Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s not working.”

“Of course it’s not working, you’re doing it all wrong.”

“I’m doing it exactly how you told me to!”

Goddess, teenagers are such a pain in the ass to deal with. Agatha misses small, kid Billy, who would curl up against her side and fall asleep on her. But now all she has is a teenage emo twink who can’t even comprehend simple instructions.

“Your hands,” she jabs him with a finger, using extra force that makes him wince. “You gotta flick your wrists, not twirl them around like Elsa trying to make Olaf.”

Billy groans and drops his hands. “I am twirling them! I’m twirling them like I’ve never twirled before. Have you seen such twirly hands?” He twists his hands in a way that makes Agatha wonder if cuffing him up and throwing him back into a closet is an acceptable reaction.

“Alright kid, shut up.” Agatha rolls her eyes, rubbing her temple. He’s going to give her a migraine at this rate. She crosses her arm, watching him groan and flail his hands dramatically.

Emo, dramatic teenager.

She thinks of returning to the task of reorganising her spellbooks, of doing anything that’s more worth her time than babysitting a baby witch who can’t even yet grasp the basics. Billy looks at her then, and he bites his lips in a somewhat guilty expression.

“I’m… sorry, but I’m really trying–”

Manipulation. He’s definitely manipulating her.

“Fine,” she says with a groan. “One last time.”

His face brightens up, and she can see that he fights back a grin from the way the corner of his mouth twitches. She is so going to take a break from teaching after this.

“Alright, remember to flick. Movement is very important here.” Agatha steps closer, pushing his arm lightly to get his position correct. He swallows audibly, and she fights back a sigh. Nervousness will always be a limiting factor. “Relax, kiddo. You’ve got me here, nothing will go wrong.”

Billy looks like he might make a snarky remark, but she shoots him a look that shuts him up.

“Right, right,” he exhales and closes his eyes. Sparks of blue come to life at his fingertips, and the air is almost immediately filled with the burnt scent of powerful magick. Agatha nearly takes a step back, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. “Okay, holding it steady…”, Billy mutters to himself.

Too much.

The surrounding space is charged with too much magick for a spell as simple as making the vase float in midair. Agatha feels something twist in her gut.

“Billy,” she reaches out, but sparks of blue shock her. “Fuck.”

Billy’s breathing quickens, his fingers trembling slightly as the glow at his fingertips intensifies–too much, too fast. His eyes snap open, panic evident in them. “Agatha–”, he looks towards her, and Agatha’s stomach drops at the look on his face.

He was just a kid. He is still a kid.

He reminds her so much of Nicky–

Then, all at once, the magick shatters like glass breaking in reverse, imploding instead of exploding. Agatha is being ripped away, like something just grabbed her by the throat and yanked her soul out of her body.

Damn it, if Billy turns her into a ghost again she is not going to forgive that kid, no matter what puppy-eyed face he shows her.

“Agatha!”

The world distorts, and then–

Nothing.

“Agatha! Agatha, holy shit, are you alright? Lilia and the others are coming over right now. Agatha, please say something…”

Her head is pounding, something in her chest thumping loudly and too quickly for her comfort. Her body is weak in a way she’s never experienced before, a weird rushing sound in her ears that reminds her of rivers.

“Shut up,” she groans and jumps a little at the sound of her voice.

Agatha?

She opens her eyes, and a face that she’d recognise anywhere is the first thing she sees. Fucking hell.

“Abomination.” She tries to get up, but her legs shake and wobble, and the world spins as she moves. Great, this is amazing.

Waking up, feeling like shit, and the first thing she sees is his face. Zero out of ten experience.

She squints, trying to get the world back in place. Billy looks at her as if she’s grown a third head, or she has forgotten to wear her human skin again.

“What do you want?” She stills. That voice again–Agatha’s voice–coming out of her mouth. “What the hell?”

“Agatha, are you okay?” Billy gets close–way too close for comfort–and grabs her arm, helping her stand. “I don’t know what happened, my magick just started swelling, I think, and I couldn’t really control it. I’m really, really sorry.”

Wrong. Too close, too much.

She snaps.

Her fingers twitch first, an automatic reaction. She moves–slower, body sluggish and limbs feeling heavier than usual, but she moves.

Her hands wrap around his neck and squeeze, shutting him up. He looks at her with wide eyes, fear and uncertainty swimming in them. He tries to say something, but she tightens her fingers and he chokes and struggles, face turning blue, and she delights when she doesn’t feel the Balance stopping her from killing this brat of an abomination–

“Let him go!”

Hands wrap around her and pull her away from the boy, pinning her down to the floor. She struggles, growling and snarling at whoever dares to stop her from killing the boy and reclaiming a soul that doesn’t belong here.

“What the hell, Agatha?!” A familiar voice screams, but she’s suddenly too light-headed to take note. The thing in her chest, it’s pumping louder, faster, and there’s a feeling that’s rushing through her body that she’s never felt before–

Another hand presses down on her shoulder, gentle and oddly comforting. “Rio,” the person says firmly. “Calm down, you can’t kill the boy.”

The room falls silent.

Then, the boy speaks, uncertain. “...Rio?”

“Lilia, I know you’re kooky, but this is a bit too kooky.” She remembers that voice–the potions witch from the fake road that she had walked with Agatha. “Does this look like Rio to you?”

Where the hell is she?

“Shut up,” she rasps, trying to slow down the pumping in her chest–her heartbeat, she realises with a start. That’s not possible, she doesn’t have a heartbeat. “What did you do, boy?”

“I was practicing a spell with you, and it kinda went wrong,” he squeaks. “You’re, uh, not Agatha, are you?”

“No.”

“Well, shit.”

The potions witch’s (what’s her name again?) magick flares to life, pink and vibrant. “Alright, who are you and what did you do with Agatha?”

Rio scoffs and tries to get up, but the pair of hands on her press down harder. She turns and glares at the person, and oh, it’s another abomination that escaped her clutches. What a lovely day.

“Your divinations witch just told you, didn’t she?” She answers the question with a sigh when she realises that she currently doesn’t have the strength to break free. “‘Tis I, Lady Death, Bringer of Doom, bla bla bla.”

“So… you’re Rio?” Billy tries weakly. She shoots him a glare that has him taking a step back. “But you’re in Agatha’s body.”

“What?” Rio looks around her, searching for something that can show her reflection. The heart in her chest pumps faster again, and Goddess is she getting annoyed by all that thumping.

The witch that has been pressing her down finally relaxes her hold, and Rio squirms away from her, rising to her feet. She catches a glimpse of herself in a small mirror on a table full of random artifacts, and the blue eyes that stare back at her knocks all the air out of her lungs.

Agatha’s eyes.

She blinks. The reflection doesn’t change.

She lifts a hand. The woman in the mirror does the same.

Agatha is staring right back at her, but it’s not Agatha. It’s Rio looking into her love’s eyes again, yet it’s Rio looking back at herself.

She swallows.

From the corner of her eye, she notices the coven gather together, talking to each other in hushed voices. Rio is too busy staring into the mirror to pay attention.

Lilia is the one who steps closer to her, catching her attention. “It seems that Billy’s magick swapped you and Agatha’s bodies. We can assume that she’s in yours, and it’s best if she’s here with us. Where were you before the switch?”

Right, right. Agatha is still out there, in Lady Death’s body. Rio shudders–the switch for her was bad enough, she can only imagine how bad and disoriented the experience will be for Agatha.

“The In-Between,” Rio says. “I was guiding souls before the switch, she should be there right now.”

“Right, and how exactly do we get to this In-Between?” Jen asks.

Rio purses her lips. “We don’t. Death will be able to guide souls there, or souls of the deceased are able to find their own way to it. Living beings though, not exactly welcomed.”

“But, you’re Death.” Billy says, as if that’s going to solve all of their problems that he caused.

“I’m Death in a mortal body that is still very much alive, no thanks to you.” She snaps at him. A sliver of exasperation curls in her gut in an unfamiliar way, yet a feeling she can recognise. “I don’t even know if I can still be considered Death like this.”

Alice stands next to Jen, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Well, we have to find a way to get her. We can’t just leave her out there.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Jen shrugs.

Rio has the urge to strangle her.

“Well…” Billy stands with his arms at his sides, utterly still. “What do we do now?”

That’s a good question, and Rio is willing to sacrifice Billy to get the answers. In fact, she’s willing to sacrifice him for nothing at all right now. He makes for a lousy pet with all the trouble he stirs up. She doesn’t think she’ll ever understand why Agatha keeps him around.

“We can all sit and calm down first, then begin thinking of a solution.” Lilia says, already making her way out of the room.

Rio follows behind the rest of them, hands pressing to her chest. The heartbeat is slowing down, settling into a rhythm that she remembers spending entire nights listening to, back when she and Agatha still slept on the same bed and in each other’s arms. Something grabs the heart in her chest and squeezes.

The others settle themselves in the living room, sitting next to each other without a second thought. Rio hesitates, but her legs are already moving her to the empty seat beside Billy.

He stares as she sinks in next to him.

Rio looks around her, taking in the space. It’s been cleaned up since the last time she came in and wrecked the place, the walls and furniture replaced with ones that she’s sure Agatha has picked out herself. It’s familiar, grounding.

Agatha stares at her with a grand grin, her hands resting on her swollen belly. “I want a big shelf, flowers carved into it. Oh, and a space for my studies. And– and we need a cradle for the baby–”

“Calm down, mi amor,” Rio chuckles. “We still have time to plan it however you want.”

“You better be taking notes, Rio. I want our home to be perfect.”

“It will be, I swear.”

She blinks, snapping herself out of the memory. The squeezing feeling in her chest grows stronger, and she wonders if she’ll begin to suffocate if it persists.

“So,” Alice begins, “what spell did you use, Teen?”

Billy stiffens. His fingers twitch, and his gaze drifts from the ground to the ceiling, then to the door.

Rio narrows her eyes. “Billy,” she says, low and dangerous.

He swallows. “I was trying to levitate a vase.”

Silence.

“You body-swapped a powerful witch and Death because you were trying to levitate a vase?” Jen asks, shooting him an exasperated look.

He nods, curling into himself. The guilty expression on his face makes something curl in Rio’s gut, and she has the sudden urge to reach out and comfort him.

Her hand pats on his back once, then twice, before she quickly returns it to her lap. She ignores his wide-eyed look of awe and something more emotional.

“Maybe the spell isn’t permanent,” Alice suggests. “They might return to normal once it wears off.”

Lilia considers it for a moment, then nods. “That is likely. If Teen didn’t have the intention of switching Agatha and Rio, his magick might not hold onto the spell for as long.”

Billy breathes an audible sigh of relief. “So, we just have to wait?”

“No,” Rio shakes her head. “We don’t know how long it’ll last. Agatha isn’t Death, whether she is in my body or not. She won’t be able to perform my duties.”

Not to mention that she must be confused and all alone. The In-Between is a dark, lonely place. Nothing stays there for long, and the only one who keeps returning to it is Rio herself. Agatha shouldn’t have to experience it.

“It’s not like we can reach her right now,” Jen scoffs.

Rio tries to. She feels her soul–out of place in Agatha’s body, too dull for a mortal full of life–and tries to reach for the connection that ties them both together. Their soulbond that Agatha had muted and hid away centuries ago.

“Fuck,” she gasps, feeling nothing there. Not a single thing.

No presence, no flicker, not even the muted feeling that she had grown so used to. Absolutely nothing.

“Rio?” Alice turns to her, concern evident in her eyes.

Rio swallows. She stares at the wall, panic gripping at her. “I can’t– We have to find her, now.”

“Alright,” Billy clasps his hands together. “A séance, maybe? Lilia probably knows how to do it.”

“Sure, let’s just summon Agatha like a Victorian ghost.” Lilia deadpans. “And for the record, I don’t know how.”

“You don’t?” Jen asks, surprised. “I would assume you do, seems like it fits with your whole aesthetic.”

“I’m a divinations witch, we don’t commune with the dead!”

“Wait, wait,” Alice cuts in. “It might work, though. We can try a tiny little ritual–”

“Enough!” Rio ends up screaming, her voice cracking at the last syllable. She’s breathing weirdly, a ringing sound in her ears that she can’t seem to get rid of. She hates it, hates all of this.

She needs to know Agatha is safe. She needs Agatha here.

Billy stands abruptly. “I think she’s having a panic attack.”

A beat.

“I’m not–” Rio tries, but her breath stutters in her throat.

The ringing in her ears get louder, drowning out the world. Her hands curl into fists, nails digging into palms. There’s something pressing down on her chest, something reaching inside and squeezing the fragile heart.

“Okay, okay, you need to breathe.” Billy says quickly.

“I’m fine,” Rio growls, but her voice is shaky. Something cold crawls down her spine.

“No, you’re not,” Alice says firmly, her voice cutting through the noise. Rio barely noticed it getting noisy. Is it noisy? Maybe it’s just the ringing. “You need to slow down your breathing before you pass out.”

“I don’t need to breathe,” Rio forces out.

Rio doesn’t need to breathe, but Agatha’s body does, and it currently needs air. She squeezes her fists tighter.

She’s never felt like this before, not even when Agatha turned away and ran from, when she screamed herself hoarse as she felt Agatha burry their soulbond away.

A hand presses against her wrist, warm and solid. “Rio,” Lilia says, kneeling in front of her. “Can you feel my hand?”

Rio blinks rapidly. She nods, once.

“I need you to squeeze my hand. Breathe in with me, and count to four.”

She clenches her jaw. This is stupid. Never in her entire existence has this ever happened to her.

But she breathes in. One, two, three, four.

The air still feels wrong in her lungs, but it no longer burns.

“Good,” Lilia says softly. “Now out. One, two, three, four…”

She exhales shakily. The ringing in her ears begin to fade away, and her gaze sharpens. The coven hovers by, each with a frown on their faces. She unclenches her fists, feeling the way the muscles and skin burn.

“Well, at least the usual tactics we use to deal with Agatha still works.” Jen says after a beat of silence.

“Usual tactics?” Oh Goddess, she hates how weak her voice is.

“Agatha experiences them sometimes.” Alice explains. “It has been a while since she had one, though.”

Billy drops back onto the couch. “So, the séance idea?”

Rio tries–really tries–to keep her urge to murder the Maximoff boy to a minimum, but he’s not making it any easier with his incessant chatting. He goes from talking about school and homework to his boyfriend, then to Agatha and the coven and every other damn thing in his life.

“Agatha is apparently more of a tea person,” he says as he pulls out a few more books from Agatha’s shelves. “I always imagined her to be the type that survives on coffee. She just gives off the vibe, you know?”

She ignores him, fingers lighting up with a purple hue as she pulls a book to her from across the room. It comes flying, nearly hitting Billy in the face.

He jumps out of the way with a squeak. “Is that your magick, or is it Agatha’s? Since, ya know, it’s purple.”

“I don’t know.” She replies tersely. It doesn’t feel like her own green magick, not entirely at least, but it’s familiar with traces of herself within. She can wield it, albeit a bit shakily.

“So, what’s it like being in Agatha’s body? Is it weird? She barely sleeps sometimes, I can only imagine being super tired twenty-four-seven in her body.”

It’s weird in a way that she’s feeling so, so much all of a sudden. The irritation, the fear, the anger the pain the noise the everything–

“It’s okay.”

“Really?” He gives her a look. “You looked like you were zoning out weirdly just now. Agatha does that, and it’s usually when she thinks about Nicky.”

Rio puts the book down. “She talks about him?”

“No, not really.” Billy doesn’t look at her, busy with flipping through the spellbooks. He hums, before continuing, “She doesn’t talk about him, but I’m around her more now, enough to tell. She thinks about you too,” his voice turns quieter. “I’ve seen her stare at the azaleas outside with a look.”

Oh.

That’s somewhat comforting, she supposes, to know that Agatha hasn’t forgotten about her.

“I don’t ever want to see your face again.”

“But this is the face you fell in love with.”

“And I don’t want to see it. Not any more.”

She breathes through her nose, slow and measured.

Rio buries herself in the books, scouring through the pages for any possible way to get Agatha back.

Rio is about to kill Billy.

“It’s been twenty four hours, Teenager, and we still haven’t switched back.” She twirls a knife around in her hand, extra careful with her movements to not injure Agatha’s body. “And not to mention we still haven’t reach Agatha.”

Billy at the very least looks guilty about the whole ordeal. But if guilt is enough to bring Agatha back then she would’ve had Agatha in her arms again ages ago.

“We can try a summoning spell,” he says weakly.

Tch.

They both know it won’t work. They’re grasping at straws here–actually, straws is her being generous. They’re grasping at nothing.

The other coven members are trying their best to remain calm as they watch Rio glare holes into Billy. Agatha, as much of a bitch she is most of the time, is still a part of their coven and thus family. None of them are particularly eager to lose her, asshole or not.

“We can try to look at positive side of things,” Billy says. His nails pick at the seams of his shirt, and Rio can see his fingertips turning red. “Like, the world hasn’t collapsed yet. So that means Agatha is doing something right.”

“That’s a low bar, Billy.” Alice smiles wryly at him.

Rio grasps the knife in her hand firmly, pointing it at Billy. “Maybe the spell will end on its own if you’re dead. No more magick to keep it running.”

“Whoa–” Jen raises her hands. “No killing the boy, Agatha won’t be happy to come back to a dead teenager.”

“It might work, theorectically,” Lilia adds, and Rio shoots her an approving look.

At least someone here has some common sense.

Billy swallows hard. His eyes flick to the knife in her hand, then back to her face. The expression on his face morphs into somewhat of a pout, but Rio recognises the panic behind his eyes. She wonders how many times he’s managed to manipulate Agatha with that stupid look of his.

“You’re joking,” he laughs dryly, but his voice wavers.

Rio tilts her head.

“Alright then,” she stands with the knife in hand, a tone of finality in her voice. “Don’t move too much, Teenager. I’ll make sure to be quick.”

Chapter Text

Rio wraps her arms around Agatha, pulling her close, skin upon skin. The scent of sex and candle wax lingers in the air.

“What’s it like?” She asks.

“Hm?” Agatha turns around, facing Rio. “What is what like?”

“Being human.”

Agatha exhales, fingers absently tracing patterns on Rio’s skin. She presses herself closer, clinging onto the cool sensation of Rio’s body.

“Being human,” she echoes, burying her face in Rio’s shoulder. “I don’t know. It’s just… living. You get up, you go to sleep, and everything else in between. You try to find things that make it worth it, I suppose.”

“And what makes it worth for you?”

“Knowing my bitch of a mother is dead but I’m still alive and thriving, if I have to choose.” She laughs a little at that–a small, bitter sound. She exhales, “It’s knowing you can break, and still living anyway.”

Rio doesn’t say anything. She nods, and Agatha feels her shift–the slow brush of her thumb against Agatha’s wrist, a gentle touch.

Agatha doesn’t think Rio really understands, not in the way that she does, the way mortal humans do. She lifts her head and cups Rio’s face in her hands. Brown eyes stare back into hers.

For all that Agatha doesn’t believe in fate (she believes in herself, in pushing hard enough to make the impossible possible), she feels like this is one of those moments–one of those rare ones where you’re supposed to say something real, something vulnerable.

“You make it worth it,” she breathes.

Agatha opens her eyes to absolutely nothing.

And by nothing, she means a kind of emptiness that roots itself deep within her bones and spreads itself across her veins. No heartbeat, no breath, no warmth.

Oh, also the darkness and silence that surrounds her–a silence so complete, it feels like her thoughts are about to be swallowed as well. That’s pretty empty too.

Billy must have fucked up big time.

Agatha floats (is she floating or standing on something, she can’t really tell) and looks around her.

Nothing.

Surprise, surprise. She’s in yet another tricky situation that might or might not have a way out of because of Billy Maximoff.

She raises her hands and summon her magick, but instead of the familiar purple hue, sparks of something else comes to life. It shifts, flickers, and finally bursts in green hues. She blinks in surprise.

The weight of her body feels wrong all of a sudden–too still, too foreign.

“What?”

She jumps. The sound is unfamiliar, the way her tongue curls around the word feels wrong.

This is not her voice. No, it’s the voice of someone she’s intimately familiar with, the voice of someone that she’ll never forget.

Rio.

Agatha looks at her hands and squints. Sure enough, these hands don’t belong to her. She’s familiar with them, of course, considering they belonged inside of her once. Had her crying and begging for more and all that, but she tries to not linger on those memories.

“God–”

She clamps her mouth shut. Hearing Rio’s voice instead of her own when they haven’t seen each other for however long it has been since the road (months, almost a whole year, in fact) is disorienting, to say the least.

Okay, deep breaths. Or not.

Agatha is beginning to doubt if this body can even breathe. Although she swears Rio has breathed before, especially since she’s fallen asleep to the sound for countless nights.

Do not continue down that lane of thought.

She turns, and turns, then turns again. She looks up, looks down, squints her eyes, sends balls of green magick flying into the space around her.

Conclusion, there’s nothing at all. She’s stuck in, quite literally, a dark space.

In Rio’s body.

Oh Goddess, she’s in Rio’s body.

Does that mean Rio is in hers?

She hopes Rio hasn’t killed Billy yet.

Time moves oddly here. She isn’t quite sure how long it’s been since she woke up in a body that’s not her own, and she’s lost count of the seconds passing by for at least three times now.

Her hands tangle with her hair, tugging lightly. She groans.

Knowing those other idiots at home, it might be faster for her to search for a way out on her own rather than lie around and wait.

So she moves.

She wanders throughout the space, going nowhere in particular. The darkness seems to stretch around her, encompassing her in its embrace. It’s endless, with nothing else in sight.

She keeps walking. It doesn’t change.

No shift in pressure, no flicker of movement, no hint of direction.

The realisation itches at the back of her mind–no matter how far she goes, she’s going nowhere.

She’s going to make Billy pay her therapy bills if she develops a fear of the dark after this experience.

In the end, she gives up, sinking to the ground.

Bullshit.

Agatha Harkness does not give up.

If this is some elaborate plan of Billy’s to get rid of her, then she’ll definitely show up in front of him again out of spite. And she’s going to buy a shit ton of ice cream with his money.

Agatha sits, legs crossed, and focuses.

She reaches inside of her–her soul, not Rio’s body because that'll be kinda weird–and pulls. It’s there, whatever is left of the soulbond between her and Rio. Weak, but there. Her hands begin to glow a green and purple hue, magick mixing together in a way that lights up the abyss surrounding her.

It fuels her body with a warmth she didn’t realise that she was missing.

“–Teenager, I’ll be sure to be quick.”

Rio.

Not exactly Rio. That’s Agatha’s voice, but it’s most definitely Rio speaking.

Agatha grasps onto the bond with her magick. The surrounding void seems to come to life at that moment, trembling and warping. Tendrils wrap around her, holding her down. It pushes back against her magick, attempting to put it out. She lets out a snarl–a sound that surprises herself–and hangs onto her magick with all her might.

All of a sudden, the magick explodes in blinding lights, crackling and thundering across the abyss.

“...Agatha?”

She opens her eyes and the first thing she sees is Billy. His mouth is wide open, eyes slightly watery as he stares at her like she’s the eight wonder of the world.

“Oh, it worked!” She huffs, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “I was gonna go insane over there.”

Billy wavers, and for a second Agatha thinks he’s going to collapse to the floor. But he crosses the distance in two long strides and falls promptly into her arms.

Warm.

His body is warm. A human sort of warmth that makes her feel alive.

“Aww,” she coos, “did you miss me that much?”

Billy shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again. She sighs and pats him on the back.

“What took you so long, Harkness?”

Agatha turns to the right and sees Jen standing there, hands stretched out in a position that makes her think Jen was just about to attack someone.

“It wasn’t exactly a holiday, Jenny.” Agatha rolls her eyes.

She removes Billy from her, taking in the rest of the coven. They’re all relieved to see her, that much is obvious–Alice exhales a sigh of relief, and Lilia sinks into the armchair she’s sitting in–and she must admit that it isn’t so bad to see them as well. Until she turns around and sees–

Herself.

Her own face, her own body.

Which is weird. Uncanny. Because she’s sure she’ll never look like that–eyes wide, lips trembling, body shaking, looking like she’s one minute away from suffocating to death.

A weird feeling grips her then.

It starts out in her chest, then spreads to the rest of her body. A light thumping sound can be heard if she really, really tries to listen–it’s a rhythm, a beat, a pulse. She opens her mouth and breathes. The air burns, and her lungs ache.

She inhales, gulps in a mouthful of air as she stares at Rio–at Agatha Harkness’s body.

Her knees buckle and she crashes to the ground, hand fisting her chest. It hurts, an ache that wraps itself around her heart. And fuck, everything seems so loud and so bright all of a sudden. She groans, squeezing her eyes shut.

The feeling is horrible, overwhelming, and Agatha thinks this might make it to the list of top ten worst things she’s ever experienced in her life.

A pair of arms wrap around her, pulls her close, and someone breathes against the skin on her neck. A whine escapes her lips before she can stop it, quiet and desperate. She doesn’t mean to cling, but she sinks into the embrace almost immediately–oddly familiar, even though she’s sure this particular person has never held her before, but Rio’s body clearly remembers the sensation and she instinctively leans in for more.

“I’ve got you, mi vida, I’ve got you…” Rio whispers, hands threading through Agatha’s hair as she tries to melt herself in Rio’s embrace. “It’s alright now, just breathe.”

Easy for Rio to say, considering that Agatha’s body breathes like any normal person does.

“Your body sucks,” she chokes out. “You need a trip to the hospital.”

“My body isn’t alive, Agatha.”

No, it’s not. That certainly explains the utter nothingness she feels in that weird void moments ago.

But now, she feels so alive she can barely breathe.

She remembers how she would fall asleep to the sound of Rio’s heartbeat, to the steady rise and fall of Rio’s chest, back before…all this.

“You’ve always felt alive to me,” Agatha says, a quiet confession.

Rio stiffens, and she pulls back slightly. Agatha whines again, missing the warmth of her body. It’s embarrassing, and she nearly cries out in relief when she looks up and sees that the rest of the coven are gone, leaving the space for the two of them.

“Come on, the floor isn’t comfortable.” Rio pulls Agatha up, stumbling slightly when Agatha drapes herself over Rio bonelessly. “Agatha,” she groans.

Agatha straightens herself slightly, clings onto Rio, manoeuvres them to the sofa, and trips. They tumble down, limbs tangling with each other. Agatha lies on top, pressing her ear to Rio’s–her own–chest. The sound is immediate, louder than she expects.

A steady thud, thud, thud.

“Your heart is beating real fast,” she murmurs.

“It’s your heart, Agatha,” Rio bites back.

She feels the corner of her lips lift into a smile at that. There’s a fluttery feeling in her gut–Rio’s gut–at the thought of Agatha’s own heart beating faster because of their proximity.

Agatha bites down on her lip lightly. She wonders if this is what Rio feels when they’re together. The way she went from an odd numbness, surrounded by endless darkness, to whatever this is. So, so human. Vulnerable, in many ways.

She barely noticed the absence of, well, everything in this body when she first woke in it. But now, after experiencing all of this, laying within the arms of her own body, the difference is palpable.

How can one return to living the emptiness after this?

“I’m used to it,” Rio answers the question as if she can hear Agatha's thoughts. After a beat, she adds, “I’ve watched you for long enough to know how you think.”

“And that’s not supposed to sound creepy at all.”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the attention.” Rio pinches Agatha’s arm, and Agatha is surprised to feel that it barely hurts. “You’re an attention whore and we all know that.”

“Whore?” Agatha gasps dramatically. “How dare you.”

They both fall quiet, and Agatha begins to think Rio has fallen asleep once her breathing begins to even out. She startles slightly when Rio speaks.

“Do you still want to see me?”

Agatha’s breath hitches.

“I don’t ever want to see your face again.” She spits out, nails digging into the palm of her hands to ground herself.

Rio stares at her, unmoving. And then, quietly–

“But this is the face you fell in love with.”

Rio looks absolutely broken, and it takes everything in Agatha to stare into Rio’s gaze without wavering.

“And I don’t want to see it,” she forces out, chokes a little on the words. “Not any more.”

She can’t face Rio without remembering Nicky, without remembering what they had, or what she had turned Nicky’s memory into.

“It hurts when I saw you, when I saw my face.” Rio says, voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers drum against Agatha’s arm. “I felt like this heart inside my chest was shattering. I– I didn’t know you can experience something like that. I could barely breathe, Agatha. Your body could barely breathe when it sees my face.”

It’s complicated, to say the least. Agatha feels a lot when it comes to Rio–love, anger, grief. Mix them all together, blend them up in a mixer and let it marinate for a century or two and it becomes a plethora of emotions that intertwine with each other, unable to be separated.

”I felt a lot too, when I saw me in your body.” Agatha says instead of answering the question.

“What did you feel?”

A pause, then Agatha takes a deep breath. The air doesn’t burn her lungs any more. The realisation is loud in her head, the thought screaming and making its existence unavoidable amidst her thoughts:

“I felt alive.”

“Sooo,” Billy walks in, dragging the single syllable for way too long, “how’s it going for you and Rio?”

“Just peachy.”

“Oh come on,” he smirks, crossing his arms. “The both of you were literally asleep in each other’s arms when we went back in. Did you two make up?”

Agatha’s eyes narrow.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Teen. Sit,” she gestures to the pile of cushions he had gathered and shoved into a corner of her study a while ago. He doesn’t move at first, but she smacks a book onto his head (yes, she’s taking full advantage of the extra three centimetres of height that Rio’s body has) and he yelps.

“Ow– What the hell?”

“Sit,” she repeats, watching him rub his scalp with a scowl. “Don’t make me find a heavier book.”

“Alright, alright,” he raises his hands in mock surrender, and sinks into the pile of cushions bonelessly. He looks at her expectantly. “What did you want to talk about?”

“What were you thinking when you cast the spell?”

“What?”

His easy demeanour drops, brows furrowing.

“Magick takes the path of least resistance, I’ve taught you this.” Agatha sighs and rubs her forehead. “Your magick might go haywire, but it won’t go through all the trouble to switch souls between a cosmic entity and a mere human. As powerful as you are, that’s still no simple feat. So, I’m going to ask you again,” her voice takes a gentler tone, a kind patience that she rarely displays outwardly, “what were you thinking when you cast the spell?”

“I…” Billy twists his fingers into his shirt. “I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. Just– Ugh–” He shakes his head, as if shaking off whatever stress he’s feeling like a dog. “You were so depressed and always staring at those flowers outside and I… I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to see you, I don’t know, less depressed. And I thought you'll feel better if you and Rio settle all the stuff you have between each other and get back together, I guess."

Billy stares at his hands, knuckles tight. His shoulders are hunched, like a kid waiting to be scolded. He looks so much like the little kid in Wanda’s Hex at that moment.

Something in Agatha cracks.

She walks over to him, wrapping her arms around his frame, and pulls him close. He stiffens, and for a split second he tries to resist it. She will let go, if that’s what he wants, but he just stifles a sound that is most definitely a sob and buries his face in her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know–”

“Shh,” she hushes him gently, rubbing circles on his back. “I’m not blaming you, kid. No one was hurt, and the spell is temporary at best. It’ll be fine.”

He sniffs, shoulders shaking as his tears ruin Agatha’s shirt. And his snot.

Yeah, she’s definitely throwing this shirt out. But the body is Rio's, so whatever disgusting liquid that seeped through the fabric and stained the skin is not Agatha's problem.

“Alright,” she pats him again, then forces his face away from her. She cringes when she feels the wet spot on her shoulder. “It’s just one accident, no need to be a cry-baby about it.”

“But, you and Rio–”

“Rio and I are fine. It’s a bit weird to be in someone else’s body, sure, but we’re big girls. We can take care of ourselves.” She smacks her lips together. “Don’t you have some teenager stuff to do? Hanging out with friends, going out with your boy toy, scrolling through your TikTok. Stop hiding away in my house at every chance you get.”

“But I like it here.”

“Nope, nuh uh. Get out and have some fun.”

“You’re just kicking me out because you want to spend time with Rio alone.”

“Alright, that’s it.” She hauls him up. “Out. Go get some vitamin D or something.”

She drags him along, forcing him through the front door. He looks somewhat offended at that.

“Just don’t die and don’t do drugs,” she says and slams the door in his face.

Agatha rolls her shoulders, turning back into the house. She has stuff to do–not very legal stuff that might or might not involve theft–and she’ll prefer it if there are no teenagers in the house while she plans.

‘Spend time with Rio alone’? They still have way too many issues between them to solve, it’ll be nigh impossible for the both of them to be in a room alone without ending up with a broken furniture or two. So no, she’s not kicking Billy out because she wants to spend time with her estranged wife.

“‘Rio and I are fine’, huh?” Agatha jumps at the sound of her own voice appearing behind her. She turns around and sees Rio standing there, a scowl on her face. “I don’t remember me being fine all of a sudden.”

Agatha rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. You and I both know that this–”, she points at Rio then at herself, “–will last another twenty-four hours at most.”

“And that’ll add up to a total of seventy-two hours that I haven’t been able to perform my duties, Agatha.” Rio hisses at her. “You know how important my job is.”

“Goddess, I’ll do your job if it makes you drop this.”

Rio looks at her and laughs. A ridiculous, depreciating kind of sound.

“All this–”, her hands flail through the air, “–for that Maximoff boy?”

Agatha frowns. “He’s not bad, Rio.”

“And he’s not your child, Agatha.” Rio grabs her by the shoulders, and Agatha is forced to stare into blue eyes. “He’s not ours.”

The words settle like lead in the air. Agatha stops breathing. A sharp and ugly feeling twists in her gut. It makes her want to throw up.

He’s not ours.

He’s not ours.

He’s not–

She shoves Rio off of her, hard. Rio stumbles slightly, her expression flickering for a moment before she smooths it into something unreadable.

Agatha knows that face. She’s the one who uses that face when she tries to hide the hurt, the inner turmoil of it all. It’s funny. You will think that you won’t really recognise the expressions you use, since you don’t see your face unless you look in a mirror. But Agatha sees it, recognition burning strong within her.

Rio takes a calming breath. “Agatha…”

“Is that what you think?” The heartbeat in her chest slows, a chill spreading from her fingertips. “That I would replace Nicky with someone else, replace you with someone else?”

Rio blinks. Then, her mouth twists into a sneer.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing? First, you play house with the Scarlet Witch, and now you’re getting all cosy with her son. I watched you, Agatha, as you get all handsy with her, calling her things like ‘darlin’ and ‘hun’. Did you fuck her, hm? Was she good? Is that why you’re so damn eager to treat her son like he’s yours now?”

No.

Agatha is not doing this today. She’s not doing this ever if she gets a choice.

Magick flares, space warps. In a blink of an eye–

She’s gone.

Chapter Text

In the final hours of being in the wrong body, Rio wakes with a lump in her throat. Rio had passed out on the bed shortly after Agatha disappears, her body unable to keep up with days of having not slept a wink. She’ll have to talk to Agatha about this shitty sleeping habit of hers, she thinks.

Her body is heavy, and she can’t seem to bring herself out of bed no matter what she does. She lays there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the clock’s ticking as time slowly passes.

Rio knows her mind is still hers. She’s thinking of Agatha, of Nicky, of that abomination. The physical aspects of what she’s experiencing, well, Rio can only take a guess.

Exhaustion? It does feel like it. But Rio has been tired before, and it was never this sort of bone-deep ache that makes her want to curl up into a pit and rot ‘till the end of eternity.

Someone knocks at the door, and Rio can only manage a groan.

“Rio,” Alice steps through. “We ordered pizza, do you want some? You haven’t eaten anything since you switched to Agatha’s body.”

“No, go away.” Rio buries her head in a pillow.

She’s tired. So, so tired that she can’t even manage to feel hungry.

“We’ll leave some for you,” Alice says before leaving, the door closing shut.

The silence is heavy.

It isn’t the kind that Rio is used to–the expectant stillness of the dead, the hush of a world slipping away. This is different, thicker. It presses down on her, close and suffocating, wrapping around her lungs like a hand refusing to let go.

She should be fine, should be able to think–to pick apart this new sensation, analyse it like she would any other change. But the weight in her chest is unbearable. It isn’t hers, she realises slowly. It doesn’t belong to her.

But it does.

Her fingers curl tightly into the fabric of her sleeves, gaze unfocused on the empty space ahead of her. The feeling–grief, she finally figures–pulses beneath her skin, a raw, gnawing thing with no beginning and no end. It belongs to Agatha. Rio knows that now, feels it as clear as day–woven deep into muscle and bone, into the very shape of Agatha’s body.

She swallows hard, jaw tight, eyes burning with something she refuses to name. The taste of salt lingers on her tongue.

This is what Agatha carries, what she lives with. A grief so deep, so powerful, that it became a part of her, something that she never set down because she doesn’t have anywhere to place it. No wonder she doesn’t sleep.

The thought hurts.

Another knock at the door, and Rio doesn’t even bother to move a single muscle this time. Jen steps through, her lips pursed as she takes in the scene before her.

“Look, Agatha’s body is already half-way to a skeleton and we’re not letting you finish the job,” she says. Rio doesn’t like the tone that she’s using, a weird itch forming beneath her skin. “Get up, you’re going to eat something whether you like it or not.”

“Fuck off, potions witch.”

Jen groans. “The both of you are such assholes.”

Then, she peels the blanket away. Cold air bites at Rio's skin, and she tumbles gracelessly to the floor. She lands with a thud, glaring up at Jen.

“I’m not letting you starve Agatha’s body to death. Come on,” Jen hauls her up with surprising ease.

Rio had been so focused on the whole body-switch situation, she didn’t even notice Agatha had lost a concerning amount of weight. Sure, she hadn’t been in the best of shape ever since Wanda’s Hex, but now…

Her wrists look fragile when she flexes her fingers. She risks a glance in the mirror and sees a deathly pale face and a body that’s almost skin and bones. She flinches and turns away, unable to seek another glance.

“Has she been eating?” Rio asks quietly as Jen leads them both to the kitchen.

Jen turns and looks at her with a raised brow. “I think you can see for yourself.” A pause. “We had to force her to eat, sometimes. She was getting better, Billy even managed to convince her to teach him some simple magick. He’s been trying to help her in any way he can.”

“Why?”

Why is she still in so much grief? Why hasn’t she let go? Why must she push Rio away?

“It’s Agatha, she’s had a pretty fucked up life if you ask me.” Jen sighs, and pulls out the leftover pizza from the microwave. She sets them down in front of Rio. “Anyone will go insane if they had to live the life she had.”

Lilia appears beside them, nursing a cup of tea. “Three of swords,” she says softly.

Heartache, sorrow, grief.

“Eat, Rio.” Jen says, voice stern when Rio doesn’t move.

She clenches her jaw, and very, very slowly, takes a piece of the pizza into her mouth. It tastes like ash on her tongue. Her stomach tightens, aches, and she fights the urge to throw up.

Rio chews on it gingerly, slowly, taking her time before she forces it down her throat. One bite, two bites, three bites…

And before she knows it, she’s wolfing them down, eager to ease the hunger that she hasn’t even recognised. It tastes less horrible by the end of it, sharp flavours bursting in her mouth. Too much, maybe. It settles warm in her stomach, a weight that she isn’t used to carrying. It has been…decades since she last ate something.

Lilia pushes a cup of tea towards her. It has a badly drawn rabbit on it, and Rio can recognise the drawing as Agatha’s Señor Scratchy.

“Billy gifted it, says it’s to thank Agatha for teaching him magick.” Jen explains when she notices Rio staring at the drawing.

Rio doesn’t say anything, merely lifting the cup to her lips and taking a sip. The warm liquid trickles down her throat, warming her stiff fingers. She stares at the drawing again when she sets the cup down, lightly tracing the wobbly lines.

Nicky skips down the path, his bright laugh echoing off the trees. Rio watches, hidden.

He gathers flowers and shows them to Agatha. She smiles at him, tender and soft and Rio has to hold herself back from rushing forward to join them.

“Let me put it in your hair, Mama!” He says.

Agatha chuckles and lowers herself to the ground. He grins and braids the flower into her hair, being extra careful to not pull.

Something wet trickles down Rio’s face.

Agatha wanders.

She drifts between here and there, between the hum of the living and the hush of the In-Between. The souls of the dead shuffle forward, some finding their way with ease, others trapped in the loops of their own making. Agatha watches, untethered, feeling their pull like a hook stuck between her ribs, a sharp pain for every moment she ignores the cries.

Fuck it. It’s not like she has anything else better to do anyways.

She follows the pull, letting it guide her to a soul. It leads her to a hospital, and Agatha is overwhelmed with a sudden noise that rings in her ears. It’s cries, pleas, all morphing together to form a static that has her furrowing her brows before she even steps into the building.

“Fuck me,” she grumbles under her breath as she enters the hospital. The noise grows louder, and it takes everything in her to not turn around and leave right away.

Well, the pain she’ll experience if she continues to ignore the souls is also quite good at convincing her to stay.

“Oi,” she walks up to a random soul–pale, bald, reminds her of that weird Gollum character from the movies that Billy made her watch with him. He looks at her, startled. “You’re dead, stop lingering around and get a move on.”

He shakes his head. “No, no… My wife is still waiting for me to go home…”

Agatha doubts that his wife is still waiting for him, considering that he currently looks more like a corpse than anything. Ah, he is already a corpse. Oops.

She gives him a long, blank stare. “Right. And I’m sure she’s still setting a plate of dinner for you at the table.”

He doesn’t get the sarcasm, just looks at her with a pleading look.

She sighs. “You’re dead, whatever-your-name-is, and you’re kind of congesting the traffic here. Either you move on now, or become a ghost and be stuck here until the end of eternity. Which will be a very, very long time from now.”

“But, my wife–”

“Your wife is gonna die too. Soon.” She snaps. The noise is still ringing in her ears. “Get a grip, and the both of you can meet again later on. Or be stuck here forever while she moves on alone.”

The man stares, lips trembling. A moment passes, and Agatha groans and turns away. This isn’t her job anyways, might as well let Rio deal with it after they switch back. It’ll keep her busy, and Agatha might be able to avoid Rio for another few months again.

“Wait!”

Agatha stops. She turns to see the man chasing after her.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” she says. “Alright then, step towards the light or something.”

A pause. Nothing happens. Fuck. Agatha has no idea how this works.

“Am I supposed to…” The man gazes to the ceiling, as if waiting for the pearly gates to appear right then and there.

She doesn't have the patience for this.

“Alright buddy, figure it out yourself. I’m out.” She turns and leaves before he can catch up, warping herself to the other end of the building.

The ringing in her ears dim, and she looks up and sees a boy. He’s wearing a hospital gown, laying in bed and staring at her with awe in his eyes.

“You just appeared out of thin air!” He exclaims.

Agatha winces and turns to leave again, to anywhere but this stupid hospital, but the boy starts coughing. His body hunches over, face turning red as he coughs and coughs and for a split second Agatha wonders if he’s going to cough up his lungs onto the floor.

Nicky smiles at her, breath concerningly weak. He fights back another coughing fit, and shows her the flowers he had gathered.

“Look, Mama, aren’t these pretty?”

She messes with his long hair, accepting the flowers he gives to her. “They’re beautiful, Nicky.”

“They remind me of you.” His smile widens, and Agatha can’t help but smile with him.

He hunches over suddenly, pressing a hand over his mouth as he coughs.

Agatha’s breath hitches, a hand quickly smoothing over his back as his small body shakes. She can do nothing but pat his back and whisper reassurances in his ear, hoping this sickness will pass.

The boy drops to the floor, and Agatha…

Agatha watches with an odd sort of detachment. Her limbs won’t move. She stands rooted to the spot, as if invisible vines have curled around her ankles, tightening, forcing her to stay and watch as doctors and nurses rush into the room. They move with urgency, fighting with Death to keep the boy alive.

But Agatha knows. She feels it, deep in her gut, that she will have to take the boy today. It's inevitable, and the thought sears itself into her mind, her skin, her bones.

She watches, unable to do anything as the boy’s breath grows thin, weak. His heartbeat stutters, slows, stops. Then, he appears in the form of a soul, watching the doctors and nurses scramble to save what is already lost.

“Am I dead?” He asks, eyes downcast.

Agatha’s lips quiver. “I’m…sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “I knew I wasn’t gonna live long. Mom and Dad are gonna be sad, though.”

“They will,” Agatha agrees. She doesn’t say how a mother’s grief can turn into something unbearable, something that hollows a person out. She doesn’t tell him that she’s one of these mothers, how she’s collapsed, begging for her child’s life. He doesn’t need to know that. “Do you want to go now?”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know,” Agatha answers truthfully. She died once, but she never went with Rio, never wanted to find out what it’s like on the other side. But now, she can’t bring it in herself to leave the boy to deal with his death all on his own. “I guess we’ll find out together.”

“Are you dead too?”

“No, not really.”

The boy stands there, watching the people hover over his body. Agatha wonders if he’s waiting for his parents to show up, so he’ll be able to see them one last time. She doesn’t think she will want to witness that scene, it’ll just bring up memories that she can’t seem to leave behind.

“I’m scared,” he says quietly. “What will happen to my parents now that I’m gone?”

“I don’t know,” Agatha says again. A lie this time.

“You don’t know anything,” he grumbles under his breath, but moves closer to Agatha. He reaches a hand out towards her hesitantly. “Can I hold your hand?”

When she takes his hand, there’s nothing–no warmth, no weight, no pulse beneath his skin. “We can stay here for a little while longer, if you want.”

“No,” he says, voice thin, trembling. “I don’t want to see my Mom sad because of me.” He blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to push back tears that won’t come. “Can we just go?”

“Alright.”

Agatha doesn’t fight the pull this time, letting it guide her magick. The air splits apart, edges curling like burnt paper. A soft glow seeps through, casting the room in an eerie, not-quite-light.

She holds his hand in hers and smiles, trying her best to be a steady guide. She imagines Rio taking Nicky’s hand in hers, guiding him down the road in the dead of the night. “Come on, then.”

They walk, hand in hand. He stops before passing through, turning around to see his body. Someone comes crashing through the door–his mother.

She wails, voice raw with desperation. “No, no, please, someone help him–”

He trembles, staring at his mother, who is holding the hand of his body, begging for him to wake up. For a second, Agatha thinks he might turn back. Agatha watches, her own chest aching with a grief that is all too familiar. She doesn’t tell him to keep walking.

A sudden thought strikes her. Let him live, the voice in her head whispers enticingly, let him live, survive, unlike Nicky. But oddly enough, she shuts the thoughts down. The ringing in her ears are coming back again, louder and more insistent as she stands there with the boy, unmoving. There's the pull again, tugging harder and harder at her to take the boy and go.

He’s the one who moves first, hand lightly tugging hers as he steps through the tear in space. “She’ll be alright?” He asks.

“She will,” Agatha says. “And you will be, too.”

That seems to reassure him, and they step through together. They stand side by side in the In-Between, surrounded by the vast emptiness. He takes a look around, and lets go of her hand. “I think I know the way from here. I’ve got a really strong gut feeling about this.”

“Oh, do you now,” Agatha smiles. “What does it tell you?”

“It tells me to move forward, duh.”

Agatha laughs. “Right, of course.” She nudges him gently. “Go on then.”

She doesn’t move and watches as he walks forward without her, steps slowly but surely growing more confident. He’s skipping his way by the end of it, his form fading away as he hums a tune Agatha is unfamiliar with.

This is Rio’s domain, not hers–yet here she is, playing guide in a role that she tried so hard to run away from.

Agatha breathes, a weight heavy in her chest. She turns to leave, fingers crackling with green magick. It’s been a while since she left the house, Rio and the coven must be worried. And as much as Agatha can avoid the confrontation between her and Rio, she knows it’s inevitable. One day, sooner or later, they’ll have to have a conversation. Agatha prefers it to be later than sooner.

She stands there, amidst the darkness, and considers going home. But another soul calls out for her. It tugs and tugs and tugs, yet the sensation is painless. It’s familiar in a way that Rio’s body remembers, and her feet are moving towards the call before Agatha can even make a decision about it.

The In-Between fades away as she walks, the darkness moulding into something less empty. Grass appears at her feet, the faint smell of lavenders in the air. There’s a cottage that stands in the distance, and Agatha’s mind go blank at the sight.

Why is it here?

The cottage seems to stand frozen, ivy strangling its walls. There’s a figure, a small one, just outside the cottage. Even from a distance, Agatha can still recognise her son.

Agatha’s throat tightens.

Nicky is crouching amongst the field of flowers, his hand combing through each bloom with a gentleness Agatha remembers as clear as day. He seems to sense her presence and looks up, grinning when he spots her.

“Mami!” He waves at Agatha.

Mami, not Mama. Right, Agatha is still in Rio’s body.

She puts on a sickly sweet smile and forces her heavy legs to move. Every step feels like she’s trudging through setting concrete.

“Are you alright, Mami. You seem a little–”, his smile drops, replaced with a concerned frown, “–off.”

“I– Yes, I’m fine.” She forces out, voice strained. “Your Mama was just being a pain in the ass, as usual.”

He blinks, then smiles. “You said you love her most when she’s an asshole.”

Rio said that to their child? “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“How is Mama these days? I know you told me Billy helped her get a body back.” He twists the flowers in his hands, shaping a flower-crown with ease. “Is Mama still…you know, being Mama?”

She can’t do this. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck–

“It’s fine if she doesn’t want to come so soon. I can wait for her, no matter how long it takes.”

Agatha drops to her knees and wraps her arms around him, pulling him tight against her. He lets out a little oof, but relaxes into the embrace. Agatha’s arms tighten around him. He feels too real, too solid. His hair smells like peppermint and summer dirt, just as it did all those years ago.

“I’m sorry, Nicky,” she chokes back a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mami?” His voice wavers, small hands patting her back. “You’re squishing me.”

“I’m so sorry–”

The world blurs, darkens. She closes her eyes, clings onto the sensation of Nicky in her arms with everything she has. She doesn’t let go.

When Agatha opens her eyes again, she’s staring at a familiar cup with a badly drawn rabbit on it in her hands.

Chapter Text

“Mami, are you alright?”

Rio gasps, fighting back a sudden urge to throw up. She looks down and sees Nicky in her arms, looking back at her with eyes filled with concern. She closes her eyes and buries her face in his hair, breathing in the scent of peppermint and summer dirt.

“I’m alright, mijo,” she says. “I’m alright.”

The familiar weight of him in her arms grounds her. Her heartbeat slows, fading into the background (and it will remain still, at least until she sees Agatha again).

“I thought you were Mama just now, just for a minute though.” Nicky says.

Rio swallows down the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry, kiddo. Had a real busy day, I must’ve been a bit out of it.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” Nicky shakes his head and wriggles out of her embrace. “It just made me realise that it’s been a really, really long time since I last spoke to her.”

Gosh, Rio wonders how did Agatha raise Nicky to be such a wonderful, loveable, perfect little boy when she herself acts like a destructive force of nature.

“Your Mama misses you too,” Rio says. She ruffles his hair, ignoring his little cry of protest when she messes it up, and stands. "She's just a bit busy with…a lot of things. You know how she is."

Nicky giggles.

For a moment, Rio remembers Billy–the way he talked about Agatha, the way he unconsciously looked towards her for comfort or guidance. It should be Nicky instead. Nicky should be the one out there under Agatha's wing, not Billy fucking Maximoff. But there's nothing Rio can do to change it, even if she is to go against the Sacred Balance now, Agatha has already formed a bond with that boy (she can deny it all she wants, but Rio isn't blind, especially when it comes to things concerning her wife).

At least Nicky is safe here. Safe, happy, and infinitely patient in waiting for the day he can see his Mama again.

Agatha was here, while she was in Rio's body. Rio tries to not linger on the thought, on what it implies. The next time she sees Agatha is going to be a fucking bloodbath.

"Are you going to leave again?" Nicky asks. Her eyes snap to his. "You're acting a bit weird today, Mami. It's okay if you have to go. I'll be here when you come back! Well, I can't really go anywhere else," he adds with a shrug.

Her stomach twists with something, and she shoves the feeling down before she can name it. She's felt more than enough to last her a mortal lifetime for the past three days in Agatha's body.

"I can stay for a while longer," she says.

Nicky shakes his head. "Nuh uh, the souls are really loud right now. They must be bothering you a lot."

That's true–they're loud and blaring inside her head, the summons tugging at her skin. It stings.

Rio wonders how much of it all can Nicky feel? Is it because he's Death's child that he is to be chained down by the same responsibilities and burdens as she is?

She doesn't want that for him. She doesn't want that for anyone, not even for the Maximoff abomination.

"You're right," Rio sighs. "They are loud."

Louder than Rio has ever experienced in her entire existence, which is a very, very long existence. It's a miracle she wasn't thrown off by it all when she returned to her own body.

"Mami's gonna be really busy for the next few days," Rio says. "I won't be able to visit as much, will that be okay?"

Nicky smiles. "Of course!"

He's always so sweet, so understanding and forgiving of everything. Rio gives him one final hug before she allows herself to be pulled away.

The first thing Agatha does once she's back in her own body is run to the bathroom and empty the contents in her stomach into the toilet.

"Fuck," she gags at the unpleasant, sour taste burning at the back of her throat. It only makes her want to throw up even more.

"Are you alright?" Jen hovers by the door, a slight look of disgust on her face. Agatha doesn't have the energy to roll her eyes. "Jesus, I didn't know you'll react that badly to pizza."

"Probably because I haven't had any actual food in a while, Jennifer." Agatha says, her voice too weak to hold any actual bite. "Should've served something light. Did my absence make you lose common sense?"

Alice shows up with a cup of water in her hands. "That's my bad," she says sheepishly. "I was the one who ordered the pizza."

Agatha stands on wobbly feet and snatches the cup from Alice's hand. She drinks a mouthful then spits it all out. The taste still lingers on her tongue. Disgusting.

"You can't exactly blame us if you're the one starving your body," Jen says as Agatha steps out of the bathroom.

Gosh, they're really turning dumber as the days pass.

"I wasn't exactly in my body, was I, Jen?" Agatha hisses.

Jen looks as if she's about to argue, but Alice digs her elbow into Jen's side, effectively shutting her up.

Agatha doesn't spare them another glance, storming back into her bedroom with the cup of water. There's not much liquid left in it, so she gulps the rest down and sets the cup on the bedside table with a loud thud. She throws herself onto the bed, closing her eyes to try and calm the nausea.

It's not Alice's or Jen's fault, Agatha knows. It's not Rio's fault either, not entirely.

Agatha hadn't eaten anything except the occasional chocolate bar that Lilia would force down her throat for the past few days, and it was already doing a number on her. It really is just bad timing that Billy's magick fucks up and switches Rio into Agatha's body now, when Agatha is already used to the feeling of having nothing in her digestive system other than lukewarm tea and the occasional chocolate.

Rio doesn't need to eat, that much Agatha is aware, so she must've never realised how starved Agatha's body is.

She curls into herself, trying to ignore the pain in her abdomen that she's just beginning to notice.

"You can't continue to starve yourself." Lilia enters the room without even knocking, which is just rude, but there's a bowl of something in her hands. It smells nice, and it miraculously helps to calm the nauseous feeling in her gut. "Chicken soup, with a bit of rice in it."

"Starving? Dramatic much?" She says. Still, she sits up on the bed, crossing her legs.

Lilia gives her an exasperated look and shoves the bowl into her hands. "Why do we even put up with you."

Agatha only hesitates for a second before taking an annoyingly loud sip from the bowl. The warm liquid trickles down her throat, soothing the burning sensation of acid from vomiting earlier.

"Shouldn't you be asking yourself that question, Calderu?" Agatha says. "No one asked you to babysit me."

"I think we'll all prefer that every member of the coven is alive and healthy," Lilia says the last word with a bite.

"I am healthy."

"I never said you weren't."

A beat. Then Agatha sips at the soup again, avoiding eye contact with Lilia. Fuck all these people pretending to care about her. She's been alone for so long, she'll probably be doing better off alone.

Or not.

Who knows. That's the thrill of it all.

Agatha Harkness, the coven-less witch, dying (again) alone in the middle of who-knows-where because she refuses to shove food into her stomach.

She can't help but laugh at the thought, snorting into her soup.

"Eat the rice as well, Harkness. I didn't cook this just for you to waste it." Lilia says, shoving a spoon into the bowl.

"I don't have the appetite," Agatha says. She sounds like a really picky kid, and Agatha sees the way Lilia's eyes twitch at that. "I want chicken nuggies," Agatha adds in a high-pitched voice.

"You're 400 years old, you can get your chicken nuggies on your own," Lilia deadpans. "Finish your goddamn food, Agatha."

"Still younger than you, crone." Agatha says. She shoves the empty bowl back into Lilia's hands once she's done, and makes shooing motions with her hands. "Out, out. I need my beauty sleep."

"I'm beginning to develop the patience of a saint," Lilia mutters under her breath as she gets up to leave.

"You're welcome for that!" Agatha says as Lilia shuts the door behind her with a soft click.

Agatha Harkness, the not-so coven-less witch, doesn't die alone in the middle of nowhere, because her coven forced her to shove food into her stomach.

The thought is oddly comforting, and the knowledge of knowing that she isn't alone wraps her in a cocoon. Agatha drifts off into a deep, deep sleep–the first real rest she's had in days.

Agatha isn't so surprised to see Rio appear in her garden. She's more surprised by the fact it took Rio three days to show up.

"Your garden is depressing." That's the first thing Rio says, and Agatha really, really wants to scream at Rio and demand what the fuck does she want. Agatha doesn't. "I think your flowers are crying to be put out of their misery."

"I think they're doing just fine," Agatha waves a dismissive hand at the depressingly yellow patch of grass.

Rio sighs, long and suffering, then snaps her fingers. A wave of green magick rushes through the garden, and everything perks up with life and enthusiasm. Agatha thinks she can even hear the birds chirping like it's a scene from a fucking Disney movie.

"What do you want, Rio?" Agatha says, crossing her arms. "Came all the way just to cry about how shit my garden is and fix it for me?"

"We should talk."

"Oh? About the weather? Your gardening skills? Which, I must admit, is quite neat. The garden definitely looks better now, Billy might finally stop bitching about how the plants are dying and–"

"Don't be an ass, Agatha." Rio snaps. She's in a foul mood, it seems. Probably something to do with the Sacred Balance that Agatha might've fucked up during their switch or whatever.

"Fine," Agatha says sharply. "We should fucking talk then, or whatever. Have a heart-to-heart, gush about our feelings because we're so great at doing that."

"That's precisely why we should talk about it–"

"Yeah, and I'm saying that we should!" Agatha grins, but it's more of baring teeth than an actual smile. "Have a cup of tea over a heartfelt conversation, shed a few tears on our feelings, and all of our problems will be magically resolved right after."

"Fucking hell, Agatha." Rio runs a hand through her hair. "You and I both know it doesn't work like that."

"Then what the fuck do you want from me?!" Agatha screams. She's feeling lucky that none of the coven members are in the house today, she's not exactly about to argue with Rio in front of everyone else like she's starring in a stupid drama. "I told you I never wanted to see your face again, and you agreed. But here you are, in all your Lady Death glory, demanding for us to talk–"

"You were with Nicky." Rio cuts Agatha off, voice eerily calm.

Agatha narrows her eyes. "So, that was real."

Rio looks away, her eyes landing on the azaleas that are swaying gently with the wind. Purple, Agatha's colour.

"Yes," Rio says finally.

Motherfucker. This bitch. This fucking–

Fuck!

"Wow." Agatha is fucking speechless. She's overcome with the feeling of being ridiculed, and a laugh forces its way up her throat and through her lips. She laughs, hunches over, arms over her abdomen and laughs.

Rio, fucking Rio, had Nicky this whole time.

And Agatha.

Agatha had nothing, has nothing.

Agatha who woke up to their son's cold body in her arms, alone. Agatha who buried their son, alone. Agatha who mourned their son, alone.

Was Rio laughing at her, watching Agatha cry like an idiot when she kept Nicky all to herself? Was all of Agatha's pain a cruel fucking joke?

She laughs and laughs, feels tears welling up in her eyes. She doesn't bother to stop them from spilling over.

"Agatha…"

The laughter dies mid-breath. "Fuck you," she rasps, her voice splintering.

Rio takes a step closer, and Agatha doesn't have the heart to stop her. Rio opens her mouth to say something, but her eyes widen and the space around them hums. Her hand reaches out to grab at Agatha, voice hoarse, "Wait–"

The air cracks.

Rio is gone.

Agatha stands frozen, the garden's sudden silence pressing against her eardrums. She doesn't have the energy to react to whatever the fuck just happened.

Stumbling inside the house, Agatha grabs the first bottle she finds–some rancid merlot that either Jen or Alice brought over for dinner. The first gulp tastes something horrid like battery acid, and it doesn't exactly get any better after that. She drinks until her vision blurs, until her taste buds are begging for her to stop torturing them.

(Even now, she can still remember Nicky amongst the lavenders and azaleas, a bright smile on his lips and a beautifully woven flower crown in his hands.)

Two weeks after the whole body-switch fiasco, Billy attempts to levitate the vase again. They’re doing it in the garden, and Agatha puts a good distance between them, standing far away from his magick this time. 

“You look like I’m about to detonate a bomb here,” he grumbles. 

“Probably because you could be detonating a bomb and none of us will know,” she says, not closing the distance between them in any way at all. “Come on Teen, we don’t have all day. Levitate the damn vase so we can all go.”

“It’s not like you have anything better to do,” he shoots back. 

Agatha really, really is beginning to question why in the everlasting fuck does she keep this boy around her. Will she be branded a bad person if she leaves him at the local shelter? Probably. But she’s been called worse. 

She keeps her eyes glued to Billy’s magick, tracking his every move. The others are in the house, safely distant, but there’s no guarantee that they won’t be affected if anything does happen. All the trouble they’ll have to go through is not worth just trying to levitate a vase. If the teenager gets it wrong again, she’s banning him from doing any sort of levitation until he sorts out the basics. She’s going to watch him suffer and she’ll thoroughly enjoy it.

His hands spark with blue, he clenches his jaw as he concentrates and…

The vase rises. 

“Yes!” He shouts, delighted. The vase drops to the ground with a thud. 

He can barely hold it for five seconds, but she’s feeling generous today (probably because she didn’t switch bodies again, yay for her and Billy).

“Good job, Teen,” she shoots him a quick thumbs up. He grins at her. “Now hold it for longer, a kid jumping can stay midair for longer than your pathetic attempt at levitation.”

His smile drops. She, however, grins at him–a shit-eating, asshole kind of grin that she knows will make him twitch with irritation. And he does. 

Agatha watches him levitate the vase for five more times, each attempt barely a second longer than the last. Progress, but barely. He’s doing absolutely horrible for a kid with reality-altering abilities and is prophesied to become the Demiurge. Or maybe Agatha is holding him to a higher standard, but he doesn’t need to know. 

“Can’t we continue this tomorrow,” he groans. “This is getting boring.”

“Kids these day should really stop watching that Tiktok stuff, it’s fucking up your attention span.”

“You can barely sit still without whining for something to entertain yourself every five minutes,” Billy says. “And I’m being generous with the five minutes.”

Agatha Harkness hates this teenager. 

She flips him off and struts back into the house. Rio is sitting at the table, staring outside the window to where Agatha was standing quite literally 30 seconds ago.

Agatha considers kicking her out of the house. Fuck Rio for showing up as if nothing had happened a few days ago–eleven days to be exact, and Agatha is counting because Rio had disappeared without a word after their little screaming match and didn't bother providing an explanation or showing up at all. Well, she's here now.

“You’re having fun,” Rio says in a somewhat grumpy tone. 

Agatha is feeling very, very generous today. She decides she can entertain whatever this is.

“You jealous of a kid?” Agatha grabs a hold of Rio’s face in one hand, grinning. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favourite.”

Rio’s eyes darken and pulls Agatha onto her lap with indubitable strength. “Still your favourite, hm? Is he competition?”

Leave it up to Rio to be jealous of a child. Not to mention that Agatha is so, so obviously not into men and Billy is so, so fucking gay. Emo, twink, and gay. 

Rio’s grip tightens around Agatha’s waist, her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear. “Competition–”, the word is said with a growl that makes Agatha shiver, “–or not, does it really matter?"

"That's up for you to decide, isn't it?" Agatha says easily. "He's an annoying kid with the ability to kill us all on accident if he throws a temper tantrum, and I'm working my ass off over here to prevent him doing just that."

Rio hums a sound of agreement, and Agatha grins at that. See, someone here recognises her efforts. She shifts, making herself comfortable in Rio’s lap. Her fingers tangle themselves in strands of Rio’s hair, enjoying the faint woody, earthy scent that reminds Agatha of the time she used to run around with Nicky, never settling down in a place for too long and spending most of their nights under the bright moon light.

Neither of them bring up the conversation they had a few days ago. And Agatha prefers it this way–a sort of calm, peacefulness between them. She can pretend nothing happened, pretend that this is how it's always been.

Except Nicky is not here, is he? That thought is a knife lodged snugly in her heart, and she's become so used to the pain she doesn't think she will want to deal with it–pull the knife out, watch everything she's been keeping inside pour out in a mess.

"You're thinking very loudly," Rio says, her voice cutting through the silence.

"You're not going to ask about it?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No," Agatha says quickly. Then, in a weaker voice, "Maybe."

Rio shifts beneath her, and stares into her eyes. "Really?"

No, not really. Agatha thinks she'll prefer the knife continue to stay where it has been for the past however-long-it-has-been. With that in mind, she removes herself from Rio's lap.

"No, it's a prank! Happy April Fool's," Agatha says with a grin. "Now, don't you have some Lady Death duty to be getting to? Off you go. Don't wanna congest the spiritual traffic or whatever it is."

"Agatha," Rio sighs.

Agatha lets the grin drop from her face. She takes a seat, not in Rio's lap this time, and stares at everything and nothing. Her gaze flickers around, not lingering on anything in particular. Billy is still outside, but he's long stopped levitating the vase, instead typing away on his phone with a stupid smile on his face.

"Nicky, he…" Rio hesitates, "he's not alive."

"Well yes, I totally expect him to be alive after I buried his dead body with my own hands," Agatha deadpans.

Rio winces slightly. "I mean he's not alive, Agatha. Whatever you saw while in my body, he's not the same as your Nicky. Not entirely, at least."

A beat. Agatha takes a deep breath.

"He's there, yes, but he's more of a memory at this point. A ghost of the past."

"Evanora was a ghost," Agatha can't help but sound harsh, "and she was very much more than just a memory."

"It's–", Rio runs a hand through her hand, brows furrowing. "It's complicated, hard to put into words. I'm not saying he's not yours–"

"Of course he's mine," Agatha hisses. "Nicky is mine. And you took him, Rio. You took him away from me."

Memories of the way Agatha stood rooted, unable to do anything but watch as a little boy die in his hospital room surfaces. She had done the same, hadn't she? Took the son of a mother, guided his soul with his hand in hers, watched as he moved on. And she did nothing. She couldn't do anything.

"I tried, Agatha," Rio says. "I really did."

And Agatha believes that, really. Because she had experienced it for herself firsthand, lived through the experience of having to carry the burden of Death on her shoulders.

"I just wanted you there by my side," Agatha says quietly. A confession, she supposes. "I was so lonely before I met you, but then you happened, then Nicky happened, and I wasn't alone anymore. Until Nicky died. And both you and him were gone. I just– Why weren't you there with me?"

"I didn't know if you would want to see me again. I didn't–", Rio gulps, "I didn't want to see you hate me. Knowing it is one thing, but seeing it with my own eyes, the hate, the fear in your eyes…"

"So you left me to grief our son alone."

Rio's eyes fall shut. "Fuck, I did that. I– Fuck."

"Yeah, Rio," is all Agatha can manage to say. "Yeah."

Silence settles between them. It's heavy, it weighs down on Agatha's shoulders, but she'll be lying if she says she doesn't feel a fraction of relief at whatever this pseudo therapy session they're having with each other. Billy will probably say that this isn't a therapy session at all and they will need to go to an actual therapist and get their shit sorted out.

Eventually the silence becomes a bit too boring for Agatha (it's barely been three minutes if she's being honest here, but she is Agatha so she's going to say that they've been sitting there doing nothing but wallow in sad thoughts for a whole hour), and she gets up from her seat, the chair scraping the floor as she does.

"Glad we got that all sorted," she says.

Rio scoffs. "Seriously?"

"Yep. All sorted."

"Agatha, you can't be serious–"

Agatha is so serious. She really prefers if they move on to some hot and steamy makeup sex.

"I don't know what more you want to say, or what you want me to say. Let's be real here, Rio, the amount of shit we have between us will take at least 100k words of fanfiction to be sorted out. It's not even gonna be slowburn, it's just gonna be angst. So why don't let's skip 100k words of the unnecessary angst, and head straight to the happy ending."

"That's…a horrible analogy, whatever angst or fanfiction even means."

"Oh, you don't wanna know," Agatha says with a very, very, serious look on her face.

Rio blinks, processing.

"Fine," she groans after a moment. Agatha almost cheers. "But this is not over, Agatha. We'll have to deal with it sooner or later."

"I'll just make Billy pay for our couples therapy later on."

"Yeah, like that's going to work out."

"The point is he's going to be paying for something. Wait," Agatha's head snaps towards the window. Billy is still outside, but he seems ready to leave. "Get back here, Maximoff! You still owe me ice cream for all the emotional damage you caused!"