Chapter Text
Wanda is fine.
At least, everyone is going to believe she’s fine, damn it. No matter what it takes. Wanda’s fine. Everything is good.
Wanda Maximoff is not phased by the fact that her childhood assailant has been spotted less than ten miles from the cabin she’s spending spring break at. Nope. Nuh-uh. Definitely not worried. He hasn’t seen her in almost ten years, and she’s grown up. Her hair has gone more red than it was when she was twelve. She’s grown taller - not by much, but it’s something. She’s still underweight (and she’s well aware, thank you very fucking much), but she’s developed and doesn’t look like the same child who left youth group crying and in pain the night she and Pietro ran away from the Proctors.
Victor could never recognize her now.
(Could he?)
She shakes the thought out of her mind as she grips the porcelain sink under her hands, knuckles white, and watches the water she just splashed over her face swirl away into the drain. She meets her own gaze in the mirror, chest heaving slightly, and winces at the pallor of her skin, and the haunted look in her eyes. She releases her grip on the sink and reaches up, gently patting her face, trying to bring some color back before she returns to the group.
Agatha and Natasha have been watching her like fucking hawks since yesterday morning. Wanda can almost certainly assume (correctly) that Agatha found out - whether she decided to check, or just saw something in Wanda’s eyes, it doesn’t matter. And if Agatha knows, the chance of Natasha knowing is non-zero. The girls might not be aware, or if they are, they’ve been surprisingly quiet about it. But Natasha occasionally forgets that Yelena is an adult now too, and can handle the information.
(Even if Yelena is still very insistent and passionate about refuting whatever Wanda’s head is telling her.)
Wanda has done her best. She’s constantly schooled her face to look calm, made a conscious effort to speak and appear as cheery as she was yesterday. She cooked dinner by herself this evening, after a busy day of trails and finding fun activities in town, and made sure she ate enough that the two older women stopped glancing at her in their periphery.
(It doesn’t count that she purged last night, for the first time in over a week, or that she was just doing it again moments ago. It doesn’t. Because Wanda says it doesn’t, even though she knows that logic is childish.)
So far, Wanda is playing the role quite well, in her opinion. She knows she’s masking, and she knows it’s going to bite her that much harder later. But she can’t delve into it right now. She is not going to ruin this trip for anyone else.
(They didn’t just plan it for her, and she knows that very well. It’s not about her, and she can make it fine. She doesn’t need to be so selfish.)
She blinks, hard, a good several times, and takes a deep breath before turning up her lips and putting her content face back on. She's exhausted, but they won’t know. Nobody will know.
(She’s reticent to admit that for the first time in years, she forced herself to stay in constant half-sleep last night. She tried to sleep, at first, but the memories came distorted, nightmarish, and caused her to wake within a few hours with her hand clapped over her own mouth. She can’t let them see this.)
They’re about to settle in for a movie before turning in for the night. Kate won the almost pathetically competitive rock-paper-scissors fight between the three younger women, and has chosen the Jumanji reboot film. The rest of the group is waiting in the living room - Wanda has to get back out there, and has to survive the rest of the evening.
She doesn’t want to pull the “extra” blade from her luggage again - she hated herself for even packing it on Friday, and the vivid memory of what she did to herself last night stings more than the evidence itself. But it might be how her evening ends.
Just a couple more hours.
You fucking suck at this, Maximoff.
As she quietly pads back into the living room, she smiles softly at Kate and Yelena, who are sitting on the floor in front of the couch with a giant bowl of popcorn and M&Ms. Kate beams back. “There she is! Let’s do this.”
Wanda chuckles, stepping into the room and heading towards the couch. Yelena swipes at her, trying to grasp her hand and drag her to the floor, but Wanda dodges her and laughs. “No thanks, that couch seats three, it’s a waste if I don’t sit there!”
“That is a very roundabout way to say you want to sit next to me, doll,” Agatha smirks playfully, and Wanda rolls her eyes and grins back.
“If that’s what you’re telling yourself.”
Kate starts the movie, and Wanda takes the hint. She settles on the couch beside Agatha, nearly yelping when the older woman snags her around the waist and tugs, patting the pillow she’s set on her legs. With an amused scoff, Wanda shakes her head and obliges, lowering herself to lay her head on the pillow.
I can do this. I can act normal. They’re off my case for now.
They’re not as stupid as you, though. Are you really going to let them touch you when they could just know?
Just. Stop.
It’s your mind.
“You have such long eyelashes. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed before.” Agatha’s murmured voice breaks Wanda from her internal struggle, which has surprisingly lasted ten minutes or so, rife with guilt, and the compliment makes her stomach flip. She lets a shy smile cross her face, and looks away towards the TV.
“Thanks, I just wish they were a little thicker,” she mumbles in response, only chastising the stupidity of what she’s just said for a second, and tries not to sigh as Agatha’s fingers slip through the strands of hair behind her ear. Beside Agatha, Natasha smirks at the pair of them, but Wanda doesn’t notice.
“You look comfortable,” Natasha says in a low, teasing tone, making Agatha huff out a laugh. Wanda hums, but her face flushes, and the anxiety starts to creep in at the attention. She starts to curl in on herself, pulling herself slightly out of Agatha’s lap, but the older woman lays her free hand on Wanda’s shoulder and rubs her thumb soothingly, with grounding pressure.
“It’s okay, honey, you know Nat’s just playing. You can stay here if you’re content.” Agatha’s voice breaks through the fog of fear clouding her mind, but Wanda forces herself to smile slightly up at her.
“I know. Thank you.” She looks over to Natasha, whose smirk has softened, and the older woman reaches out and strokes a finger down the side of Wanda’s cheek. “We do this sometimes. Or rather, she decides I need attention or something like that.”
“You don’t seem to mind,” Natasha husks, eyes glancing between her sister and Agatha. Wanda hums softly and turns back to the movie, exhaling slowly.
I can do this.
The movie passes slowly, just enough that Wanda actually begins to feel herself relax, genuinely. Between the lack of sleep last night and the feeling of Agatha’s warm fingers passing through her hair, Wanda is nearly asleep by the climax of the film. She’s just relaxed enough that she’s not startled when Agatha murmurs, close to her ear, “Do you want to go to bed?”
She just offered you a way out early. Someone finally pitied you. You’d be ungrateful not to take it.
But I’m comfortable right here.
They’re going to see it, stupid. They’re going to know you lied to them, and you’re going to hurt them.
If I go to bed, I’m going to be alone. And it’ll be nightmares.
Oh, suck it up and stop whining. You don’t deserve to be comforted. Stop playing the victim.
“Not yet,” Wanda mumbles in reply, hand moving to squeeze the knee closest to her chin. “Don’t wanna be alone yet.”
Fuck. That…that’s not what I meant to say. I was trying not to say that.
Surprisingly, in spite of the bubbling panic in her chest, her mind is quiet. Quiet enough that she can hear Agatha exhale softly before her fingers resume their movements through Wanda’s hair.
They say nothing else, allowing the movie to end in relative silence - compared to the laughter and carrying on from everyone else, anyway. At last, Kate stands and stretches. “Well, off to bed for me, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”
“Ugh, college has made you act so old, Katie,” Yelena groans, but she’s grinning as she stands too. The two of them bid everyone else good night and are gone as quickly as they stood. Natasha isn’t far behind, kissing the side of Wanda’s head as she heads to her room, leaving Agatha and Wanda on the couch.
To Wanda’s surprise, Agatha doesn’t immediately push her off and get up. Instead, her fingers continue moving, and she looks at the decorations on the walls instead of at Wanda. When she speaks, she actually sounds faintly hesitant. “Do…do you want to talk about it?”
Wanda shifts a little, turning her body to fully look up at her friend. “You usually don’t give me an option, you know.”
Agatha sighs, deeply, her gaze deep and simultaneously empty all at once as she looks at the black screen of the powered-off television. “I know, but you’ve been very obviously and very clearly trying to keep it together. And I can’t decide, given our current location and company, whether prying it out of you would just make it worse. So, if you’d like to talk about it tonight, I’m here to listen. But if you’d prefer to be distracted from it…”
“I’ll take the distraction,” Wanda breathes quickly, too fast, but she doesn’t care. “This is going to sound nosy, but it’s been something I’ve wanted to ask you…what was your life like, before Rio?”
She catches Agatha’s eyes flickering down to her, barely hiding surprise, before another sigh escapes her. “I wondered if you would end up asking me about this, honestly. Not exactly something I was looking forward to, but…I guess it’s necessary, isn’t it?”
Wanda feels a pang of guilt, and she reaches up to catch Agatha’s hand before it can continue its ministrations in her hair. “Agatha. You don’t have to tell me. If it’s too much or something you just don’t want to talk about, I mean. I just…guess it’s a curiosity thing?”
Agatha’s eyes, when they drop to her own, hold so much weight, but so much strength all at once. “I don’t mind, honey. It’s not my favorite story to tell, but I’m okay going there. I was…” she takes a struggling, deep breath, and speaks as straight as she can, clearly. “I was raised in a fundamentalist cult, and it’s something I’m still undoing a lot of over a decade later.”
Wanda’s eyes widen, and her heart clenches at the idea. She’s not a stranger to organized religion being used as a means to control, and while she’s not open to telling Agatha this, one of her scars from under a steeple is threatening to bleed again. The only thing she can whisper is a quiet, “oh.”
“Yes, you heard it correctly. I was the only surviving birth, and my mother wasn’t able to have more children after me. My father died when I was three, but I remember almost nothing about him. Mother never remarried - nobody in the church was single by that point. My mother hated me. I asked too many questions. I came up with ways to complete chores that didn’t match the exact outline for how she wanted them done. If I didn’t behave exactly as she asked, I was beaten. If needed, she’d take me to the church elders who bitched me out, then take me home and do the beating. When I was sixteen, she started trying to force me to marry some elder in the church who was twice my age. I said no so many times, she nearly beat me to the point of breaking a few bones, a neighbor happened to be walking by and called it in.”
Wanda’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and her chest tightens again. “What - what happened when the police came?”
“I got out,” Agatha says simply, looking away again. “The neighbor was Lilia. When I said I’ve known her a long time, I meant it. She was my little witchy neighbor Mother never let me visit, not even with tracts on the stupid ministry walks or whatever. She saw my mother basically attempting to kill me, called it in, tried to knock on the door. Mother freaked out, police came, she fought police, got shot in the mess, died still trying to fight them. It was like she snapped. Lilia offered to take me in, since I was almost too old to be a ward of the state. She…she’s been through all of this with me. I owe that woman my life. She doesn’t seem to think so, but I do.”
The emotion must be showing too plainly in Wanda’s face, because when Agatha looks down at her again, her brow scrunches and she reaches to smooth away the frown lines on Wanda’s forehead. “Don’t make that face. I’m here, aren’t I? It took a lot for me to get here, but I’m growing more pleased by the day that I made it. I wouldn’t have met you otherwise.”
Wanda’s face flushes, and her eyes dart away. “I’m glad you’re here, for what it’s worth. Although it wouldn’t have made much difference whether you’d met me or not, at least not then.”
“Mmm, not back then,” Agatha hums softly, and Wanda catches the faintest twinkle in those captivating eyes from her own side glance. “But you and the three other women in this cabin are important to me, and I don’t think I’d ever go back and undo it if given the chance.”
Wanda doesn’t have a retort, but the emotions swirling in her gut are threatening to push everything else to the surface. And she’s not about to let that happen, so she stretches ever so slightly in Agatha’s lap before pushing herself abruptly to sitting, then standing. The black spots dancing in the corners of her vision feel like they’re mocking her, and her head spins, but she fights for a moment to blink herself back into steadiness.
Agatha is at her side in less than a breath, gently holding her by the elbow and the waist, watching her face intently. “Whoa, superstar, are you good?”
“I - I’m fine,” Wanda stammers weakly, but the tremor in her voice gives away how unsteady her body feels. “I’m just tired. We should probably get to bed, shouldn’t we?”
She’s not sure, but she thinks she can see Agatha’s face falling just a bit. The older woman sighs, her thumb slowly rubbing circles on Wanda’s upper arm, as she gently tugs Wanda closer by the waist and wraps her in a hug. Wanda doesn’t resist, and she can tell Agatha is initially surprised when Wanda buries her face in the older woman’s neck. In her ear, she can hear Agatha murmuring.
“You know where I am if you need me, hot stuff. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here, and I can see that you’re having a worse time than you’re letting on. If you need someone, you know where to find me. Understood?”
Wanda says nothing, but nods.
Unknown Number:
I’ve missed our little evenings…
You would have made a perfect wife.
But now, you’re nothing but a liability.
Tell me, Wanda: haven’t you any shame, parading yourself around after letting your brother die?
You have two options, dear.
Either you lose every worldly thing you have, including the people you love. Or…you come to me willingly, allow me to make sure that pretty mouth of yours isn’t lying about me to trigger-happy community helpers.
I always knew you’d become an abomination without me to guide you…look at the people you choose to call family. Look at YOU. You had a chance. Not anymore.
Your time of judgment has come.
I’ll see you soon.
Wanda’s hands are trembling uncontrollably, she has to do something, she can’t fucking move, she has to face him again, she’s going to die, Natasha and Yelena are going to die, Kate, Agatha…
The door to her bedroom slowly creaks open.
-
Wanda jolts awake with a shriek, hand clapped over her mouth to stop the volume. Her chest hurts, and maybe it’s just her erratic heartbeat, but the fear pierces her mind. It was just a nightmare, but…did someone hear?
How did I fall asleep? I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep, fuck fuck fuck, someone is…
Knock knock.
Wanda freezes, pulse hammering in her chest, breath stopping for a moment. No. No. It can’t be.
Knock knock.
“Wanda?” The voice is soft, but strong, and distinctly feminine.
Oh.
“Sweetheart, are you okay? Can I come in?”
“Y-yes,” Wanda calls back quietly, not even trying to hide the stuttering. “You can come in.”
The door creaks open, and mercifully, as expected, it’s just Agatha. The oversized sleep shirt and pants she’s wearing look unfairly soft and comfortable, her hair is wild, but in this light, she could either pass for a beautiful apparition or Wanda’s saving grace.
“I couldn’t sleep - I had a feeling,” Agatha says softly as she steps into the room, noiselessly closing the door behind her and making her way to the bed. “And I could hear you. You weren’t loud, but you’ve been making noise. And it wasn't a happy noise. I wasn’t sure if you would wake up and come find me, so I thought I would come to you first.”
Wanda has every intention of blaming it on the hour of the night, and her lack of sleep, later on. But for now, she’s not going to pinpoint blame for why her eyes are filling with tears, why she wants to pull Agatha into her bed and throw herself into the older woman’s arms, why she suddenly wants nothing more than to fall asleep next to this woman every night because she knows it would help them both. She’s not going to search for the reason why she’s feeling this way, because it’s the middle of the night, she’s exhausted, her heart is all over the place, and she’d rather just lean into it. So she nods without words, and Agatha takes the hint.
“He found me,” she whispers, as Agatha slips under the covers on the other side of the bed. “In my nightmare, I mean. He didn’t show up, not in person. But he had my number. He knew about all of you. I was a threat to his freedom, he claimed, because I never came forward but I still could. I - I know it was a dream, but it felt…” she trails off helplessly, lower lip quivering with the threat of bursting into tears, before she’s in Agatha’s arms and being lowered back onto the mattress.
“I’m here, superstar. It was just a bad dream. And you know what? Even if he somehow did find you, do you really think anyone is a match for the two women you call sisters? Are they not both well-trained in martial arts and weapons handling?”
“Technically, I have a little training in both as well, but not to their level,” Wanda replies. “I just…I don’t want anyone else to have to…”
“We’re in this with you,” Agatha cuts her off in a low, no-nonsense murmur, pulling the younger woman closer to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Whether you think you deserve it or not. We’ve got you, pretty girl, and that isn’t changing. I’m determined to let you actually sleep, since I know you haven’t for a good day or two now. Are you going to at least let me try to help?”
After a deep, shuddering breath, Wanda exhales and nods silently. With a quiet sniffle, she buries her face back into Agatha’s sleep shirt and focuses solely on the sound of Agatha softly humming into her hair for a while. She’s not certain of the melody, not that it matters, but her mind is too zoned in on the presence surrounding her - violets and lavender and the warmth she never wants to admit she feels when she’s not fighting Agatha’s intentions. It soothes her, dare she admit it, in a way that all the physical pain in the world couldn’t quite match. The care she’s being shown mirrors a life Wanda still can’t imagine is even remotely possible for her, not after the life she’s lived.
But damn it, she wouldn’t mind trying. The risk is still massive, to her, and finding her peace just to lose it would be the end of her. (Although, Natasha is right, as always; Wanda’s well aware her current coping mechanisms are dangerous, she’s known this entire time. She knows that continuing this path will almost certainly be the end of her short life.)
“Agatha?”
“Hm?” Agatha’s voice is still low, soft, intended to soothe but in her own way, which still sounds a bit like she’s teasing. Wanda tries to clear her head; she’s not sure what she intends to say, but it’s burning on the edge of her tongue.
So naturally, she freezes, as she pulls back a little and looks up at Agatha, who’s peering at her in the darkness with a sleepy, curious gaze. “I - ” She stops, cursing herself for being unable to continue.
Agatha doesn’t seem to need the explanation, though. Something must be showing in Wanda’s face.
“Sweetheart,” Agatha murmurs, pulling Wanda back to her mind with a thumb brushing her cheek. “Not like this. Not tonight. Not as a distraction from what your mind is doing to you.”
Wanda’s aching, fluttering heart sinks, then picks up again as Agatha adds, “Maybe in the future, if you still want it. When the voice in your head isn’t trying to drag you under, when that piece of shit is caught, when therapy is working and you can breathe.”
Honestly, Agatha’s slight rambling is adorable. But Wanda needs to ask, so with a tremor in her voice, she does. “Is that something you want and would wait for? I don’t know how long this all is going to take.”
Agatha huffs, but it’s good-natured, and she leans in to plant a kiss on Wanda’s forehead, speaking her next words with her lips still pressed against the younger woman’s skin. “I can wait.”
Wanda closes her eyes automatically at the contact, unable to stop a faint smile from forming on her face. “So…if not that, do you have other distractions? I…I’m actually really tired. But my mind - it won’t shut up. Especially not now.”
Agatha tilts her head as their eyes meet. “Not going to kick me out, then?”
“Would you go if I tried?”
Agatha’s voice is no-nonsense, yet playful. “Mm, nope, not a chance. Can’t fool me. I am quite pleased that you asked, though. Good girl. I have one…but you can’t laugh. It’s a lullaby I found once that I sang to Nicky for a while. It worked better than I could have expected, too.”
Wanda looks at her, really looks, and sees the hesitant vulnerability etched in Agatha’s features. It warms her even more than the previous affection did, and she can’t help but smile as she snuggles back in and mumbles, “We can try it. I’m not going to laugh.”
She hears Agatha exhale, almost sounding relieved, then fingers carding through her hair as the older woman starts singing.
“There’s an axolotl on the pink stairs; is an axolotl s’posed to be there? If you ask an axolotl if they’ll be back tomorrow, a penguin waddles in, and then the axolotl’s gone…”
“I know this,” Wanda whispers with a grin. “I think Kate showed it to the Barton kids, and now the two older kids sing it to the baby all the time.”
Agatha hums, pleased, and continues the song.
“There’s an axolotl on the lawn chair; is an axolotl s’posed to be there? If you ask an axolotl if they’ll be back tomorrow, a penguin waddles in, and then the axolotl’s gone…”
It’s working, and Wanda doesn’t have the wherewithal to question how. She relaxes, faster than she’s realized, most traces of her nightmare and the pain of the last days forgotten for a moment.
“There’s an axolotl at the front door; is that what the Welcome sign is there for? If you ask an axolotl if they’ll be back tomorrow, a penguin waddles in, and then they both sing you a song.”
Wanda’s exhausted, overwhelmed body finally caves in, but thankfully not in the path of destruction but in one of rest and surrender - even if just for a little while. She barely registers the next lines, Agatha’s voice softening with each line. But the last part rings in her mind as she falls asleep, and the feeling of being safe - once foreign, but gradually more familiar even in these last months - is the most prominent sensation as everything goes blissfully dark.
“We’ll see you tomorrow.”