wanda’s wrist for a moment, before pulling back.

“You do deserve to be cared for, Wanda. Nothing you’ve done, nothing you’ve seen, nothing you’ve survived takes that away from you.” Let me take care of you, Agatha doesn’t say, but it may as well be spelled out. Wanda wills herself to make eye contact, again, and smiles softly at her friend.

“Thank you,” she whispers, still deeply touched by the gesture, the love this woman offers. “I’m probably not taking this off. Not unless I’m in water, anyway.”

“Good girl,” Agatha wrinkles her nose playfully, then outright laughs at Wanda turning a deep shade of pink and looking down again. “Ah, my bad, I forgot you get flustered when praised.”

“I do not!” protests Wanda feebly, but she’s smiling sheepishly and staring at the bracelet, which guarantees that Agatha knows she’s just trying to cover herself.

“You’re kind of cute when you blush,” Agatha teases, but turns toward the TV. “Now, did you pick a movie?”

“I didn’t have time,” Wanda laments, though she’s still smiling. “Can we go for comedy?”

“You got it,” and somehow, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy gets chosen without much further ado. Between the film itself and Agatha’s commentary, Wanda is so entertained that she’s barely thinking about the soup as it passes her lips. By the time she thinks to look at the bowl again, it’s empty.

A wave of relief passes through her mind, followed almost immediately by a flash of Pietro’s vacant eyes and the lingering sound of gunfire. Her stomach twists.

You inconsiderate fucking monster.

Agatha’s voice has faded into background hum now, as has the movie, and it’s like all Wanda can hear is her erratic, frantic heartbeat and the blood rushing through her body.

She’s alive.

Pietro’s dead. Mama’s dead. Papa’s dead.

She wants her family.

You can’t have them if you try to stay.

She has to get rid of it. She just wants to be with them. She wants her parents, her brother, the life of peace they were denied.

She doesn’t realize she’s stood up, throwing off her blanket, doesn’t realize she’s automatically started to beeline to the hallway, until Agatha is standing directly in front of her. The older woman has a grip on both of Wanda’s hands, and is blocking her path. The expression in her face isn’t angry, isn’t annoyed, isn’t even scared - she’s startlingly calm.

“You don’t have to do this, Wanda.”

“Do - do what?” Wanda croaks, heart hammering in her chest. Agatha just smiles sadly at her, stepping a little bit closer and squeezing Wanda’s hands gently.

“You know what I’m talking about, honey. You don’t have to do this. You deserve to be here, you deserve to take care of your body and stay alive. You are wanted here. Please come sit down. I can find a way to distract you until the thought passes, if you need it.” Agatha’s eyes are sincere, careful, like she’s afraid she’ll say something wrong and push the younger woman over the edge. 

Go around her and get rid of it.

She doesn’t want to, surprisingly, even if the urge is heavily present.

Wanda’s lips quiver, outside of her control, and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around Agatha voluntarily and burying her face in the older woman’s shirt. Agatha doesn’t hesitate before her arms are around Wanda too, and the redhead could almost swear she feels the other woman’s shoulders relax.

When they’re back on the couch, Agatha moves so quickly that Wanda’s briefly convinced the older woman actually is magical. She drops a slightly thinner throw pillow into her own lap and gives a soft tug to Wanda’s hand, pulling the girl to lay her head on the throw pillow. Wanda lets out a tiny yelp of surprise, then flushes and bites back a shy grin. “What are you doing?”

“Whether you’ll admit it or not, you’re a little touch-starved,” Agatha hums matter-of-factly, resting one hand on Wanda’s shoulder. The other moves to play absentmindedly with the girl’s dark mess of hair, and Agatha’s eyes have returned to the TV. “You’re afraid of connection, but you still crave it from the people you do trust. It wouldn’t be right of me to ignore that. You also haven’t been sleeping, so I know you’re exhausted. Thought this might help, honey.”

Wanda doesn’t respond right away. When she does, it’s soft, uncertain. “It…actually is helping. But I might need to cash in on that distraction, still. Can I ask you something?”

Agatha says nothing, but gives a short nod. With a nervous breath, Wanda speaks again.

“Can you tell me about Nicky? And Rio?”

Agatha doesn’t stiffen, doesn’t remove her hands, barely flinches. Wanda almost wouldn’t expect the question to have affected the older woman at all, be it not for the brief second her fingers stopped their ministrations through auburn strands and her lips tightened into a thinner line. But the moment is there, and it makes Wanda immediately second guess. “You totally don’t have to answer, we can talk about something else or just watch the -”

“Wanda.” Agatha’s voice is low, her eyes piercing yet a little somber as they gaze down at the younger woman, whose eyebrows crease as she stares back for a moment. Agatha smiles sadly at her. “It’s okay. I’m not upset, and I’m not opposed to talking about them. I just…wasn’t expecting the question, that’s all.”

Her eyes take on somewhat of a faraway look as she starts speaking, but Wanda hangs on every word. “Nicky was…adventurous, for being a more sickly child. He was usually such a happy kiddo, always wanted somebody to play with him, but could play alone without much trouble. He loved entertaining us - he always made up new songs, and he had the sweetest voice. He loved to make people smile. He hated it when we worried about him. He just…enjoyed life, while he was here. He never let the seizures break his spirit. He was…extra cuddly and loving, and quiet, the night of his death.”

“Do you think he knew?” Wanda wants to smack her own forehead for asking that fucking question, of all of them, but Agatha just smiles again right before Wanda looks at the TV (she’s not even watching the movie, but the depth in Agatha’s eyes is too much right now).

“I do, actually. I don’t think he understood, but I think he knew. But Rio never could stop feeling the guilt, and she couldn’t make herself feel any better. No matter what I did or said. I had to watch her sink further into the suffering she went through after he was gone. It…sucked. A lot, to put it mildly. She was always the bright, quirky, playful one of the two of us. She was Nicky’s go-to play buddy, never afraid to get on the floor and be a horse, or a pirate, or whatever he asked.”

Agatha’s hands move again, one continuing to stroke Wanda’s hair at her temple while the other buries itself into the hair at the base of her neck, carding through it as well. Wanda sighs, the added contact relaxing her more than she realizes. “Rio was…an enigma. A little wild, always up to something, always wanting to do something spontaneous and fun. We met early in college. Very creative, but also very good with analytics and numbers and all that. She loved us with everything she had in her, and I think that’s a huge part of what made it so much harder when Nicky was gone.”

Agatha’s voice has remained steady, but it cracks just a little as she drops to a near-whisper. “I used to be so fucking angry at the universe, at whatever deities I could think of, for taking them away from me. I still miss them, every day…but it’s gotten easier, over time. Or I’ve gotten stronger. I can’t say for certain. But I’ve never believed that they’re truly gone - they might be, but the energy is still there, and I see them in everything now. In everything they loved.”

Wanda feels her lips tremble again, and she turns her head to look up at her friend. She keeps her voice quiet, but sincere. “I’m glad you had the time with them that you did. They made you who you are now.”

“A mess?” Agatha jokes, even though her eyes are watery, and Wanda smiles softly at her.

“No,” she whispers, reaching up to squeeze the hand at her temple. “They made you pretty cool, if you ask me. Definitely someone I’m glad I literally ran into.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re in a rather…compromising position at present,” Agatha mutters, making Wanda giggle.

“You put me here!”

Agatha smiles back at her, expression fond as she continues running her fingers through Wanda’s hair. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way right now, doll. I think they would have liked you.”

Wanda feels her eyes well up too, and she scrunches her nose in appreciation before turning her gaze back to the TV. Her earlier episode is, shockingly, somewhat forgotten, and it doesn’t take long before her eyelids begin to feel like they’re made of lead. She wills them back open every time she blinks, but the resistance is proving embarrassingly futile. Weeks of terrible sleep are finally weighing on her, though she is reluctant to answer the call for rest…mostly due to not wanting to end the evening.

The hand near her temple slows its movements, slightly deepening the pressure as well and eliciting a quiet hum from the redhead. Agatha exhales and smiles down at her - Wanda hasn’t moved, but she can almost hear the facial expression. “Wanda, it’s okay. If I need to wake you up to get you to the guest room, I will, but if you’re tired then stop fighting it. I’m here. I’m not sending you home like this, and I’ll be here when you wake up. Let yourself rest.”

Wanda’s too tired to argue, and for once, she doesn’t immediately fall into a nightmare.

Chapter Text

When Agatha wakes, the sun hasn’t even begun to rise. How irritating. Why is she awake?

A quiet, choking sob cuts through the darkness, muffled but obvious. It’s not in the room - it’s across the hall. It’s followed by the sounds of restless mumbling - no footsteps, but the rustling of blankets. Wanda.

Agatha’s irritability fades, almost immediately. Wanda is, most likely, having a nightmare. And here they’d hoped she wouldn’t. With a sigh, Agatha clicks her bedside lamp on and swings her legs out of the bed, blinking a few times to really steady herself. She wouldn’t be getting up, but it’s Wanda. And if her nightmares are anything like Agatha’s own…

She doesn’t need to be alone when she wakes up.

Agatha has carried her share of vices in her thirty-four years. If it hadn’t been for Lilia’s interference and, at her suggestion, a few years learning better coping skills in Dr. Rebecca Kaplan’s office? Agatha doesn’t want to think about where she’d be. She’d have joined her wife, certainly, and their baby boy, but would it have been worth it to give up so soon?

She gives her head a little shake, clearing her mind of the fog that comes with remembering the months after Rio’s funeral - opioids and hard liquor, isolation, dangerous behaviors, the nights spent seriously considering just giving up. Rio had been her crutch, her saving grace coming into college as a newly orphaned nineteen-year-old whose now-dead mother hated her for her sexuality to begin with. Without her constant, steady but fiery presence, Agatha had nothing to shield her from her past.

She can’t lose Wanda too. She can’t understand the depth of the connection she feels to the younger woman, but it’s there. Maybe it’s seeing a variant of her own spiral play out before her eyes. Maybe it’s seeing Rio’s spiral, before her body had decided it had enough. Maybe it’s fate, in some fucked-up way, reminding Agatha that she can still love people.

Whatever it is, she has to help.

As she nears the guest room door, the crying and dread-filled mumbling grows louder. She isn’t sure whether Wanda will stay in some half-asleep fight or flight state when Agatha enters the room, so she’s intentionally quiet as she opens the door. With what little light she has coming from the hallway and her own bedroom, she can see the room quite well.

The deep navy sheets and bedspread are tangled up on the bed, and in the middle of the mess is Wanda - who has very clearly not been still since the nightmare started. Her hair is spread all over the pillow, sweat-soaked and sticky, and she’s clutching the other pillow for dear life. Her legs are somewhere in the mess of blankets - Agatha can see the faintest scrap of deep violet fleece poking out, no doubt from the sleep pants she’d made Wanda wake up just long enough to change into.

She hadn’t initially intended to wake the younger woman up. When the movie had ended, Agatha had, with some degree of awkwardness, maneuvered a sleeping Wanda into a hold not unlike carrying a sleeping child. Carrying her to the guest room had been entirely too easy - in fact, it had made Agatha rather nervous, not because of carrying a grown young woman, but because Wanda is light. It’s been a long time now, but carrying Wanda hadn’t been too unlike carrying Nicky to bed when he fell asleep. But when they’d reached the guest room, Agatha had realized that she was not about to let the younger woman sleep in day clothes, not to mention even with the heater blasting it’s still a little cold in the house. Yet, given the circumstances, she was deeply uncomfortable with the very idea of changing Wanda’s clothes while she slept. So she’d woken the younger woman up, just briefly, to hand her pajamas.

She’d hoped comfort would keep the dreams at bay. She hates being wrong.

“No…please…I can be better…I’m sorry…no, please don’t!” Wanda lets out in a broken cry, burying her face into the pillow she’s holding and wailing helplessly. Agatha’s hesitation over the possibility of crossing lines crumbles like a sandcastle under crashing waves. She hastens to the empty side of the bed and gingerly perches herself on it, reaching out to place a hand on Wanda’s arm.

“Wanda. You’re not there. You’re here. You’re safe. Come on, sweetheart, wake up for me.”

The redhead startles, wrenching her body away from Agatha’s, but she’s still asleep and shivering violently, her sobs growing louder. “No…no…please…I can be good, I promise I can be good!” 

Okay, one hand isn’t going to work. Without any additional hesitation, propriety be damned, Agatha repositions to actually lie down beside Wanda, catching the young woman by the shoulders and gently tugging her into an embrace that’s both firm and soothing all at once. To her surprise, there’s little to no resistance. “You’re dreaming, Wanda. It’s okay. You’re not in that place anymore. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

With a shaking, stuttering breath, Wanda finally seems to cross from sleep to consciousness, and she sniffles. Agatha pulls back slightly, just enough to meet the younger woman’s glassy expression. Wanda’s eyes search hers, straining just a little in the darkness, before her lips tremble and she looks away. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I didn’t mean to.”

Agatha huffs, just one short breath. She brings a hand back around to catch Wanda’s chin, bringing her back to the eye contact she’s reluctant about, and Agatha lets her voice stay low, firm. “Why are you apologizing? You can’t control the nightmares right now, honey. I don’t know what that was about, but it wasn’t pretty. I’d be cruel as fuck to leave you like that.”

Wanda nods, looks like she wants to say more, but doesn’t. Instead, she snuggles back into Agatha’s front, and the older woman tries not to let it make her chest flutter. She allows one hand to pass through the younger woman’s hair, pulling her in closer by just a hair. After a long pause -

“I’m usually alone when I wake up from a nightmare…which means I usually deal with the aftermath on my own, in the only ways I know how. I’m not used to this, and my mind keeps trying to tell me that I need to handle this the way I always do. Is that bad?” Wanda’s admission is bashful, ashamed almost, and Agatha picks up on the faintest tremor returning. A faint sigh escapes her lips before she can answer right away.

“It’s what you’re used to, angel. Doesn’t seem like it would help you much, doing it all on your own. But how do you normally handle it?”

Wanda immediately freezes, and Agatha can feel her back stiffen. She slows the strokes on Wanda’s back, deepening the pressure just slightly and trying to coax calmness. “I’m assuming this is another coping skill that’s less-than-safe. Am I correct?” 

Another pause, then Wanda’s shoulders sag. A resigned sigh emits from the redhead, and she pulls back with a grim half-smile. “I’m - I’m not going to get to go back to sleep without telling you, am I?”

“Don’t lie to me, darling, we both know you wouldn’t be going back to sleep after that. Some nightmares are too horrific to just go back to sleep afterwards - and yours seemed to be one of those.” Agatha shifts, scooting down until she’s at eye level with Wanda, feeling the faintest anxiety rearing its head at the idea of whatever the hell Wanda’s about to say. “I’d rather we talk about this, Wanda. I don’t want you to hurt yourself more when your mind has been tormenting you for half the night. And given the glaringly obvious, I think it’s safe to say your other mechanisms are nearly as dangerous.”

Wanda seems to shrink rapidly in this exact moment, eyes glossing over even in the darkness, and lets out a breath. “Can we talk about it in the morning? I promise I’m not trying to evade answering, but I just…if you’re here, I’d rather just try to be here with you until I fall asleep again. I promise I’ll talk in the morning.”

The sinking feeling in Agatha’s gut overwhelms her for a moment - how could she have pushed so much in the middle of the night? - and she’s quick to acquiesce and apologize. “That’s okay, honey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Let’s get you back to sleep and we’ll talk in the morning.” She pauses, watching Wanda’s expression. “Do…do you really want me to stay?”

Wanda doesn’t answer vocally, but the quick violent nod and sudden presence wrapped around Agatha’s waist are answer enough. Agatha smiles to herself, secretive with her joy over the affection, and buries her face in red hair, letting the slight weight and warmth from the women in her arms lull her back to sleep.

(It helps that Wanda makes super cute little contented sighs when she’s settling in and letting herself relax into sleep.)

If this ever went beyond friendship, I could get used to it. Even so, I’m not going to complain.

When Agatha opens her eyes, sunlight peeking through the curtains, Wanda isn’t lying down anymore. She’s not even on the bed, and her space is cold. Over the edge, Agatha spots a streak of red hair, and as she props up on her elbow, she sees the top of Wanda’s head.

Agatha sits up fully, moving cautiously. Wanda is seated with her back against the bed, head drooping. It briefly occurs to Agatha that the younger woman could be asleep - but she shifts, and her head turns. Her wide, beautiful eyes are too bright, as if she’s been fighting tears for a good several moments. She offers a weak, unconvincing smile to Agatha before speaking in a low voice. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Agatha feels her heart constrict. Something is absolutely wrong here, and she fully hopes she can know what it actually is so her sweet girl isn’t suffering alone.

Hmm. “Her girl.” Not a terrible ring to it - it sounds so promising. Even if it never comes, Agatha enjoys this woman as a whole, even after only a good month or so…all of her broken pieces and how she’s arranged them to make them shine. The suffering behind her eyes is too familiar to Agatha, but not in the same sense. 

Agatha’s got her own broken pieces she’s spent two decades collaging. She’s just missing one more chance to weld in a new part. And whether it’s platonic or not, she hopes this is her shot. But not before she can help Wanda find some hope.

Agatha is on the floor now, perching herself next to Wanda and nudging her shoulder. “I wish you had woken me up, if we’re being honest - why so glum, angel?”

Wanda looks at her phone, almost like she’s going to lock it, but freezes. It’s just enough time for Agatha to glimpse what’s on the screen. It’s a news article - dated yesterday.

-

CINCINNATI YOUTH PASTOR EVADES CAPTURE, QUESTIONING FOR ALLEGED SEXUAL ABUSE OF MULTIPLE FEMALE STUDENTS, ATTEMPTED MURDER OF 1

Victor Domashev, 45 -

-

Wanda clicks the screen to lock rapidly now, setting her phone aside slowly. She grips her own wrists over her sleeves, locking her arms around her knees, retreating to her shell. Agatha’s heart sinks.

“Wanda, what was that? Who is he? And why…why do you…”

“You know,” Wanda whispers, her voice cracking with the strain of feigned, stuttering calmness. “It’s always ‘alleged.’ They never believe you until the perp confesses, and even then, sometimes they think he’s justified.”

Her eyes glaze over, and she stares blankly ahead of her knees, truly in a tired whisper. “They’d never have believed me.”

Understanding and dread fill Agatha’s being all at once, and she blinks back an unexpected wave of tears. Her hands find Wanda’s back, and her arm. “They’ll catch him, sweetheart. Unhinged, desperate men on the run from accountability tend to slip up and show themselves. Was he…you…”

Wanda’s head jerks slightly, eyes barely looking at Agatha before her gaze lowers again. “Yeah. I was trying to process this news before I had to start the day today. Twelve was a hell of a year. And now…he’s loose. On the run. I - I was afraid to tell anyone. He told me they’d take me and leave Pietro behind, and that he’d had some revelation that I was put in that situation, with shitty Bible-thumping spare-the-rod foster parents, by God himself for his enjoyment. He hated Pietro - he always protected me, even if he couldn’t every time, and Victor was jealous of how close I was to my brother. We finally ran away from that foster home, and a couple of short-term placements later, we were with Alexei and Melina.”

“Did you ever tell anyone?” Agatha asks quietly, unable to tear her gaze from the weary eyes in front of her. Her stomach roils at the implications, rage and disgust directed at the asshole who played such a huge role in stealing the light from this girl's eyes, but she compartmentalizes it for later. Meanwhile, Wanda sighs, dejectedly letting her shoulders sag.

“Not exactly. I - I never gave a name, and I never said it directly. But Natasha asked me, when I was sixteen, if something like this had ever happened. I didn’t answer at the time, but she told me that my silence gave her the answer she needed. Pietro knew, though - I didn’t tell him, but he figured it out one evening, a few days before we ran away. The last time it happened…the worst time.”

She takes a shuddering breath, her eyes filling with tears and heavy with guilt. “They could have caught him, Agatha, years ago when it happened to me, if I had just fucking said something. I was terrified. He told me I would lose Pietro if I said anything. I didn’t want to lose anyone else. Nobody else would have gotten hurt, and he wouldn’t be loose and trying to flee, and who knows whether I’m on his list of former fucking haunts to revisit. I doubt I was the first, but he wasn’t my last. And now I have to live with this.”   Without another word, the first tears fall and she curls into herself reflexively.

Agatha’s mouth opens, then closes. She says nothing. Just gathers Wanda into her arms, and murmurs that it’s not her fault (she knows Wanda doesn’t believe her, because that would require her to conclude that the things that have happened to her are not her fault, and this girl has more survivor’s guilt than anyone she’s met). Agatha rests her chin on the top of Wanda's head, and stays wrapped around her as she finally breaks down.

After a few minutes of sobbing, Wanda pulls away slightly, trying to sniffle away the rest of her tears, and looks up at Agatha with a crease in her brow. “Since I’m already fucking falling apart, I guess I should show you what we talked about last night, shouldn’t I?”

“You’re not going to argue about it?” Agatha asks softly, then bites the inside of her cheek at the brashness of her words. To her pleasant surprise, Wanda chuckles darkly behind slow tears. 

“No point, you’d just ask Nat, and Nat hasn’t even seen how bad it is these days. She doesn’t even ask because I won’t show her and she won’t force it. I haven’t today, but this has made me think about it - I’ve been fighting it since my phone alerted me.”

With a trembling sigh, she pushes her long sleeves up, staring at her own hands. A peek over her shoulder makes Agatha’s throat tighten, and her eyes water. Wanda’s forearms are… littered with scars, cuts, scratches, in various stages of healing. Holy fuck.

“When was the last time?” The words feel heavy on her tongue, and she hates it.

“Almost a week ago. I…it was just a really bad day,” and Wanda’s eyes go back to staring blankly at the wall.

“When did it start?” Agatha prods, keeping a hand on Wanda’s back and rubbing slow circles. The woman leans into the touch unconsciously, her head nestling back into the space under Agatha’s chin. She’s shaking, Agatha realizes with a pang, and she applies the faintest amount of grounding pressure with her hands. It seems to work, thankfully, and the tremors begin to subside.

“I was…twelve, I think, the first time. I tried to stop on my own at thirteen, Pietro had found out and was watching me, but when he stopped paying as much attention, it started again and kept going until I was fifteen. I’ve gone longer times without, whole two or three year spans of time actually. When I’d slip up, it was only once or twice, then I wouldn’t do it again for months or years. I hadn’t even really thought as much about it since my first week at NYU. I was doing so much better.”

“I’m assuming what happened over Christmas break was your new tipping point,” Agatha suggests in a low murmur, and Wanda nods, almost robotically. “Do you think you could stop again?”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do anything without Pietro…sometimes I’m not sure I want to.” The words are so soft, so quiet that Agatha knows they’re hard to say and painfully honest. Wanda isn’t being defensive, which is shocking, but Agatha supposes that being awakened to gut-wrenching news about people from a traumatic past would do that to a person - weaken their walls, so to speak.

She’s going to help Wanda. She has to. Somehow.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. We can take this a day at a time. In the meantime…let’s get something in your system, your phone says it’s 9:30 and I’m hungry. Original Addams Family and breakfast smoothies?” Agatha pulls back just enough to bat her eyelashes, and Wanda’s sorrow seems momentarily dampened as she smiles shyly back.

“That sounds like it could be nice…I don’t know about the breakfast part, but I’ll do my best.”

Agatha:

Hey. Do you have any idea when Kate and Yelena’s spring break is?

Natasha: 

I think so, but there's an easier way to find out for sure.

-Natasha created a group chat: Natasha, Agatha, Yelena, Kate-

Natasha:

Lena, Katie, the other number in this chat is Agatha - Wanda’s friend. Behave your damn selves.

When is spring break for you two?

Yelena:

several things to say here, сестра!

for one thing, I’m ALWAYS well-behaved. it is YOU who makes trouble ;)

also, hi Agatha!

and…spring break for us starts after the 14th next month. but most of our professors are cancelling class on that day and just doing unit tests or paper due dates that week instead.

why are we asking, why did you make a group chat, and why is Wanda not privy to this conversation?

Kate:

Lena, you’re being extra right now :P

hi Agatha!

Nat - what Lena said, just without the constant sass.

is everything okay?

Agatha:

Hi ladies. Actually, I was the one who originally asked about spring break - wanted to be sure yours matched with ours, and that you didn’t have any other plans. 

Wanda’s had…a rough couple of weeks. I was considering trying to arrange either a) you three coming out here for a few days (or the whole week if employers don’t mind) or b) the four of you finding a random in-between spot to spend a few days in. 

I feel like it would help ease her mind for a few days - even if we do have almost a month before it’s an option.

Natasha:

If we go somewhere that isn’t spending a few days in New York, you’re coming too!

(If you don’t have plans, that is.)

It would be fantastic to have the four of us in one place for a few days and NOT be surrounded by funeral shit, but I’ve already told you, Agatha - we’re keeping you if you’ll let us.

Besides, you haven’t met these other two weirdos yet.

Yelena:

сука!

(I love you Tasha!)

but srsly, we’d like to meet you if you’re part of the madness. especially if there’s a chance you’re gonna end up being our sister’s girlfriend ;)

Agatha:

I wouldn’t go THAT far, not yet anyway.

But if you insist, Nat, I don’t have plans. This is me we’re talking about - the most I’d be doing all week would be day drinking with Wanda’s mythology instructor when she’s available.

I’m open to whatever you have in mind, but I definitely don’t think the traditional beach crap would be her thing.

Kate:

you’d be correct. she likes forests. and mountains. also, is she okay? I mean, I know she’s really not and she’s just trying really hard to pretend she is, but she hasn’t been very chatty when I’ve reached out.

Agatha:

Well…she’s functional. I’ve managed to get her to eat dinner and breakfast and keep it all down since last night, so that’s an accomplishment.

But she got bad news this morning regarding something from her foster care days before you three, and it’s been a massive trigger. I’m afraid to consider what she would have done if she had actually gone home last night instead of falling asleep on my couch. She’s been…dissociating heavily today.

Natasha:

Holy shit. I have a feeling I know what this is about, but she’s never given me full details. I think Lena and Kate know the general picture of it.

What do you know, Agatha?

Agatha:

I don’t want to give too much information - I don’t want to break that trust. But just look up Victor Domashev. Cincinnati. DON’T tell her I told you, though I’m not sure whether she cares how much you guys know currently.

Also, she filled me in on her self-harm history…and as I’m sure at least Natasha has suspected, she’s relapsed really badly.

Yelena:

Jesus fuck.

we knew, or rather guessed, but we didn’t have a name or a face.

can we just take him out, Tasha??? she wasn’t his first or his fucking last, and I want to obliterate him.

Natasha:

Yelena, as much as I would love to finish that creep, we can’t do Wanda much good if we’re in prison when she needs us.

We have to keep this down.

Agatha, I’m in on the trip. Just gotta iron out the details.

Kate:

I’m in too!

Yelena:

Same.

Agatha:

All right, then. We’ll start planning. I intend to surprise her, at least a little bit regarding who all is coming, but I’ll make sure she takes off from the shop that week as well.

Thank you all for being flexible.

Natasha:

For Wanda? Whatever it takes.

-Yelena liked Natasha’s message-

-Kate liked Natasha’s message-

Agatha:

Whatever it takes, indeed.

Chapter Text

Wanda’s mind is a shitshow. And that’s literally all she has to say about it. That, plus the seemingly insurmountable guilt over not being able to just enjoy time with Agatha, has Wanda desperately trying not to spiral more.

She survived breakfast, albeit not by much, and now she’s curled up on the couch, trying so very hard not to freak out over the feeling of food - even in liquid form - settling in her stomach. Next to her, Agatha is seated, cross-legged, eyes glazed but somewhat watching some stupid Netflix show they’d decided was fine. Her hand is on Wanda’s upper back, fingers slipped between strands of hair. Every time Wanda seems to tense up, the fingers start moving, carding through her hair and running down her back simultaneously, clearly intended to soothe.

Much to Wanda’s shock, it’s actually working.

After about an hour of this, Agatha’s eyes find hers, and they hold the gaze. “What do you want to do today, hun? Did you have plans for the weekend before I asked you to come over?”

Wanda shakes her head slowly, lets out a breath, but looks away for a second. “Honestly, my weekend was going to be cleaning my apartment. Pretty pathetic for a college kid, huh?”

Agatha tilts her head, a smirk threatening the corner of her mouth. “No, what’s pathetic is the lie you just told me. Your apartment is almost depressingly clean, doll. Hardly looks lived-in, down to the empty cabinets.”

Wanda tilts her head right back, eyes searching Agatha’s. “You’ve seen it once, Agatha, how would you know that?”

“When you grow up with a mother like mine, Wanda, you learn to tell when something is always clean versus being cleaned because it’s been lived in until company arrives,” Agatha drawls, shaking her head before watching Wanda carefully. “You could have just said you didn’t have plans. Unless your plan was to self-destruct some more, which I’m concerned might have been the case if you’d been home alone this morning.”

“Wasn’t. I’m guessing your mother…sucked, considering you have no family photos except for Rio and Nicky in this house,” Wanda deflects, hoping that it works.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t. Agatha raises her eyebrows, then moves her hand off Wanda’s shoulder to snag her by the chin as she tries to avert her gaze. “Sweet girl, changing the subject does not make your words believable. From what I saw this morning, and what you went through last night, I already know exactly how a weekend off would go for you if left to your own devices. And…if it helps, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t want you to have to go through this, and I hate that you are when none of us are around.”

But I deserve it, the thought enters Wanda’s mind before she even blinks.

“Why do you think you deserve to harm yourself like this, Wanda?”

The question is gentle, but prodding, and Agatha’s sharp eyes watch her face for a response. Wanda’s mouth opens, then closes, in relative shock. “I - I didn’t realize I spoke that out loud.”

Agatha sighs, stroking Wanda’s cheek with her thumb. “You didn’t, honey. I just…I know that look, I’ve seen it before, and I’ve finally put together what it means. You don’t deserve to do this to yourself. Why would you deserve tormenting your mind and body until both completely give out, well before it’s your time?”

Because I should have been the one to die.

Because I’m never going to be good enough to atone for my failures.

Because I tempted Victor, and Vision, and it’s my fault. (Do I even still believe that?)

Because I am nothing, no one, and Pietro deserved this life more than I did. Pietro wouldn’t be falling apart. Pietro would be okay without me.

Because my choices killed the only birth family I had left.

It’s too much.

It’s always too much.

Wanda wrenches herself out of Agatha’s hands, chest heaving and hands trembling. She can’t allow anyone to care about her like this, she can’t, not when she’s such a monster that she’s the one who survived. She can’t let anyone else get hurt because of her. She has to pay for her sins.

She’s on the floor, at the opposite end of the couch, before she even has time to think about what she’s doing. She’s gone into her defensive shell - arms wrapped around her knees, head tucked to her chest, intentionally trying to shrink as close to invisibility as she can get. Her head is spinning, it’s worse than the fucking merry-go-round at that stupid park in Cincinnati that Mama used to take her and Pietro to, and Pietro would always push the merry-go-round way too fast and accidentally end up making his sister nauseous.

Her lungs feel like all the air is being sucked out of them, and it won’t come to her when she breathes in, so she breathes faster and it doesn’t work either. 

Is this it? 

Is she finally dying? 

Is her body finally giving up, after years of intermittently abusing it?

No, of course not. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

She can’t control the shaking, not that she notices, and the unpleasant, cold tingling sensation that she’s come to associate with intense anxiety and emotional hell is spreading across her face, down her neck, to her entire body. Her eyes are dry, squeezed shut tight, but her jaw is aching, and vaguely she realizes that she’s clenching her teeth so hard she’s surprised none of them have cracked.

It’s too fucking much.

“Wanda.”

She’s too much.

“Wanda, baby, you need to breathe.”

She’s not enough.

“Wanda!”

She’ll never be enough.

A deep sigh, from beside her. The rustling of a hand moving something.

Warmth, wrapped around her shoulders, squeezing her, providing pressure, but not tight enough to hurt.

A heartbeat under her fingertips, coupled with exaggerated, deep breaths.

“Copy me, darling. It’s okay.” 

The words are strong, commanding, but oh so tender and careful. Wanda obeys; what else can she do?

In. One, two, three, four.

Out. One, two, three, four, five, six.

Repeat. And again. And again.

After several long, tiring minutes, breathing is easier. The trembling recedes, then ceases entirely. The unpleasant tingling subsides, in the same manner it began. Slowly, Wanda opens her eyes, lifts her head.

She’s wrapped in “her” blanket, but also one of Agatha’s arms. The older woman is kneeling beside her, watching her carefully and with enough concern that it’s heartbreaking. Without thinking, she reaches out to brush hair from Wanda’s eyes - it’s become a reflex now, and Wanda’s finally getting used to it. (She’s actually starting to enjoy it, but she’s afraid to admit that to herself.)

“That was a pretty long trip down the panic attack road, sweet girl.”

Wanda swallows, hard. Her next words are raspy. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how - how it hit that hard. You shouldn’t have had to see that, and it was really stupid when you’re just trying to help, and -”

Agatha silences her with a tight embrace, pulling Wanda to her chest and cuddling her. For the second time today.

Fuck, you’re weak.

“Wanda, this is what friendship is for. I could never be angry at you for being vulnerable around me. I want that. I want you to trust me, because I want to be around you and I enjoy your presence. I want to help you, sweetheart. Please don’t apologize for that. I hate that your trauma has done this to you. I fucking hate it. You don’t deserve this, baby. Nat doesn’t seem to think you do, and she’s known you longer - that has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“Natasha sees something in me that doesn’t exist, Agatha,” Wanda whispers, but she rests her forehead against the woman’s shoulder. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me…”

“It’s not because of you, darling.” She feels Agatha’s grip around her tighten. “I’m here. We’re here. And I’ll do whatever I have to do to help you.”

Suddenly, Agatha pulls back. “Landscape or Galaxy?”

“Happy little trees, my ass,” Wanda grumbles with a grin, hesitantly dipping a brush and regarding the sight in front of her. Agatha throws her head back and laughs, full-on laughs, and in the calm after the storm, Wanda’s heart skips a beat.

Fuck. She likes Agatha. She really, really likes her.

“Actually, I’ve always enjoyed crafty shit, but therapy got me to start doing this,” Agatha explains with a reciprocal smile. “Rio was the artist. I was the musician. But Rebecca - my therapist, you’d like her, I think - had a thing for encouraging me to do creative things that felt silly at first. Watching Bob Ross and trying to replicate the paintings ended up being the best method. It was…oddly cathartic. I ended up moving to painting other things, hence why I asked you about galaxies too. I think it helped with more than just losing my family.”

Wanda returns to the tree she’s working on, barely touching the brush to her canvas, and smiles to herself, bottom lip going between her teeth. Honestly, the more she learns about this woman, the more she wants to know, and that idea terrifies her. The moments after her earlier panic attack were delicate, she was delicate, but something has felt different since then. She still feels irritatingly fragile. But she doesn’t mind it as much, in the presence of the woman who keeps choosing to climb into her shell with her instead of trying to pull her out of it constantly.

(She doesn’t see Agatha’s eyes watching her as she smiles, contemplates, paints. She doesn’t witness the softening in Agatha’s features at seeing Wanda feel…somewhat okay, in a peaceful kind of way. She doesn’t yet know how the older woman feels about her - that it echoes the flutters in her own heart.)

“You’re really good at this,” Agatha says softly, as Wanda adds a touch of an additional color not used for this part of the video, and uses it. Immediately, the tree seems more…alive. “Did you just figure that out on the fly!?”

Wanda giggles, and feels her cheeks burn. “Well, I had a phase with sketching. Never could get shapes and faces right, but it at least helped with color theory and depth in my mind. Yours looks really good, too!”

And it does. But Agatha smiles sheepishly and looks back to the TV. “Thank you. I’ve - had some time to learn, obviously. When you’re trying to quit alcohol, pills, and also trying not to kill yourself on purpose because there are still people you’ve yet to meet, lives you haven’t yet lived, you…pick up things to pass the time. Again, Rebecca suggested this, but it was a huge part of processing my emotions.”

“I - actually, I can see how that would be effective,” Wanda responds quietly, rinsing her brush before moving to the next color. “My head feels so quiet right now. It’s strange.”

“Interesting how using your hands to create something quiets the demons, isn’t it,” Agatha murmurs, finishing up the exact same task.

“It is.” Wanda pauses, looks to Agatha’s face, feeling the worry in her own eyes, the fear of judgment for her next words. “It…it tells me I should have been the one. Not Pietro. That I…don’t deserve to be here, because it’s my fault he’s gone. But I’m not allowed to just give up, because I have to make up for what should never have happened. It’s…so odd, really, because when I was younger, I didn’t really have the subconscious voice in my head, I didn’t eat and hurt myself because I needed to feel like I was in charge without hurting anyone else, without stepping on toes. But now…”

Her breath shakes, and she sets her brush down for a moment. “Now, it tells me I should do this shit until it kills me. And that I deserve the pain. I feel like I’m going insane.”

She looks at Agatha again, her voice in a whisper. “I hate it. I hate that I need it. I hate living like this. I hate that I don’t want to be here, Agatha. I want everything to be okay…but I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop, and sometimes I wonder if I want to stop. Not without half of my soul. What is wrong with me?”

Agatha hums, grimacing as she sets the brush down, pauses the video, and turns to look at Wanda with a grim expression. “You have experienced more trauma in half your life than a good number of people will in all of theirs, Wanda. And you haven’t dealt with any of it, haven’t been able to let any of it heal. That’s exhausting, baby. That is utterly exhausting. But you…you don’t have to stay like this.”

“What if I do?” Wanda worries at her lip, but Agatha leans over to her.

“What if you don’t?”

In the face of the woman who is wiggling herself into Wanda’s life and trying to make it better, she giggles. “I get what you’re saying…I just feel like this is all I know some days.”

Agatha smiles sadly at her, and they look at each other in silence for a moment. A moment later, Agatha catches her completely off guard.

“I have an appointment with Rebecca this week - it’s just a check-in, but I made it for a few reasons. Have you ever been to therapy?”

Wanda shakes her head, and Agatha purses her lips before speaking again.

“Would you like to come sit in on my session to see what it’s like?”

Inexplicably, Wanda nods.

Chapter Text

It’s Sunday afternoon, and Wanda is reluctantly getting ready to go back to her apartment. She didn’t think she could enjoy spending weekends with other people anymore, but since their conversations Friday and yesterday, something has shifted between the pair. Wanda feels…slightly less burdensome and anxious about being around the older woman, and more comfortable just existing together. She’s felt a little better about eating, they’ve laughed a lot, they’ve definitely been binge-watching Netflix shows - hell, she even helped Agatha cook dinner last night. Things have just been… easy between them, and Wanda would only be deluding herself if she claimed not to like the dynamic. 

Actually, she could get used to this.

But you won’t, because you don’t deserve it and you won’t be here long enough, her mind sneers at her, and she sighs deeply as she tries yet again to drag a brush through her freshly showered, freshly blow dried, snarled hair. It’s gotten long again - it probably needs a good trim, but it would also help if she wasn’t constantly giving up on it and yanking it into a bun or high ponytail.

She stares into the mirror of the little vanity in the guest room, her reflection mocking her. It’s not so much the darkness that typically lingers, not the shadows under her eyes, nor the hollowed-out parts of her face - it’s how content she looks, underneath it all.

She can’t remember the last time she felt this way. Long before Pietro…

She sighs again, and Agatha pops her head around the doorframe. She’s been doing laundry, bustling up and down the hall, making a point of bringing Wanda’s clothing from Friday into the guest room - the redhead hadn’t anticipated actually spending the entire weekend, but has borrowed sweaters and pants from her friend the entire weekend. 

(She has no idea that something inside Agatha just clicks at the sight of her wearing the older woman’s shirts, and that she’s been the focus of a few subtle stares and nearly-imperceptible lip bites.)

“You okay?” Agatha asks softly, stepping into the room and approaching the vanity slowly. Wanda offers her a tight smile back, before allowing her eyes to return to the reflection in front of her. She resists a grimace at how the peace in her expression has faded so quickly, and her shoulders sag, giving up on her hair entirely as she sets the brush down.

“I guess so,” she responds, trying to keep her voice reserved to mask the bone-deep emotional ache beginning to take hold again. Her eyes don’t come back to meet Agatha’s, and she can hear the woman let out a slow breath and step further into the room.

“Why don’t I finish this?” she offers, hesitantly but full of affection, as she gestures at the brush and Wanda’s half-brushed mess of hair. Wanda starts to shake her head, politely refuse, but the words won’t come out. Instead, almost automatically, she takes Agatha’s now-offered hand and allows the older woman to gently tug her to her feet. Wanda tilts her head, puzzled, until Agatha walks her to the bed and seats her on the edge of it. “Stay right here, princess.”

Princess?

The term of endearment is new, unexpected, and sparks an odd, almost unfamiliar warmth in her lower abdomen. Without realizing she’s doing it, a sharp inhale goes into her lungs. Agatha doesn’t notice, or pretends not to, but moves around the bed and settles in, placing her legs on either side of Wanda’s and sitting directly behind her. Automatically, Wanda wraps her arms around herself.

The first, oh-so-careful touch of brush bristles moving against her scalp sends a shiver down Wanda’s spine, and she lets out a little involuntary noise as her head tips back slightly. Behind her, Agatha chuckles softly, but says nothing and continues slowly moving the brush through the tangled strands. Each stroke of the brush is tender, caring, and sends Wanda further into the sense of calm she was starting to lose. It’s…oddly intimate, but not in a way that brings about the dread of expectations. Agatha is deliberate in her movements, taking her time, gently untangling all of the locks. When the brush catches a snag, she stops and works through it with her fingers, shushing and quietly apologizing.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Wanda whispers after the third apology, but Agatha meets her gaze in the vanity mirror across the room.

“I know that now, honey. But on the off chance I catch a more vicious snarl, I’d rather not cause you more pain than you already live with.”

Wanda can’t help it, and her eyes tear up. Why is she constantly so undone over this woman’s kindness?

She falls into silence until Agatha’s finished, but the woman’s fingers still move through the hair falling down Wanda’s back. “You’re allowed to say no, but is it okay if I braid this out of your way? It’s still pretty gross outside, and I’d hate for it to be clean and brushed out just for it to get all messed up when I take you home. After dinner.”

“I - I can go home myself, I made it here the first time,” Wanda retorts softly, but Agatha raises an eyebrow at her in the mirror.

“Wanda, you walked here. And if I’d have known you didn’t have other means, I’d have come to pick you up Friday night instead. I was actually super fucking worried when you showed up. You’re not walking home in this cold, sugarsnap. I’m proud of how well you’ve eaten this weekend, but one gust would probably still blow you away.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and Wanda scoffs with a little grin.

“You’re not good at being told ‘no,’ are you?” she teases, and Agatha smirks back as she, without waiting for confirmation, starts twisting three strands into a long and simple plait.

“Not when the ‘no’ could be detrimental to somebody I care about.”

Wanda doesn’t have a response to that, so she breathes slowly through her nose and tries not to fall asleep at the pleasant tugs of her hair being manipulated by Agatha’s hands. She barely registers the braid being tied off, only coming back to the real world when Agatha leans forward and wraps her arms around Wanda’s waist and arms from behind, resting her chin on the younger woman’s shoulder and hugging her tightly, affectionately.

“You are so beautiful, do you know that?” she murmurs into Wanda’s ear, and the younger woman ducks her head away from their reflections as her cheeks burn. “Hey, hey, come back to me. It’s okay to accept compliments, Wanda.”

“You’ve said that,” she replies in a barely audible whisper, chewing on her lower lip. Agatha hums softly, pressing her cheek against Wanda’s. Those nimble fingers trace shapes through the sleeves of her shirt, and the redhead sighs as her demeanor relaxes.

Suddenly, without really considering it, Wanda looks Agatha dead in the face in the mirror and says, “You know…I think the worst part of all this is really just that…I told everyone I was fine, showed it, tried to believe it. Told them I didn’t need help, no therapy, no medication, just time. And I think they believed me. But I never healed, Agatha. I just…”

She lowers her gaze, softly pulling her arms free and fidgeting with her rings first. “I guess I just finally learned to hide.”

Silence. Wanda doesn’t look up. Then -

“Well, we’ve all found you, darling girl. We can see you. You don’t have to hide anymore. We can work through this together.”

Wanda stiffens, and the hands on her waist squeeze just slightly. “Talk to me, Wanda. Do you trust me?”

The younger woman’s eyes lift to meet Agatha’s, and Wanda nods tentatively. “Good girl. Please talk to me. I want to take care of you, but I need you to talk to me.”

With a trembling sigh, Wanda whispers, “I’m afraid of what happens when I stop. I don’t know how to stop, but I’m afraid of what comes if I don’t. I can’t - I can’t - lose anyone else…not again. If I try to heal, and it hits me again, and I fall back down, I’m going to die anyway. But the way it’s going now, I know it’s coming. It’s going to kill me. And what’s fucked up is…sometimes, I wish it would fucking hurry up. I just want my brother.” The last sentence is said with a soft squeak as she claps her hand to her mouth, looking away and trying to muffle her sobs. “I’m sorry. I hate that my head is like this. It always ruins everything. Everybody tries to be nice and helpful but I can’t…”

She doesn’t register being turned around, not until she’s practically being cradled in Agatha’s lap and held, not unlike the way Natasha holds her when everything is too much. Agatha is humming, stopping to shush sometimes, but slowly rocking them both too. Finally, she does respond, and Wanda clings to the words because loath as she is to admit it, she needs this, this comfort from one of the few people she feels safe with.

“You don’t have to beat yourself up over this, angel. I know how hard this is. You are in a very, very dark place in your mind right now, and all you’ve been doing for years is metaphorically lighting candles and buying flashlights instead of just letting anyone help you repair the damage. Nobody is angry, Wanda…we understand, or at least, I do. Maybe I’m selfish, but I want you to stay. You’re too important to me, to Natasha, to the girls.”

She kisses the top of Wanda’s head, the touch unexpected, but the redhead doesn’t stop to feel the heat in her face that she normally would. “If you like my therapist this week, I need you to make appointments. I will help in whatever way I can, Wanda, and that includes this week. I’ll come with you for a while if you need. I just want you to try.“

Wanda says nothing, but does nod against Agatha’s shoulder, and the older woman’s form relaxes.

On Tuesday, just before lunch, Wanda waits in the library. Agatha should be out of class in about ten minutes, Lilia let her own class out early, so Wanda has been staring at the poetry workshop homework assignment on her laptop for the last half-hour. Her friend’s words echo in her head, but they seem to be disjointed, confusing, interrupted by the unseen but ever-present monsters in her mind.

We’re in this together, and for the long haul.

(You’re still not good enough.)

I’m not leaving you.

(They will. And you deserve it.)

I want you to feel safe with me.

(You’ll be the reason something terrible happens to her.)

“Hey, Wanda?”

Her head snaps away from her computer, and the startle she feels must be evident in her face. Alice stands beside her chair, shifting her weight awkwardly, and winces when she sees Wanda’s expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t, not too much,” Wanda responds softly, trying to smile. Alice reciprocates, her features softening. “What’s up? I didn’t see you in class today.”

“Oh. I…actually, I was going to ask you about the reading she was going to assign for Thursday. I had something stupid come up this morning, and Lilia knew, but I’d feel bad pestering her for the pages.”

Wanda scrunches her nose, smiling a little wider. “You know she wouldn’t care, but here.” She tears a sheet of paper from the notebook next to her computer and scribbles down the information. Alice takes the paper and beams. 

“Thank you so much. It’s been a weird couple of weeks, for sure. Hey…” she shifts again. “Would you want to hang out with my girlfriend and me sometime? I think you might know her, she took Harkness’ class a couple semesters back but she’s a theatre major, so she’s always in the performing arts building.”

Wanda pauses, looks away, thinks about it, then it hits her. “Are you dating Jennifer Kale? She’s cool. Very on top of her game in like everything I’ve ever seen her do.”

Alice grins, her cheeks turning faintly pink, and Wanda grins back. “Yeah, that was a pretty good guess. I think she mentioned you to me once, back in November or something. Something about a class you had together.”

“Ugh - that professor was weird as hell. But Jen was pretty fun to work with. I’m open to hanging out. You have my number, right?”

“That I do. I’ll - I’ll text you sometime soon. Harkness is coming this way, so I have a feeling you’ll be occupied here in a minute.”

This time, Wanda flushes. “She’s a friend, yeah. Still not sure why she wants to be my friend, but she’s great.”

Alice giggles, and before she turns to walk away, she finishes with, “Well, so you know, Lilia thinks you two would be cute together. But I didn’t tell you a damn thing.”

Wanda blinks, several times, at Alice’s retreating back. She almost doesn’t notice Agatha’s hand coming down gently on her shoulder, but she turns and looks up, smiling softly. “Hey.”

“Hey, hot stuff,” Agatha smiles back down at her. “Can I pull you away from homework for a couple hours before you go to work?”

Wanda tilts her head. “I thought we were just going to your session.”

“We are, but…I was thinking we could get lunch after. Or I can feed you at my house before you have to get to work?” Agatha is asking with a tone that gives Wanda the chance to decline, but implores her to accept. Her hand shifts a little to the side, brushing hair away from Wanda’s shoulder, and the contact sends a shudder through the younger woman.

“Well, I just agreed to hang out with someone from Lilia’s class and her girlfriend. Not now, but at some point. I don’t make those kinds of agreements, so I feel like I need to continue doing things I don’t normally do. We can go to lunch.” She pushes the chair back and stands, snapping her laptop shut and quickly shoving everything into her bag. 

Before she can nonchalantly turn and follow Agatha, the older woman catches her gently by the elbow, having not moved just yet. Her smile meets her eyes now, and she looks pleased. Wanda blushes hard, averting her eyes as Agatha leans in. “I know this isn’t easy, but I’m proud of you for trying. You’re doing your best, and that’s all I can ask of you.”

Wanda inhales, then exhales slowly, composing herself before meeting the eyes above her. “T-thank you. Can we go now? I don’t want you to be late.”

Agatha’s eyebrows furrow for less than a second before she chuckles and nods. “Yes, we can. Good girl, thank you for reminding me.”

As they exit the library, heading to where Agatha’s car is parked in the lot nearby, Wanda bites the inside of her cheek and tries to fight the rising blush over the praise. What is wrong with me?

Ten minutes later, the duo sits in Rebecca Kaplan’s office. Agatha is filling out some paperwork - apparently, it’s been a few months since she’s needed to come in - leaving Wanda to her own racing thoughts. This is just Agatha’s appointment, but the potential promise it carries is…honestly, quite fucking terrifying. If Wanda wasn’t already sitting here, she’d have changed her mind and gone to her apartment instead of waiting for Agatha.

But if she had made that decision, she would be deprived of the pride Agatha is radiating, as she reaches over and squeezes Wanda’s hand. And because this woman is too good at tearing down Wanda’s defenses, Wanda takes a deep breath and squeezes back. Right as Agatha returns the paperwork to the front desk, the hallway door opens to reveal a petite woman who has to be in her late thirties. She looks casual enough for a therapist - ash brown hair tied neatly away from her face, long sleeved blouse, slacks, a small smile of encouragement on her face. That doesn’t exactly help Wanda’s anxiety, but it doesn’t make it worse either.

Agatha turns from the front desk and beckons to Wanda, who swallows hard and rises to her feet. Agatha and the woman at the door are talking quietly, and the woman turns her smile to Wanda as she approaches. “So you’re Agatha’s friend, right?”

“Oh. Um…yes. I’m Wanda. It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Kaplan.” She lifts her hand slightly, awkwardly, and offers a faint smile. Dr. Kaplan steps back, allowing Agatha and Wanda to walk through the door.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wanda. Please, call me Rebecca. I hope my session with Agatha today gives you a feel for what your own next steps could look like. I was almost pleasantly surprised when Agatha asked if she could bring you along.”

Wanda isn’t sure how to respond, but before she can muddle through her thoughts and find something worth saying, they’ve arrived at a single, solid wooden door with Dr. Kaplan’s name on the gilded lettering. Rebecca turns to the duo as she opens the door. “Anybody need anything - water, coffee?”

Wanda shakes her head, politely declining as she clutches her water bottle close to her. Rebecca turns to Agatha, who also declines and walks through the door.

“She’d offer stronger, but it’s still a medical facility,” Agatha murmurs dryly to Wanda, who smiles weakly back as they walk in. “Also, she’s only excited I brought you because she’s surprised I made a friend who isn’t Lilia.”

“Agatha!” Rebecca chides playfully, shutting the door behind them. Agatha snickers and flashes her signature smile, the one that makes Wanda’s heart stutter in her chest, and beelines for a couch, beckoning for Wanda to join her. The therapist just smiles, expression warm but also commanding. “I’m going to assume you were joking and don’t actually feel that way, or it’s apparently been too long since I’ve last seen you.”

The banter continues like this for a moment, and it actually helps ground Wanda more than she knows. The casual nature of it, the way Agatha seems to have such a good relationship and easy rapport with someone who knows her deepest secrets and has a medical license - it’s confusing to Wanda, but also endearing and intriguing. Is this what it’s like to just let yourself be open?

“So,” Rebecca’s voice shifts, and Wanda looks up as she catches the change. Agatha sits up a little more. “I’m assuming you set the appointment because we’re coming up on a couple of anniversaries for you, Agatha. You’ve got a little over a month, but I’m glad you called me early.”

“Seven years,” Agatha confirms quietly, and her demeanor is different now - not broken, not a reflection of the heaviness Wanda feels most of the time - but a quiet kind of sadness, like a wound that’s healed over but still twinges with phantom pains. She makes eye contact with Wanda. “Nicky…right after spring break. Rio in June.”

Without thinking, Wanda lets go of her bag with one hand and rests that hand on Agatha’s knee, squeezing as if to soothe. Agatha doesn’t jump, but she does blink once, then twice. A slow, tiny smile dawns on her face, and she covers Wanda’s hand with her own, squeezing back. Rebecca says nothing about the dynamic between them, but smiles and turns to her laptop for a moment, typing in a few notes before turning back to the duo. “You’ve made so many big strides in working through all of this, Agatha, but I know last year was a little more difficult than it had been at five years. So, how have your emotions and thoughts been surrounding those dates this year?”

Agatha releases a slow breath that Wanda didn’t know was being held, squeezing Wanda’s hand gently again. “They’ve been - better than last year, but I’m trying to be more intentional about letting the darker moments pass without being angry at myself for still having them. I don’t drink more than one or two glasses of something socially, I’m not going anywhere near pills, and I’m doing a lot more painting at the moment.” She casts a subtle wink in Wanda’s direction, and Rebecca grins.

The next half-hour in Rebecca’s office is spent with Agatha giving life updates, and Rebecca suggesting additional ideas for mitigating anxiety before it becomes panic. Wanda listens quietly, having released her gentle vice grip on her friend’s leg and curled up on the corner of the couch. But near the end of the session, Rebecca turns her gaze to Wanda, though she’s addressing Agatha. “So, did Wanda tag along to offer support?”

Agatha clears her throat and shakes her head. “She’s a great support and a very sweet friend, yes, and I absolutely adore her, but she’s never been to a therapist and I wanted to show her that it’s not as terrifying as she thinks it is. So I figured I’d be a little vulnerable, and show her that this isn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected.”

Rebecca glances over to Agatha and smiles. “That is…very kind of you, Agatha. Wanda, how are you feeling over there? Did this answer any questions for you?”

Wanda blinks, caught off guard, before responding, “I’m okay. This wasn’t too bad to observe. I’ll definitely consider it.”

Rebecca tilts her head, smile softening a little. “A very diplomatic response. I hope you take the leap of faith, it never hurts to talk to someone.”

Wanda says nothing else, just nods quietly and looks down.

When the duo has said goodbye, and Rebecca has handed Wanda any information she has for how to start therapy, Agatha turns to Wanda in the car. “Are you okay?”

Am I okay? That therapy session wasn’t mine, but it wasn’t terrible - could I see myself trying to do this?

No, you fucking will not. They’ll take your power from you, and you’ll have to spend the rest of your life without your family. You will be weak, stupid, useless if you let them try to save you.

Stop…Just stop.

“I…I don’t know. I think I’m okay. But…” Wanda trails off, unsure how to respond fully, heart pounding. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Agatha furrows her eyebrows, starting the car before reaching over and squeezing Wanda’s hand tenderly. “I know it’s scary, but I also know you’re strong. I’m here every step of the way, no matter what.”

She turns the radio up, and the two fall into a silence laden with a little heaviness. Halfway back to Agatha’s, Wanda’s mind drifts from her own anxiety to the lyrics being sung through the speakers.

“Someone dies, or someone gets hurt

But if one of us dies,

I hope I die first…”

Her mind begins to spin again, flashes of memories she hates dwelling on. Not her worst memories, no, that’s too easy - but all the ones of her other half, picking up the pieces and keeping them safe. All the times Pietro brought her back from the darkened edges of her mind. All the times they protected each other, how none of their foster parents understood until the Shostakovs.

“‘Cause I don’t wanna live without you

I don’t wanna ever learn

How to fall asleep without you

Tell me, what’s worse:

Losing you now, or later?

Maybe I can break the curse…”

And she didn’t break the fucking curse. She barely sleeps each night, knowing she failed to keep him safe. She never keeps anyone safe.

Because you can’t, can you?

She doesn’t realize she’s begun to shiver, not from cold but from an overwhelmed mind, or that she’s curled into herself in the passenger seat and leaned against the window, until Agatha parks the car in her driveway. Her friend turns the car off, hauls herself out of the driver’s seat, and is at Wanda’s door almost immediately. Before Wanda processes it, the passenger door is opened, and she barely has time to unbuckle herself before she’s being pulled out of the car and into a tight embrace loaded with emotion. Wanda almost fights back, nearly pushes out of the hold because she fucked up, her brother is dead because of her, she doesn’t deserve to be treated with kindness, she deserves what she does to herself…

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” Agatha murmurs into her hair, before pulling back just enough to grip one of Wanda’s hands. The younger woman barely registers making it inside or being pulled into Agatha’s arms again on the couch, just knows she’s suddenly indoors and being held.

“It should have been me,” Wanda finally whispers, still not crying, but shaken nonetheless. “He could have been fine without me.”

Agatha sighs, and her head shakes in denial against Wanda’s cheek. “No, baby, you know that’s false. You know it. Neither of you should have had to go through this, and it’s not fair. But you are so loved, sweetheart…and I wish you could accept it. Because we’re in this with you. And I know your sisters and Kate feel the same way I do - terrified of losing you to this shadow that overwhelms you.”

Wanda truly looks at Agatha with something resembling deep, resounding fondness, and responds, “I’d already be gone if you hadn’t showed up in my life, Agatha. I just - I’m still trying to find it in myself to keep choosing to stay. I’m sorry…I know that isn’t what you want to hear, I just -”

“I’d rather you tell the truth than say what I want to hear, honey.” Her thumbs brush across Wanda’s cheeks, and the touch is soothing, grounding. Wanda leans into it, not missing the hint of a genuine smile from her friend. “I just want you to try to stay. Whatever it takes.”

She’s apparently not expecting Wanda to wrap back around her, but accepts it with a quiet oof as the younger woman lunges forward into her arms again. Agatha’s hands immediately come up, one on Wanda’s back and one cradling the back of her neck. “For you, I will.”

Wanda misses the sincere, dazzling smile on Agatha’s face at her words, but she can feel the older woman’s body relax. And for once, she isn’t remotely embarrassed about melting into this hug.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks pass at an odd, inconsistent tempo, as attempts at healing typically go.

Most days are mercifully productive - and some are much more positive. Wanda goes to class, does her assignments on time, goes to work, tries to remember to text her sisters back, and in the first week, she fills out her intake paperwork for Rebecca Kaplan’s office and emails it in. Her introductory appointment is set for the Wednesday two weeks before spring break.

Most notably, she spends an increasing amount of time with Agatha - movie nights on Thursdays or Fridays become a consistent ordeal. They quickly learn each other’s schedules, and Wanda is in the department head office during lunch almost daily. Agatha encourages her to actually schedule the hangout with Alice and Jen, and Wanda does, and she actually enjoys her time with them. But most of her time outside of work and school is spent with Agatha, whose company she genuinely enjoys above all right now. And because of Agatha, she’s now eating at least one meal per day. Usually. Even when it’s challenging.

When her last class lets out that Wednesday, Wanda finds herself sitting in Rebecca’s office at 2:20pm - alone. Agatha had offered to join her, but Wanda specifically asked to go alone, at least this time. They’ve definitely developed a very fun camaraderie, but Wanda isn’t completely sure how this session is going to go…and she’d much rather go at it alone this time. So now, she sits in a simple chair, staring blankly at the muted television in the lobby, which is playing some afternoon game show or another that she doesn’t care about.

“Wanda?”

She blinks, turning her gaze to the hallway door, where Rebecca is standing and watching her. The therapist smiles warmly, clearly trying to dissipate the nerves Wanda tries not to radiate naturally. “You ready?”

Wanda says almost nothing, just letting out a simple sound of confirmation and standing up. It’s only a couple of seconds to the correct office, and they feel too quick, like Wanda’s pulse hammering in her chest. Rebecca turns to her as they walk into the office. “Coffee?”

Wanda ducks her head and gently shakes her water bottle, a mildly bashful smile on her face. “I’ve got what I need for now. Thank you, though.” At Rebecca’s gesturing, Wanda makes her way to the couch and sits, putting her feet flat on the floor and sitting primly. Rebecca goes to her desk, right across from the couch, and assumes a relaxed position in her chair.

“So. You came to sit in on Agatha’s session, and now here you are. I’m glad you decided to make an appointment.”

Rebecca is all warm smiles. Wanda isn’t completely sure how she feels about it. But in her mind, a small amount of honesty right now is probably what’s best. “Well, to be fair, Agatha and my sisters have all been begging me to do this for weeks. Probably longer with my sisters, I’m sure. I guess I just decided I needed to do it.”

Rebecca inclines her head, acknowledging the response. “Fair enough. Everyone starts somewhere. I’d venture a guess that you’re pretty close to your sisters? You and Agatha seem to have a very supportive dynamic.”

The corners of Wanda’s mouth tug into a faint smile. “My sisters are all I have left from life before I graduated high school. They’re actually my foster siblings, but our foster parents did a fantastic job of creating a family for us. I’ve only known them since I was thirteen, but they’ve been with me through everything since then.”

“Foster care…challenging, but when the right place finds you, or you find it, it really can make a difference. Were you an only child biologically?”

Wanda’s breath catches in her throat, and she deflates for a second before offering a tight smile and shaking her head. “No. I’m a twin. Or, I was. My brother, Pietro, he…we were at a gas station just off campus that got shot up right after Christmas. He - he tried to disarm the shooter, and didn’t make it. I think it’s been…a couple months, I guess? Our parents died when we were ten, so we were in the system together until we aged out, then came to NYU together.” She bites back the wave of tears before it starts, forcing it down as best she can. Rebecca catches it, Wanda can see that in the older woman’s neutral-schooled face, but she doesn’t comment on it right away. Instead, she nods and leans forward on her elbows.

“I think I remember the news bringing that up. You’re stronger than you think you are, Wanda. I can’t imagine how difficult this has been for you. Why do you think your sisters have been asking you about trying therapy?” Rebecca’s tone is kind, caring, inquisitive, but Wanda is still wary.

Do I tell the truth now? There’s…so much to…

Don’t say a fucking thing, you idiot. You’re only here so they stop freaking out at you. Get them off your back.

Stop. Please just stop. I don’t want to keep living like this.

“Want” to? Why does it matter what you want? Are you so all-important and special that you shouldn’t suffer for letting your family die?

“Wanda?” Rebecca’s voice breaks through the chaos in Wanda’s head, gentle but firm. Wanda exhales sharply, then inhales as she realizes she still hasn’t answered.

“Um…I’m not sure. Probably because they think I’m not handling Pietro’s death very well,” she says quietly, and while she’s still looking in Rebecca’s direction, she doesn’t meet the therapist’s gaze. “They’re concerned that I’m not dealing with it in a good way. But they worry too much. They always have.”

Rebecca tilts her head slightly, the faintest hint of a knowing smile on her face. “People who care about you are allowed to worry, Wanda. You can’t control their reactions. Do you think you might give them reason to be concerned?”

And there it is…again. Wanda feels her shoulders tighten, but before she can come up with a response, the therapist adds, “We don’t have to go into everything today, but I need you to be aware that the more you omit, the harder it’ll be for me to help you. And I’d like to. I can see some of what you can’t bring yourself to say, and I’d be more than happy to help you work through all of this. But it’s not an overnight fix, Wanda, and it’s going to take you facing what I’d imagine is a pretty hefty fear of being vulnerable.”

To her shock, Wanda’s mind is actually quiet. No screaming, no flashbacks, no racing thoughts. Just her heart pounding in her ears and notes of anxiety fluttering in her stomach.

What if she gets put in a psych ward, like, right now?

What if Rebecca thinks she’s beyond help?

What if she gets “better” and then it all comes crashing down again?

“They’re worried because I’ve never had a good relationship with food, and because I take my bad thoughts and memories out on myself instead of venting.” The words rush out of Wanda’s mouth before she can stop them, and they continue as if she’s unable to control what she’s saying. “I don’t eat very much, I never have, and I have other…self-destructive mechanisms when hunger doesn’t work on its own.”

Rebecca gives her a thin yet gentle smile. “Thank you for trusting me with that information; I can tell it was difficult for you to say. Sometimes, in the darkest times, it can feel like you’ve got a weight pressing on your voice when you want to admit you’re struggling. We don’t have to go too into detail this session, but this does give me a greater foundation to work with. When you say ‘not a good relationship with food,’ are you able to give specifics?”

Wanda pulls the corner of her lower lip between her teeth, eyes dropping to the floor. She should have expected this - talking about it is part of therapy, dumbass - but the nerves have a faint tremor coursing through her hands as she plays with her rings, twisting them around her fingers. “I…I can’t make myself eat sometimes, even if I’m actually hungry. A lot of the time, actually. If I’m not with Agatha, or my sisters, and nobody is reminding me, most of the time I just won’t eat.”

“And if you eat with someone else, what happens afterwards?” Rebecca is patient with her words, gentle, not forcing it too much, but she’s definitely pressing for clarity. Wanda would shy away and change the subject, but she knows it won’t fly.

“Um…sometimes I do okay. More so lately. But the guilt is there, for…for taking care of myself when half of me is gone forever. And…sometimes when it’s really bad, if I can’t get my head on straight, I…I get rid of the food. I make myself sick. But Agatha found out about it, and she told my older sister, so now I’m trying to not do it.” The words tumble out of her, and this time her voice shakes and she hates it. Even talking about it makes her feel exposed, laid bare in a way she doesn’t enjoy. Her teeth clench, not from anger but from the anxiety of it all, and she curls her legs underneath her and clutches her bag tighter to her chest.

Rebecca notices, and her head tilts slightly. “I can see how difficult it is for you to talk about this, but you’re doing a great job with what you are able to share. Are you able to specify any other coping mechanisms that aren’t safe for you?”

Wanda shakes her head, a quick, jerky motion that makes the room spin for a moment. She blinks once, twice, hard, and keeps her gaze fixed on her hands. “Not yet, if that’s okay. It…it’s too much right now.”

Rebecca smiles softly, encouraging. “That’s okay. We can work towards that. Is it okay if I ask you about hobbies and interests?”

Wanda nods once, thankful for the flexibility in the conversation. “That’s fine. I’m majoring in creative writing and minoring in dance - I’m not completely sure what I’m going to do with those yet, but they’re the two things that helped me during my younger years and I want to do something with them. So I spend a lot of time in the performing arts building, and I love reading and writing. Also happened to learn, thanks to Agatha, that I really like to paint. When I’m with my sisters, we like being outside or going to arcades. Just stuff that helps us unwind. I think we’re going to a mountain resort in Ohio over spring break, so I already know we’ll be outside a lot.” 

Rebecca grins, typing notes but still glancing over at Wanda. “Sounds like you’re pretty creative, then, and spring break sounds like it’ll be good for you.”

Ten or fifteen minutes of hobby conversation goes quickly - Wanda’s tension has subsided a little, so it’s easier to chat now since it’s more surface-level. Rebecca glances at the time on her laptop and huffs, but it’s not angry. “Well, we’re out of time for the first session. But does this day and time work for you for future appointments, barring spring break?”

Wanda nearly hesitates, but nods. “This is fine. Um…I have one question, though, and it sounds really stupid but I need to ask. How much can I say before you’re having me committed?”

Rebecca chuckles, but her expression is warm as she leans over her desk. “If I don’t suspect that you’re in imminent danger of gravely harming yourself or someone else, this stays confidential. Just us, unless you share with someone you trust. But I only give information to authorities or medical professionals with your consent or if you’re at risk for imminent maiming or death. Sound fair?”

Wanda nods, then stands. “Thank you for this.”

“Thank you for opening yourself up, Wanda. Same time next week.”

~ 

Later that evening, as she sits in her bed, Wanda can’t help but ruminate on…everything. Even if the session ended on a good note today, her emotions feel raw, vulnerable. Almost as if she’s been stripped of every defense she could have ever learned, and her soul is now exposed and bleeding. And her thoughts are too loud, tripping over each other until nothing makes sense. It’s giving her a headache, trying to unwind.

What if therapy just makes it worse?

What if this is just how she has to be? What if she does deserve this?

You can try to do better, but you’ll never make it.

Her gaze moves to her nightstand, to the handle of a drawer that contains the one blade she keeps for one specific purpose. Her skin crawls, and her stomach growls. Logically, she knows she should call someone - Agatha, Natasha, hell, even one of the younger two - just to talk, get it out of her system, maybe eat something with encouragement.

But her throat feels dry, in a way water can’t fix, and the words feel trapped just under her voice. She can’t. Therapy shouldn’t have even undone her this much…

You’re weak, that’s why. Time to toughen up.

Wanda sighs deeply, hanging her head, and her hand reaches for the drawer.

Maybe she’ll throw the razor blade away tomorrow. Maybe she’ll eat tomorrow, even more than once. But tonight…tonight, it’s too loud.

One week later, the day after the second therapy appointment…

It’s half an hour after Wanda has raced out of the office, digging her jazz shoes out of her backpack and swearing quietly to herself, that Agatha hears a cell phone vibrate.

And, go figure, it’s not her cell phone. No, that’s in her hand, because she’s in the middle of an email from one of her teaching assistants about the class she had to miss a couple days back. So when a phone vibrates, and it’s clearly not Agatha’s, all she can do is glance at her little coffee table and -

Yep. There it is, her little odd scarlet/violet-swirled phone case gleaming under the lights. Wanda had set it face down at one point, in the middle of the conversation they’d been having about the best crystals to carry on one’s person for emotional stability. And it looks like her potential lateness to her contemporary class was more important than having a means to communicate.

But, knowing Wanda, the second she realizes she doesn’t have her phone, she’s not going to rationally consider where she’d last been. Not Wanda. She’s going to panic. Which leaves Agatha with only one reasonable option.

Looking at her own device, she cracks a half-smile. Perfect. Still a whole hour until her last class for the day. The performing arts building isn’t far from humanities, and her legs are begging to stretch.

A short time later, she’s hustling up the steps into performing arts, pulling open the glass doors in front of her. Wanda’s phone is peeking out of the breast pocket of her jacket, and it vibrates again as Agatha rounds the corner to the massive glass window showing the inside of the dance classroom. She can hear music fade in as the small class of dancers assumes their start positions, before bursting into movement.

And I’ll use you as a warning sign

That if you talk enough sense, then you’ll lose your mind…

Agatha vaguely recognizes the music for the combination, but she’s barely paying attention to the song. Her eyes are trained on dark auburn hair, slung quickly back into a high ponytail, supple limbs that seem to move easier with song than they do in silence, and an emotional range that reminds Agatha of how much this woman has been through.

(To be fair, Agatha has suffered too. Along with losing Nicky, then Rio, Mother liked her best when she’d been whacked a good time with a hot iron, something about “teaching her not to be so evil” after little seven year old Agatha had spoken out of turn. Agatha knows now that it was abuse, plain and simple, but it took the state’s intervention plus the last two decades of on-again-off-again therapy for her to acknowledge how deeply she’s still scarred. She just hopes she can still give Wanda some reprieve, because this poor girl doesn’t deserve to hurt this way any more than Agatha did.)

And I moved further than I thought I could

But I missed you more than I thought I would

And I’ll use you as a warning sign

That if you talk enough sense, then you’ll lose your mind…

“Agatha? What are you doing here?”

Agatha whips around in surprise, and is met with an eye-level view of flawless dark skin and perfect teeth in a grin. She’d know that voice anywhere. She grins back and chuckles.

“Jen. Can’t say I’m surprised you’re here. How’ve you been?”

Jennifer Kale walks over, offers a side hug; Agatha returns it as Jen speaks. “I’ve been…busy, if we’re being honest. I didn’t know you had anything going on over here.”

“Ah, no. I’m just…” she pats her breast pocket absentmindedly. “A friend left her phone in my office and is in the dance classroom, so I thought I’d bring it back in between classes.” She turns back to the window, and vaguely hears Jen walk up beside her, though she doesn’t say anything. Agatha wouldn’t care; Jen was one of hers and Lilia’s most engaging students, and Agatha could multitask and have a conversation…

And I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me…

But Wanda. She’d only missed a couple of seconds of the combination the group was doing, but she didn’t want to take her eyes away. So Agatha tracks her back down, finds the young woman doing some kind of floor work that makes Agatha question her own flexibility at thirty-four years old.

“Didn’t think you had Maximoff in a class, Harkness.”

Agatha doesn’t look away from her view, but she raises an eyebrow. “How’d you know I was watching her?”

She can hear the smile in Jen’s voice. “Because every time she moves back into direct sight, you relax. If you can’t see her, you’re straining. Just barely.”

“Oddly astute from a performing arts witchy gal, don’t you think?” Agatha muses, and Jen chuckles.

“Maybe, but she’s also not in your class, she’s in Lilia’s, so why do you have her phone?”

This time, Wanda is out of direct sight, so Agatha turns to regard Jen. “How the hell do you know which class she’s in? I haven’t seen you in that building in, like, two semesters!”

Jen breaks eye contact, watching the dancers in the room. Her expression is calm, but Agatha sees a smile twitching. “I’m, uh, seeing a girl who’s in Lilia’s class this semester.”

Agatha grins and turns back to the window, too. “Alice is a fun one. I hope you’re not giving her too much hell.”

This time, Jen’s surprised. “How do you know I’m dating Alice Gulliver?” 

Agatha’s grin widens, never taking her eyes off her Wanda (her Wanda?), and she shakes her head. “Because, Jenny dear, even if Wanda hadn’t told me, since I was the one who encouraged her to accept Alice’s offer to hang out, you are exactly who I’d expect to date the rocker type. There are only two girls in Lilia’s class who fit that prerequisite this semester, and I know damn well you’re not dating Wanda.”

“Temporarily ignoring the fact that I can sense jealousy in your voice at the thought of me dating Wanda Maximoff, what makes you think I’m into that?”

“You’re the pretty princess type. Your natural counterpart is usually the opposite.” Agatha is responding, but her eyes haven’t left Wanda - who is currently part of a smaller group doing a turn combination that looks dizzying and almost ridiculously complicated.

“You’re a raging lesbian, an occult studies instructor, head of the mythology department, and a practicing witch…and you want to tell me about dating stereotypes?”

Agatha laughs, reaching out to pat Jen on the shoulder. “As long as you mesh well together, it really doesn’t matter.”

“Is that how it is for…you two? Has she taken a class with you at all?” Jen’s voice is calm, but laced with uncertainty. Agatha inhales through her nose, looking back to see Wanda complete a turn (did she just falter and does she look dizzy right now?).

“We’re not dating, Jen. She - we ran into each other, quite literally, her first day of transfer into Lilia’s class in January. I helped her find the room, we kept encountering each other at random, we ended up becoming friends. I’ve met her oldest sister, and I’m meeting the other two next week when we do our spring break trip. She’s a beautiful girl, obviously, but I’m not risking my morals to put the moves on a student, even if she is twenty-one. Any changes to our current relationship are up to her to initiate.”

“So…you do have feelings for her.” Jen tilts her head.

“I might. I was attracted to her, at first, but she’s been through hell and still shines for everyone else. I can’t seem to convince her to take care of herself, though,” Agatha murmurs, eyeing Wanda carefully (yep, she’s starting to struggle, shit) as if she’s going to collapse any second.

Honestly, she might. Agatha’s mind flits to one question - did she eat any of the lunch she brought in before she threw it away, or did she pretend to? She’s been doing so much better about it, but it’s still concerning. 

Oh, and I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me…

Agatha finishes the thought she’s been holding back. “All things considered, I haven’t felt this towards anyone in a long time.”

“Since your wife, I’d guess,” Jen assumes correctly, and Agatha nods. “Well, you’re a little insane, but your wife and son were lucky enough with you. Wanda would be too. She seems…like she needs that. She’s super quiet, you know?”

“You have to get her started on something she likes, then she speaks,” Agatha smiles softly. “She’s such a sweetheart. And if it’s an interest and she knows less about it than you do, she’ll ask every question she can think of to learn.”

They stand in silence for a moment, watching the class continue moving. Agatha’s eyes follow Wanda closely, monitoring for any more struggle.

“She never brings food. Or eats anything. Not in this building, anyway, and in this building, bringing some form of a snack is basically an unwritten must-do to stay on your toes…pun intended.” Jen’s voice is thoughtful, but Agatha detects concern beneath the calm facade. Agatha can’t help but listen - Wanda has made some progress, at least that’s how she’s presented herself to do, but it’s still a long way to go. 

Jen continues, unaware of Agatha’s thoughts moving as quickly as they do. “She’s the first one here and the last one out, though, besides me. I don’t have her in a class with me this semester, I think we’ve taken ballet and some choreography classes together before, but I’m in this building so much that I see everyone’s comings and goings. She…gives her all in that classroom, and she’s very sweet when she actually does talk, but everyone who’s had a class with her worries about her.”

“She’s…been through a lot, and that’s just referring to her life before this past Christmas break.” Agatha’s deep sigh afterward catches them both off-guard, and Jen’s eyes flick to her face briefly. “She spends so much time trying to convince people who care about her that she’s fine, and handling it all, but we know better. I had hoped her attempts to do better would translate to times where I’m not with her, or her sisters aren’t in town…I suppose that was too optimistic of me.”

“You keep saying she has sisters, but I thought her only sibling was her brother?”

Agatha lets out a single huff of fond amusement. “Pietro was her only sibling, biologically. They were orphaned at ten, and their last foster home at thirteen went the permanent legal guardianship route. The Shostakovs had already done the same thing with two other girls several years before, so the twins became the ‘middle children,’ and the youngest of the three girls has a best friend who has been around for so long that she’s basically part of the family now. From what I’ve heard, antics when these four are together are…”

“A reminder that you’re not in your twenties anymore?” Jen snarks, but it’s playful, and Agatha casts her an equally playful side glare.

“In fairness, Natasha is only nine years younger than me instead of thirteen, so I guess it balances out. I’ve always been young, but the flesh stops matching the spirit after a time.” She sighs in relief as the class stops, apparently dismissed, and she sees Wanda move over to where her water bottle and backpack are set on the floor.

Her heart rate spikes when she sees Wanda practically collapse onto the floor where her bag is, looking like she’s about a half-second from blacking out. The redhead’s eyes look vacant, exhausted, and Agatha just knows. 

Oh, Wanda…why have you been lying to me again? Just tell me it’s not good so I can help you.

As if reading her mind, Wanda looks up and her eyes zero in on Agatha through the window. Remembering why she had come to the performing arts building, Agatha pulls Wanda’s phone from her pocket and holds it up. The younger woman grimaces as she makes an effort to get back on her feet, moving as quickly as she can muster to the double doors, belongings in hand.

“Hey! Oh my god, I didn’t even realize I had left it. You didn’t have to come all the way over here just to bring my phone to me, Agatha!”

“I know I didn’t…but you would have freaked out, and I wanted to, anyway. Looks like it’s a good thing I did. Are you okay?” Agatha searches her face, watching Wanda’s eyes as she lowers them.

“I’m fine, Agatha.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for not believing you. I’m getting you something from the vending machine.”

“Ags, no, it’s okay -” Wanda seems to suddenly notice Jen standing there, and her eyes are now staring at the floor. “Oh. Hi, Jen.”

“Hey, she’s not wrong,” Jen says by way of greeting, but her voice is gentler than Agatha would expect. “You’re an incredible dancer, Wanda, but you aren’t going to thrive if you aren’t taking care of yourself. If that,” she gestures to the classroom, “is what you can do now, how wonderfully different would your ability be if you were fueling yourself properly?”

Wanda sighs, heavily, before acquiescing and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, okay, fine. Just…nothing too heavy, please, I already feel a little nauseous.” Almost immediately, she sways in place just a touch, and grips the windowsill to steady herself.

Agatha hurries to and from the vending machine in a matter of minutes, brandishing a protein bar. Wanda is now seated in one of the chairs in the viewing area, Jen seated beside her. The former student smiles wryly up at Agatha, then reaches over to squeeze Wanda’s shoulder before standing. “I’m gonna get back to the other side of the building, I’ve got class in ten. Good to see you, Agatha. And Wanda…please keep yourself safe.”

She’s gone before Wanda even processes what she’s said, and Agatha takes Jen’s place, gently pressing the purchased snack into Wanda’s hand. The latter takes it, but looks through the window into the classroom, gaze distant. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Agatha’s breathing is unsteady, trying to compose herself and not tear up at the heaviness in Wanda’s voice. “Darling, I just wish you hadn’t decided lying to me for the last few days was better than letting me in. I want to be there for you. You know that. I’m not upset, and worrying is part of being a friend and knowing you’re struggling.”

“That’s what Rebecca keeps telling me,” Wanda mutters, but she smiles softly. “That people are allowed to worry. I’m sorry I lied. It’s been really hard for the last week. I…I was trying. I’ve been trying. It’s just been…I can’t explain it but…”

“You’re having a hard time because you’re finally starting to talk through everything with someone who can help. The vulnerability can leave you feeling like a live wire if you aren’t leaning into your support system.” Agatha reaches out, rests a hand on the back of Wanda’s neck and twirls the baby hairs that never stay tied back. “You’re allowed to feel this way, honey, but you need to tell someone if you’re struggling.”

Wanda nods, changing her focus and staring at the wrapped granola bar in her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Agatha huffs, pulling her into a side hug for a moment. “Stop apologizing and eat your snack. Class is over, and you need to take a break before you do anything else. Perfect time to feed yourself.”

Wanda sighs and starts to open the package, but pauses with wide, anxious eyes as Agatha releases her grip and straightens up. “Wait. Um…I’m embarrassed to ask, but can you stay with me until I’m done? It’s…it’s been really hard to eat by myself again, and I’ve been scared to admit it.”

Agatha’s smile could light up the whole fucking building, at least in Wanda’s eyes, and her voice is gentle and understanding. “Of course I will.”

Chapter Text

“WANDA!”

Agatha turns from pulling luggage out of the trunk of her car, mildly startled by the loud, slightly-accented shriek. She catches Natasha’s gaze, an amused smirk on the redhead’s face, and then watches as a small blur of blonde hair and squealing barrels into Wanda. The younger woman lets out a soft oof before bursting into laughter as the blonde woman, instead of knocking Wanda over, lifts her up and spins her around in an embrace that is all excitement and love.

Agatha can’t help but smile at the warmth and genuine joy in Wanda’s laughter as the other woman hugs her. God, she really is mesmerizing.

Natasha catches her eye again, all raised eyebrows and a smirk that has gone from amused at the girls to knowing at Agatha’s expression. The older woman rolls her eyes playfully before going back to listening in on the girls. A striking young brunette with olive skin and a huge grin has stepped out of Natasha’s car and is walking towards Wanda and the blonde woman.

“Lena, put her down, you’re hogging my bestie and I can’t hug her if she falls over when you drop her,” the brunette calls as she approaches. The blonde - Yelena, Agatha has now realized - stops spinning, gently setting Wanda down but keeping her in a hold around the waist. Yelena scoffs playfully, tightening her grip around Wanda - and Agatha realizes just how much shorter Yelena is.

“I thought I was your best friend, Kate Bishop?” Yelena replies cheekily. Kate snorts as she draws close enough to poke Yelena’s side, eliciting an indignant squeal from the blonde. Wanda just giggles and pushes playfully at Yelena’s arms.

“Let me go, Lena, I need to hug Katie!” She squeals. Yelena scoffs again, but reaches out with one hand and snags Kate around the waist.

“Fine, group hug!” She shouts, and the other two oblige. Agatha chuckles quietly and pulls the last of hers and Wanda’s bags out of the trunk before shutting it. She takes a deep, slow breath and glances around, taking in the scenery around their cabin.

“This is going to be fun,” Natasha murmurs over her shoulder, and Agatha turns and smiles at the redhead. Natasha watches the three younger women for a moment before pulling Agatha into a hug. “I’ve missed you guys. Has everything been okay?”

Agatha sighs deeply into the hug, then pulls back. “Wanda, we’re going to run everything inside!”

From the middle of a conversation with Yelena and Kate, Wanda gives her a thumbs up, and Agatha chuckles. She grabs their luggage, jerks her head towards the cabin, and Natasha starts to follow her up the walkway. “Well, it’s honestly been a little of everything. And I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, to be fair.”

“Oh?”

Agatha shrugs with one shoulder. “She’s been sleeping in my guest room once every other week or so. Comes to my office a lot during lunch, and I can usually get her to bring something or eat something of mine. I’m honestly not sure if there’s anything new under the sleeves…but she’s also still struggling with food. A lot.”

“But she’s eating, at least a little,” Natasha clarifies, and Agatha nods before continuing as they enter the cabin with the keys Agatha had been given.

“Yeah. She’s trying. Although last week she lied about it a few different days…nearly passed out in a dance class, scared the shit out of me. She started therapy a couple of weeks ago, and I’m starting to feel like she needs to ask Carol to make Wednesday one of her permanent days off and start staying with me on Wednesday nights. She’s only been twice, but it’s left her vulnerable and it’s not anyone’s fault, she’s just finally trying to deal with it…I hope. I’m worried she’s only obliging on therapy to shut us up, if I’m honest. But she also seems…different.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“Nothing bad, so to speak - but she’s shying away from touch less and less. Actually, if I offer affection, she leans into it fairly quickly now. If she’s not trying to hide it, if she’s trying to do better, she seems less afraid of just coming to me when things get too loud in her head.”

“She trusts you,” Natasha says softly, a little smile tugging at her lips. “She feels safe with you. It’s like she turned a corner - and quickly, if I’m honest. It took her six months after they came to us for her to let anyone but Pietro even touch her. He warmed up faster than she did. For Wanda to actually attach to you in less than three months is…significant. She doesn’t do that.”

Agatha resists the wide smile threatening to make itself obvious on her face, but the corners of her mouth turn up as she glances around the main area of the cabin. “Good to know.”

She doesn’t notice Natasha stopping in her tracks, Agatha’s eyes are focused on setting luggage in an easily-accessible place for everyone to put away in their own sleeping areas. She does, however, turn her head after Natasha says with that damn smirk in her voice, “I shouldn’t be egging this on given her emotional state, but you know she has a crush on you, right? I mean, yes, she clearly feels safe with you - but she’s also into you. A lot.”

Agatha offers a wry smile back, and sighs softly as she meets Natasha’s gaze. “I’m not entirely sure about that.”

Natasha’s smirk fades into a genuine, small smile, and she leans against a support post. “Agatha, I know I miss things with Wanda thanks to distance, but she’s also been a part of my life for nearly ten years. I helped raise her. I noticed the fact that she wasn’t completely into men before she did. And the way she looks at you, the way she’s talked about you…whether she’s still trying to fight it or she’s embraced it, she is very into you. I don’t know if that’s reciprocated, but you need to know.”

Agatha runs a hand through her own hair, looking away for a second as she thinks. When she speaks, it’s quiet, but sincere.

“I’ve felt something towards her since the first time she looked at me. I’ll just say that. But…one, I would think you’d be the last person in her life to encourage her to start something with a professor at the university she goes to…”

“Normally, yes, but as a private investigator who deals with a lot of pathological liars and people with ulterior motives, you have none. And your criminal record is spotless.”

Agatha blinks. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you checked, and your take is refreshing. But that’s not the point. My second point is that given my position, I won’t do anything that could be perceived as taking advantage of a vulnerable student. And I’m not going to just ask her out or make some kind of move when she’s going through all of this. She isn’t ready, and I’m afraid it would be detrimental in the long run. She needs a friend right now. I’m willing to be that friend. I’d honestly prefer if she makes that first move, when she’s ready. And if that doesn’t come? Well, I’m fine with being the best friend she could have. Even if she does have those feelings, if she asked now…I’m afraid I’d have to tell her we should wait on it. I don’t think it would be good for her yet, and all I want is what’s best for her.”

She takes in a slow breath after she finishes speaking, watching Natasha carefully. The redhead seems stunned for a minute, looking vaguely to the side and thinking. But her face finally breaks into a pleased grin, and her deep emerald eyes light up. “I knew I liked you. No matter what, you’re with us now.”

Agatha just smiles back, relieved.

“Soooooo,” Yelena drawls, relocating her accent playfully as she bats her eyelashes. “Your new friend is that hot and you didn’t bother to tell us?”

“Lena!” Wanda hisses with a groan, swatting her arm. “Keep your voice down! She’s just a friend!”

Yelena smirks, reaching up to boop the end of Wanda’s nose. “Then why are you blushing, sestra? She likes you too, you know.”

“She does,” Kate adds helpfully, and Wanda rolls her eyes to the taller girl. Kate is usually more likely to side with Wanda, in spite of being Yelena’s best friend. But apparently, that’s not true today.

“Not you too, Katie. How would you know that? Do you guys have a secret group chat she’s saying all of this in?” Wanda scoffs, then pauses as both girls freeze for a second. “Wait, do you?”

“Well…” Kate draws the word out. “We do kind of have a group chat.”

“But she hasn’t said anything about this,” Yelena adds quickly.

“Right,” Kate nods. “Nat literally put us in one when Agatha asked her about our spring break. They kind of planned all of this. You needed the break, and we wanted to meet her.”

“…Agatha helped plan this?” Wanda confirms, just above a whisper. Why would she do that?

“Babe. This whole thing was her idea.” Kate reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. “She texted Nat, Nat created the group chat, we fine-tuned the planning.”

Wanda looks down, the new information making her breath catch. “Why…why would she volunteer herself for something like this? She could literally have gotten a week off from all of this, and she decided to put us all together. Why?”

“Because, just from what little I’ve seen of you two together, she’s into you, not to mention she cares about you and is trying to help you get through all this shit,” Yelena reiterates, grinning. “Wanda, I know the sharp eyes. We both do. That’s literally so similar to how Tasha looks at people she doesn’t trust - but with Agatha, it’s just this subtle thing like she’s always observing, always perceiving or some shit. Probably how she’s figured you out so fast. But when she looked at you a few minutes ago, sestra, her eyes got all soft. And it’s only with you so far. You soften the edges.”

She stops, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Huh. Not bad. Maybe I should major in psychology instead.”

“Lena,” Wanda groans, dropping her head to her sister’s shoulder. Her cheeks are burning again, and she peeks around her hair at Kate, who’s smirking at her knowingly. “You kind of suck, you know that?”

“But you loved me first,” Yelena sing-songs into her ear, swaying them both. “You only said it to Tasha first because I wasn’t in the room.”

“At best, you’d have gotten it as a two for one special if you’d been in the room,” Wanda grumbles, and Kate snickers. Wanda doesn’t have to look up to feel the glare Yelena sends her.

“Bishop, you’re supposed to back me up! Suka.”

“Nah, you walked right into that one. And I’m an only child, so I don’t really have a reference point on sibling fairness.” Kate’s voice is sweet, too sweet, and Wanda giggles.

“You poor thing. You got peace and quiet on the rare occasion Eleanor wasn’t being a bitch, and you chose to spend your peace on having to endure whatever the hell our sibling dynamic is? Are you sure you’re okay, honey?” She picks her head up and pouts mockingly at Kate, who wastes no time flipping her off and cackling. Her dark eyes grow unbelievably fond, and she leans in to snag Wanda around the waist and hug her again.

“I missed you so much. You. This. Us. I’m glad you agreed to do this.” Her voice is soft but somehow shaky, as if she’s thinly concealing emotion. Wanda doesn’t respond initially, but the wave of guilt threatens to crash over her.

They’ve been worried.

They shouldn’t be.

She has to do better. It’s still not good enough.

(Or you just have to get them off your back.)

She could say a lot of things right now, but deflecting feels easiest.

“I missed you too,” she murmurs back, squeezing Kate just a little tighter before pulling back and switching to a stage whisper. “But we should go inside. I don’t wholly trust the ‘adults’ to not set something on fire for the hell of it.”

She rolls her eyes theatrically, and Yelena cackles, flipping her braid over her shoulder. She starts moving towards the cabin slowly, looking back over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure Tasha knows how you feel, Wandsy. I want to see how it ends.”

Wanda lets out an exaggerated gasp and takes off after Yelena. “Don’t you dare!” Before Yelena makes it to the walkway, Wanda’s on her back, arms wrapped around her little sister’s neck. “Take it back!”

Yelena grunts, but she’s giggling and trying to shake Wanda off. “Get off, sestra, you’ve got like four inches of height on me! I’m gonna collapse!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Wanda huffs, squealing as Yelena reaches around to poke at her ribs. Kate’s behind them, laughing hysterically. None of the three hear the front door open, nor do they notice Natasha standing in the doorframe with a grin on her face.

“Children!” she calls, and all three girls turn to look at her with matching grins. “Are you coming inside? I don’t think the cabin owners would be incredibly fond of modifying the driveway into a wrestling ring.”

“You’re such a mom,” Yelena dismisses, but Wanda slides off her back as soon as Agatha pops out behind Natasha. The younger woman flushes at the amused smirk on her friend’s face, and hurries up the walkway. She slips past Natasha, leaning over to peck her cheek as she does, and follows Agatha into the cabin.

Agatha is clearly not expecting Wanda to reach for her wrist, and she turns. Wanda catches up, leans in, and throws her arms around Agatha’s neck. Agatha startles, almost imperceptibly, for a fraction of a second, before smiling and hugging back.

Impulsively, Wanda pulls back just enough to turn her head, pressing her lips to Agatha’s cheek in a soft peck. “Thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to, but you did. And you have no idea how grateful I am that you’re here with me.”

Agatha’s breath catches, before she sighs quietly, squeezing Wanda’s waist a little tighter. “Anything you need, sweetheart.”

They miss the raised eyebrows and knowing grins exchanged between Natasha, Yelena, and Kate…but maybe that’s a good thing.

Chapter Text

They’ve been in the Poconos Mountains for less than two hours, in this cabin for maybe one, and Wanda already wants to hide under the table. She isn’t, of course, because she’s a grown woman and hiding under the table is juvenile. They chose their sleeping spaces a little bit ago, already put away their luggage, and are now relaxing in the living room. She’s not going to hide.

But fuck, somehow this day is overstimulating as hell.

Wanda loves her sisters, Kate included. Wanda adores Agatha, more than as a friend, but she’s not going to be admitting it to anyone this trip. She loves feeding off Yelena’s chaos-emulating energy, hearing Kate’s unexpected yet perfect quips, watching Natasha pretend to be the cool adult in the room while smirking and thinly hiding her amusement. She even loves how Agatha is not just soaking everything in, but seems to be taking it in stride and blending so easily with their little group. It helps that Natasha thinks highly of her, sure, but Agatha has successfully countered humor from both Yelena and Kate too. And the younger girls seem to be eating it up.

Wanda loves them, truly. But it’s…a lot right now. Maybe it’s because they just got here, and she’s tired from the trip, and it’s somewhere new. Maybe it’s the fact that she always feels grimy and disgusting after traveling by car, even if she showered before leaving. Maybe she needs to act on her stomach growling quietly but pointedly at her, though she doesn’t want to given the unfamiliarity of everything.

Whatever it is, she just wants a few minutes to herself. Just for a bit. Maybe a shower and a micro-nap. At the very least, Wanda would deeply appreciate a few minutes of quieter conversation.

Whatever it is, Wanda’s voice feels heavy, like it tends to do sometimes. Her mouth feels concrete-sealed shut. The world is swimming around her, and some pitches in the laughter around her are entirely too shrill right now. It’s all she can do to not slap her hands over her ears - wouldn’t that draw attention to herself.

“- and then you wouldn’t fucking believe -”

“It’s Alexei, of course I’d believe it!”

“Does your father always shout in Russian when he’s drunk and excited, Yelena?”

“Sometimes it’s in English, but it’s also frequently a really weird hybrid of the two and it’s confusing. You learn to live with it!”

“Wanda?”

Natasha is sitting beside her. How did she not notice Natasha sitting next to her? She’s been watching the entire room from her perch, curled up on a window seat overlooking the driveway. She should have seen Natasha coming.

Well, when you’re being dramatic, you stop paying attention to anyone but yourself. That’s how you’ve missed that they’re conspiring about you, trying to force you to -

Shut UP.

Why? It’s just going to be more unpleasant if your mind is too quiet.

STOP.

“Hey, kiddo. You with me?” Natasha’s voice is low, steady, even, and her hand is gentle but firm on Wanda’s knee. One soft squeeze, a slow one, starts to pull Wanda to her body again. “Come on, malyshka, I’m right here.”

One more gentle squeeze, then a release, then repeat. Natasha seems to be following a very slow rhythm and rhyme with the squeezes, and Wanda vaguely remembers this being something they’d discovered worked when Wanda was fifteen. 

She’d been struggling to soothe her own emotions without self-destructing. Natasha had started giving gentle squeezes, in a sort of rhythm, and discovered it worked perfectly. Natasha had looked it up and suggested that maybe Wanda had sensory needs that weren’t being addressed - be it from an inherent neurodivergence or the complexity of her traumatic past, they couldn’t say, but the deeper pressure worked to ground Wanda back to reality. It hadn’t helped with her inability to speak when she’s overwhelmed, but thanks to the Bartons, the entire Shostakov household was fluent in sign language. The twins picked it up quickly, already knowing three other languages anyway, and they found that it worked perfectly when Wanda’s voice was too difficult to find.

Wanda doesn’t always have these issues now, or she can usually power through them…but sometimes, she can’t hold out as well.

Her eyes meet Natasha’s, then look back down. She’s more alert now, but the noise is still painful. Too much, she signs, with small motions so as not to draw attention to herself. Too loud. Not used to this anymore. Ears hurt, really tired. Feel disgusting. Road trips make me feel dirty. Not the fun kind.

She pauses, purses her lips, brows creased, before she reluctantly admits, Kind of hungry, too. But scared.

She drops her hands back to her lap and looks up at her sister, who wraps an arm around Wanda and pulls her against Natasha’s side. “Did you bring earplugs? I think I have my extra pair of Loops with me if you need them.”

No, I’m a quiet moment away from a nap. Would you be upset if I go lie down? You guys can pick dinner. I don’t care. Wanda smiles weakly at her sister, and Natasha sighs and kisses the side of her head.

“Not mad at you, baby. Not mad at anyone, just want you to be okay. Go take a nap. I’ll handle these psychos.”

Wanda nods, signing thank you as she stands up. She tries to stay along the wall, less noticeable, less likely to make a scene if she walks out this way. She doesn’t think she’s going to make it without Yelena paying attention to her, but she’s pleased to discover she can, and her headphones are over her ears in a matter of moments. They’re playing some weird sound waves playlist Wanda stumbled across a couple of days ago, because for some reason it actually does help her sleep (she tries to tell herself nightmares don’t count against her sleep). She slips under the simple white covers of this surprisingly comfortable little double bed, and she’s nearly asleep before she can process much else.

Agatha notices Wanda’s exit, but she tries to pretend she doesn’t. Her eyes flit over to Natasha, signing what happened. Natasha actually looks pleased that Agatha can sign as well, and responds overstimulated and really tired.

Not surprised. Trip was long. And she’s usually not around a lot of other people outside of work and class, even if it is us. I’ve suspected sensory issues with her for a while now, but I guess this confirms it. She doesn’t seem to be too willing to talk about it, and she seems like she tries to ignore it.

Natasha smiles grimly. Yeah, she’s always had sensitivities. She got really good at playing them off, or at working around them, living with us, but this is unfamiliar now. She’s not used to it anymore.

Agatha frowns back. She’s only had a bottle of juice today, and water, and coffee. Like, one of the juices that’s basically a smoothie. I tried to get her to eat more, but she didn’t want to.

She said we could order dinner and pick for her. So maybe that’s progress. She usually doesn’t let anyone pick for her too much.

Agatha starts to sign a response, but Yelena, who is lounging on a sofa with her head in Kate’s lap, finally notices that she’s gone quiet. Her eyes light up when she realizes that Agatha is communicating nonverbally with Natasha. “You can sign?”

“For the most part,” Agatha smiles softly back. “Rio had a few hard of hearing relatives. Between that and the constant Spanish - various dialects, too - I picked up a few things.”

Natasha smirks and raises her eyebrows. “Why do I feel like you learn new languages for your own enjoyment, too?”

Agatha grins now, amused at how well Natasha is already clocking her. “You caught me. The things I choose to learn in my free time almost always come in handy, too. Do we want to start thinking about dinner?”

Yelena sits up now, eyes gleaming. “Finally! I’m so hungry. Wait…where’s Wanda?”

Agatha looks to Natasha, who snorts and shakes her head. Her eyes are fond, even if she sounds like she’s chastising Kate and Yelena. “God, you guys are oblivious.”

Agatha decides to explain, as best she can. “She…got overstimulated with all the excitement, and she’s tired from the drive. I tried to get her to sleep in the guest room at mine last night, but she insisted she wanted to be sure she had everything packed. So I’m not entirely certain she slept much at all. She asked Nat if she could take a nap, and suggested that we pick the dinner options.”

Kate’s brow furrows, and Yelena looks down at her hands. Neither seem guilty, but concern would be an understatement. Kate speaks for both of them. “Has she been having issues with it again? She used to, on and off…when she’d get really upset or too tired and everything was too loud, she’d stop speaking. Like she physically couldn’t. But it seemed less frequent the last few times we’ve seen her.”

“I’d imagine it’s because she’s lived alone for a bit now,” Natasha interjects gently. “And none of us in this family are known for being quiet.”

“And then there’s me, the queen of complete silence,” Agatha jokes with a mischievous little grin, and Yelena snickers. 

“I like her,” she says to Kate, flashing a dazzling smile for a moment. “She keeps up with us. Do we want to volunteer anyone to check on Wanda in half an hour or so? I know she’s probably actually asleep, but we all know if no one wakes her up…”

“She may try to sleep through dinner instead of eating it,” Kate finishes softly, and Yelena meets her gaze with a hint of sadness in her eyes. Agatha sighs deeply, leaning forward in the armchair a little.

“She’s been trying to eat,” she says quietly. “It’s been…difficult, absolutely. Trying to eat, trying to stop other vices, trying not to shut down. Sometimes it seems like she really does want to do better, but there are days it feels like she just wants everyone off her back. But…I can see where she might try to sleep through dinner to avoid eating, if she’s already overwhelmed. Somebody should definitely check in with her after we order.”

That “someone,” as it turns out half an hour later, is Agatha herself. Yelena and Kate, as it happens, are playing on a gaming console that nobody realized had even been part of the cabin. Natasha has gone to shower “before the night gets too wild.” Agatha decides now is as good a time as ever to make sure her favorite girl is okay. Tentatively, she knocks once on Wanda’s door.

A muffled “come in” sounds from the other side, and Agatha wastes no time passing over the threshold. To her surprise, once her eyes adjust to the room’s dimness, Wanda is barely awake, only barely turning her head to look. She sits up with a shy, embarrassed smile on her face, and Agatha fights her heart fluttering.

“Why do you look like I caught you doing something bad, princess?” Agatha says the words before she actually thinks about them, the pet name slipping out, and not for the first time, she wonders if her mouth is going to get her killed one day. The accidental double entendre slipped out like second nature, and Agatha desperately tries to resist letting her face flush as she is now, too, grinning sheepishly.

Wanda giggles, then full on laughs for a second, before smiling genuinely now. “Does napping make me a bad girl?” Her eyes, once in the dim lighting, sparkle with mischief as she reaches over and the lamp light turns on. Agatha can’t resist the fondness in her own smile as she walks over to the side of the bed, sitting down beside Wanda’s legs.

“Not when it gets that pretty voice back, it doesn’t. You don’t have to hide around me, Wanda. You know that, right?”

Wanda looks away, eyes going a little anxious, but Agatha makes a noise of dissent and leans in. “I mean it. If you’re struggling with everything being too much, I don’t want you to think you have to pretend you’re fine. If talking hurts, or the words won’t come, respect your body and just tell me. I can sign too, you know. I will do whatever you need me to do. Just tell me next time. I have so much respect for you, sweet girl, and I want you to feel safe with me. Whatever that looks like.”

“I feel safe with you,” Wanda whispers, looking back up. The tips of her irises have an almost cerulean hue to them, but less saturated, more muted. Though she won’t admit it, at least not now, Agatha’s come to learn the hazel qualities to Wanda’s mostly-green eyes.  There’s probably a scientific explanation that makes it a little more straightforward, but her eyes look like this, almost a blue-green, when her vulnerability is out to play. “I’ve felt safe with you since I met you. I didn’t know it then. But that - I know it’s supposed to be the real me or whatever, but it’s a really difficult side of me to show. Letting go that way. I don’t know if I can sometimes. Even though it’s exhausting, on top of trying to fix coping skills and deal with grief and have a life, I also have to pretend to be normal in conversation, at least to function. And it’s hard, because I’m messed up or whatever this is.”

“Darling, there’s nothing wrong with you,” Agatha murmurs, reaching in to tuck a piece of hair behind Wanda’s ear. “You are neurodivergent, to some capacity, or at least traumatized enough that your behaviors would mimic a neurodevelopmental difference. You know that, don’t you? I don’t mean to armchair psychology, I’ve just unfortunately known a lot of -”

“Armchair psychology is not a verb,” Wanda chuckles, “but the rest of it was spot-on. Sometimes, when I feel more accepting of this, I say there’s nothing wrong with me. Except that I’m a pain in the ass.”

“You’re my favorite one,” Agatha retorts with a grin. Wanda pauses, tilts her head. Her eyes soften now, back to their green, and her lips turn up a little.

“I’m glad you came with us,” she says, and means it. And seemingly out of nowhere, her hand is on Agatha’s face, slender fingers pushing a loose strand from her braid out of the way, the way Agatha does to her so frequently. The older woman’s breath hitches, but she huffs to play it off. Wanda’s eyebrows furrow, and she scrunches her nose playfully. “I mean it. The girls told me you had originally planned on not being part of it. But this wouldn’t be the same without you. I…I like seeing you with my family.”

Agatha feels her heart melt at the sentiment, and before she can think about it again, she leans in and kisses Wanda’s forehead, right below her hairline. The younger woman closes her eyes and exhales, smiling at the action.

“I’m glad I came with you, too,” Agatha murmurs back. “I wasn’t sure if you really would want me along, honestly, for as much time as we spend together these days. But I’m glad Nat told me I wasn’t allowed to stay home. I know it’s been…a lot lately, and I love seeing you a little more at ease. Besides…your family is interesting. Definitely not a dull moment so far.”

“I’m sorry to have been at my worst so much lately, and that it’s most of what you’ve seen,” Wanda replies quietly, looking down at the blanket she’s toying with between her fingers. “I’m trying. It sucks but I’m trying.”

“The question is - are you trying for yourself, because you deserve better than to torture yourself? Or are you just trying so we’ll all stop worrying?” Agatha knows the call-out could be taken harshly, and she winces even as she tries to soften the words. But thankfully, Wanda doesn’t seem to be so phased by it…she just sighs, shoulder sagging a bit.

“If I tell you I’m not sure, is that a passable answer? Because sometimes it feels like it’s both, or just one, or the other. It changes by the day. I don’t love it, but that’s the truth I have right now. I want…to feel better, to do better, to not make you guys worry. But it’s all a mix of why. Does that make sense?”

Agatha bites her lip, fighting the urge to abruptly pull her young friend into a hug - Wanda’s eyes look so tired, but not in the sense of needing sleep. Agatha just wants to wrap her up, comfort her, take this away because it’s so obvious Wanda is struggling with healing. She’s so blatantly unsure of whether she wants to keep going, but the other four women in this house are so afraid to lose her.

Instead, she nods and holds herself back. “It’s completely logical, honey. Especially with how long you’ve had to fight with this. But even if you aren’t sure of your motivation, Wanda…everyone on this trip loves you more than they can put into words. All of us. And we’re not just going to stop worrying - it’s part of life. Because we love you as much as we do.”

She leans in again, pressing her forehead against Wanda’s and making the younger woman giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows playfully. “Also, darling, I still see enough of your joy to enjoy it. It was rare at first, and it’s still a little less frequent than I’d prefer…but that bright, pretty smile and that lovely little laugh when you’re actually happy? Honey, those moments are golden. And they tell me that we still have a chance at seeing you like that more often.”

Wanda is silent, but her eyes speak volumes in their kaleidoscopic changes - the bluish hue to the outside of her irises is back, but she’s looking at Agatha like she wants something more. And god, if Agatha had less restraint, she’d be surging forward to capture those perfect lips, telling Wanda without words just how much she wants to love this girl and give her the world. But she knows better, knows Wanda isn’t ready for this, so for the moment they sit in a comfortable silence loaded with tension - but the right kind, simmering with love and trust and comfort.

“Can I ask you something?” the redhead eventually asks, her voice quiet. Agatha hums in confirmation, and Wanda blurts out, “Why me?”

“You know the answer to that, sweetheart. I told you.”

“You told me you wanted to help,” Wanda corrects. “But I can’t be the only college student barely surviving, you know? The only one who needs guidance, supposedly.”

Agatha sighs, reaching up to cup Wanda’s face again. “Do you believe in connections being meant to happen?”

“Kind of…I was a twin. And I guess it would make sense that I was meant to be with Nat and Lena and Kate even if the way I got there sucked.”

“Right,” Agatha affirms, drawing in a slightly unsteady breath before continuing. “Darling, I’m going to say this as plainly as I can without sounding weird - the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I was connected to you somehow. Like the universe or what the fuck ever the guiding forces are tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘she’s supposed to be in your life, and you’re supposed to help each other, talk to her,’ and it all just fell into place from there. That’s probably why I seemed a little too forward for what you were used to.”

“It makes sense.” Wanda looks like she wants to say more, and her eyes are searching Agatha’s face with a look that says more than her words could. But a muffled thump sounds from the living room, and the duo can hear Natasha chastising a laughing Yelena and Kate to put the game up for now.

“Such a mom, Tasha!” Yelena shouts, and Kate snickers. 

“Lena, your sister could kill us in our sleep, don’t piss her off when the food is less than a mile away and none of us have eaten in hours!”

Wanda rolls her eyes and smirks. “And…that’s what living with these three is like. Well…sort of. Kate didn’t live with us; she just rarely went home if her mother actually let her come to our house. It’s rarely quiet with this group.”

Agatha smiles at her, reaching in to brush her nose against Wanda’s affectionately. “But they love you, darling girl. We all do. And we’re here to make sure that we all have a good week out here. Let’s go see what we can do to help with dinner once it’s delivered, yeah?”

She stands up and starts to walk out, but as she makes it to the door, a hand on her arm stops her. Wanda then wraps her arms around Agatha’s waist from behind, resting her head against the older woman’s back and listening to her heart. Agatha huffs softly, reaching down to hold Wanda’s arms in place and breathing deeply.

“Can we go stargazing at some point this week?” Wanda asks timidly, almost as if she’s afraid she’ll be mocked.

Agatha grins to herself, squeezing her friend’s arms just a bit tighter. “Even if it’s just you and me, we can go every night if you want.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything else, but the tightening of her grip around Agatha’s waist and the contented sigh are thanks enough.

Chapter Text

Wanda wakes up feeling better than she has in weeks.

To her complete and utter shock, Wanda also awakens to the faint sound of rock music, at a low volume but still audible, thumping in the cabin’s main area. And naturally, the realization makes her smile…just a little. It might be what’s contributing to her good mood.

It’s day two of the spring break trip, and if there’s hard rock playing in the morning, Natasha’s in charge of breakfast. If Natasha’s in charge of breakfast, and hard rock is playing…it’s an invitation. For her.

They just got to this cabin yesterday. If there’s food to cook, Natasha left at some point last night or this morning to buy groceries. She’ll probably claim it’s “to save us from eating out every night we’re here,” but she’ll probably also toss Wanda a subtle wink and a half-smile. Wanda knows by now. And she’s not going to refuse an offer for one of her favorite bonding activities with her sister.

As she rapidly strips her sleep clothes and tosses on a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans, the memory of how this little experience started makes her heart sing, even if there’s still a little bit of sorrow to it.

Nearly eight years ago…

Wanda tries not to make too much noise, when she has her nightmares and wakes up in a cold sweat. It’s gotten to the point that she isn’t sure if she’s sleeping, but to be completely frank, she hasn’t slept well for three years. If she’s too deeply asleep when the nightmare hits, she won’t be able to control herself.

In Wanda’s three years as a foster kid, she’s unfortunately come to learn that nightmares are dangerous. If she awakens screaming, someone will hear. If someone wakes up and hears, there’s about a ninety-percent chance of that someone coming to her sleeping space, irritated that she woke them. Depending on the home, catching someone’s wrath in the middle of the night is not a pleasant experience.

So Wanda stays quiet, even to her own detriment, because it’s easier to be exhausted than bruised - bruises require lies to keep her safe. Wanda’s not good at lying.

She suspects this home may be different, but she still doesn’t want them to know how bad it is. Alexei and Melina are really nice, and Natasha and Yelena are quick-witted and gentle, protective sisters through and through. Pietro is smitten with the Shostakovs, with his big sister and his “baby” sister now. He’s been begging Pepper to let them stay here forever. Pepper just smiles that same way she did when she brought the kids presents last year - like she knows something they don’t, and she knows they’ll love it when they hear the news.

Pepper always asks Wanda if she’d like to stay here. She’s figured out that she has to wait until they’re alone to actually get an answer from the girl - frequently torn between not wanting to step on toes and being afraid to say the wrong thing, Wanda shuts down quickly if there are others present.

Wanda always says she isn’t sure. If Pietro is happy, she can adjust. Alexei and Melina are nice. Natasha is really cool but kind of scary, but not mean. Yelena is a marshmallow and loves to cuddle and be outside, and she’s in the group right below Wanda’s at dance, so they have a lot of classes together. Wanda just wants to stay in one place for a while.

But lately, Natasha has started to press in. Not vocally. Not even verbally. But her eyes - they seem to notice something in Wanda that not even Pietro picks up on sometimes. She’s close, too close to seeing Wanda - really seeing her, seeing the pain, the terror, the damage, the brokenness. It’s safer if she doesn’t. She’s safer if she never sees Wanda’s true form.

So when she wakes up, almost a year into living at this foster home, so close to turning fourteen now, she tries to be quiet. She wasn’t fully asleep anyway - she was half-conscious, and all she saw was the accident, the horrors since. But when she wakes, to her surprise, the house isn’t quiet.

A glance at her alarm clock shows that it’s a little after six. It’s Saturday morning in late summer, nobody has extracurriculars, nobody has work. Why is there music playing?

She shouldn’t get up. But she wants to, so she does. With caution and a little trepidation, she pads down the hall, down the stairs, and rounds the corner. She’s following the sounds of Breaking Benjamin, which is surprising, because she hasn’t yet been to a foster home that allows her current preferred genre of music. And maybe that’s a silly thing to observe, but Wanda is, after all, a bit sleep-deprived.

She stops dead just shy of the kitchen doorway, smelling the faintest notes of coffee…and maybe something sweet?

Natasha. Why is Natasha, a seventeen-year-old almost-high school senior who loves her weekends, awake at six a.m. on a Saturday, and why is she cooking breakfast? It’s honestly absurd, and for a moment Wanda wants to giggle, but who the hell is she to judge how someone else handles being awake? So she stays quiet, but Natasha has a sixth sense. So of course Natasha notices Wanda standing in the doorway, half-smiling and looking shyly at her.

“Hey, you. Couldn’t sleep in, huh?” Natasha’s voice, still somewhat sleepy, is raspy, but it’s full of nothing but that same teasing, gentle, coaxing lilt that somehow disables Wanda’s defenses. The music has switched, an older Three Days Grace track playing now, and Wanda closes her eyes for a moment as the knot in her chest, curiously, loosens a little bit.

Natasha tilts her head and leans in a little bit, smiling. “If I’d have known you could be coaxed out of your room after your nightmares with some angsty lyrics and heavy guitars, I’d have been blasting a lot sooner. Lena and the parents sleep through this shit by now, I’ve done this for years, and I’m convinced Piet would sleep through a hurricane.”

Wanda giggles, sleepily, ignoring the pang of being caught. “He probably would sleep through being thrown into a volcano, honestly, but I’ve never been close enough to test the theory.”

“Wanda!” Natasha rasps, trying to sound like she’s scolding the younger girl and failing miserably. She snickers. “You’re feisty in the morning. Want to help me make breakfast for the human vacuums who are still sleeping?”

Wanda hesitates, gripping the doorframe as she seems to shrink back, eyes dropping to the floor. Natasha holds out a hand, not too close, just an offering that Wanda is welcome to refuse.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m not going to be upset either way. I don’t always get to spend as much time with you as I’d like, honey. You’re a pretty great kid, and I want to spend more time with you. I’m not going to force you to eat anything if you don’t want to, although I’m here if you think you can handle it and I will be with you every step of the way. You don’t have to answer right now, but will you trust me on this?”

History screams at her to run, to haul ass back to her own room and hide under the blankets. To wait until everyone is busy and punish herself for being so curious, for choosing to say anything to Natasha. History tells her that people leave when she trusts them, and only try to hold onto her when she doesn’t trust them…so they can use her. 

Except Pietro.

But sometimes, history doesn’t repeat, she realizes.

She steps forward, and takes Natasha’s hand. 

Her reply is soft, such a low whisper that she’s surprised the older girl can hear it. But Natasha does. She always catches everything. And she smiles as she hears it.

“I can try.”

“That’s my girl,” Natasha whispers back, and Wanda looks up and grins shyly, against her better judgment. 

“You know, I’d have never pinned you as someone to appreciate the music I listen to,” Wanda says softly as she follows Natasha into the kitchen. The older ginger turns to her and grins back, ruffling Wanda’s still-tousled hair.

“I listen to it too, doll. I promise you don’t outgrow it. Even if it’s not always the healthiest choice to have heavy guitars and the occasional fucked-up lyric playing when your head is all messed up, it’s grounding. Makes you feel…”

“Less alone,” Wanda offers up as she starts to help stir waffle batter, and Natasha scrunches her nose, pleased at the recognition. “Do you do this a lot?”

“Just when I have a bad night of sleep, if I’m honest. The music helps ground me back to myself after something surfaces that is less than pleasant to remember.” The honesty is refreshing, and Wanda starts to feel her walls crumble a little bit. “It’s not all hard rock. Somehow, the station loops in the occasional dose of hip hop too. But I like it. Switches things up.”

A few minutes into preparing ingredients, Natasha leans in a bit, softening. “Do you want to talk about it? What scared you so badly that you actually got out of bed this time instead of trying to hide the nightmare from everyone?”

Wanda sighs, shoulders sagging. Natasha pulls her into a gentle, grounding hug, and Wanda half-smiles again as she feels her foster sister plant a firm kiss on the top of her head. “I just heard music when I woke up.”

“But it’s not the first time you’ve woken up, is it?” Natasha presses softly. “You don’t sleep well, honey. You don’t have to tell me what your nightmares are about, but I’m here.”

Wanda takes a shaky breath. She exhales slowly before she looks up at Natasha, still being held, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I…everything, Nat. It’s everything. There’s…I can’t talk about it yet. But it hurts…it hurts all the time. And I’m so tired. I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep at night because it all comes back down on me. It feels like it’s going to kill me whether I fight back or not. I’m just so tired.”

She buries her face in her foster sister’s shoulder, and Natasha’s hand comes to the back of her neck, fingers combing through her hair. The tears have started to fall now, soaking Natasha’s shirt, and Wanda curses how weak she is. She curses her inability to stop Natasha from tearing down her defenses, her inability to hold back and fight trusting someone new when that someone offers the promise of safety. “Everything hurts, and I don’t want it to be like this. But I don’t know how to make it stop, not in a way that doesn’t hurt me. I’m so tired, Tasha…”

She vaguely registers moisture dripping onto the crown of her head, and realizes that Natasha is crying too. “You don’t deserve to have been hurt the way you have. You don’t deserve to be in so much pain, Wanda. And I will never stop telling you that you deserve to heal and feel safe.”

Natasha takes a shaky breath. “I’m here. I have the dreams too. They’ve gotten better with time, but I’ve had more of that time than you have yet. This is what I do. I don’t know why it helps, but it does. You are always welcome in this space. I’m not going to judge anything you say here. We’ve both been through some shit, but we can get through the aftermath together. Does that sound like a good plan?”

“You make it sound like a job,” Wanda mumbles, and Natasha chuckles and hugs her tighter.

“It’s a lot of work. But it’s nice to not be alone doing it. You shouldn’t have to do this alone. I’m right here.”

Wanda’s tears have subsided a bit, and she pulls back with a smile. “Then I guess I’ll be around.”

Years later, when they’re older, Wanda still knows it’s for her. And that’s one of the few times her brain will be quiet long enough to let her eat without feeling guilty, even when she’s actually eating and doing okay.

If Natasha hasn’t coaxed her out of a nightmare and back to sleep, there’s always music thumping in the kitchen before anyone else is awake. And Wanda is cool with that.

Present Day:

“Rough night?” Wanda says softly as she steps into the common area. 

Natasha turns, spots Wanda, and smiles. “Not too much, just felt restless after waking up the third time. Wondered if you needed to jam and help with breakfast today - for the hell of it.”

To her surprise, Natasha isn’t alone. Agatha is seated in an armchair, nursing a steaming cup of black coffee, likely with maybe two sugar cubes. She wrinkles her nose and grins at Wanda.

“Good morning, pretty girl. Did you sleep?”

Wanda smiles at her, heart fluttering. “Actually, not too bad. Couple rough dreams, but nothing too bad. Just…heard the call and my instincts kicked in.”

“Nat was just telling me about that,” Agatha replies cheerfully, smiling behind her mug. “I can appreciate this as a coping mechanism, hun. I wasn’t sure, but I am now, and I think it’s great if it works.”

“To be fair, she’s also a Swiftie,” Nat drawls, a wide mischievous smirk on her lips. Wanda narrows her eyes, grinning right back.

“So are you, you ass!”

Agatha chuckles as she sets her mug down, and the others turn to look at her. “I like the versatility, girls. But you might want to check the waffle iron, it turned green a second ago.”

Natasha tries to look casual, not panicked, as she turns to the waffle iron, giving Wanda the time to walk into the kitchen and wash her hands in the sink, “What do you need help with, Tasha?”

As Wanda settles into helping Natasha make breakfast, she can feel Agatha’s appraising eyes follow her movements. And every time she turns to look at her friend, the secretive little smile she gets in response makes her heart skip beats…just a little. She tries to ignore the smirk on Natasha’s face, choosing to stir batter and sing softly along to the playlist, which Natasha joins in on soon after. She can still feel Agatha’s eyes on her, but she isn’t expecting to hear her best friend’s voice floating through the main area as well, meeting the other two in a decent harmony. 

As the song ends, Wanda turns her head and grins at Agatha, scrunching her nose. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

The older woman grins back, and Wanda’s stomach flips. “I’m full of surprises, doll. And hidden talents.”

Was that…

Does she mean that the way it sounds?

Regardless, the implication sends an odd warmth to her abdomen, and she huffs out a laugh before turning back to her scrambling of a good amount of eggs. But she can’t fight her rising blush very well, so she ducks her head, allowing some of her hair to curtain her face, and bites her lower lip to compose herself.

Natasha notices, because why wouldn’t she, though she at least has the decency to sidle over to Wanda and speak quietly enough to not be heard across the room. “She definitely meant that exactly how it sounded to you, babe. I told you,” and she draws out the last sentence, in a low sing-song voice, earning a slightly facetious glare from Wanda.

“She’s just being playful, this is how we are,” Wanda argues, but she knows it’s weak as the words leave her lips. They do play this way, but both know it could be meant as flirtation below the surface.

Natasha’s teasing smirk and sharp gaze soften, and she nudges her sister. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to admit it. You don’t have to do anything about it yet - nothing would be expected. But it’s okay to just admit something is there, for both of you.”

Wanda sighs, reaching over to turn the burner off. “Even if you might be right. It’s not…it’s not the right time. I’m too much for anyone right now, even if she does think of me like that. I’m not going to be a good partner for anyone.” The sharpness in her own voice scares her, but the words slip out anyway.

Natasha goes quiet, but the hell in Wanda’s mind decides it’s awake for the day.

You’ll never be a good partner for anyone, period. You will never be more than the daughter who should have died and the sister who should have saved her brother. Love is a luxury you aren’t allowed, and never will.

Her memories return to the last (and only) relationship she had. Never struck, but bruises from tight grips. Never held down and forced, but manipulated and coerced. Never forbidden from going places, but micromanaged and told she was wrong for doing anything he didn’t agree with.

“It’s not my fault you’re a traumatized wreck who doesn’t know how to love people. Nobody else would ever be able to deal with you.”

Wanda flinches, without even registering that she’s done so. Why can’t her own head just leave her alone once in a while? Why can she not just have a normal, carefree morning with people she loves more than anything in the world?

Why is she so fucking defective?

Her reverie is broken by long, slender hands resting on her waist, and the faint scent of violets. She vaguely realizes that it’s definitely not Natasha, but her startle is only slight at the moment, until she realizes it’s Agatha. The older woman is standing behind her, warm hands providing a grounding pressure at the curve of Wanda’s waist, thumbs moving in slow circles.

Natasha isn’t standing in the kitchen. Natasha is standing at the dining table, and she’s just set out plates and the smorgasbord that is breakfast. That makes zero sense, Wanda was just scrambling eggs -

“You spaced out for a minute,” Agatha murmurs into her ear, and Wanda sighs again. Of course she spaced out. “You okay?”

Wanda nods, though the tension in her muscles gives away that no, she’s not okay. Instead of speaking, she leans back into Agatha’s front, and allows the hands at her waist to wrap around her middle to embrace her instead. Agatha hums a little, leaning her head against the side of Wanda’s.

“You don’t have to hide the noise in your head from me, Wanda. And by the way…” her voice dips, just low enough for only Wanda to hear. “You aren’t too much. Stop telling yourself that you’re too much, or too broken.”

Wanda’s brain short-circuits, and she blinks twice, then three times. “You…heard all of that.”

“Mmm, no, not everything,” Agatha drawls softly, tightening her grip. “But I heard enough to know that I don’t want you to think you’re too damaged to be loved. However you want to take that.”

Without another word, she turns her head, presses her lips to Wanda’s cheek, and gives the younger woman a final squeeze before releasing her. With a playful wink, she saunters away, over to the dining space where she begins to help Natasha set the rest of the table. She leaves a rather stunned Wanda standing by the stovetop, blinking for just a few moments before turning to follow her.

With near-perfect timing, a tousled-looking Yelena steps into the living area, followed by an oddly put-together (at least at 8 in the morning) Kate a moment later. The two girls stop in the doorway, Yelena immediately beaming sleepily. “I thought I heard Shinedown an hour ago!”

“You could have gotten up and helped, sleepyhead,” Natasha teases with a little smirk, and Kate scoffs and dramatically feigns incredulity, hand on her chest.

“Yelena, out of bed before 8 on a holiday? Nat, you ask too much!”

Yelena shoots her a mock glare, before grinning back at Natasha. “For your information, this is a Wanda-and-Tasha specialty! I will not be interrupting tradition!” Her gaze turns fond and teasing as she smiles at Wanda. “This is how Tasha used to lure our little witch out of her little lair - rock ‘n’ roll and the waffle iron.”

A faint flush covers Wanda’s cheeks, she can feel it, and she rolls her eyes with a playful smirk as she speaks blithely. “What can I say, I’m a simple girl.”

“You? Simple? You’re a terrible liar, darling,” Agatha drawls, and the others burst into laughter as Wanda grins sheepishly. Then she sees it.

Agatha’s eyes. Agatha’s blue-gray, always sharp eyes. Wanda’s never noticed it before, but as those eyes land on her…they do soften, deepen. Yelena was right. The realization makes her cheeks burn, and she fixes her gaze on the table.

“So,” Kate yawns, “can we eat now? I want to do fun shit today, but not until I’ve had something in my system!” She wrinkles her nose, walking to the coffee maker, and Agatha reaches for Wanda’s hand.

“Come on, hot stuff. We’re going to be outside today. Nat found a really cool trail last night. You’ll need the energy.”

Chapter Text

Wanda hasn’t really been incredibly vulnerable in the day they’ve been in the mountains. Other than her overstimulation incident, she’s been the most pleasantly cheerful Agatha’s ever seen her. She hasn’t been in a state otherwise, but Agatha is absolutely enjoying this side of her favorite girl.

They’ve been out on a trail since late afternoon, after the morning was spent in town browsing shops. Natasha and Agatha had packed up a smaller picnic dinner before the group set off - Agatha had brought up Wanda’s ideas last night, and the others were instantly on board. Natasha had initially worried about her middle sister’s endurance; Wanda plays off her fatigue too often, but she’s only lying to herself.

But now, watching the three younger women laughing and talking animatedly up ahead, both Natasha and Agatha feel much more optimistic. Wanda only picked at her lunch, but she seems to be cheerful and keeping up with Kate and Yelena just fine.

Agatha definitely isn’t prepared for the trio to start singing, in unison, along to the music playing from Wanda’s phone. Agatha vaguely recognizes the song, but she can’t help but chuckle quietly.

When I'm away from you

I'm happier than ever

Wish I could explain it better

I wish it wasn't true…

In fairness, it’s Kate and Yelena who start singing first, and they both immediately look slyly at a mildly-amused Wanda. She rolls her eyes playfully before huffing out a laugh and singing the next section.

Give me a day or two

To think of something clever…

Kate and Yelena grin widely, shooting each other satisfied glances before continuing together in a surprisingly good three-part harmony with Wanda, who looks resigned yet not unhappy. 

To write myself a letter

To tell me what to do, mm-mm

Do you read my interviews?

Or do you skip my avenue? (My avenue)

When you (when you) said you were passing through

Was I even on your way?

Agatha’s heart flutters, and for a moment, she just watches. Wanda is in her element, all smiles now, and Agatha could observe it all day.

Beside Agatha, Natasha snorts quietly at the girls’ antics and chuckles for a moment, before her expression fades into a smile that is purely affection and amusement. She leans over and murmured sidelong to Agatha, “You saw the grins on those two, right? Little shits. They were really into learning to sing together at one point, the two younger ones had visions of stardom or something and Wanda just kind of went along with it. But she enjoyed every second, and they still burst into song randomly when we’re all together, if she’s in a good enough place at that moment. She’s…I missed this. She needed this. Everyone together. We all did.”

The smile on Agatha’s face feels softer than she’s ever known it to be. “I like this side of her. It feels like she’s safe. I’ve seen her when she’s comfortable and safe - a few times where she’s seemed to let go when we’re at home. Mine, I mean. But…she seems so different.”

“The girls can almost always bring this out with her,” Natasha explains with a laugh. “I want to help and protect everybody, but I also want everyone to be open so that we all know the others are safe. Wanda can play both sides of the fence, but generally if she’s the one struggling, I want to talk and work through it. Kate and Yelena don’t feel as able to help, so they take her mind off it for as long as they can. That way she’s not bottling it up and masking it, but she’s also not actively compounding the trauma and bad thoughts on herself either.”

Natasha bites her lip, and Agatha notices with a pang to the chest that her dark emerald eyes are glassy. “The fact that they’ve got her out here, in the open, actually singing and being willing to relax for a little while…it’s a welcome sight. It always is.”

“You’re worried quite a lot about her these days, aren’t you,” Agatha responds softly a moment later, and Natasha chokes out a strangled but low laugh.

“No shit.” Her voice is dry, bitter, unlike how Agatha has ever heard it.

Then, a moment later, Nat sighs. “Sorry. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about when she came into my life, how much she means to all of us now. I was starting to really feel like I was finally home, you know, all those years ago. But I also felt like something was still missing.” She inhales, but it’s shaky and broken, and she blinks hard as she looks away, almost playing it off like she’s catching her breath instead of fighting back tears. “That piece of my world clicked into place when we knew the twins would be with us forever. Yelena couldn’t articulate it, she was still so young, but she felt it too. They filled the little hole we still had in the family we’d made. Kate’s even said once or twice that she’s not sure where she’d be without the twins having come into our lives.”

Agatha releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, feeling the emotion in Nat’s voice. She tries to keep her voice calm and low. “You were all missing each other. They really did make a family out of you.”

“Something like that,” Natasha says roughly, her faint smile looking wilted and tired. “I loved those two faster than I wanted to admit. Yelena was always the tough one, wanted to get in the dirt and show the boys that she could play all their games but better, she got in trouble more than a few times for firing off derogatory Russian terms at a few of them - ”

“Absolutely nothing about that sentence is even remotely surprising,” Agatha drawls, earning a snort and genuine grin from Natasha.

“Oh, definitely not a surprise. But she loved so hard, still does. Very protective. Katie was just… always around when she moved a couple doors over from us, she loved being with us. Her mom’s a piece of shit. Long story. But…Wanda and Pietro, they came around when I was…sixteen, I think? I hadn’t been sixteen for long, and they had just come from an emergency placement. Something about running away from the last home, but no specifics. Pietro wouldn’t let Wanda out of his sight for weeks after they came in, but I believe Yelena got Pietro to warm up to her quickly because she was always trying to race with him, always trying to outrun him, always wanting to kick a ball around. One day, he fixed something on her bike, and I guess she forgot they hadn’t been with us for long…she just threw herself onto him and gave him a giant hug. And he melted.

“Wanda took another several months before she’d let anyone touch her. I mean, it was early summer before my senior year when she let me hug her without shaking like she was expecting me to snap on her or something. She felt everything, every emotion so much harder than anyone I’d known, but I loved what I could see of her personality, when it would sneak out from time to time. A quiet little half-smirk and a whisper of the absolute most entertaining comebacks, usually snarky, but it would be gone like it never happened in less than a second. She was finally starting to come out of her shell, just a bit, and trying to comply with pediatrics and Melina on eating better to catch up on growth. One day, the day we started our little tradition you saw, I finally got to talk to her about the fact that I knew she didn’t sleep. It got heavy, but she was open in a way I hadn’t seen. I started trying to go lie down with her when she’d have nightmares, especially if I couldn’t sleep either. If that didn’t work - we got up early, we jammed, we made breakfast for the whole house. And she was actually eating it. I was so fucking proud of her.

“We bonded in ways I never thought possible. Yelena was always my sister. I had known her since before the memories I blacked out. We didn’t have parents, but we had each other from the start. When Alexei and Melina broke through to Yelena, fairly early, I tried to stay guarded. But I saw her light up with them, and thought that maybe we were going to be okay. It took years - I had my own destructive coping mechanisms, I was angry, I argued back a lot - but a few years before the twins, I had finally settled and let myself have new connections. They wouldn’t take Yelena from me. Pietro clicked into place, but Wanda was that final step in telling my younger self that she would be in a good place at the end of all the hell.”

Natasha swipes absently at a stray tear, making Agatha realize with a pang that she’s got one on her cheek too. I’m just cold, she tries to justify in her head, but her mind just laughs at her. When Natasha speaks again, Agatha stops lying to herself.

“I can’t lose her too. Not now. Not…not for a really long time.”

“And we are doing everything we presently can to prevent that from happening, Nat. She’s doing so well right now. I know the transition back to campus is a concern, but seeing this side of her - we know it still exists. That’s good.” Agatha stops them both for a second, reaching out to squeeze Natasha’s shoulder lightly. “You guys bring her to life in a way I haven’t seen. She has you. And that’s not insignificant.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Natasha asks suddenly, a grin tugging the edge of her lip. “I mean, you have a terrifying understanding of this family. And I know you’re not a fed, I ran your background.”

Agatha barks out a laugh, then grows quiet as they resume walking, the girls now several yards ahead. “Natasha, I don’t want to see another family splinter. I can’t explain why. It’s probably something to do with my own history, whatever, either way I care about her. And you three now as well, whether you like it or not.”

Natasha smirks now. “You’re going to be my fucking sister-in-law at some point, so consider the feeling mutual.”

“We don’t know that, doll,” drawls Agatha with a roll of her eyes and a reciprocal smirk. “It’s so good to see her in her element, though. I love it. I never realized I was capable of looking at anyone else like this anymore - not since losing the only people who were keeping me afloat. I was terrified to even consider it. Even if nothing happens, I’m still shedding that fear every waking minute since I started choosing to try to be there for her.” 

“Sestra! By the time you and Agatha make it to where we’re going, it’ll be tomorrow! I’d like to eat dinner before we watch the stars, please!” Yelena’s voice drifts to them from several yards ahead, and the pair look at each other and chuckle. As they trudge forward and catch up, Wanda turns and grins at them both, and Agatha feels herself melt just a little bit more. 

“Gross,” Natasha murmurs beside her, apparently noticing the moment, and Agatha shoots her a playful glare before they fully catch up.

“Can I ask you a rather probing question?” 

For a change, Agatha can hear the barest tremor of nerves in her own voice, and curses inwardly. Natasha is a relatively candid woman, that much Agatha has gleaned from her, but she is also a watchful eye and somewhat of a guarded soul. At least, when it comes to her life - but to be fair, Agatha doesn’t even enjoy talking about her own fucked-up past, so who is she to judge? Natasha has been more open today, sure, but the lingering fear of fishing too hard for information still stings the back of Agatha’s mind.

Fortunately, Natasha seems not to notice the tremor, only listening with her ears. Her eyes are locked on the three younger women as they recline a few feet away. Yelena is telling a story, gesturing wildly with her hands, her heavily-faded accent bleeding through in dramatic moments. Kate is rolling her eyes, but Natasha’s lips are faintly curved into a smile at Wanda’s very genuine and bright laughter over Yelena’s antics. Agatha follows her gaze and feels herself melt again - just a little, before she catches herself.

“Depends on your definition of ‘probing,’” Natasha finally replies in a dry yet soft voice.

Agatha shifts her weight, picking up a twig off the ground and poking aimlessly at a leaf on the rock beside her before continuing. “How did you and Yelena end up with your parents? Wanda only ever has mentioned that they took the same legal path with keeping all of you. You have a Russian name, complete with the patronymic, and Yelena isn’t exactly an American name. Your parents are Russian, but from what you’ve said, they are American citizens too.”

Only now does Natasha turn her head, just faintly, and grin a little, eyes sparkling in the dimming sunset. “I’m impressed that you recognized the patronymic. It’s not like most people do.”

Agatha chuckles quietly, then tilts her head. “I’ve seen some things, Nat, which means I also saw you evade the question. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand, I just…”

“You want to figure out why Yelena and I don’t outwardly appear to be as fucked up as Wanda.” Natasha’s grin widens in mischief, and Agatha rolls her eyes as she laughs again. The fundamental differences between Natasha’s attempts to derail a conversation versus Wanda’s are subtle, but somehow also glaringly obvious. Wanda shuts down, changes the subject, shies away from the conversation. Natasha is blunt, flatly comedic, but doesn’t seem to be completely shutting down the conversation. It’s almost as if she’s testing the waters for pushback before she opens up.

Agatha decides to be gentle. “That isn’t even close to what I meant, dear, so just remember that you offered that sentiment. I understand that you two lived with your parents for a good bit longer than Wanda and her brother did, but with your name being what it is, I’d expect that you aren’t originally from the States. But again, you don’t have to share. I’m just…it’s a curiosity, mostly, and wanting to understand better.”

Nat’s eyes shift, and she looks out at her hands, fidgeting with them idly as they sit on her drawn-in knees. She’s quiet for a while, but Agatha waits patiently. Natasha has been a good friend even in this short time - Agatha can be patient.

At last, Natasha takes a deep breath. “Yelena and I were both born in Russia. Different parents, different circumstances, but we were sold into the same trafficking ring very early on. We were taken all over the place - but mostly here, or in our native country. I ended up being the one girl who took care of Yelena the most when she was with us, so she became my sister. I protected her as much as I could. We were here in the States when the ring was busted, and we were supposed to be sent back to Russia.”

“But you weren’t,” Agatha prods gently, and Natasha shakes her head.

“No. They tried to track down our parents - all of them were dead or in prison for life. We would have been placed in an orphanage. Alexei worked for the government at the time, he and Melina both, and they ended up being on the case when we were brought in. Alexei looked at us and saw two very scrawny, feisty little girls who, in spite of everything, had fight left in us. He and Melina couldn’t let us go back, knowing we’d be separated and alone. They emigrated here too, so they felt they could make sure we knew where we came from and still give us a life here. They talked to whoever they could, and I still don’t know how they did it. I didn’t care, back then. I didn’t trust them yet. I still thought men were evil and the women I’d known had been complicit.”

Agatha hesitates before asking, “How old were you?”

Natasha’s eyes find hers. “When we were rescued, I was eight. Yelena was three. I…didn’t remember my life before. And I was definitely the one they had trouble with, when Mom and Dad first took us in. It took…a solid two years before I stopped sleeping in the closet.”

Agatha blinks, hard. What the hell does Natasha mean by that? “Closet?”

Natasha looks back up at the stars, expression difficult to read. Her response is slow, measured. “When we were being… smuggled everywhere, so to speak…sometimes we slept wherever we could find space. Lots of crowded vans, small storage rooms, a few closets. They didn’t care enough about us to make sure we had good places to sleep. We were there to pass around, to make them money, and because we were kids, they seemed to feel less inclined to give us anything. When you hardly ever have a bed for several of your early years…you start to believe you aren’t meant to have comfort. I thought having a bed and my own room were a trick, at first. I slept in the closet when I couldn’t sleep. And for the first couple of years, that happened frequently. I’d have preferred to not give them an inkling of how bad my headspace was.”

Agatha looks out to the horizon, deep and colorful in its early twilight stage, and considers what she’s just learned. Though she schools her face into neutrality, her mind is reeling at the revelation she’s been given. 

“What changed?” She wants to smack her own forehead at how blunt the words sound when they leave her mouth. But Natasha doesn’t seem to catch the tone, and one corner of her lips tugs into a half-smile.

“Melina. She put me in every single sport or activity I showed interest in trying - within reason. She had this idea that letting me experience some of what I’d missed would help me feel safer. That helped, but not fully - not until she let me help her make breakfast a few times. I was sleeping in the bed then, and I felt better, but I still had constant nightmares. Yelena had her own room at the time, by then, so I started the breakfast thing one morning. And everyone loved it, and it was like Melina and Alexei knew that I was up early because I couldn’t sleep. So they always offered more support throughout the day, the quiet kind. Just kind of clicked from there that I was allowed to belong somewhere without being treated like I was subhuman.”

Agatha hums quietly, glancing back to the trio of younger women not far from them, as she ponders Natasha’s words. The group is still chatting, but they’ve relaxed a little - Kate has leaned her head on Wanda’s shoulder, and Wanda has pulled Yelena’s head into her lap and is absently playing with a loose strand of hair from her ponytail. They look content, at ease, as if this level of physical closeness isn’t remotely uncommon for them. Watching Yelena for a moment, she seems so… normal, even if Agatha is well aware of the frequent deception of outward appearances.

“Does Yelena remember anything about life before you were home?”

Natasha sighs, also watching the younger women. “Not vividly. She had…flashes, I guess you could say? Early on in our time with our parents, she was anxious but latched on quickly. But probably around the time she hit seven or eight, she had started to have nightmares. She says they were never specific, that it was always feelings and fear and little blips of moments she was too young to retain completely. She withdrew a little at that time, pulling back from everybody.”

“What did you do?” Agatha asks, and Natasha casts her a little smile before looking away again.

“Wasn’t me. I tried. But Alexei always has had a knack for breaking through to Yelena. She really is his daughter, in every sense but biology. He did everything he could, subtly, to remind her that he was always right beside her if she needed him. It took a few months, but she started to pull through. I believe Melina had her seeing a play therapist for a while, too, but Alexei’s support was really what she needed above everything. She knew I was there, I’d always been there. But they gave her more of the love she deserved, and without it I don’t know where we would be.”

Agatha feels her gaze soften, glancing at Yelena’s contented expression before lifting her eyes to find Wanda watching her. The younger woman tilts her head just a little, inquiring without speaking, and Agatha responds with a little shake of her own head and a soft smile. Wanda’s nose scrunches, and she smiles back with nothing but affection present. As Agatha lets out a breath, Natasha smiles again next to her, nudging Agatha’s shoulder.

“She really does seem different on this trip,” she murmurs, but not teasing as she is wont to do so often. “I have you to thank for that. She adores you, and I’m glad you came with us. I just…I hope we’re finally on the way up again.”

Agatha’s response is a simple, “So do I,” as she looks back at Natasha, and suddenly Nat’s eyes take on an impish glimmer. With Agatha’s eyes locked on her, Natasha stands up, stretches, then crosses the small space in two strides and plops down beside Yelena.

“Is this spot taken?” Natasha asks with a grin, immediately flopping herself down on top of Yelena’s reclining form. The blonde squeals and starts playfully swatting at her older sister.

“Get off me, you ass, your big fucking head is crushing me!”

“Says the one who headbutted David Harrison and broke his nose in eighth grade because he tried to hit on you for a third time after you told him no,” Natasha rasps with a chuckle, and Kate and Wanda burst into giggles. Wanda’s eyes find Agatha’s again, and the two exchange glances meant only for each other. Within a matter of seconds, as the two sisters continue to banter and play-grapple on the ground, Wanda smoothly slips out from under Yelena’s head and out of the middle of the pile, shifting to the other side of Kate, who scoots over to pull Yelena’s head into her own lap even as she and Natasha are goofing off. Her eyes barely leave Agatha’s face, but Kate is the only one who isn’t pretending not to notice. Wanda smiles again, eyes suddenly looking nervous and away from her friend’s gaze, and her fingers tap the smooth ground beside her. A less-than-subtle hint that Agatha bites down on, scooting over to sit beside the younger woman.

Wanda’s eyes stay locked on her own hand, which has stayed somewhat sandwiched between them, until Agatha’s hand reaches down, fingers intertwining with Wanda’s. The latter’s bright jade eyes briefly glance up at Agatha, shy again in the moment, and the older woman just smiles. As the conversations continue, Agatha feels her friend’s body relax through her fingers, and nudges gently until Wanda’s head is resting on her shoulder, auburn hair spilling over her shoulder. Agatha’s heart skips again, just slightly, and she subtly turns her head to give the barest press of lips to the crown of Wanda’s head.

In that moment, Agatha realizes that no matter how hard she tries to keep this neutral…she is so, utterly, unbelievably fucked.

It’s well after midnight when a news alert pings to Wanda’s phone, but she is mercifully asleep. Agatha, however, is not, and without Wanda’s knowledge, Agatha had enabled notifications on her phone for the same news story Wanda has been anxiously following. Her heart drops to her stomach and makes her feel faint as soon as she taps the notification.

-

FUGITIVE CINCINNATI PASTOR SPOTTED NEAR PENNSYLVANIA MOUNTAIN CAMPSITES

-

Chapter Text

Wanda is fine.

At least, everyone is going to believe she’s fine, damn it. No matter what it takes. Wanda’s fine. Everything is good.

Wanda Maximoff is not phased by the fact that her childhood assailant has been spotted less than ten miles from the cabin she’s spending spring break at. Nope. Nuh-uh. Definitely not worried. He hasn’t seen her in almost ten years, and she’s grown up. Her hair has gone more red than it was when she was twelve. She’s grown taller - not by much, but it’s something. She’s still underweight (and she’s well aware, thank you very fucking much), but she’s developed and doesn’t look like the same child who left youth group crying and in pain the night she and Pietro ran away from the Proctors.

Victor could never recognize her now.

(Could he?)

She shakes the thought out of her mind as she grips the porcelain sink under her hands, knuckles white, and watches the water she just splashed over her face swirl away into the drain. She meets her own gaze in the mirror, chest heaving slightly, and winces at the pallor of her skin, and the haunted look in her eyes. She releases her grip on the sink and reaches up, gently patting her face, trying to bring some color back before she returns to the group.

Agatha and Natasha have been watching her like fucking hawks since yesterday morning. Wanda can almost certainly assume (correctly) that Agatha found out - whether she decided to check, or just saw something in Wanda’s eyes, it doesn’t matter. And if Agatha knows, the chance of Natasha knowing is non-zero. The girls might not be aware, or if they are, they’ve been surprisingly quiet about it. But Natasha occasionally forgets that Yelena is an adult now too, and can handle the information.

(Even if Yelena is still very insistent and passionate about refuting whatever Wanda’s head is telling her.)

Wanda has done her best. She’s constantly schooled her face to look calm, made a conscious effort to speak and appear as cheery as she was yesterday. She cooked dinner by herself this evening, after a busy day of trails and finding fun activities in town, and made sure she ate enough that the two older women stopped glancing at her in their periphery.

(It doesn’t count that she purged last night, for the first time in over a week, or that she was just doing it again moments ago. It doesn’t. Because Wanda says it doesn’t, even though she knows that logic is childish.)

So far, Wanda is playing the role quite well, in her opinion. She knows she’s masking, and she knows it’s going to bite her that much harder later. But she can’t delve into it right now. She is not going to ruin this trip for anyone else. 

(They didn’t just plan it for her, and she knows that very well. It’s not about her, and she can make it fine. She doesn’t need to be so selfish.)

She blinks, hard, a good several times, and takes a deep breath before turning up her lips and putting her content face back on. She's exhausted, but they won’t know. Nobody will know.

(She’s reticent to admit that for the first time in years, she forced herself to stay in constant half-sleep last night. She tried to sleep, at first, but the memories came distorted, nightmarish, and caused her to wake within a few hours with her hand clapped over her own mouth. She can’t let them see this.)

They’re about to settle in for a movie before turning in for the night. Kate won the almost pathetically competitive rock-paper-scissors fight between the three younger women, and has chosen the Jumanji reboot film. The rest of the group is waiting in the living room - Wanda has to get back out there, and has to survive the rest of the evening.

She doesn’t want to pull the “extra” blade from her luggage again - she hated herself for even packing it on Friday, and the vivid memory of what she did to herself last night stings more than the evidence itself. But it might be how her evening ends.

Just a couple more hours.

You fucking suck at this, Maximoff.

As she quietly pads back into the living room, she smiles softly at Kate and Yelena, who are sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a giant bowl of popcorn and M&Ms. Kate beams back. “There she is! Let’s do this.”

Wanda chuckles, stepping into the room and heading towards the couch. Yelena swipes at her, trying to grasp her hand and drag her to the floor, but Wanda dodges her and laughs. “No thanks, that couch seats three, it’s a waste if I don’t sit there!”

“That is a very roundabout way to say you want to sit next to me, doll,” Agatha smirks playfully, and Wanda rolls her eyes and grins back.

“If that’s what you’re telling yourself.”

Kate starts the movie, and Wanda takes the hint. She settles on the couch beside Agatha, nearly yelping when the older woman snags her around the waist and tugs, patting the pillow she’s set on her legs. With an amused scoff, Wanda shakes her head and obliges, lowering herself to lay her head on the pillow.

I can do this. I can act normal. They’re off my case for now.

They’re not as stupid as you, though. Are you really going to let them touch you when they could just know?

Just. Stop.

It’s your mind.

“You have such long eyelashes. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed before.” Agatha’s murmured voice breaks Wanda from her internal struggle, which has surprisingly lasted ten minutes or so, rife with guilt, and the compliment makes her stomach flip. She lets a shy smile cross her face, and looks away towards the TV.

“Thanks, I just wish they were a little thicker,” she mumbles in response, only chastising the stupidity of what she’s just said for a second, and tries not to sigh as Agatha’s fingers slip through the strands of hair behind her ear. Beside Agatha, Natasha smirks at the pair of them, but Wanda doesn’t notice.

“You look comfortable,” Natasha says in a low, teasing tone, making Agatha huff out a laugh. Wanda hums, but her face flushes, and the anxiety starts to creep in at the attention. She starts to curl in on herself, pulling herself slightly out of Agatha’s lap, but the older woman lays her free hand on Wanda’s shoulder and rubs her thumb soothingly, with grounding pressure.

“It’s okay, honey, you know Nat’s just playing. You can stay here if you’re content.” Agatha’s voice breaks through the fog of fear clouding her mind, but Wanda forces herself to smile slightly up at her.

“I know. Thank you.” She looks over to Natasha, whose smirk has softened, and the older woman reaches out and strokes a finger down the side of Wanda’s cheek. “We do this sometimes. Or rather, she decides I need attention or something like that.”

“You don’t seem to mind,” Natasha husks, eyes glancing between her sister and Agatha. Wanda hums softly and turns back to the movie, exhaling slowly.

I can do this.

The movie passes slowly, just enough that Wanda actually begins to feel herself relax, genuinely. Between the lack of sleep last night and the feeling of Agatha’s warm fingers passing through her hair, Wanda is nearly asleep by the climax of the film. She’s just relaxed enough that she’s not startled when Agatha murmurs, close to her ear, “Do you want to go to bed?”

She just offered you a way out early. Someone finally pitied you. You’d be ungrateful not to take it.

But I’m comfortable right here.

They’re going to see it, stupid. They’re going to know you lied to them, and you’re going to hurt them.

If I go to bed, I’m going to be alone. And it’ll be nightmares.

Oh, suck it up and stop whining. You don’t deserve to be comforted. Stop playing the victim.

“Not yet,” Wanda mumbles in reply, hand moving to squeeze the knee closest to her chin. “Don’t wanna be alone yet.”

Fuck. That…that’s not what I meant to say. I was trying not to say that.

Surprisingly, in spite of the bubbling panic in her chest, her mind is quiet. Quiet enough that she can hear Agatha exhale softly before her fingers resume their movements through Wanda’s hair.

They say nothing else, allowing the movie to end in relative silence - compared to the laughter and carrying on from everyone else, anyway. At last, Kate stands and stretches. “Well, off to bed for me, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”

“Ugh, college has made you act so old, Katie,” Yelena groans, but she’s grinning as she stands too. The two of them bid everyone else good night and are gone as quickly as they stood. Natasha isn’t far behind, kissing the side of Wanda’s head as she heads to her room, leaving Agatha and Wanda on the couch.

To Wanda’s surprise, Agatha doesn’t immediately push her off and get up. Instead, her fingers continue moving, and she looks at the decorations on the walls instead of at Wanda. When she speaks, she actually sounds faintly hesitant. “Do…do you want to talk about it?”

Wanda shifts a little, turning her body to fully look up at her friend. “You usually don’t give me an option, you know.”

Agatha sighs, deeply, her gaze deep and simultaneously empty all at once as she looks at the black screen of the powered-off television. “I know, but you’ve been very obviously and very clearly trying to keep it together. And I can’t decide, given our current location and company, whether prying it out of you would just make it worse. So, if you’d like to talk about it tonight, I’m here to listen. But if you’d prefer to be distracted from it…”

“I’ll take the distraction,” Wanda breathes quickly, too fast, but she doesn’t care. “This is going to sound nosy, but it’s been something I’ve wanted to ask you…what was your life like, before Rio?”

She catches Agatha’s eyes flickering down to her, barely hiding surprise, before another sigh escapes her. “I wondered if you would end up asking me about this, honestly. Not exactly something I was looking forward to, but…I guess it’s necessary, isn’t it?”

Wanda feels a pang of guilt, and she reaches up to catch Agatha’s hand before it can continue its ministrations in her hair. “Agatha. You don’t have to tell me. If it’s too much or something you just don’t want to talk about, I mean. I just…guess it’s a curiosity thing?”

Agatha’s eyes, when they drop to her own, hold so much weight, but so much strength all at once. “I don’t mind, honey. It’s not my favorite story to tell, but I’m okay going there. I was…” she takes a struggling, deep breath, and speaks as straight as she can, clearly. “I was raised in a fundamentalist cult, and it’s something I’m still undoing a lot of over a decade later.”

Wanda’s eyes widen, and her heart clenches at the idea. She’s not a stranger to organized religion being used as a means to control, and while she’s not open to telling Agatha this, one of her scars from under a steeple is threatening to bleed again. The only thing she can whisper is a quiet, “oh.”

“Yes, you heard it correctly. I was the only surviving birth, and my mother wasn’t able to have more children after me. My father died when I was three, but I remember almost nothing about him. Mother never remarried - nobody in the church was single by that point. My mother hated me. I asked too many questions. I came up with ways to complete chores that didn’t match the exact outline for how she wanted them done. If I didn’t behave exactly as she asked, I was beaten. If needed, she’d take me to the church elders who bitched me out, then take me home and do the beating. When I was sixteen, she started trying to force me to marry some elder in the church who was twice my age. I said no so many times, she nearly beat me to the point of breaking a few bones, a neighbor happened to be walking by and called it in.”

Wanda’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and her chest tightens again. “What - what happened when the police came?”

“I got out,” Agatha says simply, looking away again. “The neighbor was Lilia. When I said I’ve known her a long time, I meant it. She was my little witchy neighbor Mother never let me visit, not even with tracts on the stupid ministry walks or whatever. She saw my mother basically attempting to kill me, called it in, tried to knock on the door. Mother freaked out, police came, she fought police, got shot in the mess, died still trying to fight them. It was like she snapped. Lilia offered to take me in, since I was almost too old to be a ward of the state. She…she’s been through all of this with me. I owe that woman my life. She doesn’t seem to think so, but I do.”

The emotion must be showing too plainly in Wanda’s face, because when Agatha looks down at her again, her brow scrunches and she reaches to smooth away the frown lines on Wanda’s forehead. “Don’t make that face. I’m here, aren’t I? It took a lot for me to get here, but I’m growing more pleased by the day that I made it. I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”

Wanda’s face flushes, and her eyes dart away. “I’m glad you’re here, for what it’s worth. Although it wouldn’t have made much difference whether you’d met me or not, at least not then.”

“Mmm, not back then,” Agatha hums softly, and Wanda catches the faintest twinkle in those captivating eyes from her own side glance. “But you and the three other women in this cabin are important to me, and I don’t think I’d ever go back and undo it if given the chance.”

Wanda doesn’t have a retort, but the emotions swirling in her gut are threatening to push everything else to the surface. And she’s not about to let that happen, so she stretches ever so slightly in Agatha’s lap before pushing herself abruptly to sitting, then standing. The black spots dancing in the corners of her vision feel like they’re mocking her, and her head spins, but she fights for a moment to blink herself back into steadiness.

Agatha is at her side in less than a breath, gently holding her by the elbow and the waist, watching her face intently. “Whoa, superstar, are you good?”

“I - I’m fine,” Wanda stammers weakly, but the tremor in her voice gives away how unsteady her body feels. “I’m just tired. We should probably get to bed, shouldn’t we?”

She’s not sure, but she thinks she can see Agatha’s face falling just a bit. The older woman sighs, her thumb slowly rubbing circles on Wanda’s upper arm, as she gently tugs Wanda closer by the waist and wraps her in a hug. Wanda doesn’t resist, and she can tell Agatha is initially surprised when Wanda buries her face in the older woman’s neck. In her ear, she can hear Agatha murmuring.

“You know where I am if you need me, hot stuff. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here, and I can see that you’re having a worse time than you’re letting on. If you need someone, you know where to find me. Understood?”

Wanda says nothing, but nods.

Unknown Number:

I’ve missed our little evenings…

You would have made a perfect wife.

But now, you’re nothing but a liability.

Tell me, Wanda: haven’t you any shame, parading yourself around after letting your brother die?

You have two options, dear.

Either you lose every worldly thing you have, including the people you love. Or…you come to me willingly, allow me to make sure that pretty mouth of yours isn’t lying about me to trigger-happy community helpers.

I always knew you’d become an abomination without me to guide you…look at the people you choose to call family. Look at YOU. You had a chance. Not anymore.

Your time of judgment has come.

I’ll see you soon.

Wanda’s hands are trembling uncontrollably, she has to do something, she can’t fucking move, she has to face him again, she’s going to die, Natasha and Yelena are going to die, Kate, Agatha…

The door to her bedroom slowly creaks open.

-

Wanda jolts awake with a shriek, hand clapped over her mouth to stop the volume. Her chest hurts, and maybe it’s just her erratic heartbeat, but the fear pierces her mind. It was just a nightmare, but…did someone hear?

How did I fall asleep? I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep, fuck fuck fuck, someone is…

Knock knock.

Wanda freezes, pulse hammering in her chest, breath stopping for a moment. No. No. It can’t be.

Knock knock.

“Wanda?” The voice is soft, but strong, and distinctly feminine.

Oh. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay? Can I come in?”

“Y-yes,” Wanda calls back quietly, not even trying to hide the stuttering. “You can come in.” 

The door creaks open, and mercifully, as expected, it’s just Agatha. The oversized sleep shirt and pants she’s wearing look unfairly soft and comfortable, her hair is wild, but in this light, she could either pass for a beautiful apparition or Wanda’s saving grace.

“I couldn’t sleep - I had a feeling,” Agatha says softly as she steps into the room, noiselessly closing the door behind her and making her way to the bed. “And I could hear you. You weren’t loud, but you’ve been making noise. And it wasn't a happy noise. I wasn’t sure if you would wake up and come find me, so I thought I would come to you first.”

Wanda has every intention of blaming it on the hour of the night, and her lack of sleep, later on. But for now, she’s not going to pinpoint blame for why her eyes are filling with tears, why she wants to pull Agatha into her bed and throw herself into the older woman’s arms, why she suddenly wants nothing more than to fall asleep next to this woman every night because she knows it would help them both. She’s not going to search for the reason why she’s feeling this way, because it’s the middle of the night, she’s exhausted, her heart is all over the place, and she’d rather just lean into it. So she nods without words, and Agatha takes the hint.

“He found me,” she whispers, as Agatha slips under the covers on the other side of the bed. “In my nightmare, I mean. He didn’t show up, not in person. But he had my number. He knew about all of you. I was a threat to his freedom, he claimed, because I never came forward but I still could. I - I know it was a dream, but it felt…” she trails off helplessly, lower lip quivering with the threat of bursting into tears, before she’s in Agatha’s arms and being lowered back onto the mattress.

“I’m here, superstar. It was just a bad dream. And you know what? Even if he somehow did find you, do you really think anyone is a match for the two women you call sisters? Are they not both well-trained in martial arts and weapons handling?”

“Technically, I have a little training in both as well, but not to their level,” Wanda replies. “I just…I don’t want anyone else to have to…”

“We’re in this with you,” Agatha cuts her off in a low, no-nonsense murmur, pulling the younger woman closer to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Whether you think you deserve it or not. We’ve got you, pretty girl, and that isn’t changing. I’m determined to let you actually sleep, since I know you haven’t for a good day or two now. Are you going to at least let me try to help?”

After a deep, shuddering breath, Wanda exhales and nods silently. With a quiet sniffle, she buries her face back into Agatha’s sleep shirt and focuses solely on the sound of Agatha softly humming into her hair for a while. She’s not certain of the melody, not that it matters, but her mind is too zoned in on the presence surrounding her - violets and lavender and the warmth she never wants to admit she feels when she’s not fighting Agatha’s intentions. It soothes her, dare she admit it, in a way that all the physical pain in the world couldn’t quite match. The care she’s being shown mirrors a life Wanda still can’t imagine is even remotely possible for her, not after the life she’s lived.

But damn it, she wouldn’t mind trying. The risk is still massive, to her, and finding her peace just to lose it would be the end of her. (Although, Natasha is right, as always; Wanda’s well aware her current coping mechanisms are dangerous, she’s known this entire time. She knows that continuing this path will almost certainly be the end of her short life.)

“Agatha?”

“Hm?” Agatha’s voice is still low, soft, intended to soothe but in her own way, which still sounds a bit like she’s teasing. Wanda tries to clear her head; she’s not sure what she intends to say, but it’s burning on the edge of her tongue.

So naturally, she freezes, as she pulls back a little and looks up at Agatha, who’s peering at her in the darkness with a sleepy, curious gaze. “I - ” She stops, cursing herself for being unable to continue.

Agatha doesn’t seem to need the explanation, though. Something must be showing in Wanda’s face.

“Sweetheart,” Agatha murmurs, pulling Wanda back to her mind with a thumb brushing her cheek. “Not like this. Not tonight. Not as a distraction from what your mind is doing to you.”

Wanda’s aching, fluttering heart sinks, then picks up again as Agatha adds, “Maybe in the future, if you still want it. When the voice in your head isn’t trying to drag you under, when that piece of shit is caught, when therapy is working and you can breathe.”

Honestly, Agatha’s slight rambling is adorable. But Wanda needs to ask, so with a tremor in her voice, she does. “Is that something you want and would wait for? I don’t know how long this all is going to take.”

Agatha huffs, but it’s good-natured, and she leans in to plant a kiss on Wanda’s forehead, speaking her next words with her lips still pressed against the younger woman’s skin. “I can wait.”

Wanda closes her eyes automatically at the contact, unable to stop a faint smile from forming on her face. “So…if not that, do you have other distractions? I…I’m actually really tired. But my mind - it won’t shut up. Especially not now.”

Agatha tilts her head as their eyes meet. “Not going to kick me out, then?”

“Would you go if I tried?”

Agatha’s voice is no-nonsense, yet playful. “Mm, nope, not a chance. Can’t fool me. I am quite pleased that you asked, though. Good girl. I have one…but you can’t laugh. It’s a lullaby I found once that I sang to Nicky for a while. It worked better than I could have expected, too.”

Wanda looks at her, really looks, and sees the hesitant vulnerability etched in Agatha’s features. It warms her even more than the previous affection did, and she can’t help but smile as she snuggles back in and mumbles, “We can try it. I’m not going to laugh.”

She hears Agatha exhale, almost sounding relieved, then fingers carding through her hair as the older woman starts singing.

“There’s an axolotl on the pink stairs; is an axolotl s’posed to be there? If you ask an axolotl if they’ll be back tomorrow, a penguin waddles in, and then the axolotl’s gone…”

“I know this,” Wanda whispers with a grin. “I think Kate showed it to the Barton kids, and now the two older kids sing it to the baby all the time.”

Agatha hums, pleased, and continues the song.

“There’s an axolotl on the lawn chair; is an axolotl s’posed to be there? If you ask an axolotl if they’ll be back tomorrow, a penguin waddles in, and then the axolotl’s gone…”

It’s working, and Wanda doesn’t have the wherewithal to question how. She relaxes, faster than she’s realized, most traces of her nightmare and the pain of the last days forgotten for a moment.

“There’s an axolotl at the front door; is that what the Welcome sign is there for? If you ask an axolotl if they’ll be back tomorrow, a penguin waddles in, and then they both sing you a song.”

Wanda’s exhausted, overwhelmed body finally caves in, but thankfully not in the path of destruction but in one of rest and surrender - even if just for a little while. She barely registers the next lines, Agatha’s voice softening with each line. But the last part rings in her mind as she falls asleep, and the feeling of being safe - once foreign, but gradually more familiar even in these last months - is the most prominent sensation as everything goes blissfully dark.

“We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

When Wanda wakes, she isn’t alone. 

She’s also not facing Agatha - which means she can’t see the sadness Agatha’s eyes are radiating in the early light. She can, however, see Agatha’s hand stroking her arm. Her heart drops as she realizes that she’s still wearing the sleep shirt she put on. 

This shirt has short sleeves, and Wanda has had a very, very messy couple of days.

Wanda is always cold, though she pretends she isn’t, but under the blankets she never has to pretend. It’s nice in this cabin, and warmer than New York. She doesn’t have to wear sweatshirts to bed.

But she probably should have.

You fucking dumbass.

“Good morning.”

Her breath hitches, body stiffening as Agatha speaks softly behind her. Wanda tries to breathe slowly, relax herself, but it’s not an easy feat. Her response isn’t what she’s expecting out of her own mouth. “You stayed.”

Agatha hums behind her, and murmurs, “You couldn’t have paid me to leave you.”

“I forgot to change shirts. I’m sorry.”

The hand stroking her arm, alongside a particularly nasty gash, ceases its motion. Wanda immediately pulls her arms to herself, crossing them across her chest. “I don’t want you to hide. Hey. I’m not - I’m not angry with you. Please turn around, I want to look at you.”

“I can’t.” The whispered words sound broken, raspy, but Wanda tries so incredibly hard to keep it together in her early consciousness. She sighs at the feeling of soft lips pressing into her cheek, as Agatha’s arms wrap fully around her and pull Wanda’s back against her front, tightening her embrace.

“I’m not mad at you, pretty girl. You know I’m not.”

“You should be,” Wanda whispers harshly, fingernails digging into her forearms as her fists clench, the pain settling on her chest like a weight. What is wrong with her, why can’t she just be okay for a minute -

“Wanda. My sweet girl. Come here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me, darling. Just turn around and let me look at you. Please.”

Wanda turns over, but it’s reluctant, meeting Agatha’s eyes with some trepidation and despondency. Agatha doesn’t look angry though. Or disappointed. She just looks…sad. Empathetic.

“You didn’t tell me how bad it was.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it’s quiet. But it lands on Wanda like a shout, and her gaze drops in shame.

Wanda keeps her eyes down, wincing as Agatha takes her fists and forces them to un-clench. “I didn’t want to ruin the trip for anyone else.”

Agatha lets out a shaking breath, and Wanda’s eyes fly up to her face. “No, I’m sorry, please, I just-” 

“No, Wanda,” Agatha cuts her off, kind but firm. “You cannot set yourself on fire to keep us warm. We do this together, or we fix it so that we are doing it together. There is absolutely no other option in this life. I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself to protect us all. You are not the scapegoat. You will never be the loss we could accept, sweet girl. I may not be super involved with your sisters -”

“You’re part of us now, they’ve accepted you, you are ours, you stay,” Wanda interjects softly, and Agatha chuckles quietly before kissing her forehead.

“My point, my dear, is that you are not going to give up your good vacation to keep ours good. We muddle through together. You let us rally around you, and we take care of you. And you show love in the ways you can muster, in the ways you know how, and that is enough right now. Or it would be, if I could just get you to stop isolating yourself so damn much.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and Wanda lets out a broken chuckle, before exhaling and looking down.

“Can I tell you something?”

“I’m surprised you want to.”

“Do you want me to tell you, or not?”

“You know the answer, and I feel like you’re stalling.”

Wanda inhales sharply, then blurts out, “I think I’m afraid to get better. Not entirely. But at least enough that I can recognize that I’m afraid.”

“It’s a lot of work,” Agatha muses gently, reaching up to card through Wanda’s hair. Wanda huffs, but continues.

“That’s not what I mean. I’ve been fucked up for so long that I don’t know who I am. I can’t figure out what my life would be like without always coming back, never being safe and sort of stable on a permanent or even super long basis. I don’t know who I am without the pain, and that’s what scares me. I want to do better…but what if I make it there and then being such an empty shell just…ends me anyway? And it was all for nothing, and I still miss out on being with you and my family.” Wanda’s rambling again, but it’s what she thinks, the biggest actually-articulated fear she doesn’t want to admit to.

Agatha’s response is to cup her face and scoot down to eye level, looking deathly serious. “Then my job is to help you expand. Because sweetheart, you’ve always been you. I can see when you’re genuine. You were never just your pain as you grew. You are still you. But the pain has left you squashed into this shell. We are in this together. Do you understand that?”

Wanda tears up at that. “I think so…maybe. I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” She glances at the clock on the walls groaning when she realizes it’s only 6:30 in the morning. “I don’t want to get up yet. You shouldn’t even be up yet. Why are we up?”

Surprisingly, Agatha looks a little sheepish. “Well, I…actually started to have a nightmare, I guess, but I somehow woke myself up. It was weird. That shit doesn’t happen much these days.”

Wanda doesn’t reply at first, but her breath releases as a little oh and she’s snuggling into Agatha, tightly winding her arms around the older woman’s midsection. She gives a squeeze, soft, careful, and murmurs, “I’m sorry. Are you okay? I’m here.”

Agatha freezes for a second, then sighs and buries her fingers in Wanda’s hair again. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Thank you for checking on me. You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Wanda mumbles against her shirt, and the vibrations from Agatha’s chest are tickling her as the older woman chuckles. “I care about you too. Friends are a two-way street. I can’t just let you be supportive and do nothing if I have reason to worry about you. Do…do you want to go back to sleep? For a bit?”

Agatha hums again, kissing the crown of Wanda’s head. “We can try.”

It’s raining by the end of breakfast, but Wanda honestly doesn’t mind. Everybody’s quiet, calm, Wanda eats a little bit of breakfast and tries to wait a little longer before sneaking off to the restroom. Agatha’s in the kitchen with Nat while Kate and Yelena are playing something on their Switches, and Wanda passes through with ease - or so she thinks. She’s almost to the bathroom door when Agatha calls softly to her, but she’ll never admit she’s only pretending not to hear it.

She still doesn’t feel safe, necessarily, but the mantra of the day appears to be an endless train of gaslighting herself into believing she’s just paranoid. That she actually feels sick after meals, because she’s scared in a way that isn’t reasonable; Victor wouldn’t come for her now, she was just another in a long line of survivors he’d tormented, her testimony has probably lost relevance depending on the statute of limitations, right? She is just dealing with a lot of anxiety, more than she has in a while, it’s just the normal grieving process finally kicking her ass. She’s fine.

She ducks her head faintly at the flicker of pain in Agatha’s gaze as Wanda rejoins them in the living area. It’s obvious Agatha knows, but it’s also clear she hasn’t completely filled anyone else in, perhaps hoping Wanda would come clean of her own merit and desire to do better. At the end of the moment, all she feels is remorse - which isn’t always the emotion she feels after she’s given her body even more grief.

And to be fair, Wanda does want to do better - some part of her, at least. The part of her that isn’t begging to be free of the pain that saturates the core of who she is; no, that dark place in her being would much rather she handle the situation by removing herself from the equation altogether. Wanda doesn’t think she actually wants to die now.

If you wanted to do better, you wouldn’t be so useless.

“Agatha, Wands,” Natasha calls softly from the little dining table, a small grin pulling on her lips. “Want to play Uno?”

Agatha’s attention is pulled from searching Wanda’s gaze as she smirks back at Natasha. “Now, Nat, you know damn good and well that Uno ruins friendships. I like you guys. Why would we play Uno?”

Wanda, seeing an opportunity to blend in and deflect any suspicion, jumps to quip back. “We could always play Monopoly, if we’re looking for contentious games - that’ll take the rest of spring break, though, Nat cheats.”

“It’s not cheating, it’s late stage capitalism and I’m the mega-corp taking everyone’s money,” Natasha drawls, prompting giggles from Wanda and a snort from Agatha. It seems Yelena and Kate are finally less attentive to the video game they’ve been co-op playing, and Yelena whips her head around with a mischief-laden smile.

“You’ve got it all wrong, all three of you,” she stage-whispers. “If we’re playing relationship-ruining games, we play Mario Party. See how quickly Natasha throws a controller at my head again.”

“That was one time, suka!” Natasha half-shouts, and everyone else snickers. “You took my last star!”

“Cards Against Humanity it is, then,” Kate mutters, just loud enough for the room to hear. Her bright eyes meet Wanda’s, and Wanda grins widely. “I can already see Wanda’s on board, but that’s not even a surprise.”

Agatha’s lips also curve into a wicked grin, eyes twinkling. “Oh good! I must warn you, I might make you all slightly uncomfortable.”

Natasha lolls her head over to Agatha, smirking. “When you’ve lived with Wanda and Yelena for more than a couple years, Agatha, nothing makes you uncomfortable.”

Two hours later, the game has dissolved the group into multiple fits of hard, rib-aching laughter, and Kate is somehow winning. Natasha slaps her cards down, shaking her head with a rueful glance over to Kate. “I fold. I don’t know how you clocked us all so hard this time. I’m a fucking private investigator. Are you taking psychology this semester, Katya?”

Agatha raises her eyebrows, glancing at Kate with surprise, and Wanda grins behind her cards. When Agatha speaks, it’s quiet shock. “Wait, is she teasing or are you Russian too?”

“I’m not Russian in the slightest,” Kate rolls her eyes and laughs. “But Yelena decided she was giving me a name when we started trading Russian for ASL as kids. Right of passage or something, we were like nine, it made sense back then.” She glances at Yelena, and the glance between them is mostly unreadable, but oddly laced with something darker and more personal than the other three can comprehend.

Wanda blinks, and the expressions have neutralized, almost as if Yelena wasn’t just looking at her best friend like…that. Wanda may have chosen to move to New York, but she’s not daft; she knows that look.

She's reticent to admit she has looked at someone like that more than a few times lately. And that someone has looked at her the same way. She knows everyone knows, it’s not something they keep quiet about.

“And you still turn a very interesting color when I call you that,” Yelena drawls with a cheeky grin, reaching over to boop Kate on the nose. Kate’s cheeks glow a soft pink, and she huffs. Wanda smirks quietly to herself. I fucking knew it.

A quick squeeze from Agatha’s hand, two times. When their eyes meet, Agatha mouths, are they…?

Wanda shakes her head. No. I think no. Later.

Agatha catches the meaning of the last word, and nods. They’ll discuss it later. Wanda has suspected these two to have developed feelings for each other in recent months, but this is the strongest display of any kind of obvious spark between them.

“Okay, I’m going to go make lunch,” Kate proclaims, a little breathy, as she clambers to her feet and dusts herself off. Natasha is up less than a moment later.

“Katie, honey, I don’t trust you with a stove without supervision.” Natasha’s eyes are twinkling, and Wanda outright laughs at the mock indignation on Kate’s face. “I’ll be damned if this rental burns down before we go home!”

“Bitch,” grumbles Kate, but she’s grinning sheepishly as the pair walks into the kitchen side by side. Wanda glances over to Agatha and Yelena, who are also laughing quietly at the chaos, and feels her anxiety settle a touch.

I can do this. They don’t have to know.

Wanda told herself she was fine.

Wanda told everyone else she was fine, too. Wanda has tried to give them less obvious reasons to suspect she’s not okay.

The problem with spending her teenage years with a family whose parental figures are ex-spies? Her sisters are entirely too observant. She knows Natasha has been watching her closely, so she’s tried to push herself to smile more, eat in front of everyone, sell the act.

I could be an actor.

You’d fail before you filmed an audition tape.

She did well at lunch. Ate every single bit of the macaroni and cheese Kate and Natasha had thrown together, which was shockingly much nicer than the usual boxed brand Yelena refuses to go without. Nobody said anything when she disappeared ten minutes after lunch, for a solid five minutes, and came back with flushed cheeks instead of pale ones.

(Nobody needs to know how many times she slapped her own face to bring the color back after purging.)

When she came back, everyone was starting to leave the dining room - something about at least Kate and Natasha wanting naps, and Agatha has a book she’s wanting to read. Wanda does intend on joining her friend, maybe lying down for a bit, but not before she washes the dishes by herself. Which is how she’s now standing at the sink, by herself, scrubbing away at a plate. The cuffs of her sleeves are sopping wet, but the water is warm and it’s not really bothering her. As long as she can be helpful, she’s fine with a little water.

“Sestra, your shirt! Your sleeves are all wet, why didn’t you roll them up?” Yelena’s voice catches Wanda off-guard, and she startles a little as she turns to see the blonde standing in the kitchen doorway, an incredulous expression on her face. Wanda freezes.

“Oh! Shit, I wasn’t even thinking about it, honestly. Must have spaced out. Too late to try to keep them dry now, though. I’ll change when I’m done.” Wanda tries to sound casual, but curses inwardly at the slightly rising pitch in her voice. Yelena, of course, picks up on it too, and her head tilts as she takes a step further into the kitchen.

“Go put on something without sleeves, Wanda, I’ll handle it from here. You can do the dishes later.”

Wanda exhales, but it sounds like a halfhearted laugh, and she begs her voice to stay measured this time. “Lena, it’s cool. I can handle it. I'll change shirts in a minute.”

Yelena blinks, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes narrow a little. “You’re not fooling me, you know. Not this second, anyway.”

Wanda sighs, turning back to the dishes, trying to stay calm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lena, I’m not trying to fool anyone. I’m fine.”

“Prove it,” Yelena fires back, stepping forward again. With every step, she inches closer to the sink, but Wanda tries to stay planted where she is. “Roll your damn sleeves up, then I’ll let you finish the dishes.”

“Yelena, it’s just a damn shirt - ”

“Yes, but it’s also what’s under the shirt that concerns me, Wanda.”

Wanda exhales sharply, scrubbing slightly harder at the plate she’s cleaning. “Yelena, it’s fine, just drop it, nothing is wrong, I just don’t see the point in trying to roll them up now if they’re already - ”

She’s cut off momentarily as Yelena reaches her and tries to grab the rag out of her hand, nearly knocking the wet plate out of Wanda’s hands. The older girl exhales with a growl. “Yelena, for fuck’s sake, this is the last one, just give me a minute and I’ll have it done. Then I can go change, and we can all go chill.”

Yelena scoffs, but hands the rag back. A moment later, Wanda sets the last plate on the drying rack. “There. Happy now? I’m going to change shirts.” She cringes at her own snappy tone, but tries to hide it.

“Are you going to put on shorter sleeves this time?” Yelena challenges, eyes narrowed more as she follows Wanda out of the kitchen. They enter the living room with Wanda still a few steps ahead, trying desperately to stay calm.

“Why are you so concerned about what kind of shirt I’m putting on, Yelena? I don’t remember hiring you to choose my wardrobe.”

“It’s not about the shirt, and you fucking know it!” Yelena’s voice rises, and she reaches out to grab Wanda’s arm to turn her around.

She lands on a relatively fresh, somewhat deep mark on Wanda’s wrist.

It fucking hurts.

Wanda winces, then immediately sighs as she realizes that Yelena is watching her face. The blonde’s eyes darken, anger filling her expression. Her voice comes in a low hiss, disbelief and betrayal making it shake. “I knew it. I fucking knew you weren’t getting better. I knew you were trying to fake it again, Wanda.”

“Yelena, now isn’t the time - ”

“Why are you doing these things to yourself again? Why did you tell us you were getting better? Why did you lie to me, Wanda?” Yelena’s voice rises again, and Wanda’s chest tightens.

Don’t break.

Don’t you dare fucking break.

Do not hurt her. She deserves better than you for a sister.

“Lena, I’m trying, okay? I know I’m doing it all wrong again, I know I fucked up, I’m sorry, just let me - ”

Yelena cuts Wanda off, hazel eyes burning. “You’re not trying as much as you think, Wanda, because you’re still losing weight and you won’t even look at me when I ask you if you’re okay. You’ve been lying to us again, sestra, and it wouldn’t be such a fucking problem if the lies weren’t hurting you more!”

“Well, it’s either do it to myself or hurt everyone I actually love!” Wanda snaps before she can stop herself, feeling her hands begin to tremble. Her chest is heaving, the world seems to narrow in her vision -

“And what, do you think you’re not hurting us with what you’re choosing to do to yourself?” Yelena fires back, stepping forward as her voice rises slightly. “Do you not stop and think that maybe, just maybe, it is destroying all of us to watch you destroy yourself?”

“What the hell do you want me to say, Yelena? I’m trying to stop. I am fucking trying. It’s not that fucking easy. What the hell am I supposed to say?”

“You’re not supposed to say anything!” Yelena’s eyes fill with tears, and she takes another step forward. She’s close, too close, and Wanda instinctively takes a step back. “All you’ve done is say you’ll do better! I know you’ve tried, I know it’s hard, but you keep lying so we won’t worry. Do you think we don’t know you’re lying, that we don’t at least suspect it when you say you’re fine? You’d rather let your sleeves be soaked than roll them up, you disappear after we eat almost every time, you seem more and more like a ghost every time I fucking talk to you since December.”

“I lost my brother!” Wanda yells despite herself, voice shaking as her fists clench at her sides, before going to her hair and tugging at it with agitation. Her anxiety is spiking, but so is her frustration, so is her anger; why did Yelena have to push? Wanda has to stop this now, she’s losing control and she’s going to ruin everything -

“So did I!” Yelena’s face contorts, and she looks away briefly before returning her fiery gaze to Wanda’s. “I may not have shared his last name, or part of his life, but Pietro was my brother. I lost part of my family the same day. Pardon me if I don’t fucking want to lose a sister, too!”

“Why does it matter? It should have been me anyway! I was the fucked-up twin, I was the one who was always too much and not enough all at the same damn time. I was the one who should have died.” Wanda’s lost herself now, she begs her voice to stop shouting, stop screaming the words no one else is supposed to know. But her traitorous body continues to work without her, and the tears flow freely as she speaks in a rough voice. “I felt it, I fucking felt it, Yelena, and that felt like confirmation that it should have been me. He was always the better one, and it wouldn’t have mattered if it had been me!”

Yelena stops dead, her face falling. Her eyes search Wanda’s, desperate to be wrong, and the Russian twang she’s picked up after growing up around it slips through. “You - you don’t actually believe that, do you? Please tell me you don’t believe that. Please tell me you’re just - saying something you don’t mean.” She steps forward again, head tilted in pained disbelief, and the shame floods Wanda like a downpour.

Briefly, through her silent tears, she contemplates claiming her words were untrue. She considers telling Yelena that she’s right, that Wanda’s just being manipulative, that she’s a terrible person and maybe they’ve just chosen the wrong person to love -

“Well, it’s the truth,” Wanda responds instead, voice barely above a whisper, as her gaze drops. It’s not enough to miss Yelena’s face crumpling in devastation, and the guilt chews at Wanda’s insides.

“Wanda. You can’t - you can’t say that. It’s not true, not a fucking word - where is this coming from? How could you believe this?” Tears have begun to form tracks down Yelena’s cheeks, and she steps closer again, reaching for Wanda like a lifeline. Wanda pulls away, backs up again, finds the wall and trembles. Yelena crosses the space between them in two strides and grabs Wanda’s hands, gripping them a little tighter each time the latter tries to pull back. “None of this is true. Having him in our family wouldn’t have been even a little bit the same if we hadn’t gotten you too. Do you not understand how fucking devastated we would be if you weren’t here, how much we love you and want you here?”

“Well, you shouldn’t,” Wanda spits out, but it’s weak, and she’s shaking violently, trying desperately to get Yelena to just get out -

“Stop fucking pushing me away. I can’t lose you too,” and Yelena gives Wanda a little shake with every emphatic word. “You have made all of our lives better every single day we have been part of yours. You are my sister, mine and Tasha’s, and no matter how you came to us, Mama and Dad love you so much, you are theirs too. It fucking sucks that we lost Pietro, but our hearts would be just as fucking broken if it had been you, if not more in whatever other ways! You can’t fucking leave me like this, Wanda.”

Wanda lets out a strangled sob and slides down the wall, Yelena right with her, as Wanda’s mind just…stops. Yelena doesn’t allow her to curl into herself, pulling Wanda into her arms and holding her as if afraid she’s going to disappear. Wanda wants to resist, to stiffen and pull away, but her resistance is gone. She clings to Yelena, fingers grasping her tank top as if her life depends on keeping the blonde close to her.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” Wanda whimpers, voice shaking. “I don’t want this. I hate it. I hate feeling like this, I hate being like this. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”  

“I know you don’t,” Yelena whispers back, rocking them both slowly side to side. “I know, Wanda, but you can’t keep shutting us out and expecting yourself to just get better alone. Or say you’re doing better while you’re falling apart. If you don’t want to feel like this, let us help you. Please,” and Yelena’s voice chokes up again. Wanda barely registers warm wetness dripping onto her head, and burrows in closer. “I can’t lose you too, Wanda.”

From the hallway, where they’ve been covertly watching since Yelena first raised her voice, Kate starts to step forward. Natasha stops her with a hand covering Kate’s, pulling her back. “Not now, Katie.”

“But they’re both crying and I have to help,” Kate whispers in a weak, tearful voice, and Agatha steps closer and pulls her into a tight hug.

“Not yet, honey. Give them a bit. Wanda needs this.”

“They both do,” Natasha adds, and the trio stands back, hearts aching as they watch the breakdown unfold - and cross fingers that maybe, just maybe, this time there’s some hope.

Chapter Text

Wanda cries so hard, melts down so intensely, that she completely exhausts herself by the time she’s finally stopped. Yelena somehow managed to get her to the couch mid-meltdown, and now Agatha has a pillow in her lap and an uneasily sleeping Wanda laying her head on it. Kate and Yelena have taken the farthest armchair, Natasha the closest, and they’re getting to the bottom of what happened to get Wanda to this point.

To be blunt, Wanda no longer has a say in whether Kate and Yelena know that her attacker could be within a few miles of this cabin. They’re involved. They have to know.

Natasha isn’t happy about it, and Agatha can see as much. Natasha would rather keep everyone in the dark, thinking she could protect them and wishing she could make Wanda forget, too. Agatha knows it’s intended to be loving, a good sister, but they’ve already discussed this - shielding them from the source of their sister’s resurfaced pain will only put them more in danger, and Kate and Yelena are legal adults. 

In the last hour since Wanda fell asleep, the girls and Natasha have been discussing practicals, whether to stay on vacation or head home early, but someone stay with Wanda (or Wanda stays with Agatha). Meanwhile, Agatha has been alternating between running her fingers through the loose strands of hair falling from the ponytail Wanda had slapped her hair into this morning…and doing a little research of her own.

“I found something,” she calls softly, and the others stop talking immediately. Agatha blinks, shocked. “Jesus. I didn’t think you guys could go silent that fast.”

Yelena huffs, but she smirks right after. “Just say it.”

“Statute of limitations for reporting the…” Agatha‘s voice gets caught in her throat, and she blinks. It’s right there, plain and unceremonious, a typical search result. But it catches in her throat, nauseating in the worst way, and she winces. “Reporting this particular kind of crime in Ohio can be done up to twelve years from the day the victim turns…”

“Eighteen,” Natasha supplies, and finishes. Agatha nods, and for the first time, the three other conscious women in the room see the threat of tears in her bright eyes. Natasha’s eyes soften, and she nods back. “I hate talking about it too, honestly. I have to try, because I want her to talk to someone and sometimes I know she won’t. But I hate even thinking about it. Doesn’t bring back the best memories for me either.”

“I would imagine it doesn’t,” Agatha murmurs in response before addressing the room. She keeps her voice hushed, so as not to wake Wanda. But Natasha wasn’t kidding about that extra pair of earplugs, which Wanda is now using to tune everything out. Nevertheless, Agatha tries to stay quiet. “She could still report him. Regardless of whether she presses charges. They could use the report to help when they catch him.”

“If they catch him,” mutters Yelena, and Natasha sends her a kind but sharp look. 

“Yelena, did I or did I not tell you to leave the safe in my trunk when we packed?” Nat’s voice isn’t incredibly condescending, but it’s definitely laced with amused disbelief. “If they don’t catch him, but he gets too close…or if he gets too close either way…”

“We fucking end him.” Kate sits up, and Agatha’s head whips around. Kate’s been pretty quiet until this point, but her eyes are intense, and she looks…hardened. “He has no right to even occupy the most abandoned corners of her mind right now. I can hear her, the last couple nights, when she’s fallen asleep. She fights to stay awake at night. I feel like we all know that, right?”

Agatha grimaces, nods. Natasha sighs. Yelena lowers her gaze.

“It’s just been since he was seen. She still slips up, just little bits and pieces when she actually falls asleep. I’m scared to go in, because I don’t know what she’ll do. But I can hear it.”

While the rest of the group continues to discuss logistics, Agatha looks down at Wanda, still sleeping lightly, though her long lashes flutter as she shifts a little, starting to breathe quickly. Agatha exhales slowly, reaches to the back of Wanda’s neck, slipping her fingers through the baby hairs over and over until the young woman slows her restless motions. A small smile graces the older woman’s face as she watches Wanda snuggle in closer, her breaths evening out.

“You treat her like she hung the moon.” It’s Natasha speaking, relatively close to them so she can be quieter. Agatha looks up to see the softest, most genuine smile she’s witnessed on the woman’s face, deep emerald eyes full of warmth.

Agatha breathes out a soft chuckle, then grins. “Maybe to me, she did.”

When Wanda wakes up, she’s not in the living room of the cabin. She’s in her bed, soft white covers pulled up to her neck, and her hair is loose, freely splayed out on her pillow. And Agatha is, predictably, lying beside her, one hand resting on the top of the covers, close to Wanda’s own hand but not quite touching. 

Agatha is watching her silently, but breaks into a tired, gentle smile as Wanda blinks, slowly coming back to herself. “Hi, sweetheart. How are you feeling?”

Wanda’s eyes drift to the curtains, seeing a faint amount of fading light peeking through them. She blinks again, groans quietly, and turns her face towards her pillow. “To be honest, I feel like shit. Like I didn’t just sleep for however long I slept. I’m still…fuck, how am I so tired?”

“If I had to guess? Emotional breakdown mixed with several years of terrible sleep…I’d be surprised and concerned if you woke up feeling energized, if I’m honest.” Agatha’s blunt, but she’s soft and careful about it, shifting her position just slightly to get a better look at her friend. “It’s been a lot for you, honey. It can be pretty exhausting, can’t it?”

Wanda sighs, shoulders deflating slightly as she meets Agatha’s concerned gaze. She knows, logically, that the older woman is right; however, admitting that she really has just been barely surviving for the last several years is…not a pleasant reality. Instead of arguing, or agreeing, or giving Agatha anything, she reaches out and takes the hand splayed out on the covers. She doesn’t hold the offered hand - instead, she plays with Agatha’s long, slender fingers, using her fidgeting as a crutch to quiet her own mind. “You didn’t have to stay with me. When whoever it was moved me back in here. And what time is it?”

“It’s…just after eight. There’s dinner out in the kitchen, and I’m supposed to make sure you get up and eat something. I made soup. Do you not want me here?” Agatha’s voice carries a small crack of hesitation, second-guessing, and Wanda immediately lifts her eyes, imploring her older friend to understand.

“No, no, it’s not that at all, I do want you here with me, I just…you could have left me in here. You don’t have to separate yourself from anyone for me. I’m not…”

“You are that important to me, Wanda.” Agatha cuts her off, reaching out with her free hand and smoothing a lock of hair away from Wanda’s eyes. “Don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise. You mean the world to me, so of course I’m going to stay. Besides, I wanted you to know that I made the soup, so I could get you to maybe eat and keep it down after the days you’ve had. It could always have been Yelena or Kate…but I don’t think you’d have gotten as much rest, do you?” She half-smiles, and Wanda giggles at the idea, which pulls the rest of the smile out of Agatha. “There’s my beautiful girl.”

Wanda hums and scoots forward, and Agatha wastes no time pulling her into her arms. Wanda grasps at the woman’s sleep shirt, burying her face in Agatha’s shoulder. “I love them, don’t get me wrong, but after the afternoon I had with Yelena…I’m glad it was you. Waking up to you is one of my favorite things.” She immediately stills at her own confession, face heating up and turning a brilliant crimson as she lets out a tiny gasp. Agatha must feel the warmth, because she huffs with a satisfied little chuckle. Wanda tries in vain to recover. “I mean, you’re really understanding and kind and I’m always glad when it’s you I wake up next to - fuck, I can’t phrase this correctly without it sounding very not platonic, can I?”

Agatha lets out a little laugh at that, bringing a hand up to the back of Wanda’s head and gently cradling it. “I’m afraid nothing about that sentence sounds platonic, but I caught what you meant. I don’t mind it. And just between us…” She leans her head in further, lips brushing the shell of Wanda’s ear as she murmurs, “Waking up to you is one of my favorite things too, pretty girl.”

Wanda’s cheeks burn again, and she groans. “Stop teasing me.”

“Never, this is too much fun,” Agatha whispers back, before shifting to place a slow kiss on one of Wanda’s cheeks. She tuts playfully as she pulls back. “Ooh, honey, you’re awfully warm. Do you feel okay? Your cheeks are so flushed…”

“They are not,” Wanda mumbles against her shoulder, and Agatha snorts softly in amusement, cradling her closer.

“You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t care as much as I do, right? Speaking of which…are you ready for some dinner?”

Wanda sighs, still pressed against Agatha, and asks with the faintest whine in her tone, “Do I have to? I kind of feel like I’d rather live under a rock than face the girls right now.”

“Wanda, look at me.”

The serious, sharp edge to Agatha’s voice startles her, and she obliges instantly. She blinks at the pleased hum the older woman lets out, and she can’t take her attention off of her. “Good girl. Wanda…nobody is upset with you. It’s not going to be awkward. They love you, and they now know why things have been so bad. Yelena is ready to commit about fifteen murders for you.”

“Yelena does have a penchant for gratuitous, albeit somewhat…unnecessary violence, when she wants it…” Wanda mutters in response, and Agatha outright laughs. Wanda giggles and lets her eyes flutter shut, basking in the sound and the contentment, and is surprisingly okay for a minute. Just here. 

With Agatha, who’s supposed to just be a friend, but probably will go beyond that at some point in the future. And Wanda’s okay with that, which isn’t something she expected to feel.

Her chest flutters, too, when she feels lips pressed against her forehead, and a smile on them.

“You are fucking adorable. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop telling you that.”

“You might when I’m 60 and look like a stick off an old weather-beaten tree. All the weird weathered bark and shit.”

“As long as you live to 60, darling, I’ll take it and I’ll still call you beautiful. Even if we’re just still friends at that point.”

Wanda huffs softly in amusement, before opening her eyes and smiling at the woman in front of her, scrunching her nose in the way she knows makes Agatha smile back. “Maybe this is stupid, but we better not still be ‘just friends’ by then.”

Her breath hitches at the darkness overwhelming Agatha’s eyes, and the expression on the older woman’s face is enough to make Wanda’s stomach feel like she’s on a rollercoaster at full speed. Agatha tilts her head, as best she can in spite of being pressed against a pillow, and she spares a glance to Wanda’s lips before she teases, “You know, I’d like to think I’m doing a pretty good job controlling myself with you…but you’re not making that easy, are you?”

Wanda chuckles under her breath, but she’s not doing a great job of hiding the spike in her pulse. She brings a hand to Agatha’s wild hair, fiddling with the ends of a single strand and focusing her stare on it. Her retort is hushed, and she can’t fully mask the anticipatory tremor in her voice. “Maybe I don’t want you to control yourself with me.”

She can’t stop the grin at Agatha’s cheeks flushing a faint, dusty pink as she inhales sharply. Then, in a strained, raspy voice: “You really aren’t ready for this. I can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did…I don’t want to get into this and then fuck it up, knowing it would affect you.”

Wanda’s heart continues to pound hard enough that she can feel it in the back of her throat, and with their proximity, she knows Agatha can feel it. She completely understands where the older woman’s mind is, and it’s honestly not making it easier to resist the overwhelming urge to close the gap of mere inches between their faces.

She’s almost certain Agatha isn’t wrong. Wanda’s head is a hellscape on the worst of days, and though she has people around her who are loving her through it, it’s still difficult. She’s got a shadow from the past looming, and her ghosts follow her wherever she goes, screaming that she deserves this pain, that she should suffer physically to atone for her losses.

I can’t hurt you.

You’re so beautiful, do you know that?

Good girl…

Wanda swallows harshly at the heat swirling low in her abdomen. Agatha is trying to be respectful. Wanda knows this, logically, and the care being put into her efforts is admirable. (And stupidly attractive.)

“We need to get out there. I promised them I’d make sure you came out to at least get some food if you woke up.”

Wanda is broken from her reverie with an apologetic look on Agatha’s face, and she sighs. She knows she isn’t getting out of it, and won’t be able to avoid eating tonight - or talking to the others. Agatha wants her to feel safe and content, but Agatha also wants her to be taken care of, whether Wanda likes it or not. It doesn’t make the thought of either activity any less daunting, but the fear is definitely dampened as she follows Agatha out of the bed and catches a glimmer of affectionate pride in her eyes.

Her body and mouth move before her mind catches up, and before Agatha can open the door, Wanda catches her by the wrist. The older woman barely has time to turn around before Wanda’s arms are around her waist, and Agatha instantly reciprocates the hug. She’s never refused affection from Wanda, and she sure won’t start now.

Without much thought, Wanda shifts and whispers, lips so close that she knows Agatha can feel the vibrations against her ear. “I don’t think you could hurt me in the way you worry about. But I wouldn’t mind it a bit in…other ways.”

She barely gives Agatha, or herself, time to process what’s been said before her lips ghost over a spot just below the ear she spoke into, stopping to press against it just a little. Wanda immediately withdraws afterward, grins mischievously, and opens the bedroom door before slipping out.

Agatha follows quickly behind, and even with the anxious thought of what the hell did I just do, Wanda definitely feels a little satisfaction at the momentarily dazed look on the older woman’s face.

Wanda:

Hi! I hope you guys are having the best time ever! Nat said you had asked her about me since I haven’t been texting much, so I wanted to reach out. I just didn’t want you guys to be too interrupted.

Melina:

Hi, sweetheart. You couldn’t bother us if you wanted to, you know that. It’s good to hear from you.

Natasha seemed quite worried about you when I spoke to her last.

We love you girls more than anything, and if things are hard, we WANT you to tell us. You know that, yes?

You are our daughter, Wanda, just as much as Natasha and Yelena.

Wanda:

I know that now. I do. I just didn’t want to cause trouble.

Melina:

You never have, little one. Not once. 

You have always been so good. You never deserved your pain.

Wanda:

You aren’t the only person saying that. It’s just…so hard to believe it.

I’m not okay. I think you know I’m not, if you’ve spoken to Nat lately.

Everything is hard without him. I don’t even know who I am…I don’t think I ever really did. But at least with him, I had a shield. And now he’s gone, and I was there when it happened, and everything hurts.

I’m so tired, Mom.

Melina:

I know, darling. You’ve held yourself up for so long, and you’ve tried so hard to be okay for everyone else that you’ve done yourself more damage in the process.

Natasha has said a few things. I’m not going to chastise you over the struggles I know have come back to you lately, but please know that Alexei and I love you so very much, and we’re here. Even if you can’t see us right now.

We should be taking a break and coming back to the States for a few weeks this summer - if you don’t come to Ohio, we’ll come to you.

I need to hug my middle child.

Wanda:

I think that would help more than you know.

Did…Natasha tell you about the other issue? Not my habits…the news I’ve been getting.

Melina:

She did. She didn’t give me names. She said that’s up to you.

You aren’t too far past the statute to report it, dear. It’ll be added to the current list of charges, however long.

It’s getting late for you there, so I hope you’re getting ready to try and get some rest. But one last thing - Natasha mentioned that you might have a very special friend…how’s that going?

Wanda:

Ugh, NATASHA!

I can’t believe she ratted me out. But we’re not dating, this woman and I. It’s complicated.

She’s probably the youngest instructor in the department she’s in - she’s 34, we met when I got lost on the way to my Norse mythology class and she helped me out. We interacted a few more times and ended up becoming really good friends.

Agatha’s really cool. Widowed, lost her son right before her wife died, and if I hadn’t met her I’m not sure I’d have started therapy…or that I’d be here, honestly. That’s how bad it’s been…I’m just scared to talk about it. It’s hard.

And yes, I’m about to try to sleep. Nat and Agatha won’t let me sleep by myself right now, so I have to figure out who has decided to bunk with me. They ganged up on me.

Melina:

Sounds like this Agatha fits right in. And takes good care of you.

Just take care of yourself, sweetheart. They care about you. We do too. Try to sleep. And TELL people when things are bad. We love you, and we’d rather talk you through the same solution a thousand times than lose you because you think you’ve pushed too far for anyone to listen anymore.

That could never be true with us. We just want you to do better.

I love you, малышка. Try to rest.

Wanda:

I love you too, Mom. I’ll do my best.

Chapter Text

“Okay, if you’re going to keep making eyes at each other, I dare you to kiss Agatha right now!”

Yelena’s grin is wolfish, devious, and all too knowing. Beside her, Kate snickers, and in the armchair behind her, Natasha rolls her eyes. Wanda just blushes faintly.

It’s been a couple of days since things came to a head. They’ve reached the final night in this cabin, the last night all together for a little while, and as such, the final night has been spent lounging around the living room for some much-needed community. Everyone now has the notification ping for the situation on their various news apps, and Wanda has been trying to take better care of herself.

Family time has been integral, and Agatha has been a huge help - to the point that Yelena’s teasing has ramped up quite a bit.

“This is a family event, Yelena, stop dating people to kiss each other! Three of us are sisters!” Natasha scolds.

“Well, Kate’s not and Wanda turns pink every time Agatha looks in her general direction -”

“How very dare you!” Wanda squawks in outrage, but her face is crimson. She can feel it. There goes any hope of refuting the allegations.

“I’m pretty sure most of Wanda’s blood flow goes to her cheeks at this point, Yelena, so your point is moot,” Agatha muses calmly, and Wanda could kiss her at the smooth defense. Really not making it easy to pretend this is platonic.

Yelena’s eyes glint with the kind of delirious glee that comes exclusively with a day of heavy emotion, followed by a couple days of comfort and love. It’s exhaustion, the early evening before their reluctant trips home, swirling curiously around with the relief of feeling…lighter. She grins. “You’re not wrong, Agatha, but I’m pretty sure if both of you quit playing this weird dancey around it game you’re doing, I’m going to be an aunt by the time I’m 25.”

Wanda splutters in halfway-genuine outrage, and Kate momentarily chokes on a sip of Coke in her laughter. Agatha barely misses a beat before smirking and quipping, “Yelena, honey, should we talk about how babies are made?”

Kate coughs again, Natasha nearly falls out of her chair, Yelena gapes, and Wanda buries her face in her hands. Agatha glances over, notices she’s shaking, and definitely starts hearing the laugh a moment later.

“I don’t know what you mean, Agatha, I didn’t say anyone had to do the straight people shit.”

“The implication was definitely intentional,” Wanda retorts quietly, and Kate giggles. Agatha grins at Yelena.

“If you’re so insistent, you and Kate should be much more open about your situation. That’ll give us the confidence we need.”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Yelena deadpans, and Natasha scoffs.

“Right, like you haven’t run off every single man I’ve seen try to cozy up to Kate. You literally ran one off like two months ago now.”

“I’m a lesbian!” Kate exclaims indignantly, and Natasha’s head swivels. She blinks, hard.

“I’m sorry, since when?”

“Since forever, I just haven’t told Clint and Laura. Mom’s been in denial, it’s half the reason she won’t talk to me.”

“Fuck her, she wouldn’t know how to listen or give a damn about anyone but herself unless it came with a super high paycheck,” Yelena grumbles, nudging Kate’ shoulder. “And I’m pretty sure Clint and Laura know, Katya. You can’t fool anyone. Natasha’s just oblivious. Too busy tracking down white-collar criminals or some shit.”

Natasha grins. “Well, forgive me for thinking you were anything else. But that doesn’t drive home the supposed argument that you and Yelena don’t have a possible thing.”

“We do not,” Yelena groans emphatically, flopping back against the back of the couch. “Did you just decide to heckle your baby sister extra because Mom and Dad are out of the country?”

Natasha’s grin widens, eyes sparkling. “It’s definitely a fun hobby.” She shoots a teasing glance at Wanda. “Besides, Lena, you’re not the only sister I give hell to for fun.”

Agatha cackles. “I’m not even in the sibling pod -”

“Yet,” Yelena drawls. Agatha ignores it.

“- and you still give me hell just the same.”

Natasha flashes Agatha the most charming smile in her arsenal. Wanda snickers. Natasha leans towards Agatha, just slightly, and proclaims, “Well, Agatha, we decided we were keeping you. This comes with sibling pod privileges. Just ask Kate.”

As Kate dives in, eagerly avoiding discussing the attractions in favor of family dynamics, Wanda leans back against the bottom of the couch with a small, lazy smile. For right now, this is good. She is in a room with people she adores, people she is safe with. Yelena has been nothing but affectionate all evening, keeping Wanda close while also giving her space to breathe. Kate has stayed with them, or lingered close to Agatha - who’s been content to watch the chaos and throw in an occasional quip from over the top of her book. Natasha has presented herself as playful and snarky, as usual, though Wanda definitely catches her on alert from time to time.

Agatha glances up from her book briefly, and her eyes find Wanda’s in an instant. Wanda can’t see her smile, but the softest crinkle to the corners of her eyes makes her stomach flutter, and she scrunches her nose back with a sleepy grin. How do I feel so safe right now?

She hasn’t felt this close to okay in three months.

She takes advantage of the moment, memorizing every angle of Agatha’s face - though it has to be the tenth time she’s done this; she really does spend a lot of time watching this woman. Wanda tries not to linger on watching her lips as she grins and laughs at something Natasha says. 

You still aren’t even close to ready to love someone. Who the hell are you to believe you’re worthy of being loved, anyway?

Surprisingly, Wanda feels pretty strong at this moment. The people who led me to feel that way took advantage of my trust, and they hurt me. The way they made a child feel are not the truth.

Oh, that’s cute. Did Kaplan teach you that? I should have remembered something else that doesn’t apply to you.

I’m not going to listen right now. Just shut up and let me have this.

Wanda blinks, and feels a swell of pride in her chest. It burns on its way up, bringing her eyes to water. Then her eyes meet Agatha’s again.

The older woman’s face softens, and the world goes a little quieter for a minute. She bookmarks her progress, setting the book aside, and positions her hands close to her lap. Agatha barely moves, but Wanda can understand the near-imperceptible hand signs instantly. Bedtime?

Yes. Happy but all too much. Head loud too. Help, please.

Agatha’s forehead creases with faint concern for barely a second before she claps her hands softly, standing up. “I think I’m going to turn in, honestly. I hate doing so, but we’ll take it a step at a time over the next several weeks.”

Wanda catches the drift immediately, folding her legs under her and standing up. “Want company for a bit?”

“You two share a brain cell,” Yelena says with a flap of her hand, which Kate immediately slaps down with mock sternness.

“Lena, we really aren’t much better.”

“And I catch the backdraft for both of my sisters and my friends, which means I am content to see Clint and Laura when I can. Good night, everyone.” Natasha leans across the sofa to place a smacking kiss to the side of Yelena’s head, then stands up with a grin. She ruffles Kate’s hair, making the younger woman laugh, then turns to wrap her arms around Wanda, then Agatha in turn. Wanda just smiles and, after bidding everyone good night, makes her way down the hall to her room.

“Hey, superstar. You asked if I wanted company.”

Wanda turns with a cheeky smile. “Do you?”

Agatha is a couple of feet behind her, smiling right back as she catches up. She wraps her arm around Wanda’s waist, pulling her close to Agatha’s side and pressing her lips to Wanda’s temple. “Obviously. My room or yours?”

“Hmm…” Wanda hums before making her decision, smirking as she leans into the affection. “For the final night of this trip, let’s do yours. Um…” she pauses, a flicker of nerves passing through her. She wants to ask, because she really is against the idea of sleeping by herself tonight, but it seems so forward and she can’t help but worry.

Agatha’s fingers tap gently on her side, grounding her back out of her threatening spiral. They’ve reached Agatha’s door, and the older woman turns to meet Wanda’s gaze. Wanda’s brain short-circuits at those eyes searching hers, and Agatha smiles gently. “Works for me. You’re sleeping in here, though. I’m not letting you face nightmares alone, honey.”

Wanda blinks back tears, momentarily undone by how seen and how loved she’s felt, how loved she feels right now. Her sisters, Kate, they want to fight for her. Agatha fights for her daily, shows her what it means to be cared for in a way she thought would just fade when she left Alexei and Melina’s little Ohio house.

She’s not sure how easy it’ll be to believe these things when she’s back in New York. But being here, with her people, has been necessary. And the more kindness Agatha shows her, the more she unravels.

The more Agatha pushes past her walls, the safer she feels. It’s been a peculiar feeling for months now, safety - but she’s missed it.

She smiles weakly up at her friend, eyes filling with emotion again. Her voice is “Okay. Thank you. I was scared to ask - I just…”

“I know, sugarplum,” Agatha murmurs, leaning in to kiss her forehead with nothing but tenderness. “I know. You’re not sleeping alone.”

When the door clicks shut and locks behind them, Wanda immediately wraps herself around Agatha’s middle and buries her face in her shoulder. “Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“Well, you won’t do it for yourself,” Agatha replies simply, bringing her hands up to cradle the back of Wanda’s head and keep her close. “So somebody has to. And I happen to find you incredibly endearing, so it’s not a difficult task. I want to look out for you, even when you learn to do it better for yourself. Hard not to when you care so much about somebody, you know?”

Simply put, Wanda melts. She nuzzles in closer to Agatha’s neck, breathing in the floral scent she’s come to enjoy so much. “I know you don’t mean it in a way that makes me think like this, but when you say things like that, I can’t help but want more.”

“More of what, my sentimental speeches?” Agatha drawls quietly, making Wanda giggle. The vibrations must tickle, Agatha’s breath hitching at the sensation.

Before Wanda can stop herself, she noses her way to the curve between Agatha’s neck and shoulder. If her lips happen to slowly press against the skin of that junction, Agatha clearly isn’t complaining. When Wanda speaks, it’s muffled yet clear enough.

“Just more of you. More time. More of…this.” She pauses, then adds in a hushed, trembling whisper, “I want to kiss you, when I’m not such a disaster.”

She feels Agatha go still for a moment, and she worries she pushed too far. But then -

“You’re still the most beautiful disaster I have in my life,” Agatha replies, in a whisper that’s probably supposed to sound conspiratorial, but Wanda catches the faint tremor. “You make it very difficult to wait on any of this, when you talk like that. I’m trying to be mindful, but it’s not easy.”

Wanda smiles just a bit, nuzzling against Agatha’s neck again and selfishly enjoying the slight shiver she can feel in response. “Couldn’t we…do we have to, though? I know…I know I’m in a bad place, and we’d have to take shit a day at a time, but I…”

“I’ve wanted this since I helped you off the floor in January.” Agatha cuts her off, quiet but firm. “I tried rather fucking hard to stop myself from feeling the way I do. I’m basically ancient compared to you.”

“Not when you consider the shit I’ve put my body through,” Wanda mumbles darkly, and feels a rush of satisfaction at Agatha’s chuckle.

“That was dark even for you, toots. What I’m trying to say is…we have a lot of factors. A lot of them. Your mental health and my constant maintenance of my own aside, there’s the power imbalance -”

“I don’t have you as a professor, and not that you’d do this, but I’m pretty sure Lilia would hit you with a shoe if you tried to do anything to sabotage my work in her class.”

Agatha laughs a little harder, carding through Wanda’s hair with her fingers. “And I’m worried about you.”

“Doesn’t that come back to the first point?” Wanda pulls back just enough to look into darkening blue eyes. “Mental health maintenance?” 

“Not entirely. I don’t want to end up re-traumatizing you in any way. But…” she sighs, presses her forehead against Wanda’s. “I would be okay if it happened, nothing would change, but the thought of you with anyone else makes my heart hurt.”

Wanda exhales slowly, reaching up and brushing the backs of her fingers across Agatha’s cheek. Her mind briefly wonders how the hell this is actually happening, if any of this is right in the moment, but the considerations only drown in the weight of Agatha’s intense gaze. When she speaks, just one short sentence, it’s low, as if afraid speaking too loud will break this odd yet intoxicating trance they both seem to be under.

“Then you know how I feel.”

She’s not truly sure what she’s saying, just what she means. She isn’t even certain of how she reached this point, to be frank - she was fighting this a mere few weeks ago; at what point did it change? At what point did she start to crave time with Agatha more than slightly fearing it because of the way the woman tears down her defenses so easily? At what point did she stop jumping at her touch - when did she start to crave it, and more of it?

I’ve always wanted it, since that first day. I’ve just been too afraid to accept that I wanted it.

Agatha’s fingers brush along her jaw, tilting Wanda’s chin up for their eyes to meet. Her eyes are nearly violet, but she seems slightly calmer than she was moments before. “I know, sweet girl. Now, not to avoid the topic, but I have to ask. Are you actually ready for bed? If not, how do you feel about going outside for a little while?”

Wanda’s only taken aback at the subject change for a moment, before she breaks into a grin. “I feel like you’re bribing me to avoid telling me ‘not yet’ again, but I’ll bite. I could go for one more night watching the stars. No trails?”

Agatha shifts and gives Wanda’s nose a peck, earning a quiet giggle. “Not tonight. Behind the cabin, where the outside lights fade a little bit, you can see some pretty cool stuff.”

“Let’s do it.”

To their surprise, everyone else actually has gone to bed, so the pair makes it to the back of the cabin with no questioning eyes. Agatha unfolds the blanket she brought out, and Wanda immediately sits and pulls Agatha down next to her. Agatha chuckles at the younger woman’s eagerness, but wastes no time settling back onto the blanket.

“Andromeda,” Agatha murmurs a few moments later, after they’d been pointing out different pieces of constellations as they’ve seen them. Wanda beams and nods. She’s loving every second of this - if Agatha was trying to distract her from the earlier conversation, she’s reticent to admit that it’s working.

“Nicky loved doing this,” Agatha whispers suddenly, and Wanda’s attention snaps to her face. Agatha is gazing directly up at the sky, but the light from the moon doesn’t hide the glassy sheen to her eyes. Wanda feels her chest tighten with an empathetic sort of sorrow, and she wordlessly scoots in closer, not touching Agatha but close enough to offer the comfort if it’s wanted. Then it hits her.

What Agatha said in therapy. All those weeks ago now.

“Next week?” She blinks, then immediately realizes that what escaped her mouth was not her intended response. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that so -”

“Wanda. It’s okay. Slow down. I didn’t find it bad. You’re correct.” Agatha looks at her now, expression softening with a new sense of vulnerability. “I think about him every time I get to be outside, looking at the sky at night. I think about Rio. How much life has changed, how much I still miss them, but how they’d actually be somewhat proud of how I’ve come out on the other side. At least…I’d hope they would be proud.”

Wanda’s fingers barely brush against Agatha’s arm, ruminating on what she’s said. Would Pietro be proud of me?

No. Why would he be?

Because I haven’t given up yet.

That’s a bullshit excuse.

Be quiet.

“I think they’re proud of you,” she says softly, before she can stop herself. “You know, if you ever want to talk about them, or talk about things when they’re really hard, I’m here to listen too, right? I’m…I’m not good at it, not yet, but I’m trying to do better about it. I don’t want to be the center of anyone’s universe to the point of not knowing they’re struggling.”

“You know I’m going to worry about you regardless, right?” Agatha drawls with a weak smirk, and Wanda chuckles and scrunches her nose.

“I’d rather you didn’t. I can stand on my own sometimes.”

“But you don’t take care of yourself when you stand on your own,” Agatha murmurs back, turning into her side and reaching for Wanda’s hand. “And I know you’re trying. And I know it feels like the entire fucking world is just sitting on your chest.”

Wanda sighs, dropping her gaze. “I know. I don’t…I don’t like feeling this way. I hate it, but it’s like it never fades out enough to let me forget it’s there.”

“I don’t want you to carry it alone.” Agatha shifts slightly closer, but Wanda is still ruminating, still desperately searching for a way to not feel so selfish and self-centered and generally shitty at being a friend.

“But I want to help you, too.”

“And I want you to grow and heal, so we can support each other for as long as we have each other. Knowing you’re here with me, and that you care with as much of yourself as you do, is a perfect start.”

Wanda says nothing at first, but brings Agatha’s hand, still wrapped in her own, closer to herself. Without making eye contact, she presses the back of Agatha’s hand to her lips, trying to convey something she can’t even make sense of in her own head. She nearly misses the soft, yet sharp inhale next to her, but says nothing except, “I’m scared of living so many of my days, but…for the last couple of months, sometimes, I want to fight back. It’s super fucking slow, and I know nothing is permanent. But I think a part of me is trying to stay. Until the rest of me catches up with the idea. And…I think I can say that I’ve got you to thank for that. In part, at least.”

She only has to wait for a moment, still staring at their hands. A soft exhale catches her attention.

“Look at me, darling. Please.”

To Wanda’s own surprise, she immediately snaps her gaze up to Agatha’s darkened, yet ever so gentle eyes. The older woman smiles, leaning closer, and Wanda feels her cheeks warm at something she cannot explain in Agatha’s eyes. “Good girl. I needed to see those pretty eyes for a second. That, what I just heard from you… that’s why I don’t want you to have to feel so alone. Knowing that I…god, Wanda, do you know how it feels to know you have that effect on someone? That you did something right, and someone else feels a little more loved because of it.”

She reaches up with her free hand, brushes the curve of Wanda’s cheek, eyes shimmering. “Honey, you’re already doing what you’re trying to learn. This may not always be the biggest way you can help, but you’re helping me heal by proving to me that I can actually do something right, and by not running away from it. That I can feel connected to a person, a group of them, and not immediately want to reject it. I thought I couldn’t feel this way again, honestly, no matter how much Rebecca kept trying to tell me I could.”

Wanda doesn’t fight the tears that spill out, but her nose scrunches and she feels nothing but a rush of affection and her heart skips. Agatha, never one to speak without action, leans in and presses their foreheads together. Wanda gasps, just slightly, as her eyelids flutter in surprise, and Agatha chuckles. “You are so fucking cute.”

“I am not,” Wanda mutters, pulling her lower lip between her teeth subconsciously. “But - I’m glad I’m doing you some good, too. Even if it doesn’t feel like I am.”

Agatha hums quietly, then adjusts to lie on her back, pulling Wanda in against her side. A laugh bubbles up from the younger woman’s throat, and she embraces the offered affection like she’s never wanted anything else. Her eyes drift back up to the sky, traces of a smile on her lips.

As the peaceful quiet of the night washes over them, Wanda can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she can live through this - and whether she can learn to weather the storms as they come.

With the woman holding her, and the family in the cabin, she might be starting to believe it.

Chapter Text

“Did you pick your solo yet?”

Wanda raises her head, blinking to look away from the text she’s spent the last half hour trying to absorb from Strange’s storytelling workshop. Her eyes focus on Alice, who’s watching her curiously. Wanda thinks for a moment. “Wait, what are we talking about?”

Alice sighs, glances at the text on the desk, then at the mostly-untouched coffee (once iced, now completely room temperature). Her eyes meet Wanda’s, and she tilts her head. “You look like you're doing way too much.”

“I’m really not,” Wanda counters, but it’s weak and she knows it. She glances at the book below her and lets out a defeated huff. “I can’t focus. At all. It’s not going in. My brain is just - stuck.”

“Have you eaten since you got up?” Alice asks, and Wanda sighs and lowers her head to her arms.

“Next question, that doesn’t usually affect my concentration.”

“If you want to go there, I will happily detail exactly how starving yourself under stress can and will fuck up your concentration.” Alice is earnest, laying a hand on top of the page Wanda’s been glaring at, letting out a pointed huff when Wanda doesn’t look up. “You look like you’re not doing great, and whether it’s because you’re dealing with a lot of stress or if it’s your unresolved trauma, it feels like you haven’t been checked on for a minute. Where the hell is Agatha?”

Wanda tenses, slides her book daintily out from under Alice’s hand, and closes it quietly. Her voice is startlingly clipped, quiet, forced calm. “She took a week and a half of family medical leave. Her late wife’s mother was severely ill, and they were pretty close for a long time, so she went to check on her. She told me I could text her if I needed anything, and she let me know she was coming back tonight and all was well.”

Alice looks unpleasantly suspicious. “And you just — what, you decided you could do a week and a half handling yourself without any support?”

“I’ve been to therapy,” Wanda retorts indignantly, pushing her chair back and rising (and ignoring the faint dizziness that threatens her vision). “I’m supposed to be at my next appointment in an hour, actually. I’ve been fine.”

“Wanda.”

Wanda makes a too-cheery sound of acknowledgement. Alice sighs deeply. “Dude, you’re the person who always asks Lilia a million questions. You were almost asleep in class yesterday. And Jen asked me if you’d picked a solo for showcase yet, and I meant to ask you yesterday.”

“I have picked one,” Wanda grumbles, shouldering her bag and averting her eyes. She can’t deal with the concern in Alice’s eyes, not right now. “I’ll text her the song and style. I have to go, the bus leaves in ten and if I miss it, I’m going to have to walk to Rebecca’s office. It’s supposed to rain, and I’m thinking about picking up a shift at work tonight. I’m fine, Alice. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now. But thank you for checking.”

She strides away after flashing what she hopes is a warm-ish smile to her friend, whose perplexed gaze follows her out of the library. She’s now got to figure out whether she genuinely wants to force herself to pretend she’s completely fine for Rebecca. It defeats the entire point of therapy, but the realization that she’s become almost dependent on someone to the point of feeling their absence like this again is - well, frankly put, it’s terrifying. Last time she had a dependence, that dependence was ripped from her at the fucking Chevron across from campus, in the span of five minutes.

Agatha is her own person. Agatha needs this time with her extended family, because Agatha has lost and lost and still loves like she doesn’t care about losing again. Wanda should not be burdening her with this. It’s repulsive, vain, and childish, and she can handle this on her own.

She can’t need anyone like this again.

Alice:

She said she has a solo, and she’ll text you, but I think we have bigger fish to fry.

She looks bad. Have you seen her lately?

Like, I know we don’t spend a TON of time with her, but Lilia cares about her because Agatha cares about her. And I’m starting to worry about her.

Jen:

I know.

I haven’t really spoken to her much. I’ve tried to, but she hasn’t even been talking to anyone in the building. She comes in, goes to her classes, kicks her own ass in the dance room, then leaves like she’s trying not to be seen. But she looks like she isn’t feeling great. Dark circles, super pale…I don’t even know if she’s sleeping.

She was fine that first week after break. Really good, actually - most she’s ever talked to anyone in the building. And she brought a snack to her class that I passed by on Thursday. She was really making an effort - it does make me a little nervous that she’s clammed up again.

Should I talk to her?

Alice:

Agatha comes back in tonight, apparently - I feel like she’ll know just by looking at Wanda. Any time I see them interacting publicly, Agatha just seems to be tuned in on her.

But maybe? Also I’d text Wanda about the solo. She was barely focusing on classwork when I saw her, so she might not remember.

“So,” Rebecca starts the statement off casually, warmly meeting Wanda’s gaze. “How have you been holding up?”

Wanda blinks, masking the faint alarm bells ringing in her mind behind a steely sort of calm facade. “I’m - I’ve been okay. Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

Rebecca smiles grimly. “You tell me, if you’re comfortable. But you’re fidgeting, whether you recognize it or not. You’re safe to do so, obviously, but I thought I might ask.”

Unconsciously, Wanda’s spine stiffens, and she ducks her head to play with her fingers within view. She twists the slender silver ring on her left index finger - the one with the lone, dainty sapphire peering up at her. It’s the one Pietro gave her on their last birthday. 

Before her life was ripped apart again.

Fuck, she misses him so much more today than she has in weeks.

Because you’ve been slacking, you selfish bitch. You’ve let yourself get too comfortable.

“I’m fine,” she deflects, in the smallest whisper. She misses Rebecca’s sad, understanding smile, and how the therapist leans forward in her desk chair.

“Wanda, the point of therapy is to talk through things when they bother you. I’m not saying you have to dive into anything new today, but -”

“I’m scared I’m getting to be too dependent on other people,” Wanda whispers, and Rebecca stops mid-sentence to redirect her train of thought and listen. “Agatha went out of town for a week and a half. Visiting Rio’s mom. I guess they’re close still, to an extent, as it should be. I should have been fine. I’m an adult. I’ve tried to stay busy, not reach out, not pester, just work and go to class. But a classmate of mine said I look like I’m not sleeping, and I can’t focus, and I feel like I’ve become entirely too needy and can’t rely on myself anymore.”

Rebecca watches her closely for a moment, really looks at Wanda, and the contemplative look in the therapist’s eyes makes Wanda want to melt into the couch, out of visibility and vulnerability. When Rebecca speaks again, it’s slow and measured.

“Have you been sleeping? Or eating?”

Wanda could lie, could say she’s been fine and just too busy to look very put together. She could keep pretending, keep clinging to the excuses and cover stories she wears like armor. She could fake it, until she’s okay again, at least until she believes she can let it pass.

But her mind drifts. It leaves the office, travels back to that afternoon in the middle of spring break - the hurt and devastation in Yelena’s eyes, realizing just how much Wanda had been trying to hide. It remembers the pain in everyone’s stares, all of the times she’s fought to keep it to herself. All the times she’s believed that she deserves to suffer, and the desperate resolve in the faces of the people she loves. They keep throwing her buoys, and she never holds on for long.

Rebecca isn’t Yelena, isn’t Agatha, isn’t her family. But the more Wanda opens herself up, maybe she’ll be able to just keep the lifeline available with them too.

Her head turns to one side, then the other in a slow, shameful motion as her eyes drop to the floor. Her voice barely rises above a whisper, but in the deep silence of the office, she knows Rebecca can hear it. “No. I haven’t been doing any of it. Sleeping, eating. When I close my eyes, I see everything that has ever hurt me, anything that could happen - the things that have resurfaced lately. And then I…” she trails off, her voice catching behind the lump in her throat, and she moves from twisting her rings to picking at the skin around her nails.

She doesn’t quite register the sound of rustling fabric, the click of shoes across wood floors, until a small fidget cube is extended into the peripherals of her vision. The bright colors fill her senses, catch her attention, and she looks up to see Rebecca perched delicately on the coffee table, toy outstretched in her fingers - not pushing, but offering. “It’ll be much better if you work through this without hurting yourself, honey.”

The kindness in that statement nearly breaks Wanda completely, and she blinks back tears again as she takes the cube daintily. Her voice comes out higher than she intends, and she already knows what’s coming out of her mouth, but she can’t stop it. “What if I don’t know how?”

Rebecca’s eyes flash with understanding, and she offers a half-smile of encouragement. “I’d be more than happy to help you learn. Do you…”

“Yes.” Wanda sighs, dropping her gaze again in resignation, assuming she knows what Rebecca was going to ask. “I’ve self-harmed on and off since I was twelve. It was almost constant for about two years as a teenager, but was infrequent from the age of fifteen to this past winter.”

The other side of Rebecca’s smile never comes. Instead, she frowns, tilts her head. “And since your brother?”

The tears break just then, but she fights to keep her voice steady as she replies, almost in a monotone, “I go anywhere from a day to a week or two without it. Two weeks is the best record so far. I try, but…I don’t feel like I can fight it without him.”

Rebecca thinks for a moment, then asks, “When you’ve gone longer than a day or two, what has helped you get to that place where you felt you might be able to do without it?”

Wanda looks up, feeling herself stiffen, before it dawns, and her speech is slow and labored, as if the realization knocked the wind out of her. “Spending time with Agatha. Or my sisters. Because they all know, but Agatha is so aware of what it looks like when I’m slipping that sometimes she picks up on it before it’s too much. And it…that’s bad, isn’t it? That I’m so dependent on her now?”

Rebecca smiles. The warmth in it is palpable, and oddly soothing for as much as Wanda keeps her guard up in this room. The therapist leans back, watching Wanda expectantly, but when she doesn’t put it together, Rebecca says it for her.

“Not when you can’t depend on yourself, Wanda. In many circumstances, this could be considered codependency - which, yes, is negative in its connotation. But you?” She leans forward again, eyes never leaving Wanda’s wide green ones. “Wanda, you’ve never had time to process your trauma properly. Any of it. And I know there’s more than what you’ve told me, which is understandable. It takes time to be willing to pull the bandages off and examine the old wounds. Your intense desire to be independent and self-reliant, knowing your typical mental state, is likely borne of feeling abandoned or betrayed by most of the people you allow close to you. Or losing them to tragedy, and blaming yourself for being the survivor.”

Wanda sighs, eyes looking to the fidget cube she’s holding with a vice grip. “So…it’s not bad? For me to hold on to someone else?”

“In this situation, Wanda, I think you’re fine. I actually think your willingness to let Agatha in, even when you feel like you’re being crushed under a mountain, is a good step. It’s necessary, honey. Your coping mechanisms aren’t ideal, and you never have had the opportunity to learn to process these things. It’s a wonder you can get through the day, so it’s reasonable that you’re exhausted in every sense - so if someone else can hold you up, or carry you for a while, it is okay to let them.”

“But this period of time is rough on her,” Wanda whispers, the tremor in her voice too audible. “I didn’t - if she was visiting Rio’s family, I wasn’t going to bother her.”

Rebecca quirks an eyebrow, and clears her throat. Wanda looks up. “Did she ask you not to contact her while she was gone?”

Wanda’s lower lip is pulled between her teeth, the vocal tremor extending to her fingers now. “No. She explicitly told me to text her if I needed her, and to keep her updated on how things were going. She seemed - really conflicted when she was leaving. She wanted to go, because she knew seeing them would be helpful right now, but after the incidents during spring break, she was worried.”

Rebecca cocks her head to the side, appraising Wanda carefully. “She cares about you. She will always carry a little bit of guilt over her wife’s passing, even if she shouldn’t — that’s not me breaking protocol, by the way; you two are friends, and we’ve discussed this with you in the room before. That said, she wants to know you’re safe, because she thinks she couldn’t save Rio. Before you go into a guilt spiral, though, I do think she’ll understand if you’re honest with her about why you didn’t reach out. One final thought, though…you keep mentioning spring break. Are you comfortable telling me what happened?”

She watches Wanda closely as the girl freezes, eyes going blank and distant for a moment. “I…something from my past reared its head. Some one, I suppose you could say, but…”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you can’t,” Rebecca interrupts gently, but Wanda shakes her head.

“No, um…I know we’re close to time, but someone who hurt me very badly when I was a child is running from the justice system right now, has already crossed state lines in this direction, and…I had put so much of it to the back of my mind. I had tried to just forget about it, thinking it was something I left behind when I left that part of Cincinnati. But now he’s on the move…and I wasn’t…” She trails off and looks up at Rebecca, feeling intimidatingly small and weak as she ends quietly with, “I’m just hoping he’s not looking for me.”

Rebecca is silent for a moment, processing, brows furrowed, before she looks at Wanda, expression gentle but unreadable. “Did you ever report it? Is he on the run for what happened to you?”

“No. I had hoped he wouldn’t hurt anyone else, and I was in a really bad foster home with Pietro. They were the crazy religious type, you know, so they forced us to go to the youth group at their church down the street. Victor was the youth pastor, assistant, whatever, he was new-ish there and the Proctors thought that someone else with authority from our general part of the world we were born in would…I don’t know, maybe ‘straighten us out?’ But…all he did was kill the last of my childhood. I guess when we ran away, after the worst time it happened, I wasn’t the last. He tried to murder one of the girls he’s hurt shortly before spring break, she’s only fifteen and I guess tried to fight him off. But I…I think I’m the only one who hasn’t come forward yet. I didn’t think they would believe me. Any of them.”

Rebecca sighs deeply, glancing at the clock on her desk, and looks at Wanda with an apologetic expression that says we’re out of time, I am so sorry. She stands up, brushing off her pants, and Wanda follows suit. “Wanda, honey, if you’re okay with it next week, I think I’d really like to start working on healthy coping skills to respond to triggers, once we identify yours. It sounds like we have more unpacking to do, we’ve barely scratched the surface, but if we’re going to do this, I’d rather you be prepared with ways to stay safe. These are your sessions, so you are allowed to refuse this next request of mine, but I would really appreciate it if you could bring Agatha along next time. I feel she could help keep you safe.”

At the office door, before it’s opened, Rebecca turns to look her dead in the eyes. Her voice has gone serious, firm, no room to argue. “And in closing, Wanda, I’m going to tell you something you’re probably sick of hearing. But what happened to you is not your fault, and it is not your fault that any of this is currently happening. You are not responsible for the actions of your assailant. Please make sure you surround yourself with as much comfort as you can tonight, you’re likely to feel pretty vulnerable. You were brave today.”

“I’ll try,” Wanda starts to lie as she wipes her last tears away, but a single raised eyebrow from Rebecca makes her correct it. “I - considered working a little tonight, actually, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Do what’s safest for your body and your mind. Go try to eat something, try to rest. If you hear from Agatha, if she wants to help, I can trust you’ll let her. I’ll see you next week.”

Wanda:

“Teenage Dream” by Olivia Rodrigo.

My solo. Sorry I didn’t get it to you sooner! I’ve been pretty distracted this week. Every class is doing SOMETHING.

Jen:

Hey, you’re okay. Thanks, I’ll pass that off to Robbie tomorrow.

But…are you good? Really?

Wanda:

You know what, no. I’m not. Not right now.

But I might be.

I think I will be.

Jen:

That is incredibly honest of you. Good job.

We’re here if you need anything.

Agatha texted Lilia to ask how you’ve been doing. You should probably talk to her.

Wanda:

I know. She called me, and I guess we’re doing something later tonight.

I’ll never understand how two college departments have shaped my entire support system, and neither of them are my actual major.

Thank you. We’ll set something up soon.

Chapter Text

Rain. Winding roads. Mama’s scream.

“Harlot!” Wanda’s sporting new bruises under her dress - Mrs. Proctor hates her and she doesn’t understand why. Victor adds to the number of bruises before she leaves the church.

Pietro’s empty eyes. So much blood.

In a twist, he speaks to her -

“It should have been you.”

The nightmare wakes Wanda with a vengeance, but she doesn’t scream. If anything, her choked gasp as she startles into awareness is rather…quiet.

She sits up quickly, blinking away the rest of the nightmare. Her heart is still pounding, to the point of almost making her violently nauseous, and her entire body is wracked with tremors. Her mind spins, and she looks around, momentarily disoriented and uncertain of her surroundings. It’s dark - a quick glance at her phone shows 3:45 AM, and the thick curtains block out the streetlights. This isn’t the apartment.

Right. She’s at Agatha’s house — again. The older woman refused to let her go home. Wanda had walked through the door, and one look at the bags under her eyes and the vulnerability present in them had convinced Agatha that she would not be allowing the younger woman to return to her isolated apartment for the night.

You are so fucking weak, coming back here like a child.

The urge crashes over her like a tidal wave, the crawling sensation prickling at her skin in the worst way. A trembling breath escapes her, and she pushes the covers away from her legs. She pulls her legs to her chest and shivers, trying to steady herself. But it doesn’t work.

Her blade. She needs her fucking blade. Now.

She’s slept in this house on the fly enough times now that Agatha has extra toiletries in the guest bathroom now — specifically, things she’s figured out Wanda likes. Wanda has brought extras of a few necessities over, too. There’s probably a blade in the drawer. There has to be, the urge is too visceral and painful to resist.

Wanda slips out of the guest room, quiet and quick in her movements. Except she forgets how light the door to the guest room is, and it closes with a much harder thunk than she would have preferred.

Shit.

She tries to move quicker, making sure she can slip into the bathroom before —

Click.

Agatha steps out of her own bedroom, across the hall and slightly to the left. Her tired expression contradicts the sharp concern barely shining in her eyes. She says nothing, but her eyes speak for her.

Either she knows, or she’s just checking on the noise.

Way to go, dumbass.

Wanda, in her infinite confusion, offers a thin smile and slips into the bathroom, shutting the door silently behind her. She exhales slowly, moving to sit on the closed toilet seat after locking the door. She hasn’t even looked in a drawer, not yet, but her mind is racing.

She knows. I’m in here and she’s gonna know.

Shut up, stupid, maybe she thinks you had to pee. Get on with it, you can throw her off.

I don’t even want to be doing this. I’m so tired of it.

Lazy.

More like tired of feeling this way.

If she does it and goes back to bed, Agatha will know.

Agatha wouldn’t be angry with her if Wanda just shared the bed tonight. Agatha won’t be upset if Wanda keeps them both awake for a moment to go back to sleep. She hasn’t been angry yet.

She’ll get sick of you soon.

Her hands shake, but she stands and leaves the bathroom — though it feels more as if she’s slogging through four feet of quicksand. Her mind is screaming, telling her she’s failed again, but she clenches her teeth and pads across the hall. She stands in front of Agatha’s door silently, willing herself to knock but not succeeding at forcing her hands to move. She freezes as the door clicks open quietly.

Agatha stands just beyond the threshold, hair mussed with sleep but her expression soft. She watches Wanda, almost like she’s waiting.

Wanda forces her voice to come out. “I - I didn’t. This time. I can’t - can I sleep in here?”

Agatha smiles, just slightly, and her hands reach for Wanda’s. “You know you can always sleep in here. I’m proud of you. Good girl.”

Good girl.

Wanda’s brain turns to mush. Or it feels as if it does, even without her sleepy state. Those two words bounce around her mind, and it’s unusually quiet — except for the heat that burns through her.

Agatha pulls her in, closing the door before wrapping Wanda in an embrace that feels like survival — and long-suffering anticipation. “You like that, don’t you? Being praised, told how good you are…luckily for you, I like telling you.”

Even in the dark room, Wanda’s crimson cheeks aren’t difficult to spot, and Agatha chuckles fondly, the lingering rasp of sleep making Wanda shiver. Hesitantly, she speaks. “Thank you. For letting me sleep in your space. I know it's an open door policy, but I — it’s so hard to get used to. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Agatha sighs and kisses the top of her head, before releasing her grip and walking Wanda to the bed. “You’re too hard on yourself. But I am so proud of you right now. Think we can get back to sleep?”

Wanda nods, being quick to slip under the dark covers. She immediately grasps Agatha’s hand as the older woman settles in beside her, making her laugh quietly.

“Sweet girl, give me just a second to adjust. I’m not letting you go until we both have to get up.”

Wanda’s face flushes in the barely-there light, withdrawing her hand immediately, and Agatha chuckles again before turning her body. True to her word, the moment she’s settled, she pulls Wanda to herself, fingertips dancing down the column of her spine slowly.

Wanda’s voice is quiet, weary when it escapes her. “I miss him. All the time.”

A sigh leaves Agatha’s lips, and she presses a kiss to Wanda’s temple. “I know, sweetheart.”

Through the stillness, Wanda speaks again, softer than before. “I missed you.”

Agatha’s breath catches, and her hands press more firmly on Wanda’s back. Her voice trembles just a little, but it’s gentle instead of accusing. “You could have called, honey. I wanted you to call. I had a feeling when you didn’t. I would have listened. I will always have time for you.”

Wanda tears up at that. “I didn’t want to bother you. You needed that trip, and I wanted to be sure you could make the most of it. And…besides, you came back.” Her exhale is shaky. “He can’t come back. And it’s not fair. But you’ve come back, even though I was stressed about it and my own head. The girls come back, but that’s different somehow. You came back. And I —”

Her voice finally breaks, just enough that Agatha can’t miss it, and she whispers, “I can’t lose you. And I’m so scared I’m going to. That something is going to happen. I never let anyone in like I have you…and I was scared to call you because it terrified me to realize how much I’ve come to need you. I didn’t want to weigh you down. But I can’t do it. I can’t…and I feel like shit for it. That I can’t just handle it on my own.”

Agatha is quiet for a moment, even with her hands pressing Wanda closer to her body, cradling her like she’s something precious and not an absolute wreck. When she speaks, it’s full of feeling. “Listen to me. You are allowed to need people. In fact, it’s not negotiable. I would rather know you need me and be able to love you properly than have you pretend everything is fine when you want to die and you think nobody would care.”

Wanda releases a broken, shaky sigh as her fingers twist into the fabric of Agatha’s sleep shirt, grounding herself. “I’m scared. Everything feels…exhausting, and overwhelming, and sometimes I don’t even know how I got out of bed and made it through the day. It hurts. It always hurts, and the only time it goes away for a little while is when I’m with you. Or the girls. And I’m afraid of that because if I lose you…”

“Shh.” Agatha kisses the crown of her head again. “I am not going anywhere. If anything, you should be annoyed that I’m obnoxiously always present when you need it - whether you want me there or not. You are not losing me.”

“You don’t know that,” Wanda whispers, blinking as a few tears squeeze out.

“No, I don’t. You’re right about that. But I know that for as long as we’re both breathing, I will always be right next to you when you need me. No matter what that looks like.”

Wanda goes quiet, too quiet, before she hesitantly muses, “I wish I could make myself remember that automatically when I’m alone at home and everything sucks.”

“Then you should just start staying over here more.”

The words are calm, matter-of-fact, but they make Wanda’s brain short-circuit. “I’m already here at least once a week, Agatha. I can’t just move halfway in.”

“Can’t you?” Agatha replies, oddly nonchalant but laced with challenge. “I mean, sweetheart, it’s kind of my house. What does it matter if my guest room becomes a safe space for one of my favorite people?”

She must sense the apprehension in Wanda’s mind, because she follows it up with, “Just something to think about. I’m not saying your lease gets broken tomorrow and you’re fully moved in by Sunday. I just think that we’d both feel better if you spent more time here. Because I would be certain you’d get to sleep, and eat, and get to have comfort when you need it. And you’d get someone who might be able to give you a reprieve from the mess in your head a little more often. But we can talk about it later. Let’s try to get back to sleep, okay?”

Wanda nods against her shirt, and Agatha chuckles and moves her fingers to stroke Wanda’s hair. “Good girl. Now. Shhhhhhh.”

To Wanda’s surprise, she drifts off almost immediately. And any time her fragile consciousness could so much as have a single thought of a flashback, it’s instantly quieted by the softest press of a hand - Agatha’s - against her upper back, reassuring her that she’s safe for now.

I’ll blow out the candles, happy birthday to me

“Got your whole life ahead of you, you’re only nineteen!”

But I fear that they already got all the best parts of me,

And I’m sorry that I couldn’t always be your teenage dream…

Wanda begins the rise to her feet from a low crouch, one leg held by the ankle in her hands. She ascends slowly, the lifted leg beginning straight in front, but rotating to the side as she nears fully standing. By the time she’s reached a straight standing leg, she’s in a tilted extension, before releasing the raised leg and beginning the transition to turns.

It’s been a few days since Agatha came home, and Wanda’s only been to her apartment once. When she went, it was merely to retrieve more clothes and a few small items. It’s Saturday afternoon now, but Wanda’s not at Agatha’s house, even though she got off work an hour ago.

To be fair, Agatha isn’t home either. Because she’s with Wanda, and they’re in the dance classroom on campus. Most of the time, this room has limited availability on the weekends, but Wanda got lucky this time. With showcase in less than a month, almost every other dance student on campus has been in this classroom whenever they can find time, and Wanda definitely hasn’t been able to find time up here until now.

So now, Agatha sits on the floor near one mirror, book in hand — Wanda’s suggestion, since she knew they would be here a while. She’s clearly trying not to watch, but her eyes continue to flicker away from the page, landing on Wanda as she maps out choreography.

Wanda tries to ignore the flutter in her chest at the twitch of Agatha’s lips, the faintest smile. Focus. You’ve got a month until showcase.

She prepares for the turn sequence she’s been ruminating on for a couple of days now, stepping into position as smoothly as she can muster while thinking so much.

They all say that it gets better,

It gets better, the more you grow

They all say that it gets better,

It gets better — but what if I don’t?

Wanda falls out of her turn, frustrated at the exact moment that she loses her spot on the wall, and stops dead. In between pants, she calls to her phone, “Wizey, pause.”

The music stops, and Agatha’s book closes quietly as the older woman looks up at Wanda. “If it’s any help, it looked amazing.”

“Thank you, but it was all wrong,” Wanda grumbles, letting herself plop down onto the floor and lie on her back. “The turns looked way better in my head, I can’t get my back leg to keep up, and I can’t seem to put all of this together in a way that actually works!”

“You’re overthinking it,” a rich voice calls from the doorway, and Wanda picks her head up as Agatha turns hers. Jennifer Kale stands just inside the classroom, a faint grin on her face. “You only falter when you’re thinking too much.”

Wanda sits up, reluctantly, and regards Jen with a head tilt. “Um…can you help me, then, please? I mean, you don’t have to if you have somewhere else to be, but -”

“Hey.” Jen’s grin softens, and she strides into the room further. “I’ve been up here checking on a few things for showcase anyway, so I definitely don’t mind. I saw you struggling, and no offense to Agatha -”

“Just say it, Jenny - singing and spellcasting are my forté, not the art of dance,” Agatha drawls dramatically, smirking at Jen from over her book. The older student scoffs and raises her eyebrows back.

“I was attempting to be nicer about it, but you wrapped that up nicely for me anyway. I can help for a few minutes, Wanda,” and she turns back to the middle of the room, where Wanda sits.

Wanda’s smile is shy, but sincere as she climbs back to her feet and utters a quiet, “Thank you.”

Half an hour later, Wanda’s anxiety is considerably lessened, Jen looks proud, and Agatha has given up all pretense of trying to read her book in favor of watching Wanda rehearse. After her final runthrough, Jen gives her a dazzling grin. “There she is! That weight shift literally changed the entire sequence for the better. I don’t know what you were so worried about - this is intense, but you’re one of the most capable dancers in this damn building. Which reminds me…”

Wanda tilts her head, curiosity blooming at the not-so-subtle way Jen trailed off. “What’s up?”

“Well…I have a friend who asked me for some help, and I can’t do it. So she asked if I could help her find someone else. This friend…owns a dance studio a few blocks from here, and one of her teachers is going on maternity leave next month. She needs someone to fill in for a few months, just one or two nights per week, but there’s a possibility it could turn into that person staying at the studio more long-term even after that maternity leave ends. I know you haven’t done much teaching -”

“Not since high school,” Wanda confirms. “I did about two years helping with the toddler classes at my studio in Ohio.”

“So a very different experience,” Jen says, but nods. “You’d have a group of 10-to-12-year-old early company dancers, who already have their dances learned. You’d be there running them through classes as normal, then have them running dances and you’d make corrections where needed, report back to Jean, and so on. If you wanted, you could be present on the older company nights to give corrections and critiques - and that could be what you’d be doing on a more permanent basis. If that would be something you’d consider. I know you’re in your last few semesters of undergrad, but -”

“I’m in,” Wanda says immediately, and Jen blinks. Agatha does too, but Wanda turns her head and meets the older woman’s gaze. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t hesitate, but she’s strangely calm.

“I can’t explain, but…I want to do it. It feels right.”

You’re being impulsive, you have another job, you’re not even that good.

Agatha smiles, and Wanda feels the tension in her shoulders dissipate considerably. “I’m proud of you for trusting yourself. I think this is a really good decision, and I think you’ll be good for them too.” She rises to her feet, packing her book away in her bag, picks up Wanda’s bag, and starts to walk towards where Wanda is standing. “Ready to go?”

Wanda’s nose scrunches, and she beams, and it’s possibly the closest thing to quiet yet pure joy Agatha has ever seen on her face. She actually looks proud of herself, like maybe things won’t always be terrible nor will they always be perfect…but sometimes, they’ll be like this, and even this little glimmer of being happy is worth more than the mountain of despair and moments of apathy. “Yes please, I think I’m ready to chill.”

If Agatha wasn’t fighting against her affections before, it’s going to be nearly impossible to fight them now. She’s going to have to resort to more dry humor, more shows of support where she can just to hold herself back.

Wanda looks at Jen with a smile, taking her bag and water bottle from Agatha. “Thank you again! If you’ll send me her contact info tonight, I’ll reach out.”

“Nonsense. I’m giving her your info and her yours, but let her call you first. She has to prep a few things first. But thank you for doing this. And you’re doing great.”

This feels…good. I know it’s not forever, not right now, but this is good.

Don’t get used to it.

Wanda doesn’t argue, but her grip on Agatha’s hand – which formed almost instantly once they’d started out the door – loosens just a touch. Agatha says nothing…but if her own hand tightens its grip, and her thumb rubs the barest circle of reassurance over Wanda’s wrist, neither of them comment. They don’t have to.

Chapter Text

“Is this what you wanted?” Agatha rasps, lips brushing against the sensitive spot behind her ear, and Wanda squeaks as the vibration sends shockwaves down her spine.

“M-might have been,” she gasps in response, tripping over her words. She shivers as teeth scrape against her skin, unable to do anything but hold on. “Please, I need you -”

Agatha chuckles darkly, and it makes Wanda shudder. “Good girl - don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll give you everything you want…”

BANG!

Wanda cries out as Agatha goes limp behind her, and when she turns, the scream that dislodges from her throat is guttural at the sight.

Victor. In the doorway. Gun raised, just having discharged, and he’s got that fucking sneer on his face as he crosses the room.

“Hello, Wanda.”

Wanda sits up with a shriek, immediately clapping her hand over her own mouth to dampen the volume. Her hand is wet when she pulls it away, and she realizes there are sticky tear tracks on her cheeks. Her mind is racing, spinning in circles, and she can’t shake the imagery. But above all, she’s confused.

Her dreams are usually flashbacks, distorted, twisted, or manifestations of the darkness in her mind tormenting her. But they’ve never mixed with her current life - not like this. She’d blame it on her therapy session earlier today, but that would also require her to admit that she probably should have stayed with Agatha tonight.

(She’s also never had that kind of dream before, Victor’s unbidden interruptions aside, and the physical sensations it leaves behind, the ghosts of touch, are odd to sit with.)

Just out of curiosity, she glances at the time on her phone, realizing that she didn’t set it on the charger and rectifying that immediately. Her good habits at Agatha’s house always do fly out the window when she’s back in this fucking apartment. As she reads the time - 1:45am, that’s…less than an hour of sleep, new record - her eyes catch a notification from ten minutes prior.

It’s a text message. The number is generic, one of those stupid marketing numbers that only has six digits, but the message hits her like a train.

Unknown:

HARVEST CHURCH:

We’ve missed you! We’d love to catch up and see your smiling face soon. Upcoming events at the link below.

Wanda’s stomach twists, and her breaths are coming too quickly now. I really should have fucking stayed with Agatha.

You’re not seriously about to burden a college professor at 2 in the morning with your drama, are you?

Not yet, but I might be. Shut the fuck up for once.

Her boldness surprises her own consciousness, and she blinks before typing STOP and sending it to the marketing number.

She hasn’t set foot in that church since the day Pietro threw her clothes in a bag, took her hand and sprinted for the nearest bus station when they were twelve. She’s not sure if she remembers correctly, but she didn’t have a phone at twelve years old. Melina had gotten her first one for her when she was fourteen, if memory serves.

There is absolutely no logical reason anyone from Harvest Church should have her phone number. It should not be in the marketing database. At all.

She cleared any trace of herself from that area when they ran. Nobody should have her phone number. None of them.

Her phone buzzes against her palm, and she picks it up again. It’s a text message, not from the marketing number.

Unknown:

I’ve missed you, my dear Wanda.

But we’ll meet again soon. It’s time to stop running.

Her nostrils flare, her eyes burn and sting and threaten tears, so she squeezes them shut. Her breath stutters in her chest, and she can’t breathe, damn it, because the freight train crashes into her again.

He fucking found me.

Her hands are shaking violently, she vaguely realizes, but her heart is pounding too loudly in her ears for her to care. She somehow manages, in a dissociative autopilot of sorts, to take a screenshot of the text, along with one of the Harvest text. Her thumb hesitates over the send next to Agatha’s name and photo, and her vision blurs.

Don’t you dare bother her at this hour, you inconsiderate bitch. She does enough for your worthless ass.

I can’t do this alone. I can’t. And I won’t. I won’t survive this. I have responsibilities to other people right now.

That thought surprises her, the vague realization oddly grounding - that she actually does somewhat believe that a few other people genuinely want her to muddle through life with them. It settles something in her chest, just enough to press the icon.

She thought it would take a few minutes, if Agatha saw them at all. It is the middle of the night; they both have classes tomorrow. Wanda has to teach at the dance studio and some solo rehearsals and a short story to work on —

Her phone buzzes again, but insistently, and it startles the hell out of her. Her breath catches, pulse jumping wildly, before she sees Agatha’s face on the screen and almost sobs in relief. She feels immediately guilty over it, but answers anyway, trying to keep her voice steady. “Hi. I’m sorry to wake you up.”

“I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Agatha is calm, firm, but urgent all in one. “Wanda, baby, listen to me. I am on my way over. We are packing more of your shit for the time being, and we are taking it to my house. We’re both calling in sick tomorrow, unless you feel okay to go to work, but I am not letting you out of my sight otherwise. I will be there in less than five minutes. Start getting everything you can that you need in bags, please. Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

Wanda’s heart cracks, and she manages a choked, “Yes,” before letting out a shuddering exhale. Agatha’s voice softens.

“I’ll be there soon, angel. Just stay on the phone with me.”

“You’re not holding it while you’re driving, are you?” Wanda drawls, pushing back more of her tears to force herself to start packing. “Because I swear, if you are -”

“Oh darling, I do love it when you threaten me,” Agatha replies dryly, and Wanda giggles as her mind promptly forgets how to function. “But for the record, no, I started the car and immediately connected my phone. I’ll drive safely to you, thanks.”

“I’m starting to think you like making all of the blood flow to my face,” she grumbles, zipping a bag closed. Agatha exhales slowly, voice lowering.

“Blush is a lovely color on you, pretty girl,” she coos playfully, and Wanda sucks in a breath a little too sharply as she stands up, vision blurring for a second. Black dots dance in the corners of her vision, forcing an involuntary groan out of her as she attempts to reorient herself.

Agatha catches it immediately. “Wanda?”

“I’m fine,” Wanda forces out in ragged breaths, though she doesn’t even believe herself. “I - I’m okay.” Her head is spinning, and she needs to sit back down, but no she doesn’t, because she still has to pack and —

“Wanda, I just parked. Sit down. Do not stand back up until I’m in the room.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wanda whines, surprising even herself with the petulant tone. But she listens to Agatha, wills the voice in her mind to shut the fuck up, and falls back onto the bed with a flop. The older woman sighs into the receiver.

“I’m coming down the hall now. I have my key. I’m hanging up now, but if I see your ass standing up before I’ve reached you, I will personally discipline you.”

“Promise?” Wanda mumbles weakly with her head buried back in the pillow, and Agatha huffs.

“I’m hanging up now, I can’t threaten you when you’ll just think it’s a good time.”

Within minutes, the lock clicks, the door slowly swinging open. Wanda’s heart jumps momentarily, flashing to the messages on her phone, but lifting her head for a moment calms her nerves. She manages a quiet, “Hi.”

“Hi, sweet girl,” Agatha says in a low voice as she crosses the studio in two strides, kicking the door shut behind her. Her hands are cupping Wanda’s face with the most tenderness Wanda’s ever been privy to knowing, and it nearly makes her cry again. “I’m here. Let’s get you home.”

Let’s get you home.

Home.

Sweet girl.

It’s almost like a spell in itself, washing its way over Wanda’s nerves, and nothing else matters right now. She is safe right now. Her mind blurs, but not like before; she’s still not feeling right, but the warmth and lightness in her mind burns through her body too. Just a bit. Just enough.

Wanda nods, and Agatha’s pleased smile is nothing but tender. “That’s my girl.” She leans closer, pressing her lips softly to Wanda’s forehead, and whispers, “My good girl.”

The younger woman’s mind forgets how to form words at that, her body relaxing a little more. Agatha chuckles, kisses her forehead again with more firmness, and pulls her to sitting. Within a few motions, a granola bar and electrolyte drink packet are pressed into Wanda’s hands, and Agatha has thrown herself into packing with a somewhat amusing blend of haphazarded care. “I expect you to use both of those things, hot stuff, because psych wards are not a fun experience. And while I have no doubt that they’d start you on some medication or another, that hospital experience would traumatize you even more. And I’m not accepting your untimely death as an option.”

She turns her head, looks at Wanda firmly. “Do not argue with me. I am worried, and I am doing something about that. Don’t make a fuss about it. And to be clear, I’m not angry with you. I’m concerned, and I’m scared.”

Wanda’s eyes fill with tears now, the floaty feeling quickly evaporating. She sits up, immediately pouring the packet into the water bottle on the nightstand. “I know you said you aren’t mad, but I’m sorry. I - I got distracted, and stuck in my head about something. And then I had a weird dream and -” she clamps her mouth shut, realizing suddenly that she’s dangerously close to saying something stupid - like admitting that her imagination might have been running wild before the dream went sour.

Agatha arches an eyebrow, before her expression softens again. She lays the pair of pants she’s holding into a bag on the coffee table, then slowly walks back over to Wanda and sits beside her on the bed, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

“I know you’re trying, sweetheart. It’s okay. I know it’s not easy. We just need to try to do better and remember, right? We’ll worry about that tomorrow. I’m going to finish throwing shit in bags for you, and you’re going to sit and eat and hydrate. Then we’re going home, and we’re going to rest. And I’ll be damned if I let you sleep by yourself after this. Capiche?”

Wanda says nothing else, but nods once and looks away. It’s nearly enough to satisfy her best friend’s worry, she thinks — until two fingers catch her under her chin. Agatha gently forces Wanda to meet her gaze again.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Are you going to behave yourself and do as I ask?”

Those blue eyes are sharp, fiery, and being obliged to look into them so intently does funny things to Wanda’s insides that she doesn’t have the wherewithal to process right now. It’s too much, her mind starting to float again, but she wills herself to obey. “Yes, I’ll behave.”

Agatha’s lips curve into a small yet satisfied smile. “Good girl. Now. Stay. Let me get this finished up, and we’ll head home.”

“Wait, sweetheart, did you text the girls?”

Wanda is nearly half-asleep when Agatha’s soft, urgent voice fills her ear. Normally, the realization that she’s dropped the ball and failed to let Natasha and Yelena (and Kate by extension) know some important news would have Wanda spiraling in the space between realizing and rectifying the situation. But right now, her entire body feels heavy, as if the adrenaline has completely worn off, and suddenly she’s too exhausted to push it. The idea of texting them, even rolling over to get her phone, feels so heavy it’s almost insurmountable.

Which is odd, given the fact that the one person who shouldn’t have her phone number texted her earlier. Wanda is almost certain Rebecca would tell her that the exhaustion is some kind of trauma response - the antithesis to her “high-strung” attempts at not sleeping and poor coping mechanisms, so to speak. Or maybe she just feels safe in Agatha’s house, in her room for tonight — even if her life feels utterly terrifying right now.

Or maybe her fight is finally catching up to her.

Regardless, she groans quietly, cracking an eye open for a second - though it takes effort, as does speaking. She’s surprised the words come out at all. “Not yet. I panicked and you were the last person I’d spoken to. I doubt they’re awake. Can it wait until we wake up, please?”

Agatha sighs, resigned. “Yes, I suppose it can. Although if it’s all right, I may forward the screenshots to the group?”

Wanda makes a low, sleepy noise of agreement, eyelids fluttering shut again. She’s not wrapped in Agatha’s arms, not yet, but they’re close enough that the older woman can’t help but watch Wanda in the dark, debating on reaching for her. Deciding against it for the moment, she turns and blindly grabs her phone off the nightstand. She would “just leave it,” but she knows Wanda by now. The young woman will undoubtedly try to delay telling Natasha, not wanting a fuss to be made. And Agatha won’t be able to sleep until she knows that at some point in the next few hours, the girls will be made aware.

Her text to the group chat is simple. She forwards the screenshots Wanda sent earlier, and adds a message.

Wanda got these messages tonight. She sent them to me. I went to pick her up, and she’s staying with me until further notice. She can make other choices when we know she’s safe, if she wants to. But right now, for some fucking reason, he’s targeting her. Wanda might be one of his oldest victims, but he won’t leave her alone. WHY?

Agatha sets the phone back down with a slightly frustrated huff, immediately turning back to Wanda when she hears the girl whimper faintly. There’s ambient sound playing from Wanda’s phone — something that, Agatha has learned, helps Wanda’s mind quiet down enough to fall asleep without overworking. But Wanda’s brow is furrowed, and she looks stressed at the moment, and all Agatha wants to do is gather her up for the night. So she does, pressing her hands against the small of Wanda’s back and rubbing slow, light circles. And her mind wanders.

She was never an affectionate person, before Rio. Probably trauma-related. But it’s come in handy, and silently, Agatha can’t help but thank the woman who had shown her how good life could actually be.

It’s conflicting, thinking about Rio, missing her just a little, while comforting the young woman Agatha is undoubtedly, nearly unexpectedly falling in love with. But her mind, as if on its own, replays the conversation she had with Camila when she’d gone to Delaware several weeks ago now.

-

“So, have you met anyone interesting yet?” Camila’s dark eyes sparkle with playful affection as she washes dishes, looking back at Agatha with a grin. “I’d think you could handle just about anyone, mija, given how well you kept up with my daughter and Nicky.”

“It’s not like that, Camila,” Agatha drawls, but she can’t quite meet the woman’s gaze. Camila sets her dishrag aside and huffs, hands on her hips.

“Agatha, you haven’t called me by my name since you were twenty-five, unless you’re trying to avoid talking about something.” Her voice is firm, knowing, but gentle and kind all the same. “Now who is she, and is she nice to you?”

Agatha groans, feeling less like a college professor and more like a teenager as she drops her head into her hands. “Mami, it’s complicated. We’re not even dating, I don’t want to hurt her and she’s going through a lot so I’m just trying to help and - wait. Why are you even asking about this?” She lifts her gaze.

Camila’s eyes have softened. “Because, mija, my daughter would hate it if you never found someone again. I know you two were a little jealous of everybody else, but she loved you more than she knew how. She would actually be so mad at you if you didn’t give yourself the chance to find a little bit more love.”

Agatha drops the act, knowing she can’t lie to her mother in law. Her shoulders drop. “Wanda is…she’s incredible, but she terrifies me. I see what Rio’s pain looked like, but similarities to how mine manifested. But even before I knew how bad it was for her, I couldn’t stay away when I tried. It was so hard to understand. But I can’t do it yet. She’s not there, and I’m the one who told her as much.”

“Well, are you really holding back for her, or are you holding back because you’re scared?“

The question stings, more than Agatha cares to admit. Her first reflex is to be defensive, and she can’t stop it, looking down at her hands folded on the table. “Mami, Wanda is in a really bad place. She’s lost a lot and she’s not taking great care of herself right now, it wouldn’t be healthy for her -”

“How does that one Taylor Swift song go, mija? ’I think I’ve seen this film before?’ I seem to remember my daughter bringing home a girl in the same state. Maybe not quite so many bad habits, but you haven’t always been healthy either.” Camila reaches out, covering Agatha’s hands with one of hers. “If this Wanda helps you, and you want to help her, holding yourself back doesn’t make sense. I know what you’re afraid of — you’d blame yourself if you lost her, but it wouldn’t be your fault and you know it. Maybe what you both need to heal is each other.”

Agatha doesn’t know when she started crying, but the tears on her face have one of the only mothers she’s ever known rising to her feet, pulling Agatha into a crushing hug. “If you need this, I’m not upset. With or without Rio, with or without Nicky, you are my daughter too. You are allowed to move on, and I will still see you as my daughter. I love you more than I can put into words.”

Agatha barely manages to choke out, “I love you too, Mami,” before melting into the hug and letting herself feel.

-

Maybe it’s still not time yet.

Or maybe it is.

With a sleepy, resigned sigh, Agatha buries her fingers in Wanda’s hair and lets herself drift.

Thursday morning breakfast - at 10:30 in the morning, after waking up to call out, that is - is interrupted by the loud, persistent buzzing of Agatha’s phone. It’s short, staccato beats, inconsistent enough to not be a call. But it’s a lot of text messages, in very quick succession.

Wanda’s lips release the smoothie straw she’s been drinking out of - though if she’s honest, she stopped drinking a few minutes ago. She’s been nibbling on the straw at this point, chewing it flat one way, then the other. It looks silly, but it calmed her nerves.

Those nerves aren’t calm now. Agatha looks over at her, eyes sharp but kind. “Put the glass down, hun. You’re going to drop it the way your hands are shaking, and I don’t feel like vacuuming up glass and leftover blueberry today. It’s just messages in the group chat.”

Wanda sets the glass down, but it’s unsteady and loud. She flinches at the sound, watching Agatha through wide, anxious pools of green. “So I guess you told them? What are they saying?”

Agatha shakes her head, then lays the phone down on the table between them so they can both read.

[2:30am]

Agatha:

Wanda got these messages tonight. She sent them to me. I went to pick her up, and she’s staying with me until further notice. She can make other choices when we know she’s safe, if she wants to. But right now, for some fucking reason, he’s targeting her. Wanda might be one of his oldest victims, but he won’t leave her alone. WHY?

*attachment: screenshot1.jpg*

*attachment: screenshot2.jpg*

[10:30am]

Kate:

I’m sorry, WHAT?

he has her number.

Yelena:

oh, shit.

this is not good.

Natasha:

Fucking hell.

I can almost guarantee it’s because she’s the only one who hasn’t come forward, to his knowledge…and if he’s targeting her now, her testimony could be damaging.

Why didn’t Wanda tell us last night?

Agatha glances over at Wanda again, whose face has gone white. “Do you want me to continue texting for us both, or would you like to fill in as well? I can make a separate group for all of us?”

Wanda springs into action as if on autopilot, pulling her phone out of her pocket quickly. “No problem, I’ve got it.”

[Wanda added Agatha, Natasha, Kate, and Yelena to a new group message.]

Wanda:

Hi, guys. I’m sorry I didn’t fill anyone else in last night - I think I was in shock.

I almost didn’t tell Agatha, but I was scared to be alone.

(She’s sitting right next to me, so don’t yell at me.)

I woke up after a weird dream and…yeah.

Harvest shouldn’t have my number. I didn’t have a phone when I lived with the Proctors.

So I’m not sure why I got a text from them, and then one from him.

Natasha’s reply comes first. Agatha, surprisingly, is sitting in silence, with a hand gently wrapped around Wanda’s free hand.

Natasha:

We’re not mad, baby. I just wasn’t sure.

And you can guarantee that the Harvest message was him fucking with your head.

He wanted to see the reaction in some way. When you opted out, it must have stoked some sick need to have the upper hand for him.

That’s why he texted you next. To let you know he thinks he still has power over you.

And I think it’s time we show him that he never will again.

Yelena:

OOOH! Сестра, do we get to kill him now!?

I’ve been WAITING for this! baton and all!

Wanda’s eyebrows raise, and despite her anxiety, she lets a giggle slip. Agatha raises an eyebrow too, but Wanda shakes her head once and starts typing.

Wanda:

Lena, do I even WANT to know where the hell you got a baton from?

Also, what kind of fucking baton?

Yelena:

that’s for me to know and your psycho abuser to find out, babe.

it…might be something I made my own modifications to. strictly for engineering purposes, of course. I’m not a monster.

Natasha:

Yelena, put the weapon down, please.

It’s not attack time yet.

We attack as a last resort, solely to claim self-defense.

For now? Wanda, honey, I think we need to handle the one thing you’ve been avoiding for eight years.

You have to call it in. They can add to his list of charges, and they’ll have updated info on his activities.

Wanda feels her body go cold and clammy all at once, and her eyes lose their focus. Agatha squeezes her wrist, but it doesn’t stop Wanda’s tremor.

“Baby, you know she’s right.”

“I can’t,” Wanda whispers harshly in response, feeling herself shrink back. But Agatha won’t let her, and runs her thumb over the back of Wanda’s hand slowly.

“Wanda, do you trust me?” The question isn’t accusatory, isn’t angry. It’s soft, coaxing, but giving Wanda the agency to reply with the truth without fear.

And Wanda realizes, in that moment, that she absolutely does trust Agatha. It’s surprising, but all things considered, it makes sense. Wordlessly, she nods, meeting earnest blue eyes with hesitation.

Agatha smiles a little, squeezes her hand. “Good. Then listen. With the charges this piece of shit could be looking at — baby, you could potentially help make sure he never even looks at another child, and that he never puts his hands anywhere near you again.”

Wanda exhales, not realizing she’d been holding her breath, and nods again. Her eyes fill with tears again, but she looks down and starts typing, pulling her hand away from Agatha’s..

Wanda:

I know.

I’m fucking terrified, to be completely honest.

I’ve told myself nobody would ever believe me. He…used to tell me no one would. That Pietro and I would be separated because I’d be seen as a lying troublemaker, and either he’d get sent somewhere or I would but I’d never see Pietro again.

He thinks he was supposed to force me into marriage or some shit when I hit legal age. I don’t completely know, and I never asked. Wasn’t really around long enough to, and I didn’t care. I just never wanted to see him again.

Sadly, I’d prefer swearing at Vis on a new burner several times a day over…this.

I’ll do it, but I am so tired.

Her tears are falling freely now, and she sets her phone aside and lowers her head onto her arms. Agatha says nothing, but scoots her chair as quietly as possible closer to Wanda’s, resting a hand on the younger woman’s upper back for a moment before beginning to trace random patterns there.

The chat picks up again.

Kate:

I’m going to destroy both of them.

I wanted to punch Vision in the teeth the day I met his stupid self. Who calls himself “The Vision” because he doesn’t want to admit that his weird ritzy dad named him Jarvis?

And if Victor puts a hand on you, I’m ending him.

Yelena:

save some for the rest of us, Katie!

Wandsy, we’re going to make it through this. you’re gonna get better, and we’re going to kill this guy.

Natasha:

I’ve told you both already, you bloodthirsty little demons, murder is a last resort. Self-defense or not at all.

But along with reporting him - Wanda, I’m coming out to see you guys this weekend. Don’t argue with me. I’d like to brush up on your self-defense and work on safety plans. I can guarantee you’re out of practice. You can call in the report to Cincinnati when I’m there, if it’ll help.

Agatha:

She’s staying with me, Nat. Which means you can stay here too.

Wait, I told you that last night. Never mind.

But either way, I cleared out Nicky’s old room last year anyway, put everything in the attic. It’s just extra book storage and another spare bedroom right now. It’s yours when you need it.

Natasha:

Wanda, marry this one or I will.

(Kidding — no offense to Agatha)

I’ll be there by 7pm tomorrow.

Agatha’s eyes widen, and a breathless chuckle leaves her lips. “Natasha is utterly incorrigible, did you know that?”

Wanda lets out a watery chuckle, lifting her head slowly. Her eyes are rimmed with red, too bright, and her face is pale, but she smiles with a kind of quiet amusement even so. “She always has been. What did she say?”

Agatha nods towards Wanda’s phone, and Wanda immediately picks it up to look. When she reads the message, mid-sip on the tail end of her smoothie, she sputters out a startled laugh and nearly chokes. Agatha’s eyebrows raise in alarm, hand raised as if prepared to swat Wanda’s back a few times, but Wanda lifts a hand and gives a thumbs-up. Agatha relents, and is glad she does - when Wanda regains her breath, her only words are, “That bitch,” before she starts laughing again.

Agatha grins in relief, turning back to the text thread.

Agatha:

Let us know if we need to do anything in the interim.

Natasha:

Just make sure my sister eats, sleeps, and takes it easy.

Kate:

Wish WE could be there, but I’ll talk to Clint this weekend and see if he has any ideas for contingency plans.

And Wanda?

Wanda:

Yes?

Kate:

Thank you for actually telling someone straight away. I know it wasn’t easy.

Yelena:

for real. fantastic move on your part, babe. actually super proud of you for not keeping it to yourself!

Agatha glances over at Wanda, reaching to brush a strand of hair from her face when she notices the younger woman’s eyes turning glassy again. Wanda meets her gaze and manages a weak smile in response. “I’m fine.”

But her cracked whisper gives it away. Agatha looks at her, really looks, says nothing at first, but stands and reaches for Wanda’s hands. She stands, smoothie glass forgotten, and allows herself to be dragged to the living room, where Agatha sits down on the couch. Wanda goes to sit beside her, until the older woman catches her around the waist and pulls Wanda into her lap sideways. Wanda squeaks in surprise, initially prepared to stiffen and shy away from being held so intimately.

Agatha wraps her arms around her anyway, pulling Wanda a little closer. “Is this okay? You just…I can tell you need a minute, and I’d rather you have someone holding you if you can tolerate it.”

Wanda’s resistance melts away, and she nods before curling into Agatha’s hold, face buried in her neck. “I’m sorry you always have to pick up the pieces. I hate this…and…my head just…why can’t it just stop?”

“It’s going to.” Agatha turns her head, brushing her lips against Wanda’s jaw with the barest press. “We’re going to get through this. And you’re going to heal, damn it.”

She kisses a spot slightly higher, voice firmer. “No matter how long it takes, no matter how many days you feel like giving up, no matter how many times I have to drag your ass back from the edge and remind you that I’m not leaving you.”

She lifts Wanda’s hand away from her neck, pressing her lips against trembling fingertips in an attempt to steady the girl. “That they aren’t leaving you. That we are all going to survive this together, and it’s going to suck sometimes, but I don’t ever want to lose you.”

Wanda’s breath catches, and she lifts her head. “I’m afraid to hope it’ll all stop without something really fucked up happening.”

“Then we face it together.”

Wanda’s lips part faintly like she’s going to speak, but she falters, eyes darting away. Agatha tsks gently at her, cupping her chin with a commanding sort of tenderness. “No, pretty girl, I know it’s hard, but I want to see your eyes right now.”

“Can’t,” Wanda mumbles in response.

“Why not?”

Wanda tucks her lower lip between her teeth, something that pushes Agatha to the brink of her own control, the longing in the forefront of her mind intensifying just a bit. But Wanda won’t relent. “Because if I do, I’m going to stop thinking.”

Agatha feels her lip twitch at the corner. “Wouldn’t that be a good thing, pretty girl? Your brain never fucking stops – might be nice if it turned off for a bit, hmm?”

Her control frays at the edges a little more at the faintest high noise in the back of Wanda’s throat. It’s nearly a whimper, and it hits Agatha hard. “Not if you want to keep putting off whatever this - thing is between us. I can’t be good if I’m not thinking straight.”

Agatha feels herself slip a little more…just enough. She wills her voice to stay low, measured, but can’t disguise the slightest crack. “You know, maybe…”

She stops herself, that familiar anxiety creeping in, but not before Wanda finally meets her eyes. And her pupils have nearly taken up all the green, but she looks equal parts enamored and fearful. “Agatha, I -”

“I don’t know,” Agatha murmurs, averting her gaze for just a moment before returning. “I told myself we’d wait, until you weren’t so overwhelmed. But I can’t keep lying and refusing to admit that I’m also holding back because I’m afraid of losing you and not being able to pull you back from the edge - I’m afraid that if we do this, it’ll only make things harder for you in the healing process. Because if we do this, I refuse to take it back.”

Wanda’s voice trembles, but her eyes are earnest. “I know. At least, I do now. It’s okay. But…I don’t want you to take it back. And I won’t either.” Her lip goes between her teeth again, and Agatha’s composure shatters.

Holding back makes no sense when you could heal together.

Her thumb comes up, sweeping under Wanda’s mouth and brushing her lip free. Her words are hushed, but rough with a messy blend of emotion and desire.

“Fuck it.”

Her lips crash into Wanda’s before the younger woman can speak again, relishing the gasp that comes just before Wanda melts into the kiss. The motion gives Agatha more access almost instantly, and she jumps at the chance. It’s somehow commanding and tender all at once, giving both of them space to break away — but neither of them do, not until air is direly necessary. Their foreheads press together, taking deep breaths as they both come back to reality.

Wanda’s eyes are wide, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and gods if she isn’t a fucking sight like this. Agatha’s fighting everything inside herself not to surge forward and take more, but she won’t, not yet. Wanda whispers, “What now?”

Agatha exhales slowly, tenderly brushing the back of her hand across Wanda’s cheek with a smile that she hopes conveys her feelings appropriately.

“One moment at a time, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Lilia texts first, then calls Agatha by lunchtime when she hasn’t texted back. Agatha shoots Wanda a playful smirk, and the redhead grins up at her from the typical comfort spot - a throw pillow on Agatha’s lap. “What?”

Agatha snickers, then answers her phone - on speaker. “Yes, Mamá?”

Wanda’s eyes widen as Lilia’s voice echoes over the line. “Harkness, what the hell is going on? You’re out, Wanda sent her call-out email — what’s happening with you two? Alice and Jen both came to see me about it.”

The flush on Wanda’s cheeks is instantaneous, chewing on the corner of her lip. “Oh, shit. I think I was supposed to rehearse with Jen before class…I’ll text her.”

She doesn’t mean for it to be so loud, and she winces as Lilia squawks, “Again, what the hell is going on? Did I miss something?” Agatha pinches her brow with a quiet sigh, then smiles faintly at Wanda before speaking.

“Wanda’s having a — safety issue, to say the least. Had to take the day off to get a few things taken care of. She’s safe for now, but she’s staying in my guest room. We’ll be back to normal next week other than that change, but right now we’re hanging out. It’s a legal matter, sort of, so I don’t want to go into too much detail, but we’re okay. Just exhausted, because we had to pack a few things after two in the morning and get her over here.”

Lilia exhales. Slowly. Her voice is much calmer when she responds. “Jesus, you two, catch a break for a change.”

“Apparently, the chaos just seems to be beating me with a hammer,” Wanda drawls, and Agatha snickers.

“We’ll be back to normal next week, Lil. Mostly.”

“Did I remember to turn in that last assignment?” Wanda muses out of nowhere, and Lilia barks out a laugh. Her tone is ever so fond as she addresses Wanda’s little thought directly.

“Yes, Wanda, you turned in the last assignment. Well done, too, I could tell you resonated with the material. You’ve got a free weekend on my end.”

Wanda’s cheeks flush, and she looks down, but she can still feel Agatha’s sharp eyes on her. All she can manage is a half-mumbled, “thank you,” as she plays with her fingers. Her hands are stilled as Agatha covers them with one of her free ones, and Wanda grins sheepishly and meets her gaze. Agatha’s eyes don’t leave hers, but she begins to speak again.

“Anyway, Mamá, you’re welcome to come say hi at some point this weekend. But we’re out the rest of the week.”

“Wait, are we?” Wanda blinks, furrowing her brows with concern. “Ugh, Strange is going to be pissed if I miss the deadline for his class.” The deadline is Monday, she knows this, but something about missing the extra chance to ask for a proofread ignites a spark of paranoia. Agatha tilts her head, the corner of her lip turning up.

“We’ll talk to you later, Lil. Love you!” 

Lilia makes a vague “goodbye” sound, clearly done with the conversation too, and the line goes dead. Agatha huffs with a smile. “I can check it for you, if you’d like. Not today, obviously, but Strange isn’t going to proofread it again if you’ve already brought it to him. You’re not the first student I’ve known in one of his classes.”

Wanda’s cheeks flush harder, and she wrinkles her nose for a second before replying. “I could have hoped for it, but alas. I might take you up on that, but, no offense…wasn’t your degree in your field?”

“Double majored in English, darling,” Agatha drawls, and Wanda gawks as her mind puts together the hours spent.

“Jesus Christ, I thought you slept?”

Agatha chuckles, leaning in slightly. “I enjoy learning, is that a crime? I wanted to be better than what I came from.”

Wanda’s breathless laugh is followed by stillness, as she pieces together the significance and purpose in Agatha’s voice. “I…you know, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about life that way.”

Agatha’s smile softens, and her free hand reaches around Wanda’s middle, tugging her further onto Agatha’s lap smoothly. “That, sweet girl, is what I’m here for. Somebody’s got to show you a new way to look at things once in a while. Helps that you have a little crush on me,” she ends with a wink, sending Wanda into more giggles. The younger woman smiles sheepishly and buries her face into the crook of Agatha’s neck, breathing slowly.

“Is it weird that I actually feel safe right now?” Wanda whispers, so quiet she isn’t sure Agatha will hear her, not daring to break the moment. But Agatha hears it, of course she does, and hums as her hands splay across Wanda’s back and pull her body flush, applying gentle deep pressure.

Agatha hums again, rocking them both side to side slowly. Her voice stays low, soft, in a way that continues to exorcise the constant heaviness from Wanda’s being — at least for a moment. “That’s exactly what I want, and what you need…so no. It’s not weird. You’re allowed to feel safe here. Because you are safe here.”

“With you?” Wanda mumbles against her neck, and Agatha fights a shudder. One of her hands moves to cradle that back of Wanda’s head, fingers slipping through her hair with tenderness…but also the slightest edge of possession.

Agatha’s voice is nothing but affection and calm. “Yes. With me.”

Wanda’s phone buzzes shortly after Agatha picks her up from the dance studio — she normally walks, which makes it slightly embarrassing, but she’s not giving herself the chance to decline tonight. Her mind is still replaying the events of her juniors class tonight - the chaotic fun definitely wears her out on Thursdays. But the buzzing of her phone makes her pulse spike, and she grips her phone without looking at the screen.

Agatha catches it. Of course she does. Her eyes scan Wanda’s face, taking in the reaction. When she speaks, putting the car in park in the driveway, her eyes glance toward Wanda’s hand holding the phone. “Do you want me to screen it? I can look at the ID for you if you want. If it’s a number we don’t recognize, we decline it.”