Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Long time no see” 

The figure stops on its tracks, bones cracking in and out of place as it slowly turns towards the sound of a familiar voice.

“You’re not welcome here, ghost” it utters in a distorted voice.

“C’mon, is this how you welcome an old friend into your home, Rio?”

“Friend?” her growl ecos, with such an angry passion, enough to make the dead and the undead shiver “I don’t recall ever being your friend, Agatha”

And the gray headed woman knows that to be true. At best, the weight of their history would never allow for such a thing. At worse, there comes a point where even a lying witch has to bend her will to the painful truth. No matter the form her counterpart chose to adopt in any given circumstance, from the kiss that gave life to the one that was followed by her demise 

Rio Vidal and Agatha Harknesss have never been friends.

“That’s a terrible name”

The ghostly figure sits on the bed squinting at the ridiculous low brightened screen that one of the teens is trying to shove at her face in between his squeals of excitement. On it, what seems to be various tries of a homemade logo mark that reads “Young Avengers”

“I mean, are you trying to get sued by the dead metal dude enterprises?” 

The “I'm a minute older than you” twin looks at his brother's face with ‘ I told you so’ written all over it. He sets down señor Scratchy back to its awkwardly oversized hutch, joining the conversation.  

“You know our kind don’t do so well on the courts” she continues “maybe let the brother sign on the work” 

“Wait, I don’t wanna get sued”

“My goodness you two, It’s not a copy, It’s an homage!” Billy sighs, in an exasperated fashion, putting the phone away in his pocket and taking a seat next to the ghostly figure “Besides, people love a comeback” 

“Oh, because the old ones worked so well?” 

Her questioning is playful, and Billy was used to that. Ever since the two of them met, bickering has been their preferred style of communication. Even so, the goth teen raises his eyebrows at Tommy, quietly signaling for backup.

“I’ve been saying It’s not really the best name” Is all that comes out of that ask

A petty argument ensues. Not one that Agatha particularly had any interest in partaking, nor that she fully comprehended what was being said. Something about the teenagers robot papa, the synthezoid formally known as vision, a dude named… lad? and a failsafe. As far as she can tell, all these people are made-up anyways. Ever since the twins reunited, the ghost had found it mildly entertaining how easily these two went from acting like awkward strangers to one another to actual brothers. As if they have known each other their entire lives. Well, in a way, they did, but she figured it ought to be a bit more complicated given the nature of their… creation.  

She herself never really had siblings. However, before the Salem seven came to be, they were once children, members of the same coven Agatha once was part of. Given that they were properly children, they were substantially younger than her, much to her dismay, because that meant every time Evanora and the rest of the coven would simply relinquish their duty as parents to do some obscure ritual that was “above her age and station” she was left to care for them. The witch always found it ironic. Old enough to know better, allegedly too young to be taught anything substantial. 

From fractures, the scene pieces itself in front of her. 

Seven pairs of curious eyes look directly into hers, waiting as she holds a pendulum steady in her hand. The bonfire cracks higher as the grasshoppers chirp away in the background and darkness surrounds them. 

“Is someone there?” One of the kids asks.

The quartz stone suddenly jolts front to back. That’s a yes, and the audience gasps at the movement. 

“Who is it?” She asks again.

“Only yes or no questions” the older witch reminded them. 

They whisper, still awed, unsure what to ask next. 

“Are you someone we know?” Another curious voice asks.

For a moment, there’s an apparent stillness. Not long after, however, the girls notice the crystal's slow circular motion.

“What does that mean?”

“It means unclear” Agatha answers, with a hint of curiosity in her voice “either that, or our friend here doesn’t want to disclose that information” 

“Are they a friend of ours?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you try asking?” 

There’s some silence, apprehension cuts the atmosphere so sharp you could almost reach out and touch it. Eventually, one of the older and more courageous girls on the bunch asks. 

“Are you a deceased friend of the coven?”

The stone moves, side to side. No. 

“Not so friendly, uhm?”

“Agatha, I’m scared” the younger one wines softly, taking Agatha’s side and nuzzling up to the older witch, hiding her face from the small pendulum in front of them. 

“It’s ok, little one” The older witch reassures her, and, for a moment, her voice does sound sincere and caring “The spirit is not going to cause us harm. Are you?”

A chill breeze cuts through the bunch as the pendulum makes its motion. Front to back, yes. 

“Agatha, what do we do?” They all move close together, with vision clouded from tears forming up. The younger one still by her side, holding her even tighter. 

“We need to figure out why It wants to harm us“ her tone gets more serious as the little witches come closer “Have we caused any harm or done any mischief?”

Yes, it moves. Silence.

“Are you going to punish us for it?”

Front and back. Agatha stands up in quick motion, shaking, dropping the pendulum as she goes. Her gaze is distant, the other witches try to follow, only to find there's nothing there.

“What’s happening?” the younger one screamed, leaving the rest of the bunch behind and tugging on the taller witches skirt “Aggie are you alright?” 

Agatha is stuck in place, breathing heavily until she collapses into the ground. The remaining witches approach with caution and concern. They stop at the sight of movement. It starts small, a flickering in her hands, and it keeps going until her whole body can’t stay still, her limbs spasm one by one in a rhythmic pattern. The bunch all stepped away, all but the tiniest one, still concerned for her. 

As the movements get smaller again, she gets closer, kneeling next to Agatha with tears in her eyes. No one but the two would’ve noticed, but a playful smile can be seen in the face of the older one. 

“Look away and go with it, kid” she whispers, furtively. 

The tiny witch, though confused, does as she’s told. Suddenly, Agatha stands up, looking directly into the rest of the bunch with a creepy smile.

“Unruly witches. Messy, insubordinate, loud, awake way past your bedtime to pester us, the dead!” Her voice creeps, distorted 

The six of them start to step backwards, while keeping their eyes in the figure in front of them. A possessed Agatha slowly moves in their direction, a smile still frozen on her face.

“Did you truly believe all the times you’ve deceived, mocked, stole from one another or neglected your duties would go unnoticed?” The spirit voice gets louder, angrier. And thus, she yells “Now prepare to suffer the consequences”

Cue the crying and terrified screaming, all the six witches run away from the creepy figure. They run back into safety, back into their camp where they should’ve been in the first place, had they not insisted Agatha held a séance for them in the dead of night.

Sometimes, being in charge has its quirks.

“That was…” the young one turns around, still behind “awesome!” She cheers.

Her tiny arms wrap around Agatha in a hug. Everything is so close she can feel it, the warmth rising to her face as the sound of laughter echoes from her throat, putting an end to the little performance she had just put on. And for a moment, the girl is so entertained by it all that she doesn’t notice the cloaked figures approaching them.

Suddenly a sting. Warmth rises once again, but now only to her left cheek.

The place where Evanora’s hand struck against. And as rapid as her laughter came, so does feeling small again.

And then cold, her own hand placed on top of her reddened skin as she coyly looks up, avoiding meeting her mother’s angry glare. All she can see is her frowning mouth as it begins to move...

“Can’t you just be happy for us? Or are you still incapable of feeling emotions?”

Except that wasn’t the voice she was expecting.

Billy’s mocking tone seems to snap her out of it. Since her untimely —long overdo— death and her new found state as a ghost, Agatha haven’t felt fully like herself. The lack of her purple undoubtedly made itself felt almost instantly. And yet, unlike when she found herself vulnerable in life, she still felt powerful. Different, but powerful nonetheless. After all, she still had some cool tricks to pull in this new form, don’t get her started on possession. 

No, it was her mind, although not quite sure if she has one on the count of the whole being dead thing, that was not quite the same. You know when they say that, before you die, your whole life flashes right before your eyes? Well, perhaps she was a bit.. distracted during her last breath, but that had not happened. Often, however, when she lets herself get lost in thoughts, memories come to her, almost as if they were happening at that very moment. 

Being that she has chosen to spend her ghostly time mostly mentoring Billy and spooking unsuspecting passersby, she found herself with a lot of free time in her hands. Much to her dismay, that also meant more memories showing up, and mostly the unwanted type at that. 

She wondered if that’s how Lilia felt, and almost regrets thinking she was just a kooky old lady (she was, but that’s beside the point). Whatever, Agatha always kept busy in life, she just had to keep herself busier in her afterlife then boom thoughts be gone. That could work

“Proud of you, kids!” She manages to say, coming back to reality “You and Toby, I mean, I don’t really care for the rest of the people you’re always…” she searches mentally for the word the younger twin often throws around “yappaling about” close enough.

“It’s yapping and you would like them if you cared to meet them!” 

“So are we still gonna move past the fact that, after all this time, she still doesn’t know my name?” The older ones chimes in 

“Toby just sounds better, I don’t know what your mo-” That’s still a sore topic, she could tell as Billy averts his eyes “Wanda had in mind naming you two nicknames”

“Okay, so can we go back to our thing now?” He stands up again, phone in hand “I got the whole outfit scheme ready too” 

And yet again the witch-turned-ghost finds herself squinting at a ridiculous dimmed down screen. The "scheme” is what seems to be a color coordinated board of photos she wouldn't really call “outfits”. Billy would probably say it's meant to be "conceptual”, if she cared enough to ask. It would be laughable if not for the excitement radiating from the teen in front of her.

“So, you kids are really doing this?” 

She stands up, moving away from them. There's a slight tightness on her chest with a hint of…Concern? Sadness? No, that would be absurd, at least for someone like her. 

“Yes, we are, and we are not kids anymore, aunt Agatha” Tommy chimes in again.

Usually, she wouldn't take this title too kindly. She's nobody's aunt, not by blood, and she would rather stay that way. However, Tommy Maximoff-turned-Shepherd went from having no previous memories to a very tumultuous home life. Well, given that his first memory would be to almost drown by the hands of his siblings and family friends, that would still be an understatement. He had a family, however, one that didn't treat him as such, in all the sad ways imaginable. That was just a feeling Agatha knew too well. So when she and Billy found him and the boy saw family in the new characters in his life, including the not so friendly ghost, she just didn't care to correct him, or at least that's the reason she tells herself. Hearing that nickname at this particular time doesn't at all make the tightness on her chest worse. Or that, at least, is what she tells herself. 

“Yeah, I know, I know” Agatha turns to face them again, trying to brush off the offness she felt “And the Kaplan’s?”

“Honestly I think they stopped asking questions when Billy came home saying he had a brother with superspeed and a new pet rabbit” 

It is now that she notices the other teen standing still at the edge of his own room. He looks focused, as he often does when trying to hear her inside voice. It was futile, Agatha had warned this much, her thoughts were simply not available. She doesn't remember when or why it had started, as far as she could tell the witch had always known to protect her mind, make nothing available… to others.

“And how did the boyfriend take it?” She asks, tauntingly, forcing him to stop trying this annoying quest. 

“He’s worried” The boy's expression becoming neutral again, trying to not look annoyed “as per uzhe”

“Nah, you’ll be fine. You and your brother have each other” the ghost floats closer “And, if you ever listened to anything I ever tried to teach you…”

“I did. Even when you didn’t let me take notes”

“Then you’re definetely going to be fine. I mean, when you learn from the best, you can only be one of the best as well, right?” 

She gives him, to the best of her undead capabilities, a pat on the shoulder, offering encouragement more suited to herself than the teen. After all, they were ready. Everyone in the room could tell, especially the one that isn’t ready to admit it yet.

“The most fierce” Billy steps back, making a motion of tossing the hair he clearly does not have “if I may” 

“You may not..” 

This time, it is Agatha that steps back. She dramatically strunts to the center of the room as the twins look at each other, puzzled. 

“Because that post is already taken”

She completes, dramatically turning around while twirling her long overskirt. The goth teen very loudly groans while rolling his eyes. His brother, on the other hand, was having a blast.

“Ok, ate that”

“O-M-G I hate gay people”

That manages to get a laugh out of her. Not that the ghost found any of the ‘clearly taken out of the internet’ jokes the apex of comedy. If anything, she was proud that the kid still had a sense of humor, despite well… everything that had gone down in his life. Like teacher, like pupil.  

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Agatha takes this very rare moment to find her way to her beloved bunny. It took a while for her to figure out how to pet the mister without spooking the poor thing, so she would take every opportunity she could get. Not only did she get to feel his fluffy fur against her fingers again, it kept her mind busy. Away from all the glimpses of her past that kept pestering her. Away from Evanora and her antics, from her time in Salem, from all her schemes and tricks throughout time…

Away from remembering her poor boy and his tragic faith. Or worse

Her… Again

Anyhow, truly a win-win situation. The ghost witch would enjoy every second of it.

That serenity, however, as it often goes, didn't last long. But it wasn't any unwanted memories that afloat. Rather, it's Tommy's, usually the quieter one, that breaks through the quiet.

“So…Speaking of gay people…”

He nudges his brother, clearly expecting him to say something. There's some mumbling through the air, though it hits Agatha's ears like a weird muffled buzzing, making it impossible to make sense of any of what's being said. This is definitely weird, weirder than their usual , at least that's the thought that comes to her mind. Finally, it's now Billy that speaks up, now directly towards the ghostly figure, still more entertained by the rabbit. 

“So… How's the crazy ex?”

Shit . Don't think about her.

"What crazy ex?” She manages to say, voice pitching up as she fails to force a nonchalant tone. 

"Seriously, why is it always about deflection with you?”

"For the record” Tommy interjects, trying to avoid the whole thing turning into a fight “I don't think she's crazy”

Great , she thought, they are going to get back to their petty little arguments and leave me alone. To give her credit, the boys continue to disagree.

"For the record, you haven't met her”

"Technically we both did… In a way”

“Ok now we are just letting her get away with not answering”

Okay, maybe not this time.

Silence again. Although she dare not move her gaze away from the bundle of fur, now hoping around at its own will, she can tell all eyes fall onto her, awaiting. 

“I don't know, kid, haven't seen her” 

It’s what she manages to respond. Unusually soft spoken, and the boys immediately notice it. Perhaps that’s why there was some hesitation on their next words.

“See, and you called her a stalker” Tommy says, trying to lighten the mood. 

"Well, she did say she hates ghosts”

Every ounce of her being is screaming just float off and leave this conversation. She pouts light, as she does when there's a feeling she's trying to ignore, meaning, often. 

“Yeah, so why are we talking about her again?”

Her voice is dryer this time. She finally looks at the both of them, stern faced and all.

"Well…” It’s Billy that steps up this time “We've been thinking…”

“Already scared of where this is going” she interrupts, sarcastically.

“Although you’re always following me around and even embarrassing me in front of my boyfriend, I know you said you didn't sacrificed yourself and became a ghost for my sake” 

The ghost witch motions closer, mouth opening as she's about to argue back 

“Which I believe, by the way” He keeps going “because there's always ulterior reasons with you…”

“When did this become my roast?”

"What my brother is trying to get to, aunt Agatha, is that we already learned a lot, and it's time we start putting that into practice”

There they go with the whole 'save the world’ dream. It's good that they want to get out there, and Agatha would never be one to discourage anyone from using their powers, witches and non witches likewise. As much as she could respect their resolve, there is still that offness she felt. 

“You are still going to need help, why not use all the help you can get? You know, true witchcraft takes years to perfect”

"While we appreciate the offer, I want to learn how to manage on my own, with my team”

Are they… trying to send her away? Never in her centuries long lifetime could she ever expect to be “let go” by two people that had no business being alive in the first place. Whatever, teenagers, Maximoffs to make it worse! Always so dramatic. 

“Then I will just find some other losers to haunt, you kids are not special!“

"But is that really what you want?” 

Billy holds back for a second, treading lightly on what he's going to say next. Or rather, how he's going to say it. His eyes look more compassionate than before, which certainly doesn't help the ghost's unease. 

“Do you really not wanna see him?”

Agatha freezes and, for a moment, it's almost as if everything around her does as well. There it is. The conversation they had before, the same day they passed. The moment she was avoiding. 

“You know I can't face him” she blurts out, looking away again.  

"You’ve said that before, but never told us why”

And for a good reason. It was one of the awful truths Agatha would've rather keep away from everyone, even herself, if that meant not bringing it to light. That damned light that just makes everything so real. 

And so she hesitates to answer. To Billy, to herself, to anyone, as she always does. 

Except it's not working this time, there's nothing else she can turn to to distract herself from the truth. The very thing that was supposed to make it easier is finally betraying her. Perhaps it's from her own hesitation and flight that the truth feels nearer every time. Perhaps it's because of it that the very thoughts she keeps so close inside are now coming back. Perhaps it's the reason she has been reliving it all. Fuck it.

And so she finally blurts out

"He will never forgive me”

Silence... The boys still look at her, both so full of sympathy she doesn't deserve.

"He will…”

She doesn't even know who was talking to her anymore, everything feels blurry, distant. Even so, she won't let herself be fooled by senseless hope.

“I've waited too long”

She turns away again, looking for the comfort of the fuzzy white fur, only to find it's out of sight. Why are there so many trinkets in this room? If only she could just hold that damn rabbit, but it's one of the things her new form won't allow. At this point, she's just ignoring the looks of concern coming from the twins. As if she needed their pity, she's completely fine. 

After all, she knew it all along. She knew from the moment he started growing inside of her. 

She would love that kid with all the light still inside her, and that she did. All that love, however, would never make her be good enough. And, from the moment he was born, she knew she couldn't protect him. After all she did, after every kill, after all the time that has passed she couldn't do what a mother does. She couldn't be there for him. That's when she was even more sure she had never been deserving of his love in the first place.

She have always known she was destined to fail him. And that, she did. She does it every single day.  

It would be silly to believe she'd ever be deserving of his forgiveness.

Her vision starts getting blurry, unfocused. Had she been alive, that's the moment the tears would start pouring. Whatever, she's not alive anymore. Focus on the rabbit. That's the problem, just a rabbit, a sneaky little rabbit that keeps disappearing when she needs it the most.

“Where are you?” She keeps mumbling to herself, floating around the room. 

Yeah, that will help, just try to find the bunny and they can move on from that subject. Tommy notices it. With a quick sweep around the room, he stands on Agatha's side with Señor Scratchy in hand, holding it next to her. That's how everything stays, for a while that is. Once again, it's the teen witch that has to cut through the stillness left. 

“You've been remembering them, haven't you?” 

“How did you…”

“Turns out your ghost thoughts can get loud enough for me to hear them sometimes” 

Although his pride betrays him, his usual cockiness is nowhere to be found. The boy sounds almost apologetic, like a kid caught doing something they were not meant to.

“It's not very clear, but I can hear hints of it when you get distracted, which has been happening a lot… Sorry”

The worst part is that she couldn't even be mad at him. Not only was he right, his powers had only grown stronger since they met. He was no longer that kid that relied on emotional tantrums or a scribbled out notebook to make magic happen. And, for reasons she couldn't even try to comprehend, he wanted to use all that to help people. Above all else, he at least tried to be good, certainly not by her influence. It's in those moments she's reminded of the tale she'd lived before.   

The difference, this time, is that the boy not only survived, he grew up. He can continue to do so. 

The ghost witch keeps her attention away from the whole situation for just a second longer. Just long enough to make her vision clear again and to get her thoughts in order. 

I've told you before. Don't you dare ever feel guilty about your talent!

Is the only one she doesn't protect, letting Billy hear it. The boy looks surprised for a moment, and then a faint smile rises on his face. 

Guess there's not really a way to escape the conversation this time. 

“So what now, the twin counsel has decided to banish me?” She goes back to her usual playful tone.

“No! we are not trying to force you to go” Tommy interjects, his loudness scarring the pet away “it's totally your choice” 

Despite his nervousness and choice of words, the boy actually sounded sincere. Billy joins the two of them.

“Honestly, Agatha, we just want you to be happy”

Happy. She wonders how long it has been. Sure, she had experienced plenty of joy in the last few years. Again, possession was actually really fun. All jokes aside, her time as a ghost wasn't at all bad, as it gave her the space to do something she forgot she took a liking to, to teach others. However, there's always that lingering ache. All the grief, sadness and pain that pierces through her heart as sharp as blades. And that brings the question: would Agatha Harkness ever have defined herself as someone who was simply 'happy'? 

That thought is promptly cut off, though. 

“Also, remember when I tried the first time?” There it is, that annoying ‘I broke this thing’ kid face again “I did some further reading later and lowkey that would've ended up badly”

“What are you talking about”

“You didn't want to teach me any spirit magic because I was not going to be needing that anymore, but I did some digging”

"Are all the Maximoff's this stubborn?” She laughs, looking at the both of them.  

"No, I think I learned that from my nanny, actually” 

Tommy tries to keep a chuckle in. Guess her influence had to show up in some way, there's truly no denying of that. 

“Anyhow, so it turns out banishing kinda sends the ghost into a limbo of sorts? It's not like most spirits know where they are going, and no one is there to guide them. Guess Rio doesn't take too kindly on those who try to defy her, but you already knew that.”

Oh, yeah, that part. Another tiny little inconvenience to the whole passing away thing. Rio Vidal, most famously known as Death. Not so famously known as her ex girlfriend/wife/somethingship, whose last interaction consisted of a very passionate kiss as Agatha siphoned her powers inevitably causing her own demise, only to then not move on, becoming a ghost instead, offering the other woman no real closure. So, you know, a very typical lesbian relationship. 

“So that's off the table” The only thing that could be worse than seeing Rio would be stuck in an infinite nothingness and never find her boy again “Suppose I do decide to go, what then?”

“That's what I couldn't figure out” He admits “Turns out, not a lot of people out there studying ghosts”

Tommy seems to be waiting for that very line, almost as if it had been his cue all along. Next thing the ghost knows, the teen is fidgeting through his phone as if looking for something. He finally lets out a happy sigh and turns back to the both of them. 

“Okay, so I tried studying too” He says, proudly “I know I'm no witch, but I found some online forums..”

“He went on reddit”

“Hey, so did you!” He shoots back to his brother, turning back to read something off the screen “So a ghost is usually a spirit that is still too connected to the world of the living, for one reason or another they feel like they still have business here, or they are just not ready to see what comes next..”

"Couldn't be me” She interjects.

“Back to what I was saying, if that's so, they can successfully pass if they let go and accept their fate. At least that's what most people believe”

“How is that supposed to change anything?”

“Technically, you would have a guide”

So, once again, all roads lead to her. The other person Agatha was definitely not in a rush to see face to face. Well, that's annoying . Guess that's what you get for dating a cosmic being. 

"Well, if it's between my ex or the limbo… I'm screwed”

“I get that she's probably mad at you for, you know, ghosting her, but this time it would be different!” he says that cheerfully, actually believing his own words “Since you actually want to be there, and maybe death will be chill and help you”

“Cute” she snarks “Trust me, kid, that woman is anything but chill”

Billy pretends to cough, murmuring the word "toxic” in between his fake fits. His brother nudges him, giving a disapproving look.

"What? I stand by what I said”

“Well, let's recap” 

She interrupts, before this turns into yet another petty chatter. She was getting too old for this, and she's not even getting any older.

“I already know I'm dead, so that's acceptance. According to your pop spiritualism the next step is that I should just let go?” Tommy nods in agreement “Of what, specifically?”

“They didn't say, because it is supposed to be very personal” He takes one more scroll at the screen, finally setting it down after not finding anything of use “You're supposed to let go of any ties you still have, so I guess only you could tell that.”

“We just wanna make sure we are not part of the reason you're holding back”

Now the sudden interest in her love life, or lack thereof, makes sense. 

"Guess I'm fired from the ghost babysitting haunting gig”

"Yeah, girl, and we all know you could never find better people to haunt”

Yeah, Billy, I know. 

Her calculated risk was perhaps a tiny bit sacrificial, after all, even if she would never admit to it aloud. She wanted to see these boys having a chance, something hers never had... However, had that been all, then moving on wouldn't even be a question, she could just do it in a heartbeat, not literally. Tommy's words still echoed on her mind, “A spirit that is not ready to see what comes next” 

She finds herself, back again, battling against the painful truth: she wasn't, she never would be

She would never be ready to face Nicky. She would definitely never be ready to see the face of the one she'd fallen for, over and over again. 

But is it really worth it to keep running? How long could she keep it up?

How long could she pretend she didn't miss them every single second her conscience was still afloat?

These questions blurry her mind, followed by hints of memories. Not really vivid, only but fragments of everything she was so strongly trying to protect from others, and, mostly from herself.

Perhaps it is time to let go .

She looks around the room, one more time. The last time.

“I suppose I did have my fun”

She smiles, teary eyed. Guess ghosts could cry all along. 

“And know you can tell him all about it”

The boys come closer, trying to hug the ghostly figure. For a moment, she could swear she could feel the warmth of that. She holds on to it, the longer she can, until everything feels distant again. 

“Well, if you don't hear from me for a while you know what happened”

“We'll miss you too, aunt Agatha” Tommy says, while not so quietly sobbing.

“Hey, don't get all sappy on me, I'm already dead” She jokes, misty eyed herself “Especially you, Billy. you were there”

“I know, and I'll be scarred for life” He manages to crack a laugh, trying to keep his own tears from falling.

Thank you, this time, is Billy's voice that says in her head, for believing in me. 

“I'll miss you too, kids” She says, out loud "Hope I don't see you anytime soon"

The ghostly figure turns away, walking slowly towards the door. She stops for a second, turning to face the boys one more time. 

“If you two let my bunny die, I will come back to haunt you again, but I won't act nice again”

“Were you being nice this time?” Billy says, earning a chuckle from his brother

The ghost gives them both a playful wink before leaving the room. Now, for the last time. 

Chapter Text

"The dog you really got to dread is the one that howls inside your head. It's him whose howling drives men mad and a mind to its undoing"

---

“for one reason or another they feel like they still have business here, or they are just not ready to see what comes next”

Remnants of their conversation still linger on her mind. It has been a while, not a long one, but still, since she last talked to the twins. It has been a while since she decided that it was time. And yet, she still found herself floating around, trying to understand how to get to her next step. She wouldn’t make her presence known to anyone in the land of the living, but she still couldn’t seem to leave.

“ they can successfully pass if they let go and accept their fate”

In that moment, it also crosses her mind that it may be that reddit isn’t the place to get spiritual advice. She digressed.

In her wandering, the ghost finds herself back to her house. Well, not quite, but at least the place she called home on her last years walking amongst the living as their equal during her time in Westview. The house where she took her last breath, where her body now lies underground, lifeless. 

Where she last saw her.

What is holding me back?

It all looks relatively the same, if not for a thick layer of dust laying perfectly on top of every surface visible. It doesn’t seem like the old resident ever came back to claim any of it. It also seems unlikely anyone else had tried, neither for pure nor ill intentions. Guess the residents of the once quiet town opted to forget that part of their recent history, amongst all the mind control and fights between witches, who could blame them? The house there stood, as she left it, frozen.

How can I let go?

She finds herself on the top floor. Two doors from the master bedroom, a room with chipping wallpaper. The only one not quite as she remembered it. 

In her memories, she sees the dark blue on the walls, adorned with golden celestial bodies. The singular teddy bear sitting peacefully above the tidy checkered bed linen. Aside from the astronomical motif, a particular corner seemed to stand out. A dark plaque that proudly states "Nicholas Scratch, First place. Best vocals Children's Concert Choir”. That was a kids room, her kid's. 

Well, technically Agnes O'Connor’s. A hard-ass detective who once vouched to keep the streets of Westview safe. Later, engulfed by the weight of her own grief, the sake of her own ambition is what spoke louder, with little to no avail. It didn't matter, though, it was her boy’ room. Her Nicky.

”Is this how you see yourself?”  A familiar voice calls

The ghost pushes that recollection away.

The drawings on the tiny table caught her attention, one more than the others. Through a sinuous path, stay two figures mid action, one tiny, one tall, as the canopy bends and seems to hover over them. 

She could hear him. His sweet voice hummed a familiar tune. One she could never forget. The melody floats through the air, harmonizing with the sounds emanating from the greenery surrounding them. Agatha can feel herself tensing up as a knot forms in her stomach. 

“Alright, songbird” the witch turns to him, pinching his cheeks slightly “Where did you get that melody?” she inquires, trying to keep a playful tone. 

“It’s the song the birds sing, momma!”

He doesn't hesitate to answer, not at all like his momma does. Perhaps it was that lack of hesitation that grasped that knot even harder, tightening it dead. Of course, the boy would never live to see the day where Agatha could tell him the reason for why that song is so familiar. Or, even worse, why does it bring her so much dread.  So much so she can't contain it from emerging all over her face for a brief second. She quickly brushes it off, though, frowning ever so slightly. 

“Or maybe It’s the one we heard at the last settlement. I heard it somewhere, I swear!”

Nicholas conjures an excuse, in fear she had not believed him. He knew lying was a means to survival, but what he also knew is that little boys were never to lie to their momma, ever. That's why, though he wasn't lying before, he thinks twice about his answer.

The shift is not left unnoticed by Agatha. As if her sweet boy could warranted her upset with so little. After all, she knows he wasn’t lying. The witch knows exactly what he’s talking about. 

She was the only untruthful one. She had to.

“You have? I doubt it, it’s…an old song, a magical one that plays itself only for the most worthy” 

She could tell that answer soothed her son, as his face lighted up in a big smile. A smile that always made Agatha’s constant anguish falter even if just for a moment. The boy looks at her with his curious brown eyes, wanting to know more. 

And thus she does what she does best. Tell another lie, or a half truth, who’s to say? 

“Some say it would've been the greatest ballad ever written”

“Would? What happened?”

Truth, as it often does, finds its space to come out.

“It lacks completion, my boy. The song was never finished, or so they say”

Nicky looked ahead as he furrowed his little brows, thinking.

“Maybe we can finish it, momma, together”

At this moment, Agatha wished she could just change the subject. Conjure up another excuse as to why they couldn’t do that, let him have his little kid tantrum and then immediately get distracted with something else. Except, she knows this song, and why it would never leave his mind. And, above all else, she knew her son. That boy is stubborn, a bit more than your average child. If the melody was missing, they just had to find the right key and finish it. If the words weren’t quite right, they could fix it in no time. He’s almost as stubborn as… Well, point being he was not going to let this go anytime soon.

“Let me see what I remember”

Everything. Every single word, every single note. 

“Marching ever forward, ‘Neath the wooden shrine ” 

“Where are they marching?” 

“The woods! Beneath the trees, just like us”

She continues singing

“I stray not from the path….”

I hold deat— no

“Sorry, sweetheart, that’s about all I remember”

Is the other lie she tells him. To protect him, or so she convinces herself.

Hand in hand, they keep walking. Nicky hums louder now, as a true musician, trying to find the perfect words for every verse. Agatha tries to cherish that moment, hoping that his happiness could be enough to soothe her twisting insides. At least for now

down, down, down the road…

Same as in the drawing, that vision slowly fades. She's faced again with an empty dusty room. 

And there were the memories again. With her recent departure from the full time gig of making sure the Maximoff’s kids learn to handle their power better than mommy dearest, they seemed to be the closest she ever got to afterlife unemployment checks. Quite ironically, they've also become the only ties to a sense of normalcy she had developed after she passed, even if not one that was fondly regarded. So much free time had to be filled with something, she guessed. It didn’t matter, though, what Agatha needed was to focus. She needed to figure out her path to him, to her boy. 

And, well, to her, since that was apparently the only way. Annoyingly.

There's no time to waste, Agatha knows that. Shaking off any residual memories, she makes her descent to where it all went down, the backyard. As one would expect, the garden has grown ruthlessly, obscuring almost anything else from vision. One spot, however, seems unaffected. There lies a green bed, full of life and colors just like they first grew from the ground. Beneath it lies Agatha Harkness, dead. 

This had to be it, this had to be the key. How else can she let go better than standing face to face with the very thing that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is dead? Acceptance, right?

She expected the whole tunnel with a light at the end of it, any sign, really, and yet nothing came. No sight of her ex either, which is usually a good thing, but now she's not so sure. 

Dying wasn't that hard the first time, she sighs. Guess passing was the real trouble. 

In all fairness, that does give her a new sense of appreciation for Rio's work, which, once again, she could really use right now… Couldn't hurt for her to pop up, right? Sure, Agatha said she never wanted to see her face again, but she didn’t expect that this would finally be the time Death follows through. After all, this is the last place they've seen each other, right before Agatha decided to go full ghost…

“Is this how Nicky died?” 

She remembers a voice calling.

If it came to it, would she have sacrificed her own flesh and blood for her own sake? It didn't matter what anyone else thought the answer to that question was, let alone the scrawny looking boy talking in her mind, she knew that not to be true, her boy knew it not to be true. Rio knows it too, not that it mattered. 

It was best that the secret stayed between them. That no one knew how big a failure Agatha actually felt like. Let them think she’s just a heartless wench. At least, that’s how she usually operates

Except this time something was different.   

All she had to do was walk away. Go back to the house, let Death take Billy's soul and, as promised, uphold her part of the deal. She would never have to see Rio, she would never have to see that face again. The face she has outwardly hated for centuries. The face she has covertly loved for even longer. The face that looks so much like his.

The face of the only person she had left. Now, they would both be gone for good. 

All she had to do was what everyone else already believed she had done, let a young boy pass away to get what she wanted. The irony in that act is not missed by her.  

Agatha would finally have the peace she dreamed of. Maybe that could finally extinguish the weigh in her chest, in a way that taking more power never did, so she could breathe easily again. She would finally be left alone.

Utterly and completely alone, for eternity to come… The choice was all hers, regardless of whether or not she was willing to choose.

She has nothing to lose, right? 

It was, after all, what she wanted. She made that deal herself. 

And yet she feels that pain once again, that sorrow…

Did she really want to keep living this lie?  

Was it really worth it? Just to make them believe she would ever be so ruthless as to let go of such a special gift, her gift. 

Just to pretend that she could ever escape her past. To pretend she can keep blaming Rio. To pretend she doesn't blame herself. To pretend someone is to blame in the first place. 

But she wants to keep going. She's not ready, she can't come clean, she can't face him.  

She can't keep running away either. 

And so, she took a calculated risk. She knows how this might end as they meet each other in their silent fight. Both holding each other closer, both unwilling to let go, though fully knowing one of them will have to. Agatha locks their lips together, passionate, hungry, desperate. With every move she tries to take a bit more power, hoping the other woman would let her. The Green witch, on the other hand, is momentarily met with everything she had been wishing for, letting herself get more and more pulled into the kiss. Then doubt comes in. She doubts if her love  would let herself be taken, that she would truly stay with her, that this would truly be the end, that she won't be deceived again. She knew, however, that she couldn't keep healing her for much longer, that she needed to let go of that embrace. She would have to walk away from her and not look back. 

Except she would look, she couldn't afford not to. 

And so, it's Rio that takes a leap of faith. As Agatha knew she would. As it was almost fated to be. 

And some last words were whispered, perhaps not even that, but they were hers. Her last words…

She pushes that vision away before the sound of her own voice can come back to haunt her. 

I… I can't. I can't keep doing this.

Why would these memories keep coming back, especially at a time like this?. Why must every wound resurface, why must they… taunt her? Why does her heart keep on bleeding, even when there’s no more blood left? 

Am I that undeserving?

She doesn't know how long she's been wandering, trying to get somewhere and getting lost in what seems to be her own mind. She keeps having to battle it, every time, and yet she's still no closer to seeing her boy than she was before. 

For fucks sake, she's dead. How can it hurt even worse than when she was alive?

At this point, she's not sure what else could be done. She floats through that backyard, that whole house, even, as if she knows what she's looking for. Only to find herself standing at the edge of her own grave at the end of it.

Yet she keeps doing it. Over and over. Too many times to count.

No one.

Nothing.

Has this all been for nothing? Did she actually run so far from the inevitable that it actually gave up on her? 

…Has she given up on her? 

Yeah, she's still scared of what she will have to face on the other side, but she's more than willing to just face that. Doesn't that count for something? Can't she just get to the next part?

Please…

If it were possible, her legs would've given in by now from the exhaustion, sending her straight to the ground. None of that happens. She's not exhausted, at least not physically. How could she possibly be?

What she was, instead, was dead. To everything with or without a pulse.

It seemed so simple: let go and accept. Rid yourself of any ties you still have to the world of the living. What was she missing?

How can she have any ties left?

“You ask a lot of questions, but not the ones people care to ask”

For the first time in a while, Agatha could admit to being happy to hear that voice. Perhaps she hadn't completely given up on her after all. It was so obvious, she could never stay away for long, and the ghost would make sure to tease her about that later, when they have all the time in the world to annoy each other. Not right now, though, right now she needs her guidance. Right now, she needs to find her. She needs her. 

She looks around the garden, trying to locate the voice. The tall grass gives way to a forest to appear in all shades of green. There she stays, lowering the hood of her moss colored cloak, offering her a tender smile. Just like she used to.

“It's always good to see you” The spirit witch says, joining her. 

When she comes to it, the sun has long been gone, leaving way for the soft glow of the moon. There is a dirty road they walk, it's windy and long. The witches stroll, walking hand in hand.

Not this again…

Agatha shuts her eyes tight. She needs to concentrate, hard enough so as not to relive the moment, she needs to try. That's not her, she's not here , she repeats to herself. 

She's not coming.

And yet, when she opens her eyes, now back in Westview, Rio stands on the other side of her grave still looking just as she did a long time ago. Except that right now she's not looking at her. Well, in a way, she is. Agatha can see her former self, looking Death in the eye.

“Is this… Real?”

Her voice comes out meek, as she doubts for a second. The two figures continue their conversation in front of her, their laughter resonating through the air. Agatha could swear her gaze was met quickly by puzzled brown eyes and a sideways smile, before that figure looked away again. 

She must be dreaming.

“Anyways, back to what I was saying”

 She has to be.

“Yes, I'm always there, for every living thing.” 

Wait, I remember this.  

Agatha had pushed the full extent of her powers once more, conveniently deciding to linger at the scene of the crime in hopes to see her. Rio, of course, had come to collect the bodies, conveniently deciding to linger in the mortal plane just to be in the presence of the other witch. That had become a routine for them, although, at this point, neither would admit to it. 

From that spark, the flame of their love would soon burn strong and tall to overtake the whole forest around them. Still, at this moment, it’s still a spark

Her fascination with Death only grew from that. It's ironic how that fascination would lead them to such a different path then expected. For now, however, young Agatha listens eagerly to the girl in front of her. Whether that be to quench her thirst for knowledge or the thirst caused by the absence of Rio's sweet voice singing in her ear, she still couldn't say.

"Must be tiring”

“It's my job” She reflects on it for a second “I don't recall if I've ever felt tired before”

"Lucky”

Rio laughs. Agatha could never get enough of that sound.

And so, they keep walking.

“Does it ever get boring? Having to hear everyone's laments?”

“It can be… repetitive, sure” 

Her gaze faces forward for a second, directly where ghost Agatha stands, before she can complete her sentence. That sends a shiver down her spine, if that's even possible. As if she talks directly to something that isn't there, Rio says: 

“It is needed, though”

“Why is that?” It’s Agatha's own past self that asks. 

“The transition is not often smooth, especially for your kind, and many souls tend to get stuck” She turns her face again “You know when the priest comes for a christian on their deathbed, praying for the forgiveness of their lord on behalf of that soul?”

“Didn't take you as a follower of the good word”

A chuckle, a very subtle one, rises from Rio's lips, followed by an eye-roll. The Green witch sometimes pretends as if Agatha's little interruptions weren't endearing. She was never good at concealing her feelings, even in the very few times she would try, not at all like Agatha. They were always so different…

"It's meant to offer solace, relief, even...”

But, somehow, that's what made them work.

"People, as they do, often focus too much on their so called vices, sins, mistakes”  She keeps going "Sure, those weren't your finest moments, but right and wrong can take so many forms… It's not what you regret that actually bounds you to the earth”

"Then what does?”

“The weight of how it feels”

The words hit Agatha now more strongly than they did then. What are you trying to tell me?

"The weight?”

“Mortality is a very sentimental experience, after all. I'm sure you've felt it in some way before, the bliss, the woe…”

The grief

“As life goes, so do its trials. Sentient beings do their best to avoid any hassle, and yet it always catches up to them, even if only on their last breath…”

… and they drown in a wave of memories. The ghost can complete that sentence even before anything is said. 

“And that's when they get stuck, cradling tightly the very weight they fought so hard to ignore”

"Why?”

Rio pauses for a second, struggling to find the words. Of course she couldn't know that.  

“...That part I still don't quite get”

And that's when I asked  

“So how do you get rid of it?” they both say, in unison “Of that weight?”

"You don't” and that's when Death finally stops their stride “The only way out is through”

"That's… Ominous” The young one replies 

“You will understand it one day” 

Yeah, I think I finally do. 

“But right now, we must part”

Before young Agatha can protest, Rio brings her hand closer, brushing her lips gently on top of it. That small gesture is enough to freeze her in her tracks, blushing not so subtly. She wouldn't know that now, but that's exactly the type of reaction the other witch was hoping for. The type that feeds the flames. Now walking on the opposite direction, sets her hood carefully over her head, not before turning around and saying: 

"Te veo”

Both figures seem to fade away, leaving the ghost alone once more. If she wasn't sure before, now it seems crystal clear. 

Dying was definitely the easier part. 

She already made her choice, now she had to follow through. After all, that was the only way out. That's how she's getting to him, no matter how hard this will be. She needs to face everything, everything she fought so hard to keep hidden. 

It's the only way 

She takes a deep breath, although no air comes through, out of habit. It's time. 

And so, she lets go, letting a river of thoughts float through. 

Chapter Text

(...)Between your ears, behind your eyes
That is the path to Paradise
Likewise, the road to ruin

---

Agatha damps the piece of cloth on the river once again. The water is not yet as chilly as she would've hoped, but it offered some comfort as she pressed the fabric against her skin, still reddened by the action of her mother's palm.   

After the witching hour, the wind always gets chiller. Usually that would be a source of annoyance, but tonight, that offers solace. 

After witching hour is when they meet, everyday, on their tree. The one her love brought up from the dirt just for them to lie under its shade. At the heart of spring, the plant decorated their view with the sight of rosy purple flowers, the fallen large gradient petals forming a citrusy bed for them to rest. It probably had no business being there, as it stood out from every other in the sea of dark muted green. Yet, there it stood tall and firm. It persevered. 

It had to.

Agatha sits at its crook, yearning for her presence. Before the sun sets its eyes on the land, when it could be only them.

As always, she arrives not long after, as she mustn't let her love wait too long. The tall figure approaches, lamp in hand. On the other, she fidgets carefully with something. A fragile looking stem adorned by five colorful petals, violet. Rio offers her the flower as she stands next to her, smiling gently. 

“Good evening, M'lady” She curtsy mockingly.

“Evening” 

Agatha chuckles lightly, accepting the flower with her free hand. The witch avoids the pair of brown eyes, now gazing at her with concern. Before she notices, the lamp is set aside. Rio now puts her hand over hers, moving the cloth away to expose the reddened skin beneath it. 

“She has no right to treat you like this” Rio let out an angry sigh. 

“It was nothing” She replies, looking away from the other witch's frowning face.

Agatha knows that's not true, but part of her can't help but to think that Rio is mad at her. After all, this is not the first time they find themselves in a similar predicament. She braces herself for when The Green witch is done with it all, when she will finally get annoyed at her, like everyone else does, when she will finally give up. 

And yet, none of that happens. Rio approaches her, kindly, licking her lips before touching them to her face. Just as suddenly as it had risen, the soreness leaves her skin, washing away every trace of what went down. 

"Better?”

"Yes… Thank you, my love”

The girl stands by her, interlocking their fingers together, not before leaning in and gently kissing her lips first. They stay like this for a while, in silence, before Agatha can feel her own hand getting cold from the absence of Rio's own. Before she can look and ask what's wrong, a faint metallic sound clicks through the air briefly. 

"Don't” She pleads 

“Agatha…” 

"Rio, I said no” her voice sounding more commanding this time 

Rolling her eyes, she slides the dagger back to its ornate sheath.  

“The offer still stands”

"Cute. You've told me yourself that you couldn't interfere with the cycle”

"It's the rule, yes.” 

The witch moves to now be in front of Agatha. She stands between her legs, silently awaiting her love's permission to move closer. And there she stays, playing with the ends of Agatha's hair.

“However, given it is my own, I suppose where there is a will there could always be found a way”

”I believe that’s meant for life”

“Well, I contain multitudes, darling” she chuckles

“In any case, what good would that make?” Agatha moves to rest her arms over Rio's shoulders and wrap her legs around her, bringing her near “Even with mother dearest gone, nothing else would change”

“Who’s to say? Perhaps it could give way to better things”

“Yeah, I'm sure the Coven would be much more pleasant without beloved Evanora by their side”

“I meant, you could leave, sweetheart. Be free”

She considers it for a second, how it could feel to be free… No, it's pointless. At this point in time, this Agatha Harkness could never imagine herself as “free”, as someone who can handle it on her own. She pulls back, setting her arms and legs down and looking away sheepishly. 

“We are not supposed to be covenless” it’s the excuse she can find. 

“Why?”

“As the Covenstead would put ‘Wherever you are, a coven there shall be’”

“Agatha Harkness, world’s most famous rule follower” She replies in a whiny banter “As it stands, I'm not very law abiding either…”

“So perhaps you could join me”

The quickness in which that singular comment leaves Agatha's mouth is a shock for both of them. Rio stares at the girl for a second, puzzled and yet fully amused, almost daring her to see if she would follow through.

“I mean, technically speaking we are within a three mile radius of each other, after all” The spirit witch tries to keep a neutral tone, despite the fast pounding in her chest “That could be enough witchy people, right?”

“A coven of two?” Through a smile, Rio savors those words as they come out almost like a little melodic hum. “I quite enjoy the sound of that” 

She closes the distance between them once again, now wrapping her own arms around the spirit witch's waist. 

“Where would we go?” She asks, her voice sounding more like a whisper in the spring breeze. 

“Away from this place, that's for sure” Agatha tucks Rio's hair away, as to not keep any of her from view “If mother taught me anything, it’s to keep clear of the settlements. Although, it could as well be useful to stay nearby. There's always the unsuspecting witch…”

“And thus you get your power and I get my bodies” The other witch adds as they share a knowing look. 

"Sounds like a nice arrangement” 

She rests her hands over Rio's face, slowly caressing her cheeks with her thumbs. The tenderness of that touch clashing with the mocking that ensues. Agatha clears her throat and turns on the theatrics to the max: 

“Shall I throw in a cabin in the dowry, your grace?” She says in her best english, earning a grin from her love

“Oh my!” Rio exclaims as she joins in the joke “Pray tell, how could you afford such a thing…”

And for a second Agatha had the perfect quip forming in her head. It dissolves itself just as quickly, however, when the following words come out of the witch in front of her.

“…My love?”

It’s not new that they address each other as such. Not just “love”, and not at all “lover”. “My love”, as they belong with each other. Thus, Agatha's current state of shock couldn't possibly be caused by the uttering of a few letters. Rather, it’s the way those big brown eyes look at hers, so genuine, adoring and so lovingly... 

That's when a familiar sting catches up to her. She clears her throat and crosses her arms, hoping to keep it away.

“To quote a very wise friend of mine ‘where there is a will there could always be found a way’”

“Sweetheart” It's Rio that steps away now, still keeping her hands on the small of Agatha's back “You cannot offer me a dowry and then call me your friend”

Of course, she was no stranger to the longing glances, the whispering, the meeting in secrecy, the touch of another woman. After all, she was a witch first, not a puritan. However, it was never quite like this. Never before has Agatha looked at the skyes waiting for the witching hour to pass. Never before she wished time would stop for them. Never before has she wanted more than a touch. Never before has it felt so real.

Never before has it felt like… this.

That terrified Agatha to no end, finding herself falling like this. In no universe could ever be that the desire combusting through her insides also burned as bright in anyone else. Pretending their relationship emerged from what once was just platonic admiration, thinking this feeling too shall pass, it didn't make the flame consume her any less, but kept it safe inside. She could find comfort in how familiar that kind of hurt was. The one that comes when you hold everything in. So she keeps hurting more: 

“But friends are what we have most dear in this world”

She feels the sting again. Keep it safe, hidden. The words fly out of her mouth as she dresses them in a bantery tone:

“It is my most desired wish that ours could blossom as strong and true as the beautiful flowers that hang above us”

Except they weren't friends. They never were. They could never be. After all, it’s their love we are talking about

“Do you hear any mockery on my words, Agatha?”

Rio's dry words, but alluring delivery brings her back. She keeps her gaze steady, with as much affection as before, if not more. Unlike Agatha, The Green witch always let that fire burn high, tall and proud. She was ready to let it fully consume her if need be, just in hopes her love could feel a tiny amount of that warmth. In moments such as this, where Agatha seems slightly out of reach, she makes sure to ignite it even higher, however high it needs to be for the heat to reach her love’s skin. 

When it does, that’s when the spirit witch could allow herself to let a little spark come through. She figured the hurt couldn’t get much worse if she gave part of herself too, but only bit by tiny bit. That's why she pleads:

“Pardon me, my love. How could I ever make it up to you?”

”I could think of a million different ways, and yet I yearn for just one”

Without missing a beat, Agatha cups Rio’s face with both of her hands as she pulls the girl closer. Their lips meet, delicately at first. She can feel as Death in the flesh melts into her touch, holding to her waist once more.

That fuels the witch's burning even more.

As if she had been starving for Rio since the moment she was born. In a way, she was, as this is the first time she experienced real connection, closeness…

Real love.

She wanted, no, needed more. To be even closer. Agatha moves a hand firmly into Rio’s hair as she deepens the kiss, hungrily and blinded by her own desire. To hell with keeping any flame safe. Agatha could swear she was about to combust, but it didn't even matter anymore. The witch wanted to have her completely, to almost consume her, truth be told.

It’s Rio, however, that pulls back, not before leaving a gentle peck on the other witch’s lips:

"Careful. You almost did it again”

It would seem that, at that point in time, the more Agatha gave into her hunger, the less control she had of her own power. That wouldn’t be a problem for long. Right now, however, it is enough to make her feel regretful of letting herself go:

“I swear I don't mean it” She answered, looking away shyly

“It's alright, my love” Rio takes Agatha’s hand on her own “You're power is strong, it shall respond to you better in due time”

Unbeknownst to both of them, she was right. That didn’t matter, though, as future time is… well, as the name says it, to the future to know. What did matter to Agatha is what she does know now. 

What she does know is that, at first, she tried and tried to convince herself that it’s all in self defense, and perhaps she could’ve been right if it had been a one time offense. However, time had made it abundantly clear the nature of her crimes. She craved it, the power. Worse, she even enjoyed the feeling of it coursing through her veins. That’s when she convinces herself it’s necessary, an offensive defense, so to speak. She can be at peace with that. It gives her what she wants and it keeps Rio close, how could any of it be foul? 

What she also knows, however, is that she tried to steal her love’s power, again. The unwillingness of the act and the fact she wouldn’t have truly hurt anyone but herself had she succeeded bore no difference in her mind. She still tried to take from Rio the one thing she knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t give. She tried to hurt her, no matter how else she tried to see it.

Maybe she really can’t be good after all.

Whatever. Just another train of thought to push away. Nothing new to see here:

“Well, maybe that cabin was on the other side all along” she quips, as she does “I heard the price of property is better there”

“Agatha…”

“Bad joke, I know, sorry. I shall not see your home, not until it’s time”

“Yes, a very long time from now, my love”

The witch can feel a soft squeeze in her hand before Rio lets go, taking a seat a bit further from the edge of the tree. With a found smile, she taps the petals and calls

“Come. You’re forgiven, for now” she winks 

And Agatha happily obliged. As much as she craved to be in control, there was always something that pulled her toward The Green witch no matter what. It had been like this since she first saw her.

It also wasn’t the first time she remembers feeling this way, in need to cling to power. As a child, she would steal the magic of whatever creature or spell that she could come into contact with. She remembers the nagging sensation she was doing something wrong melting away the minute she succeeded, leaving but a fuzzy comfort behind. That is, until the day her mother caught her in the act.

Usually, Evanora’s proneness to anger would’ve earned her a screech at best and a strike at worse. Not that day, though. Her expression conveyed something much much more hurtful. Her face contorted in utter disgust, as if she had just been in the presence of the most unforgivable and undoubtable act of wickedness one could ever find itself spectating. 

From that day on, Agatha swore she would never do it again.

And yet, she always wondered how far she could push had she continued trying. What she never expected was to learn that in such a gruesome way. 

Her current predicament couldn’t be a surprise, she was bound to find someone who she’d annoy to death. Or, rather, that would be so annoyed to want her dead, same difference.

The witch wasn’t particularly feared at this point in time, hence why it might have sounded like a smart idea to attack her for whatever petty reason this fight was happening (Agatha had no collection to what happened prior, but probably that she started it herself). The blast was only meant to knock her for a while, enough for the other witch to flee. Yet, she felt it again, that need to cling.

And that’s exactly what she does.

Before, she could leave some of it behind, keep her targets with some power of their own left. Not now, though, now she needs every last drop to be hers. No matter the consequence. She clings to every last bit of it, distracted by the drunken haze of the newly acquired magic..

The sound of the body colliding with the floor, cold and lifeless, is the only thing that snaps her out of it. Agatha stares at it, static, The Witch Killer’s first kill. For all the times it wouldn’t bother her at all in the future, this time there’s some discomfort to be felt. After all she didn’t mean it, did she? She didn’t mean to take all of it and, even if she did, for a brief second, she didn’t know it would result in this. That’s when it all hits her. She remembered the look in Evanora's eyes. All those years craving more and more power, even after she swore she would stop. Perhaps it had been known, call it fate, if you may, that it would come to this. Perhaps her mother was right all along, she was truly a wicked little thing like she was made to feel like.

As horrible as it all sounded, a particular concern still topped them all off. What really scared Agatha, if anything ever could at this point, was that she should’ve been way more frightened by all this. She should be panicking, consumed by guilt. And yet, there she stays. Staring over the body, seemingly emotionless, despite every worry and judgment popping in her brain. 

All she could really focus on was that fuzzy sensation, like the one she felt as a child. Except this was way stronger. All her thoughts felt almost secondary, background noise. One by one they would go out of reach, Indecipherable. There were no emotions pestering her either, the girl just felt… empty, numb. 

That’s when she discovered that she really liked that numbness.

It is also, however, when she would begin to discover how much she really liked Death. Meaning, as she would come to learn, the tall lady in front of her who, based on her demeanor, had been watching the girl. For how long is what Agatha couldn’t tell, probably long enough to accurately guess what happened.

There she stood, wearing a long ornate dress of sage and moss coloring, lowering her hood to reveal fine locks of raven hair contrasting the rose on her puffy cheeks and those eyes… The prettiest Agatha has ever seen. Safe to say, if being caught red handed wasn’t enough, that sight was a quick way to get the emotions to start rolling again. A heatiness rises to her cheeks as she conjures up an excuse to flee that situation: 

“Your grace” She calls, putting up all the theatrics possible “you must forgive me for the awful display I’ve just come by it myself! Atrocious, really!”

A smile of unknown nature creeps on the figure's face. The spirit witch trembles slight, trying to conceal the effect the other woman clearly has on her, even for such a small gesture:  

“So I see” The tall answers in a low melodic voice

That definitely caught Agatha off guard, again:

“I…shall alert the pastor, but you stay put! These woods are unforgiving to foreigners”

“Oh, sweetheart” In slow steps, the figure approaches her “I’m no stranger to these woods, or any of them, for that matter”

As much as she would want to do otherwise, she can't just stand and keep staring. As much as the figure just seems to pull her closer, she knows she needs to get away.

And yet, she just can't seem to move: 

“Do not worry, It’s for her that I came” She turns her face to the body on the floor for a second “I thought a witch like you ought to have realized the nature of my being by now…”

The nature of her being… Great, just what Agatha needed: 

“So you're a witch?”

“Yes, but not just any witch” The girl keeps staring, puzzled at the figure in front of her. So stoic, even amidst the scene of a murder “Think harder, dear, you're almost there.”

A witch of such regal appearance happens to meet her out of nowhere over a corpse... Safe to say it takes her not much longer to connect the dots: 

“As in you’re…”

Death, in flesh and bones and finally stopping just a few steps away from her: 

“Yes… hence why your little display, though amusing, is not really necessary. I’m just here to do my job” 

“Pardon me, your grace” She adds, still unsure how else to navigate this. How is one even able to talk to Death? That's a question she would like to ask if she's ever given a later change. 

“No need to address me with such formality either” A playful smile coming through her lips 

“Then how may I address you, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

The second the words come out of her mouth Agatha feels a wave of embarrassment rush over her. Would Death even have a name? She must have, otherwise she wouldn't look so… alive, as hellish contradictory that sounded. In the spirit witch's eyes, Death didn't look like an event, or a force, or a mere concept. She just looked like someone.

Someone Agatha was dying to meet.

The spirit witch couldn't know this, as she was too far removed in her own mind and thoughts to notice, but the woman in front of her seemed to stare blankly ahead, puzzled. She averts her gaze for a second, almost as if she's searching for something: 

“Rio” She finally answers “Rio Vidal”

“Rio, that sounds… different. I mean, it’s beautiful” She has absolutely no idea what it means, and yet she continues to make a fool out of herself “It suits you! You look like someone who would be named Rio”

“I’ve given you my name” The figure, no, Rio, asks her, a hint of curiosity in her tone “care to share yours?”

“I’m Agatha… Harkness” 

“Agatha Harkness… It was a pleasure to meet someone so…. Intriguing” 

She takes a look at the young witch once more before turning her back. Raising the hood over her locks once again, Rio begins to step away:

“Wait!” Agatha calls “Will I see you again?” 

The witch stops in her tracks, looking back over her shoulder:

“Do you wish to?”

“Yes”

“Good. Then you shall.”

The Green witch steps closer once again, though her gaze is far away. Something about her demeanor seemed hesitant, Agatha furrowed her brow unsure of what's to come. Before she can ask any questions, Rio extends her hand, a pink flower delicately standing between her fingers. Agatha accepts it with a shy smile in her lips:   

“Te veo” Is all Rio says before disappearing. 

The witch stands there for a while, gently twirling the fragile plant between her fingers, looking as the long protruding structure inside it seems to dance with the movement. In her mind, though, the only thoughts dancing are of everything that just went down. Being attacked, the craving she felt, the numbness that washed everything away and then… her.  

A few tears are shed. Not of regret, per say, yet not of joy either. Agatha couldn't grasp why they were falling either. With time, she would find out she couldn't grasp a lot of what she felt when that woman was around her.

At that moment, however, she wouldn't pay it much mind. After all, it was easy to push it all back, and now she knew exactly how. Even so, she hoped to see Rio again. She could’ve never imagined that, not so long later, the two of them would lay beside each other.

Her memory fasts forward again, back to the two of them now lying under the magnolia tree, hand in hand. Rio is smiling at her, her tone purely playful:

“It would be contradictory for a witch that craves so much power to die a maiden, don't you think?”

“True, tough in all fairness I think my maiden years are soon to become a memory” 

The Green witch smiles, though not a joyful one, a small hint of doubt creeping through. The other witch knew that well. By this point, she had watched close enough she swore she knew every look Rio could throw at her:

 “I would never run from you, my love”

And for that moment in time, Agatha actually meant it. If only they had known better.

"Truly I always knew I was powerful” Always the humblest as she was “And yet I never expected to do anything of… value in this life”

"What changed?” Her brows furrows in curiosity

“You saw me”

If the wilderness had its eyes on them, even it could tell the pure happiness shining through Rio's wide grin. The Green Witch all but throws herself onto the other girl, laying her head comfortably on her chest. Agatha can feel the vibrations as she hums something to herself, till she decides to share her thoughts: 

“I still remember that day, you know?”

“Oh I'm painfully aware” she rolls her eyes

“Are you, your grace?” Rio quips

"Very funny”

“I knew it since then” The Green witch moves herself around, now looking into the other witch's eyes “That I wanted you”

Agatha takes notice of the fire as it begins to grow again:

“You are lying”

“I am not! I knew there was something truly remarkable about you”

Rio let's herself burn: 

“I love you, Agatha”

Silence. 

“I love you too, Rio”

Except it’s not then that those words come out of her mouth. No, it’s some time later, in a much more uneventful evening, when the two of them didn’t need to wait for the darkest hours of the night and the secrecy of the forest no longer. Not long after they officially became each other's homes, in more sense than one.

It’s as they once joked about. A small cabin in the woods, out of reach to the outside world just enough so it can be the two of them. Freedom, at last. 

Many more uneventful evenings later there they are, Rio taking  her sweet time tending to the nature that surrounds them while Agatha is sitting inside, mindlessly knitting without a clue of what will come from that.

Another thing she does not have a clue about is how it could be possible that their coven two is about to get a new addition.

Agatha thought she surely was going crazy when her body felt more and more tired. Maybe her age was finally catching up to her, as it does with the regular folk. Sure, that doesn't really explain why her stomach felt so tight all the time, let alone why the smell of garlic suddenly made her want to gag, but clearly there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for her sudden symptoms. For the lack of, say, better clues, the morning sickness was what made her sure someone was indeed growing inside her. 

Well, there's something that can be said about birds and bees and what not, however both of them lacked the proclivities to make that happen the non-magic way, for various obvious reasons. As for magic, they were no strangers to the incantations, no witch was. Agatha remembers having that conversation. She was going to have a child of her own and they would raise them together. She was going to say it. She had the words memorized and full intention to do it. Although there was always some worry in the back of her mind, something that came up with an array of reasons why that arrangement simply couldn't work, she was going to follow through. 

Yet the kid seemed to make itself known before she could even recite the first line. Now, Agatha finds herself a few months away from not being able to keep it a secret anymore. Yes, there's also the matter of telling Rio, and more specifically what to tell her, which she kept telling herself she will get to at a later date. 

Her thoughts are jolted away for a second by the sound of The Green witch coming through the front door, rambling about all sorts of produce she has gathered. Agatha could only wonder as to why a being of such immense power cares so much about vegetables. Still, she half listens to her chatter as the woman makes her way to the kitchen:  

“---Unfortunately it's still a bit early in the season, so we are sticking to regular potatoes for now”

As Rio leaves the plants on the wooden table by the fireplace, she finally turns towards the other witch. It's then that she finally notices how her hands stand mid movement and her gaze seems distant: 

"What's wrong, my love?” A hint of concern weighs in her tone.

“Oh, nothing” Agatha shakes her head, going back to the task in hand “I got a bit distracted, that's all”

“I'm not talking about that” 

Crouching to meet her love's gaze on the same level. She takes Agatha's hands into hers, forcing her to put the needles down while softly inviting her to look up:

“Something has been troubling you for a while, I can tell” 

She stays there, lightly stroking the back of the other witch's hands with her thumbs. Agatha's eyes close as she takes in a deep breath. She keeps thinking to herself to calm down, to find a way to buy more time. However, that's not enough to keep out the tightness on her chest and shakiness from her arms. Soon enough, she can't keep out all the awful things that had been running through the back of her mind since she found herself in this predicament. What if there was another reason a spell didn't need to be cast? What would happen then? 

What would that mean for this child?

She felt one of Rio's hands rest against her cheek, so tender it only made her feel even worse. The openness and vulnerability Rio had always shown her almost cornered her to want to to the same, to share all her doubts and burdens with her: 

"Please, Agatha, talk to me” She pleads.

If only those were mere concerns, fabrications that could be blamed by the anxiety every new mother feels. However, from every angle she tried to look at, the truth seemed further and further away from that. As much as she claimed to not know, there would always be a muffled sound deep inside her trying to yell the answer. Words, however, carry too much meaning, a lesson every witch is bound to learn sooner or later. Agatha, smart as she always was, learned that early on. So, as long as certain words don't come to life, perhaps they could have no power over reality. 

If anything, she never really tolerated feeling cornered. And thus, she does what she always did best: 

“I did it” she pauses, pondering what to say next “The spell. I’m pregnant”

She finally opens her eyes, just early enough to see Rio's worried expression give way to a smile. As she shifts her weight to her knees and wraps her arms around Agatha, all the witch can think about is how It worked. At least at that moment, the scream inside of her stayed muffled. At least at that moment, her words brought forth something less awful. Everything went as they'd agreed upon. 

Perhaps that can be a lie they both learn to believe:

"Congratulations, my love” Rio says softly, still holding the other witch in her arms.

They stayed there, the taller one's head nuzzled up against Agatha's neck as she played with the ends of her hair. As much as the spirit witch wanted that moment to last, to just pretend everything is going to be ok, she feels helpless as her own eyes fill with water. Rio notices as her breathing shifts. She pulls away, wiping away the tears as they start coming: 

“I’m sorry” The spirit witch mumbles, unable to keep her words from fully betraying her.

"Why are you apologizing?”

Her tone is soft and her eyes gaze at the witch with concern once again. Agatha wanted nothing more then to move on from this: 

“We agreed I would tell you before, but I didn't” 

Or at least that’s the reason she chose at the time. Even so, it doesn't ease up all the turmoil going inside her. The more she tried to stop it, the louder it all sounded. Now the floodgates were completely open:

“Hey, It's ok” She holds her once again “Agatha, It's fine, I'm not mad”

“It's not, nothing is fine” She blurts out between sobs “This was a terrible idea, Rio. I…”

She stops in her tracks, just as the muffled voice tried to get itself out there. In a much needed change of focus, Agatha tries to remember how it felt, when everything went numb, when all she could feel was power coursing through her. It's been a while, maybe too long. Maybe that's why her mind has been giving her such trouble lately. The witch decides that yes, these are better thoughts to keep her mind occupied. Plotting how to get her next unsuspecting victim. 

She tried to keep the pure terror still lurking beneath her skin out of her voice as she opened her mouth again. She hoped she could:

“I'm scared, that's all” Is all she manages to say, almost nonchalantly 

Hopefully, Rio wouldn't question that sudden change: 

“You can be scared, my love, don't worry. I'll be here” She tilts her head back slightly, meeting the other witch's gaze “I can be brave for the three of us”

As Rio's hand hovered over stomach and her voice whispered so much praise and affection next to her ear, Agatha was considering the implications of siphoning someone else's powers while pregnant. It's one particular whisper, however, that catches her attention again:

"He will be lucky to have you”

The spirit witch pulls away, confused: 

"He?”

“Just a guess” Rio looks away for a second, quickly dismissing any follow up questions. She sets her path back to the kitchen, speaking louder now“ Anyhow, have you eaten today? I'll fix us something. No garlic, I promise”

“You don't have to do that. You don't even need to eat” Agatha follows her, trying to keep her away from all the pots and pans.

“Agatha Harkness, you stubborn being” She turns back to her, rolling her eyes “Can you please let me take care of you for a change?”

The Green witch holds her by the hips. For a moment, Agatha's reminded of the lie she wanted to believe. The one that told her everything was fine, that their family was going to be fine. Almost as a wish whispered in the breeze, she answers: 

“I will, my love”

The harsh reality, however, would prove otherwise. The more Rio tried and the more Nicky grew, the more Agatha pulled away. She just couldn't shake the awful feeling something was coming. As the months passed by, the more she could name what it was. And so she would try to keep her distance, she went as far as to ask Rio not to come aid her during the birth.

Yet there Death stood, as the spirit witch bargained for a different outcome. 

The next memories fly by her quickly. Those few years alongside her boy, tainted by the nagging uncertainty of their inevitable end, and the moment the day finally comes. 

All the ones that follow are a messy blur, colored by the pain she carried. The shade that sticks out the most is her grief, as she tried to drown out the sight of it each time the ballad played. Coven by coven, kill by kill. 

She can feel herself pushing it away. She won't be front and center. Instead, she settles on spectating. As The Witch Killer watches so closely the world unfold around her, she too becomes one of its many characters. Her hunger, her anger, her pain, none of these were hers, merely insinuations by the designs of a convoluted plot written on the lines of destiny or whatever else could be out there to taut her. Insinuations that she didn't have to abide. After all, though she could grasp it now: if Agatha Harkness were to grow up as anything, it was always to not do as she's told. Even if that meant denying whatever burns and brews inside herself. What's the point of clinging so hard to… wrongness? To something so unlovable as she. To such a failure as she was.

Yet she had a face that haunted her, the one face she was once so drawn towards, now the last one she wished to see. Even so, Rio would come to her side and that pesky flame would make itself known again. Decade after decade.

Love, what an odd thing to want. Another foreign design she could happily not abide by. Matter of fact, she would take great satisfaction in not relishing on its bittersweetness, more bitter than the latter.

After all, it was a dangerous role to expose herself to. To stop being to one who watches as the plot unfolds, to have everything be front and center once again with all her love with all of her pain too. 

And thus every time Rio, even after everything, would try to pull her close, she became a reason to blame. The person who she could redirect all her anger to. The person she could push away once again. Decade after decade. 

Till it comes the fateful day she pushes her away for good. The day she tells The Green witch to stop pursuing her, that she never wishes to see her face again. Rio always says goodbye, but this time she doesn't, and suddenly all that anger becomes misplaced again. She now watches herself lash out, as she so often did. 

Yet as her life pieces itself in front of her, there's no one Agatha Harkness would like to blame the most but herself. There's nothing she would rather do than shelf that blame deep into herself until she can't feel it anymore. 

But what good does it do? 

Once it made things easier. It's what kept her going, surviving. Though misguided, it at least had a purpose, it's what got her to where she stands now.

Given where that is, however, there's still one last question to be answered: 

What's the purpose of pretending for so long, even after you're gone?

All those wounds were not healed, and perhaps they would never be. Yet, no matter how much she tried to push them away, there they were. At the scene of every crime and at the core of every lie. Ever the walking contradiction, she would live a whole life dancing around clinging to the past and complete denial. 

A whole life trying to not be the one who feels the hurt from her own wounds.   

Now, she had to let all of that go. 

And thus she reaches the end. As her body floats away from Rio, so do her dreaded last words. The ones she's not even sure were truly muttered, and even so thought she couldn't stomach to hear.

However, she couldn't deny it anymore. As it bleeds out of her pierced heart, the words echo:

I'm so sorry.

—-

The citrus smell creeps up her nose again, the leathery petals surrounding the both of them. The girl looks around, frozen, unsure how to answer. 

She loved Rio so much it felt like her heart was about to burst open. Her mouth, however, stayed shut tight: 

"Well, dawn is upon us, so I guess I should let you head back” 

Rio is the first one to stand up, patting away the petals that cling into her long gown. Lamp now in hand, she’s set on her path. More than ever, Agatha remembers wishing she could see her face. To see if any hint of regret or disappointment lingers in The Green witch's eyes as they do hers.

As if she could hear her silent plea, Rio turns to look into her love’s eyes one more time, with nothing but admiration to give:  

“Te veo” 

“Rio”

And the Green witch stops for her, brown and blue irises meeting once again. With a deep sigh, It’s blue that pleads. 

“Will you wait for me?” 

I love you

“I will”

This time, Death is the one that holds the witch’s hand in hers. With one last gentle smile to offer.

“As long as it takes”

A promise. 

It was Agatha's time to uphold her end. 

—--

There were no tunnels or lights at the end of them. Instead, it's a voice. Rio's voice, leading her down the road. 

And just like that, she finds her way to her. 

“Long time no see” 

I see you, Rio. 

Here is to hope you still see me too.