Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’re dead.

They’re all dead.

Her teammates, her allies. It’s difficult to make sense of who is where, and she can’t think at all. So much potential - so much stolen life…so many people she’s let down and failed.

Wait. Where’s Agatha? Where are Billy and Tommy?

She shoves back her tears; she can grieve later. If there’s one thing she’s gotten good at, it’s compartmentalizing the agony until she’s safe, until she can dissect it and let it be felt instead of allowing it to fester. Bex has done so much good work with her.

If only it was enough this time.

She can’t do this right now. She has to find her boys, her person. She rushes through this - what the hell is it, where is she, why can’t she remember? - seemingly endless dark corridor, bursting into what can only be described as a great hall of sorts.

She’s immediately frozen in horror. 

Agatha. Billy. Tommy.  They’re dead, just like the others, at the end of the hall, and towering over them are guards of some sort in oddly familiar metallic suits. Behind that scene, a tall hooded figure removes his hood, revealing a faceplate similar to the guards but different in its own right.

“This could have been avoided, if only you’d have agreed to join me,” he says coolly, the toe of his boot nudging Agatha’s mangled body. “They could have joined us in the Ultimate Utopia, Scarlet Witch. All you had to do was help me. You could have prevented this. Now they’re gone…but you? You will help now. You have no choice now, Wanda.”

Wanda drops to her knees, and the world turns brilliant scarlet as an earth-shattering scream rips from her body. Her magic follows not far behind, the burning supernova in her chest exploding.

This is wrong, this isn’t real, this isn’t right, no…

Wanda. Enough.

She’s not dead, they’re not dead, they can’t be, I’ve lost them again…

“Wanda. Wake up.”

With a gasp, Wanda jolts to consciousness, nearly whacking her head on the headboard in the process. She hears a disgruntled huff as Agatha shakes her head to stop Wanda’s hair from tickling her nose. Agatha’s arms are circled around her waist, resting on the small of Wanda’s back under her sleep shirt. She cringes as she realizes that the nature of the nightmare has left her sweat-soaked and shivering, and Agatha’s usually cool hands feel like fire against her skin.

Agatha is here. Agatha is alive. 

Wanda bursts into tears and pulls Agatha even closer, resting her ear against the older witch’s chest to listen to her heart. Agatha sighs.

“Well, I guess you’re awake, so that’s good,” she drawls in a murmur, drawing one hand up to card through Wanda’s hair. “Want to talk about it?”

“Did you see what happened?” Wanda asks flatly, though it’s difficult to achieve when she’s sniffling. To her surprise, Agatha doesn’t snark back.

“Darling, I’ve been trying to stop doing that unless your feral ass magic decides I have to watch your memories or fears in real time. So when I realized you were restless, I tightened my control on my psyche.” She buries her face in coppery waves, sighing deeply. “It also seems terribly disrespectful to partake in someone’s trauma with them when they didn’t give permission.”

Slightly gobsmacked, and somehow totally distracted from the nightmare for a brief moment, Wanda pulls back slightly to gawk incredulously at her lover. “How are you the same person who tied me up in her basement in Westview right now?”

Agatha hums, eyes twinkling mischievously in the dim moonlight from the window. “People grow, darling. Besides, you feel better now, don’t you?”

Wanda stops, thinks, feels. She does what Agatha and Bex have been reinforcing - almost like grounding, but more like body scanning. It seems silly, to be doing this at probably three in the morning, but Agatha waits patiently.

Finally, Wanda takes a deep, shaky breath. “I do feel better, mostly. I just…it got to me.”

“Was it a memory, or a variant?” Agatha’s voice is quiet, uncertain, but gentle as she cups Wanda’s face in her hands, searching her face in the dark.

“It was neither,” Wanda replies, just as softly. She blinks, then sets her jaw and meets the gaze watching her. “It was the future, but the wrong one. It was one where we failed. And everyone…everyone was dead, except me, and somehow I could have stopped it. I can’t place how it’s possible, but…”

Just say it, Maximoff, her inner voice chides, sounding ever-closer to Agatha and less like Stark by the day. As it should be.

“Agatha, the entity in my dream…I don’t know who or what he was, but he said I could have stopped it if I had just helped him with his cause. That you, and the boys, and the team…you’d have all been safe if I hadn’t resisted. I think…Agatha, I think it was a warning.”

Agatha’s lips purse, and her eyes glow violet for a moment. Wanda can feel the tingle of Agatha’s dark, seductive magic coiling around Wanda’s own psyche, trying to piece together as much of the dream as possible. The older witch’s breath catches, and while she says nothing else, she looks…uneasy at what she’s found in her lover’s mind, the painful backdraft of the dream. Wordlessly, her magic withdraws and she brings her arms back around Wanda’s lower back, pulling the redhead closer to her.

I don’t know, hot stuff, Agatha speaks in their psychic link. And that’s not something I enjoy saying. I genuinely don’t know why this has us in such a tizzy, but I understand why it affected you the way it did. Can’t do anything about it tonight, though - let’s get what rest we still can. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.

With a short nod, Wanda agrees, and Agatha’s eyes flare violet again as she quickly incants the same sleep enchantment she used on Wanda months ago, this time for them both.

They drift out of consciousness quickly, but that doesn’t ease the lingering uncertainty in either of their minds.

Chapter Text

“You know, she really isn’t looking forward to this.”

Agatha’s trying, really trying to behave, to not snap at Nick Fury as they stand back slightly, watching Wanda as she regards the cottage, the yard, all of their little home with tears in her eyes. The younger witch clenches her jaw, widens her stance, and flexes her hands, allowing the magic thrumming under her skin to flow. With a few slow gestures, any trace of Agatha and Wanda’s existence on this plot of land vanishes, disappearing in flashes of bright red light.

For a brief moment, Agatha can feel her heart twist at the thinly masked despair her young lover is radiating. This has been, of course, a safe haven for the Scarlet Witch - allowing her to resuscitate her soul, grow, to heal. And now, as with so many of her places to call “home” in history…it’s gone.

(Not completely, though. Agatha…may or may not have had a secondary incantation she thought of, right as Wanda vanished the cottage, which instead stored the conjured cottage and all of its memories in a pocket dimension. She had mentioned it to Wanda, had gotten permission to use the secondary spell, but she isn’t sure the redhead remembers.)

Agatha is broken from her short reverie by Fury finally speaking. “Wanda never was the one who looked forward to this. She did what she felt she had to do - she didn’t think she had a choice. Guess some things don’t change.” 

Agatha sneaks a subtle glance at the man, whose expression is unreadable but stiff. “Does she actually have a choice, this time?” She cocks an eyebrow, and Fury’s face loses a little of its edge.

“I wish she did.” His tone has shifted, sounding almost wistful. “If I knew we could pull this off without the scope of what she can do, I’d tell her to put that house back and stay here, live her life in peace. It’s all she’s ever seemed to want in the world, at least for as long as I’ve known her. And I mean, yes, we have a good team in the works, including those boys since they refused to say no. But if she isn’t part of this-”

“There won’t be a universe to come home to,” Agatha finishes quietly, and Fury’s head bows in silent agreement.

“Thank you for coming with her, though. She needs all the support she can get, and the fact that she’s got people outside of this Avenger shit who are looking out for her makes me feel a hell of a lot better.” He’s sincere, and Agatha tries not to let it melt her aloof countenance. Although she does smirk a little.

“To be clear, Agent Fury, if you ever call me an Avenger, you’ll lose your good eye,” she grumbles, though her smirk remains. Fury’s a smart man, and he huffs good-naturedly at her expression.

“Ms. Harkness, if I may, I don’t even call myself an Avenger,” he deadpans back, and Agatha can’t resist the little laugh the words bring. “Honestly, I don’t even think this next group of kids will be considered Avengers. Gotta mix it up, next generation and all that shit.”

Agatha wrinkles her nose in understanding, then feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It’s not hard for her to divine what the sensation is. She reaches up to fidget with her braid absentmindedly, eyes focusing on the driveway. “I prefer Agatha, but now isn’t the time. I believe we should have company any second now, Agent Fury. Which, I suppose, means we’re close to heading out.”

Sure enough, with a popping sound and a puff of pink smoke (Agatha tries not to cringe at the insult that pink magic is, given nobody’s ever asked her anyway), three other women are standing at the edge of the driveway, where previously there was nothing. It occurs to her that Fury hasn’t met any of them yet - when he and the two teenagers showed up on the Kaplan doorstep, the rest of the coven had opted out of tagging along that day. Now was as good of a time as any to meet the shitshow he had just signed up for when he expressed that they could all go.

Except Rio, of course. But that’s…different. Death is busy, and also not someone any of them feel like seeing today.

Wanda, who has finished vanishing the house and all of its accessories, is the first person the coven defaults to. She isn’t formally part of the coven, or at least she doesn’t have to be, but they’ve come to see her with the same affection and inclusion that the Kaplans, the twins, and Agatha have all felt. Agatha beckons to Fury with one index finger, and as they start to move, it’s obvious that Wanda is finally letting her tears fall. Alice is immediately engulfing the Scarlet Witch in a bear hug, and Jen isn’t far behind.

(It’s odd, really, because Jen isn’t a hugger by default - just another way this touch-starved nexus being has changed their lives, both massively and subtly.)

The two younger witches are talking Wanda through her thoughts. Agatha makes the safe choice and sidles up to Lilia, Fury in tow. “Did you guys find the storage I left instructions for?”

Lilia sighs, then nods. “Alice got everything moved over this morning.” Her eyes change focus, and she extends her hand. “Agent Fury, I presume. Lilia Calderu, divination witch.”

Fury nods, extending a polite smile as the two shake hands. “Good to meet you. Honestly, I wasn’t totally expecting an entourage when I came looking for Maximoff and her kids, but I’m definitely not complaining. Gonna need all hands on deck with this bunch.”

Lilia chuckles quietly. “Well, it gives our little group something to do, so we’re not complaining either.”

“You just don’t like sitting still for too long, Lilia,” Jen adds as she and Alice approach, Wanda not far behind. While the two younger witches break the ice with Fury, Lilia gathers a less tearful, yet still visibly emotional Wanda in her arms.

“I know, honey,” she murmurs against the younger witch’s scalp. “It’s part of it. We’re going to get through this. Are the boys coming with us today?”

Wanda pulls back, shaking her head. Her face isn’t blotchy, but her eyes are still a bit red-rimmed in the early April sun. “No, we did some birthday stuff with them last weekend, but on top of getting the house set up for the friends that are leasing it, Bex and Jeff wanted to take them out to do a few other birthday activities this weekend. They’ll be coming in on Monday.” She glances over at Fury, breathing slow in an obvious attempt to stabilize her thoughts. “Did their housing situation get taken care of?”

The older man nods, looking gruff but with the same twinkle in his eye that’s always made Wanda grin. “They’ve got a decent house a few blocks from our campus. Almost everything has been moved over that can be. What, did you doubt me?”

“I mean…” Wanda drawls, mischief in her little grin. “You are getting up there in years, Fury.” She giggles, then fully laughs as he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Jesus, Maximoff, I’m bringing back the remaining team members so I don’t hear age jokes all day! I got blipped same as you, it took five years off my numbers!” His tone sounds offended, but he’s trying so hard not to laugh with Wanda that the tone means absolutely nothing. “We need to get our asses moving, though. A few of your old colleagues are already on campus.”

As Fury rolls his eye, Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Fury, unless you had a sorcerer enchant your car, there’s definitely not enough room for six people. I know our belongings are in my dimensional storage, but I’m fairly certain your car only seats five.”

“It definitely does,” calls another voice behind the lot of them - one apparently deeply familiar to Wanda. She whips around, and her eyes light up like she’s seen a star in person, and Agatha maybe doesn’t feel quite so ready to commit murder when she realizes who the hell this is.

Wanda starts to walk his way, a mischievous grin playing on the edges of her lips as if she hadn’t just been crying. “Well, well. You actually have your hearing aids in. Look what the cat dragged in! I guess Fury was more desperate than I thought!”

Judging by the grin on his face, this isn’t new - or intended with malice. “Well, I heard you were dating the Jolene herself, so I had to come see it. Not to mention,” his grin faded a bit as he stepped forward, meeting her closer to him than halfway and laying his hands on her arms, “I believe I have an apology tour stop to make here. And it might be the biggest one I screwed up on.”

Wanda tilts her head. Agatha can hear the curiosity and sadness burning through her lover’s mind. If he is forgiven and he abandons her again, ever, I’ll kill him with my bare hands.

Clint Barton steps forward a little bit more, moving his hands up to cup Wanda’s face - not in a way that raises alarm with Agatha, but as a father looks at an eldest daughter he’d never had, a first real protegee.

And a broken promise.

Wanda sighs. “Clint, you couldn’t have known, but yes, it hurt. A lot.”

Barton huffs and closes his eyes, but it’s not angry. “Stop reading my mind and let me say this.” He opens his eyes again, and it’s very obviously still weighing down on him. “I broke a promise I made the day your brother saved my life. That if I had a way to know it was getting bad, I would step in and give even some little bit of the support you two gave each other in your lives. I broke that, kid, and look where it took you. I am so sorry, Wanda. That was never part of the plan. You didn’t deserve that. Things were really messy but it didn’t excuse where I went wrong.”

Agatha is actually deeply surprised Wanda isn’t already crying again. But she can feel the roiling storm in her mind. “I survived. I’m still here. And things are finally…starting to mean something again. I actually want to live, even if it’s not all the time, but there are more good moments than bad. And the bad are less intense.” She takes a shaking breath. “Long story short, I survived. I’m still here, Clint. I don’t know how, I haven’t made sense of it yet, but things are right, even if I’m terrified of setting foot in another fight. You may not have been there, and it did hurt, and I was angry. But I forgave you when I realized how much of my survival could be attributed to things I learned from you.”

Over Wanda’s shoulder, Agatha can see the older man crying, and feels even slightly less murderous. Wanda is still surprisingly composed.

“Kid, I am so sorry. I missed you so much. You did good. We’re gonna get through this bullshit one final time, and then if Fury doesn’t put me out to pasture, I’m gonna ask Rocket to come out here and shoot me. He still wants, like, half of my weapons.”

Wanda bursts out laughing, Clint not far behind her, and suddenly Wanda is swallowed into the second bear hug she’s received of the day.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that.”

“But I meant it, and sometimes you don’t hear shit the first time I tell you.”

“Clint, I’m not the partially deaf party in this. Although, you’d think I should be, surviving an avalanche and whatnot.” (Agatha tries not to cough, and Alice smirks in amusement beside her.)

“Well, maybe I mean that sometimes you don’t believe shit the first time I tell you.”

“I can confirm, she does have that problem,” Agatha calls before she can stop herself, as Wanda buries her face in the older Avenger’s shirt and finally lets a few tears fall. Clint flashes Agatha an affable grin, and for an Avenger, she can see the parental appeal for Wanda.

“She just always wants to do what’s right. Even if sometimes she gets tricked down the wrong path.” He squeezes Wanda tighter, running a hand through her hair as if comforting a child after a bad day. “But I’d venture a guess that I have you to thank for giving this one somewhere to feel home again.”

Agatha lights up in a faint smile. “In a manner of speaking. She didn’t deserve to be lost.”

The double meaning is not lost on Clint either. “I will do what I can to fix it.”

“You’d better,” and Agatha lets her eyes flash purple to prove a point. Hawkeye grimaces in understanding, but doesn’t comment. Beside her, Alice speaks.

“This has been interesting, don’t get me wrong, but I’d still like to know how the hell we’re all getting there. Could we not portal?”

“There’s a lot more cloaking done on this campus,” Fury replies as he steps forward. “More secure than the compound was. Portals aren’t easy to get in. Clint didn’t just show up for a family reunion.” Whipping what looks to be a clicker of some sort out of his jacket, he taps the button.

As the cloaking mechanic is lifted, and a massive plane comes into view (this looks a lot like the Quinjet, Wanda whispers into the link), Agatha groans. “No offense, Fury, but I fucking hate planes.”

Wanda’s looking at her, smirking. “Oh god, you don’t get air sick, do you? I don’t think I can magically replicate this shirt.”

Agatha flares her eyes, just for emphasis, and glares in offense. The little witch is being much spicier than normal. Either she’s picked up Agatha’s biting humor, or she’s just wearing a brave face. “You’ll find out, won’t you darling?” I will make you scream inside that bird and Mr. Father Figure over there will have to hear his eldest adopted child getting absolutely-

Point taken. Wanda immediately casts an illusion to cover the flaring blush on her cheeks, backing down. How very dare you.

Just reminding you who runs this shitshow, darling, Agatha drawls back into the link, and Alice coughs emphatically behind her.

“We should get moving,” she reminds the duo, grinning. “If I accidentally tap in on you two psychically flirt-fighting again before we’re on campus, I’m going to throw up. Agatha, please tell me you don’t actually suffer airsickness.”

Agatha sighs heavily. “I wouldn’t know, if I’m in the air it’s usually a broom or my own stores of magic. Mechanical birds just seemed odd to me.”

Wanda’s in front of her now, cold little hands on Agatha’s shoulders. She waves the others on, promising to be right there, before turning back to Agatha and brushing her nose across the other woman’s, then a chaste little kiss. 

“Hey. I promise it’s not that bad. If you start to feel…not so great, I’ve got a few things that’ll help. Or rather they should, in your case. And it’s only a short flight.” Her face is understanding, almost too much so, and so earnest that it cracks the shell Agatha’s enacted for herself around so many new faces. And Wanda, ever the empath, she can see it, can feel the walls come down. 

“I’m right here,” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere without you. Together or not at all.”

(She’ll break that promise later.)

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Agatha blinks. “I know, honey. I guess this is just affecting me more than I realize.” She grabs Wanda’s hand, and they start the trek to the on ramp. I’m too old to be this nervous, hot stuff. Either rein yours in or see if anyone has drugs.

Agatha Harkness! Wanda gasps into the link, scolding her lover. You will not be popping pills on this flight! That’s like the first rule you can’t break when flying!

Agatha yawns, then winks. Rules are made to be broken, sweet cheeks. That’s why I’ve lived so long. I’m just following directions.

I love you, Wanda sighs suddenly, repositioning their fingers to interlock. I promise I’m right here.

I know. By the way, you’re a fucking brat. And I correct my brats when they misbehave. Agatha flares her eyes again, and relishes the bob of Wanda’s throat as she gulps silently, biting the corner of her lip.

What, did I join a harem of brats when I let you sleep with me? Her dry, sarcastic psychic voice is greatly different compared to her demure, shyly smiling countenance. Agatha grins.

No, but you’ll be my last one, she replies, warming at Wanda’s sharp inhale beside her. As they enter the plane and take their seats, Wanda is all too eager to wrap Agatha in a cuddle through the flight.

I love you too, superstar.

Chapter Text

It’s midafternoon when they get to the new training campus, but Wanda is already exhausted - maybe it’s a trauma response. 

Maybe it’s the terrible quality of sleep she’s had for the last month and a half, since Strange barged into the cottage; her sleep has been plagued with nightmares all over again, and Agatha has had to “flip the script” on their little lullaby routine some nights. Maybe it’s the exertion from vanishing the cottage (or teleporting, she remembered an hour ago; just another reason she loves Agatha to every universe and back). 

Maybe it’s the anxiety of facing her old crowd, or rather…the crowd she acted as part of. Even though for much of the time, she felt excruciatingly alone. Her only solace, besides Vision and Natasha, was the occasional weekends at the Bartons’, or being called out of the compound randomly for a week at a time because Clint knew she was burning out from back to back missions - Laura could hear it in her voice on the phone. The man who had acted as her family, had grieved her with his own family during the Blip, had apologized to her as a father to a prodigal daughter just a couple of hours ago, is currently piloting the jet back to something she once considered her jail with benefits.

Don’t get it confused, Wanda loved them, still loves them all fiercely. All the ones they lost years ago. She would give anything for another hour with them. But the irony is never lost on her these days. It may have been, once, decades ago in her innocence. But she’s not very innocent now, is she, not since the rocket through her floor. Not even since a Russian soldier called her a not so nice word when she was five, and she went home to tell Mama and ask what it meant, and Mama had to explain to her twins what slurs meant and how they’re evil and cruel. Little Wanda, who always felt too much even as she entered school age, who always loved too much, had been devastated to realize how dark the world could be.

But she has her boys, her incredible boys and their legal parents and her not-coven and her almost-best friend Death (and doesn’t that make Agatha exhale a sigh of exasperation, that her baby daddy is thick as thieves with her lover, but they all know she’s growing warm to the comic relief). And she has Agatha, her Agatha, and it still sends a rush through her veins when she thinks about it too much. Agatha, who knows what Wanda is, that Wanda feels too much to cope sometimes and manages to genuinely fuck things up…or she used to, but it’s been awhile since the last time…so maybe. But Agatha, the “reformed witch killer,” the reluctant mentor, the oddly doting best friend, the intense lover, chooses to remain.

And now, she has the Bartons again. Sort of. She has Clint, who is…

Standing in front of her and Agatha, as Wanda’s eyes crack open. “Hey kid, we’re here. You guys were sleeping pretty hard. Jen said something about a storage unit? She’s kind of intense, so I wanted to make sure to come back out.”

With a deep yawn, Wanda realizes that she and Agatha had, in fact, fallen asleep. But she hadn’t dreamt, which was intriguing. She had dreamt, but it was more like lucid thought. And she actually feels such a rush of love for the woman beside her as the memory hits. She plasters a tired, benign smile on her face for Clint, crinkling her nose. “Thanks, Clint. I guess I didn’t realize we were so worn out. We’ll be out in a second.”

After he’s gone, she turns to Agatha, who is still sleeping. She had settled in once she realized Wanda would willingly stay wrapped around her the entire flight if not instructed otherwise. Now she’s leaning against Wanda’s side, arm slung through Wanda’s own, still breathing slowly.

“Agatha,” she whispers, gently pushing on the older witch. Agatha doesn’t stir.

Frustrated, Wanda tries again. “Agatha. We’re here. Flight’s over, my love.” Still nothing. Wanda snickers to herself, then leans in a little more.

“I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings…” she sings, in a soft murmur, but just loud enough that she knows Agatha will hear her. Sure enough, a quiet huff, though Agatha’s eyes remain closed.

“Hot stuff, if you’re going to wake me up with singing, does it have to be that song?” The older witch’s voice is raspy and hoarse from sleep, and Wanda’s breath catches in her throat for a moment. That tone of voice with Agatha is-

Agatha is conscious, upright, and an inch from Wanda’s face. That fucking all-knowing smirk plays on her mouth. “I’ll make sure to talk dirty in this tone to you more often, sweet cheeks, you’re blushing,” and Wanda groans, because she knows the older witch isn’t lying.

“Well, we’re here. And if you don’t want me to sing Paper Rings to you, maybe stop feeding my vinyl addiction.” At Agatha’s singular raised eyebrow, she quickly amends, “I’m kidding!”

Agatha snorts and brushes noses with her. “You’re ridiculous. Now scoot, so I can get up. I don’t need to listen to Jen bitching for the next two hours because I took a damn nap.”

Wanda can feel her blush retreating and scoffs good-naturedly. “Jen’s a midwife, tell her to practice Lamaze if she feels like freaking out.”

“I fucking heard that, Maximoff!” A disembodied voice startles the both of them, until Wanda laughs as she realizes it’s just Jen herself.

“Love you too, Jenny!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Okay, well, I love you!”

Jen steps into the jet, trying to look irritated but very clearly amused. “Fucking suck-up. You’re lucky I adore you, and that Alice would bury me alive if I pissed you off. Come on, Harkness, I’ve got about twenty different things I need out of storage and Lilia can’t find the directions since we left!”

This time, Agatha groans, and they both stand up. “We’re coming, we just haven’t been sleeping super well lately. Hard to wake up when you actually sleep.”

Jen pauses, eyebrows temporarily knit together, and nods. She looks as if she has questions, wants to ask about the lack of sleep, or something, anything in that realm to make sure the duo is safe. She says nothing, though, and they all head out of the jet quietly.

Fury wasn’t kidding when he called the new training grounds “campus.” The place is nearly big enough to be a major college building, though it’s just that, one main building. Two stories, industrial looking exterior, and in between the sides of the building, with its odd U-shape, the campus boasts an outdoor training area. Covered pool, walking track, small flat grass field good for practicing in the elements. Oddly enough, there’s also a small playground, the kind more fitting for an elementary school or small public park.

The most interesting thing about it, though, is actually the cloaking mechanism. It puts up a barrier akin to the dome of Wakanda, though it’s invisible, but it also somehow disguises the building. Kamala is very eager to show Wanda what it looks like outside the barrier in a video on her phone - apparently, it just looks like a standard, generic factory or warehouse design. And perhaps, on the inside of the barrier, it does look more industrial than even Avengers compound had been. But Fury has certainly made damn sure it’s different.

Inside, while the aesthetic still is pretty clearly modern and Stark-esque, there’s a touch of home that makes it more bearable. Photos on the walls, newspaper clippings, encouragement posters. An entire game room with speakers, card games, consoles, whatever the group is doing. The communal kitchen looked much more personal, distinctly more friendly.

“Carol pointed out to me, when we were setting this up, that some of the kids coming in are so much younger than we thought,” Fury says to Wanda quietly as they settle in the common area, a sprawling yet homey room directly connected to the kitchen. A few dining tables are set up, and there’s a sitting area with couches along the walls and a massive TV over the fireplace. “A lot of these kids, even some of the ones who have had families the whole time, come with their own baggage from being enhanced, trauma, what have you. They’ve had to grow up too fast just to make it here.”

“Giving them the chance to still maintain a semblance of their innocence in a safe place will only amplify the quality of their training,” Agatha remarked softly beside Wanda. “Kids in situations like this, in any kind of unconventional lifestyle that begs them to grow up before they’re ready, need a place to decompress. They can have fun without judgment or anything too terrible, and their learning will be all the better for it.”

Fury leans past Wanda, who is fighting back a loving little smile, and cocks an eyebrow at Agatha. “That’s exactly what Carol said. Sort of. Can you all stop reading my mind for a minute, please? Quit stealing my thunder!”

Agatha cackles, and Jen turns to look at her from the kitchen and scoffs. “Didn’t read your mind, Fury. I was a nanny. Well, more like a governess. For awhile, anyway, and before that I taught in a few schools in the 1800s. A few kids in my life have been magical, or enhanced as you say, and that’s the general consensus. If they feel safe, they can process their way to maturity without the anxiety.”

Fury raises the other eyebrow. “Jesus, Harkness, how old are you?”

Wanda cringes, and hopes Agatha didn’t notice, but she did, damn it, and she’s smirking and it’s infuriating. “What, darling, ashamed of our little age gap now? I’m only three hundred and fifty-two, you know!” She tosses her hair, and Wanda blushes again.

I’m not ashamed of it! She all but hisses into Agatha’s mind, and Agatha doesn’t even react as Fury goggles at her for a second.

“Damn, didn’t know witches lived that long without getting all pruny.”

“No shit, she still looks the same as she did the day Dolly Parton slapped her,” Clint quips from the couch, where he’s been playing a very quiet yet very intense game of chess with his newest protégée, whom Wanda and Agatha had met the hour before. Kate Bishop is in her early twenties, quirky but serious and smiley all at once, witty, and super cute, Agatha had whispered into the link earlier, but more like I wish I’d been her mom instead of the bitch she told us about.

Agatha turns to Clint, frowning. “Not a redhead anymore, Barton, it was a phase.”

Clint grins at her. “Regardless, you haven’t changed a bit. Witchy shit indeed.”

I don’t like men, darling, but I’d consider being your stepmom, Agatha jokes to Wanda, who sputters into a cough.

Externally, she says, “Oh! Just a little cough, nothing too bad, I probably need to drink water.”

Internally, she half-shrieks at Agatha, What in the backwoods fucking Alabama did you just say?

“Are you flirting telepathically?” Kate asks, somewhere between awkward and solemn with her question. Agatha shoots the young archer a toothy grin.

“Smart girl,” she says appreciatively, and Kate grins back, visibly relaxing. “We usually flirt telepathically, keeps everyone’s ears safe.”

Wanda runs a hand over her face and sighs, deeply, as a fresh and heavy wave of fatigue crashes over her body and mind. “Okay. It has been lovely catching up with you all. But I can barely think straight right now, and I’d like to take a nap so I can stay somewhat pleasant to be around. Someone please text me when dinner is being discussed.” She offers a tight, bone-weary, overwhelmed smile to the little group and excuses herself, mentally reciting the directions back to hers and Agatha’s rooms. 

Fury had offered to give them separate rooms, but essentially the negotiations had ended with a generous en suite that could either work as two bedrooms or one bedroom and an area to decompress or hold private conversations. Sometimes, Wanda wants to ask Agatha where she learned to negotiate like a fucking debt collector, but she’s almost certain the answer wouldn’t be entirely believable to start off with - or it would remind Wanda that she’s essentially cohabitating with a mob boss.

Wanda worries at her lip as she turns the corner down their hallway, reaching for the door before remembering she had to scan her key card. It’s a stupid mechanism, in her mind, but the cards are some fancy metal that isn’t vibranium. So it’s probably more secure than the stupid plastic ones in a hotel…right? How the hell was this even being paid for? Did Ross sustain a traumatic brain injury that compelled him to start funding new groups in the Avengers scope of work? 

Wanda takes a deep breath. It’s not really her place to ask those kinds of questions, now is it?

Wait. Of course it is. Her children, her reason for trying to do better, are being sucked into this too. She may not be on the paperwork, but she is their mother.

(She has, shockingly enough, overheard a thought in Rebecca’s mind she was never meant to hear, something about adoption or some other kind of question for a way to drag Wanda into their family from a legal standpoint. It can be assumed that Wanda withdrew from that mind so quickly it was as if she’d been shot at, resisting a little gasp of shock with everything in her body so as not to alert Rebecca to what happened. She hadn’t meant to end up in that mind to begin with. She had excused herself and cried, then. She hasn’t told Rebecca that she knows, she can’t, not when she worries that maybe it was a fleeting moment or something that could just be taken back. And then everyone is gone again.)

She has every right to know. She makes a mental note to ask Fury, finally swiping the card and pushing the door open.

Was I - oh god, I wasn’t rude excusing myself, was I? I don’t want people to think-

“No. You weren’t rude, Wanda. You were assertive, and you used some of what Agatha said Billy’s mom has been teaching you. Why are you so worried about what they think? They should just be grateful you’re here, if you ask me, but alas…no one asks Death a fucking thing.”

That voice. It’s very real, not psychic, not conscience. Her conscience doesn’t sound sultry, a little exotic, or like a cat who doesn’t give a shit about boundaries.

A very powerful cat, indeed.

Her conscience isn’t Rio Vidal. Wouldn’t that be a fucking gas. But no, that’s definitely Rio lounging casually on hers and Agatha’s en suite couch.

She tilts her head, a slow smile forming despite her surprise. “I thought you couldn’t get involved.”

Rio wrinkles her nose, unsurprisingly grinning right back. “I can’t, but I didn’t say I couldn’t come check on you. Sometimes I need a little reprieve from the extra bodies, you know.” She’s on her feet and sweeps over to Wanda, wrapping her in a tight hug. “You okay, little bird? This has been weighing on you. A lot.”

“You haven’t seen me in two weeks,” Wanda murmurs in retort, reciprocating the embrace and burying her face in Rio’s hair.  Death is surprisingly warm and soft, and she smells vaguely of earth and some flower Wanda can’t remember the name of. Rio chuckles, reaching up to comb through Wanda’s hair with her fingers, scratching gently at the nape of the redhead’s neck.

“It’s been busy as hell. And with you getting so close to the move, I wanted to give you and Agatha some space. The turmoil rolls off both of you like water, you know. But you…” She pulls back, and Wanda pouts because she needs this hug. She’s had so many today - but someone who had given her a modicum of care the very moment her life first fell apart? Someone who had once loved the woman who has given her love she didn’t even believe was a thing, but now holds them to a higher standard as a pair, treats Wanda as if she’s family, and you’d think they would be, but apparently nexus beings and cosmic beings are a little different…

Hugs from Rio are always different. Like a best friend, but maybe a favorite aunt, or some other older relative that just understood you as a child. That’s the only way Wanda could have ever described it. It feels like family, in an odd way.

“I’m okay,” she whispers, uncertainly, trying to meet Rio’s gaze. “It’s just been a little scary. Nothing I haven’t done before, you know that. Does Agatha know you’re here?”

Rio pulls her back in, settling Wanda’s head under her chin. “She does, I told her I was coming by, she’ll probably be coming in here soon. And stop masking. We talked about this. You know I can see through it.”

“Unfortunately, she’s right,” Agatha drawls from the door behind them, and Wanda, pulling out of the hug, turns and chuckles. “Rio isn’t someone you can hide your feelings from. If you ask me how I know, I will not be elaborating, so don’t.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, but her smile remains - though it looks tired, and she can tell she’s not masking it well by the thinly veiled concern in Agatha’s sharp eyes. “Sorry for just running out like that. It…it’s just…”

“You’re overwhelmed. It’s a lot.” Agatha’s expression, originally wolfish and mischievous as normal, softens as she searches Wanda’s face, stepping closer. “You’re trying to keep it together, because you know that come Monday, there will be a bunch of hellspawn we’ll be partly responsible for. But sweetheart…”

“It’s okay to feel the bad things,” Wanda finishes dryly, letting out an annoyed huff before she can stop herself, and Agatha raises a single brow and smirks.

“Rebecca wouldn’t be very pleased to hear your response to me reminding you to do the best thing for yourself,” she sing-songs back, and Rio snickers behind Wanda.

“I feel like I’m about to end up with a voyeurism kink if you two keep sassing each other like you’ve been married for centuries,” Death giggles, and Agatha’s nostrils flare as she tries to stay composed but fails miserably. For as cheerful and giggly as Rio can be when she’s annoying the mortals, her laugh never ceases to be contagious.

Wanda giggles too, and the tension is relieved, to an extent, though Wanda’s storm and fatigue and lingering headache remain. She surges forward, closing the gap between herself and Agatha, and wraps herself around the older witch, nestling her face into the crook of Agatha’s neck, taking in the scent she’d come to associate with safety and home.

“I’m sorry for being so crabby,” she mumbles against Agatha’s neck, and the older woman twitches as the vibrations tickle her a little. Long fingers come up to card through auburn strands, while the other arm is locked around the younger witch’s frame, and Agatha sighs, deeply.

“You really haven’t been that bad, hot stuff. It really has been a lot, hasn’t it?” Hearing Wanda make a noise to the affirmative before stifling a deep yawn, she smiles and rocks them both side to side for a minute. “We’re all stressed, hon. But you’re reliving hell. Just this time, not so alone.”

“Not alone at all,” Rio affirms quietly, and Wanda can hear the smile in her voice, and the calming sense of peace that comes over her tingles just a bit, down to her toes. She fails to stifle her yawn this time, and feels Agatha exhale slowly.

“You still haven’t napped, toots. You got less than two hours of sleep last night. I counted. And the plane ride wasn’t super long, not compared to weeks of insomnia and nightmares.” She pulls back from the hug slightly and taps the end of Wanda’s nose, eyes so fond it nearly hurts. “I’m starting to worry about you again. If Rio showed up, with warning, less than a day after we moved? She’s worried too. She usually gives me a few days before she comes to make fun of the decor changes.”

“Honestly, this one isn’t bad, though I find the lack of a sex dungeon in the second room to be a missed opportunity,” Rio says thoughtfully, and Wanda bursts out laughing as she tries to stop herself from blushing at the idea. Agatha shakes her head, but chuckles and continues. Her voice is soft, but firm and leaves no room for debate. For her own safety, Wanda listens raptly.

“Wanda, I refuse to lose you to this. Do you understand? I will not lose you. It’s not going to happen.”

(It could.)

šțøp

                         Płēâßě

   ÐØŅ’Ť ĎØ ȚĦÏŞ ŤÖ MĚ

                                    Ĩ’M ẞØŘRŶ

Ī LØVË ÝØÜ

(Broadcast terminated.)

“I understand, Agatha,” Wanda replies quietly, knowing it’s better to agree. She is unmoving in this, and right now Wanda just wants to sleep. “Can I lie down now?”

Agatha smiles, and it’s almost sad as she looks at the redhead. “Yes, honey. And Rio can stay. If you have time,” she corrects, and Rio scrunches her nose and bounds over to the massive king size bed. She settles on the outer edge, with the intention of Wanda being in the center. And Wanda has no idea how she’s in the bed, but she’s there now. Rio’s front is pressed to her back, Rio is listening to her heart beat and honestly providing an unexpected sense of comfort. Agatha is wrapped around her front, and she’s got Wanda tucked in.

“I can stay, for a little bit,” Rio murmurs, and Wanda warms at the hum Agatha lets out.

“Thank you. You know why. You’re helping.” Her voice grows low and quiet, and if Wanda weren’t so sleepy she’d strain to hear. “She needs this. Not sure how my girl ended up best friends with my ex, but-”

“Cosmic entities and shit,” Rio replies quietly, with a grin, before growing sincere as she says firmly, “No matter what we’ve been in this universe, Agatha, you are my family. It helps that this little cosmic firecracker is somehow the friendliest one of us I’ve met, and she cares beyond her own ability. She needs all of us. You need all of us, Ags, and if you deny it I’ll reap you.”

Wanda lets out a little shaky breath as darkness finally overtakes her senses, and the other two quickly take the hint. As the silence falls, Wanda barely registers the faintest squeal of static in the edges of her mind.

Chapter Text

She’s sitting at a modern, yet ornately carved, long table in what has to be a fucking palace. There is no food in front of her, just a glass of wine and an odd sense of discomfort and dread surrounding it.

Across from her, at the other end of the table, sits a tall male figure. He is fully armored, but seated casually. His face is covered, shrouded by a faceplate, but his mouth is visible. He smiles, and it seems to be intended as benign and harmless.

Wanda isn’t buying a fucking bit of it.

“The choice is yours, Wanda.” The man speaks, and his voice is smooth and cool. “You could actually choose to help me. You wouldn’t be able to stop me, your power is too untamed, and yet. You have so much potential, Scarlet Witch.” He leans forward on his arms, just slightly. “We could create the Ultimate Utopia. Everything you have ever desired, back at your fingertips and never taken from you again. No war, no famine, no disease, no poverty…just perfection.”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “You sound like every megalomaniac I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Where are we? Who the hell are you, and just who do you think you are?”

The man smiles wider through the mask, lets out a small chuckle. “All the answers you’re seeking will come in time. But know that even if you refuse, you cannot stop me. The only salvation for the multiverse is ultimate unification, and your power is minute compared to mine. Your sons, your partner, your team, your family…all will perish if you refuse to help. Your power is required.”

A strange, icy prickle seeps into Wanda’s psyche, cold and prickly. It’s rage, and fear, and indignant curiosity. She stands abruptly, though she doesn’t remember telling her body to move. “I will ask one more time. Who are you?”

The man is on his feet, and suddenly in front of her next to her chair. Before she can reel backwards, his metal-covered hand has gripped her chin, leaving absolutely no room for her to pull away. Her rage burns hot, and she reaches for her magic only to find…it can’t be brought out.

There are runes on the walls. Big ones.

The man smirks under his mask, metallic fingers squeezing tighter on her chin. “It is rather interesting how you don’t seem to learn from your past, isn’t it?”

“What the hell do you want from me? I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know where I am. But you do not threaten my family and have your head continue to be attached to your neck.” She’s snarling now, yanking her face out of his grip. She sees his eyes…and they flare a neon, ugly, toxic shade of green.

“All in due time. It’s time for you to wake up now, isn’t it?” He steps away, waving green mist idly around his hands. “We’ll talk again soon. Whether you like it or not, you will come to your senses and use that power of yours to forge the Ultimate Utopia.”

She comes to a quietly gasping, shaking state of consciousness as she is blasted out of the palace hall.

What the hell was that?

She can’t do this. She just fucking can’t.

It’s been three days since the coven made their way onto campus. The rest of the new kids, those who haven’t trickled in over the last day or two, will be on campus tomorrow morning, and her sons this evening. She has to get it together. She has to work past horrible sleep, haunting dreams, past trauma, looming dread over the possible failure, anxiety - all of it. And quickly, at least enough that she can actually function without scaring the children.

The pressure of that thought makes Wanda vaguely physically uncomfortable, then extremely nauseous. With a groan, she stands, and unsteadily rushes to the ensuite bathroom, where she promptly throws up, narrowly making it to the toilet on time. As she straightens up and moves to the sink, immediately rinsing her mouth out, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sighs.

The dark circles are back. They’re not terrible, nothing like her Darkhold days, but they persist. Her cheeks are thinning again, almost too much so - the anxiety has made it unreasonably difficult to eat as well as Agatha has made her do in the last several months. Wanda would be lying if she denied faking her food consumption when it’s all too painful, when the air is too thick and her stomach knots up and eye contact feels like she’s being burned alive.

Beneath her fingertips, the marble of the sink cracks with little glowing red lines.

“Fuck.” She focuses, and the cracks heal themselves. If only that worked on her brain.

A soft knock, barely noticeable, sounds from the door. Wanda sighs again, and reaches out with her magic. She’s startled to realize that there isn’t just one person out in the hall - it’s three. Kamala’s bubbly presence is obvious, America’s is tentative, and…

An adult, but not one who was here before.

“Just a second,” she calls back to them quietly, hurrying out of the bathroom and to the door. As she pulls it open, Kamala is, of course, the first face she sees.

“Hi! I am so sorry, I wasn’t going to bug you-” she begins In her usual chatter, but Wanda stops her with the gentlest smile she can physically muster.

“You’re fine, Kamala, I’m just a little tired. What do you need?”

“Actually, she and America were showing me which room was yours.” A new, but not unfamiliar voice speaks up, and the familiar face steps into view from around the door frame. Wanda’s smile turns into a grin before she can stop herself, nerves easing slightly. “Hey, Wanda.”

“Carol,” she replies, scrunching her nose and not recoiling as the older Avenger steps forward to wrap her in a hug. “I’m glad you made it before everyone else showed up. I was wondering. Though I’m glad to see another kid dropped off,” and she smiles encouragingly over Carol’s shoulder at America, who relaxes considerably and smiles back. “Kate’s cool, but I worry she’s not quite young enough to keep Kamala entertained. And Riri is closer to Kate’s age, so I doubt she has the same captivating power either.”

“Hey, I’m super helpful and don’t need constant entertainment!” Kamala protests, but she has the faintest grin on her face. Wanda winks at her as she feels the mask of stability slipping back over her own features.

Apparently, though, so does America, whose smile fades a little as her eyebrows crease together. You’re not very okay right now, are you?

Wanda fights to keep her composure as the teenager speaks into her mind, chatting casually with Carol as she pulls out of the hug. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart.

It’s not convincing, and Wanda knows it because America looks incredibly unconvinced. But even without their rather complicated history, America is a child, and Wanda doesn’t want to push her personal hell onto anyone else as it is…let alone the kids. Thankfully, likely realizing Wanda won’t budge, America lets it go.

Outside of the psychic existential crisis, Carol is about to leave the hallway. “I’ll see you at dinner, obviously, but I wanted to come by and get to say hello before we’re completely freaking swamped getting these kids going, you know?”

Unsure of how else to respond, Wanda nods and keeps her smile plastered to her face. “I’m glad you came to see little old me first. It’s been odd coming back to this. I’ll see you in a bit.” Realizing how long Agatha’s been gone, she glances at Kamala. “What on earth is the coven doing with the archers that has had them outside for three whole hours?”

Kamala snorts. “Your girlfriend suggested enchanted trick arrows of varying explosive levels and effects. They’ve been workshopping ever since.”

Enchanted arrows? Clint literally has Pym particle arrows, and Agatha has decided to enchant more arrows. It’s too early in the afternoon for the headache that’s about to come on. Wanda resists the urge to groan and just smiles, shaking her head. “It would be a lie to tell you this is the first time she’s come up with a brilliant idea with questionable ethics. But I’m glad she’s making friends. I’ll see you guys tonight. Thank you for showing Carol around. You’re doing great.”

As Carol and Kamala begin to walk away, Wanda detects the faintest squeal of excitement from Kamala at the praise. A true Avengers fan, indeed, and it makes her laugh internally for a moment. Then she notices America hanging back, nervously picking at one of her nails.

“What’s up, America?” She tries to keep her voice gentle, coaxing, and hopes to all hell it works. America meets her gaze, a question very clearly on her lips.

“Is it okay if I hug you?”

The request startles Wanda, not in a bad way, but just due to the unexpectedness. She processes the question in a split second, smiles sadly at the young girl, and nods wordlessly. After the time she’s been having, she doesn’t trust herself to speak.

Suddenly, she has a shorter, small frame throwing arms around her, and she hugs back carefully. She can only think of one thing, though, and she has to say it. “Why?”

Beneath her chin, she hears America mumble weakly into her shirt, “Because you feel safe now, but you’re not doing okay and I want to help. And when we learned about the boys…I realized you didn’t know what you were doing. And that you aren’t what you acted like. I’m not going to ask because I know grown-ups like to say that they can’t burden kids with their problems, but I wanted to hug you. Is that bad?”

“No.” But I don’t deserve it, Wanda doesn’t say as her eyes fill with tears. She hugs just a touch more firmly. “It’s not bad. I just…I didn’t expect this. Thank you. You might want to go catch up, though, you know Kamala power walks everywhere.”

“She says it’s because Carol is so much taller than her,” America replies with a quiet giggle, before reluctantly pulling back and looks down the hall. Wanda can’t help but notice the look on the teenager’s face - because it’s one she’s seen on her own, so many times, as someone who has lost everything more than a few times. It’s paltry amounts of hope mixed with a lot of terror, wisdom and hyper vigilance beyond her years, yet youthful lack of understanding…

But today, all that does is make Wanda feel an insurmountable amount of guilt over what the Darkhold had convinced her was the “solution” last year. She waves America onward, not wanting the girl to see her in the state she can feel her mind reaching. America nods, smiles, and silently hurries after her friend and Carol.

If anything happens to her, I’m going to snap.

If we lose any of these kids, I’m not going to be able to stop myself.

The second Wanda is back inside the room, her facade crumbles. As a tidal wave destroys beachgoers’ sandy creations in the blink of an eye, her tumultuous emotions under the surface crash over any feelings of hope and happiness, until she has slid down the height of the door to sit against it, curled into herself. Her eyes can’t focus on anything, she can’t make them, it’s taking too much intention to fall apart without allowing her magic to act of its own volition. She soundproofs the room as the flowing silent tears give way to chest-heaving sobs.

I can’t do this. I can’t.

She’s so fucking tired of crying.

You’re going to lose them…it’s inevitable. You always fail everyone, you always lose everyone, and you’ll never be anything but alone. You are a curse to all who love you. You’re going to lose them.

She hasn’t heard that voice in her head in months, but it’s like it never stopped. Her lungs feel empty, tight - she can’t breathe, why can’t she just breathe? Why is it all hurting so much again? Why can’t she just keep it together and stay in a place of stability in her mind? She’s been making so much progress…but here she is.

She’s not even sure how long she’s been sitting here, but her joints have started to ache - whether from the cold floor or the crying, she can’t discern. In her spiral, she barely notices a prickling sensation in the back of her mind - until the prickle becomes an obvious psychic presence that isn’t her own. Agatha. And the way the prickle has spread, it’s evident Agatha has, somehow, sensed that Wanda is very not stable right now.

She can’t - Agatha can’t see her like this again. She can’t know how bad it is. She does know it’s bad, but she can’t…she’s already done so much for Wanda. She doesn’t deserve to have to keep babysitting Wanda, not when she’s already been so beyond loving and helpful. With a shaking sob, Wanda forces walls up around her mind, sealing herself off inside her own crippled psyche. The act makes her cry harder, feeling truly, utterly alone.

One moment passes.

Then another. But they feel excruciatingly long, agonizing, like she’s being stretched right along with them. Her chest aches as she continues to sob, struggling to breathe, hollow and empty as the day she felt Pietro’s life snuff out.

Another moment passes.

Knock.

Was that her head tapping the door as she leaned back, or did someone just knock again?

Knock knock.

Okay, that was definitely a knock.

She tries to stifle her sobs, before remembering that she soundproofed the room anyway. Regardless, she tries to stay quiet, letting the tears fall. Maybe whoever it is - Carol, Kamala, Clint, Fury - will just go away if nobody answers.

Except, go figure, it’s none of them.

“Wanda, I know you’re in there. I doubt it’s what you meant to do, but you blocked the suite from teleportation.”

Fuck, seriously?

Wanda focuses her magic, and sure enough, she didn’t soundproof the room correctly and also sealed it off from teleporting. With a shaking sigh, she lifts the botched spell, but also teleports herself back into the bathroom and locks the door shut as she curls up on the floor. She thins the walls in her mind, just enough to speak to Agatha, trying to keep her psychic voice steady.

Sorry. Was trying to soundproof, guess I got too distracted. Enchantment lifted. You should be able to come in either way now.

The quiet thunk-thunk of Agatha’s shoes on the wood floor follows a quick opening and closing of the “front” door. Less than a minute later, Wanda can see the shadow of her lover from under the door.

“Wanda. Can I come in, or can you come out here?”

I will as soon as I can, she replies back telepathically, and she hears Agatha’s deep sigh from the other room. Guilt prods at her insides for upsetting the woman she loves - just something else to feel shitty about today. Another track of tears streams down her face, and she fights back another wave of nausea as her stomach twists.

“Darling, I know you’ve been doing better for a while, but you should understand that I don’t completely trust you to be alone right now.”

I’m fine, Wanda insists psychically, though even in her own head it sounds pathetic and weak.

“Then why are you not speaking out loud, honey? Don’t try to bullshit me, you have a tell.” Agatha has a little bit of snark in her voice, but most of her tone is abnormally gentle given the response. “Please, my love. You know I don’t beg. I’m trying to help.”

Wanda has the gnawing, unpleasant realization that Agatha knows her entirely too well, and she’s not going to be able to argue much. She can either let Agatha in, or Agatha will let herself in. Agatha loves her deeply; she isn’t going to allow Wanda to fall apart again. Not like before, not the same as when Agatha had pulled her from the ruins of a collapsed mountain all those months ago.

Wanda can’t fail her like this.

(But she will.)

płěąßë…pļëãßé

ŇØ

ŴÃŅÐÄ

ÐŒŃ’Ť ŁĚÆVÉ MË ĻǏĶĚ ŤĦÎŞ

płēæşé

Ī ñêéď møřė ťîmë…

The wave of nausea overwhelms her senses, and at the same moment her magic unlocks the door, she barely makes it to the toilet and retches again. She’s heaving and it feels like it won’t stop, like she’ll just wither away and fly into the ether with the wind. And no sooner has the door to the bathroom opened then Agatha is kneeling at her side, one hand holding her hair back while the other rubs circles in her back, soothing the strained muscles as she makes soft shushing noises at random.

It takes a moment to pass, but pass it finally does. Exhausted from the meltdown, and physically weakened from essentially losing any nutrients she’s consumed today, Wanda starts to rest her forehead against the seat. Beside her, Agatha tuts. “Princess, we didn’t just get back from the bar, and I feel like you've probably emptied your stomach at this point. Come on.”

In a flash of that unsettling teleportation feeling, the pair is in the bed, and Agatha immediately tucks Wanda under her chin and wraps her arms around the younger witch’s back. Her hands are pressing firmly against Wanda’s lower back, squeezing her body tightly but not tight enough to cause any discomfort - “deep pressure,” Bex had called it. Wanda can at least remember that much. It has something to do with sensory input and calming down. And it actually does feel stabilizing, even if Wanda feels it’s the one thing she doesn’t deserve right now.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Agatha murmurs into her hair, and Wanda is painfully aware that the older witch can and will out-wait her.

“It’s too much,” she whispers, the faintest hint of a whimper in her voice, tearing up a little yet again.

“Being back?” Agatha asks, to clarify, and all Wanda can muster is a short nod.

“Yes…but also having to do this again, and have my family involved now, and see all these ghosts from the old days, and these fucking dreams won’t stop and at this point I don’t know if I believe they’re just a coincidence. But I’m right back where I was, and I…I feel like the person I was the day I left home. Everything hurts, and I’m terrified, and I’m confused, but I don’t want to burden anyone and I don’t want to hurt anyone. And I just…” her voice cracks. “I’m going to lose everything again.”

She doesn’t want to pull away, but she does, because she needs Agatha to understand. But she can’t meet the eyes that have seen right through her again and again, so her gaze remains unfocused, lowered. “It’s never going to get better, is it?”

She winces slightly as Agatha’s hand snakes up, under her chin, forcing Wanda to look at her. “You’re spiraling. You know better than this. Your mind is lying to you. Whether that’s just the post-traumatic stress or something else, I can’t say, but as soon as the boys get here, you’re scheduling your next session with Rebecca.” Before Wanda can retort, Agatha’s expression takes on a vulnerability only Wanda generally gets to see now, and her grip on the younger witch’s chin softens. “I cannot and will not lose you. Whether it be to what’s coming or your own mind. I can’t tell you whether it’ll all work out, but I am not letting you go. Please stop trying to carry this alone. Do you want to talk about any of the nightmares? We haven’t been talking about them the last couple nights, but if it’s been that bad, talk to me.”

Wanda shakes her head at first, then sighs. “The first night was just…flashbacks. But last night…Agatha, I can’t tell if this has significance or not.” She doesn’t want to relive the nightmare, doesn’t want to think about it again, but she knows she has to. She watches Agatha’s hand come to her temple, and both pairs of eyes close. Wanda tries to replay the dream without observing it herself, listening closely to Agatha’s breathing as she watches.

To Wanda’s surprise, the icy sensation of Agatha’s magic swirls around the memory. It tickles, and it’s not her usual response. What are you doing?

Agatha exhales slowly. Trying to trace whether this was your own consciousness getting creative…or if someone is interfering. Try not to react, it’ll break what I’m doing.

So Wanda obeys, biting back the curiosity.

Until Agatha jerks back as if burned, her presence and magic withdrawn from Wanda’s mind so quickly that it feels strangely empty. Agatha is gasping, catching her breath, eyes open and watching the younger witch, one hand over her chest.

“What happened? Are you okay?” The anxiety wells up in her chest, but Agatha holds up her free hand.

“I’m okay. It just…I was tracing it back, and I have never hit a ward that nasty. That hurt. A lot.” Her lips thin as her jaw sets. “Speaking of wards, I think we need to do several wards around your psyche. You should be able to control them enough to let people in - like the coven, and the Chavez kid…”

“How did you know she can do that?” Wanda interrupts, and Agatha chuckles.

“As hard as she was concentrating at Jeff and Rebecca’s? It was obvious. She’s got serious witch potential, that one - I think it's something we should mention.”

Wanda doesn’t know what to think about that, so she goes back to the original topic. “Wait, was it not just a nightmare?”

Agatha, much to Wanda’s surprise, doesn’t answer immediately. She takes a few deep, slow breaths, eyes closed, before meeting Wanda’s gaze again.

“No. It wasn’t.”

“Then what-”

Agatha’s breath is actually shaky. She’s anxious.

“It’s - it’s hard to explain, but I think we're going to need to tell Fury. You know I’ve lived well over 300 years. I’ve seen some pretty insane magical shenanigans, have seen so many different types of dream spells, so much psychological manipulation, but whoever this is, whatever this is doing...”

She takes another breath. “Wanda, whatever this is, it’s something I’ve never seen before.”

Chapter Text

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Wanda has never enjoyed waiting. Patience hasn’t been her strong suit, but in her “street rat” years she always had to pretend it was - because if she didn’t, Pietro would do stupid shit to hurry things along. 

But this? Sitting here, tapping her fingers on her thigh in tandem with the analog clock in the common areas, waiting for a car door to slam shut, waiting to see her sons and her coparents and just feel some semblance of wholeness again? It sucks, and she’s even worse at it now than she was back then!

She’s calmed down considerably from earlier - another micro-nap definitely helped, as did Agatha’s presence. They had spoken to Fury about the nightmares, had given him ample notes, then had finished warding Wanda’s mind…because, in Agatha’s words, “the only one who gets to have anything to do with the Scarlet Witch’s dreams is me.” Wanda had rolled her eyes, but her heart melted at the lengths her sometimes cranky lover would go to protect her. (And the possessiveness had definitely been somewhat of an aphrodisiac, though she hasn’t dared mention as much to Agatha.)

Speaking of which…

Beside her, Agatha has that I know something I shouldn’t smirk on her face. She’s reclined on the couch, right leg crossed over left, and while she makes the following brush of her foot against Wanda’s upper thigh look accidental…Wanda’s not fooled.

Stop messing with me, you know I hate waiting! She grumbles into Agatha’s mind, trying to squash the wave of heat she gets in response before it goes straight below the belt. Agatha’s face barely changes, though one eyebrow twitches a little.

But darling, we don’t have to sit and be bored while we wait…there are other distractions that don’t involve being near other people. Agatha sounds markedly unrepentant, and is practically purring with her psychic voice. It’s half-annoying…and half-working. We could go get our minds off of…the last few hours, at least. I’m of the school of thought where multiple orgasms in the span of an hour will make anyone feel sane again. And we haven’t had the time the last few days for me to pull you away from the brink of insanity.

You’re insufferable, Wanda nearly pants, externally barely containing the effect Agatha’s teasing has had on her. If you can behave for a couple more hours, I’ll take you up on that. I think I heard the Subaru and I’d rather not keep my sons waiting just for a quickie. I thought you hated quickies.

You’re very correct, cupcake. Good girl. I think you deserve a little reward for being so thoughtful. Agatha’s definitely purring now, psychic voice low and silky and promising something Wanda might have to work that much harder to put on the back burner. She instantly casts an illusion to cover the ridiculously deep blush she’s now sporting - especially after the very deliberate praise.

On the outside, Agatha turns and smiles beatifically at her. “Here we go.”

Internally, Agatha sweetly rasps, We’ll need to soundproof the room correctly this time. I want to see how many I can get out of you from ten to midnight. Does that sound good to you, princess?

Wanda only responds in their minds with an affirmative sound. It’s literally all she can do to not bite her lip. She uses shifting her weight to look out the window as a cover for squeezing herself together a bit, pushing down the sudden urges crossing her mind. Agatha is chuckling darkly between their minds, but thankfully they’re both snapped out of it by Kamala coming into the common area through the larger doors, Fury not far behind her. Wanda hops to her feet and starts the walk to the doors.

To Wanda’s deep surprise, she’s not the one who throws arms around someone first. That’s actually Tommy, and he’s moments ahead of his brother, meeting halfway, wrapping around their mother like he hasn’t seen her in weeks. (It’s only been five days, oddly enough. Wanda is struggling to process time here.)

“I missed you,” he mumbles into Wanda’s shoulder. Without meaning to, she laughs a little.

“It’s only been a few days, baby. But I missed you too.”

“You haven’t done so great without us either, though, have you?” Billy asks quietly, as he steps in and joins the embrace.

Wanda cranes her neck to look at him quizzically. “What gave it away?”

He smiles grimly, looking a little embarrassed. “I picked up on a lot of it. Until this afternoon, anyway. Not the worst, but when I’d reach out for you I felt like you were having a hard time. Then it all just kind of…stopped showing up? Like, I can still find you, but you’re not radiating your feelings.”

“Wards help,” Agatha jumps in dryly, coming up behind Wanda. “We had to implement mental wards today. Long story, but it’s relevant to why we’re here.” She gently, subtly rakes her fingers across Wanda’s back. I’m right here, darling. We’re here together. Stay with me. I’ve got you.

Wanda purses her lips, eyes casting down a little as she and the boys reluctantly separate. As the boys greet Agatha, Jeff wraps Wanda in a quick bear hug - he’s come to basically see her as a sibling, his words to Rebecca that Wanda had overheard in her mind, and something about that just feels so utterly insane but not in a terrible way. As he joins the boys and Agatha, Wanda is taken by the hand (and by surprise).

“You’re still not sleeping, are you?” Rebecca’s voice is soft, but ever so persistent, with nothing but care attached to her words. Wanda bites her lip, eyes now fully on her scuffed boots.

“What gave it away? Well, I haven’t really felt like putting on makeup for a couple of days, so I guess that doesn’t help,” she mutters, and Rebecca chuckles quietly before squeezing the younger woman’s hand with practiced care.

“You’re not eating much, either, Wanda.”

Wanda’s heart pounds in her ears, and she feels her face flush. How the hell does she know - that when Wanda’s grip on reality falters for more than a second, there’s a risk she forgets how to cope? “I’m eating enough. I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart, you’re safe right here. Do you believe that?” Rebecca is looking at her with such fondness and patience that it feels as if Wanda might start crying again. Thankfully, she’s spared.

“She’s had a rough week,” Agatha interjects quietly, but with some casualness, her arms coming to wrap around Wanda from behind. “Speaking of which, I’m glad you guys got here when there was still daylight. I think somebody has been needing to set aside a time to talk through all of this, haven’t you?”

Wanda breathes out an indignant huff as Agatha’s lips ghost across her cheek, but leans into the affection begrudgingly. “You know, Agatha, I can make my own appointments.”

“Luckily for both of you, I believe Agent Fury and I have already sorted that out,” Rebecca cuts in, and both witches fall silent. Rebecca’s calm, but Wanda laughs internally at the glee in the eye of her friend/coparent/therapist/insert other titles here. Rebecca is generally pretty laid back and quiet - hell, she’s a licensed therapist, it’s in her nature. But she does enjoy being able to make a room shut up and listen from time to time, and that’s probably why she and Agatha get along so well (or part of it). “I’m teleworking for the most part with my regular patients, but I’ve got an office up here that I’ll be in on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Open hours for the kids, the adults, whatever…except you.”

She gestures at Wanda, voice firm and leaving the redhead feeling meek, but not demeaned. “You, my friend, are with me for the lunch hour on Thursdays. Barring extenuating circumstances, of course, but if training is going as normal?” She pauses, waiting expectantly until Wanda nods.

“I’m in your office from noon to one on Thursdays,” she replies quietly, feeling the ghost of a half-smile threatening to turn her lips upward. “That takes a lot of memory and organization off of my workload, so I’m just going to say that I’m glad you and Fury figured it out.”

“Because I know you, and if left to your own devices, your ass won’t do it,” Fury calls as he directs a staff member on where the twins’ luggage needs to go. He flashes Wanda a smirk, which she replies to by sticking her tongue out before grinning. It’s childish, and she’s well aware, but Fury is almost another parental figure to her at this point, so surely it doesn’t matter.

Keep your tongue in your mouth, princess. I’ve got plans for that later. Agatha’s face doesn’t change, but her voice sounds sultry in the connection.

Wanda tries not to react, immediately casting yet another unspoken illusion over her cheeks. “Thanks for looking out, old man.”

“Speaking of,” Tommy chimes in. “When do we eat? I’m starving.” His stomach rumbles loudly, and Jeff raises an eyebrow, amusement etched into his features.

“Son, you were just eating the rest of the snacks from the road trip here,” he half-complains, though his eyes twinkle with mischief and so much love that Wanda smiles quietly to herself. These boys…they’ve done so well for themselves without me. I’m just happy they’re so loved.

They wouldn’t be who they are without you, Agatha cuts in, her tone sincere. You were their missing piece, my love. Even if they keep trying to insist I’m part of this shit.

Are you not? Wanda laughs back, and the two share a silent glance of understanding. I would have been lost without you. I would never have found my place, or them…and it’s only because of you that I did.

Nobody else does, but Wanda definitely catches the hitch in her lover’s breath. She’s not prepared for the rush of overwhelming love and fondness pouring into her mind in the next second, though. I’m going to remind you of this in a much more… hands-on sense when we get back to our room, Wanda.

“Aye! When you two are done being all cute and also kind of gross, pizza just showed up!” Billy calls playfully, pulling the two witches from the reverie they’d unintentionally worked into. Wanda can’t help it - she giggles, and Agatha chuckles next to her, the mood having lightened considerably.

It’s all fine and well and good.

Until it really isn’t, when Wanda looks down at her plate as everyone chats and laughs, and the family meets Carol and Kate and Clint. It’s not okay, at all, but she can’t let it show. She can’t be the center of anyone’s attention, not when her stomach is in knots after two halfhearted bites into her meal, because she’s reminded of why they’re here, and her anxiety is up because she’s fucking losing control again, she has to stop here, she needs to get away for a minute, she can’t fucking breathe-

“Hey, superstar. You good?”

The words are hushed, low enough that nobody else can hear them. Wait, maybe they aren’t real. She’s losing it again, she’s hallucinating and she’s going to fuck up and kill them all and not even get a chance to atone for her failures or love her boys long enough-

Wanda. Darling. Come back to me, please.

Yøü’łļ bě äľœñę âğãïñ, Ŵåńðâ…

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Ĩťß ŵħäț ÿøü çħøßě, ðǎřłïñğ

Ï ņêvéř ħäð â ćħøîćẽ…

“Where’s your room, Agatha? Let’s get her in there for now, she’s going to need a minute to work through what’s happening and the crowd isn’t going to help that.”

“I know you’d prefer not to, but can we just teleport?”

“Only if you keep a trash can near the couch just in case.”

She’s under water, she has to be, she can’t see, it’s hazy and too bright and the lenses of her eyes won’t fucking focus-

“Wanda. Can you hear me?”

It’s clearer now. There’s a very kind, friendly face in front of hers. Wanda tries to make a noise to the affirmative, even if it’s quiet.

“Breathe in.”

Her lungs fill with air, slowly. She waits.

“Breathe out.”

Her body caves a little as she exhales, and she blinks. Her vision is clear again. Rebecca sits in front of her, peering intently at her. Another blink tells Wanda they’re in hers and Agatha’s suite, Wanda is on the couch, and Rebecca has pulled up a chair in front of her to guide her through whatever the hell just happened.

On the small of her back, fingers delicately trace patterns, and she realizes Agatha is sitting beside her. Wait. Weren’t they just in the common area?

“Are you back?” Agatha murmurs beside her, and Wanda nods silently before the question burns in her mind.

“What happened?” She can barely manage to bring her voice above a whisper, and Rebecca sighs. It’s not one of exasperation, not anger, not disappointment, but Wanda has to fight the urge to recoil anyway.

“Well, the easiest explanation seems to be that you had a panic attack, which then spiraled into you completely dissociating for the last fifteen minutes. And Agatha says this is your third breakdown of the day?” Rebecca doesn’t sound harsh or condescending, but the revelation that comes with it has Wanda’s eyes glassy with unshed tears as she averts her gaze.

“It was only my second, actually - I think I just held it together long enough to socialize for a good ten minutes in the middle of one long one earlier.” She’s raspy as her voice rises in volume, and vaguely she can’t help but wonder if she screamed during whatever the hell just happened.

As if on cue, Agatha answers her unasked question. “No, honey, you didn’t scream out loud…but the way you were breathing, it would make sense if it feels like you did,” she adds as an afterthought, and Wanda sighs and twists her hands around, wringing them absentmindedly.

“It feels like we should start working on coping skills to prevent episodes like this,” Rebecca says, reaching out to tap quietly on Wanda’s knee, grounding her slightly. “It’s going to be difficult to navigate preparing for whatever is coming if your mind shuts down in fight or flight mode and you can’t bring yourself out of it. Do you know what set it off just now?”

She can’t, it isn’t that bad, she’s not ready to think about it-

“She gets stuck,” Agatha murmurs, “if that’s an appropriate way to phrase it, of course. She’s had a difficult time explaining what sets it off, but it’s affecting her ability to eat normally - which is obviously not good.”

Wanda wants to turn to her lover and tell her that she’s right here, she can speak up, and she’s fine, just give her a fucking minute-

“Wanda, if you can’t talk about it yet, I understand. But it’s going to have to come up. Take a few minutes and a few deep breaths. I’m going to ask Clint to keep a plate warm for you,” Rebecca says with her therapist voice…though it’s also been combined with her “mom voice,” and Wanda smiles weakly at her as a hand brushes the hair out of her face before the older woman stands. Rebecca nods over to Agatha. “Let me know if anything changes for the worse.”

After she’s left the room, Agatha’s free hand grips Wanda’s chin, gently obliging her to turn her head and meet the older witch’s piercing eyes. Not for the first time, the intensity of the gaze has Wanda’s stomach in knots - not necessarily in a negative sense, but it’s immensely difficult to hold the eye contact.

“Hey. Your thoughts are loud as hell, sweetheart. You have to eat. I know the anxiety and the control and the bullshit are piling up and telling you that you physically can’t take care of yourself, but you don’t deserve to tell yourself that or let any of the fucking voices say it to you. I’ll hex them. Every single one.”

Wanda feels the corner of her lip twitch, just a little, but tries to stifle it - just wanting to see where the hell this goes. Emboldened by the twitch (how the fuck does she always see that), Agatha doubles down, releasing her grip on Wanda’s chin and pushing their foreheads together.

“I will, hot stuff. I’m fucking serious. By the time I’m done with your consciousness, all you’ll be able to think about are being your ultra-powerful family woman self and having amazing sex with me, all the time.” Her voice deepens with the emphasis, her eyebrow wiggles just a bit, and Wanda’s carefully scheming exterior shatters. She feels her soul warm as she bursts out laughing.

Triumphant, Agatha smirks at her, but there’s so much love in her sharp, perfect features that Wanda could probably feel it in another universe. The smirk softens into a smile only Wanda generally gets to see. “There’s my beautiful girl.”

The eye contact, the affirmation, the constant flow of emotion, it’s too much. Wanda’s cheeks flare crimson and she can’t look at Agatha, she can’t, not when the fondness is so straightforward, it wasn’t this difficult when they used to banter-

“You’re so weird, Harkness.”

“If I were so weird, you wouldn’t think about our last names and how they sound hyphenated when you can’t quite fall asleep at night.” Agatha’s voice is smooth, sultry, and Wanda has to remind herself that biting the hand on her cheek probably isn’t wise as a form of retaliation. She instead chooses not to deny the accusation (it’s true, after all), and plays into it.

“I’m in my thirties, Agatha, of course I think about married names! Don’t you realize that the stupid Hallmark and Lifetime movies are geared towards my age group?”

Agatha still doesn’t crack. Bitch. Why is it so hot that she doesn’t break first? “Why Wanda, doll, I never took you as a marketing expert. You went from wanting a sitcom family in your twenties to wanting a Christmas tree farm and me in lumberjack drag in your thirties. The fuck is it going to be when you hit your third century passed?”

Wanda’s chance has come, and she has to strike (ignoring the mental picture of Agatha in flannel). It’s stupid, it’s random, but now she’s determined to make Agatha laugh. “That’s easy. By then, I’ll have moved on from human tropes, and we’ll live our decades by animal kingdom pairings.”

Agatha raises an eyebrow. She’s cracking. “What would we be at you turning three hundred?”

Wanda pauses, half-pondering, then smirks. “The way you’re constantly trying to get my clothes off? Rabbits.”

Agatha cackles, pulling her head back, but Wanda’s victorious grin is short-lived as the older woman leans in by her ear and conspiratorially murmurs, “I mean, have you seen yourself? I certainly wouldn’t fault myself for wanting to break you apart and put you back together on every surface in this suite…”

Wanda feels the air leave her lungs as her cheeks burn again. Her eyes drift to her lap as she pulls back slightly, a sheepish smile taking over her face. “Son of a bitch. You win…again.”

The hand on her cheek is joined by the other hand, and her face is lifted again. “I always do, cupcake. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look away. You’re too pretty when something…affects you.”

When Wanda looks up, Agatha’s eyes are so dark they’re nearly violet, and one hand begins trailing down Wanda’s cheek, touch possessive and somehow reverent all at once. She gulps, a heady blend of fear (but not the bad kind) and need passing through her at the expression. “We don’t have time,” she protests weakly. “They’re expecting us back out there. Rebecca’s not going to let me skip dinner.”

“As well she shouldn’t, you’re not eating enough to keep yourself going with all of this,” Agatha interjects firmly, breaking the tension with a different kind of tension. Wanda pulls her lower lip between her teeth, and Agatha’s eyes flare again. “Don’t make that face, darling, it’s terribly distracting. I told you it’ll be later, didn’t I?”

Wanda stammers for a moment, trying to catch her breath with as flustered as Agatha has rendered her. “Well…yes, but the way you were talking, I wasn’t certain whether you’d changed your tune.”

Paging two moms - you okay?

Billy’s psychic voice rings out into both of their minds, and Wanda’s heart warms and constricts all at once. He’s trying to sound cheerful, but she’s picking up on the concern in his tone much too easily.

We’re fine, honey. We’ll be out in a minute. I just needed a second, Wanda replies, clambering to her feet with a jolt of embarrassment. “I almost forgot about this!”

“But you feel better now,” Agatha confirms slowly, also standing and taking her hand. “And that’s what I was worried about. You’re allowed to go back now.”

Wanda scoffs, smirking. “Allowed? I don’t remember asking permission, Agatha. Quite dominant of you to assume I’d need it, don’t you think?”

She bites back a sharp gasp as Agatha spins her around by the waist and grips her chin. Her eyes are dark, and she’s smirking right back. “My love, you haven’t seen ‘dominant’ just yet, but say the word and we’ll talk about it. Maybe you’d actually take care of yourself and not worry me so damn much.” 

Wanda’s face is crimson again, and she can’t pull her lower lip away from her teeth, shifting her weight anxiously. Agatha sighs. Her gaze softens, and she leans in, pressing a firm kiss to Wanda’s forehead. “You’re stuck with me, but you don’t have to scare the shit out of me every other week. You’re interesting enough without that, princess.”

“I love you,” is all Wanda can manage, and Agatha smiles against her forehead.

“I know.”

Agatha doesn’t immediately say it back. She rarely does. Wanda is all too aware of how difficult the words are for the woman she loves, this is the easiest it’s ever been for her and that’s all Wanda asks.

Because Agatha shows it in other ways. Like the way she’s currently nuzzling Wanda’s shoulder as she pulls Wanda into her arms. And how she brought Wanda home, all those months ago, and rescued her sons and helped her start to heal.

And how she’s here now at all, even after Wanda tried to convince her, the kids, the coven to stay behind. But Agatha followed her, and she’s made it abundantly clear that she loves Wanda with every fiber of her strange, messy being. She doesn’t verbally express her love as frequently as Wanda does - because she doesn’t need to.

Agatha kisses her forehead one final time, then grins at her, though it’s soft and muted. “Ready to try again?” 

With a deep breath, Wanda musters up a short nod,  the pair crosses the room to the hallway door. Right as Wanda touches the handle, Agatha stops her. She’s gone still, and her eyes flare violet. “Hold on. Someone’s outside the door, and it’s not Rebecca…or Billy.”

Knock knock.

“We’re coming, who is it?” Wanda calls out warily, casting a glance to Agatha. It shouldn’t be anyone threatening, not at the campus, but if Agatha doesn’t immediately know who it is, she’s concerned.

As they stop at the door, a voice answers. And Wanda’s face lights up, she can feel it, and she swings the door open. Beside her, Agatha raises an eyebrow, then watches with amused interest as Wanda throws her arms around their guest.

Behind the woman stands Clint, who grins cheekily at Agatha. “I’m just now realizing you haven’t met my wife. This is Laura. Just making sure she found you two.”

Wanda hears her lover chuckle, but she can’t respond, not when the closest thing she’s had to a mother in two decades has her locked in possibly the best reunion hug she’s had to date. Wanda doesn’t think she’s crying, but she might be able to hear Laura sniffling. Maybe.

“We missed you so much, sweetheart. I’m sorry we didn’t come looking sooner,” Laura murmurs into her hair, and Wanda sighs and burrows in closer.

“Nobody else did either, though I’m not sure if that’ll make you feel better or worse? Either way…you’re here now.” Quickly, she pulls back and looks at Laura quizzically. “Wait, why are you on campus? You almost never set foot in the compound. Did Fury try to hire you with Nate being in school now?”

Laura laughs, bringing a hand up to stroke Wanda’s cheek, pushing auburn hair away from her eyes. “He did, actually, but I told him he’d have to make us Stark Industries level wealthy for me to even consider it. No, honey, I’m not here to work - the kids had an extra couple days out of school, wanted to come see Daddy. Normally we say no, too expensive, it’s fine, but Fury’s not hesitating on paying for family visits right now, I guess. Probably related to the quantity of kids under 18. Clint told me they’d found you, they were bringing you and your girl and some friends in, that you had kids now who were enhanced teenagers - how the hell did you end up with teenagers when it’s only been three and a half years?”

“It’s complicated,” Wanda and Agatha answer in unison, surprising each other and exchanging glances. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Laura, who beams at Agatha.

“I’m pretty sure I owe you a thanks with this introduction, Agatha. From what I’ve heard, you’re exactly what Wanda has needed…and I’m sorry we weren’t around to help.” Laura’s eyes have a shadow over them for a moment as she looks over at Wanda again. “I’ve always said you deserved better, but I’m sorry we ended up being part of the problem.”

“It was a weird time,” Wanda replies quietly, looking down and scuffing the toe of her combat boot on the floor. It taps the floor just a little too hard to look casual, and she curses inwardly. “We were gone, but then we weren’t, but then Stark did what he did and we were simultaneously grieving and cheering. Well, that was everyone else’s experience, anyway.”

Laura purses her lips, eyebrows scrunching together a little, and tilts her head. “What do you mean, honey?”

Wanda feels her face contort for a moment, it’s almost too much, but she’s needed to say it. “I didn’t have much to celebrate at that point. I’ve only just really started to admit this, but I wasn’t planning on surviving beyond Stark’s funeral. But my magic had other ideas…which didn’t help, it just made for a weird sequence of events. I’m still genuinely shocked I’m standing here and not in the Raft again. Or dead, though that’s not for lack of trying.”

She dares a glance up, but her heart clenches at the tears in Laura’s eyes and she immediately regrets it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that so harshly-”

“Sweet girl.” Laura cuts her off, cupping her face again and wiping a few tears Wanda didn’t notice shedding. “I needed the honesty. We’ve got a lot of making up to do, don’t we?”

Wanda allows herself to give a wry smile, finally making full eye contact. “The hug was a good start.”

Chapter Text

An hour or two later, a good portion of the growing team is seated around the common area tables, playing games and chatting. At a table with Kamala and America, as well as Lila and Cooper Barton, Billy and Tommy appear to be playing Cards Against Humanity (how the teens managed to sneak one of the less-family-friendly games out of the cabinet without Carol or Fury catching them, it’s not Wanda’s place to know) and quietly shaking with laughter. At another table, Carol, Kate, Riri, Fury himself, Agatha, the coven, and Clint are somehow all fitting around the table together and laughing, talking, and getting a feel for their dynamic. The Kaplans had left about ten minutes ago, and everyone was starting to settle in for the night.

But Wanda? Not Wanda. She isn’t entirely sure she can handle it. She’s busying herself in the kitchen, loading a few dishes into the dishwasher as she puts away the leftover pizza. She’s watching, though, and smiling. She almost misses Laura approaching her.

“So. You and Agatha.” Laura’s voice is soft, the faintest hint of a mischievous grin on her features. The statement, though innocent, have Wanda’s eyes turning back to the groups at the tables. 

“Yeah. Something like that,” she replies, a little smile gracing her features as Laura joins her to help. She doesn’t elaborate, but she can tell Laura is going to continue.

“She’s definitely very different,” Laura remarks quietly, handing Wanda a plate from the sink. “Clint still can’t get over it, how we got to this point, how you’ve come so far and it’s just good to see. He’s been beating himself up over it - not being there, I mean.”

A flash of irritation jolts Wanda in the chest, because she’s sick of hearing this lately, but she tries to ignore it. “It’s fine. I got through it.” She tries to keep her voice calm, easy, but realizes she has a little too much of an edge when Laura’s eyebrows crease for a moment. “I’m only here because of Agatha coming to find me, once I pulled down the mountain. Although, if I could have found a way to give up this, that wouldn’t have been an issue either.” She wiggles her fingers, watching a single strand of red energy weaving between them, and tries not to look at Laura’s face.

“It’s okay to admit it if you’re still angry with people…with us, Wanda. You have every right to be.”

“And people have every right to want me burned alive for my various war crimes, yet everyone keeps telling me I’m not a horrible person,” Wanda snarks in response, placing a glass a little too forcefully in the dishwasher. “It’s pointless to think about it. Everyone had their own shit going on. Why shouldn’t I have had some healthy way to handle it on my own?”

Laura sighs heavily, and tilts her head. “Sweet girl, I want to fix it. I can’t take it back, but I want to make it right somehow. What can I do?“

Wanda stills her body and inhales deeply through her nostrils. She’s trying not to lash out, she’s trying so hard to just keep the peace-

“Laura, I just need everyone to stop talking about it. Stop bringing it up, stop apologizing, just stop. If you don’t apologize, if we pretend it’s all the same and we just went on vacation or something, then I can convince myself that I was never abandoned - that it was never real.” She braces her hands on the counter, taking another shaky breath. “If it was never real, it doesn’t have to hurt so much, I can make this peaceful like nothing ever happened, I don’t have this festering resentment blended with self-hatred for everything I have ever done in my life, and I don’t have to consider or half heartedly forgive people because there’s nothing to forgive.”

Wanda turns, drying her hands on a towel. “At least this way, anger and resentment are two emotions I’m not having to carry around while I wait for people to inevitably leave my life again. Because that’s all it ever is. All I do is wait for people to walk away.” She blinks, hard, shoving back tears, and is genuinely shocked nobody from the tables has noticed this conversation. “Things really started to get better. I felt something that wasn’t dark and petrifying for a good while. I felt like I had done some atonement, I could live in peace, I could have my family and finally not want to stop living. And now everything has changed again. And I have to fight, and I never wanted to in the first place, but I felt like I had to pay penance somehow for being the twin that survived, the worthless weird one that everyone hated, suddenly completely alone. So I fought, I hoped I meant something. I hoped that maybe it would be enough. But it never is…is it? There’s never a real ending point where everything is just calm and safe.”

Her eyes are blurry, and she’s trying not to look at anyone as she sets the towel down, nodding to Laura. “I’m sorry for this. I just don’t see the point. If Agatha asks, I’ll be in our room, the boys are welcome to come by if they need anything. I’m exhausted, and I really can’t handle this conversation right now. I’ve already said more than I need to. Goodnight, Laura.”

She doesn’t let Laura respond, snapping her fingers and teleporting to the room, where she lands gently on the bed and immediately pulls her knees to her chest, curling into them. She’s not feeling the urge to cry, much to her surprise - but the spiral might be worse now.

Wanda is, in short, completely exhausted, in every sense of the word. Logically, she knows she ought to take a step back, try any of the methods Bex has given her to calm down and just let it pass, but she physically can’t, and she doesn’t want to.

Quite frankly, for the first time in months, she longs to go back to a time where it would have made sense to do so and just will herself out of existence, or better yet, jump in front of her brother and take the hit herself. He was always the sibling everyone liked, including her. She could have saved everyone so much trouble if she had been the one to die… before she completed the fucking prophecy forging.

But it’s too late for all of that, now, isn’t it?

A drink. She’d really like a fucking drink right now. Cracking her neck, she twirls her fingers, and there’s a bottle of vodka clutched in her hand. She pops it open and takes a massive swig, relishing and despising the burn in her throat all at once.

Bex is going to be so pissed at me if she finds out I’m not trying hard enough to work through this.

But would she, really? Rebecca has never shown her anything but patience - in both clinical and personal settings. Rebecca has always treated Wanda like she’s always belonged in the family, hasn’t judged her for even the few worse confessions Wanda had made. Rebecca has always left the door open for Wanda, has collaborated with her and Agatha on parenting choices, has loved this messy coven of chaos from the beginning.

Then again, Wanda’s emotions are spiraling so rapidly these days that she isn’t sure she cares tonight.

Another drink. That will slow it down. For now, anyway. She takes another sip, sets the bottle on the nightstand, and reclines slightly, leaning her head against the wall. Flicking her finger, the little record player she’d refused to part with drops the needle and begins to spin.

She listens in silence for a while, taking sips from the bottle and trying to clear her mind. She’s not sure how much time has passed, but she’s made it through several songs. And the one currently playing hits too close to home, but Wanda is reluctant to do anything about that.

“They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential / And my words shoot to kill when I’m mad; I have a lot of regrets about that / I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere / Fell behind all my classmates, and I ended up here / Pouring out my heart to a stranger, but I didn’t pour the whiskey / And I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying…”

She is trying, she really is, it’s just so fucking difficult and-

Wanda, where are you?

Agatha’s voice persists in her mind, and Wanda flinches. How does she do this? How does she just know?

Without a second thought, Wanda tightens the wards, pulling walls up around her mind. She’s going to have hell to pay for this when Agatha does, eventually, come to bed. But she doesn’t want to talk about it right now. She doesn’t want to speak at all, quite frankly.

But she knows it’s coming. Because at the core of every problem, every good thing, and every solution, and everything in between, Agatha loves her. Agatha refuses to give up on her, in spite of everything she has done and is now. And has been lately.

“Hi.”

That’s unexpected; not the quickness of it, so to speak - but the fact that Agatha isn’t angry. Or if she is, she isn’t showing it. Agatha is earnest, gingerly sitting in the bed beside Wanda, gently nudging her shoulder. Agatha is looking at her as if she’s someone worth loving, worth being worried about. It’s too much. Until Agatha continues.

“What is it, angel?”

It might be the alcohol, but Wanda’s voice breaks as she takes a shuddering breath and forces words out. She turns to look into the eyes that have seen her shadows and loved her, not despite, but regardless. Her lip quivers, and she curses herself mentally, but she can only think of one thing.

“I want to go home.”

It’s not a whine, it’s not petulant, but Wanda knows it’s childish. It’s more than a little embarrassing, to be falling apart like this yet again today, even without tears or panic, so she curls into herself, hugging her knees and burying her face in the empty space between her knees and chest. She doesn’t stay that way for long, not after Agatha’s next words - soft, empathetic, heartbroken without tears.

“I know, honey. I know.” 

Wanda is maneuvered out of her defensive position and laid down, then adjusted to mold against Agatha’s strong form. Long fingers card through her hair, grazing the skin on the back of her neck with light fingertips. Wanda wants to resist, wants to pull away and push Agatha away and continue to spiral in her own mind because she’s so, so worn down…but she also doesn’t have it in her to fight back. So she acquiesces, curling into Agatha’s front and burying her face in the older witch’s shoulder.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Her voice is small, infinitely so to her own ears, but Agatha hears her. She always does.

“I know, Wanda.”

“I want to go home. But we can’t.”

“No,” Agatha agrees sadly, one hand sliding down to Wanda’s lower back and pulling them closer together. “We can’t. They need us. They need you. Without us, there won’t be home…for us and a lot of others, not just here.”

“I know.” This time, it’s Wanda who acknowledges, barely above a whisper. “I know we have to do this. I just wish we didn’t. But this isn’t something I can just will out of existence safely.” She pulls her head up, daring to make eye contact. “Why does it have to be me? Why us? Why did I have to be the one to fulfill this fucking destiny thing? It could have been literally anybody else - instead it’s me. I wasn’t the best pick for this. Whoever’s pulling the strings is fucking stupid. I can barely keep myself from drowning, how am I supposed to protect and save the people I love and the reality we inhabit when I don’t even want to be alive some days still?” She’s crying now, just a little bit, but she’s stopped caring today.

Agatha’s eyes close, not with exasperation, but as if composing herself to speak. When she opens them, the usually grayish tint to her blue has vanished, leaving oceans in its wake. “My love, I wholeheartedly believe it’s exactly that. You didn’t want this…and the lack of desire for it made you the most fitting candidate. You never wanted infinite power, conquest, dominion, you never wanted to rule anything or reign over anyone…” She sighs, eyes closing again for a moment before the hand in Wanda’s hair moves to cup her cheek. “You just wanted to be home, and have a family, and peace. Your resistance towards power being dangled is likely what told the cosmos that you were it. You’re less likely to abuse that infinite power than most witches, and that was probably what deemed you worthy of completing the forging.”

“It’s bullshit, that’s what it is,” Wanda mutters, and Agatha’s nostrils flare as she breathes out a single laugh before leaning in, pressing their foreheads together.

“It is, but magical megalomania isn’t good for the universe. Ours or anyone else’s. You’re the last person I know who would want to rule over anyone.” She pauses before grinning impishly and adding, “If anyone in this has a thing for power-”

“It’s definitely you,” Wanda interjects dryly, her tears almost completely gone. Agatha’s eyes shine with mischief.

“You’re damn right, it’s me. Speaking of power, since I seem to have brought you out of the shitshow you were trying to hide from me…” Her voice drops, low and sultry, and she’s propping herself up on her elbow, repositioning to partially lay on top of Wanda, who lets out a little oof of surprise before giggling. Agatha’s eyes are darkening, and her free hand is trailing down the side of Wanda’s neck with a possessive yet reverent touch. “I believe I promised you something this evening.”

Wanda’s lip is sucked between her own teeth for a moment, with just a dare of a smile creasing the corners of her eyes. Agatha’s breath catches, eyes zeroed in on the bitten lip, and the redhead smiles wider. “I believe you did.”

Agatha smirks, lowering herself to Wanda’s neck. Her breath ghosts her ear, and Wanda shivers at the sensation. “Is that still something you want, darling?”

Wanda whispers her confirmation, just before she lets out a gasp as teeth gently sink into the side of her neck, and a hand teases its way to her chest. Her plight is momentarily forgotten - she’s exhausted, she can’t pull her head together, and she just wants to give in and drown in the woman above her.

And so she does, and by the way Agatha is touching her…it’s looking to be a long night.

Wanda can’t say she minds.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Agatha is much, much slower than Wanda anticipated. Logically, she shouldn’t be shocked - she loves just how intense it all is, with a lover who hates being rushed. Agatha can be so impatient in day to day life, almost as if she saves her ability to hold back for when she’s got Wanda panting and trembling underneath her.

But Wanda is still surprised at how leisurely the pace is, so far. She writhes a little, in vain; after discussing the traffic light system, Agatha had swept in to press Wanda to the mattress, fingers locked around wrists. With a mental incantation, thin lines of glowing purple were pinning the redhead’s arms to the bed, and their clothes completely vanished.

Agatha seems quite pleased over Wanda’s reaction, feeling the younger witch’s mind haze as she gasps at the sensation of being deliciously caught. Agatha has taken to nipping, licking and sucking her way down the side of Wanda’s neck, teeth scraping gently across her clavicle, but not with the insatiable aggression Agatha has shown a handful of times. This is…different. Sensual, distracting, overwhelming, and Wanda’s body is buzzing, craving more, it feels like she’s on fire and she can’t escape it.

The graze of fingernails down her side has her back arching into Agatha, breathless and drawing herself off the mattress. Agatha smirks, and for a moment, Wanda is clear-headed, but panting. “I thought you were trying to break a record.”

Agatha lifts herself away from Wanda’s ribs and watches her, eyes dark but sparkling. “I didn’t say they’d all have to be me fucking you, now did I?”

She immediately smirks as she feels Wanda’s mind haze over again, and the redhead can’t even form a response. She’s overwhelmed by being trapped, being touched, and every nerve ending feels like it’s sparking. She thinks she can fight the impending orgasm until Agatha actually gets to where Wanda would like her to be. She knows she shouldn’t resist it, but she’s still feeling a touch more stubborn than usual given her last few days.

“Stop thinking about it and just let yourself have this, you adorable fucking idiot,” Agatha growls at her. Despite the haze, Wanda giggles, immediately followed by a gasp and low moan at the sensation of teeth on a breast. She strains at the purple cuffs of energy around her wrists, arching into the sensation and trying to press her thighs closer together, fighting it off just a little longer.

Agatha’s teeth gently graze her nipple, just as the older witch pushes Wanda’s knees apart and positions her own knees in between them, pressing just slightly to Wanda’s core.

For the first time this evening, Wanda stops trying to resist, and her legs tremble as her body threatens to clench down. Agatha, never one to be oblivious, chooses this exact moment to take that same nipple between her lips to lick and suck, as her hand grazes the plane of Wanda’s stomach with the threat of nails. One knee pushes just slightly further between Wanda’s thighs, and the overwhelming sensations are enough that the coil snaps and she’s coming. Vaguely, she hears Agatha hum in approval as Wanda lets out a low moan and shudders. It’s quick, it’s dirty, it’s nearly humiliating, and it definitely isn’t going to be the last one.

“There’s my good girl,” the older witch murmurs a moment later, as Wanda comes down, and somehow those fucking words are enough to send Wanda’s mind spinning again. She lets out a high, desperate whine and ruts her hips futilely where they’re trapped.

“Please,” she begs, barely above a breathless whimper, and Agatha pulls back to look at her, eyes dark.

“So pretty when you’re so needy, princess. We’ve only just started, don’t worry.” Her voice is hoarse, low and raspy…not unlike how she sounded on the plane, and it completely erases all coherent thought in Wanda’s mind.

When there are fingers grazing her core, the other hand still cupping her chest, Wanda stops feeling any sensitivity from moments ago, and her hands flex at the restraints. Agatha smirks, her own lip just barely between her teeth as she relishes the reaction. How easy it is to have the Scarlet Witch melt into putty in her hands, and to be fair, how this woman beneath her can bite her lip and smile and crook her finger and Agatha is…utterly fucked. She couldn’t resist the younger witch if she tried; her body refuses, and something about Wanda just awakens a desire to keep her close, not let her heavy emotions consume her in the ways they have so many times.

But by the end, Agatha has calmed the storm, soothed the rage that threatens to burst from Wanda’s own chest with her power. It can’t, obviously, be a permanent end-all be-all; there’s therapy involved, and Rebecca has recently begun to suggest psychiatric care for the anxiety, and while that brings about panicked flashbacks for Wanda, visions of straitjacket suits and shock collars at the Raft and being chained to metal beds at HYDRA, Agatha is slowly warming to the idea. There would be no chains this time. But Agatha, in this moment, tames the lion the witch threatens to become, and shows her it’s acceptable to feel something without it being shameful or turning it into destruction. Wanda is safe, even just for now, and that’s not always enough, but right now it is everything and more.

“Agatha, please,” Wanda says in a sort of broken whine, and Agatha extricates herself from the reverie she’d gone into while lavishing the younger witch’s neck with attention again. Her fingers haven’t moved beyond soft exploration of folds, no real pressure anywhere, and a quick glance into Wanda’s mind shows she’s zeroed in on the moment, on the sensations, on her primal desire to feel and reciprocate and receive praise, all traces of distress are temporarily gone - Agatha has succeeded in her quest, but she isn’t finished by a long shot.

“Please what, sweetheart?” She croons, nipping the shell of Wanda’s ear and smirking. Wanda moans helplessly and cants her hips, but fails, pinned down by Agatha’s legs. “Use your words, angel.” It’s maybe a little cruel, making the woman put together a coherent thought when her entire body is buzzing and her mind isn’t sharp, but the submission is the point and they both know it.

“Please touch me,” Wanda can barely get the sentence out, but she does. Agatha presses one hot open-mouthed kiss to the space just below Wanda’s ear and hums, intentionally adding to the overstimulation.

“I am touching you, princess,” she murmurs against her lover’s neck, grinning wickedly at the shiver she gets in response. Wanda lets out a frustrated little groan, but Agatha tuts. “I’ve been touching you this entire time.”

Between breaths, Wanda finally gets it together. She’s never been great with reciprocating any kind of dirty talk, and Agatha is fully prepared to accommodate if she’s not ready to try. But the deep breath and quiet, low “fuck me, please,” are a perfect start.

“Good girl, that’s not so bad, is it?” Agatha pulls back and grins at her again, wolfishly. “I think it’s time for a little reward, don’t you?”

Wanda intends to answer, she really does (in spite of the violet-tinted haze her mind has wandered into), but Agatha’s already gone, littering slow and dirty kisses down the slope of her neck, her chest, her ribs. When she reaches Wanda’s navel, fingers still ghosting her core but not doing anything, the redhead’s hands flex in the restraints again.

“Patience, darling,” the older witch murmurs against her stomach, continuing down. “After this next one, I might have a surprise for you that I’d like to try.”

Wanda doesn’t get the chance to clear her mind and throw a snarky response back. There are two long fingers pressing inside of her, pushing in with agonizing slowness, and a mouth wrapped around her clit, and Wanda’s mind goes completely blank. She forgets how to speak, how to ask for more or less or anything in between, and all she can focus on is the physical sensations and Agatha. All she can do is pant and whine and arch as best she can towards the feelings.

Agatha continues the slow in-out rhythm with her fingers, tantalizing in nature, as her tongue works the bundle of nerves it’s found. Wanda barely notices the third finger being added, she’s soaked enough that it’d be embarrassing if she had the thought to be embarrassed. But she does notice the three fingers curling forward experimentally, hitting a spot that makes her tense up and gasp.

“P-please, can I?” She manages, daring to lift her head and look down at her body. She meets piercing blue eyes, right as Agatha sucks her clit back into her mouth and traces the underside with her tongue. 

Come on, pretty girl, let go, Agatha’s voice whispers into her mind.

Moments later, Wanda isn’t sure if that orgasm was singular or if she had two back-to-back, but she doesn’t care because it was worth it. Her pleasure feels sharpened, all-consuming, and she doesn’t feel sensitive anymore. Her mind is also clear enough to manage speech. “What…what did you say about a surprise?”

Agatha, having just removed her tongue and fingers from Wanda’s still-dripping core and licked her fingers clean, climbs up the bed until she’s towering over her pinned lover with a cheesy little smirk and shiny wet lips. “Magic tricks, if you want to put it that way.” She mutters an incantation or two, still not breaking eye contact. One hand is working somewhere between them, the familiar hum of magic sounding faintly, and one is holding one of Wanda’s pinned wrists. “If you promise to be good for me, I’ll take you out of the bindings for the rest of this.”

Wanda tilts her head, a slow smile lighting up her face. “I promise I’ll be good.” She has zero idea what she’s just agreed to, but judging by the look in Agatha’s blown-out eyes, she’s going to enjoy it.

The older witch leans down, her dark hair curtaining them both as she whispers, “Remember, darling, yellow if you need me to slow down or pull back, red if it’s too much.”

The magic around Wanda’s wrists dissipates, and she immediately wraps her arms around Agatha’s shoulders and draws her in for a kiss. Shockingly, Agatha complies with the request to be pulled closer before Wanda has actually asked. Then her hips press against Wanda’s deliberately, and she feels it.

Oh. That’s…definitely a very realistic feeling strap. That’s new.

Agatha pulls away to look at Wanda’s face, grinning. “You like? I haven’t got to use this yet. If you’re not down with it, I can vanish it, but it…may or may be enchanted?” She wrinkles her nose, feigning modest sheepishness as Wanda giggles. Then realization hits, and she gasps, arousal flooding her again.

“So…you can feel it?” She quietly reaches a hand down and finds the silicone, teasing it with her fingers.

Agatha’s breath hitches, and she brings her face down to be an inch from Wanda’s. Her voice is low, silky, and it makes Wanda shiver. “Every little bit.”

Wanda grins back, lifting her head for a kiss. “Then why aren’t we already going?”

“Smartass,” Agatha says with an eye roll, but she obliges, meeting Wanda’s lips with hers as she readjusts them both. The tip of the strap breaches her entrance, and Wanda whimpers into the kiss, not caring how she sounds. Her mind starts to haze again, and she curses silently over not being able to beg Agatha to start moving.  

The sound is, apparently, encouraging enough, and the toy pushes fully inside. The sudden fullness has them both moaning, and Wanda vaguely has the gleeful realization that Agatha really can feel everything. She grins into the kiss, wrapping her legs around Agatha’s waist and pulling her in closer, loving the shuddering groan from the older witch above her.

“Fuck, you are so tight,” Agatha pants, breaking the kiss to move her lips along Wanda’s jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you, pretty girl.”

“Please move,” Wanda breathes. “You won’t hurt me. I want to make you feel good too.”

Agatha exhales, nods, then nuzzles into her neck, slowly pulling out just to the tip before pushing back in and starting a consistent rhythm.

Wanda loses track of time once the movement starts. It could be minutes, hours, days that they’re wrapped up in each other, and the sensations are heightened. She can’t even keep track of her own orgasms because she can’t hold them back - not that she wants to, or needs to - and given the lack of refractory period with the enchantment, Agatha is having her own fun. 

But the final time - whenever the fuck it is - is different. Because Wanda has a very specific want right now, and she knows Agatha likely can’t do it herself, so while she comes to grips with that, her chaos magic does what it does best: whatever the hell it wants.

“Think we can get one more together?” Agatha murmurs in her ear, pulling her closer around her middle. They’ve readjusted again, Agatha now seated against the headboard with Wanda in her lap, and they’re meeting halfway with riding and thrusting.

The redhead grins mischievously. “Absolutely.”

Agatha’s hand snakes between them, finds Wanda’s clit again, and rubs tight circles into it as Wanda clenches down on the strap and rocks, chasing the last high for the night. Agatha thrusts up just a bit, sending the redhead keening against her shoulder.

Suddenly, the older witch shudders, thrusting up again. “Baby…did you…add to the spell?”

All Wanda can manage is a high-pitched, breathy “maybe,” and Agatha chuckles desperately and continues to meet Wanda’s almost frantic rocking with tight thrusts.

“Just making sure. Let go for me.”

Just before Wanda crashes her lips into Agatha’s, she murmurs, “Only if you do too.”

Agatha tenses and shudders again as the wave crests and crashes down for them both. The warmth filling Wanda’s lower half tells her that her addition worked perfectly, and she shivers hard as the climax draws itself out, her whole body feeling like it’s on fire.

When they’ve both come down, as Agatha goes to retrieve a washcloth, Wanda rolls over to squint at her phone on the nightstand.

12:01 AM.

“Son of a bitch,” she mutters, then startles at Agatha’s laugh from the bathroom. “What?”

“Told you I wasn’t stopping until midnight, didn’t I, toots?” The older witch responds cheerfully, reappearing to gently clean them both with the warm, wet cloth. 

Wanda playfully swats her arm, though in her fatigue it’s a weak effort. “Don’t sound so smug about it, did you even keep count?”

As she yawns and lays her head back, settling into the pillows, Agatha makes her way up to her spot in the bed and pulls Wanda close to her, smiling serenely against the side of her head.

“Twelve, unless you count the one that might have been a double as a double. Then it’s thirteen.”

“I’ll take thirteen as a reasonable number,” Wanda mumbles, curling into Agatha’s side. 

The latter kisses Wanda’s temple, pulling the blankets over them both and flicking her wrist to turn out any remaining lights. “You’re ridiculous, but I’m taking that as a compliment. Let’s get some sleep.”

“I want auroras and sad prose / I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet, ‘cause I haven’t moved in years, and I want you right here…” 

Agatha emerges from the shower, greeted by Wanda’s soft voice, and something in her feels… warm. It’s a feeling, she realizes, that she’s only really known how to feel when she actually loves someone.

Wanda’s singing again. 

Just a bit, along with her little record player, likely as she’s pulling her damp, freshly-showered hair back and tidying up the room out of habit. It feels like it’s been forever since she heard her little witch’s sweet voice lost in song at this hour of the day. A soft grin threatens the corners of her mouth, and she’s apt to let it come out in spite of the hour.

While she never has enjoyed early mornings, she can always appreciate Wanda’s peaceful moments.

Instead of toweling off, Agatha snaps her fingers, and she’d dry and dressed. She opens the bathroom door, letting herself softly harmonize with the woman she still can’t wrap her head around being so insanely in love with.

“Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die / I don’t belong, and my beloved, neither do you / those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry / I’m setting off, but not without my muse; no, not without you…”

Wanda doesn’t turn around, not until the song fades. Her face is lit up in that fucking smile, the one that constantly encourages Agatha to momentarily forget her own doubts in life, and she looks…better. Better than she’s looked in a good while. She crosses the room and stands in front of the older witch, eyes gleaming. “Good morning. I hope I didn’t interrupt your shower.”

Agatha huffs, catching the younger witch around the waist and grinning down at her. “I couldn’t miss the encore, doll. You seem…a bit better this morning. You know, I said orgasms helped, but I didn’t expect a 180. Even for thirteen.”

Wanda chuckles, arms reaching up to wrap around Agatha’s shoulders as she leans in to lay her head against the older witch. “While that was very nice, I think…it’s not all better, and I know that. But I think I needed to step back and just connect again, in a manner of speaking. We haven’t really gotten a lot of time to ourselves lately, you know?”

She has a point, and it makes sense to Agatha now. She tightens her grip on the redhead’s waist, bringing a hand up to soothingly card through her hair. “And we were together constantly before. So it’s been a shock to the system. I know, honey. I’m right here.”

“I’d never want anyone else where you are now,” Wanda murmurs, turning and burying her face in Agatha’s neck. “I could never do this without you.”

“I mean…you could. You have before.”

Wanda pulls away, just slightly, to lock her bright green eyes on Agatha’s face. “Yes, but my mental stability was a lot worse then. It’s still not…great, but you have been the catalyst for all of the progress you guys are supposedly seeing. Besides…” her voice drops, and the grin lighting her features is full of mischief, “…if you’re always where I can feel you, I know you’re not up to no good.”

Fighting back a laugh, Agatha gasps in mock outrage. “Par- don? Moi, up to no good? Never!”

The laugh Wanda lets out makes the dramatics worth their while. “Yes, you’re such an angel. I guess we should head out to breakfast now, though, shouldn’t we?”

Agatha sighs. Loathe as she is to watch her pretty little beloved have to do all of this, she knows Wanda is trying, and it’s enough. “Unfortunately, you’re right. Let’s go.”

Before they reach the common area, they’re met in the hallway by two very bleary-eyed teenage boys. Billy is trying in vain to force his hair to cooperate, and Tommy looks like he’d rather be back in bed than going to breakfast. Agatha just stops and smirks.

“Morning, boys,” she calls, and Tommy groans.

“It’s too early,” he complains back, and Wanda chuckles as she reaches him and ruffles his hair.

“I take it you guys were up a little later than you should have been, hmm?” She’s teasing, and they know it, but Tommy pouts at her.

“It’s not my fault Fury had to threaten to call Mrs. Khan to get Kamala to release all of us hostages so we could sleep,” he grouses. “He was already pretty annoyed with Cooper and America for sneaking the raunchier games out of the cabinet without asking, so when we all couldn’t keep it together he told us to ‘get our asses to bed before he called Munjeeba and made Kamala wish she had opted to live off-campus.’”

Wanda laughs hard this time, Agatha also snickering, and Billy grins wryly too. “It was actually hilarious. I didn’t think Kamala could be as serious as she was right then.” He moves over to hug Wanda, pulling his mother tight against his chest. “Are you okay this morning?”

She sighs, smiling as she squeezes back. “Better, at least. I’ll be okay, honey. You’re not supposed to worry about me like this.”

“Can’t blame him, though, can you?” Agatha mutters beside them, but reaches out to squeeze Wanda’s shoulder as the two break apart. The group says little else, walking to the common area together.

Wanda’s not completely sure what the week brings, and her nerves threaten to flare, until Agatha grips her hand and sends a pulse of soothing energy into her little witch’s mind.

We’re together, sweetheart. We’ll be okay.

And Wanda believes it, at least for now.

(But the static at the edges of her mind lingers.)

Ï’m ŵâĩțīñġ, ẞçäřļëť Ŵîțçħ…

Ÿøú ŵîłł ňëvęř øũťřüñ ŷøűř fäťë.

Chapter Text

It’s been a few hours since breakfast, the kids have all been outside for about twenty minutes, and Agatha looks exasperated as all hell at what Fury just asked her to do.

(Fury hadn’t known until a few days ago that Agatha has decades of traditional education experience. He is now using that to his advantage, and he just asked her if she’d handle the teens’ remaining education with pay - done completely online, save for hands-on needs, but she would be needed for explanation and supervision. The problem is, Agatha despised gainful employment. Wanda’s well aware that her lover is a spiteful little thing, and would do everything with a middle finger to the system if she could get away with it.)

Wanda is failing to hide her amusement. Instead, she chooses to walk to the bay window by the tables, watching the teenagers (and Kate and Riri, because despite their proclamations of being “whole ass adults” in their early twenties, their claim that they’d just be “supervising” the teens fooled absolutely no one) goofing around on the playground. She’s trying not to laugh at the antics outside, but also Agatha’s irritation. She knows the older witch genuinely loves the boys, has warmed up to Kate, and is coming around to everyone else.

“I’m an old woman, Fury, I don’t have the patience to educate children anymore!”

Fury scoffs, his little devious smirk coming into play. “Harkness, we’ve been here a week and I’ve heard you lecture your stepsons a total of six times, and it worked every single time. You’re still an educator, and a damn good one.”

This time, Wanda does turn around, but only after a rather embarrassing coughing fit. She’d been in the middle of a reflexive swallow when Fury had said “stepsons,” and…the rest is self-explanatory. Agatha still looks like she wants to argue with the man, but Fury’s concentration is shot and he’s regarding Wanda with mild concern. “You good, Maximoff?”

“Not - stepsons - yet,” she forces out, between coughs, until she randomly stops, completely fine. That’s…odd. She shoots a suspicious glare to her lover, who looks decidedly nonplussed. “I’m sorry, did you just fucking cast something to make me stop coughing?”

Fury noticeably bites back a laugh, and Agatha raises an eyebrow. Her words are emphatic and slow. “You distracted him, and I wasn’t done with him yet. I despise being gainfully employed, my love; I forged most of that social work paperwork because, while I’ve taken the entirety of a doctorate in the subject, as well as some psychology, I never bothered to attempt the actual degree. Education is terribly convoluted when you’re this old, darling. People start to ask questions you don’t care to answer. I only did the social work documents to get Tommy to us. I have my means of production, why would I contribute to the fucking system that’s just going to exploit the mortals who can’t fight back?”

Wanda’s lips have curled into a soft smile as Agatha’s been speaking, and as the older witch finishes her rant, Agatha looks rather petulant. “Darling, why the fuck are you smiling at me like that.”

“Mmmm,” hums Wanda as she carefully walks over to the older witch, scrunching her nose. “I just think you’re looking at this offer the wrong way, that’s all. I love that you would do anything to dismantle the system, that’s one of my favorite things about you, but…you’re not contributing to the system by teaching these kids, or even by supervising their education.”

Agatha is still trying to play tough, Wanda can see it, but her words are working, so she doesn’t stop. “This isn’t normal gainful employment, my love. None of these kids are normal. Nobody in this building is the average person, as hard as I’ve tried to be. You’re not contributing to the bullshit. We’re going to protect the people the system harms, but we need these kids to know what the hell they’re doing. Coming in without finishing high school - or college for some of them - is going to set them at a disadvantage, all enhancements and magic aside. We can’t protect the vulnerable if we aren’t totally prepared, and you said you would help in whatever way you could figure out. Don’t deny that, we literally had that conversation yesterday.”

Besides, we can totally take the ‘Hot For Teacher’ route. Endless roleplay scenes running through my brain when your glasses are on and you’re explaining something to the kids or doing magic shit. Constant oasis of horny hell in my mind while we deal with this nightmare.

For the first time ever, Agatha’s face gives an indication of their psychic conversation, as she briefly fights a smirk. I hate you.

Wait, really? Deep down, Wanda knows it’s not true, but she still has her days of doubt…especially lately.

Agatha sighs into the link. No, pet.

Wanda tries to keep her psychic voice down. Okay, I’m sorry to freak out, but -

“Jesus, do I need to leave so you two can continue whatever conversation you’re having out loud?”

Both witches turn to Fury in shock, then break into laughter. Finally, Agatha swipes at her eye and grins wolfishly at Fury. “It’s fine, she’s persuasive as hell. I’ll do it, but I’ll need the coven’s help. I don’t know what else to do with them, and I’d rather they not slack off, Jen can get really lazy if you don’t give her a bunch of tasks.”

“Agatha Harkness, I will KICK YOUR ASS right now…”

This time, only Wanda laughs, because she knows it lacks any real bite. Agatha rolls her eyes, calling back, “You’d have to have terrible aim to kick my ass without killing yourself, Jenny. Although, now that I think about it…”

Jen pokes her head around the wall that separates half the kitchen from the common area. “Just because Fury is making you earn your keep doesn’t mean you get to be a bitch to me, Harkness!”

“If you’re going to fight, can you take it to the back lawn, please?” Wanda pinches the bridge of her nose, now trying to discern if this will actually turn into a fire fight or if her partner and their coven-mate are going to keep it playful. Fortunately, Agatha shoots her an amused glance and shrugs, plunking back down in the armchair she’d been reading in before Fury came in.

“I have no intention of fighting today.”

Jen snorts derisively, disappearing back into the kitchen. Fury glances over at Wanda with a smirk. “Maximoff, you really got the ‘mom voice’ down, didn’t you? Gonna come in handy getting these kids to shut up during training.”

Wanda makes a face, intending to respond, until she stops dead in her tracks, sensing…an unfamiliar presence on campus. Fury cocks his head to the side, watching her, but she holds her hand up to tell him to be quiet and reaches out with her magic. After a moment, she meets his gaze.

“There’s somebody on campus who wasn’t here ten minutes ago, and it’s not someone who’s been here. Were we expecting anyone?”

“Not that I know of. Nobody should be able to find it. How do you know it’s someone who isn’t usually here?” Fury’s starting the move towards the long hallway to the front entry, but Agatha stops him, now on her feet with a disgruntled sigh.

“We warded the property the other day - gives an added layer of magical protection. Helps us figure out whether new faces are…friendly.” She looks like she wants to glare at Wanda, but is also mostly proud. “I’m surprised you picked up on that before I did. Nicely done.”

Wanda beams at her and offers her arm as they walk down the hallway. “I had the best teacher.”

They’re at the front entry, Wanda’s hand hovering over the security panel’s “show camera” button, before Agatha turns on her with a suspicious look. “Darling, was that compliment intended to continue affirming my decision to reluctantly accept teaching again?”

Wanda leans over and pecks her cheek, letting out a single giggle of mischief. “So what if it was? Now, let’s see who this mystery friend is in front of the door…” She taps the interface’s button, and the camera view shows on the screen.

“Who the hell is that?” Agatha asks, but Wanda barely processes her speech. She, too, is staring at the camera, but in varying degrees of shock over a few moments. Her mind fills with questions, jumbling together, but she doesn’t move to open the door.

Where have you been?

Why are you alone?

Why didn’t anyone call you for this?

Why do you look so utterly terrified?

“Wanda. Who is that?” Agatha prods again, tilting her head. Wanda exhales, a slow smile appearing on her face. She gently disentangles her arm from Agatha’s, and takes the three steps to the doors. As she reaches for the handle, she looks back at her partner.

“That’s…somebody I’m surprised nobody reached out to sooner. But I’m about to find out why.”

She pushes the door open to reveal a young man who can’t be older than eighteen, his eyes slightly nervous, his body just slightly leaning towards underfed but muscular. He readjusts his backpack on his shoulder and opens his mouth to speak, but Wanda cuts him off with that same smile. “It’s about time you showed up. Where’ve you been, Peter?”

Peter Parker looks at her, and those nervous eyes fill with tears. “Wanda. You…you remember me?”

Wanda puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head, stepping back a little so Peter can step through the front door. “Of course I do, we’d never have finished Thanos off without you. I was hoping you’d be all good after that…go back to being Queens’ friendly little superhero.”

“Oh, so this is Spider-Man,” mutters Agatha, and it’s supposed to only be for Wanda’s ears, but Peter hears it. He sighs.

“You…you put that together very easily. People know the mask, but they don’t know my face.”

Wanda furrows her eyebrows as she regards the college-age boy. “Peter, is everything okay? Of course I’d remember you, why would you…”

“Because nobody else does,” he whispers, eyes dropping to the floor as deep sorrow crosses his face. “The spell…it won’t let them. It was to keep everyone safe, but now I don’t have anyone. I’m…how did it not affect you, Wanda?”

Wanda stops, looks at Peter Parker, really looks, and her mind starts to put the pieces together. Nobody remembers him except her…there was a spell, but it didn’t affect her…and now he’s alone. She straightens up and opens her arms, and without another word, the boy nearly collapses into them. He doesn’t cry - seems he’s done enough of that - but he hugs her back as if letting go would kill him.

“Who cast that spell, Peter?” she murmurs, and his shoulders sag as he whispers the name. She gives him another moment, working hard to quell the rage in her soul, before she straightens up and looks over at Agatha.

“Can you go get Fury, please? If Stephen Strange doesn’t fix this now, I will kill him myself.”

Chapter Text

When she opens the door and slips quietly into the building, the cacophony of shouting and buzz of magical energy, as well as a loud crashing sound, nearly sends her running right back outside. But curiosity gets the better of her, so she peeks around the corner and sneaks over to a chair near the commotion.

Stephen is here, and Wanda is pissed. If the tone of her low, strained voice isn’t evidence enough, the fact that the Scarlet Witch is playing with several curls of her magic around her fingers should do the trick. America’s almost fascinated by the power, to be frank - it almost reminds her of those little fuzzy worm toys that some of her friends at Kamar-Taj liked to prank each other with, the kind that have little strings and move between your fingers.

America looks over to Stephen and sees him standing up, brushing himself off and looking at Wanda with half-indignant, half-pleading eyes.

“It wasn’t done with malicious intent, Wanda. I don’t remember the full scope of what I did, but reality wasn’t safe if I left it alone. I did what I had to - ”

“Stephen, if I hear you finish that bullshit sentence for the second time in two fucking years, we are going to have a problem. I don’t care what you thought your justification was, you should have fixed it months ago. Once everything settled down. Peter has nobody because you didn't bother!” Wanda’s got a fire blazing in her eyes - not her magic, or America would be back outside with Kamala and the twins, specifically on Wanda’s orders, but her light emerald eyes are showing that she’s seething. As it is, America sensed Stephen’s arrival on campus and had come inside out of curiosity.

What she didn’t expect was…whatever the hell this is. There’s a boy; no, he’s a young man, but super young - he has to be around Cassie’s age, maybe a little older. Nobody except Wanda apparently knows who he is, including Stephen, and apparently that is Stephen’s fault.

The boy is sitting on one of the couches, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor. He looks…lonely. And terrified.

America knows that feeling entirely too well, and the empathy that fills her chest is almost overwhelming. She spent so many years running, raising herself, being alone…she couldn’t imagine doing that so much later in life. 

She was only a child. This boy - Peter, she heard Wanda call him - had people until apparently, Stephen had to make everyone forget his existence. Something about multiversal safety.

Which sounds an awful lot like the bullshit excuse the other Stephen Strange gave America for trying to steal her power.

Now you understand, a voice, not her own, echoes into her mind and nearly makes her jump. America raises her eyebrows subtly and scans the room - Wanda and Strange are still in the midst of a heated discussion, this boy isn’t even looking at anyone and doesn’t give off the aura of being able to communicate telepathically. But Agatha is just watching the chaos from a different couch, calmly observant. She catches America’s gaze, and a hint of a smirk plays on one corner of her mouth. Good, you figured that out quickly. I told Wanda you’d make one hell of a witch. Might learn faster than with the sorcerers, if you ask me, but nobody generally does. But now do you see the irony of this conversation - of the excuses?

America concentrates, hard, to speak back. Agatha’s psychic presence is much harder to speak with than Wanda’s, and requires more effort for some reason. I understand the similarities, but the overall picture just…

Agatha sighs, psychically, and America suppresses a giggle. She’s never heard someone make that noise into her mind and somehow, it tickles in her inner ear. He does what he thinks he has to do to keep everything balanced out, and to hell with the consequences or blowback for other people. Doesn’t matter what universe he’s in. I know this Strange took you in, but people can do nice things and still have objectively shitty personality traits.

America doesn’t know what to say to that, so her lips twist for a moment as she ponders. She finally meets Agatha’s subtle gaze and gives the faintest nod to show she understands. The older witch nods back before turning her attention back to the bickering. America tries to listen, but she doesn’t understand half of whatever the hell they’re saying; it’s too advanced magically compared to what she does know.

“ - I don’t even remember how - ” 

“That sounds like a problem with your abilities, then, Stephen. I don’t care if you remember; I just want you to fix it. I shouldn’t be the only fucking person who remembers that Peter exists! He doesn’t deserve to be forgotten like that. Nobody deserves to be left to their own darkness with no one to care unless they’re needed, Stephen Strange, or have you forgotten?”

Wanda’s eyes aren’t red, but they’re glassy with unshed tears all of a sudden. The emotion in her voice in the last sentence is raw, wrought with long-stifled agony. It’s startling, but America isn’t afraid. She hasn’t been afraid of Wanda for a while now, not since her first glimpse of who the woman truly is, back at the Kaplans’ house. Her boys have helped that understanding immensely - Billy has answered any questions America asks him, explaining the psychic link with his mother and the depths of the long-running despair she tries to hide from her children, the other kids, pretty much everyone.

In fact, America is beginning to understand what drove the woman to her former corruption, to the darkest parts of the Scarlet Witch persona. She may be only fifteen years old, but America knows a thing or two about being left alone in the darkness. And Wanda, as she’s come to realize since they all moved onto campus, has been left to her own devices and her own trauma constantly for years. She’s tried to shield the teens from her darker thoughts, her excruciatingly painful history, but America knows the fear and heaviness in those eyes all too well. Wanda isn’t just talking about Peter Parker here - she’s giving the faintest nugget of her own pain, trying to make sure nobody else endures what she has since before “the Blip” everyone talks about in this universe.

And she’s right.

America walks over to the couch, sinks into the cushions beside Peter, and reaches out hesitantly. She’s not sure if she’s going to touch his arm to get his attention, but she retracts her hand as soon as he looks up. She smiles shyly at him. “Hi. I’m America - I, um, was at Kamar-Taj with Stephen for a while, until Fury called me to come here. Peter, right?”

The boy gives a weak smile back, nodding slightly. “Yep. It’s nice to meet you. If we go by our made-up names, I’m Spider-Man.”

Recognition glows in the corners of America’s mind. “Oh! You’re the guy with the webs! Stephen and Wong told me about you, they just never gave me your name - which I guess makes sense, now that I know the rest of it. You should stay here with us! We’re starting the early stages of training tomorrow, and it’s going to be cool. You’d be so good for the group, Cassie is always complaining that everyone is either older or younger than her.”

Peter sighs, glancing ruefully over at Strange and Wanda. “I’ll feel better about that offer if Fury and Ms. Danvers can remember who I am. I was…I was part of the Avengers, until Mr. Stark died and the Avengers just kind of dissolved. But nobody knows me now, except apparently Wanda? I’m not sure how that happened.”

“I think it’s because she out-powers Stephen, honestly. Speaking of…” America stands, narrowing her eyes at her old mentor. “Stephen, why can you not just fix this already?”

Stephen turns to look at her in shock. It seems he didn’t even realize America had walked into the building - but Wanda did, and she sighs deeply as her anger deflates a little. Stephen, on the other hand, straightens up and clearly tries to look parental.

“America, why are you inside? This is a conversation for adults, and not something you should be involved in.” His voice is calm, firm, and it irritates something in her. Maybe it’s the “teenage hormones” Wong always complains about, but right now it doesn’t matter. She marches up to him and crosses her arms.

“I felt you show up, and I didn’t know why. I came in to check it out. The witches noticed that I came in. Why can you not just fix this?” She watches Stephen fumble for words, trying to figure out how to explain it to her, and it just irritates her more. “Just tell the damn truth, Stephen.”

“America,” Wanda chastises her in a low whisper, but America holds her hand up to quiet her. Wanda blinks and steps back, shocked at the teen’s assertiveness, but Agatha snickers quietly from the couch. America breathes slowly for a second, then looks at the witch with barely-concealed pleading.

“Let me help,” she says quietly. “Nobody deserves to be left alone and forgotten like that. You said it, and I meant it.”

Wanda huffs, but a small smile lights her face as she nods. America nods back, then looks at Stephen. “I don’t know if you just haven't figured out a fix, or if you just forgot you even cast the spell in the first place, or whatever. And I don’t care. Now you know, if you forgot before, and you are going to fix it. Now, Stephen. Please. Do not leave people behind. That doesn’t match up with who you are to me, and I’d rather not start to see you in a bad light because of it. I don’t want to see this version of you as the same guy who tried to kill me to save the multiverse.”

Stephen sighs, deeply, and reluctantly meets America’s gaze. “I’d fix it if I knew how.”

“If you WHAT?” Wanda shrieks, and Stephen startles as her hands start glowing and crackling deep red. America steps back slightly, looking at Stephen incredulously. But before she can speak, to everyone’s shock, Agatha is on her feet and standing directly in front of the sorcerer, eyes flickering violet.

“You fucking idiot,” she sneers, glaring. It would almost be comical, given he’s significantly taller than Agatha, but her presence is naturally a thousand times his size, and America catches the almost-imperceptible gulp he does. She’d be more concerned, but it’s funny, and she knows Agatha won’t maim or murder anyone on campus so as not to traumatize the other students. At least, she hopes not. Meanwhile, Agatha continues. “You performed a mass memory wiping spell without looking up a way to undo it first? Is that not one of the first things they teach you in the Sanctum? For a former surgeon, you have terrible impulse control. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Harkness, this really doesn’t concern you - ” Stephen tries to puff up, but Agatha’s eyes flare and she hovers slightly off the ground. To America’s surprise, a flash of purple cuffs Stephen’s hands to his sides, preventing him from even considering fighting her.

“No, but it concerns someone my girl cares about,” she hisses back. “And it concerns you making stupid decisions. Fortunately for Parker over there, I’m fairly certain someone in my coven’s got a reversal spell for this bullshit. Good thing it’s not difficult to overpower your stupid ass.”

“If you can fix it, why the hell did you call me?” His voice is defensive, and America rolls her eyes. Agatha tilts her head slightly, a challenging smirk on her face.

“It’s always easier for the original caster to do a reversal, and if you were worth your salt, you’d know that,” she coos, voice incredibly condescending as she snuffs out the flame in her hand, releasing Strange from the bindings as she floats back down to the ground. “But since you haven’t the faintest idea how, get out. I’ll call my girls in to do this.”

Strange is more than happy to oblige, turning towards the door. But America spots Wanda’s eyes flare scarlet, just subtly, and he stops dead in his tracks. He remains that way for a long moment, and America casts a panicked glance to Agatha. What is she doing?

From what I can tell, she’s digging through his memories. I think she’s trying to push past the spell to see exactly what he did, so that when we undo it we don’t fuck things up more. Agatha’s psychic voice is oddly proud, and deeply fond as she talks about Wanda. I guess I’ve taught her better than I realize. I don’t know if she would have been so cautious before. She’s actively trying not to hurt him with this - which is stupid, because he deserves it, but that’s not a conversation for younger ears.

At least she’s trying, America responds softly. She’s so different now.

In a way, yes, but not how you’re thinking, Agatha rebuts. She’s much more careful now, but she was never truly a bad person.

I know.

And she does know. She’s known. She knew well over a year ago, the moment she pleaded for her own life, invoked the feelings of the two boys this woman loves so much. She really knew the moment their Wanda returned from the other Wanda’s universe, the moment something shattered inside the Scarlet Witch. The moment she realized how deep she’d spiraled, and decided she would never endanger another young, innocent soul again. The unspoken apology had meant enough, but the telepathic conversation at Jeff and Rebecca’s had shifted something between them.

Attempting to commit murder or doing wrong to each other is a right of passage with magic and the friendships surrounding it, Agatha murmurs into her mind, and America bites back a laugh. Seriously. I tried to kill Wanda, but I’d never imagine life without her now. I accidentally killed Alice, and now somehow we’re completely fine. Rio actually did kill me, but she’s my ex…and now somehow, she’s best friends with my girl. I still haven’t figured that one out.

Wait, who’s Rio?

…I’ll leave that explanation to Wanda, we don’t have all day.

Finally, Wanda releases Strange, and he lifts his hands to cast his portal back to the Sanctum. He turns, grimaces at Agatha, America, and Peter. “Apologies. I hope this gets fixed, but please don’t call me over here about something unless you’re planning not to threaten me next time. America, behave yourself or I’ll have Wong come get you.”

Peter shrugs, Agatha smirks, and America rolls her eyes. “Bye, Stephen.” He scoffs, fully ready to scold her attitude. Instead of letting him, America suddenly remembers a few of the lessons she’d worked on when no one was looking, cheerfully shoots a small pulse of energy at him, pushes him through the portal, and closes it before he can argue.

When she turns to Wanda, she nearly melts under the little bit of pride in the witch’s eyes. “Very good, America. You don’t have a ring on, though, how’d you even close the portal?”

America grins cheekily back. “I’ll explain another time. Do you guys need me to call the coven in here?”

“No need!” Alice calls, as she, Lilia, and Jen emerge from the hallway leading to their wing. Alice is grimacing and shoots Agatha a dirty look. “Agatha basically whistled into the psychic link. You guys are going to hate it when she does it out loud. Wanda, do you have what we need?”

Wanda scrunches her nose, looks over at Peter with a soft, maternal smile, then grins at Alice. “I do. You’d think he would have the sense to ward his mind a little better, but at least it was easy to break through his handiwork.” She looks to Agatha, and America catches vague hints of their mental conversation. The older witch walks over to where Peter is sitting and offers her hand, which he nervously takes and stands up.

“We’re going to the indoor training area. America, go back outside, please.”

America pouts, not caring how childish she looks. “But you said I’d make a good witch. Can’t I help?”

Agatha starts to nod, but Wanda cuts her off. “Not today, honey. But if you’re more interested in witch training than sorcery, we’ll discuss it later, okay? It’s safer if you go outside.”

America sighs, not wanting to argue, and the witches head toward the training area. Before she leaves the building, America calls, “Good luck, Peter!”

She doesn’t miss the shy little grin of thanks Spider-man gives back.

Correcting the wrongs committed by Strange’s botched spell took a lot of energy out of the coven. But it seemed to be incredibly effective, because no sooner was Peter Parker remembered than Fury was getting calls from Tony Stark’s widow, asking about her adopted son. Wanda had flopped back onto the couch and nearly fainted from the exertion, Alice had immediately gone in search of Advil, Jen had retired to her own room to meditate, and Lilia had straight up stalked to her room muttering about a nap.

The witches barely made it through dinner, Wanda imploring Carol and Clint and Fury to commandeer the teens’ evening before everyone retires to their respective spaces. Wanda and Agatha took just enough time to watch a single episode of The Middle before Agatha takes one look at Wanda’s barely-conscious face and declares it to be bedtime. Both of them had crashed the moment their heads were on pillows.

But now, Agatha is halfway awakened by an insidious, foreign magic assaulting her senses. Beside her, Wanda tenses and rolls over, still asleep but now restless.

Agatha’s no stranger to the nightmares that plague her lover’s mind. The haunting flashbacks, projections of a destroyed future Wanda tries to avoid - Agatha is all too familiar. She has her own demons, her own flashbacks, and she’s pushed into enough of Wanda’s now.

But whatever this fresh hell is, these threats in her beloved’s newest dreams they’ve tried to ward away…it’s unlike anything either of them recognize. Agatha isn’t a fan of not knowing.

So she’s more than irritated when, in her half-asleep state, she catches the hints of a threatening nightmare trying to slither into Wanda’s mind. Absolutely not. Jolting herself into some sense of being halfway lucid, Agatha takes a deep breath and exerts her will, and suddenly she’s observing from the psychic plane again.

She can see the dream, curled in bright green smoke, trying to wiggle around the wards and snake its way inside. It’s a smooth, fluid energy - this isn’t a new magic user. This is someone who is a seasoned practitioner, someone who can bend the power to their will with absolute ease and has likely slipped through wards before.

And someone deeply, innately familiar with dark magic. Agatha can’t say the idea is a comfort.

You will not be harassing my girl tonight, she snarls, flaring her eyes a deep violet and allowing her magic to flow from her fingertips. Sit et non tenetur possimus qui.

To her shock, the energy resists, deflecting her power like magnets repelling. Agatha narrowly avoids the blast of her own magic, recalling the power to herself with a flick of her fingertips. The energy…is smug, it seems. It hisses and crackles before continuing to wiggle and try to find openings in the wards.

Issuing a silent apology to her girl, Agatha recalls a spell she’d learned from the Darkhold, flexes her hands, and casts again. Her fingers darken, just for a moment, and she cringes as pain shoots through them, but it works. The energy is gone with a squealing hiss, but the sense of unease remains heavy in this plane.

Agatha sighs deeply and closes her eyes, bringing herself back to her body.

Beside her, Wanda sleeps, quietly unaware. She’s usually hyper-attuned to dream-related problems…but the Spider-man situation must have exhausted her already overworked mind, and she still sleeps. Without thinking, Agatha reaches out, the ghost of a touch tracing her lover’s face, her heart sinking.

What does he want from you? How do I stop this?

Ŷøų çäñňøť şävę ħëř…

Ťħë ẞçářłêț Ŵïțćħ ïş mîñě.

Agatha grimaces as a loud, painful sensation crosses her mind. She sighs again as she sees Wanda’s forehead crease, before the younger witch’s hands are pulling Agatha closer and snuggling into her chest. Leave it to the little empath to know when things aren’t good, even when she’s asleep.

As second nature, Agatha presses a kiss into the crown of the head resting against her chest, burying her fingers into scarlet waves and falling back into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter Text

“Ms. Maximoff and Ms. Danvers, please report to the briefing room at 0800 hours. Thank you!”

Wanda glances at the time on her phone and groans audibly, lowering her head onto her arms. “Damn it, what now? I haven’t even had breakfast yet, Fury!”

“You could literally just use your red wiggly-woos and look in his head, see what he wants and save us a briefing,” Carol calls unhelpfully, grin full of mischief, from a table over. Beside her, Kamala’s eyes widen and she sputters over her cereal. She may not have been fully awake before, but she is now.

“Carol! I thought we weren’t supposed to use powers on our authority!”

“You kids aren’t, because you’re menaces,” Carol corrects, narrowing her eyes playfully at Kamala, “but if Wanda can save me from having to sit in a meeting with Fury on day one of training before I’ve finished my coffee, I will find her an alibi.”

Wanda sighs, lifting her head for a moment to glance at Carol with reproach. “When we lived at the compound, I was expressly banned from reading minds. Kind of made people skittish after Ultron. Fury may not have been there with us, but I’m fairly certain the guys warned him. There’s a non-zero chance he’ll know if I look in his head - kind of hard not to feel that stuff. Maybe it won’t be that bad.”

“It’s either ‘something happened’ or ‘this could have been an email,’” Carol grouses, but she’s still smiling as she leans over the steaming mug she’s about to sip from. Wanda narrows her eyes and shoots her fellow former Avenger a smirk.

“Do you even have an email address, Danvers?”

Carol doesn’t even miss a beat before replying. “I spent most of my time in space handling intergalactic conflicts before meeting Kamala and the whole ‘powers entanglement’ mess. If I still have an email, I never check it - not since everyone got un-Blipped. Do you have one?”

Wanda huffs out a single laugh and shakes her head. “Prior to the Accords being repealed, I was a wanted international terrorist with no citizenship anywhere - so no, I do not.”

“We should probably rectify that, dear, because I’m tired of mine being the backup for any bullshit you have to get,” Agatha mutters in her ear, and Wanda rolls her eyes and scoffs at her lover. Agatha quirks a single eyebrow, and Wanda grins back before rising, begrudgingly, to her feet and following Carol to the briefing room.

As soon as they’re out of earshot of the common area, Carol turns to her, eyebrows furrowed in thought even as she’s speaking. “So what do we think this is about?”

Wanda gives a half-shrug and yawns. She honestly is a little concerned, given how slow things have been thus far, but if she thinks too hard about it, she knows she’s going to end up in an anxiety spiral. “Hopefully it doesn’t take long. I’m actually hungry this morning, and if Fury doesn’t give me enough time to eat before we have to start with the first day of an actual schedule, I’m going to be rather irritated.”

Carol grins and winks. “I won’t let him do that, don’t worry. You still look a lot thinner than I remember you, Wanda, and you cannot go into battle light enough to blow away in the wind. Flying doesn’t count,” she adds as an afterthought, spotting Wanda’s eyes sparkling with mischief. They reach the briefing room door, noticing that the blinds are down in every window, and both women stop. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” sighs Wanda, and the pair walks into the room. Almost immediately, Wanda’s eyes widen, then narrow as she smirks at Fury - before turning to the unexpected guests he has with him. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

Sam Wilson grins and stands up, stepping away from his chair. “Don’t give Goose that much credit, Wanda. This was all me!”

“Oh shut up, it was not,” Bucky Barnes grumbles as he also rises to his feet, but his eyes soften considerably as he regards Wanda. “You can’t even take credit for trying to rebuild the Avengers, Sam, but that’s not what all this is about anymore.”

Wanda stops on her way to hug Sam, eyebrows raised as she glances between Steve Rogers’ two best friends. “What does ‘rebuild the Avengers’ mean, exactly? Do I want to know?”

To her surprise, Sam freezes, and actually looks a little bit…guilty. He sighs, reaching up behind himself to scratch at the back of his neck, and Bucky sighs. The two men glance at each other for a moment, seeming to have a conversation with their eyes. After the moment has passed, Bucky looks back at Wanda, head tilted faintly. “Have you not been keeping up with everything going on?”

“I was…we’ll say ‘barely alive’ for a month, then spent several months barely using my phone once the boys made me get one again. So I’ve missed quite a bit,” Wanda replies blithely, shrugging. Carol chuckles beside her, and Sam takes a deep breath.

However, Fury is the one to interject. “Maximoff, we have more training assistance for today’s start. More…Avengers, if you will. Before Ross’ unfortunate gamma incident caused him to commit mass property damage and end up in the Raft for various crimes - ”

“Wait, what?”  Wanda asks incredulously, earning a light tap on the arm from Carol reminding her to let Fury finish.

“Long story. But before that, he asked Wilson to build a new team of Avengers. And as for Barnes - ”

“I’d rather not discuss how much I’ve had to work with Valentina in the last two years, Fury,” Bucky interjects dryly, and Wanda catches the faintest glimmer of an amused smirk flashing across Fury’s face.

“Point is, we’ve got quite a bit of help. There were a few disagreements, but we have quite a bit of help now. New faces and all that.”

Carol grins, suddenly more awake than she’s been, and Wanda just nods. “Understood. Does this mean Sam and Bucky will have a hand in sparring? We have a few kids who might not be up to training with them just yet.”

“I believe we are having the young ones spar with each other. They will still practice with us sometimes, but you should know that I don’t pull my punches,” a female voice drawls as the meeting room door opens again, and Wanda’s head whips around. That accent…

Walking into the room are a shorter, muscular blonde woman and a slightly taller woman whose brown curls are swept neatly away from her face. Behind them, an unassuming-looking wiry man with shaggy brown hair stays close to the blonde woman, and a taller, muscular blonde man tails them. The blonde woman smiles thinly at Carol and Wanda, who share a brief glance before nodding politely.

“Yelena, you could have waited, like, two seconds,” Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair again. The woman, Yelena, grins with mischief in her eyes. 

“You were taking forever.” Yelena’s accent is Russian, unmasked. She turns to the women in the room, extending her hand to Wanda. “Yelena Belova. I’m part of Bucky’s - unfortunate association with Valentina. We all are, actually.”

Wanda takes the hand offered, shaking Yelena’s gently with curiosity burning in her mind. She shelves it for now - she could ask later. “Wanda Maximoff.”

“I know,” Yelena tilts her head slightly, raising her eyebrows for a moment. “I’m sure my sister didn’t exactly talk about me, but I knew a little about all of you.”

My sister.

Sister.

Yelena.

Wanda’s jaw literally would be on the floor if it could be right now. Or maybe it is, and that’s why her mouth is so dry. Regardless, she has to snap her mouth shut and glare at a snickering Carol, before turning back to Yelena with her heart pounding. “Oh. Oh my god. I knew your name was familiar. Natasha…”

“Wait, Yelena, where the hell is Alexei?” Sam interjects, looking mildly concerned as he peers around the open door. The brunette woman near Yelena rolls her eyes, answering the question in a husky British accent.

“Yelena told him to wait in the entry. One of us will grab him when we’re done here. He was entirely too enthusiastic for any of us at this hour of the day.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head, before he meets Wanda and Carol’s curious eyes. “You’ve met Yelena, that’s Ava, Alexei is in the entry, Walker’s over there, and - ”

“I’m Bob,” the shaggy-haired man offers, a timid smile on his face. Wanda instantly takes a liking to him, her smile softening a little. From the expression next to her, Carol also finds his demeanor endearing.

“So,” Yelena claps her hands together, drawing attention back to herself. “Where do we start?”

“Oh my god, it’s Captain America!”

Wanda groans.

They forgot to tell Kamala, the "Avengers #1 Fan," in advance.

Damn it.

Beside her, Carol snorts.

“Rein it in, kiddo, we’ve got work to do.”

Kamala nods and snaps her mouth shut, standing so perfectly at attention that Wanda nearly bursts into laughter.

It’s been a couple of hours since the briefing room meeting, which has allotted enough time for Wanda to have eaten breakfast (Carol had nearly thrown something at Fury when he had initially suggested training first thing). The kids have all been awake for a bit now, most of them have eaten breakfast and completed any morning rounds of schooling, and all of them are now standing in the training area indoors. Sam’s colleague and Falcon protégée, Torres, showed up not long after the briefing. Yelena’s team has gotten somewhat acquainted with the kids and the rest of the team - apparently, Agatha and Yelena have crossed paths at least once, but Wanda hasn’t asked for the specifics yet (and isn’t sure if she should, knowing Agatha’s proclivity for crime) - and now she, Yelena, and Bucky stand at the front of the room, explaining the first day’s training activities.

“If I’m not mistaken, almost everyone in this room is enhanced in some way, correct?” Bucky speaks to the general group of kids, and everyone makes some noise of confirmation - except for Kate and Riri, who shrug. “Regardless, most of you have some degree of skill. But it would be foolish of me to assume you’ve had nearly enough training in effective sparring. Especially if you can manipulate the elements in any capacity.”

“Why would we need to know how to spar in the old way when we have powers?” Tommy asks, not out of snark but with genuine curiosity, and Wanda actually feels a little bit proud of him for basically walking right into Bucky’s next point, if this is going where she suspects (because it’s not like she hasn’t heard this spiel before).

Sure enough, Bucky’s lips twitch into a grin. “Because, Shepherd, there are ways to inhibit power, where all you have left is your body and your mind. You can ask any enhanced Avenger, and they’ll tell you they’ve had instances where they’ve had to fight without their unique skills.” His eyes meet Wanda’s, and he smirks slightly. “Except for, obviously, your mother. I don’t think she’s had to fight with an inhibitor on. But that’s not the point.”

Wanda feels like she has to clarify, just for certainty. “I’ve still had to fight without using magic. Just by choice, essentially - back when I was still new to my power, learning how to use it correctly. It’s not often, but it definitely helps to be able to defend yourself.”

Bucky nods approvingly, before turning back to the small group. “Now. Any further questions before we get to work?”

Half an hour later, after some warming up and a two-mile run (which everyone but Tommy initially complained about, but Tommy joined the grousing as soon as his mother informed him that he couldn’t use his powers), the youth have all been assigned sparring partners and are cautiously practicing. Carol, Wanda, and the other elder Avengers have been pacing the training area, observing and giving specific pointers. Wanda’s eyes keep wandering to her boys - not sparring with each other, but still awkwardly practicing with their partners. Billy somehow ended up with Kate - who may be smaller in stature, but has trained with Clint and is definitely putting the young witch through his paces. She’s leg-swept him twice now, but he’s taking it in stride and being a good sport. Tommy ended up paired with Cassie, who doesn’t have as much fighting experience but is strong and analytical, and packs a mean right hook.

(Wanda makes a mental note to text Scott about how well his daughter is doing.)

(Actually, this whole group is doing really, really well. She makes an additional note to update Fury on the progress.)

“Maybe they aren’t a lost cause,” murmurs Yelena as she passes Wanda, accent thick and smirk even wider. Wanda rolls her eyes and smirks back. Maybe it’s the proximity of their respective countries of origin, meaning their senses of humor are both rather similar, or maybe it’s the ties to one of Wanda’s late best friends, but she already adores Yelena.

“You sound like your sister, Belova.” Wanda relocates her accent, thickening her words with the Sokovian lilt she usually masks.

“Ah, thank you!” Yelena chirps, smirk growing, and Wanda chuckles to herself as she keeps moving. 

She zones in on Eli and America, eyes keenly scanning their forms. Eli has a bit of an unfair advantage here - as Isaiah Bradley’s grandson, he’s got traces of serum in his blood and many years of experience training in a boxing gym. But for as petite as America is, the girl is scrappy and powerful…and incredibly smart. Wanda can see Eli growing increasingly frustrated with America dodging another attempted kick, and it occurs to her that she might need to intervene based on the boy’s expression.

“All right, we need to switch a couple of partners,” Bucky calls, beating Wanda to the punch. “Chavez, you and Shepherd. Lang, go to Khan. Parker, you and Bradley. Gotta be comfortable sparring with everyone regardless of height and ability, and you can’t get so frustrated that you lose control!”

At first, it looks like America has met her match in Tommy - the two have similar builds, despite Tommy being taller, but even without speed Tommy is fast. America is struggling to keep up with the change of pace, but she’s also clearly enjoying herself in the process. Moments later, however, after a whoop and a quiet giggle, Tommy is flat on his back, and America looks suspiciously proud of herself as she keeps him pinned to the mat. Wanda’s “overprotective mom” mode has quieted down considerably since the sparring partner switch happened, and she can’t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the triumphant expression on America’s face and the wide eyes on her son. As she approaches the pair, Tommy looks up at her, panting. “Are you coming to save me?”

Wanda outright laughs, looking between the pair with an eyebrow raised. “I’m definitely not, sweetheart. And America - ”

“Did I do good?” the girl asks with a grin, and Wanda laughs again. She reaches down to squeeze America’s shoulder gently and levels her gaze with the wide brown eyes staring at her.

“You did. But one piece of advice…” Wanda leans in to whisper in America’s ear. “Don’t get distracted, that’s when you’re most vulnerable.”

America’s eyes shift, and she smirks knowingly and nods. The pang of… something when Wanda realizes that America trusts her enough to take her tips now…it’s different.

(Trust is futile when all you do is evil.)

Ŷøů çæň’ț ßâvę êvèřŷøňę.

Ÿøů ŵïłł ļøßë ťħęm…

Jůßț łîķę țħǒşë béfōřê…

ẞŤØP

Ĩ’M ŞØŘRŸ

Płęāßê…

(Connection terminated.)

The sudden sharp, stabbing pain in Wanda’s mind is too intense to stifle, and she covers her ears with a shriek as a wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm her. Red energy bursts from her body, though she doesn’t notice, and the entire group stops what they’re doing. Behind her, a fluorescent bulb in the ceiling shatters, and Cassie and Kamala both scream. Wanda forces her eyes open and whips around, seeing both girls trying to shield themselves from the glass raining down, and her mind just…

Stops.

They can’t get hurt. (The glass disappears from around them in a wave of red mist.)

I almost hurt them. (Any cuts the two girls have acquired from the glass are instantly healed.)

I need to get out of here before I hurt anyone else. (She’s gone, in a flash of red, as if she were never there, but not to her room.)

Agatha finds her an hour later, curled up against a tree with her knees pulled to her chest. They’re behind the fenced area at the back of the campus, in the little wooded area, and Wanda isn’t sure how she ended up here since she’s never been back here before. She barely registers the crunch of Agatha’s boots on the ground in front of her, nor her partner sitting gingerly down beside her. She only registers Agatha’s presence when the older witch lays a hand on one of her knees.

“What happened back there, hot stuff?”

Wanda’s not crying, but it still takes her a good while to come up with a response. Even so, she looks anxiously at Agatha and whispers, simply, “I don’t know. I’m…it’s like I’m hearing something that isn’t there. But it’s distorted. And I think…I think it’s tied to the dreams I was having.” Her eyes finally fill with tears, lip quivering. “It started to go away with the wards, Agatha, but it’s like whatever this is can break through them…what’s happening to me? How am I supposed to be useful when I can’t even stop whatever this is?”

Agatha’s heart, usually closed off to most but those she holds dear, constricts, and she flares her magic, repositioning them so that Agatha sits behind Wanda, legs splayed out to allow closeness. She pulls her little beloved witch to her chest and allows Wanda to melt into the embrace, intent on stabilizing the younger witch before speaking.

“I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’re going to make it stop. I just need to figure out how.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” a new voice says softly from across the clearing, and both women’s heads jerk up to see none other than Rio, expression unreadable as she stands a few feet away. Wanda would normally be excited to see one of her favorite cosmic entities, but her emotions are a tangled mess and she doesn’t have the energy to allow herself to feel the better ones. She does muster a tiny smile, though, which Rio sees and reciprocates.

Agatha’s voice cuts sharply through the sudden silence at Rio’s appearance. “Why? Do you know who we’re dealing with?”

“The bastard who’s kept me so busy lately,” Rio replies, crossing the clearing in a few strides to sit down in front of them both. “I have a name, but…that’s all I can give you.”

“Just say it,” Wanda whispers, voice strained and hoarse, and Rio’s eyes take on such a soft sadness that it almost breaks Wanda’s heart. “Don’t look at me like that, Rio, you’re making me nervous.”

“I just don’t like that he’s doing this to you,” Rio whispers back, glancing between the pair. “But I can’t stop him. I can’t interfere. But…the name you’re looking for…”

She takes a deep breath, not that she needs it to survive, but to steady herself. “His name is Victor von Doom. Not of this universe, but he’s not far from it either. And with the power he’s wielding, you’re going to need one hell of a plan to stop him from combining every single universe into one.”

Chapter Text

“¿A qué te refieres con que secuestró a un recién nacido con superpoderes?” Agatha shrieks, and Rio sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. ” Genial, más hombres con los que tengo que colaborar.”

Across the clearing, Wanda glares ruefully at them both. She’s the only one still seated, back pressed against a tree trunk, arms wrapped around her knees. “I hate when you two do this. Do I seriously have to learn Spanish to keep up? Were my Latin lessons not bad enough, Agatha?”

“Princess, your Latin was fine,” Agatha drawls offhandedly, flapping her hand in Wanda’s direction, though her eyes don’t stop burning into Rio’s. “But please, you don’t need to know Spanish. I don’t need to switch to an ancient language with this bitch, she’ll be correcting my grammar every five fucking seconds.”

“I’m sorry that I was around during all their primes,” Rio grumbles, eyes rolling, before launching back into a heated explanation in Spanish.

Wanda rubs her temples and groans. She’d tried to read their minds ten minutes ago, but how both of them are able to block her telepathy, she’ll never really be certain.

“It’s because we’re still much more seasoned witches, and I deal with your general nonsense on a daily basis.” Agatha flips her hair casually, and Wanda scoffs, briefly flipping her off.

“I just would like to know why I’m not privy to whatever the hell you two are fighting about.”

“Babe. This isn’t fighting. If we were fighting, I’d tell you to shield the campus,” Rio chirps cheerfully, making Wanda snort.

“You know what I mean, Rio.”

“I’m trying to figure out how the hell I can explain this shit to you without you immediately going into kamikaze antihero, my dear. Patience is a virtue. Your transmutation would be so much better if you just agreed with me on that concept.” Agatha doesn’t mean to sound condescending, and Wanda knows that, but it still bites just a hair. She sighs and lowers her chin to her knees, ducking her gaze to the brush at her feet. 

When she doesn’t respond to Agatha’s second attempt to get her attention, she apparently goes back to heatedly talking with Rio, and they sound like Wanda’s underwater. With what part of her brain isn’t shut off right now, her pragmatic side comes out. So, naturally, she reaches out to Billy’s mind.

Is anybody still hurt from earlier?

Billy’s reply is immediate. Not that I can tell. It doesn’t seem like anybody even got hit to begin with. Jen and Alice have been popping from room to room and checking on everyone too. You shielded that blast pretty well - are you okay? Agatha’s been gone for almost an hour, and I felt Rio pop up a little while ago.

Wanda grins wryly to herself, ignoring the women in her vicinity. Good catch. I won’t tell her you’ve figured out how to sense her if you won’t. 

It’s a defense mechanism. She scares me.

William, one of your mothers is literally chaos incarnate; why are you afraid of Death? She’s like a cat. A very poorly trained cat. With attachment issues. And a disdain for the cold, somehow.

So I just have to cast something for snow every time I see her. No problem.

You will be surrounded by runes, no matter where you go, if you cause a blizzard in mid-July.

Billy can’t hide the eye roll in his voice, which nearly has Wanda giving away their conversation. Wanda, need I remind you how I was created? Don’t patronize me about weather events, you could literally will eternal winter into existence after a hot flash. No offense.

Wanda’s exterior cracks, just a little more, and she snickers quietly. Were you always this mouthy? I thought Tommy was the opinionated twin.

Hell if I remember much of that yet. It’s slowly coming. Carol showed me her Skrull torture device for memory restoration. But I don’t really remember being William either, so I guess it evens out?

Wanda doesn’t have time to ruminate on that thought; Agatha has finally noticed that she’s not paying attention, and has been watching her for a moment. Wanda blinks, clearing her mind, before smiling saccharinely at the older witch. “Yes?”

“Just curious over what you and Billy are discussing,” Agatha hums casually, though one eyebrow is raised. Wanda huffs out a laugh.

“Nothing in particular, dear, just occupying myself.”

“Is he close enough that I could traumatize him some more?” Rio asks with a grin, and Wanda raises her eyebrows and scoffs.

“That may as well be your nephew at this point, Rio, stop bullying him.”

“You’re gonna make a mama’s boy out of him if you don’t stop defending him so much,” Rio snarks back, and Agatha reflexively flicks a tiny bolt of purple magic at her. The bolt pops Rio’s exposed shoulder, and the witch blinks before rolling her eyes at Agatha. “Don’t scold me, you know I’m right.”

“Leave Billy alone, haven’t we already covered all of this? I can't play referee for you two forever. It’s the first time I’ve ever developed a single grey hair, Rio, and I’ve barely had this new body for a year!” Agatha gingerly flips the offending white section, still only a few strands but slowly growing into a full streak. Wanda’s stomach does its own gymnastics - why does that look so good on her? - and she whistles quietly, a mischievous smirk on her face. Agatha turns slowly and cackles at the soft blush breaking out on Wanda’s cheeks. “Ah, that. I forgot that all this is very enticing to you.”

“My high school experience was unconventional at best, Agatha. I never got to live with having a crush on one of my much-older teachers! Forgive me if I find your current situation maddeningly attractive.” Wanda pulls her lower lip between her teeth and smiles. Rio snorts and laughs, and Agatha looks conflicted as to whether she wants to shoot a bolt of magic at Wanda or surge forward to kiss her. “Regardless, though, are you two ready and able to tell me what the hell had you in such a tizzy that you were practically shouting at each other?”

Agatha deflates, resignation in her expression. She looks almost nervous at talking to Wanda, but she and Rio both return to where the younger witch is seated and arrange themselves to be sitting in front of her. Rio leans forward, bracing her elbows on her legs, which are crisscrossed in front of her pretzel-style. She glances at Agatha briefly. “Do you want me to tell her? I promise I won’t go overboard.”

Agatha sighs, then nods. “You’ll just add details if I leave any out, so I guess it’d better be you. Lead the way.”

Rio nods, then focuses her attention on Wanda. “So…Doom is from Earth-828. The Avengers never existed in that universe…they didn’t need to. Four astronauts went to space, got stuck in a cosmic storm, came back with superpowers. They’re called the Fantastic Four - a husband and wife, their best friend, and the wife’s brother. Franklin Richards was born a few years ago in that universe, to the husband and wife, Reed and Sue…”

She doesn’t finish initially; Wanda’s face has paled at the mention of the team name and the child’s surname. Rio shakes her head soothingly. “No, babe, not the same Reed Richards who made the mistake of running his mouth while you had the Darkhold. That was a different universe. Anyway. Doom kidnapped Franklin several months ago now…they didn’t know when he was born, but he’s another reality warper. Strong kid, very intelligent, but now in the wrong hands and probably not super safe with his power set. He may not be the only heavily-powered individual in Doom’s sights - he’s after the most powerful mortal beings in the multiverse. Doom has every intention of using what power he can converge and manipulate to merge the multiverse…and it’s going to destroy the entirety of it. Poof. Everything, everyone. Just Doom’s few left, and he calls it salvation. Fucking piece of shit.” Rio’s nostrils flare, and for the first time, Wanda’s a little afraid of her.

“The real fucking question is - how do we stop him?” Agatha pinches the bridge of her nose, speaking in a weary sigh.

Rio’s face darkens, and hardens, somehow all at once. Her voice deepens. “It’s going to take everything we can throw at him. Meticulous, but hard. And some planning. He’s got insanely powerful magic on his side, but he’s also got brains and science - but it’s nothing some of these kids haven’t seen before. Although…” she sighs, running a hand over her face, suddenly looking weary. “I’ve actually been meaning to warn you about one of your…students. I may need to get involved.”

Wanda opens her mouth, but Agatha beats her to it, voice sharp. “First of all, who’s we when you can’t get involved, and second, which kid and what did they do? And why is it probably America?”

“Agatha!” Wanda scolds, but Rio snickers and waves her hand before pointing at Agatha.

“Leave the little nexus being out of this, she did nothing wrong. I can get involved just a little here - I can give you what I know as I learn it, if it’s significant. The multiverse getting fucked up like Doom wants is going to wreck the balance. He’s threatening something I help maintain, something that is my entire purpose. I can’t just let that happen, even if I can’t do much.”

“Then who did you need to warn us about?” Wanda asks, voice soft and accent slipping through. She can’t help the anxiety bubbling below the surface; she can’t risk any of these kids being in jeopardy right now.

Rio grimaces, looks away for a moment, then brings her gaze back. “It’s not whether I’m taking her, but it’s something I may have to intervene in for Riri Williams. Something he fucked up. And if I have to intervene, it’s going to devastate her all over again. I don’t want to have to do it.”

Wanda leans forward, eyes locked on Rio. “Who’s he?”

But Rio doesn’t have to answer. She wouldn’t have spoken first. Because Agatha throws her head back and groans, “Mephisto, you son of a bitch. What did you do this time?”

Wanda blinks a few times, and raises her eyebrows. Mephisto…why does that name sound familiar…

Mortal religions call him the devil. Mephisto’s his given name. Agatha’s voice creeps into her mind, sounding amused at Wanda’s lack of clarity yet still clearly irritated. Sneaky bastard, too. He’s one of many demons, he just happens to be the one who makes deals with people…shady ones. 

“Well, he took another one of my souls. Again. I swear nothing is sacred to him. Nothing with a clear ‘do not touch’ sign is safe from his grubby little paws. Nothing.” Rio’s voice has dipped into a growl, her eternal voice slipping in under her human-presenting one, and Wanda shivers involuntarily. She’s not exactly scared of Rio’s power, but that voice is always a little bone-chilling. “Several years ago now, Riri’s best friend and stepfather were killed in a drive-by shooting in Chicago. It’s a long story regarding how Riri ended up interacting with Mephisto, but six months ago he manipulated her into trading her soul to him for Natalie to be brought back. Rather…she at least wanted the AI she accidentally modeled after her best friend back. But Mephisto, being the tricky bastard he is, stole her soul from the afterlife and resurrected her at the same exact age she was at her time of death. I didn’t give him permission, he gave me nothing in return. He’s done this a couple of times now throughout history, and usually I can balance it out within a few weeks since the bastard doesn’t tend to see fit to discuss things with Death herself. But this time? With all the incursions and the backlog of fucking work I’m having to put up with? Nah. Not a chance. I’m not sure when I’ll strike on that one, but I’m also a bit worried about how Riri will handle it - normally, I try not to put too much thought into this shit, because it can be a lot if I’m processing everyone else’s grief and rage like that. But she’s tied to people I care about, so I’m definitely uneasy.”

She finishes without grandeur, sweeping her legs underneath her and climbing to her feet before reaching out a hand to Wanda. Wanda takes her hand, stands, and then does the same for Agatha. Nobody speaks for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts and eyeing each other. Finally, Rio steps over and wraps her arms around Wanda, who hugs her back without question. “I’ve got to get moving. I’ve already stayed a bit longer than I meant to. I won’t be far, okay? Again…call me if you need something. Literally yell my name with intent, and I’ll probably hear you. The thing with Riri…”

“I’ll talk to her,” Agatha murmurs, running a hand through her hair. Wanda watches her as Rio backs away, concern creeping in because Agatha looks exhausted suddenly, like this is weighing on her more than she admits. (It probably is, but Wanda knows getting her to admit it would be like pulling teeth.)

After Death has disappeared, Agatha glances over at Wanda, shaking her head once and looking much sharper mentally afterwards. “Should we go back now? Your sons and America looked rather worried when I left the building.”

Wanda groans, but follows Agatha’s lead. “Yes, I suppose so. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it. I nearly harmed two of the kids - Fury’s going to kill me.”

“He’s not, actually,” Agatha retorts calmly, offering Wanda her hand as they start walking. “When I was leaving, he had checked the training room and was genuinely impressed that you subconsciously corrected anything your magic did when your mind started doing whatever the hell it was doing. He did indicate that he wanted to talk to you about what happened, but mostly because he has a theory of what it means.”

“What does he think?” Wanda asks warily, and Agatha sighs. She gives Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze, and looks out toward the campus building.

“Fury is…concerned that you, specifically, may be this maniac’s next target.”

Chapter Text

“I mean, it’s nothing that another round of ‘falling into the wrong hands, someone screwing with my brain, almost losing everyone I love, nearly dying, and then narrowly escaping with another mountain of nightmare fuel I have to unpack’ won’t fix, right?”

Wanda’s been making jokes like this since the training incident a few weeks ago, since learning about the severity of the predicament they’re in, and she can tell Rebecca is about to comment on it. The therapist drops her chin to her palm on her desk, slowly, her eyes never leaving Wanda’s face. “You know, Wanda, you’re allowed to openly express how you’re feeling about this. Especially in here. Our conversations don’t leave this room, unless I feel like you’re in immediate danger.”

Wanda averts her gaze, expression dropping almost immediately. She curses how fucking small she sounds in her next words. “I don’t think I can put how I feel into words. It’s…there’s so much of it, and it’s a mess. I -” When she glances at Rebecca next, she can feel herself blink back the slightest sting of tears threatening to fall. “I never asked for any of this. I never wanted it. I just wanted my family.”

She almost ducks away from the softness in Rebecca’s gaze, but she can’t, not as the woman offers, “Rarely in life do we choose the adversity you’ve faced, but you’ve come back from it so many times that it’s no wonder you’re so tired.”

“Then how do I get through this? Because I am exhausted,” Wanda whispers, and Rebecca inhales slowly. The therapist rises, crosses the room to sit beside Wanda on the couch. She offers her hand, palm-up, and Wanda takes it without another word. All she can do is wait.

“Use the skills we’re building, and don’t be ashamed to lean on the people who want to help you. It’s going to take a long time to work through everything else. Don’t isolate yourself.” Rebecca squeezes her hand, and Wanda feels herself relax on instinct. “But you’re out on time for today, sweetheart. You can come by later if you need, or call me, if things get rough and Agatha isn’t within range to help.”

Her eyes are gentle, but her words are firm. Wanda isn’t about to argue, and nods wordlessly. The words ring in her head as she exits the office and heads down the hall.

Don’t isolate yourself.

Easier said than done…maybe.

“Wanda!”

She turns at the callout, smiling a little as Kate jogs up to her. Clint’s protege looks disheveled - Wanda has come to learn that “disheveled” is a perpetual state of existence for Kate Bishop, but it works for her - but intent. Her eyes are bright, concerned, and she stops directly in front of Wanda, breathing hard. She must have jogged the entire way over here.

“Hi, Kate. What’s up?”

Kate speaks between pants, voice clear. “There’s somebody here to see you - she’s in the briefing room with Fury. I have no idea who she is, but she says she’s from something called the TVA - something timeline related? We told her you were in a therapy session, when she got here about fifteen minutes ago, and she said she’d wait.”

Wanda furrows her brows, racking her brain. TVA…the name doesn’t ring a bell, but “timeline” raises the hairs on the back of her neck. Because “timeline” tends to go hand in hand with a few other words that spike Wanda’s anxieties…such as “multiverse,” and “incursion.”

This is relevant to their mission.

Wanda nods her head shortly at Kate. “Let’s go. Where’s Agatha?”

Kate winces a little as they start walking. “Uh…nobody’s told her yet. She was supervising school stuff for the teens last I checked, but that was at…eleven, I think?” She glances at Wanda hesitantly. “Want me to go get her? I don’t know if she’s finished up with the high-schooler stuff yet, but I can check.”

Wanda shakes her head, a grin forming on her face. “I got it.”

Aye! Are you still teaching?

Agatha’s response is instantaneous, dry, but calm. Nope. We got through so much in two hours that they actually don’t have anything to do tomorrow. What’s up?

Wanda tries to control her psychic tone, staying as calm as she can. Um…I’m not sure what this is about, but Bishop just came to grab me about some lady from the TVA in the briefing room with Fury? I’m not actually sure what the TVA is, but…she was looking for me specifically.

It takes a moment for her lover to respond, but in the wait, Wanda can feel the curiosity. Suddenly - Agatha’s reply is sharp, commanding, and final. Don’t go anywhere with her until I get there. I’ll be there in less than five.

Wanda bites back a chuckle, but Kate catches it and glances over at her. A grin takes over the archer’s face, and Wanda can’t help but smile back. “What?”

“Nothing major,” Kate hums, feigning nonchalance. “But I’m presuming you told Agatha, and she’s going to meet us there, and she probably told you not to do anything until she gets there if we reach the briefing room first.”

Wanda stops, just for a moment, and raises her eyebrows. “You got that from me trying not to laugh?”

Kate’s grin softens, and she tilts her head thoughtfully. “Wands, she would literally find a way to move an entire solar system around if you asked her to. Even when I’m working with her on arrows and stuff, or when I’m helping her out with the teens and their coursework, you’re the first thing on her mind. It’s not difficult to guess what she said, because if she thinks something threatens you — she’s going to run at it headfirst if impulsivity is an okay option.”

Wanda blinks, hard, and looks away. Her cheeks burn, but she can’t stop smiling even with a familiar stinging behind her eyes. “I guess you have a point.”

They reach the briefing room in record time, but Agatha is already meeting Wanda at the doorway from the other end of the hall. “They’re not taking you.”

“We don’t know that they are,” Wanda reassures quietly, gripping her hand. “This has to be about Doom, about what’s coming. We’ll figure it out. She was willing to wait for my session to end - that has to be good, right? Usually people with an agenda don’t extend such courtesy.”

“What the fuck do you mean, you need her to come with you?” Agatha snarls through gritted teeth, hand clamping around Wanda’s wrist protectively. B-15 sighs, shifting her weight. She’s a bold enough woman, Agatha would be fine with her…if she weren’t trying to drag Wanda to the TVA with her.

“It’s not pruning, we don’t do that now,” B-15 emphasizes, crossing her arms. “She’ll come back as if no time has passed. I’ve got someone she needs to talk to, and we might be giving some tips on people who need to stay with your team temporarily while Doom is handled. We don’t usually do this, it’s very unorthodox and breaking all kinds of protocol, but I believe our Time-Keeper has decided that multiversal damage is less critical than total multiversal destruction. Doom could well come after us at the TVA to reach his goals, but either way we’d like to be prepared to unite everyone. Our Time-Keeper can’t meet with Ms. Maximoff directly, he can’t leave his designated space, but we’ve developed a way to astral project, sort of. He’s actually looking forward to you joining her for this, Harkness. Said it’s ’been a while.’”

Agatha stills, and Fury arches a brow at her. “Harkness, you got something to tell the room?”

Wanda glances over at her, curiosity in her eyes. Agatha looks confused, but also slightly - shocked. “How would you know this Time-Keeper person?”

“Depends on who he is,” she replies, watching B-15 carefully. Her mind is racing, flipping through possible acquaintances and associates like cards in a deck, never quite putting the right face to the possibility. “Fury, I’m not sure. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to find out. We’ve got extra rooms, don’t we?”

“How many more people are we talking?” Fury asks slowly, glancing at B-15 with a little concern in his face. She half-smiles at him.

“Could I assume you have space if I say you need, say…four to five rooms?”

Fury wrinkles his nose, very clearly calculating in his head, but Agatha’s faster and it makes Wanda chuckle quietly as her lover speaks first. “We’ve got eight or nine extra rooms, actually, so this is perfect. I don’t tend to pick up strays, but if things are this dire —”

“I don’t see you wearing a Director badge!” Fury yelps, but he’s got a twinkle in his eye that immediately disarms Agatha before she can bite back. The old man turns to B-15 with a nod. “We can make that happen. If you can drop Maximoff and Harkness back off about an hour from now instead of instantly, though, it would be much easier for me to assign a crew for preparing those rooms. They, ah — they’re a little afraid of Harkness.”

“In my defense, Fury,” Agatha drawls, flipping her hair, “I do not need a cleaning crew. Red over there is a complete masochist, insists on cleaning by hand, and I had three years of housewife retraining.”

Wanda groans, pinching the bridge of her nose with the hand Agatha doesn’t have a vice grip on. She glances at B-15 with tired, imploring eyes. “I never thought I’d ask, but can we please go now?”

B-15 cracks a smile, a real one, and huffs out a small laugh. “You got it.”

She waves the lighted stick she’s holding, and an oddly door-shaped portal opens beside her. As she gestures, Wanda reaches for Agatha’s hand when —

“Wanda, wait! We’re coming with you!”

Wanda whips around, freezes, and sighs. Billy and Tommy are standing in the doorway, Billy panting but Tommy’s striding forward, eyes locked on Wanda’s with an intensity that startles her. Her chest tightens. “Boys, we don’t know what we’re getting into, and I’m not risking throwing you into danger just yet, I’d feel much better if you didn’t come along this time. Rebecca’s still here, please go stay with her.”

Tommy stops just shy of arm’s reach. His eyes dart to the portal, to B-15, to Agatha’s sharp gaze. His voice drops to a near whisper as he leans in. “I don’t like this. It’s not her, it just…it doesn’t feel right, at least not with just you two going. What if something happens and you need backup?”

Agatha’s lip twitches, the faintest smirk of pride showing. “Not a bad idea, but I’m not taking anyone who doesn’t have a high school diploma. I will not be endangering my little miscreants today, and that includes you.”

“Touching though that is when it’s coming from you, Hagatha,” Tommy drawls in response, earning a bigger smirk, “you’re still not going alone. Either we go or you bring someone else along.”

Wanda glances at B-15, who shrugs and adds her own thoughts. “He’s not wrong. Our security has been tight since the threat started, but it’s not perfect.”

“We’ll go,” Carol says from the doorway, and Wanda raises her eyebrows and grins as she turns her head to look. Kate and Yelena are flanking her, already carrying their own gear. Carol actually seems slightly hesitant in her next words, a trace of raw vulnerability under the confident facade. “I’d — would we be able to locate a friend of mine and Kamala’s? Monica, Captain Monica —”

“Rambeau,” Wanda finishes softly, recognition spreading through her and settling somewhere a little heavier. Carol blinks hard and steps into the room.

“Wait, how - you know Monica?”

Wanda smiles sadly and nods, gaze dropping to the floor. “She - used to work for SWORD. She managed to help me through something after we all came back from the Blip, stopped Tyler Hayward from being too much of a piece of shit, and it always bothered me a little that we didn’t reconnect.”

Carol’s smile is faint, voice rough. “So you’re the witch she got the light-based power from.”

“I have no idea how I did it,” Wanda whispers. “I never meant to.” She looks up, determination in her chest. “I don’t know why you’re having to look for her, but if something is wrong, I am completely in on finding her. We should go. Do we need to bring Kamala?”

“No kids,” Carol replies immediately, firmly. “Absolutely no kids with us this time.”

Wanda nods, glancing at B-15. “We’re in. Can they come along?”

B-15 nods, clearly holding back a smirk. “The Time-Keeper will only see Maximoff and Harkness, but you three can be present as long as no trouble comes out of you. And Danvers - I know what you’re referring to. You might find some information while you’re here. I do know your Monica Rambeau’s approximate location, but that is something we’ll have to get into once we’re at the TVA.” B-15 gestures to the door. “Now, are we going?”

Wanda can’t help it, and she lets out a chuckle. Agatha raises a brow, her lips twitching into a smirk as she grasps Wanda’s hand just a little tighter. She speaks first, addressing the ragtag crew and B-15.

“Let’s go.”